golden: sokeefe oneshots

~~i wouldn't mind~~

~~keefe pov~~

human au

warning: light romance, but nothing mature

Keefe's fingers flew across his phone's keyboard, his eyebrows scrunched up in concern. Sophie had just texted him can we talk without any context. what's wrong? he replied.

can i call you?

A fresh wave of worry engulfed Keefe. i'm coming over now. He didn't care that it was eleven thirty at night. If Foster wanted to talk, he would be there no matter what the time.

keefe, its almost midnight.

your point?

grady is my point. Keefe swallowed. Sophie's adoptive dad could be a little... overprotective at times.

i'll go through the window, unlock it for me. Sophie's house was a wide ranch, and her bedroom window was close enough to the ground that he could climb through easily. Not that he had before.

Keefe thought for a minute. If Foster needed comforting, a fuzzy blanket and a pint of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey would probably be best. Luckily, there was a new carton sitting in the oversized freezer.

Keefe rushed out the door, ignoring his father's empty threats, and pulled his hoodie tighter around his body. The cold February air bit into his skin, and he gratefully switched on the heat inside his black sports car.

He raced to Sophie's house in record time, disregarding the speed limit completely. Her house was only two blocks away, but it felt like an eternity. Keefe tapped the steering wheel with his fingers restlessly.

He cursed under his breath when he realized his freaking headlights were still on, and he was only two houses down from Foster's. He clicked it off quickly and crept down the dark street, parking in front of a neighboring house, which he knew was owned by some old guy- Mr. Ford, was it? Mr. Fletcher? No, wait- Mr. Forkle. He was a grumpy, wrinkly man who smelled of feet and was always playing with his garden gnomes. Keefe forced himself to stop thinking of middle-aged bloated men with weird obsessions and yard decor and stepped out of his car quietly.

Foster's house was just about the complete opposite of his own. Hers was painted a light yellow with white shutters, and she had a beautiful garden in the backyard surrounded by a small fence. It looked like it came straight out of a book of fairytales.

On the other hand, Keefe's house looked... well, very intimidating. It had no siding, and was made of black marble. There were almost no windows and it was five stories high. His parents obviously liked to show off the fact that as lawyers, they were incredibly rich.

Keefe had always been a little bit jealous of Sophie's family. Grady and Edaline, her adoptive parents, rehabilitated sick or endangered animals. Keefe had been best friends with Sophie since preschool, watching each other grow up. He escaped to her house as much as he could, avoiding his ignorant mother and verbally abusive father.

Keefe crouched down as he walked, dodging the light streaming from the living room window. Sophie's parents must have still been awake. Crap. That was not going to help him sneak in.

Finally he reached the backyard, carefully stepping over spread-out shrubs to glance through her bedroom window.

He spotted Iggy the chinchilla in his cage on her desk, and her laptop shut beside him. Large posters were hung up on her light blue wall.

It was the room that would always hold his fondest memories.

He couldn't see Sophie from where he was hidden among the bushes, so he quietly tapped his fingers against the window to get her attention. He watched her head peek around the side of her unmade bed. He smirked. She made her way to the window and lifted it so he could climb through.