Grande Suicide- Ariana Grande fic

Chapter Two

I caught Ariana crying that evening, wrapped up like a burrito in bed wearing pyjama pants and a vest top, instead of doing her usual routine of night time swimming in our pool. Although there were around five spare rooms in the mansion, we had the option to have separate ones: but even now we shared the biggest one. It just seemed....more sisterly, or something. I ran up to her and wrapped my arm gently around her shoulders.

"Hey," I said softly. "Don't cry."

She sniffled and carefully pulled the cover away from her head, revealing her running mascara and smudged lipstick.

"I'm s-so sor-r-ry ab-bout earlier." She managed to say through tears, her voice jerky. I lay down next to her.

"Don't worry about it," I smiled. "Tell me everything."

"D-don't ask," She wipes her nose, sits up and rests her head on the wall. "I'm sure it will pass."

"Okay," I reply, almost in a whisper. "How about I grab us some popcorn and we watch some chick flicks?"

"What about Mean Girls?"

"Of course. I'll go and find the DVDs downstairs, and we can watch it in the Cinema Room."

"Thankyou." Ari smiles and gives me a hug, then I jog downstairs, meeting Mom in the living room.

"Hi honey." She cradled a cup of hot chocolate, with her favourite soaps playing on the TV.

"Hi, Mom."

"How's everything?"

"Good. Awesome, in fact. Ari and I were going to watch some films in the Cinema Room. Have we got any popcorn left?"

"Yes, in the first cupboard in the kitchen. Have fun."

"Thankyou: we will."

I hurry off into the kitchen and pour a concoction of popcorn into a sectioned tray: sweet, salty, toffee, chocolate. Mmm. I hunted down Mean Girls, and found it in the cupboard underneath the stairs. Sliding it into the Blu-Ray player, I called Ariana. She came down almost immediately: beaming, her hair loose, makeup removed: it was almost like she hadn't been crying at all.

"Yum, toffee," She took a handful and jumped onto the sofa, next to me. "This is nice." She smiled.

"It reminds me of when were kids, watching endless rounds of Disney movies. And we always had to change into the dress that the princess wore in the film."

"Yeah. Hey, ironically it's a Wednesday. Luckily we were off school today. Should we wear pink?"

"Why not?"

We giggle, and run upstairs. We return overly-pink: wigs, miniskirts, tank tops, high heels. Ariana looked amazing as always. The outfit made me look even chubbier. Stop obsessing over your flipping weight, I think to myself aggressively. You're with your sister, for God's sake. She won't judge you.

And she didn't. After we'd finished our "Mean-Marathon" as we called it, we discovered an old favourite hidden beneath some horror films.

"The Little Mermaid," Ariana breathed. "Wow."

"Memory overload or what?"

Ariana laughed. We were like our old selves again: younger, more care-free, only worried about things like what doll to pick in the store.

I leant my head on Ariana's shoulder, and together we watched films until midnight, not caring that we'd have to go to school the next day.

"I wish it was always like this, Ariana." I whispered.

"Same." She replied.