He Left Me - KotLC fic (after Unlocked)

Chapter 30

"Sophie."

The voice sounded different than normal, and it startled me, and I nearly dropped the book I was pulling out. He did say he was sick with the flu when I talked to him last, though. Elves weren't immune to human disease. "Holy cake, Fitz, don't scare me like that." I slid the book back into its place on the shelf and turned to face my cognate.

Except it wasn't the dark-haired boy I was expecting. Instead, a tall blond with carefully disheveled hair stood staring at me with wide eyes.

It was the boy I had passed in the park, with the drink. The one who tripped as I passed. I hadn't gotten a close look at him before, caught up by the taste of my over-priced ice cream.

He was a ghost of the boy I once knew.

I stumbled backwards, clutching my chest. "No...."

No. Keefe was dead. He had ran away, and his mom killed him for his blood, and I wasn't there when he needed me because I gave up on him.

Keefe has been dead for years, and I planted his tree, and he never came back.

I had changed my plans and become a Councilor because he was dead.

Keefe was gone.

Keefe couldn't be standing in front of me, bundled up form the cold, his hair different from before but just as messy, as handsome as he used to be.

Keefe couldn't be staring at me like his whole world just got turned upside down, because Keefe was dead.

I turned around, racing out of the stifling little building. I shoved my beanie back on without wrapping up my hair, feeling the stung of tears welling as a few snowflakes settled on my cheeks. I heard him follow me, call my name, but I ignored it. It had to be a trick of some kind, a Neverseen member who got away.

I scrubbed at my eyes with the heel of my palm as I crushed the hope in my heart, hurrying down the sidewalk.

"Sophie, please. Please talk to me."

"He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't leave and never come back. He wouldn't let me think he was dead for three hundred and fifty three years."

"You died."

I stopped short on the sidewalk, turning to face him. "What?"

"You died. I couldn't go back." His ice-blue eyes were clouded by the toxins of the human world but just as beautiful as always, even with the heartbreak they held now. "Please come with me, to my apartment."

People bumped into my shoulders, commuting through the busy sidewalk while we were both frozen.

"I can't lose you again," he added desperately when I hesitated.

Slowly I nodded, and we walked in silence for a handful of blocks before coming to a tall glass building.

We rode the elevator up to the seventh floor, and Keefe let me into his apartment.
It was simple, like mine. There was almost no color, except for the notebooks and the paintings. He had hundreds of books with colorful spines lining a set of bookshelves. The walls were decorated with art that was obviously his. Paintings of cities around the world, landscapes, portraits. Memories of the Lost Cities.

I walked over and pulled out a gold one, flipping it open. There was a sketch of me, almost smiling. I turned the page again and again, finding a whole book of myself.

"The gold ones were always my best memories." Keefe explained quietly.

I thought of the thousands of memory logs in my room, the shelf reserved for images of him.

I turned to look at him. "You died. You died three hundred fifty three years ago."

"I had to leave, Foster. I had to try to keep you safe." His eyes were full of guilt and a deep sadness. "I held your dead body. I cradled you even though were nothing more than a corpse gone cold. I carried you back to Havenfield, and then I left."

He turned away, looking out the window. "I couldn't stay in the Lost Cities. I didn't want to live in a world that would force me to move on from you."

"You carried me back?" I forced out, shocked nearly speechless. 

He nodded, still not looking at me.

"You... you told Ro about the tracker." I turned over this piece of information in my mind. "That's how they found them."

Keefe looked at me questioningly.

"The war ended a few months later. They caught the Neverseen."

"Were you there?"

Keefe's question caught me off-guard, and I wrapped my arms around my stomach, recalling the awful way I lost so much time. I shook my head. "I slept for nearly a year," I whispered.

His beautiful eyes widened. "Soporodine. That's why I couldn't feel your heart."

I nodded. "Gisela told me she killed you. That she needed your blood more than your cooperation."

I turned away to hide my tears. The loss I suffered was as fresh as it was then, even with the ghost standing in front of me.

His arms wrapped around me, and I leaned into them as I asked, "Why did you leave me?"

"Because I was in love with you." I stilled, choking on my sobs at his words. "I was so in love with you, Sophie, that I had to try to keep you safe from me."

"I loved you too. And I never got to chance to tell you." I bit my lip as the tears dripped down my cheeks.

"Neither did I. And I've spent the last three hundred fifty three years trying to get over you."

"I never loved anyone else." I turned around to press my face against him, wrapping my arms around the boy I always loved but never got to tell. 

"Neither did I." There was a faint pressure on the top of my head, like he had kissed me. I held him as tight as I could. He smelled just like he used to, the way his capes smelled when I slept in them years ago, the scent I had spent so long trying to memorize.

I pulled away to look at him. "Please come back with me."

His eyes became guarded, avoiding my gaze. He stepped backward. "Sophie—"

"I can't let you go again, Keefe. It nearly killed me the first time."

"Sophie, where am I supposed to go? What do I do?"

"Stay with me. Be an artist. Just don't leave me again."

I saw the pain in his eyes at the thought. I pulled away, turning to face the window. Scrubbing at my eyes, I prepared myself for heartbreak.

"Sophie..."

I turned around to look at him with a small smile. "It's okay. I know you have a good life here." I waved my hand to the apartment. "I'm going to go," I mumbled, heading for the door.

I hoped, fiercely, that he would say something, that he would call out and stop me, but he didn't. I fought back more tears, and dropped a home crystal leading to my house on the table, walking out.

I leaped home and burst into tears. I kicked off my shoes, pulling off his sweater and tossing it to an armchair. I curled up on the sofa, sobbing into my arm.

It hurt so much more knowing that he was alive and he was happier without me than it did thinking he died loving me.