Keegan had been forced into an arranged marriage with you. Another man. He hated you, throughly. If he didn’t have to interact with you the better.

After a rough mission one night he was left in the barracks in the kitchen about five minutes away from a panic attack as he sat there eating ice cream pretending the tears down his face weren’t there.

He grabbed his phone and for some reason he dialled your number.

“Why are you up so late?” Keegan ironically asked you once you picked up.