Sokeefe AU: The Farmer's Daughter

Part Fifteen

You can do this you can do this you can do this you can do this

That's what Keefe was thinking the whole time Sophie led him towards her house.

You can do this

A sharp pain filled his mouth, and he winced, involuntarily.

Okay, so, maybe he couldn't do this.

But he sure as heck had to try.

Because if he couldn't pretend everything was normal, if he couldn't speak without grimacing, if he couldn't even look at Sophie without seeing her mud soaked outfit and regretting his existance, then he was going to break down all over again, and that was the absolute last thing he wanted.

Especially with Sophie right next to him, holding his hand, leading him on.

Her touch was so gentle.

And . . . and he hardly knew this girl, hardly at all. He knew nothing about her except her name and a few random facts, strange things that didn't matter.

They weren't close.

They weren't even really that good of friends.

And yet . . .

Keefe kept looking at the way her fingers were so gently wrapped around his. Not harsh. Not mean, in any way, just soft and light and gentle, despite the way his hands still shook.

He hated that. Hated the way emotions stayed even after you wished they would just stop, already. And, oh, he had tried to get his fingers to stop.

He wasn't dramatic. He wasn't weak.

So why was his hand still shaking?

He wasn't a stranger to breakdowns, wasn't a stranger to the way his whole body trembled during them and his muscles were so tense he felt like he could never relax again.

But Keefe was always, always able to stop the shaking.

So why not now?

He despised it and frowned nervously, glancing at Sophie to see if she minded too much.

She flashed him a smile when she caught his eyes. Her face held sadness, worry, but not so much as to overwhelm him.

He sucked in a breath as they continued forward. They were almost to the house.

Keefe opened his mouth to speak. It throbbed in protest, but he was lucky. The burn wasn't too bad, and it was starting to calm down to a less extreme pain. Plus, the bleeding had stopped.

Manageable. He'd had worse.

Granted, never on his tongue, but he could learn to deal.

"Are," he forced himself to start, then stopped, because oh my stars that hurt why did that hurt so much it was one word wow pain okay wow

Well. He supposed maybe he had misjudged how badly he had been burnt.

Sophie stopped walking to turn and look at him. Sympathy rocked her face, and he wanted to be mad about it, but . . . she looked so gentle. So soft, like she was genuinely concerned for him. Plus, through their tangled hands, he could pick up on the very real concern she was feeling.

Her emotions weren't fake, he could tell. Not like with his own, sometimes, at parties or social outings where he felt like he would rather be anywhere else.

Or his mother's, her fake love and the way it pierced his heart.

No, Sophie's emotions didn't feel like that. They were soft, sweet, not dripping with loudness and chaos.