His Teal Eyes

Chapter 4: Fitz

(A/N: Hey everyone! Here is the next chapter. We know it is sort of short but we will hopefully put up Chapter 5 soon! Also, we didn't know what to title this chapter so if you have any ideas please let us know!!!<3)

Sophie looked up from the note, gaping. Fitz shrugged nervously, feeling his cheeks burn. "Surprise?" he said, grimacing, bracing himself for anger. He breathed a sigh of relief when the corners of her mouth twitched and she let a begrudging smile show.

"Is this true?" she squeaked, pointing to his hastily scribbled note.

"Um . . ." Fitz said, shuffling his feet. "Yes?"

"Fitz," Sophie groaned. "I mean it; is it true?"

"Yes," Fitz said with conviction, looking her directly into her eyes.

"You sure?" Sophie teased, nudging him gently.

Fitz took her hand gently. "Of course, Sophie."

"Really?!" Sophie squealed, suddenly uncharacteristically chipper. "I mean," she said, coughing to recover from her excited slip, "that's great." Laughing, Fitz drew her closer, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. "But . . ." Sophie started, turning to glance at him, "are you sure this is about you and not me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Please don't tell me you're only saying this to spare my feelings. I've defeated a band of a psychotic murderers with the help of my friends; I'm pretty sure they'll help me get through this one too. Sure, they might need to buy me a couple hundred tissue boxes," she joked, letting her face split into a light hearted grin.

Fitz flinched automatically. Did Sophie like him that much? Did she really think he would fake liking her? "No," he said softly. "As much as I care about you, I could never lie to you Sophie," he promised, tilting her chin upward and forcing her to look into his eyes; hopefully she could tell he was being sincere.

"Then why do you like me?"

Fitz paused, glancing down at his left arm to look at the hastily scribbled notes covering his forearm. "Um," he stumbled, looking anywhere but Sophie. Clearing his throat, Fitz dared to look into her shining amber eyes for a fleeting moment. He paused, staring in awe at her gleaming, chocolatey brown eyes and warm, gentle smile. For a moment, Fitz forgot about any notes Keefe had insisted he take . . . he forgot about how nervous he was and that he had high chances of embarrassing himself. Maybe improvising would do him better . . . no matter how many times he stumbled, at least it would be from the heart.

Nervous butterflies erupted in his stomach and he swallowed nervously. Before he could say anything, however, Sophie grabbed his right arm, frowning slightly. "What's this?" she asked, glancing at Fitz strangely.

Flinching, Fitz wriggled his hand away, blushing. "Nothing," he mumbled, looking away.

"Is it a shopping list or something?"

Fitz hesitated, biting his lip. Perhaps in this case, honesty would only lead to more embarrassment . . . but he didn't want to lie. He would be safe as long as she didn't press like she usually did. "No," he said, hoping she would get the message. Instead of answering, Sophie grabbed his arm once again, peering curiously at the words Fitz had scribbled across it in blue ink. (A/N: Apparently you remember things better if you write in blue ink : D) "Generosity, kindness, bravery," she read, her eyes widening with each word. "Fitz, what's this?"

"Umm . . ." Fitz looked down at his shoes, fidgeting nervously with the folds of his cloak. "Well," he began, looking down at his shoes. "You've probably noticed, but I'm not the best at expressing my feelings . . . to anyone- even to my cognate. I -well mostly Keefe- thought it was a good idea for me to write what I was planning on to tell you on my arm . . . just in case you asked me why I, you know . . . I mean I would tell you anyway, but I was really nervous that I would sound like an idiot. Well, I already do sound like an idiot . . . ugh you probably hate me," he groaned, facepalming. Fitz sighed, looking away for fear of rejection, but instead of laughing hysterically like he suspected she would, Sophie placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Fitz, I could never think you're an idiot," she said, a smile tugging at the base of her lips. "It's sweet. You know, that you would go through all this," -she gestured at the museum exhibit around her- "just to tell me how you feel."

Fitz couldn't suppress a grin at her response. Suddenly remembering what it implied, he swallowed nervously. "I practiced this a little over a million times in front of a mirror, and yet I'm still nervous." Sophie laughed- Fitz took this as a good sign, and, taking a deep breath, continued. Sophie," he started, taking her hands in his, "I've known you for six years now. And I don't want to sound sappy and stereotypical, but . . . knowing you honestly has brightened my life so much. Before I met you, I was a huge, superficial, popular jerk. Probably not as much as Keefe, but still. The person I was then is so . . . foreign to who I am now . . . who I want to be. Maybe I didn't really open my eyes as much as I should've until now, but I wanted to tell you. Face to face. I really really like you, Sophie. Not just because of your eyes or your hair, as much as I like both. It's mostly because . . ."

Fitz glanced down at his hand and the tiny blue script written on it. I like you because of your generosity. I've always admired you for everything you- Fitz tore his gaze away from his hand. Each time he had practiced in the mirror, there was always something missing- the je ne sais quoi. Except now he could pin it in words. Everytime he had practiced in front of the mirror, he hadn't stumbled over a word, and, or at least tried to, say each word with as much feeling and genuinity as he could muster. He had thought saying it in front of Sophie would make all that he wanted to tell her disappear as soon as he looked into her brown eyes. But, really, it was the opposite. Looking into her large, warm brown eyes, Fitz felt every single reason he had ever liked Sophie come rushing back. It seemed so simple to put it into words. "Now is not the time for scripts," he said aloud. "I want you to know that I mean everything- that I really mean everything. I like you because . . . well, everything you've done for me, our friends, your family- the whole elven world- pretty much says it all. For as long as I've known you, you've never really thought of yourself. You've always been so selfless, so brave, that I can't help but admire you . . . I don't think anyone can. You would gladly risk your life to save someone you love or even someone you don't know; I would know, I've seen you do it countless times myself. I know I've never really told you this, Sophie, but you're the kindest, smartest, sweetest, most compassionate person I've ever met. You always make sure you're friends are happy, and are so positive, upbeat, and optimistic even when everything seems awful that you can't help but smile. You always put your friends first that you usually forget to think about yourself. I like you because you're Sophie."

Fitz turned to Sophie, gulping nervously. He had more so gotten carried away with his explanation, than actually made sure it was well said or anything even remotely close to what he had originally planned on saying. His tense shoulders relaxed slightly when Sophie grinned broadly, turning away to hastily wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. Sophie stared at Fitz with tears in her eyes, for a minute Fitz thought he had said something wrong and offended her but before he could finish that thought, he was tackled by a hug from Sophie. He wrapped his arms around her embracing the hug.

"I like you too," Sophie whispered.