Seventeen | Soulmate AU | ✔

32 | the Less, the Better

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I just realized that it's been four chapters since we've had something in Keefe's perspective. And it's been a while since I've updated. You guys must be feeling deprived.

Also, did any of you know that there was a Keefe Sencen idolization wiki? Like, what even. I was searching up details on Cassius Sencen (I lazily gave up after coming across this, mind you) and I stumbled upon it. I genuinely don't know what to do about that, I'm just processing the fact that it exists still.

The day starts out the way it normally would: pleasant. I see Sophie first thing in the morning to pick her up, and after school to drop her off as well. She gives me something to look forward to, something that I haven't had for a little while. It's nice.

Dropping her off is a very fun way of making sure that my willpower is still intact. It's so hard to drive away from her at the end of the day, knowing that I won't be able to see her again until the next day. I'd rather I drop her off, though, because knowing that she gets home safe eases the worries that come with not being in her presence. I've gotten addicted to having her at my fingertips too fast, and it scares me, yet I wouldn't have it any other way.

I pull into my house, stopping to put in the passcode at the gate before I pull into our five-car garage. Our grandiose house towers over me, ever a reminder that my father has power.

I punch in the passcode at the door before entering, my heels echoing in quiet clacks throughout the house as I walk in. I ponder whether or not I should yodel, just for fun, but in the end don't get a chance to decide before I end up running headfirst into the person I would be trying to annoy.

My Father.

If his title can even be such. If we're being real, he's more of a sperm donor.

"Keefe," he greets me, his tone cold as ever. "What luck, running into you here."

His business suit sits immaculately on him, not a wrinkle present. His sculpted blonde hair sits together neatly huddled on his head, still and silent. His face and expression betray nothing, and give no trace of emotion, as per usual. I can expect nothing less from him, perfectly keeping up his image without leaving a hair out of place.

I know that I must look the farthest from his son. I'm less put-together, and more tousled and messier looking. I smile with satisfaction, admiring how I am nothing like him the way he is nothing like me. Without our similar blue-eyes and blonde hair, you would never imagine that we were related in the slightest.

I bite the urge to reply that we do share a house, instead deciding on, "I wouldn't call it luck." I attempt to push past him and pretend that this never happened, but he stops me.

"My son."

Uh-oh. I'm only ever referred to as being associated with him when he wants something from me. I don't turn around, instead waiting for his words so that I can refuse him.

"Tomorrow I have a business meeting with some colleagues, and I would like for you to attend."

"Absolutely not," I say, mocking his snobbish way of speaking. I decide to go even further and wrinkle my nose, pointing my chin up into the air.

"I'm afraid that you don't have a choice in this case, Keefe. I've already called into your school," he wrinkles his nose in distaste, probably thinking of all the lower-class unhealthy filth going there, "and you have been excused from class tomorrow. I was told that Fitz would be able to drop off your schoolwork afterschool and explain your assignments."

He approves of Fitz because Fitz comes from an equally wealthy family and has the same air of entitlement around him at times. Other than the Vackers, he can't stand a single one of my friends. I remember that when we ran into him once, he took one look at the twin's dyed tips and turned up his nose. I haven't bothered to tell him about Sophie yet, because the next thing I know he'll be turning his nose up at her.

The last thing I'd like is to put another person in that position. In my opinion, the less involved in my life he is, the better.

I don't bother arguing with my father. I've given up on arguing with him at times like this, when I know that he'll win regardless. He doesn't care about my opinions or feelings regardless, so I view it as a waste of breath to talk to him. I don't need to interact with him any more than I can.

I continue walking, not bothering to look back. All I can think about is how I'm not going to see Sophie tomorrow, and instead I'm getting to replace her with a business owner's meeting. Ugh.