Chapter 2 - Keefe

Hi so basically if u were wondering the chapters are going to be swapping from Sophie to Keefe's POV. So this is what happened from Keefe's point of view. Hope u enjoy! - Viv

*Keefe's POV*

Keefe Sencen had never been one to sit still, not in his whole life. But there he was, leaning against the doorframe of a classroom at Foxfire, watching Sophie Foster talk to his best friend. He tried to act casual, like the pressure in his chest wasn't slowly suffocating him, but everything about Foster today felt wrong. She wasn't herself. And that, more than anything, sent a wave of anxiety through Keefe's usually carefree demeanor.

Foster's shoulders were stiff, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor ahead of her, and there was a shadow hanging over her that Keefe couldn't quite place. She'd been like this for the past few days — quieter, more distant. He hated the way she pulled away, like there was some invisible wall between them now, and it made Keefe's heart twist in ways he wasn't used to feeling.

He could barely remember when things had started to change. It wasn't as if one moment Foster had been her usual self, and the next she wasn't. But slowly, bit by bit, she'd become someone else. The carefree, confident girl who had always been so open, so fearless, seemed like a distant memory.

And it wasn't just that she was pulling away from him. No, it was more than that. She was pulling away from everyone. Even Fitz. And that, in a weird way, was what concerned Keefe the most. Fitz and Foster had always been inseparable. Sure, they had their issues, but the connection between them was obvious. There was something about the way they could finish each other's sentences, the way Foster would light up when Fitz was around. It used to make Keefe sick to his stomach — seeing them together, always so perfect. But recently, even that bond had started to feel fragile.

And it was that vulnerability, that hesitation in Foster's eyes whenever Fitz would speak to her, that made Keefe question everything. He wasn't blind. He knew Foster and Fitz were drifting apart. But why? What had changed between them? What had Sophie done to herself to feel this way?

Keefe took a deep breath, running a hand through his messy hair. He couldn't stand it anymore. He had to know what was going on. He couldn't just let her suffer in silence. Not when he could help.

"Foster! Wait up!" he called out, trying to keep his voice light, not letting her see how much it bothered him.

Foster stopped and turned around, her beautiful brown eyes locking with his for the briefest moment. For a split second, Keefe thought he saw something there, something that made him forget how to breathe. But it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

"You okay?" he asked, concern present in his tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... dealing with stuff." she said, offering him that same small smile that never quite reached her eyes.

He hated it. Hated that smile, because he knew exactly what it meant. She was fine, she would say. Everything was okay. But Keefe knew better. He always had.

"You've been dealing with a lot lately, haven't you?" Keefe asked, leaning on the doorframe, his hands in his pockets to stop them from trembling. "You don't have to do it alone, you know."

Foster blinked, but she didn't answer right away. Instead, she shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze like she was trying to figure out what to say without lying. It made Keefe's stomach turn. "I don't want to talk about it," Foster muttered, looking away. "Not yet, anyway."

Keefe wanted to grasp her hands and tell her how much he cared for her, how beautiful she was, how kind, how brave. How he liked her, no, loved her, for who she was, not The Moonlark, not the most powerful elf to ever exist, not the elf who has so many abilities that she doesn't know what to do with but instead, Foster. The girl who caught his eye the very first time he saw her. The one who always brought a smile to his face, the one he would do anything for. If only she could see that.

"You don't have to," Keefe said softly, his voice comforting. "But I'm here if you do."

Foster's expression softened, but only for a moment, and then it hardened again, that familiar wall going back up. She was shutting him out. Again. Keefe hated how easily she did it, how naturally it seemed to come for her. He had no idea why it hurt so much, but it did. Every time. She nodded and turned to walk away.

Keefe watched her go, his heart aching. He had never wanted to say the words, never wanted to admit it to himself, but it was the truth.

But that was a secret Keefe would never tell. Not when she was so tangled up in Fitz, not when she was still figuring herself out. He wasn't going to risk it. Not yet. Not when Foster needed space, when she needed time to find herself again.

Keefe could only watch as she disappeared around the corner, her figure swallowed by the crowd of students. And all he could do was hope that, one day, Foster would look back and realize he was the one who had always been there, waiting.

Keefe stood there, a frown on his face. The fact that she was closing him out, that she was letting herself suffer while she was surrounded by people who cared about her, hurt. And it hurt because he cared about her. A lot more than he'd ever let on.

Keefe felt his heart sink, but he didn't let it show. Foster wasn't ready to talk. She never was. And Fitz, the ever-persistent, ever-trying, extremely-annoying Fitz, was probably making things worse, no matter how much he tried to help. Keefe hated the way Fitz looked at Foster like she was something he had to protect, something he had to keep in a little bubble where nothing bad could happen, something that belonged to him and only him. It wasn't right.

But Keefe wasn't like that. As an empath, he could feel her emotions, without having to touch her like he had to do with everyone else. He could feel her pain, her sadness and her confusion. He wasn't going to lock her in some cage of his own making. He wanted Foster to be free. To be herself. Not to be weighed down by anyone — not Fitz and especially not him.