Sophie couldn't stop thinking about it.

She tried to. She talked to Marella, who kept asking questions about a certain dark-haired coworker of hers(Sophie got the feeling she was missing something), she finally got Tam and Linh's numbers, and she spent time at Havenfield with her dad. She even hung out with Biana and her distractingly handsome brother.

Despite it all, even Fitz's warm gaze couldn't take her mind off it. Him.

Keefe Sencen.

Snowflake Boy.

She knew she had hurt him, and she regretted it fully. In her mind, she knew she had reason to be upset, but her heart kept whispering that he didn't deserve what she'd said to him.

After all, he didn't know. And who's fault was that?

Nobody's.

Well, hers.

But no one could know that she still skated. She couldn't control what other people might let slip, and what might accidentally reach her parents' ears. She was just being cautious...

She pushed off from the edge of the rink, where she had fled to as soon as the school week had ended. To her surprise, she wobbled a bit. She frowned. Was she getting worse, or just distracted?

She smacked her cheeks with her hands hard, trying to get herself to stop thinking, and pushed off again.

She skated in swooping, curving lines, almost like she was etching a deliberate pattern into the ice. The ice was her paint, the skates were her brush, and she painted out a picture of grief and agony and happiness and regret. Tears and laughter and sobs and smiles. If there was any way to describe the way the ice made her feel, this was it. A flurry of uncontrollable feelings that only seemed to come out untamed when she was here, inhaling the freezing air and chilling the tips of her fingers and nose.

The scratching sound of blades against ice was a soothing presence, filling the otherwise suffocating silence. She skated around faster, the scratching speeding up with every new step that she took, until her surroundings were a colorless blur and the only thing she could hear was her pounding heart...

And her incredibly loud, incredibly invasive thoughts about Keefe.

She slowed to a more even pace, huffing out shallow breaths. Sweat trickled from her temple, and as she leaned her head forward, dropped onto the ice like salty tears.

"Would you just shut up?" she whispered to herself, clutching her head. "I get it, I feel guilty. You win. But stop pestering me!" She realized how ridiculous she would look to anyone who walked in, but she was too mad at herself and her thoughts to care. She was too prideful to go find him and apologize, and this was how she punished herself for it.

She shook her head and pushed off from the barrier again, trying to go at a steadier pace than her angry, rage-driven one from before. Her breathing slowly evened out, and she had to roll her eyes at herself as she calmed. She always let the over-thinking side of her mind take over, and it wasn't exactly something to be happy about.

Emotions were always tricky for her, even as a kid. As she was bounced around from place to place, with Prentice scrambling to keep his promise to her six-year old heart, she had learned that a lot of the times, the family that took her in did it more to benefit themselves than her.

They used her as a device to try and convince themselves that they were good people, and in the process, never did a good job of showing her that they cared. Only one family actually paid attention to her, and they were ripped from her grasp just as fast as the small amount of affection they expressed.

She eventually learned that How are you? really meant Are you okay enough to pretend you're fine?, and Tell me how you feel really meant Please don't make me listen to you.

Even now, with wonderful, loving, impossibly caring parents that the world had granted her, and her cousin's reminder that all emotions will escape either way, suppressing her feelings was a hard habit to break.

The first families she could remember were the ones that tossed her around like an object for their own personal gain, and it impacted her long after the time had passed.

Lost in her thoughts, she nearly stumbled on the ice again, starling her back into awareness of her surroundings. She locked her hands behind her back and pushed forward, re-balancing on the ice as she glided across.

There was a sudden creaking noise, alerting her of someone's arrival and making her spin around sharply as they pushed open the door that Mr. Forkle stubbornly refused to fix. Sophie knew who it was before she saw the signature carefully-styled, messy blonde waves.

"How do you always manage to be here when I come here to think? It's almost like you're trying to be annoying," she bit out, wanting to smack herself immediately afterward. All she'd been thinking about was fix by whatever it was that she had broken between them, and the first thing she said was rude.

"Hello to you too." Keefe smirked, but it looked forced, and his hair was a bit more droopy than usual. "Can we talk?"

"Do you mean can you talk? Because we both know how much you love to do that." Though she did feel guilty, in the days that had passed since she'd yelled, she'd started to grow more annoyed at the whole thing, and now that he was here, frustration she hadn't realized she harbored in her mind was bubbling over. She skated over to face him through the plastic-and-glass, balling her fists tightly by her sides.

"I know that I overstepped my boundaries. And I'm sorry. Really, I am." He tore a hand through his hair. "I just don't understand, and I wish I did."

Sophie sighed roughly, almost growling. "That's the thing. You can't. So please, Keefe, stop trying to. Maybe someday everything will work out, but right now... I don't know. It's hard to explain and painful at the very center of it. The root of the problem is something I'd rather not get into, especially when I can't risk anyone else finding out."

"Oh..."

She skated even closer to the barrier, and though they were still separated, the open look in his eyes, so different from the empty mask before, warmed her inside.

"I understand." He hesitated for a moment, and then smiled apologetically, and Sophie had to smile back.

"Thank you," she murmured, "for understanding."

"I get it. Some things are... hard to talk about. Too painful," he said quietly, the torrent of emotions in his eyes saying so much more than his words. He moved to leave, but his name slipped past her lips before she could stop herself.

"Keefe."

He turned. "Yeah?"

"For what it's worth... I'm sorry, too."

He blinked. "Ah... it's okay."

"No, it's not," Sophie said firmly. "I shouldn't have gotten upset and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"You had reason to," he laughed.

"Still."

"It really is okay," he said after a moment. "I forgive you."

"I'm glad."

He turned to leave again, but then spun right back around. "And it's worth a lot more than you think, Sophie."

Her first name again. Without her consent, her heart stuttered for a beat, and she had to fight the urge to hide behind her hair.

Before she could stop herself, she was asking him to stay.

All he did was as grab a pair of skates and smile.

When he joined her, his first steps were smooth. As he neared her, he grinned proudly, before promptly slipping and falling straight into Sophie, who lunged her arms to catch him just in time.

"Did you just sweep me off my feet, Foster?" Keefe smirked, batting his eyelashes up at her.

She shoved him away immediately, trying to cover up the traitorous blush she could feel warming her cheeks with an eye roll. "And just when I thought you were getting better at skating."

"Well, I can't be good at everything. That's a bit much, even for me, Foster."

"Ha ha. You're funny."

"One of many things I am good at."

She pushed him lightly, but enough so that he wobbled. "Keep it up and I'll make you fall over, and I won't catch you this time."

"My prince would never betray me like that," he declared, clutching the fabric of his gray hoodie over his heart dramatically.

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "Too bad I'm not a prince, then, isn't it?"

"Says the one who just gallantly caught me as I fell," Keefe retorted.

"Would that make you a princess, then?" Sophie laughed, imagining him in a ball gown. "I think you'd look fantastic in a tiara."

"The Hair can work anything." Keefe smirked.

"The Hair? I didn't realize you were at the 'titling parts of my body' stage of conceited." She crossed her arms mockingly.

"Hey, don't let my confidence fool you. Believe it or not, I do have emotions, deep, deep inside." There was a ring of truth to his words that made them both look away, easy smiles fading. The air turned awkward as they remembered the way Sophie had lashed out at him.

The more time Sophie spent around him, the more she was convinced that someone had hurt him, badly. Perhaps beyond repair. Despite the way he carried himself, sometimes he seemed so small. Lost. Maybe even a little bit lonely.

Keefe turned to her suddenly, nearly making himself fall with the force of his spin. He opened his mouth to say something, just as another creak echoed through the room. Both of them whirled to the source of the noise. Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie saw Keefe's face drain of color.

It was a tall blonde man, the angles of his face so sharp they looked chiseled from stone. Though she had never met the man, when his eyes laid to rest on her, she felt an inexplicable chill run through her body.

If there was any way to describe this man at first glance, it would be cold.

Sophie turned to look at Keefe, whose expression seemed to be frozen in a mix of sadness and anger and fear. The last one made Sophie tense up.

She'd finally found something that Snowflake Boy was afraid of. Or rather, it had found her.

And it was... this man? Sophie glanced at the figure who was making his way around the side of the rink, wondering what his relationship with Keefe was. She noticed that he carefully avoided touching the benches and barrier.

She heard Keefe blow out a breath. "That's..." he whispered. "That's my father."

"Oh," Sophie murmured with shock. Before she could ask questions, like why do you look so scared, the man had finally reached them and was opening his mouth to speak.

"The old, wrinkled man said I would find you here," Keefe's father said, his voice crisp and just as cold as his eyes. He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't expect to find you with a girl."

Keefe said nothing, his eyes cast downward.

"Don't be shy. Introduce me to your friend." It was a demand, leaving no room for discussion.

Keefe's hands clenched, and he lifted his head. He swiftly glanced at her, before looking at his dad. "This is Sophie. Sophie, this is my father... Cassius." He didn't offer anything besides that, and Sophie shifted from foot to foot as the awkward silence grew thicker.

"Ah. Is she the reason why you've been coming here so often, then?" Cassius appraised her boredly, clearly unimpressed, and Sophie slid closer to Keefe. Her intent was to comfort him, but despite the fear on his face, he automatically shifted so that he was blocking her slightly. Almost protecting her...

But from what? His own father?

Sophie had so many questions, but she forced herself to stay silent.

"Well, if you're here, I trust that you studied for four hours like I asked?" His dad went on. "That eighty-eight in chemistry won't improve unless you give it one-hundred percent." His eyes slid to Sophie again. "No distractions."

Keefe snorted. His eyes gleamed with a spiteful, rebellious spark.

Cassius sighed, rubbing between his eyes. "Such a pain. I heard that both of the Vacker children are at the top of their class." Keefe flinched at the name, and his dad smirked, like a crueler version of his son. "Despite their criminal eldest brother, they manage to be the best. Given the way you've been going, they might as well reserve a prison cell next to that disgrace just for you."

Sophie gaped. She couldn't help it. Each of this man's words dripped with venom, sharpened like daggers to stab his son where it hurt. She wondered how on earth someone could speak like this to their own child.

"I haven't," Keefe said, his words coated with an equal amount of poison. "I don't see why you can't be happy with the eighty-eight I've given you. It's a good grade. Isn't that what you want, Dad? For your disgrace of a son to finally do something with himself? Well, there you go."

"It's not enough!" Cassius' voice echoed in the empty rink as it rose with each word, before he exhaled, smoothing his hair back. "Hm. Your other art notebook is in the second drawer, correct?" A mockingly innocent look crossed his face.

Keefe shrunk back, the small triumph dancing across his face being replaced with defeat. Before Sophie could stop herself, she had reached down and grabbed his hand. She felt him flinch, and his palm was slick with sweat, but she gripped it tightly. After a moment, he squeezed back, tightening his hold like her hand was a lifeline.

It was the first time they'd ever held hands or really touched like this at all, and Sophie could feel herself relax, just a little. She could feel him relaxing too, though he still looked apprehensive.

Cassius paid them no mind. "That's what I thought. I'll burn it again if I have to, and I'll force you to watch this time." He sighed again, as if he hated to say the awful things pouring from his lips. "I don't know why you fight this, Keefe. I know what's best for you." His father turned his back to them. "I want you back home within the hour. Don't be late."

Even Sophie could hear the threat laced through the words, and Keefe lowered his head as Cassius walked away. The moment the rink door clanged shut behind him, Sophie dropped Keefe's hand and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him.

"Keefe? Keefe, are you okay?"

"Fine, Foster," he said weakly.

"What was that?" she demanded.

"It's nothing." He pulled away. "You heard him. I'd better leave, before it's too late. It's a forty-five minute walk and he wants me back within the hour, so..."

"A forty-five minute walk?" Sophie stopped short. Keefe was already stepping off the ice, and she quickly skated after him. "Hey, wait. My ride gets here soon, and I'm sure my mom won't mind-"

"It's fine, Foster," he said forcefully. "I'm fine."

"You're clearly not-"

He whirled around to face her, and Sophie could see the plain desperation in his eyes. "I'll- I'll see you at school, okay?"

And then he was gone.

Sophie stared at the door, hoping it would open again and he would come back, but he never did.

It felt like something was breaking between them again, like when she had yelled at him, except it felt softer. Like a divide, pushing them away from each other. And she didn't think "sorry" would fix it this time.

She trailed off the ice, distractedly slipping off her skates.

The mystery of Snowflake Boy seemed to finally be unraveling... and it was looking a lot messier than she'd thought.

A/N: Ayyyyy first update of 2021!!! I would have had this up sooner, but after New Year's Eve I was feeling a bit down, and my motivation was nonexistent. So sorry for taking so long :/

Every time I'm forced to write Cassius I want to claw out my brain but he's important to Keefe's character so I push through :')

What's your favorite season(and month)? Mine is Autumn and October! I love spooky season 👻