Picture Us

Chapter 4: Keefe

Keefe rarely displayed signs of nervousness physically, but today he was wringing his fingers so hard, he was half sure he'd snap them off. As per Sophie's instructions, which she'd texted with a worrying amount of grammar, he couldn't be late. She didn't say why, or if this was particularly important, but it was impossible to ignore the perfectly punctuated sentence, with the most passive-aggressive smiley face tailing it.

He was waiting by one of the park benches, a rather secluded area surrounded by bushes where one could see out, but never in. Why was he waiting? Sophie had asked to meet there to talk, he wasn't sure what this talk could be about, but he couldn't push away the thoughts creeping up on him jumping to the worst possible conclusions, filling his mind with dread.

Footsteps approached him from behind, Keefe whipped his head around to see whether it was Sophie. It was, and she looked serious. Keefe greeted her warmly, an attempt to make himself feel better, but she cut him off.

"Keefe. There's something that's been bothering me. You've been so caught up with your artwork, obsessing over this stuff you've barely made any time for me, it's like you've forgotten I'm your girlfriend!"

"Oh...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to I swear" he mumbled, apologetically.

"You should be! I get that being an artist is your dream, but you need know the difference between a dream and reality... There has to be a line drawn somewhere, I'm embarrassed that I'm dating an art major, do you know how hard it is to ignore that part of you? You don't even care about it that much, the project I saw you with proves it!" her words cut deep, her harsh demeanour adding to the his rapidly growing anxiety.

"Why are you embarrassed that your boyfriend has a passion? It's like you don't even care about who I am to you, you only see my choices that shouldn't change how you feel about me!"

"Well, they do change how I feel about you! Honestly, I've been contemplating whether dating you was the right choice, you forgetting about our date earlier was the last straw for me. I can't deal with this anymore, it's over" Keefe wasn't quite sure if she was yelling or not, he was just disassociated, trapped in thought.

Keefe looked up, trying his best to maintain eye contact "But why? You didn't bring this up earlier so why so suddenly? Why couldn't you tell me this earlier when you were feeling like I wasn't being a good boyfriend first?" he choked, on the verge of tears, just barely holding back

"I'm sorry Keefe, it's just... You haven't been treating me like I'm someone important, as your girlfriend I should take priority over your stupid sketches. We're over." She reasoned, honestly Keefe tried to see what he was doing wrong, but thinking about it only grew the hurt and confusion that clouded his mind.

"I know damn well you're not sorry, and don't call my sketches stupid, they're the most important thing that is always with me." he gave up on holding back his tears. they fell onto the back of his hands, which were tightly clenched over his sketchbook, he faced away from Sophie refusing to look into her eyes, hiding how hurt he was by what she said to him. He stood up, wishing her the best, tears streaming down his face.

Whatever, he told himself. He didn't need stupid Sophie, who only cared about herself, and his stupid father, who could only point out Keefe as his biggest mistake, and a stupid career in what he loved. No. He could do without. Live on the streets, scraping by for food. That's what he was going to be doing anyway, as an art major.

He couldn't stop the sinking feeling in his stomach. Like a void had opened inside him and consumed him like fire. He shook his head. He couldn't show that. He hid behind a building in the campus, where no one else was, crouched down, and cried.

Loud, earthshaking sobs. His heart thundered in his chest, the earlier pitter patter now drumming against his ribs. He struggled to breathe in and out. His lungs had constricted, and Keefe couldn't get himself to calm down. This is it, he thought, allowing tears to cloud his vision. I'm done. I'm done, done, done.

He fell to the ground, his head hitting hard on the concrete. He screamed, his whole body shaking from the effort. He tried to think, but it felt as if a hammer was pounding on his skull, trying to get to his brain. He felt something wet. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to check if it was blood or his tears. He let out one more strangled cry for help before succumbing to the black nothingness that engulfed him.

***

"Keefe? Keefe Sencen? Ah, he's finally coming to." A smooth voice yelled, but not to me. The voice was far away and in another direction.

"What...happened? Am I dead? Am I in heaven now?" Keefe imagined heaven as a paradise built using cloud as construction materials and had ice-cream on tap, all day, every day. He also imagined a blinding light, but the voice who was shining the light just snorted.

"My, how very dramatic." he said. Keefe got up, ignoring the throbbing in his head and forcing his eyes to take in the surroundings. Tiles made up the walls, and the sterile scent of antiseptic burned his nostrils. The bed he was lying on was anything but soft and the sheet covering his was scratchy. He pushed it off him but pulled it right back up when a blast of cold air hit him.

Oh. The healing centre.

"I'm nurse Elwin." A man with a chiselled chin and thick glasses examined Keefe, adjusting something on his head. "You fell and hit your head pretty badly. Luckily, a group of seniors heard your scream and brought you here. They left a while ago, though, so I guess your superheroes prefer to keep their identity secret."

As cool as it sounded, that was kind of anticlimactic. He smiled, a fake smile of course, and thanked Elwin, who, despite smiling as well, was not buying his bullshit. Keefe was about to walk out the healing centre when Elwin hesitated.

"Wait!" Elwin called, and when Keefe turned around, it looked like he was still searching for the words. He smiled. "Take care of yourself, okay? Mentally or physically. And if you don't, well, bullhorn and I will be having a chat with you."

As if on cue, the dog barked. and pointed it Keefe. The blond grinned and saluted.

"Will do." Keefe said, and this time he left, retreating to his dorm room.