A/N: A Keefe POV of the chapter entitled "Angry" from my main story. Part 1 of 2. Then, it'll be back to the Flashback Healing Center scenes.
Sessions were done for the day and Keefe was relieved.
It had been a good day, but he and Foster had set aside the rest of the afternoon and evening for nothing but spending time together. No studying, none of their other friends, just lots of time alone just the two of them. He was really looking forward to it.
He went to his room to change out of his Foxfire uniform and was about to leap to Havenfield when his Imparter rang.
Ugh. It was his dad.
And his dad wanted to see him. Keefe tried to blow him off, telling him he already had plans, but he insisted that it would only take a minute. So before he knew it, Daddy Dearest was striding into Keefe's room in the Gold Tower.
"I've spoken with both Magnate Leto and Master Cadence," he said immediately.
"I'm doing great, thanks for asking," Keefe said wryly as he shut his door.
His dad's eyes narrowed.
"Oh, right, you didn't say hello or ask how I was doing, you just blew past those pleasantries. Sorry. Continue." Keefe sat down in his desk chair, leaning back and placing his hands behind his head, pretending to be at his leisure despite the resentment already bubbling up inside of him.
"Well, you can't be confused as to why I'm here. Your grades—"
"Are great," Keefe cut in. "I'm doing well."
"Not well enough," Cassius spat, sneering at him. "I was the top of my year when I was in school. You have a photographic memory. The Vacker boy doesn't—and yet he outscores you every step of the way."
"Oh goody, it's that complaint again. I'm second in our year, behind Fitz, and only barely, and—"
"I don't want any more excuses about how you're a year younger than he is," his dad said, voice rising. "I want you to take this seriously. You have an image to maintain."
Keefe dropped his relaxed façade. "I don't care about maintaining an image. Leto, Cadence and my mentors have all been pleased with my grades, especially when you consider that Fitz and I are still the top two in our year when we've been through more trauma, had more interruptions—"
"All the more reason! You should be doing better than the Vacker boy, we have so much more to prove now, with your mother in Exile, and you aren't taking things seriously, you're choosing instead to spend all your time with your little girlfriend, chasing after the Moonlark and living in her shadow when you should be doing something."
"I'm not—"
But his dad clearly wasn't planning on letting him talk.
"I always knew you'd shame your family. As if your mother hasn't done enough of that already! You should be working hard to overcome that, but I'm not even surprised that you've chosen to prioritize your friends and that girlfriend of yours and be lazy and worthless—"
"Enough!" Keefe shouted, jumping up out of his chair.
He wasn't going to stand for this. Not anymore.
Not ever again.
He wasn't a child now.
He wasn't afraid. And he was way past seeking approval. He didn't care anymore, didn't want his dad's approval.
But he also no longer wanted to play it off like it was nothing, like it was amusing.
His dad was an emotionally stunted jerk who had treated him terribly his entire life, and Keefe was done.
He took no small satisfaction in seeing his dad's eyes first widen in surprise, then narrow in anger.
"I'm not done—"
"Oh, you absolutely are," Keefe corrected him, more angry than he'd been in a long time. More angry than he'd ever been during a conversation with his father. He knew his dad hadn't even hit his stride yet, that the worst was yet to come, and he had no intention on letting it happen.
"You will not walk into my space, my room, and speak to me that way," Keefe continued. "In fact, let me be perfectly clear: you will not speak to me that way again, ever. I'm not a kid anymore and I don't have to listen to it. I'm more than happy to just be done with you. I have my friends, I have my accomplishments both with school and with the Black Swan, and yes—I have an incredible girlfriend who loves me and thinks I'm worth something. And those things are enough for me. Alden was always a better father to me than you were, and now Grady is too. And that's enough. I don't need anything from you."
Cassius' face was red, and for a moment Keefe remembered the day he'd torn up all of Keefe's artwork.
Keefe wasn't entirely certain he'd be able to refrain from physically stopping his father if Cassius tried something like that again.
Punching his dad in the face was inadvisable but incredibly tempting.
"You have the audacity to speak to me that way? To be so disrespectful—"
"Yes, yes I do. You never treated me with the basic dignity and respect that every person deserves, so why should I treat you any better?"
"Such arrogance!"
Keefe shrugged. "I learned it from the best," he said, gesturing at his father. "Now get out."
"Excuse me?"
"Get. Out. I have plans with people who actually care about me, with people I actually want to be around, and you're in the way."
Thankfully, his dad left, slamming the door behind him.
Keefe's anger didn't dissipate with his father's departure.
Years of emotional and verbal abuse were crashing down on Keefe, his anger and resentment coming to a head at least.
But he was late for Sophie.
So he grabbed his Havenfield home crystal—thinking about how Havenfield had become home in a way neither Candleshade nor the Shores of Solace had ever been—and glittered away.
Grady and Edaline were both busy in the pastures but called out a quick hello. Keefe kept his voice even as he called back to them, and was grateful he didn't have to face them yet. He knew he couldn't hide his anger on close inspection, his jaw was still clenched and he was tense and, for some reason, couldn't stop shaking. He wasn't ready to deal with their parental concern, which was something he normally loved, but not right now.
Keefe knew Sandor could tell he was angry, but he must've trusted that Keefe's anger has nothing to do with Foster so he didn't say anything.
And the moment she laid eyes on him, she hit him with an overwhelming amount of concern. Then she jumped up and rushed over to him.
"Keefe, what is it? I've never seen you look so angry."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, willing himself to stop trembling.
And just being near her helped a little.
"Keefe?" She asked again after a moment.
"I had a visit from my dad just now." He was still so angry.
Sophie grimaced. "That doesn't sound good."
"No. No, it wasn't. He made sure I knew he didn't appreciate that I'm not making higher grades than Fitz. That we have so much more to prove now thanks to my mom. What he didn't understand is that I'm not a kid anymore and I'm not just going to take it when he acts like a jerk."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I'm not just going to cower and let him talk down to me anymore. I used to just take it, and maybe have some bitter or snide remarks but my rebellion was quieter. But today I decided. I'm through. We really had it out." He paused for a second and shook his head. He didn't want to relive it. "There's no point giving you a play-by-play. I think you get the gist. But I'm just so...frustrated."
He was still shaking as she wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so sorry, Keefe," she whispered.
He laughed bitterly. "Yeah, so am I. I'm surrounded by people that have parents who love them, who support them. Meanwhile, all I've ever had is parents who lie, whose emotions made it all too clear I was nothing to them. And most of the time I've come to terms with that. I have Alden and Della. I have Grady and Edaline now, thanks to you. And even Elwin...also partly thanks to you and the number of injuries we've sustained since we met," he added, trying to smirk but mostly failing.
"But today...today I'm angry."
Sophie squeezed him tighter. "I'm so sorry. How can I help? Do you want to go for a walk? A ride with Silveny?"
"Yes. No. I don't know." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Maybe, yeah. I have all this nervous energy I need to get out."
"This is why humans hit things...and sometimes each other," Sophie told him. "I know elves have better ways to deal with things, but I don't know what that would be."
I very nearly hit him anyway.
"Usually I can hide my anger behind jokes, but not today." He shrugged.
She leaned up on her toes to peck him on the cheek. "I love you. I'm sorry."
Then, she took his face between her hands and looked intently into his eyes. "But you listen to me. You may feel like you are nothing to your parents but that is NOT who you are. They were stupid and wrong and blind. Ask each and every one of our friends and they will tell you the same thing. You are an incredible person, Keefe. My favorite person."
He knew that, but he always loved it when she said it.
He opened his mouth to tell her she didn't have to give him a speech—even though he was loving it—but she gave a tiny shake of her head and kept talking.
"And the fact that you are so kind, and caring, and so able to show me how much you love me—when you didn't have that growing up—it's astounding. You amaze me. So don't let your parents get in the way of knowing who you are or how important you are. Got it?"
Keefe attempted a smile. How could he be so angry with his dad and yet so overcome with love for this girl who never failed to care for him? The two emotions were at war within him.
"I know all of that," he told her quietly. "But I still love to hear it, especially from you. I know my parents did everything wrong—but still, you want your parents to like you, you know?"
"Well just think... everything your parents did to you, stops with you."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you are nothing like your parents. Someday, you'll be a really great dad. Our kids will know—with or without being Empaths—how much you love them."
He smiled softly, feeling that thrill he always got when they talked about having kids. So openly and casually discussing how they would marry and spend an eternity together. So he tried to cling to that happiness and push the anger away.
She loved him, and being close with her like this was an immense comfort.
He was going to chase that feeling.
"And how much I love you," he reminded her. "They'll always know that too."
Before she could respond, he leaned down and kissed her.
And it was a balm to his soul. Sophie, the feel of her so close to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, the intensity of her emotions.
She loved him.
She was in love with him.
And the love he felt—for her and from her—was such a contrast to the hatred he felt for his father.
He'd tried to avoid putting words to it for a long time, even though he'd been feeling it.
He knew kids were supposed to love their parents.
And parents were supposed to love their kids.
His parents hadn't loved him, not properly, not ever.
And today he finally, fully acknowledged that his dislike for his father had turned to hatred.
And he wanted so desperately to push that away, to cling instead to his love for this beautiful girl in his arms...and her love for him.
Still chasing that feeling she gave him, he held her a little tighter than usual. Kissed her a little rougher.
When they'd first gotten together, they had set some boundaries for themselves, lines they didn't want to cross while they were just dating.
Any time he felt tempted to cross the lines, he'd been able to immediately take a step back, remain in control of himself.
But today? He wasn't being careful today.
He wanted to get lost in Sophie, wanted to forget everything and everyone else.
It was such comfort.
And she didn't seem to mind.
He felt her emotions shift as she pressed in closer, leaving absolutely no space between them. And then her hands moved into his hair, but instead of playing with it, she grabbed hold, clutching it in her fists.
That was new.
And he liked it. He couldn't stop his sharp intake of breath—it was an involuntary response.
He should've realized, then, that he was losing control. Especially when he broke the kiss, without giving it any conscious thought, and began planting kisses slowly along her jaw and down her neck.
And her mood shifted further as she tilted her head slightly, exposing more of her neck as a sigh escaped her lips.
That little sound she made, along with the way her emotions were asking for more...it was very intoxicating.
She'd given him a silent yes. An invitation.
Seemingly of their own accord, his hands slowly moved from her waist, moving down, reaching for the hem of her tunic, sliding underneath it.
But somehow, something in him said no, not like this!!
He couldn't live with himself knowing he'd broken the rules they'd set for themselves—no matter how much she liked it—because he was angry with his dad.
His dad had caused him enough trouble already.
So with a great effort of will, he released her and backed away, breathing hard. "No."
Sophie just looked at him, also breathing hard, and seemed to be waiting for him to speak again.
He brought a hand—shaking again—up to run his fingers through his hair, trying to pull himself together.
Because part of him definitely still wanted to continue down the path they'd just been on.
"Sophie...I love you. But I don't know that we should be alone together right now. My chosen source of comfort if I stay here..."
"Oh." Her cheeks turned red and he could feel her mood shift again as she, too, thought about where they had just been headed. "Oh."
His eyes darted from Sophie to the bed mere feet away from them. Calling for him. Tempting him.
And then he backed away another step.
I can't. Not. like. this.
"We made a commitment to only doing things in the proper time," he told he quietly. "But I've never been so tempted..." he took a shaky breath. "I'm not going to let my dad get in the way, not with this. I love you too much for that. I told you, I don't want to mess this up. You're too important."
Sophie gave him a small smile. "Why don't you go hang out with Fitz? He has done really well figuring out how to handle things when he gets mad. He could probably help you figure out how to calm down."
He smiled, relieved she wasn't mad at him.
She could've been. She may not have been telling him no, but he shouldn't have been pushing those boundaries in the first place.
"You're right. I'm so sorry about this."
"Don't be. It's just as much my fault as yours. And you stopped before things went too far."
"Barely," he whispered. He slowly, carefully stepped back towards her, held both of her hands in his so he wouldn't be tempted to put them anywhere else, and kissed her goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow, Foster."
He held his Foxfire crystal up to the light, smiling softly at her, and leapt away.