KOTLC Oneshots Cause Why Not

Cold, Cruel World

TW; Keefe is ridiculously lonely. Overall angst. Please, do not read if this sounds even remotely triggering, I'm completely unsure on how to trigger warning this.

Keefe was alone. He was alone in his cold room, curled up around Mrs. Stinkbottom like she was the only thing he wouldn't turn to ashes. He was alone in his blanket pile, heavy, but still not enough. He was alone in his house, with the cold hallways and vast rooms that seemed so daunting. He was alone in the whirlwind of thoughts that tore through his brain, making him doubt his worth. Alone in his mind, alone in this house, alone in the world.

His father was there. He lived in the Shores of Solace too. That did nothing to reduce Keefe's loneliness. His room was still cold, the blankets were still too light, Mrs. Stinkbottom still wasn't warm enough. Keefe needed to get out of there. It was simple; The hallways, his room, his father, they would all be farther away, and Keefe could be better.

The real question was where he go? Keefe hated it, but his parents were all he ever knew. It was something he had come to expect. Something he could routinize, something he could schedule. Do this wrong, get yelled at.

Keefe didn't know why he wanted to be told off. He would be perfectly fine not picking fights with his father. Maybe Cassius would leave him alone. Maybe he wouldn't get shoved around nearly as much. Maybe he wouldn't get yelled at. Maybe he wouldn't have to feel his father's disappointment with each shove and pull.

Cassius didn't physically hurt him. At least, nothing permanent. It didn't matter if he shoved Keefe to get him to cooperate. It didn't matter if he grabbed his arm tightly to get him to stop talking. It didn't matter if he put an arm around his son's shoulders to send overwhelming waves of disappointment to him. 

Maybe it was bad Keefe longed for those moments. At least he knew his father was really there, not some imaginative figure his brain made to show him how worthless he knew he was. At least he knew his father wasn't going to leave him, even if it was to keep his reputation from being dragged through the dirt. At least he knew he had a few more moments of his father's presence before he was ultimately forced to move out, forced to pretend it was his decision, forced to be happy about it.

Keefe knew he needed to move out; It was the only way he could stop this ache. His father wouldn't be there to bring it back out. His father wouldn't be there to make it worse. His father wouldn't be there to graze every emotional scar again with his knife. But Keefe couldn't leave. 

He could schedule his cold world. He could set a system. He could control his father's anger, he could screw up and get yelled at, shoved, pulled closer only so he could feel the disappointment. It was something Keefe had been dealing with since his birth. It was something Keefe knew, even if it was hurting him. He knew everything about his father. He knew how to act, how to behave, how to be so he would get the right reaction out of him. All of this he knew and knew how to control.

The world was different. He would have to make decisions in spite of no one. He would have to make decisions to please no one. His rulebook would be rewritten, and thrown out the window to drown, because he'd be in a different, cold world and he'd be forced to deal with it again. Keefe was cold enough here. He didn't want to acclimate somewhere else. It would ruin his system. Be useless, get told he's useless. Despite his father's cold demeanor, he did do one thing; he was truthful. Keefe was useless and worthless and helpless and all the other things.

It didn't take long for Keefe's father to walk into his son's room. Keefe's mental hurricane stilled. The rain against his heart, eroding it, paused. The wind blowing violently against his ribs stopped. Keefe was frozen, because no matter how used to it he was, he still couldn't help the drop his stomach made when his father walked in.

Despite what the ogre princess had told him(You'll be fine without me, Hunkyhair), he really couldn't do it without her. He couldn't stand there, take every stabbing, painful word, defiant and uncrumbling. He couldn't wait until his father left and still be nothing but shaky, face dry, tear tracks non-existent. He couldn't take it all. 

He still goaded his father, pushed all the wrong buttons, still forced him to come and yell and push and be disappointed. Still waited until his father left, still shook after his father's departure from his room, still itched to create something that washed out the pain. Still was grateful for Ro, because she'd strengthened him when she was there, before she'd been taken away as his bodyguard, before she was needed somewhere else, by someone else, who mattered more than Keefe's mentality.

He was fine with that. He wouldn't have let her stay, even if she'd tried to. She'd told him she didn't want to leave. Keefe couldn't fully believe her. She had no reason to stay. Or at least no real reason. Keefe suspected she saw him as a legitimate reason to reject her recall order to Ravagog, but she chose the right path. Leave the worthless, pathetic teenager, and go for something bigger. He didn't see shy she believed he was worth her return to her home, but she didn't act on it, so all was right in the universe. He still wasn't loved, so he felt normal. He wasn't needed, so he knew nothing had changed.

Good. He could control the cold world he lived in. That was something he could deal with.

It hadn't been nearly as bad before. He just... Didn't like hugs. He had reasons. He just didn't know what they were. He wished he knew what he was pointing at, at the time. Maybe it was because no one in his family really hugged him. Maybe it was because his parent's hugs were all for show, all for someone else. Maybe it was because he didn't like people touching him at all, because every time, he could feel his dad's hands clenched around his arm, firm and icy. Every time, he could feel his father's disappointment, no matter what the person who came in contact with his skin actually felt. Every time he could feel the shove, the short burst of fear, the sound of his feet barely catching him.

It only got worse from there

Finally, Cassius spoke.

"Your grades dropped even more"

Keefe remained curled around the green dragon.

"That isn't good."

Keefe's only response was to curl up even more.

"Keefe, you will look at me when I speak"

Nothing

After that, Keefe couldn't really process much. His brain went numb again, and he relished in the detached feeling that ironically enveloped him. Cassius's words still stung. His grip on Keefe's arm was still iron. His anger and disapproval still made its way into Keefe's head, adding to the now raging storm inside his head, but Keefe was numb, and that was all that mattered.

He only registered one thing. Falling over, after a forceful shove toward his desk. He barely caught himself from getting poked in the chest by the corner. His father's clicky footsteps faded. He sat down and his mind clouded over.

At least his father wasn't so disgusted he couldn't touch him. That was reassuring.

Keefe could live in a cold, cruel world. It was all he'd ever known.

Okay, I'm done with this emotionally traumatizing oneshot.

I'm curious, what do you guys think about Keefe's behavior? I tried to convey something, but I want to know how obvious it was. I feel like I kinda failed with that, but oh well.

Ps, I tried something new with the writing style thingie. What do yall think? I feel like i did far too many triplicate adjective things but oh well.

Bye.