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The whole bedroom was bathed in shadows.
And Sophie hated every single one.
The dark hues mirrored the shapes of the shimmering curtains, of the bookshelf, desk and chair, of each petal woven in her carpet, and their dance at the rhythm of the wind coming in through the open window seemed to mock her for not having seen through Vespera’s Elysian illusions.
As if she weren’t already blaming herself.
Going down that road was dangerous... but wasn’t all they were facing even more so?
So she took a deep breath as her mind took a tentative first step, her sanity wrapped in warmth as tightly as she was wrapped in blankets, and in one hand blame carried guilt, but in the other it carried responsibility. What it took to be a leader.
Out of the corner of her vision, the shadows of the curtains broke free of the dance.
Sophie’s heart hammered against her ribcage, the hand on the windowsill a warning, then a familiar blob of blond hair peeked through and panic switched to anticipation and her heart hammered faster, wilder, louder; just more everything.
She hurried to help Keefe up.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Trying to get us both grounded.”
His body hit the floor with a thump as he half jumped, half rolled inside and she cringed, waiting for Sandor to storm in.
Nothing happened.
“There’s some sort of commotion going on at the gorgodon’s enclosure. Your parents and most of the bodyguards went to check.” Keefe explained. “Perfect distraction for me to reverse-Rapunzel my way to you.”
Sophie wanted to worry about whatever might have been going on but something else caught her attention.
“You know who Rapunzel is?”
“I had a lot of time to kill in Humanland.”
He shrugged his answer, words shy as if he feared reminding her of his time in the Forbidden Cities, but Sophie took his hands in hers, grinning.
“And you decided to spend it watching Disney movies?”
“Some. I mean, an adorable, fearless blonde on a quest for justice? She reminded me of you.”
Sophie was sure she was blushing all the way from the tips of her ears to the tips of her toes, but Keefe, too, was red all across his face, rays on moonlight turning the ice in the blue of his stare into fire, and she couldn’t find it in herself to feel embarrassed.
She tilted her chin upwards and he bent his neck downwards and their lips met.
It felt perfectly natural and absolutely extraordinary at the same time.
Their fingers laced together.
“Is it wrong that I’m happy?”
He touched his forehead to hers, runaway wisps of hair tickling along her skin, puffs of air licking across her cheeks. They both closed their eyes. When she shook her head, their noses brushed.
She had battled with that, for weeks upon weeks upon weeks, before and during and after his return, with the knowledge that such an important part of her focus was being devoted to the changes happening inside of her while outside all over their world a war was being waged. It hadn’t been easy. It had, in fact, to date, been one of her most difficult tasks. Because it wasn’t a Project Moonlark thing. It was a Sophie Foster thing. And she wasn’t used to taking things for herself. But what good did it do to deny herself the very life she was fighting so hard for?
Keefe nodded, the motion bringing their lips closer again, and Sophie swore his were smiling.
“Good. Because I’m really, really, really happy.”
“I’m really, really, really happy, too.”
“I know. I can feel it.”
Sophie gasped, eyes opening and widening. “You can?”
Keefe nodded again. “It’s still not like it used to be. You must be feeling it very strongly.”
“I am.”
There was no blushing then, just mouths pressing together, once, twice, the third time Sophie exhaled and Keefe’s bottom lip slotted into the inviting nook created by that separation, he sucked softly and squeezed her hands, before bringing his palms up to cradle her jaw, her freed fingers fisting into his tunic, knuckles grazing his abdomen through the fabric. He pulled her face closer, kissing her harder, and Sophie lifted her arms, circled them around his neck, used them to balance on her toes, trembling when Keefe added teeth, a delicate nibbling that alternated from her upper lip to her bottom lip then back up and down and up and down until there was no way to tell where her mouth ended and his began anymore.
A noise like a choked sigh bubbled up Sophie’s throat and one of Keefe’s hands shifted to her hair, shaking, yet still trailing, still caressing.
They paused, not parted.
“Once I get my empathy back,” he whispered, voice hoarse, breath heavy, and his stare as he took all of her in wasn’t fire anymore, it was a tsunami, deep and powerful and all-encompassing, and wet with the water of withheld tears, “I think I’m going to die.”
“I’d rather you don’t.”
Sophie let her arms fall a bit, so her hands were cupping the nape of his neck, and her fingers branded his skin in slow circles, stroking goosebumps into existence. Keefe gulped.
“You sure? Kinda seems to me like you’re actively trying to kill me, Foster.”
Her grin was the opposite of a denial.
Silence followed, their private pocket of happiness in space and time, a place and moment for them only.
Despite sparkling castles and light leaping and the impossible abilities they both possessed, this was the thing that felt like magic.
Sophie hummed her contentment and closed her eyes.
“Are you falling asleep on me?” Keefe teased.
He steered her towards her bed and she coaxed him into the cocoon of blankets with her.
“Stay.”
“So you’re indeed actively trying to kill me. Whatever my mom has planned for me would pale in comparison to Grady’s reaction to finding me in your bed.”
And yet he still lowered himself on his side beside where she lay.
“Your mom’s plan...”
“I’ve just oblitarated the mood, haven’t I?” he asked when she frowned.
“No!”
“You can’t lie to me, Foster, empathy or not.”
Sophie sighed, turning to also be on her side, hands tucked between her head and one of her pillows, so they could face each other.
“I just wish we had found something in Elysian that could help us.”
“You mean that could help me.”
“Please, stop acting like they’re not the same.”
Keefe settled a hand on her face, palm protecting cheek as his thumb smoothed that adorable crinkle of worry between her eyebrows.
“I can’t, because they’re not. But,” he hurried to add when she opened her mouth to protest, “I swear to you that I will do everything that is necessary so we can do both. Because nothing will ever keep me away from you again.”
The confidence and commitment drawing his expression dissipated her doubts, allowing her to relax under his touch, scooting closer so her head rested just beneath his shoulder, watching him through her eyelashes.
“I’ll hold you up to that.”
“Hold away.”
Holding her stare until the last second, he swooped down the mere centimeters of distance.
Sophie gasped at the contact and Keefe seized the opportunity to explore her mouth deeper than before, tongue soothing the stings of his bites on her lips, before delving inside when her head spontaneously tilted and her freed hands desperately grabbed onto his elbows, making sure he followed when she rolled so his body covered hers. He adjusted in a sort of kneel, an attempt to spare her of his weight, but she tangled their legs, back hovering off the bed. One of his hands steadied her at the waist while the other remained on her face, and the angles of their necks should have been painful but were utter, unprecedented, unparalleled bliss.
Yes.
Here and now was exactly what made fighting worth it.
And as Keefe Rapunzel’ed his way back out of her bedroom, on the cusp of a sleep certainly meant to be short, Sophie vowed that she, too, really, would do everything necessary to preserve it.