《 make-up kisses 》

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HUMAN AU

"Sophie?" Keefe called, rapping his paint-stained knuckles against a rosewood door. He'd been knocking so long he was certain he'd acquired at least two splinters. Maybe more.

What really baffled him, though, was that after their fight Sophie had chosen to hide in a linen closet. It made him want to laugh — and cry at the hysterics of this whole situation.

Keefe knew he'd messed up. And not just a little slip, not just a one-time occurrence, but an entire three weeks of rippling mistakes.

"Sweetheart," he said, knocking again. The closet door was sparse of a lock, indication that Keefe could easily pull her out. But he didn't want to force her. If she wanted to come out — or rather, if she wanted to forgive him — she'd show herself.

Sophie's voice trembled from the other side. "Don't even start."

"Please let me talk to you."

"Like you haven't even looked at me for the past month?"

Keefe grimaced, tearing a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry I've been distant, love. I really am. I just have so many finals coming up . . ."

Sophie sniffled, and Keefe wanted nothing more than to pull her against his chest, hold her in his arms just like he used to. He missed her.

"You should've let me help you," Sophie whispered. "You know I wanted to."

Keefe sighed. Of course she was right — she always was. But over the past little while he'd been too focused on his education, too stressed over finding a job good enough to support them. Too focused on everything that had nothing to do with his wife's happiness.

"I know, Foster." He pressed his hand against the door, wondering if hers was pressed there too, on the other side. His brow creased as his forehead joined his hand. "And I know I'm a jerk. Just come out, please."

"Give me a good reason why."

"Because I miss you. And I want to apologize to your pretty face instead of a linen closet."

When he banged his head against the door in frustration, he heard something from the other side that almost resembled a laugh.

His lips quirked. But after a few moments of waiting, she still hadn't emerged.

"Please, love," he begged. "I'll do anything."

At a moment's notice, the door creaked open. Sophie walked out, twisted to close the door, and leaned against it. She'd pinned her pretty blonde waves into a messy bun atop her head — and, in all honesty, it made Keefe really weak for her.

"Anything?" she repeated, wearing a frown.

He swallowed. "Well, as long as you aren't planning to shave my head, then yes, I'll do anything."

"Okay, no shaving," Sophie agreed. Her face was completely deadpan when she added, "I'll only cut a few inches off."

Keefe stared at her in horror. He knew very well that she'd cut his hair if she had reason to. And this . . . this was a good excuse —

A hysterical laugh bubbled in Sophie's throat. "I scared you, didn't I?"

"You're not cutting my hair?"

"No. That's a punishment for both of us, and you are the only one I'm willing to punish."

"So you're saying you like my hair?"

Smirking, Sophie uncrossed her arms. She reached up, untying her messy bun, and let her long blonde hair tumble over her shoulders and down her back. Keefe straightened. He wasn't the only one in this household that favored their spouse's hair.

He reached out to tug on one of the strands near her ear. They were softer than they rest, and they curled in contrast. But before his fingers could make contact, Sophie swatted his hand away. "I want an apology," she said.

"Right." Keefe pulled his hand away, wishing his aching for her didn't linger in the air so tangibly. "Love, I'm really bad at admitting I was wrong — I think you know that by now."

Sophie nodded. "That's all I want, Keefe. Just a sincere apology."

"That's it?"

She fiddled with the sleeves of her lacy white blouse. "And a bear hug. I want one of those too."

"I'm afraid my bear hugs don't come without kisses."

"I think I can live with that."

Keefe grinned. Slowly, he was wearing away her anger. But he knew the final step was to apologize, and the words gathering inside him had clumped in his throat. Sophie's smile faded as she watched him, anticipation prevalent in each of her body movements: her fingers, sliding over the railing of the little staircase tucked into the corner. Her eyes, twitching.

Keefe struggled to breathe. He didn't know why this was so hard for him. He'd spend years of school in and out of detention, forced to apologize to teachers, students, and anyone else remotely effected by his elaborate pranks.

But this was different.

Saying sorry to Sophie meant admitting that he'd made his best friend unhappy. For weeks.

Breathing deeply, he tore a hand through his hair. The style he'd spent over an hour on that morning was instantly ruined.

"Hey." When Keefe continued to wreck his hair, Sophie reached for his hands. "Is there something you. . ." She trailed off, and when she met his eyes said, "Are you okay?"

"I don't deserve that question."

"You usually do." She watched him with cold, but worried eyes.

Due to the little space of their apartment, sunlight stretched from one window to the next, highlighting every inch of Sophie's face. She looked so beautiful. And he wanted to tell her.

But there were more important things to do.

He held out his arms to her, waiting, just waiting for her to take them. Warily, Sophie complied. And only when she was chest-to-chest with him did he tilt her chin up and say, "I'm so sorry, love. I —"

His voice cracked, but Sophie stared up at him with a soft, pleading expression. He cupped her cheeks, guilt-ridden by the tears gathering in her eyes.

"I know I handled it wrong," he said quietly. "I thought I needed to do everything on my own — and I was wrong." He pressed a hand to his furrowed brow, massaging his skin.

Sophie looped her arms around his shoulders, peace overturning the hurt in her face. "Anything you'd like to ask me?"

Keefe ran his fingers lightly up and down her arms. Oh how he'd missed touching her. She always felt so good between his arms, so warm and small and soft. He smiled. Leaning in close, he whispered, "Will you help me study for Chemistry?"

Sophie's arms instantly tightened around him, her lips crashing into his. "There's my boy." She kissed him for a few moments before adding, "I knew you were in there somewhere."

Relief traveled hot over his face. "You forgive me?"

Sophie's fingers were gentle as they threaded through his mussed hair. "Just promise me it won't happen again."

"Promise," he murmured, kissing her deeper.

Sophie succumbed to the feeling, surrendering fully to the custody of his arms around her. They were still busy kissing when Keefe found the space to ask, "Do I still have to sleep on the couch?"

Laughing, Sophie merely shook her head.

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