• HUMAN AU •
"Foster?"
As Keefe entered their apartment, shrugging off his coat in the process, he called out to his wife. "I'm home, love."
He waited, pausing to hang his coat and snatch an apple out of the fruit bowl resting on the table. As he pulled away, his fingers dragging lightly over dark oak, he listened. Still, there was no answer.
"Foster?" he called again. In an apartment this small, he highly doubted she'd be able to miss a yell, much less one from her husband. But her lack of response contradicted that.
Keefe wiped the apple on his sleeve and begrudgingly abandoned it. For now, his hunger would have to wait — even if he hadn't eaten anything all day.
He headed down the hall and into the living room — both of which were strewn with Keefe's drawings. Framed on walls, laying atop bookshelves, collecting dust on the mantle . . . everywhere.
Sophie loved to keep their household sentimental. Keefe, on the other hand, couldn't care less. But each time he snuck a drawing down, it was replaced by at least three more in punishment. He swore there was no pleasing that girl.
Shaking his head at her antics, Keefe glanced up at the loft. It sat atop the living room, only enterable by a steep stairway Sophie was always struggling on.
In an apartment complex this small, second floors were rare, but Keefe had managed it for his wife. With a career like painting, money was hard to come by.
Shoving the thoughts into the depths of his mind, Keefe reached for the railing and climbed the stairs two at a time.
His confusion, upon entering, melted into worry. Sophie was sitting beside the fireplace, her knees tucked into her chest. On her opposite side, a mirror spanned the entire wall. She stared into it with wet eyes. Only after noticing that did Keefe also realize goosebumps were erupting on her arms.
"Sophie," Keefe whispered.
Jerking in surprise, his wife let out a relieved whimper. "Keefe."
So focused on reaching her, Keefe narrowly avoided the four-poster bed taking residence in the middle of the loft. Recovering, he sat, pulling her into his arms. Regardless of what was wrong, it was clear she needed a bear hug — now.
Sophie nestled her face in his chest. Her voice was soft. "When did you get home?"
"Just a minute ago. You didn't hear me?"
"No."
Worry wedged in Keefe's throat. After work, Sophie was usually the one to track him down first. Inhaling, he said, "Love, what's wrong?"
Sophie lifted her head. She looked exhausted. And gorgeous — but he figured now was not the time to get lost in his wife's beauty, even if she was wearing his favorite shade of pink.
Keefe glanced in the mirror. He hadn't failed to notice she'd been crying while staring at her reflection.
"Are you sad?" Keefe lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"I'm trying not to be."
Sophie tried to curl into herself, but Keefe wouldn't let her. Long hugs could work miracles, and by no means was he letting her escape early.
"It's okay," Keefe soothed, tucking a curl behind her ear. "It's okay to be sad."
"I hate feeling like this."
Anguished on her behalf, Keefe breathed, flashbacks invading his mind. Sophie hadn't always been in so much pain — he knew it. When they'd gotten married, he doubted she'd even known what depression was.
But now . . .
Sophie began to cry. Once the tears had started she buried her face in her hands, raw emotion revealing itself.
"Foster." Keefe held her as close as possible without restricting her oxygen. "I love you so, so much."
She sniffled. During a bad day like this, he couldn't expect anything less than red-rimmed eyes and goosebumps.
When Keefe caught her staring into the mirror once more, he had to ask, "Why are you looking at yourself like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like . . . like you're not pretty."
Sophie shrugged, as if to say don't know, don't care. "Who said I was pretty?"
"Me," Keefe emphasized, "and everyone else on this planet."
"That's not true."
"Yes, love. It is." Keefe leaned in to kiss her forehead. "Plus, you're not allowed to argue with me."
A smile twitched on her lips. "Why not?"
"In this situation, I am very much smarter than you. You're gorgeous; deal with it."
This time, Sophie couldn't hide her smile. She ducked her head, a faint blush on her cheeks. Keefe snatched the moment.
He sat in front of the mirror, cross-legged, and pulled Sophie into his lap. Once she could stare at herself head-on, he said, "Tell me something you love about yourself."
She blanched. With a head tilt, Sophie looked at him in helplessness. It made his heart ache.
"C'mon," he prompted.
"I . . . I don't know."
Keefe leaned back against the bed, allowing his wife the time to really study herself. "It can be anything. How you look, how you act, your talents . . ."
"Being a klutz?" she offered.
"You are good at that," Keefe teased. "But that's not what I'm looking for."
"What are you looking for?"
He rested his hands on her waist, allowing his warmth to find her. "I want you to recognize how wonderful you are. I want you to love yourself the way I love you."
Sophie turned in his arms, her eyes watering. "That might take a long time."
Keefe ached all over. Not only because he was starving but because Sophie's pain was mutual between them. He hurt when she did.
"That's alright," he promised. "It's not something you're going to master overnight. But you are going to get better at it."
"I don't know . . ."
"Tell me," Keefe insisted, helping her to her feet. He spun her in a circle, letting her admire how graceful she was with his support. "Tell me something you adore about yourself."
Sophie paused. She stared at herself in the mirror, at her pretty blonde waves, her soft curves, at the hands that were made to be held in Keefe's. As she thought, he left a kiss behind her ear and nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck.
Sophie giggled, unable to maintain the sound any longer. And she smiled — smiled at her reflection as she took his hand in her own.
"I love how happy I am," she admitted, "when I'm with you."
A smile played on Keefe's lips.
Though that hadn't been the answer he'd expected, nor was it completely relevant to her, it was still beautiful.
He kissed her smile before it could fade. To his delight, it grew wider as he kissed her further. "Me too, love."
