I might just come to this account once in a while to write requested one shots. If you want to request something, please put it in my message board, and not in the comments for this book. I can't go through so many comments.
Anyway, this one is Keefe x Fitz, which I didn't expect but I'm open to it? Kinda? I can see it happening sorta.
- This is set during the time that Alden's mind was broken.
"Rain rain go away," Fitz mutters under his breath; he barely remembers the original song Sophie had been singing long ago, and the foreign tune falling from his lips strangely.
He thinks of her, wonders how she must feel, thinking about his own words and actions. He feels guilt, then, guilt that he pushes down with the twisted justification that he deserves to break down, a little. Guilt that bubbles up in his chest and tears at his heart every time Keefe comes to visit.
He sits with him and it helps, surprisingly, being quiet together, just the two of them. It keeps him from forcing his anger out on something else, on someone else, and for a moment, whenever he visits, he thinks it might be okay.
It's a lie though.
Every time he opens his eyes, something's happening.
He can't keep up sometimes, and the frustration, along with the vulnerability, leaves him agitated and more liable to snap for no reason.
He's tired now, of everything, tired of running, tired of chasing, and by now he just wants this to end.
Sometimes, through no conscious will of his own, he blames her for being the cause of all this, then blames himself, for being the one to bring her here, then his father for telling him to, but at the end he hits his head on a wall and smashes a vase and realizes that blaming does nothing for him, it doesn't fix his mind, doesn't make her normal, doesn't get him uninvolved.
What did she say?
Oh yes, she told him once, that after a hurricane comes a rainbow.
He wants to scream, go back, say that this is no hurricane, and there will be no rainbow, because she's here, and even a small break from the storm will result in a greater catastrophe. No time to enjoy the rainbow even if it comes to grace them.
So he breaks, thinking that maybe the sounds of breaking glass and shredding paper will drown out the noise of the storm in his head, the silence of the house, overpower their sobs and hiccups and create his own reality, a fantasy where nothing is wrong.
But in the end there's only a mess, only more proof that he's slowly losing his mind, and his mother's smallest sounds can be louder than the entire hurricane raging within him.
He resorts to Keefe.
Asking him, head ducked in shame, after one of his tantrums, to come over. When he does, he can't bear to meet his eyes, knows that there will be pity there, kindness too, but most of all disappointment - that he's like this, that he's blaming someone innocent for being the cause of this, that he's resorted to childish fits of anger and cut himself off from the world instead of trying to look for a solution.
That he's given up.
He knows it too, knows that he shouldn't be like this, that at the very least he should apologize, but his pride, as well as his terrible personality - and the fear of being rejected by her, that maybe Sophie has waken up from being too nice and so, so, so innocent and kind and humane that she's finally begun to understand how terrible he was to her, how terrible he still is.
That he wants forgiveness, but knows he doesn't deserve it. Especially from her.
Looking up, Fitz lets the rain drip into his eyes, having gotten used to the sting a long time ago. Human, polluted rain had been much worse.
He wonders, idly, if this terrible reality will ever come to an end, wonders too if he'd be able to fall into a wonderful dream if he took enough medicine.
"But you wouldn't let me, would you?"
No rain falls on him now. A shadow rests in front of his feet, the shadow of a person. Fitz doesn't need to look up to know who, knows his presence and aura better than he knows this horrible side of him that had taken over.
"You'd pull me back, right?"
He can't tell if the water in his eyes come from the rain or his tears, thinks that it doesn't matter, as he looks up into icy blue eyes for the first time in months. They're beautiful, they're the same. A little darker than before - whether it's from the shade of the umbrella they hold or because of Fitz, he doesn't know, but he almost sobs, looking up into them. They aren't disgusted. It gives him hope that maybe someday, he'll be able to ask her for forgiveness.
"Do you mind this side of me?" Fitz smiles, softly, thinks maybe Keefe will know that he's sorry, that one day, Fitz will properly apologize. He's not ready right now. "You must, right? I've become a monster."
Fitz laughs.
It sounds maniacal, a boy laughing in the rain, soaked to the bones of his body, head thrown back and eyes wet from tears and rain. When he stops, he looks up again, at him, his beautiful blue eyes.
He really is crying, now, but a smile spreads across his face anyway. Keefe holds the umbrella over his head but they're still getting wet, having only half the umbrella on either side of them. Still, Fitz can see his eyes. Eyes that are still clear, despite everything.
"But you're the only one who's been with me through all this."
