Sokeefe Oneshots

Misunderstood (Part Three)

Sophie's mind practically exploded with questions as her muscles tensed up, and she froze, almost afraid to breathe. What was Keefe doing in her room? Did he realize she was awake? Should she say something? Was that a terrible idea?

Before she could open her mouth, he continued in a hoarse whisper. "I'm such a jerk. I hate to admit it, Foster, but you're right: I'm reckless and irresponsible and thoughtless, and I don't deserve your friendship. Then I went and got those girls to come meet with me in front of you because I thought it would be cool or something stupid, and... gah," he moaned, and she heard rustling. She guessed he was running a frustrated hand through his hair, messing up its careful perfection.

There was silence for a moment, and Sophie wondered if he had left for a second. Then he spoke again. "You looked so beautiful tonight, Foster. So, so, so beautiful. I swear my heart stops just looking at you sometimes. I could barely stop staring at you when dinner was over, when I knew you weren't watching." He groaned again. "Ugh, why am I such an idiot? You deserve so much better than me. I'm a worthless jerk. And there's more!" He laughed softly, bitterly. "I'm selfish, too. I'm selfish because sometimes I think about telling you how I really feel about you instead of hurting every day like this. But you're too good for me and you know it. I guess you picked up on that faster than I did, huh?" He chuckled bitterly, and Sophie felt her heart break a little. Why did he have to make it so hard to stay mad at him?

She felt light pressure on the bed near her feet, and quickly realized Keefe must have sat down. She opened her eyes — only a crack — and just in the far corner of her eye, she could finally see him. His eyes were wet; it made his ice blue irises look like small oceans in the moonlight streaming through the crack in the curtains. They held enough depths for that to be true, Sophie noted. She felt another pang of guilt, and something else that she couldn't name. Whatever it was, the powerful mix made her gasp softly.

Keefe's head snapped up, and Sophie wished she could hit herself in the head. How could she blow her cover like that? Was she really that bad at stealth?

Thankfully, after a second, Keefe looked back at his hands, which he was fidgeting with on his lap. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know this, even if you won't remember when you wake up... Look, I know I crack a lot of jokes, and I have this whole troublemaker thing going on, but I swear, the last thing I've wanted to do since day one when I first set eyes on you was hurt you. You're the only one who takes me seriously. You're the only one that... gets me. Not even Fitz can ever get it, and we may as well be brothers at this point. Besides all his Alvar drama, he's always had everything handed to him on a golden platter. Literally. And I just... I didn't really have anyone. Until you."

He fell silent. Sophie opened her mouth, bracing herself to sit up and give away that she was awake so she could kindly ask him to leave (yes, he was apologizing. But not for the right things, and she really didn't have any strength left at this time of night to really deal with him). But before she could, she saw from the corner of here eye Keefe run a hand down his face, as if he were in pain, and he spoke yet again. Sophie held in a muffled scream of frustration. Why couldn't he just stop for one second so she could ask him to go away? All she wanted in that moment was to sink into a deep, deep sleep and not wake up again for a few days. Or weeks.

Honestly, she didn't even really understand why she was so angry with him. She'd told him all she understood about the jumble of emotions thrashing in her heart, but most of the feelings yearning to be freed were completely foreign to her. In truth, she just wanted him gone so she didn't have to feel anymore. It was getting harder and harder by the minute.

Her mind re-focused on his words before a fraction of a second was up from the time he opened his mouth to speak. "Foster— Sophie..." He ran a hand through his hair again, looking drained and lost. Something tugged in her heart for him, but she refused to feel it. "Ugh, I'm too good at avoiding the point, huh? Lying is so much easier than this. But the least I owe you is the truth, even if you're sleeping while I spill it. So... I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry." He shifted in his seat gently to face her, and she quickly snapped her eyes shut. "I don't know how much the Forklenator told you, so I'll just start from the beginning.