Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Good friend: Hates it when you call after they've gone to bed.
Best friend: Asks you why you took so long to call.
Jane's pencil scratched against the paper, curving here, shading there. It was late, thirty minutes to midnight, but insomnia had reared its annoying head and she soon found herself sitting up in bed with her sketch pad on her lap – light being thrown off by the lamp on her desk.
Besides, she was waiting for a call. Had been waiting since ten.
As if on cue, her cell began to vibrate, flashing Belle across the screen. She grabbed it from beside her and pressed the green icon, placed it to her ear. "Took you long enough."
"I know, I know," Belle exclaimed on the other end, tone sincerely apologetic. "Sorry, but one of my dad's inventions kind of malfunctioned and . . . well, the aftermath wasn't pretty. I just got through helping him clean up."
Jane chuckled lightly. "I should've known you'd have a valid reason for not calling."
"Obviously, but did you really wait up for me to call?"
"Well, it wouldn't have killed me to not hear your voice, but considering my old pal insomnia decided to pay a visit, I really had no choice."
Belle's voice turned surprisingly sarcastic. "Gee, how touching. And here I thought you were fraught with worry. I could've died, you know."
"And I would've written a eulogy about how great you are," Jane joked.
"Thanks, Jane, really."
"I try," she smirked, glancing down at the sketch – a sketch of her and Belle from earlier that day. They sat on a bench at the park, heads tilted back and mouths opened, laughing and appearing so carefree.
Like they could live forever.