His Teal Eyes

Chapter 8 : Fitz

A/N: Hey everyone! So Sorry we haven't updated in so long! We had to study for finals and our school just ended for us but here is Chapter 8, enjoy!! btw we reached 1k on @hppanda 's copy!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

"Fitz, wake up." Fitz blinked blearily, rubbing his eyes when a beam of sunlight shone directly into them. Turning onto his back, he sighed, summoning enough energy to sit up, grinning at the sight of Keefe, whose blonde hair framed his face in matted tangles, an extremely rare occurrence. "Everyone is waiting for you downstairs."

Fitz ran a hand through his hair, wincing when it hit a tangle. "They are?" he said, frowning- it didn't feel any later than five thirty in the morning. "Why are they up so early?"

Smirking, Keefe shoved Fitz's head gently. "It's twelve, Fitzter."

"Don't call me that."

Keefe seemed to ignore him, grin widening as he nudged Fitz teasingly. "How late were you up with Foster, anyway?"

Eyes widening, Fitz failed to suppress a large grin from spreading across his face as the memory of the previous night resurfaced. The apology under the moon . . . the way all his anger had vanished when he had gazed into Sophie's warm brown eyes . . . their whispered confessions and the way he had felt like he could tell her anything, trust her with anything . . . and the kiss. Fitz sighed dreamily, wiping the smile quickly off his face when he spotted Keefe's amused expression.

"I take it your . . . outing went well then," he said, raising his eyebrows. Fitz only nodded in response, fighting to keep his expression straight. "Well, I'm happy for you," Keefe said, shooting Fitz a wide smile.

"Than-" Fitz grin faltered when he saw a shadow flicker over Keefe's face, full of an emotion he couldn't quite place: sadness, anger, apprehension, guilt, and . . . was it jealousy? And then his bright grin was back, gone as quickly as it had come; Fitz almost managed to convince himself he had imagined the whole thing. Running his hand over his face wearily, Fitz shook his head, hoping he had been hallucinating. Still, he couldn't quite erase a similar image from his mind: Seven year old Keefe, staring down at his toes as Lord Cassius conversed with Fitz, showering him with compliments as usual, and, in the process, somehow managing to insult his son in every sentence . . . Fitz had shot a glance at Keefe and saw his fists clench loosely around a crumpled piece of paper -a drawing, no doubt- and his eyes flash with jealousy. He remembered wanting to give his friend a hug when Keefe's eyes sparkled with tears, hand hastily wiping them away, muttering under his breath angrily, as if berating himself for letting his emotions show for once.

Now, as he looked at his friend, Fitz furrowed his brow worriedly, hoping he was just being paranoid. He turned to Keefe, shooting him a somewhat apologetic smile and nodding gratefully. "Thanks," he finished.

Keefe raised his eyebrows, clearly having noticed Fitz's pause, but didn't comment. "So . . . you guys are a thing now? Sophitz, but for real this time."

Fitz felt his cheeks burn, automatically pushing Keefe roughly by the shoulder. "No," he said, glaring. "She just apologized and . . . well, that's it. It was nothing- really."

"Yeah right, Fitzroy," Keefe said dubiously. "You think I was asleep while you guys were making a racket? Sophie's emotions were way too out of control for it to have been 'nothing'."

Fitz opened his mouth to comment, deciding to steer the subject in a different direction as he said, "Sophie?"

"Aww, Fitz, that's sweet. You're hallucinating now-"

"Why did you call her 'Sophie'? What happened to 'Foster'?" Fitz asked, ignoring Keefe.

Keefe sighed, rolling his eyes. "What is with everyone's obsessions with names? You get to be her Cognate -soon you guys are going to be on top of each other's Matchmaker's lists; it's only fair I call her whatever I want."