Storm.

Part Five

Once she was done sobbing, Meg rubbed a soothing hand down her back, and smiled sadly. "What's in the past is in the past. Talk to me, Ari." And so the pair walked down to the coffee shop on the high street. It wasn't too far, about a five-minute walk, so the awkwardness wasn't completely unbearable. When they arrived, Ariadne made sure they got a corner table, secluded from the rest, with two comfy leather seats. The girls sat down, coffees in hand, and proceeded to look at each other, neither one willing to speak first. Their heavy pasts weren't all that easy to look past, after all.

Finally, Ariadne sighed. For once in her life, she'd caved first. "So..." Her words tailed off into the air between them, sucked into the void that their tumultuous history had created. "So..." Meg repeated in an unintentional mimicking of Ariadne's behaviour. Suddenly, the other girl put down her mug and sat up straight. "I'm really sorry, Meg. And I know words are worthless, and actions mean everything, but I promise I'll make it up to you, I'll -" Meg cut her off, wincing at the painful reminder of all that had happened between them. "I...really don't want to talk about it. But I appreciate what you're saying, I do. And besides, why would I have come to grab a coffee with you, if I didn't want to start over?" Abruptly, the void between them disappeared. It was going to reappear again in the future, that was for sure. But for now? It had closed up, allowing the pair a chance at a civil conversation. "Anyways, I know how much he meant to you. Vico was..."

"Amazing." Ariadne finished, picking up the mug again in time for a tear to drop into the coffee, lost in the milky swirls. "He was too good for this world, and now he's gone. Gone. How can he be gone, Meg? How?" A bone-chilling cry sounded from her throat, and Meg made apologetic faces at the people nearby who were unfortunate enough to have been witness to Ariadne's heart-wrenching sobs. "I love him. I lovedhim. I never told him that, Meg. Never." Hunched over the mug of coffee, as though the latte was her one and only lifeline, Ariadne continued to cry, unable to hold back her overwhelming sadness, despite her usually stoic external appearance.

Meg brushed a strand of silky, chin-length, ebony hair behind her ear, biting her full lower lip, unsure of whether or not she should attempt to talk about Vico more, or whether a subject change was necessary. She was entirely unskilled in comforting grieving people, and was beginning to wonder if this whole thing had been a bad idea. She narrowed her slender eyes as she looked at the girl sat – if you could even call it that – opposite her, finally showing emotion after years of perfect composure. Ariadne had always been a slave to perfection. With darker, toffee-coloured skin, and hair that could only be described as a dark fawn, close to chestnut colour, she had always seemed too good for this world. She had an African mother and French father, and had thus grown up in a multicultural household, and was fluent in French. She was tall, and all-around slim. Slender from the shoulders to the hips, with a narrow waist, and toned legs, she looked like a supermodel, and had always been aware of her beauty.

Meg, on the other hand, had spent her life in dear old Ari's shadow. Both literally and figuratively. Meg was also beautiful, but not in the supermodel-esque fashion Ari was. Meg was of Chinese and Irish descent, and naturally had wavy black hair, light brown eyes, and a magnetic personality. Her charisma was her greatest asset, as well as her full lips. However, as open as Meg was, Ariadne was the opposite. Meg never tried to hide her emotions, but Ariadne saw emotion as weakness.

So with Ariadne weeping in front of her, it was understandable that Meg was completely and utterly lost. She had never had to deal with this before. How did you comfort Ariadne? The girl with no weaknesses or flaws? The girl with the perfect grades, the perfect face, and the perfect body? The girl who had never in her life, even by mistake, displayed any sign of being 'less than'? But as Meg was now learning, perfection comes at a price.