Violet is reading. Not in the library - it's packed at this time of year, and too loud. It amazes her, sometimes, that anyone gets any studying done around here.
She has opted for studying in the cafeteria, if only because she can have her lunch while she reads. (As opposed to the library, where you get Looks from the library technicians if you so much as bring a bottle of water in with you).
A number of books are lying about around her, clearly spelling "Don't even think about it!" to anyone looking to share her table while they eat. The last thing she needs is someone else's food mucking up her textbooks.

Keye does not say hello. He clears his throat, and does not sit down. He stands uncomfortably, holding a styrofoam bowl of what is almost definitely soup (probably). His mouth has an odd, worried, sideways tilt to it. He's fidgeting, jittering one of his legs and rapping his fingers against the styrofoam.

Vi ignores him - not on purpose, by the way, she just needs to finish a sentence - for a moment before looking up.
"Hi." There is no accompanying smile.
She dog-ears the current page of her book, and moves some of the other books to one side, to make room. She then nods to a vacant chair - well, don't just stand there, Keye. Have a seat.

He sits, still clutching his styrofoam cup of whatever. His teeth clamp together, and he stares at Violet, wishing she could understand it all by his sleepless face.
She can't, of course. She isn't a mind reader. So he needs to open his mouth. He needs to unlock his teeth and tell her how sorry he is.
He should open his mouth and say something.

He looks down at the tabletob, silent.

Violet looks at him, waiting for him to speak.
...Nothing?
Hm.

"It's customary to say 'hello' in reply," she suggests, not unkindly.

He flinches and manages to unglue his jaw long enough to mumble "H'lo."
He's sorry, he's sorry, can't you see how sorry he is?
He's afraid, really, that he's already lost her; he doesn't want to put himself out there if he has.

She gives a small nod to affirm that she's heard him, as she's looking down at her textbook again and sliding a fingertip down one of the margins, making it appear as if she's reading.
He came over to her and not vice-versa, therefore it is his job to start the conversation.
Hmph.

"Violet..."
Don't do that, don't turn away and read.
"I--um. I...please look at me?"

Violet folds her book over her hand, her index finger holding her place on the page. She lifts her head and looks expectantly at him - Okay, I'm looking at you. Now what?

...He looks tired.

He always looks tired, though. It's nothing new.

He takes a deep breath, flattening his hands over the tabletop, pressing down hard to stop the tremor for a moment.
"I, um..." she doesn't look as if she's going to help him out with this. Why should she? Well, nothing for it, then. "I j-just wanted to s-say I'm...sorry f-for being an ass and upsetting you."
And then he shuts his eyes.

She sighs, quietly.

"..It's okay."
She doesn't sound very convincing, but it's a start. Considering that she can hold grudges over the smallest things, it's a very good start.

"Violet. Please."
Don't dismiss me.
"Listen. Y-you've been way too good a friend to me. you never did anything t-to deserve me treating you that way--that was all m-me, and I'm s-sorry. I'd be s-some kinda idiot to j-just leave it at that, s-so here I am..."
He isn't actually certain where he was going with that.

Vi looks back at her book, flipping pages without even pretending to read them.
"I was just trying to help," she mutters sullenly. She's still a bit hurt over that. "Trying to get you to get help."
And he refused to even consider it.

He smiles, a pathetically miserable mockery of a happy expression.
"Y'know, hearin' your friend say you need professional mental help isn't exactly the greatest feelin' ever." True or not. "But yeah. I...Violet, they scare me, and I got s-scared, I didn't realize. And you gave me that l-look. B-but you know, I w-went and I talked to your...that J-jonas guy, and he said it s-sounded like you were w-worried, so I...I realized. I was acting like a real asshole. I didn't mean to, but I was. I didn't...Vi, I didn't mean to beat up on you over tryin' to help me, I should never do that. I'm s-sorry."

"...I know." She doesn't look up. "It's okay."
He knows why she was upset, and he's sorry for making her upset, and it's okay.
But she holds grudges, you know. To remind herself not to be stupid enough to let her feelings be hurt again.

He nods, laughing (you know, that little soft almost-hissing laugh that's as much to avoid crying as anything), stands up.
"Well, uh...I'll talk t--see--"
Bending slightly at the waist, he picks up his styrofoam thingy.
"I'll go now."

He wants to go punch a brick wall or something.
(It's a bad habit)

"Why?"
He hasn't even eaten his lunch (assuming that's what's in the styrofoam bowl, of course).
"Where d'you think you're going?"

"Away," he says too-quietly, his back to her, hunched. He's stopped moving, though.

"Why?" Violet asks again. "Class?"
She looks up from her book.
"Because if not, you might as well stay." She isn't smiling, yet there's somehow a smile in her voice. She'll be nice, see? She doesn't want him going away upset.

He turns back.
"I don't have class."
So he sits down again.

He doesn't want her upset.

"Then stay. Have lunch with me."
(Her own lunch, a grilled cheese sandwich, sits cold and forgotten, hidden by a small stack of binders.)
"Or talk. Or whatever."

"Okay."
He's quite timid.
"I, um...you're studying?"
Well, he doesn't know what to say, or where to start.

"Uh - a little, yeah."
She flips her book closed. It's rude to read when someone talking to you.
"How did you find Jonas? Did you run into him by accident or something?"

"No, I looked him up."
Shrug. He wasn't hard to find.
"He seems like a cool guy."

"Yeah, he--"
And now, time for puzzlement.
"Why did you do that?"

"Wanted to make sure he wasn't some kinda creep, or nothin' like that." he sips at his soup, blinking as steam blows into his eyes. His tongue is numb from coffee scalding by now, so he doesn't mind the heat much in his mouth.

"Oh."
Her first thought is, 'That was nice of him.'
Her second is 'Isn't it kind of creepy, though?'
Her third is, 'No. It's nice. Shut up.'
"...Thank you."

"Oh." Blink. "No problem, I guess. I think he's okay. Nice and all."
Gave Keye a glass of water and talked to him. He finds these sorts of small things incredible.

"Glad you think so."
She thought Jonas was okay, too. It wouldn't have been terribly cheering to have Keye dislike him, think he was creepy, et cetera.
"Was he surprised to see you? I mean, he didn't think I sent you, did he?"
She hates to have people think she doesn't trust them - unless she doesn't trust them, in which case she lets them know.

"No, no." he shook his head. "He said I wasn't your boyfriend, so who was I, older brother type or what? I said we knew each other."
He wasn't sure, at the time, whether they were still friends.

"Oh." Did he think it was odd?
She doesn't ask.
It was a nice gesture - she'll leave it at that.

The pause hangs for almost a full minute.
"We are friends, right?"

"W- of course we are."
They just had a fight, that's all. That doesn't stop them being friends - it would take far more than that.

"Oh. Good." the relief is audible on his face, and he sags slightly, as if the tension had been the only thing really holding him up.
Thank goodness.

"What, did you think we weren't?"
One fight, and a relatively small one at that, isn't worth throwing away a friendship.

"I w-wasn't sure."
He hoped that was the case, but he didn't have enough confidence to be sure.

"Well, I... was angry with you, but not that angry."
She manages to force a smirk.
"You'd have to do much worse than yell at me to make me stop being your friend. I wouldn't drop you that easily."

"Oh." His voice wobbles a bit. "Th-thank you."

And now, a smile. A faint one, but it's real.
"Don't take it so hard next time."
She reaches over and pats his hand.
"We can have fights and still be friends."

"I d..."
Deep breaths, Keye.
He's on the verge of a breakdown, you know.
"I d-don't w...w-want there to b-be a n-n-next time."