How It Should Have Been: Sokeefe AU

Episode 22: (Keefe's POV) (Tw: verbal ab/se, us/lessness, being unloved)

Keefe hated midterms.

It was always a reminder to his father that Keefe wasn't perfect. There was always a fight afterward, with Cassius yelling and Gisela watching and Keefe standing, head down, withstanding the storm until he could get to safety.

They always left early, not wanting to mingle with the other parents and have to keep the fake smiles on their faces, pretending they were a normal, loving family.

Keefe held his leaping crystal up to the light. He wasn't going to be able to get away with going to the meadow. Cassius would find him, somehow, and then he would lose his only refuge.

No, it would be safer to go to Candleshade. Better in the long run.

Keefe stepped into the light. As he began to glitter away, he saw Linh run past him towards where Sophie and her parents were.

He wondered what that was about.

Probably some girl thing.

He reappeared in front of Candleshade. He could hear shouting inside, so Cassius was probably already angry.

This would be fun.

He trudged in the front door, bracing himself for the insults beginning to fly at his face.

Useless.

Failure.

Mistake.

Disappointment.

Keefe almost covered his face, as though that would stop the words that were knives from sinking under his skin, scarring, leaving echoes that would never truly fade.

"Did I raise you to come second best?" Cassius shouted. "Did I bring you up to mess up everything you do?"

Keefe knew from experience that he shouldn't try to answer. The one time he'd tried, Cassius had thrown fizzleberry wine at the expensive carpet. Then Gisela had been mad at him, too.

"Alden Vacker's son manages to get perfect marks, and he doesn't have a photographic memory! He doesn't get detention, or play pranks, or make jokes!"

"Well, Fitz is boring like that," Keefe mumbled under his breath.

Evidently, he wasn't quiet enough because a shadow loomed over him and Keefe looked up to see his father standing over him, his face twisted with anger. "What was that? Do you have a comment?"

"No," Keefe muttered, lowering his head again.

"Good." Cassius continued with his tirade. "Everything I do to get you more like me, nothing works! You always pull some stunt or make some comment, and you destroy everything I've worked for! You will never get far in life because you never take anything seriously!"

Keefe tried to zone him out. But the words, slicing at tender wounds, striking at bruises, prodding deeper and deeper...

It was all Keefe could do to keep the tears in his eyes from leaking out.

He stared at his mother. She was sitting quietly in one of her chairs.

Not moving.

Just watching.

Keefe wished he was a telepath, so he could know what she was thinking.

Did she care?

Did she love him?

Did she know that he loved her, as much as he'd tried to stamp out those feelings?

He tore his wet eyes away from the silent statue and closed them, waiting for the yelling to stop.