Sophie 2.0 - Keefe x Reader

Chapter Titles are Underrated. Oh, and So Are Stinky Old Men

The clock seemed frozen in place. Probably because it was digital, so you couldn't watch the seconds tick past like a proper angsty teenager stuck in school or agonize as the second hand struggled to make its laps. As the last day of school, time had a duty to drag itself as long as it could, reminding you that it wasn't over yet, and that you had to be right back here in three months anyway.

You glanced around, tapping the worn eraser of my pencil against your desk. Your friend, Celia, was sitting in her desk and leaning against the wall, feet propped on the bar of the desk next to hers. Her thick, dyed-black hair did a good job of hiding her earbuds, but you knew they were in there, screaming some metal song into her ears.

The other kids in class were chatting fairly quietly with one another. A few were tossing a crumpled paper ball back and forth. The teacher, Mrs. Williams, didn't really mind. She was laid-back anyway, and most kids really liked her.

Normally by this time you'd have cracked a book open or brought out your phone or doodled on some notebook paper, but you had had to return all your library books earlier that week and had forgotten your others at home. Plus, as laid-back as Mrs. Williams was, she was strictly against phones in a school setting. And you had no paper. You looked at your pencil in disgust. Why did you even have it out? Habit?

You glanced at the clock again. 3:24. One more minute.

One more excruciatingly long minute.

The bell rang.

"Have a great summer! I'll see all you lovelies next year!" Mrs. Williams called as kids shoveled their bags off the floor and slung them on their backs.

You walked with Celia—who hadn't taken her earbuds out—to your lockers and collected the last of your things, making sure there wasn't any trash or anything left. Well, you did. Celia scrolled through her phone and waited for you.

You were circumstantial friends more than anything. Your group of friends had dropped you after freshman year, and she'd never really had one in the first place. You had happened to sit by her during lunch, and she had bothered to take out her earbuds to talk to you. You'd just sort of hung out ever since. It was the kind of friendship that never really left school, and you both understood that if either of you ever stopped talking to the other, that would be that.

You slammed your locker shut and started walking down the hall. Celia peeled herself off of the locker she'd been leaning against and followed. She didn't turn off her music, but she did turn it down so you could chat. She was cool like that.

~*~

When you got home, you went straight to my room. You deposited your messenger bag—you preferred them over backpacks—and went back out to grab a snack from the kitchen.

You mused over the options for a few minutes before grabbing an apple and walking through the dining room to go back to my room.

As you passed the dining table, you spared a glance for the two missing chairs. Dad's and James's.

You sighed, then shook my head and kept walking. Back in your room, you put your earbuds in with the volume cranked up and drew, forgetting the apple beside you.

~*~

For lunch the next day you drove to Starbucks. You was barely peckish, and figured one of their chocolate croissants would satisfy you.

After paying and thanking the barista, you sat at a table and opened Instagram. It had become your new struggle deciding whether or not to start an art account. You kind of wanted to, but then again you weren't sure if you wanted a bunch of strangers to have access to your work.