*Discontinued* SoKeefe! Its Always Been You

He wanted to be angry.

Keefe walked down the pastures of Havenfield.
He didn't stop by the house to say hi to his girl, it was almost 3AM and he didn't want to disturbe her, just like he didn't disturb the blood running down his cheek from the gash along his cheekbone.

The feeling of it gave him a purpose. It let him stay angry, right now that was all he wanted to be. He wanted to be angry.
At his father, wanted to be angry with his mother, wanted to be angry with himself, and he wanted to be angry at the world for what it had become.

He hadn't really known where he was going when he left, he just knew it was better to get away, then cry in front of Cassius Sencen.

He had just reached into his pocket and pulled out the Home Crystal that Sophie had given him earlier that day, telling him, that he always had a place here. . . a place with her.
And god if he didn't love her for it.

But now that he was alone, he let the tears fall.
He let them stream down his face with no restraint.

He cried for the mother that he had loved, for the father whom he should have been able to love, and who should have loved him. Not for anything that Keefe had done, but for the simple fact that he was he's son!

His photographic memory threw him back to the scene earlier that night of him and his father arguing, about his relationship with Sophie, of course. His father didn't approve, but Keefe had quite frankly told his father that he didn't give a shit.

Well. . . that had pissed Cassius off. There had been quite extensive yelling and hollering, the usual, "you're no son of mine!" And "I'd disown you, if I didn't think you'd die on your own!"
Right before he picked up a vase and threw it. Not directly at Keefe who was standing against the wall, after being roughly shoved against it by the collar of his shirt, but right beside his head close enough that the sharp, shards that broke off sliced his cheek open.

He had barely flinched when he was cut, he hardly felt the sting of glass cutting his flesh, barely felt it over the hurt that was so much worst. His father looking directly at it, dismissing it. . . he didn't even care that this time he had actually hurt his son. he turned away.
And Keefe had grabbed his Crystal before his father got another idea to throw something else at him. But he wouldn't be surprised if half the manor was trashed when he got back.

He could feel it now though, the salt from his tears stung the gash. Nothing compared to the breaking of his heart.

This was stupid! So. So. Stupid! Him and his father had never gotten along he shouldn't get this upset finding out his father actually hated him.

The word sent a new flood of tears trickling down his face again, right after he was sure he'd cried them all out. It only made him more angry with himself, he wasn't a baby and yet here he was doing exactly what babies do, crying! He was pathetic. A screw up. Stupid. So very, very stupid!

Maybe his father was right about him. He didn't understand why he would hate him otherwise, Keefe knew he hid who he was behind jokes, but he couldn't remember when it had started. He just knew his father had always disliked him and he always hid who he was from him. Keefe didn't trust his father, that's why he never opened up. He never remembered ever being open with him and now that he thought about it. . . he never wanted to be!

He kept walking as the air grew frosted around him, weird. It was Spring.
But he paid it no mind.
Just kept walking, hands tucked deep into his pockets, eyes downcast, thoughts running.

Sure he was sad for what he could have had with his father but didn't. But mostly he was angry, angry at himself for letting himself care so much about the father who hated him. Hated him! Because deep down he just wanted his fathers love. Was that too much to ask for? Apparently it was!