Come What May

9. picnic

CHAPTER NINE

PICNIC

—

• sunday, march 21st •

Storm is so unbelievably frustrating, it almost hurts.

I wish I could take back everything that I thought about them yesterday, right from the Oh, they're not that bad, to the Oh my God, they're so sweet, because they have absolutely no respect for people's time, and they're so, so late.

Even after texting them last night to let them know that I'll be at the park at exactly two p.m., they aren't here, and it's half an hour past two in the afternoon.

"Storm, oh my God. Where are you?" I hiss into my phone, but all I get from the other line is a snort and a carefree laugh.

"Asif, I'll be there soon. I'm sorry I'm late, even though I fucking told you last night that I have no sense of time," they laugh out into the phone, and I can practically envision the smile that's dancing on their lips right now. "You said two p.m., and I said, very clearly, might I add, I won't be there until three! You should've just come at three, then we wouldn't— I think it's on the left here, yeah, that's it— be in this predicament!"

Blowing out a puff of air, as if that'll help me get rid of my annoyance, I sigh and say, "Okay, well, come quick. Someone came up to me and asked me if I was lost, because of how ridiculous and purposeless I look right now."

Of course, I get another laugh from Storm and a light, airy, "I'm literally here already. If you looked up from the fucking book that you're reading, you'd see me."

I raise my head up, squinting as I see Storm walking towards me, their entire demeanor a complete switch from the previous time we met at the park.

Then, they were all comfort— clothes that were too big on them, no makeup whatsoever, not even the eyeliner that I've grown so accustomed to seeing on their eyes.

Now, however, with their lips a bold shade of brown and their eyes coated in heavy eyeliner, they look exactly the same as the first time I saw them, minus the exhaustion of being awake at midnight.

"See? I'm here, and you're just really wild about this whole being on time thing," they muse as they come towards me, ending the phone call and shoving their phone back into the pocket of their jeans. "But because you look like you want to murder me, I'll say this once— I'm sorry for being late. I warned you, but I'm sorry anyway."

Rolling my eyes, I shove my book back into my bag, the thousand pages instantly making the bag ten times heavier, and I get up from the bench. "Apology not accepted. I got so hungry that I ate a little bit of the food that I brought for you," I mutter.

Storm just laughs and shakes their head, accepting the container of food from me and shoving it in their own bag.

They look a lot less angry today, I realise. Their eyes are a lot less aggravated, more calm than they were yesterday. Even their posture is less tense, more relaxed.

For starters, they aren't gripping their camera as if their life depends on it, a stark contrast to yesterday, they aren't constantly clenching and unclenching their jaw, they aren't even sinking their teeth into their bottom lip, something that I realised they do every time they're pissed.

They did it when I met them at the airport, they did it when we were at the party together, they did it yesterday. But today, they don't do it. All they do with their teeth is flash them in my direction, a bright smile taking over their features, one that looks brighter because of their dark lipstick.