CURSING WARNING
TRIGGER WARNING

playlist;
bleeding love ; leona lewis
battle scars ; lupe fiasco, guy sebastian
i can't fall in love without you ; zara larsson

Tick.

It was hard to come by the fact that the person whom you had deep feelings for.. . . Didn't feel the same. Felt very differently, in fact.

It wasn't that she didn't love him or even simply care for him - she did, actually. She had a deep love for him, that was platonic, of course. He could learn to be satisfied with that - just because they didn't see eye to eye on progressing the relationship to different terms didn't mean that he had to entirely drop her as a friend. It made no sense to do so, in fact. If they both had so much in common that one would even consider taking the relationship to some other level, then why, if they decided against that, would they cut off contact with each other? Why would they discard such a sacred friendship?

But that wasn't the issue. There was more to this equation.

She loved him. That him.

Fitz.

Keefe had known it from the very start. He'd seen it the day she had strolled into his life. She was some lovesick puppy, with big entrancing eyes and a will so strong to do anything for that boy.

That boy was that way with her, too. He'd set aside time for her, showered her with gifts and compliments, and had taken his time.

Fitz had always been the perfect type. He had always acted that way, so Keefe could see exactly why Sophie had taken a liking to him. And even if it wasn't for that gentleman attitude, the perfect family, and everything else that made everyone so dazzled, Keefe knew Sophie wouldn't have chosen him.

Strip that all away from Fitz, and he would still be a better person. He didn't have all the issues that Keefe held and he didn't have a terrible reputation linked to his name.

Keefe knew all of this to be true, and yet for some reason, he couldn't contain himself. He went out of his way to make time with her, to take time from others away so that he could fill that gap, to crack jokes, to make her smile, just just be right there. If he had so much as the chance to simply stand next to her, he was going to fill that spot immediately.

He knew he was being selfish and he knew he was being rude to everybody else - especially Sophie - because she wasn't his. She wasn't his property and she sure as hell didn't owe him any Foster-Keefe time.

But he needed it. He craved it. All he wanted was her and her attention and her smile and laugh and eyes and hair and stupid puns and gangly limbs and stubborn persistence and. . .

Everything. Anything.

Tick.

His heart was hammering in the back of his throat as she approached him, and he nonchalantly crossed his arms and leaned his head back on the trunk, closing his eyes so that he wouldn't have to make eye contact with her. He didn't want there to be any chance of her figuring out how wild he was driven by her.

"Hi," she greeted, sinking down onto the grass beside him. She leaned against the tree trunk and Keefe tensed when their shoulders brushed together.

Keefe tentatively opened his eyes, squinting, and Sophie giggled. She nudged his shoulder. "Come on. Open up. What are you doing here?"

Keefe opened his eyes fully with a sigh, readjusting his position against the trunk so that it wasn't digging into his shoulders. Once he was comfortable, he wiped the dirt off of his pants and shot Sophie a grin. He was satisfied when he watched Sophie's face darken and felt the butterflies erupt in her stomach.

"What's it to you, Foster?"

Sophie brushed hand through her hair, tucking some of her hairs behind her red ears. She sat patiently, waiting until the colour had begun to drain from her face. "Honestly?" she started, shrugging. "I'm worried."

Keefe's heart dropped at that. His smile faded and he avoided all eye contact, sighing deeply. "I'm fine, Foster. I'm just sitting against a tree, all right? If you want to find someone who's angsty that you'd enjoy fixing, go talk to Bangs Boy."

Sophie sat in silence for a second before she turned a looked at him pointedly. "Keefe," she beckoned quietly.

Keefe ran a hand through his hair, giving in and locking eyes with her. "What? Seriously, Foster, I'm fine."

Sophie frowned, lifting up her hand. It had been clear she was going to set it on his shoulder, but Keefe flinched a little and Sophie recoiled slowly, setting her hand in her lap. She stared at her lap for a few seconds before mumbling, "You, uh. . . You left."

Keefe's eyebrows rose at the statement. "What?" He knew he shouldn't have been giving in, because she was only promoting him so that she could keep the conversation going.

"You left," Sophie began slowly, "when I was talking with Fitz."

The accusation hung between them for a few seconds. Keefe mentally winced.

It was true. They'd all been hanging out in the pastures of Havenfield and Fitz had gotten a little too handsy with Sophie, for Keefe to bear - so, in some childlike rage, he'd turned and stormed off. He hasn't meant to make a scene, but he was fully aware that he had.

But he couldn't just ignore what was going on between the two of them. He couldn't stand there and deal with the flare of jealousy he got anytime Fitz made Sophie smile.

"Yeah. . ." He cringed, trying to form an answer that wouldn't get him in trouble. Keefe couldn't let Sophie catch on to why Fitz and his relationship had turned so sour. Though, to be fair, Foster was oblivious as always.

"It's nothing," he promised, practically waving her off. "You and Fitzy were just recreating another one of your 'staring into each other's eyes' moments, so I decided to leave you to that." He said it with as big of a smile as he could manage, but it clearly wasn't enough as only the faintest crept into Sophie's cheeks.

"Keefe," she tried again after clearing her throat. He leaned against the tree trunk with a dejected sigh, knowing she wasn't going to listen.

"Sophie," he replied, giving her a pointed look. She furrowed her eyebrows at him and he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he looked away. "Just. . . Nevermind."

Sophie's lips pursed in confusion, eyebrows knit. Keefe could see it out of the corner of his eye, and he tried his very best to stay focused on his hands in his lap and not give her the satisfaction of knowing he was (occasionally) peeking at her. Hopefully, she would just drop it. That was all he wanted. He couldn't deal with this right now. He didn't want to talk about her and Fitz and the whole—

Keefe inhaled sharply when Sophie intertwined their hands and he nearly ripped his hand away our of shock. But Sophie casually held on tight, not allowing him to yank his hand away. She watched him softly for a few seconds before she said, "You can tell me anything."

Keefe's heart started racing at that, but he kept his cool, shrugging nonchalantly. He willed his Sophie-interlocked-palm not to sweat as he thought over her words.

He wanted to say something, but his fear was bullying him into silence. He already knew the answer.

Yet, a few seconds later, half-against his own will, he forced out, "Anything?"

Sophie's eyebrows perked up at the question and with absolutely no hesitance, she bobbed her head. "Anything," she confirmed, giving his hand a squeeze.

His heart jumped at that. Maybe it wouldn't hurt. There was a chance she felt the same way, right? After all, he'd picked up on some very interesting Foster Feelings here and there, so. . .

Was he really considering doing this?

His heart was beating erratically in his chest and it only picked up its pace when he met her crystallized honey gaze.

Yes.

Even though he already knew he was ready to do this, he had to take a few more seconds to focus on his breathing and wind up his courage. But eventually, he whispered with flushed cheeks, ". . . I like you."

Tick.

All Sophie did was blink at first.

Keefe's heart was hammering in his chest as her expression twisted from furrowed brows to open eyes and a mouth fumbling to form words. Her face grew warm with lovely colour and she looked so serene, like some painting, and even in this tense moment he couldn't help but admire her.

Finally, she stuttered out, "W-What?"

He noticed the way he'd hand had twitched, loosening its grip on his own. He looked down at their laced fingers, knowing Sophie was probably figuring out some way to disconnect their hands without being rude.

Besides, she'd already done this once before, so she was a pro. At least he hasn't been the first rejectee. That would have been a rough ride. He couldn't begin to imagine how Dex had felt.

Actually. . . Nope, he could. He felt it right now. It was probably that little pricking pain, constricting his heart and making it hard to breathe.

What was I thinking?

"Uh, nothing," he said quickly, cutting it off. His mind was running a million miles an hour, screaming at himself as to why he had felt the need to say that. He took slipped his clammy hand out of hers, quickly standing up. He started backing up, nervously running his hand repeatedly through his hair, disheveling it. His face heated up with shame, sweltering with the heat of embarrassment.

Sophie blinked, her own cheeks still the same red colour as she tried to hesitantly reach out to him. "Wait, Keefe, just-"

"No," he said immediately, a little too snappily. He felt a pang resound in his chest when he noticed the way her face faltered at the tone of his voice, recoiling her hand slowly. She had been going to get up, but stopped after he said that. He swallowed, turning away entirely so that he didn't have to face her. "Just. . . I need to go."

"Keefe," she tried.

But he was already walking away.

"Bye, Foster," he called, furiously wiping the tears escaping from his eyes.

Sophie didn't try to fight him.

Tick.

When Keefe got home, he didn't really know what else to do but draw. It was always his go-to activity whenever he was feeling. . . Negative.

His breathing was heavy as he stormed into his room, focusing on keeping his tears at bay.

Stupid. Why had he done that?

Angrily, he pulled out the chair from the desk and sat down, wiping away the tears in his eyes.

God, look at me. I'm crying. Why am I crying?

Keefe furiously dug out a pencil from inside the desk's drawer, wiping his eyes again before he set the tip of the pencil down on the paper before him. One deep breath, and he started drawing. Sketching the outline of a curved torso, soft hair, beautiful eyes and the most gorgeous smile, Keefe began breathing heavily. His eyes welled up as his mind envisioned the startled, almost terrified look Sophie had given him when he'd said he'd liked her.

And the way she recoiled. . . The way her emotions bended in some way he hasn't felt before. . .

It made him sick.

His tears dotted the paper, splatting on the sketch of Sophie. There she was, softly grinning with the most adorable glint in her eyes.

God, her eyes.

His mouth was quivering and he sniffled, trying to smile through the pain shooting through his body. He let out a shuddering breath, looking at the picture of her before him.

I don't deserve her.

He sniffled a little, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve as his vision blurred over from the tears clouding his eyes.

Why had he even said that? He'd already known that Sophie liked Fitz. Sophie wanted Fitz - not him. So why had he pushed? Why had he ruined the last chance he had? He'd lost Sophie and her friendship, all because he couldn't keep his mouth shut and his heart quiet.

That was just the issue. No matter how much he had tried to still and quiet the feelings stirring inside of him, he only managed to make it grown and fester into even worse proportions.

Why am I even here? I've only ruined everything for her. For me, too.

Tick.

The more he thought about it, the less he understood. Was there even a purpose for him? His Mom had only had him because of her legacy vision, and his father had never been too. . . keen on his existence itself. And all he had ever done to his friends was disappoint, betray, or hurt them.

I'm so fucked up.

And actually. . . He didn't really care anymore. He'd seen all that he'd needed to. The world was small and cruel and there was really no point in being apart of such a small-minded, heartless place.

Maybe, though, he was just getting it all wrong. Maybe this world was amazing, but he was fucking it all up for himself.

Anyway, it didn't matter. He was making his decision.

This life of his was simply a ticking time bomb, waiting to set off. And all this time, he'd been growing closer to a disaster that he had been bound to crash into. He would have met it at one point, he knew in his gut, but this had simply sped up the timeline. It had been unavoidable, anyway.

Sophie Foster didn't make me do this, he reminded. No, that girl was all kinds of get-in-your-head, but not in this way. Never. She hadn't caused this.

He had.

Tick.

He had always been the one to inflict all of these awful situations on himself.

Ditching classes, causing his grades to plummet, triggering his father to ignite a whole new round of screaming, eliciting anger and hurt and tears and burning lungs, forcing him to run into the bathroom, to hide away from the cruel world outside, to curl up, to be untouched, unloved. . .

To die.

Fuck, his mind whispered.

He was really spiraling downwards. This was really it. This was really all there was left of his life.

Tick.

In one swift motion, he picked up the glass mason jar that was filled with all of his art supplies, lifted it up above his head, and swung it down. It crashed into the floor, glass shards and bits flying all over as pens, pencils, paintbrushes, and assorted artistry items clanged against the floorboards. A few pens rolled for a little while before coming to a stop on the floor, and Keefe's heart followed in tow, crashing to a stop in his chest.

His eyes were beginning to flood over with tears and his stomach was turning sour as he began to come to the realization of what he was really doing.

What was he doing what was he doing what was he doing?

Keefe bent over, brushing through the bits of glass until he found a large shard, picking it up. He stared at It through blurry eyes, his hand shaking as though it weighed a ton.

Tick.

Was he really considering this?

. . .Yes.

Tick.

They were better off without him anyway.

Boom.

Keefe took a deep, shuddering breath, pulling back the sleeve of his shirt. When his forearm was exposed, he pressed the tip of the shard to the center of the inside of his wrist. He sniffled, tears streaming down his face.

One.

Two.

. . . Three.

He pushed down, breaking his skin, causing beads of blood to begin to form. He dug it in as deep as he could, shuddering when He tugged down towards his elbow, ripping and tearing away at his sensitive flesh.

He could smell the sweat on his palms and the planes of his stomach, all the way down to the dip in his back where his spine rest. Inhaling the scent of sour skin oils, he pressed further, deeper, harder, as his eyes burned with stinging tears.

Clenching his jaw, trying to keep the sounds bubbled up in his chest at bay, he finally let his eyes settle on the river that was pooling inside the cut flesh.

It was warm and dark and teeming over, flowing and trailing down his arm as if it were alive. A beautiful river, giving him so. Much. Power.

Over everything. Over anything. Over life itself.

"Keefe?"

He flinched, tensing as he jabbed the blade of glass the wrong way at the subtle action. He was breathing heavily, tears spilling down his cheeks as he turned around, meeting two horrified brown eyes. The gorgeous amber eyes that had haunted his dreams began welling with fresh, vivid tears similar to his own. His heart raked in his chest when he heard the tiniest sob escape past her plush lips.

"Keefe," his angel cried, rushing forward and grabbing both sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. Tears were slipping down her face, soaking her tunic and she quickly flicked her eyes down at the weapon in his palm. She shakily took her hands off of his face, taking the glass out of his clenched hand, prying, but also trying her best not to injure him further as she dislodged it from the cloudy flesh.

He watched it clatter to the ground in his peripheral vision, but he couldn't move even as Sophie sobbed harder, frantically whispering things to herself as she dug through her pockets. Keefe knew she was probably looking for some sort of handkerchief, but he knew better. There was nothing in there. This wasn't going to be an easy fix.

Sorry, Foster.

Sophie whined in frustration, another choked sob slipping past as she tore off her cape, ripping off strips of it, reaching the point of no longer caring.

She wrapped it around and around his arm, increasing the pressure to stop the bloodflow, but making sure it wasn't too tight. She didn't want to hurt him. His angel never did. She was like that.

Sophie took his hand, tugging him down to the ground to sit, and he did as he was non-verbally told. His body seemed to be obeying on autopilot, yet he was also stiffened and staring blankly forward like a statue.

Sophie reached forward again when she ensured that his makeshift bandage was secure, cupping his face tenderly in her hands, sniffling. "Keefe," she choked, gingerly wiping the tears off of his cheeks with her thumbs. "Oh my God. Are you okay? W-Why would you ever. . ?"

"It's okay, Foster," Keefe rasped, hating how he was worrying so much. Hating how he had been such a fool, thinking that no one would find him. Find out about what he was doing. Sophie always managed to find him - it was funny, that way. She always knew.

"No, i-it's not okay," Sophie hiccuped, lip trembling. "I-I can't. . . Keefe. This isn't the way. I know that it isn't my place to say something so. . . So fucking orderly at a time like this, but I promise you that this will not help you. God, Keefe, I. . . I can't lose you, don't. . . D-Don't do that to me."

He reached up with his good arm, placing his hand on top of hers, which was still cupped to one side of his face. He grazed his thumb over her knuckles, the corner of his lip twitching with the tiniest quirk. "Stop rambling, Foster."

"I'm scared," she choked. "What do I do? I-I don't know what do. . . I need to take you to somebody. I can't. . ."

"Please don't tell anybody," Keefe begged, voice strained. His chest constricted a little at the thought of other people finding out, or at the idea of being dragged to someone like Elwin and having to explain how the wounds had been inflicted upon him.

Or more accurately who had inflicted them.

"Why did you do it?' Sophie pressed, hiccuping again. She peered down at his arm, taking one hand off of his face - the one that he wasn't holding - and carefully, she touched the top of the makeshift bandages. She brushed her fingers across them, sniffling. Blood was beginning to darken the fabric, seeping through.

Keefe hummed a little in though, blinking lightly and releasing more tears. Sophie looked him back in the eyes when she felt the tears touch some of her fingers. "I guess I just. . . Hit my end. I should have seen it coming, really. I'm the Empath, after all. Feelings are supposed to be my forte."

Sophie's face grew horrified at that, paling even whiter as she began to realize what he was truly referring to.

"But it's okay," he repeated when he felt her stomach drop. "That isn't your fault. You don't have control over that. I shouldn't have blurted anything out, anyway. I told myself to keep it to myself, but I didn't listen. I didn't mean to bother you." He pressed a little smile again, which made Sophie choke on another sob, a seemingly infinite number of tears cascading down her face and dropping to the ground.

"No," she cried, "Keefe, no. You think I-"

"Don't like me," he finished calmly, nodding. "I know. It's okay. I told you that. This isn't your fault. Don't feel bad. I was spiraling out for awhile. I messed it up all on my own. None of this is your fault, Foster, so please stop thinking that." He dropped his hand off of hers and reached forward, tapping her temple with two fingers. "Because I know you. I know you're doing that."

"Stop it," she snapped suddenly, pushing his hand away from her temple and intertwining their fingers. She latched on like he was her lifeline, like she was his. He blinked behind blurry eyes in surprise at the action, looking into her face and seeing only pure, blazing determination.

"Keefe Sencen, you are an absolute idiot. You're a fool and I don't know what I'm saying so I guess that makes me a fool, too, but I-I'm fucking glad we're both fools! I want to be a fool with you, for Eternlia's sake! But I can't do that if you leave me like that. I need you here with me."

She lifted both their hands up, leaning forward a little to press his hand to her heart. He sucked in a tiny, sharp breath, as she pressed it down, letting his hand feel the itty-btty, rhythmic thump through the walls of flesh. Then she took her own hand as he remained mesmerized by her heartbeat, touching his chest and feeling the pitter patter of his own heart.

In the stillness, locking eyes with his angel, he felt it was probably stupid to be so entranced by something as simple as a heartbeat. But there he was, fresh tears falling from his eyes as his hand explored her steady heartbeat.

"I like you, you idiot," Sophie blubbered, body trembling with her tears. She shook even harder with each breath after stealing another glance at his bandaged arm.

Keefe's heart rate sped up at that, bumping up a few notches in pace, and Sophie seemed to notice. She turned back to him, laughing a little through her bitter tears, grabbing onto the hand he still had placed on her chest.

"You do?" he asked, voice breaking.

"Keefe," she said, shaking her head, lip trembling. "You're so. . . God."

He shuddered lightly, uncontrollably, unable to hold back the happy little feeling jumping and coursing through his body. His spine tingled with anticipation as he met her eyes all over again, feeling himself falling harder. Crashing.

Her lip was quivering as it tugged into a bittersweet smile, her own body shivering as she held on tight to his hand. He could have stared at her forever, simply sitting there and admiring every last piece that was Sophie Foster.

Sophie had different plans, though. She didn't give much warning when she leaned forward, though Keefe didn't blame her. No amount of warning could have ever prepared him for what she was going to do - how she was going to make him feel so utterly out of control.

Keefe sucked in a sharp breath as she maintained eye contact, getting so close and practically pushing their faces together. Their foreheads met, their noses bumped, and Keefe could feel her hot breath on his mouth, and the petal-soft touch of her lips, brushing against his.

His hand was still being held to her heart by her own two hands and he was utterly aware of how taken by her, he was in this moment. In any moment, really.

And then Keefe Sencen was kissing Sophie Foster.

At first he wasn't sure how to react, seeing as he'd never done something like this before. He'd dreamt of it, thought of it, sure - but he'd never really thought he was going to. But he learned after a few seconds of Sophie coaxing his mouth into it, making his head dizzy.

His eyes closed and his brow furrowed as he kissed her back for the first time, deeply.

This is my first kiss. And I'm kissing Sophie Foster.

It was like some sort of sweet fire, taking over his body, a rush of dizzying adrenaline rushing through his veins. It danced, swirling his stomach as he lifted his good arm, brushing back the hair in her face, tucking it behind her ear, and knotting his hand back in her soft hair. It was feverish and crazy, the way she had so much control over him.

God, he loved this girl.

Her mouth suddenly curved against his, an itty bitty hot puff of air brushing over his lips as she let out a breathy laugh. His heart leapt in his chest, ramming against his ribcage. His body tingled with warmth, wanting to give in to the need to shudder. His mind was buzzing, the pain from his arm had all but melted away, and his eyes were still droopy from the kiss.

Sophie was smiling a little when he found the strength to open his eyes fully, watching her in wonder. "Foster," he whispered, his voice hoarse from the kiss.

"I should have just told you," she said, voice hushed. "But I got scared or something, I don't know. It wasn't bad, but I freaked out. I didn't think I was hearing you right or something insane like that. And I'm a coward, anyway. I wouldn't have been able to say that. But I. . ." She sniffled. "I can say that now," she promised, voice dropping lower.

"I like you, Foster," he said, not too sure if he was wanting a redo of the moment of if he just wanted to agree with her. Her reaction was glorious and beautiful, sending butterflies flitting through his stomach. Her face brightened and she dropped her head slightly, chuckling. It was such a magnificent sound, no matter what she thought. She hated hearing it, but it was all he ever wanted to hear.

When she looked back up, her eyes were glittering with something warm, meant just for him. "I like you, too, Keefe. So much." She sniffled again, taking the time to wipe the tears off of his face. He was a bit startled by her thumb brushing them off his cheeks when he had barely been aware that they were there and streaming down, but he quickly melted into her hand. He fluttered his eyes closed, loving every moment of this. All of it. He didn't want any of it to stop.

He could feel the waves of deep concern rushing off of Sophie, but he also took the time to note that he felt a sweet little sensation, humming and enveloping him.

This is for you, it said. This is all for you. I'm giving this to you.

Was it love? Was this love? Was he feeling all of this correctly?

Sophie dropped her hands off of his face and at first his heart stuttered to a stop, but it went right back to beating hard when she started ripping up her cape again, to no end. It was clear that what was on her mind was refreshing the strips on his arm currently, which were soaked.

"Will you go to a doctor for me?" she asked, beginning to diligently and gently unbandaged his arm. She didn't so much as wince or cringe away from the gash and all the blood, and he made note of what a great physician she would make.

She's wonderful at everything.

"Will you let me take you to a doctor?" she rephrased, hoping that that would make him agree. Maybe if she went with him, he'd be alright. Or as alright as he could be.

He bobbed his head, lips still tingling from where hers had been settled. He could still feel a hint of the blinding rush coursing through his veins, there were still some stars dangling behind his eyelids, and he just kept re imagining the feeling of their mouths melding together.

How did she have so much control over him? She wasn't even trying and yet he was all in, no regrets, no second-thoughts. If she asked him him to jump, he would, no questions asked.

"Foster?" he squeaked suddenly, after Sophie had begun to wrap the new strips of cape around his arm. She perked up at his voice, looking up at him, her eyes a wide and calming picture. She continued to loop the cape strips around his arm and bandage all through maintaining eye contact with him.

"Yeah?" she asked softly.

"Can I kiss you?" he requested, spitting out the words so quickly that he almost cut her off. "Again?" he added, cheeks flushing as she turned her own lovely shade of red, reminding him of a blossom he'd seen outside, not too long ago. He'd been planning on painting it, actually.

She fluttered her eyelashes in faint surprise, mouth hanging slightly open, lips parted as she tried to answer him without fumbling. "I. . ." She broke eye contact, finishing up with wrapping the bandage around his arm. He felt some wave of satisfaction from her as she turned his arm over, inspecting it, watching to see if the blood was continuing to flow.

It had seemed to stop. For now, at least.

She turned back to him, realizing that her top priority was currently under control, knowing she didn't have much excuse to say no.

"O-Okay," she agreed timidly, face on fire. He could sense the sparkling excitement radiating off of her and he could practically feel the heat of her pink-tinted skin. Keefe quirked up one corner of his mouth, lifting his good arm up to allow his hand to reach the side of her face again. His calloused fingertips met the soft, supple skin of her cheek and he watched her with tender eyes as she fluttered her eyelids closed, melting into the touch. Keefe smiled faintly, taking his time to lean in and let their noses brush together.

He felt the spark of anticipation from Sophie and he could feel his own, all the same, deep down in the pit of his stomach. His entire body was thrumming with crazy energy, awaiting the rush that he knew was going to come with this kiss.

Sophie pushed forward insistently but gingerly, pressing their foreheads together. They were so close that if Sophie fluttered her eyelashes, they'd almost comb through Keefe's. Keefe smiled a little - he couldn't help it - and he tucked some more of Sophie's soft hair behind her ear at the same time that he closed the last few centimeters between them.

He hadn't really known why he was expecting something different. He expected to be able to find at least a hint of composure in himself the second time, given he knew what it would feel like and how it would make his heart thump uncontrollably. But she was mesmerizing and he was lost all over again. Lost in the way they touched, the way she blinked her droopy eyelids everytime they parted for air, lost in the way that her hands were holding him, keeping all his pieces together.

I'd be lost without her.

It was magical, how she could even manage to completely distract him from his pain. Take it away, even. His arm seemed perfectly fine, as long as she was right there, talking, smiling, laughing, kissing.

Suddenly, Sophie broke their kiss by curving her mouth into a grin. She pulled back, biting her lower lip, looking over him with her sparkling eyes. Finally, she dipped her head and broke into a tiny fit of giggles.

Her eyes were lit up as she shook her head, pushing back from Keefe's embrace gently. "Alright, stop stalling. I need to take you to Elwin."

Tick.

Sophie made good on her promise, taking him to Elwin's immediately. Shyly, he tried to persuade her that she could handle it all on her own, given her many incidents and her chalk-full medicine cabinet nestled inside her bathroom at home. Sophie denied that and he couldn't blame her for it once he took the time to notice the heavy sheets of worry that she was sending at him.

As Keefe had anticipated, Elwin dropped everything he was doing right when he saw the two of them entire. His face was beaming with excitement at the two dropping in for a visit, but it fell the moment he saw Keefe's arm.

A lot of questions followed.

Sophie helped him get through it, though, explaining everything in some sort of detail that made Keefe not want to crawl into a hole and hide for a few millenia. It as still embarrassing, but it would have been way worse if Sophie hadn't been beside him the whole time.

She sat next to him on the cot when Elwin was getting out different balms and vials, holding his good hand and smiling up at him as best she could.

If Elwin hasn't been in the room, Keefe would have tested out a forehead kiss on her.

Once Elwin lathered the balm on his cut and made Keefe down two terrible smelling elixirs, he warned Keefe that he'd have to stay in the Healing Center for a little while.

"The one elixir I had you take is going to make you nauseous for around an hour," he explained, sympathy in his eyes.

Keefe nodded, squeezing Sophie's hand in an indication of goodbye. He grinned at her and nudged her a little, showing he'd be all right.

And yet, Sophie turned to Elwin and announced, "I'm going to stay here with him, if that's fine."

Elwin agreed, shooting the two of them a suspicious look before going into his office. Sophie was blushing madly by the time he finally left the room, and Keefe smiled down at her sweetly, loving the fact that she had volunteered all on her own free will to stay with him. In the Healing Center doing nothing for an hour, nonetheless.

Tick.

When Keefe was officially discharged and clear to go, Sophie invited him over to Havenfield for dinner. He gladly accepted After a little bit of coaxing and prodding from Sophie, to which he returned some teasing.

"You just can't get enough of me today, can you?" He said snarkily, mischief shining in his ice blue eyes.

Sophie turned red, punching him in the arm without a second thought. Keefe sucked in a sharp breath between his clenched teeth and in alarm, Sophie whirled to look at what had happened, only to find she'd hit the wrong arm.

"Keefe! Oh my God. Oh my God. Are you okay?"

Keefe grabbed his arm with his opposite hand, laughing lightly through the pain. "Goddamn, Foster. A little abusive, are we?" he teased.

Tick.

Wh an they arrived at Havenfield, Sophie explained the situation to her parents — leaving out the kissing, thankfully — and about how she hoped they didn't mind having a guest at the table, given the fact that she'd invited him over. Keefe was flustered through it all, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs as he stood and watched Sophie's parents shoot him worried looks.

But, eventually, Edaline said it was completely fine. She pulled Keefe into a hug and d whispered in his ear that they were always there for him if he needed.

And Grady hugged him.

For the remainder of the night, the two were a pair of idiotic dorks. They messed around in her room, tried to dye Iggy on their own (he had to give Dex some props—it was not easy), and Sophie even pulled him on her bed and allowed him to look through her old scrapbook.

And after it all, Keefe started to feel everything again.

Tick.

He felt alive. He felt the need and want to be alive. To live beside this incredible person who actually cared for him.

Tick.

And he felt the tick inside of him again.

Tick.

Only this time, he wasn't afraid of it. He knew better. He'd learned.

Tick.

This tick wasn't a countdown. It wasn't a waiting game to his doom.

It was a new heartbeat. A new reminder to keep going. It was a new beginning.

Tick.

And anytime that Sophie Foster kissed him?

Boom.