Keefe's hair 101

25th

Keefe woke up screaming.
What he had just dreamt seemed so... real. And... familiar.
He sat in his bed catching his breath. He felt sick.
Water... he needed water.

Keefe made his way to the kitchen in the dark. He didn't care how much noise he made; his parents were never home.

"What are you doing?"

Keefe froze.
"Ah. Father." He turned towards the front door. There he was- Keefe's father, Cassius.

Keefe felt more sick.

"Hi," Keefe murmured stupidly, going back to getting a drink.
"This place is a mess," Cassius announced, looking around. Of course that was the first thing he said.

Keefe looked around and it was actually really clean.
He didn't remember cleaning.

"So."
"So."
They said in unison. "You first," Keefe insisted because he knew his father wouldn't let him go first.
"How are the trips to the hospital? You seem to be there a lot."

And you seem to be here a lot, too.

"Um. It's nothing."
"It's not nothing; it's expensive."
Expensive. Wow.
"What if I was dying??" Keefe blurted out. Because... well, because he was.

"Anything to do with that Sophie?"
Keefe stayed silent. Cassius was purposefully poking around his weak spot.
"Well?"
"No."

"What's wrong? Your-"
"Don't say it." Keefe placed his cup loudly on the bench.
"Say what?"

"I'm going to bed. Okay? Leave me alone..."
Suddenly Keefe ran into the bathroom and vomited into the toilet.
"Ugh..." Keefe slumped onto the floor. He was so so sick.

"Ugh," His father sniffed with distaste with his head peeking into the bathroom.
"Thanks," Keefe grumbled.

His dad left him and went into his unused bedroom.

Keefe was too shaky and dizzy to stand up so he fell asleep in the bathroom. Which was actually lucky because it meant he was close to the toilet.

In the morning, Keefe still felt sick, but a little more better. He lounged on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him. He was so hot, but his skin insisted he was cold.
Keefe fell asleep again.

He woke up around noon when someone knocked on the door. Keefe stumbled to the door.
"Hi Keefe." Keefe stared at Sophie. "You don't look so good," Sophie noticed, sounding concerned.
"I'm not," he agreed. "In fact, you might want to go away..."
"Why?"
"I'm really, really sick. I just wanna lay down..." Keefe shivered.
"Do you have a temperature?"
"Doesn't everyone?" Keefe replied miserably.

"Here, let me." Sophie put her hand on his head. The way her face fell confirmed it: he was sick. Well, Sophie knew he wasn't lying, I mean.

"My father's here," Keefe mumbled nervously.
"He- he is?" Sophie looked downright scared. But then she fixed her expression to sad. "And he didn't care you were sick?"
"Oh, he cares alright," Keefe leaned against the door frame. "Shouldn't you be at school?"
Sophie smiled. "Probably... but I've decided to look after you, now."

"Don't. I don't want you getting sick..."
"Have you eaten?" Sophie asked, ignoring him and wandering inside.
"No. I'm not hungry," Keefe felt like he would cry if he ate. "That's okay. Here," Sophie led him back to the couch. "Sit down."
Keefe sat and immediately stood back up, pale. He then ran into the bathroom and vomited. He groaned loudly. "Hey, that's good." Sophie helped him back to the couch. "Now you'll feel better."
"It didn't feel so good when I was vomiting..." Keefe mumbled.

Sophie went down to the shops to buy some Coke. And, if Keefe thought about it, he was really craving some. Sophie told him to have a shower and he felt really good after.
Finally Sophie came back and she poured a glass for Keefe. "Tiny mouthfuls," she advised.

About half into the glass, Keefe vomited again. "It's okay," Sophie cuddled Keefe on the couch. "You can watch some TV."
They watched TV until Keefe fell asleep on Sophie's shoulder. Sophie turned the TV off and adjusted Keefe so he was more comfortable. He looked really cute when he was sleeping. So at peace. It almost made Sophie forget about the fact he was scarred. Scarred mentally.

Sophie stroked Keefe's hair. His forehead wasn't as hot as it was before. Keefe mumbled and snuggled closer to Sophie.
"What. Are. You. Doing."
Sophie froze. It was Keefe's father. "Uh. Sir, I was just looking after y-your son."
"He doesn't need 'looking after', he's old enough to do it himself," Cassius growled, obviously disproving of the snuggling.
"All he does is by himself," Sophie angrily replied. "You were never there to help him."
"He needs to learn."
"He has! He's learnt that he isn't going to be like you-"
"Don't be disrespectful, young lady," Cassius interrupted. Keefe muttered uneasily.
"Just go away. He's sleeping." Sophie looked away, blinking tears of anger out her eyes.
Cassius huffed and went out the door.

"Sophie?" Keefe shot straight up. "Was my father talking to you?"
"Uh yeah."
"I'm so sorry!" Keefe dragged his hand through his hair.
"It's okay."
"I should've been awake to help..."
"No it's fine," Sophie pulled Keefe closer. "I dealt with it."

That made Keefe feel more queasy. He groaned. "What's wrong?"
"I feel so sick." Keefe noticed she changed the topic.
"Go back to sleep."

And he did.

Sophie sighed.
Keefe really needed someone to care for him. Like, he needed to know someone cared for him. And it would be great if it was his dad, but, his dad really didn't.

Maybe Keefe wouldn't be in this situation. And Sophie didn't mean being sick.