Seventeen | Soulmate AU | ✔

22 | Comfort in Touch

This is the first chapter I think I've really liked in a while. I had to rewrite the beginning twice, and I'm still not feeling it, but once I got more into it I really felt like it came together. It started to reflect my current mood more, which is the type of writing I want to be putting out. I want to be putting out stuff that makes me feel, and that feels me.

This one was intense, and I actually got intense and focused on it while I was writing. It's way heavier than it was originally meant to be in the first place - or maybe heavy isn't the right word, intense suits it better? I don't know at this point - but I feel like it has way more meaning because of it. It's not a happy chapter, but it's not sad either, if that makes sense? I don't know, I guess I should just stop talking before I tell you something spoiler-y about it.

For those of you that don't follow me, I highly recommend doing so simply because the moment I know a chapter is delayed or going up in the near future, or anything is happening as far as my content goes, my followers are alerted. If you aren't aware yet, I got my hand smacked into hard with a field hockey ball on Tuesday and was just unable to write and finish the chapter I'd started, which is why this is a good week or two late. Life sucks, I know. For those of you that aren't my followers (not sure if anyone will vouch for me) but all of my followers know that I do try to not excessively post over things that you probably don't care about. I don't spam about everything that happens to me, and I make sure that when I do have something to post on my feed about, it's normally more than one thing or something of importance. So yeah, it'd probably be best for you guys to follow me if you want to know everything going on content-wise on my account.

Long notes suck. And I've been writing a lot of them recently. I'm sorry. I'll shut up now. Just go read the story. Drop a vote or something.

S o p h i e   F o s t e r

The doorbell rings at around one in the afternoon. I make my way downstairs eagerly, glad that something has finally happened today. I've got no clue who's ringing, but as long as I don't get mugged I'm happy to answer and chat. I'm bored.

When I get downstairs to open the door, the most immediate thing in my sight is pepper spray. I almost groan aloud at the realization, making a mental note to make fun of Grady in the family group chat for the later.

Then again, being home alone...I grab the can in spite of myself.

I grab the doorknob and overenthusiastically throw it open, my arm whipping to the side of me in a ready-to-spray position.

Needless to say, I'm not expecting my blonde hair blue-eyed soulmate to be standing there, looking confused as his eyes go from me to the pepper spray. He looks at me expectantly for an explanation.

My cheeks turn red right away. Oh god. The arm holding pepper spray goes behind my back. "G-Grady gets protective," I defend, flustered.

"Okay," Keefe says. Then, "Great to see that you're alive and well, I guess I'll be going now."

Did I freak him out too much with the pepper spray? Before I can stop myself, I blurt, "Keefe, do you want to come in?"

He pauses, then nods his head. "Yeah, actually."

I step aside, gesturing inside and mentally berating myself for being so awkward.

After I shut the door, I make my way into the kitchen, assuming that he's right behind me, which he is. "Want something to drink?"

His answer is brisk. It catches me off guard. "No, sit." He points to one of the bar stools at our small island.

I'm confused, but I find myself obeying. "Keefe?"

He meets my gaze with one of his cheeky smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "Where are the cups, Foster?"

"But you're the guest!" I protest.

Keefe just shakes his head. "I'm going to learn my way around this house sooner or later. Might as well start now."

That hits my hard in the gut for a moment. Then I'm back to my senses. "But—"

"Foster, you might have cancer, sit down and tell me where the cups are," he snaps at me. The entire atmosphere shifts, and the mood of everything is no longer playful.

It makes me go silent. I avoid his gaze, staring down at the marble counter. "Top corner, left cabinet," I say quietly.

My eyes stay downcast as his feet move to get a cup, which then sets on the counter. "Want anything?" Keefe asks me.

"Water," I reply absentmindedly, and then it's silent again. I think we're both thinking.

I'm still shocked that he snapped at me. It's the first time he's been anything less than sweet to me, and I'm not sure what to make of it.

I'm snapped out of my Keefe-related thoughts when he sets my cup down in front of me.

When I finally look up, I see someone tired. He looks exhausted, which makes me feel bad. Mentioning cancer while he snapped at me might've been a low blow, but maybe it was because he wasn't happy. From the little I know so far, his family life isn't the greatest. Should I ask if he's okay?

Keefe finishes his water, while I don't touch mine. He sets his cup down and makes his way over to me, offering a hand to help me down from the bar stool. "Living room?"

I tentatively take his hand, more for comfort than anything else. And it is comforting. "Yeah," I say, leading the way to the living room.

It's only when we get to the living room that I haven't let go of his hand. I got to do so, but he doesn't let me, instead taking over to the couch and gesturing for me to sit down. I do it when he lets go of my hand, making sure that I don't take up too much space when he does the same.

Once settled, he turns to me, opening his arms in invitation. I don't know why I do everything he wants so willingly today, but I sink into his arms. I'm not sure whether it's because I need this, or whether he does. He's warmth. Am I that same warmth for him?

Keefe's breath grazes my ear when my head slumps against his chest. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, Sophie," he whispers, then buries his head in my hair.

The apology hangs in the air between us for a moment before he continues, resting his chin on the top of my head instead. I can feel his Adam's apple bob against the back of my head as he swallows. "Not seeing you all day at school today and this entire cancer thing is stressing me out. I was worried about you. I wanted to check up on you and I didn't have your number and it was driving me insane. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped, it was just something that happened accidentally in the moment. I shouldn't have brought up cancer, that was stupid. That was completely and totally my bad."

My guilt intensifies when I hear that my cancer is something he might literally be losing sleep over. "I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

"You don't get to control that," he tells me, holding me tight to his chest. "I'll worry regardless."

It goes silent again, but this time there's no tension between us. Instead we just revel in each other, taking comfort in the fact that the other one of us is there and existing in the moment.