omg guys i know its been so long im so so sorry. online school sucks. a lot. anyways, i couldn't sleep one night and decided to read this, and honestly my writing is better than i though it was.
6K READS ILY GUYS <3
also I made keefe bi bc why not.
Keefe stared back at his ice blue eyes in the glinting mirror, scrutinizing each and every detail and imperfection.
Today everything changes.
The lump in his throat grew bigger and bigger, like the entire universe was crammed into him, growing and growing and growing until it would swallow him whole. His stomach churned. It was an extremely unpleasant feeling and Keefe never ever wanted to feel it again.
Eyes never leaving the mirror, he stared and stared, having difficulty recognizing the blond-headed boy staring back at him.
It was so unlike him. It wasn't him. The slicked back, impossibly neat hair. The shirt tucked in tightly and every button done. He pulled at the constricting collar, wanting to rip it off.
He looked like his father.
Just the thought of it made Keefe want to leap out of a window. Hatred and rage coursed through him. His fist curled into a ball and he had the strong urge to punch a wall, or a window, or anything for that matter. Keefe swore to himself that he never wanted to look like this again.
...
Fitz cleared his throat., signaling the gala had begun. Keefe tore his eyes away from the mirror, loathing everything about this moment. The feeling of his gelled hair, the pin of his cape stabbing at his skin, the heat on his back. His feet felt glued to the carpet. His entire body was numb. Without a single emotion displayed on his face, he forced himself to walk closer and closer to the door. One foot after another. It was taking all his willpower not to turn around and run and never come back, to run away with only one person by his side, and-
The muffled chatter of the crowd echoed through the silent hall, and Fitz motioned him forward. Keefe stood in front of the tall oak doors, unable to move a muscle.
He was frozen. Frozen because he knew this night would uproot his entire happiness, tear it apart. Only one face kept popping into his mind, her smile replaying over and over again, as if it were taunting him with the life he knew he would never have.
Rage and sadness and pity for himself settled in is stomach as his hand hovered over the detailed gold door handle, being careful not to touch it as if it would burn him if he did. He took a deep breath and reached for it, hand gripping the handle but not wanting turn it an inch. Keefe looked at Fitz and made eye contact. His teal eyes seemed to radiate reassurance, and he could tell Fitz knew that if he spoke a word Keefe would come crashing down. He was thankful for his silence.
Refocusing his attention to the door handle, he took another deep breath and turned it ever so slowly, glancing back at Fitz again, waiting for his input.
Fitz nodded and Keefe closed his eyes and twisted the door handle with a jerk.
Waves and waves of emotion overcame him from the large crowd of people; excitement, nervousness, boredom; and it hit him in the face like a brick. It was extremely difficult to not make a face displaying all the pain that he was currently feeling, but he balled his fists and closed his eyes for a brief second, putting one foot after the other. It felt like he was dragging chains behind him.
Looking up from the marble floor, he scanned the elegant room.
Girls in beautiful elegant dresses that sparkled in the light with gems adorning their necks and the clicking of their heels echoing through the glittering room. Guys in fancy tuxedos gathering in groups to check each others hair and fix each others capes. He could smell the faint smell of perfume intermingling with cologne. The entire room was radiantly decorated with gold. If Keefe didn't hate this moment with every fiber of his being, he might have even found it beautiful.
