Book Two: KOTLC One-shots and More

I Always Have (Keefe POV)

When Keefe woke the next morning—after sleeping in rather later than he normally did—he sat up slowly, feeling the ache in his feet from hours of dancing the previous night.

Thankfully, he had an elixir for that.

And thanks to that gnome—whose name he'd unfortunately forgotten to get—he had cake for breakfast.

His mind was full of the events from last night. The things Sophie had told him. The way she'd looked in that dress. The way she'd left him breathless when she'd first walked in.

All of those were things he did not feel he could share with Fitz, though. So as he got ready, he worked through an edited version he could tell his best friend.

He could talk about all the girls in ice blue. About Anabel scaring at least one of them away. About Marella making it clear she was only there to get lots of juicy gossip, and then grossing him out with talks of Tam.

But what if Fitz wanted to see how his girlfriend had looked? What if he asked to see part of Keefe's memory, so he could see Foster in her dress? Keefe couldn't show him that without him experiencing the emotions Keefe had experienced, and that was a super bad idea.

But mostly, he figured Fitz would be a bit subdued after what had happened yesterday afternoon, so he wasn't sure how talkative Fitz would be.

But he hadn't expected the red faced, puffy-eyed mess that opened the door a few minutes later. It was obvious that Fitz had been crying. He took one look at Keefe, and a flash of anger or bitterness crossed Fitz's already anguished features. But the anger passed as quickly as it came, and Fitz deflated, turning to move back into his room and sank down onto his bed, leaving Keefe to enter and shut the door behind him.

Keefe had a sneaking suspicion what had happened, but he asked anyway. "Whoa, Fitz, what's wrong?"

It looked like it took Fitz a minute to find his voice. When he spoke, his voice sounded thick, like he had a bad head cold. "Sophie and I broke up. She left maybe an hour ago, if that."

Keefe's eyes widened as a whole host of emotions coursed through him. He felt awful for his friend, who was clearly heartbroken. And yet...he still couldn't be sad that Fitzphie was no longer a 'thing'.

"I...don't know what to say. I'm really sorry." He sank down on the bed next to Fitz, still holding the promised slice of cake in his hands.

"Me too."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Fitz shook his head. "No. Especially not with--" he shook his head, not finishing the thought. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet. And I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I'm up to hearing about your Winnowing Gala yet either. I just..." his voice trailed off helplessly.

Keefe understood.

It was hard to be interested in other peoples' stories when you felt so overwhelmed by your own.

"That's okay," Keefe assured him. "It'll keep. But...do you need anything? Seriously, whatever you want. I can leave you alone, or I can stay and just sit here with you, or we can go eat something, or go outside and play some bramble just for a distraction or a way to get out some pent-up energy."

Fitz took a deep, shaky breath and turned his face away, looking out his window. "I don't know." He was quiet so long that Keefe thought he might've forgotten Keefe was there. Then he whispered, "I thought I was going to marry her."

"We all did," Keefe told him just as quietly. He left out the fact that he'd always hated that, and that he'd always secretly hoped they'd decide against it.