Trigger Warning: Uh, self h*rm, s*icide attempt, etc.

Note: So

I had this i d e a for a SoKeefe oneshot that started with "He wasn't supposed to notice" and...yep. Ehehe. It's super cheesy and unrealistic, but ehhh, who cares?

Also, once again, they're humans. Just a heads up.

. . .

He wasn't supposed to notice.

   Keefe shouldn't notice the bags under her eyes, shouldn't find himself realizing that Sophie only wore long sleeves anymore. Or the tears that lingered in the corners of her chestnut brown eyes. Or the fact that she had started excusing herself to go to the bathroom so much more often, ever since her breakup with Fitz three months ago.

   Sure, Fitz had sported a tense jaw and been more zoned out for a couple weeks, but Sophie seemed to be taking it hard.

   And he shouldn't be noticing this. Because she tried so hard to hide it. Because if he got too close to Sophie, Keefe knew it would be hard on Fitz. Because Fitz knew that Keefe liked her, that he'd liked her even when FitzPhie was a thing—maybe even before.

   But Keefe wished he didn't have to ignore everything that no one else seemed to notice. Sophie needed a friend, and he WAS her friend, but it was hard to hold her at arms length when he wanted to be her BEST friend. He wanted to be her shoulder to cry on, wanted to let her be his everything, wanted to kiss her and love her and not worry about it tearing their friend group apart.

. . .

   One night, Keefe was at home trying to ignore his au pair—Romhilda Ogrie—and his father as they argued about who knew what anymore, when he received a text from "Fitzroy-My Sidekick" with just one simple word.

| call |

   No punctuation, not even a capital letter—and proper typing and full sentences were like, Fitz's whole thing. He practically was the president of grammar police.

   Keefe debated sending him a teasing reply back, but decided that whatever Fitz wanted to call about must be super important.

   "Hey Fitzy, you good?" Keefe asked, stepping outside.

   "Uh, yeah, yeah I'm good...uh hey buddy, would you go check on Sophie? Please?" Fitz asked. He sounded really nervous, surprising Keefe.

   "Uhh, sure. Wassup with Foster?"

   "She, uh...I'll just copy paste what she just sent me. And I'd go myself, but you know, I'm grounded and I tried asking if I could go but dad said no, so...ah, there. Did it send?"

   Keefe got a notification. "Yeah, got it."

   He opened the text notification, reading the forwarded message.

hey fitz so, i'm sorry. i'm sorry for every thing, i just uh-
i dunno. i guess i can't do this anymore so tell our friends i love them.
kay? i don't know. i don't know how to write this so i guess that's it? lol.
don't feel bad. or remember me. ily. good bye.

   "Tell me this is a prank." Keefe said, his head starting to spin.

   "Nah man, just—are you on your way?"

   "Yeah, yeah I'm going now." Keefe said, heading Sophie's way, "When did she send that...that?"

   "Uh, just now...few minutes ago, right before I called you."

   "Actually I called you." Keefe couldn't help reminding him, even though he could barely breathe as he ran. Almost there..

   "Whatever. Just please help her, okay? I...I know we broke up but I still care about her.."

   "Of course. I'll do everything I can. I'm there now."

   "Alright. Good luck mate. And—if you two start dating or anything weird like that happens...uh, anything to prevent the worst. Anything you can do."

   For once Keefe was pretty speechless. "Uh—alright. Alright. Cya."

   "Bye." Fitz said, hanging up.

   Keefe went around to the back, pocketing his phone. He knocked on Sophie's window a couple times, then waited a few agonizing seconds. When she didn't answer, he knocked again more urgently, not stopping until she opened the drapes.

   He felt sick to his stomach when he saw the blood seeping through her sweatshirt sleeve as she unlocked the window, opening it.

   "K-Keefe?" she cried, trembling.

   "Hey Foster, uh—can, can you take out the screen?"

   She nodded, her fingers shaking as she worked to remove the window screen, more and more blood running down her wrist, into her palm. Once the screen was out, Keefe climbed in and pulled her into his arms first thing, not wasting any time on jokes or questions.

   Sophie sucked in a breath before she broke down crying, extra noisy as she tried to hold back the floodgates.

   They both sank to the floor and cried together. After a few minutes he pulled away, wiping away the salty drops on his cheek. "Foster, I'm gonna call the hospital, okay? You can't die. You can't."

   She shook her head and bit her lip, waiting until her tears subsided enough for her to whisper, "R-Right now it's not th-that deep. I just...just need some bandages.."

   "I'll get them," Keefe said, jumping to his feet, "Your bathroom, right?"

   She nodded, biting her lip so hard he saw the skin beneath her lips turn white.

   He quickly got the bandages, some alcohol, a damp washcloth and the hand towel that was up there. When he saw the still bloody razor out on the counter, he made sure to throw that thing in the trash. She won't need you again, not if I have anything to do about it.

   He went back with his arms full, setting everything between them as he knelt down in front of her.

   "Alright Foster, I'm here to fix you up." he said, trying to force himself to go back to the jokester mood that usually came all too easily to him, but it came out way different then he intended. More...sad, or distressed? Bleh, something like that, anyway.

   She rolled up her left sleeve and held her arm out to him, staring at the floor off to the side.

   He wanted to say something comforting to her, but what?

   So instead he gently grabbed her arm and started wiping away the blood with the washcloth, trying not to count how many scars were there, or how old some of them looked and how new others appeared to be.

   When he put the alcohol on her arm, she sucked a breath through her teeth and flinched a bit.

   "I'm sorry, Sophie.." he mumbled.

   "For?" she asked, looking up.

    "That—that I've not been there. That you feel so hopeless...that I've not been a good friend.."

   "I've not told a-anyone. No one knows.."

   "I noticed, I knew," Keefe said, looking up, "I saw the sweatshirts and long sleeves. I saw the tears. I knew you were...I knew you were hurting. But I never thought you'd consider suicide...I know it's stupid, I mean after self harm, suicide is usually the next step, I just," he ran a hand through his hair, "I'm sorry."

   "Fitz told you? T-Tonight, I mean."

   Keefe nodded, gently wrapping bandages around her wrist.

   Sophie looked down dejectedly, tears falling again. "I'm so sorry Keefe."

   "You shouldn't be," he said, "Don't apologize. I'm the one who wasn't there for you.."

   "No, but...I worried you.." she said weakly, and Keefe felt the doubt that oozed from her sentence, almost as if she were asking how much he really cared.

   "I mean...yeah. I'm pretty scared for you Foster. If I could take your pain to myself, I would...but I'd rather be here and know then let you die and forget about you. I COULDN'T forget you, Foster. Not in a million years, even if I tried to. And I know that's kinda cheesy...but it's true."

   Sophie laughed as more tears fell. Keefe finished wrapping her wrist and let it drop into her lap.

   "So, wanna talk about anything?" he asked.

   "Like?"

   "Like why you feel so alone. Like this is the only option." he said, holding up the bloody washcloth.

   "It'll sound so stupid.." she mumbled.

   "Uhh, have you MET me Foster? I'm the KING of stupid. No, seriously, I really wanna know." he added on a more serious note when she looked unsure.

   And so she started to pour everything out. How she felt hurt about never getting to meet Jolie, and her pain of being adopted. About her biological mother sending her a message in Instagram DMs, and the breakup with Fitz, and doing awful in school, and feeling the weight of the world, and reading stories online about the awful things people actually do, and the confusion that seemed to surface about everything and anything.

   By the time that she was done, the tears that had flowed freely throughout her explanation had dried, staining her cheeks.

   Keefe reached for her hand. "Alright...so I sorta understand some of that. But c'mon, Foster, why should you punish your family and friends for the evil things other people do? I mean, we love you. So much. Fitz got your text, asked his dad if he could come over and when the answer was no he sent me to check up on you...I mean, he still likes you, Sophie. Even if you guys are meant to be just friends, he doesn't want you to go out like this...and I don't either. You're not alone in everything...I'm here. I WANNA be here for you. I love you."

   Sophie nodded and shifted so that she could go in to give Keefe a hug. "I'm so glad we are friends, Keefe. Thank you so much.."

. . .

   So, he was still friendzoned. But that was alright. Because he had Sophie in his arms and she was alright. And that was all that mattered.

   And from then on he would make sure she was okay when he noticed something may be wrong. Both he and Fitz paid more attention and tried to be there. And, eventually, Sophie confessed her crush on Keefe (she never knew that he'd liked her first), and they went on to marry and make a comfortable life together.

   But that night had paved the way for her to be his best friend—and that never changed. Some days he was there for her, other days she was there for him. But they could always rely on each other, and the bond was mutual.

   And while she went on to continue fighting self harm and relapsing almost her whole life, she never almost attempted suicide again.