fifty sokeefe kisses

(17) hair

Sophie startled awake in a pitch black room.

She blinked drowsily a few times before realizing that she was indeed surrounded by darkness and not the leftover haze of a dream. Stay calm, Sophie told herself, but as if on cue her heart began to pound. Anxiety clawed its way up her throat. Stay calm stay calm—

"Shhhh." An arm settled over her waist. "It's okay, Soph."

The familiar smell of his mint shampoo washed over her. "Keefe," she whispered, and slowly she registered his presence against her back, radiating warmth into her cold, sweat-soaked skin.

"Yeah, I'm here." He tucked her head under his chin and let out a sigh, his breath tickling the ends of her hair. "You're okay. You just had a bad dream." He found her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. 

Sophie relaxed under his touch, softened with relief as blue waves of tranquility rippled through her. "Thank you," she croaked, and winced at the dryness in her mouth. 

"Water?" Keefe suggested, and she nodded enthusiastically. 

He sat up and reached for her cup on the nightstand. She took it from him with a small smile, grimacing when it nearly slipped through her trembling fingers. "Ugh. Sorry."

"No, don't be," Keefe reassured her. "Here." He held the cup to her lips while she drank.

"Did I wake you up?" Sophie asked when she finished.

"Nah," Keefe told her. "I was half-awake from my own bad dreams before your stress jolted me awake. Then you started writhing in your sleep."

Sophie tilted her head in concern and pushed herself up on her elbows. It was hard to see anything in the dark, but with her eyes more adjusted she could just make out Keefe's mussed hair and the weariness in his eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked. 

The question was an understatement, considering the events of the past few months. She avoided the question's vulnerability by finding ways to ask her friends in more subtle ways; with a hug in greeting, a questioning smile, a shoulder to lean on. However, her relationship with Keefe had always shared a layer of understanding that no one else seemed able to touch, and in this moment, vulnerability felt appropriate.

"Now that you're fully conscious and not kicking me anymore, I'm loads better," Keefe joked. 

Sophie nudged him playfully. "Seriously." She reached up to brush his hair back from his forehead. Without copious amounts of product, Keefe's hair was soft and long enough to rival Tam's bangs, although it curled at the ends like soft wisps of sunlight instead.

Keefe closed his eyes, relishing in the tenderness of her touch. "I'm okay, Foster. For real." He drew her hand down to press a kiss, light as breath, against her palm.

His sleep-addled eyes were crescents of blue ice in the dark as he gazed back at her with a rawness that made Sophie's heart flip. "Okay," she conceded.

"Okay." He repeated, then raised his eyebrows. "Back to sleep, then?"

She considered sleep for a moment, of falling back into untamed dreams and the nightmarish land of her memories, of laying herself out for the monster within. The very thought made Sophie want to never sleep again.

Then she looked at Keefe and thought of the warmth of his arms and the feeling of his steady pulse under her fingertips, chasing away the darkness. She felt his soft hands cupped around her face, his thumbs brushing away her dried tears, the flash of his grin in the dark. She felt comfort, contentment, home. Love. 

Sophie pushed herself up and pulled him against her. Her fingers threaded through his hair. It was starting to get long, she thought. Not that she minded. Traces of minty shampoo lingered at the roots of his hair, where she pressed a small kiss. 

"Soon," she answered him. "I just... want to stay like this a little longer."

She felt Keefe's mouth curve into a grin where he was pressed against her neck. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he murmured, and Sophie felt the vibrations of his words more than she heard them.

It was the most restful sleep either of them had had in a long while.