By: Manna


Fridays for Soren were busy.

He started his day with a glass of water and two tablets of ibuprofen. He knew he'd need them, and he'd long ago stopped waiting for the headache to start before he bothered to take the damn pills.

He brushed his hair, pulled it back into something that was supposed to resemble a ponytail, and made angry faces in the mirror for three minutes. (It involved using a toothbrush to get his teeth clean, but he realized he looked ridiculous.)

He put on his trench coat. He took it off. Every Friday he decided it wasn't worth the hassle of people staring at him like he'd bother to hide a gun in the pockets. The music students never got the same stares, despite the fact that they lugged around saxophone and tuba and cello cases. Soren was fairly certain that it would be easy to hide a semi-automatic rifle in those, but no, trench coats got the suspect treatment, instead.

After he managed to get out the door, he walked to his first class. Some people "got down on Friday", but Fridays granted Soren four happy classes, all his least favorites, all on the same day, all taught by professors he'd consider offing in their sleep. But only if he was paid well for his trouble, because he had a feeling he wouldn't like jail very much, let alone prison.

Somewhere between those four classes he ate a piece of celery or a carrot, crunching loudly. If he felt particularly vindictive he'd crunch-crunch-crunchin the middle of class, earning himself all sorts of interesting expressions from his peers that he might later draw in the margins of his notes. If not, he'd do it while walking to his next class. He tried a bag of Sun Chips, once, as he'd learned from Ilyana the quarter previous that not only were the chips crunchy...the bag of recycled materials was worse. But it drove him insane thirty seconds into the class and he had been forced to take two Excedrin to stop the pain.

Potato chips were a travesty upon the Earth, anyway.

After his last class of the day, Soren managed to find an hour of Quiet Time in the library, where he did his homework and jammed to music that played through his iPod. He refused to tell anyone what it was he was listening to. (Popular speculation assumed Italian opera or Justin Bieber.)

Ike's last class ended at the end of Soren's Quiet Time Hour (he swore it was coincidental), and Soren always tried to meet him afterward. They would then head back to Ike's apartment for whatever horrid, unhealthy food Ike had in his refrigerator, whatever disgusting energy drink might possibly be lurking behind the unhealthy food, and video games.

Ike would spend about thirteen seconds doing his homework, while Soren answered the door and tipped the pizza guy whatever tip was appropriate relative to the service given. (Many times, this meant Soren got to keep his money.)

Then Ike would play Hooloo or Call of Doom or whatever pew-pew-pewy game it was he played every week, and Soren would watch him while eating pizza and solving the mysteries of life by doing his homework. (He felt particularly strange writing a paper on world hunger while eating greasy pizza. He wondered if the professor had questioned his sanity when he saw the sauce stain on the rough draft.)

(By "watching Ike", Soren really just...watched...Ike. He wasn't sure if Ike was even goodat the games he played...or if he ever really won. The faces he made rivaled Soren's own special Toothbrush Faces.)

Sometime in the middle of the night, Ike would do half of another algebra equation, and Soren would yawn and decide to head home. There would be a little discussion, sometimes about Ike's family (which Soren almost—ALMOST—felt something like fond of), sometimes about which was better: aerosol whipped cream or Cool Whip. (Cool Whip was always superior.)

Soren would then return home, take two more ibuprofen, and finish his homework. If he felt so inclined, he would doodle some of the day's interesting expressions in his notes. After that he watched the latest episode of a television show he'd never admit to having seen, and then he'd take a shower, throw on his pajamas, and fall into bed.

Blankly he'd stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, picture Ike's interesting expressions he'd made that evening while pwning n00bs (or being a n00b), and then eventually he'd fall asleep.

Friday would end while Soren slept.

The next day was Saturday. (And the day after that was Sunday.)


Author Notes:

For the "Write My Character" meme that cruised around Livejournal. Soren was "r_amythest's" character.

References to the song Friday were absolutely intentional.