𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒓 // sokeefe oneshots

{.𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒻𝒾𝓉𝓏 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝓀𝓈.} 𝓅𝓉. 2

Keefe's POV

After a particularly exhausting and emotional fight with his father, the place to go was usually the love of Keefe's life's house, Havenfield.

His bodyguard, Ro, leaned against his bedroom door with a smirk on her face. "So, Blondie's house?" she guessed.

Keefe glared at her, not in the mood for her teasing. "Yes, I am going to Sophie's house. Not you. Me."

Ro grunted. "Yeah, right. Sorry to break it to ya, but im your bodyguard, Funkyhair. It's kind of my job to follow you wherever you go."

Keefe sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He really didn't have the energy nor mental strength to argue with her. "Look. I'm going to Foster's house and you're staying here. Please?" His voice cracked at the end, revealing how much he was actually in pain.

Ro's eyes and stance softened for a moment. "Alright. Just be back by tomorrow, okay? Be safe, Funkyhair."

Keefe tried for a smile, but his lips wobbled as he did so. "Thank you. See you soon, Ro."

He walked past his bodyguard and to the Leapmaster, where he whispered "Havenfield" and let the light and warmth envelop him.

***

When Keefe finally glittered onto Havenfield's pastures, he immediately felt Foster's emotions. But that wasn't what concerned him. What concerned him was the only f emotions that he felt—grief, sadness, humiliation, anger.

He burst into a run and took off toward Havenfield. He tried to open the front door, but it was locked. Keefe glanced up at Foster's balcony, where the bathroom window was ajar.

"Don't worry, Foster," he whispered. "I'm coming."

He levitated up to the window and hopped inside, controlling his landing so that he didn't make a sound. Keefe could hear Sophie's sobs and suppressed whimpers, so he assumed that she was either under a blanket or her head was stuffed into a pillow.

He entered Sophie's bedroom as quietly as possible and sat down slowly on her bed so that not to disturb or startle or her. "Hey Foster," he whispered, pulling the small petite girl into his arms gently and held her against his chest as she sobbed. "What's wrong?"

Keefe waited patiently, until Sophie's sobs were reduced to choked whimpers and soft sniffles. "L-last night," she began. "It was h-horrible. He—he was drunk a-and he..."

Sophie sobbed and Keefe's heart ached for her. Whoever had did this to her would pay, he vowed as he tightened his arms around her small back.

"What happened?" he whispered, rubbing soft circles into his Foster's back until her cries once again reduced to mild sniffles. "Take your time, Foster. I'm not going anywhere."

Sophie sniffed and tried again. "H-he pulled me into bed with h-him and he...he got o-on top of me a-and I froze. I told h-him no Keefe, I told him no."

She started to sob again, harder this time, and Keefe tightened his grip even more. He wanted to kill whoever this guy was. But first, he needed to know one more thing.

"I understand if you don't want to to tell me," he said, "but I need to know—who was it? Who did this to you?"

Sophie heaved another sob before being able to find her voice. "Fitz."

Keefe gritted his teeth as Foster continued to soak his jerkin in her tears. Forgetting all about the fight with his dad, he felt ice-cold rage coursing through his veins.

But he forced himself to hide it as he asked, "Have you seen anyone? Or...a-are you okay?"

Sophie stopped crying momentarily. "N-no, I haven't gone to see anyone," she whimpered. "What if I'm—"