Hold On I Still Need You

-Keefe's Determination-

Sophie's POV:

I sit on the edge of my bed, hands clenched in my lap, staring at the floor. The suffocating silence in the room weighs heavy on me. My head aches from the relentless questions I can't answer. The decision about my treatment, meant to bring hope, feels like a heavy chain around my chest. They said it's the safer, more manageable choice. But what about the part of me that wants to fight for a real recovery?

I struggle to concentrate on anything as the overwhelming exhaustion takes over. My body feels drained, and my mind is clouded. The sense of isolation and loneliness weighs heavily on me, making it hard to cope. I wonder how much longer I can endure this.

The door squeaks open, and Keefe enters the room. His eyes immediately lock onto me, filled with concern. "Hey," he greets, his tone too cheery for the somber atmosphere. "Are you alright?"

I initially tried to ignore him, focusing on the ground, hoping he would go away. However, Keefe never gives up easily, especially with me.

"Hey, Foster," he called out, his voice overly cheerful, clearly trying to divert my attention. "Why do you think Seagulls don't fly over the bay? Because they would be bagels!"'—because seagulls—never mind, you're not laughing. I'll work on my jokes."

His words lingered in the air, and the absurdity of the situation made me almost frown. Part of me felt like rolling my eyes, but another part, the one that recalled the joy of my laughter not long ago, wanted to smile.

Keefe must have noticed the look in my eyes because he continued, "Okay, okay, fine. Tough crowd." He then put on an exaggerated frown and made a dramatic expression of disappointment that almost made me laugh. "How about this one: Why do cow milking stools only have three legs?" He paused for a moment and then grinned as if he had already won. "Cause the cow's got the udder."

I bit my lip, trying to suppress a smile. His silly behavior was just a part of who he was. Despite myself, I found myself missing it. I missed how he could make everything feel lighter.

However, the burden of everything - the doubts, the worries, the things I couldn't shake off - weighed heavily on me. His carefree attitude couldn't erase that. But Keefe wasn't ready to give up. "You used to laugh at my terrible jokes all the time. Come on, just one little giggle? For old times' sake?"

The words resonated deep within me, evoking memories of simpler times when laughter came effortlessly and life felt lighter. I longed for that sense of ease and relief, if only for a fleeting moment. Eventually, a small, almost hesitant laugh escaped me, but seeing Keefe's smile made it all worthwhile.

I wasn't sure how I ended up here, sitting on a rock in the middle of the forest with Keefe. But somehow, it felt like the world had paused just for a moment. The wind rustled the leaves around us, but the tension I'd been carrying for weeks—months—seemed to loosen, even if just a little.

Keefe nudged my shoulder with his, a mischievous grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "So, imagine this: a fire-breathing unicorn. But instead of fire, it spits... glitter."

I blinked, not sure if I should laugh or be completely weirded out.

"It's a dangerous glitter, of course," Keefe continued, gesturing dramatically as if he were giving a performance. "It's lethal, in the sense that it sticks to everything and never comes off. You can't get rid of it. You'll be finding sparkles on your clothes for weeks."

I let out a soft snort before quickly clearing my throat, pretending it hadn't happened.

Keefe shot me a knowing look, his eyebrows waggling. "Oh, I heard that. A snort! I'm getting closer to making you laugh, aren't I?"