3

Sophie stepped into the lounge, where the soft morning light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Biana was already there, setting down two plates piled high with blueberry pancakes, drizzled with syrup.

"Hey, Soph," Biana said, her voice gentle but steady. "Sit down. I made your favorite."

Sophie sank into the couch, the weight of last night still heavy but softened by Biana's presence. "Thanks, Biana. I really needed this."

Biana sat beside her, nudging a plate closer. "You don't have to say anything if you're not ready. But I'm here, okay? For whatever you need."

Sophie took a deep breath, staring at the pancakes before looking back at her best friend. "Last night... it felt like Fitz wasn't just pushing me away from him, but pushing me away from myself."

Biana's brow furrowed with concern. "That's awful, Soph. You deserve to be exactly who you are — no compromises."

"I'm just so tired," Sophie admitted quietly. "But talking to Keefe... it was different. No pressure. No expectations. Just kindness."

A soft smile lifted Biana's lips as she reached over to squeeze Sophie's hand. "Sounds like you're starting a fresh chapter. And I'm here to make sure it's one you deserve."

Sophie nodded, feeling a small flicker of hope stirring inside her. "Thanks, Biana. For everything — for always being there."

"Always," Biana replied warmly. "Now, eat up. We've got a lot ahead of us."

Sophie smiled, the heaviness in her chest easing as she dug into the warm pancakes, comforted by friendship and the promise of new beginnings.

Sophie poked at her pancakes, then looked up at Biana with a hesitant smile.

"You know... I think I might be... liking him. Like, a little bit," she admitted softly.

Biana's eyes lit up, and she practically leaned forward. "Omg, omg, you're perfect for each other!"

Sophie rolled her eyes, laughing. "Shut up, Biana! Someone will hear you!"

Biana grinned, mimicking Sophie in a teasing voice, "Someone will hear us... this is our lounge!"

Sophie smiled, knowing exactly what she meant — their own lounge, private and cozy, thanks to Biana's parents paying for it.

"Yeah, well, don't forget who paid for this place," Sophie teased back. "So, you better keep it down!"

Biana laughed, settling back with a playful wink. "Fine, fine. But seriously — maybe this is the start of something good."

Sophie smiled softly, a flicker of hope glowing inside her. "Maybe."

                                                                                     · · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

Sophie sat cross-legged on her bed, her laptop open but forgotten, the glow from the screen casting soft light across her face. She scrolled back through Keefe's messages—funny, effortless, kind. He wasn't trying too hard. He wasn't trying anything, really. He was just... himself. And somehow, that made it harder to stop thinking about him.

A new message popped up.

Keefe: You up? I just saw the worst movie ever made. Please tell me your taste is better than mine.

Sophie smiled.

Sophie: Define 'worst.'

Keefe: There was a talking dog and a crime ring. And the dog was the villain.

She burst out laughing, her shoulders shaking as she replied.

Sophie: That's impressively bad.

Keefe: Biana said you'd say that.

Sophie froze for a moment. He was with Biana?

Before she could overthink it, another message appeared.

Keefe: Relax, she just popped into the lounge to grab her curling iron. She also said you were 'sulking like a dramatic poet.' Accurate?

Sophie rolled her eyes and typed back:

Sophie: More like recovering from party trauma and weird boys.

There was a pause.

Keefe: Do I count as a weird boy?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. A beat passed. Then two.

Sophie: You're different.

Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared.

Keefe: Is that good?

Sophie's chest tightened, not in a bad way. She looked around the room as if the walls could answer for her.

Sophie: Yeah. I think it might be.

Just as she hit send, her door creaked open slightly.

Biana poked her head in, one eyebrow raised. "Did I just see you smile at your phone?"

Sophie groaned and tossed a pillow in her direction. "Get out!"

Biana cackled and ducked. "You liiiiike him!"

"SHUT UP, Biana," Sophie hissed, diving under her blanket, cheeks burning.

"I'll stop if you admit it!" Biana shouted, already halfway down the hall.

Sophie peeked out from the covers, heart racing. She didn't say anything aloud. But deep down? She wasn't so sure she could deny it anymore.

                                                                         · · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

Later that night, Sophie wandered into the kitchen in fuzzy socks and an oversized jumper. The apartment was quiet, most of the building winding down. She hadn't been able to sleep—too many thoughts, too many what-ifs.

She opened the fridge, hoping for something mildly interesting. Instead, she found half a juice box and some questionable leftover noodles.

"Wow," came a voice from behind. "Your fridge is somehow sadder than mine."

Sophie jumped, spinning around. Keefe stood in the doorway, hoodie pulled halfway over his head, a toothbrush in one hand.

She blinked. "Do you just wander around brushing your teeth and judging people's snacks?"

Keefe leaned against the counter with a sleepy grin. "Only when I get thirsty mid-rinse. You caught me in my most glamorous form."

Sophie laughed softly. "You've got some toothpaste on your hoodie."

Keefe glanced down. "Classic me." He wiped it off and stepped further in. "Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head, fiddling with a mug she didn't really need. "Brain won't shut up."

He nodded. "Same. It's like all the thoughts I avoided during the day show up at 2AM with a megaphone."

There was a long pause. Not awkward—just heavy with something unsaid.

Then Keefe said, quieter, "Fitz hurt you."

OKII GUYSSSS thats probs gonna be like one of the longer chapters, so yeah, they're pretty short. I think i'll finish this story today. Cause well I've finished the writing.... little sokefee moment next!!!  ♡♡♡♡