❝He even treated himself to a Batman hoodie and a T-shirt that said IT'S ME. HI. I'M THE PROBLEM, IT'S ME.-which felt very fitting.

According to his shopper, it was a lyric from a song he needed to listen to.

She'd actually gasped when he'd asked, "What's a Swiftie?" ❞

~Unraveled, Chapter Sixteen

— ~ —

KEEFE SAT ON HIS BED, WONDERING IF IT WAS possible for one to actually die of boredom. Now that he wasn't worrying and fighting for his life and the life of everyone he cared about, there was surprisingly little to do.

How ironic.

Now that the Neverseen were finally gone and the elvin world was finally free, he felt...strangely empty. 

He even kinda missed Ro standing in the corner, an ever-present snarky comeback on her tongue. 

Words felt scarce—like if he spoke, the sound would bounce off of the wall and into his chest, securing their imprisonment.

But if he was being honest?

The thing he missed most about the constant danger--the adventures--the meetings--was Sophie.

Hugging her, holding her, comforting her, kissing her...

He shook his head. It wasn't that he liked when Sophie was scared or upset--that would make him the world's biggest sadist--rather he liked when she trusted him and looked to him for comfort.

That was something he'd never received before.

He sighed, gaze travelling around the room until his eyes landed on the bag he'd brought back from the human world. He'd only opened it once to give Sophie the elf. 

After that, it had stayed closed.

Strangely, it felt like a separate part of his life now—something he should keep away now that he was safe and happy.

But maybe it was time to unpack. 

Get some closure.

He thumbed through the bag, smiling slightly as he pulled out the Batman hoodie and then...

It was wrinkled, and the print was faded from all those weeks in the bag. But he could still make out the words, in bold capital, he'd related to all that time ago: IT'S ME. HI. I'M THE PROBLEM, IT'S ME.

He felt his lips tug into a smile as he remembered his conversation with the shopper.

"You're a Swiftie, then?" she'd commented, sounding rather excited when Keefe had tugged the shirt off the hanger and exclaimed, "Where has this been all my life???"

Another girl passing had grimaced, giving him a quite impressive side-eye. "Ew. If he is, he can keep it to himself."

He'd frowned, turning the word over in his head (before he could figure out why the other girl had been disgusted—was there something in his teeth?) The word sounded strange—he was pretty sure it wasn't an official word; he'd never seen it in a human dictionary. "What's a Swiftie?"

Her jaw had dropped and she'd gasped. "Have you been living under a rock?"

When Keefe blinked, she continued, "Eras Tour? Friendship bracelets? Anything?"

Shaking his head, he then noticed an armful of colorful beaded bracelets she was wearing, each of which seemed to say something weird like Midnights, reputation, and folklore. 

She shook her own head, disbelieving. "Well, listen to Anti-Hero when you get time."

The conversation had then moved on.

Weirdly enough...he'd forgotten to listen to Anti-Hero.

The rest of the time he'd spent in Humanland had been filled with the days monitoring Alvar...and well, all the Ethan stuff.

Now that it was all over, he didn't need to worry about either. He knew that Ethan's daughter was where she wanted to be. And Alvar...he was where he felt like himself. Finally, he'd glimpsed the Alvar he had been before jealousy and bitterness seeped through his skin and into his heart, driving him mad. He knew he wouldn't regret leaving both of them where they wanted to spend their days. Neither would forgive him if he brought them back to the Lost Cities—the source of so many of their nightmares.

Wherever Alvar and Eleanor were, he hoped they'd remember him, maybe with the slightest shade of warmth behind those thoughts.

And now his thought process was getting sappy, and he was gonna have to stop.

He glanced at the T-shirt again.

Hesitated.

Then strengthened his resolve.

Maybe it was time to find out what a Swiftie was.

—~—

KEEFE! KEEFE! KEEFE!

Apparently, just because the whole Stellarlune thing as he dubbed it in his mind was over, it didn't mean Silveny would stop transmitting to him, each transmission crashing like an unforgiving tidal wave into his mind.

He screwed his eyes shut. "Good to see you too, Silveny."

Silveny studied him with a deep brown alicorn eye that reminded him uncannily of Sophie's. KEEFE TALK SOPHIE?

"Oh." Keefe glanced down at himself, locking his eyes on the lettering across his shirt. "Oh. Yeah. Um, I guess I am..."

Suddenly, he felt very, very, stupid.

Wasn't this all just an excuse to see Sophie? Did he really think that by grabbing at strings and having a pathetic question, he could make her want to see him?

He was already here now, wasn't he?

Might as well get himself embarrassed, make her think he was more of a dork than she already did.

Then again, they...hadn't really had a chance to talk everything out after everything else went down.

Maybe this was the perfect opportunity.

He straightened, trying to appear more confident—for whom, he was not sure—before he told Silveny, "All right, Glitter Butt. Lead the way.

—~—

"Keefe!" He was relieved to see that Sophie's voice carried no guard, sounded absolutely relieved to see him. Then, realizing she was in front of her parents, her embarrassment flared and she blushed. "You're, um...you're wearing a T-shirt..."

Then the slogan caught her attention and her eyes widened. "You have-?"

Edaline interrupted, probably able to make neither head nor tail of this bizzare interaction. "Grady, why don't we go check on the gorgodon? The new location must be...challenging." 

Keefe suppressed a smirk as he recalled the animated tale Sophie had told during lunch the other day—beginning with shifting its enclosure and ending in some seriously epic destruction.

Grady huffed. "There's no need. I checked an hour ago and-" 

Edaline dragged him to his feet. "I'm sure there's something else to do." She flashed him the sort of tender motherly smile he'd waited in vain for years to see on his own mother's face, and then they left. 

Grady glared at Keefe through the corner of his eye. "You better-"

Edaline, forever on damage control, practically bodily escorted him from the room.

The door swung shut with a sound of finality.

Keefe cleared his throat, meeting the vivid eyes it was impossible to emulate in any painting. "Sorry to drop by unannounced, but..." he said, borrowing the words she'd said to him what felt like so long ago.

"Yes?" she said. There was no hint of impatience in her voice, and yet Keefe felt like he would take up her time if he continued to awkwardly loiter around the couch, a meter away. The air between them was thickening, forming a shield he needed to break through to be with her. A barrier he needed to break through to find out what they were to each other.

He sat, trying to figure out how not to sound like the world's most pathetic loser who'd just wanted an excuse to see her.

Cleared his throat.

Coughed.

Then, in the most pathetic voice ever: "Do you know what a Swiftie is?"

He internally cringed at the weak tune of his voice, unable to carry itself.

Sophie's eyes traveled to his shirt once more. "You spent all that time with the humans and you still don't know what a Swiftie is?"

"No?"

Sophie shook her head. "Disgraceful. Wait here for a second—"

She hurried upstairs and every breath felt timed—a second in which she might not return.In which she might leave him like he'd left her, twice.

But she did come back, with a device clutched in her hand that he recognized as an iPod—her iPod.

"I have it right—" her thumb went frantic across the screen—"here. You know, the lyric on your T-shirt had to come from somewhere."

She held up the device triumphantly, pressing the "play" button, and a woman's voice belted through the tiny speakers.

"I have this thing where I get older, but just never wiser 

Midnights become my afternoons..."

He glanced at Sophie, but she wasn't paying attention, moving her head up and down with the music as if she'd been caught in the beat.

"I should not be left to my own devices, they come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis."

Oh wow.

That hit a lot harder than he'd expected it to.

Even harder when the chorus began.

"It's me

Hi

I'm the problem, it's me

At teatime, everybody agrees..."

Keefe knew he had never really appreciated human music before, but there was just something about this song that made him feel like his ears were opening for the first time. There was something about the raw honesty of these lyrics that struck where it was meant to, and he had a feeling that everybody--old or young, boy or girl--could look into these lyrics and see themselves.

Which might be one of the sappiest thoughts he ever had...but hey,  that's what music was for, right?

"Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby, and I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed..."

Every negative thing he'd ever thought about himself seemed to come out here, ringing in his head until the very last verse.

He couldn't help stealing a glance at Foster, and he thought her expression mirrored what his probably looked like—glazed, starry eyes and slightly flushed cheeks.

The final note rung, and he let out a breath. "Damn."

It took him a second to realize that the word was not only from him—a second voice had echoed in sync with his.

He looked at Sophie. "Haven't you listened to this before?"

"Yeah, but it's overwhelming each time. Lovable in a very odd way."

"Kind of like you," Keefe added as an afterthought without thinking.

Then he froze, mentally cursing himself. What was he saying today?

Foster's cheeks did flush a light pink, but she still smiled faintly. "Thanks."

 It was amazing how much confidence defeating the Neverseen had given her. Not so long ago, she would've stared at the floor until the awkwardness lapsed.

A gift—in its own way.

"That's the thing about her songs," she added. "They strike just the right emotional chord."

"They do." As an Empath, Keefe could tell. 

Sophie seemed to have jumped onto the chance to talk about a human artist to someone. Now that he'd been to the world she'd been raised in, he couldn't imagine how she managed nit to drop in any references.

Like when he'd brought up Ritz Crackers to Fitz the other day, which only earned him a confused look.

Keefe had ended up leaving the room, muttering about how there was no respect left for puns and odd human delicacies. 

Now he brought himself back to the present. "But that's not it! She has so many other relatable songs people don't notice in face of her breakup songs!"

He smirked. She really was adorable when she was excited.

Suddenly recalling his confidence, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her near him. "Well...what are we waiting for?"

She squeaked a little. War victor or not, there was no changing that adorable way she blushed when she was flustered. "I will play something, if you let me go!"

He laughed, bringing his head down to brush her lips with his. "Never."

"Well then I guess you don't want to listen to a song called I Look In People's Windows?"

Abandoning all pretense of being smooth, he sat up, releasing her. "Wait, what?"

She smirked, clearly jubilant at having the upper hand. "I'll play it, but you have to listen to another of my favorites first."

"This is Foster Privilege," he whined, drumming his fingers on her shoulders.

"Indeed it is. Deal with it."

"I bow to the feet of my lady."

"Yours only?" she teased.

"Well, and the Lost Cities.' And Team Awesome's! And-"

"Please stop."

Keefe pretended to be hurt. "Rude."

She rolled her eyes. "We listening to music or not? Let's go through some-"

He nestled against her, draping his arms arounnoticing how she didn't seem to mind as her finger went to a song titled Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? "This one's a bit angry. I think you'll like it."

Oh well, as long as he could stay cuddled against her for awhile, he could handle not being able to listen to a song called I Look In People's Windows.

"The "Who's Who?" of "Who's That?"

Is poised for the attack..."

Yeah, he could definitely sit here for a while.

And—he kept this thought quiet, in the very back of his mind—maybe forever, if she was willing.