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Meg stared at the frosty Chicago sidewalk. Cold. Cracked. Gray.


Gray.


How could a color so dull convince her to be so radiant? How could such a medium tone provoke such extreme changes? Even better, why had the last 2 weeks of her life been the best 2 weeks she'd ever known?


Well, duh. The answer was as clear as glass, but it made no sense, revealed no logic, just the same.


From her seat at Kennedy, Meg looked up at the sky. Despite the cold, the sun was doing it's best to shed a little light. Meg hoped that its shine would allow a little bit of clarity as well. Just as a cloud was making it's way over the sun, pulling away it's warmth, she felt two knocks on the table. She took once last glance at the sky before she turned to see who was responsible for the knocking. Sky: gray. She looked over. Patrick...


How Ironic.


"Hi." Patrick smiled and Meg motioned at the seat across from her. He sat.


"How are you?" She signed. Patrick laughed then shook his head. Left, right, left. Meg continued to watch closely as he brought his pointer finger and thumb to the brim of his hat, adjusting it. She signed. "Why are you laughing at me?"


He watched her hands carefully. After two weeks of sleepless night spent studying his How-to's, he was almost able to completely communicate with Meg, minus spoken word. The only problem was his inability to sign. Patrick could, but his ability to understand the language was much stronger than his ability to convey it.


"I'm laughing because you asked me how I'm doing." She sipped her coffee, making a face as she returned it to it's spot on the table.


"That's hilarious. I can totally see why that would make you laugh so hard. It's actually a pretty uncommon phrase.." He grabbed her hands, making her stop.

"Talk to me Meg. You haven't talked to me since my ass was handed to me at the studio...by you. Thanks, again, by the way." Meg shook her head.


"For some reason, I felt pretty brave, or at least that's what I'm claiming, on that particular day. Obviously since I handed you your ass. But now I'm back to the regular me, and I let people handle their asses on their own. Now, how are you?" His thumbs were drumming obnoxiously on the table.


"Meg, I think small talk is something you and I are way beyond, considering all this talk of asses." Meg was getting annoyed.


"Good grief. Can I not just ask how the fuck you're doing?" Jesus, she couldn't correctly accomplish conversation with Patrick today, it seemed. He looked at her.


" 'How the fuck' makes us sound like better friends. So if you're asking how the fuck I'm doing, I'm doing the fuck fine." She just stared at him, his own mind questioning his last sentence.

"That makes no sense." He made a face at her hands. She rolled her eyes. "You know what I said."

"I'm pretending I don't. Meg simply smiled and sipped her latte. Caramel. Pumpkin was bad luck. As she set the cup down, making sure to connect it with the little ring of condensation it had created, she looked up at the clock.


"I thought Pete was coming." Patrick turned at looked at the same clock Meg had.


"I think he's with Alex or something." Meg's eyes widened.


"Mal's going to be pissed.

"She'll be stupid for it. Alex is Pete's cousin. Besides, Mal and Pete are just friends, and they fight all the goddamn time." Meg nodded.

"Well, I didn't know they were cousins, so obviously I'm sorry about that. And Mal likes Pete, and he's not necessarily acting like that's how he doesn't feel as well, so I'm just saying. She'd be pissed...if Alex were Pete's hot new girlfriend. Patrick looked out the window.


"They fight because they can make up." Meg watched his lips, her eyes widening again.

"What?" He nodded.


"You know what I mean. Don't even act like you know anything or Pete throws me out a window." Meg laughed and shook her head.

"Apparently he'll be too busy fucking my best friend." He nodded.

"Well, keep it on the down low for the sake of your best friend." She laughed.


"I'm not real worried about her either. She's too busy fucking yours." He laughed, as the familiar chime of the opening door was heard...by Patrick.

Mal and Pete walked in, fighting about...who knows. I don't, and I'm in charge of this damn fucking story. Who cares. They're probably doing it right now...what am I doing? I owe you a story...so, anyway...

"Take it back, Peter, or I'll go all medieval on your ass." He scoffed.


"I don't even know what that means. I've got nothing to be afraid of." She made a face.

"Well, at least I know I've always got you beat with brainpower." He shook his head.

"You shouldn't be so sure about that." She looked at him.


"What was that about Russia and Japan?" Pete looked at Patrick, and Patrick looked at the floor. Meg slowly stirred her latte, not particularly caring about the reason for this fight that would end in explicit sex.


"Why, dude? Why would you tell her." He shook his head.

"I didn't tell Mal, really." Pete nodded.

"You told Meg. Good. I'm the resident dumb ass. Patrick shrugged.


"That's sort of a name you made for yourself without my help." Pete looked at him, and then nodded.

"Yeah. Pretty much." Mal kicked him from underneath the table.


"Pretty much." He flipped her off and looked over at Meg.


"Hey, pretty." She smiled.


"Hey, prettier." Patrick laughed. She was hilarious. Pete grabbed Mal's ear, persuading her to come with him for the sake of ordering coffee.

"What's up with them? Really. She would tell me if there was anything brewing beyond friendship, and so far it hasn't been mentioned." He watched her. Her brown eyes concerned as she signed the questions regarding her best friend. He looked over at Mal and Pete, standing in a moderately long line behind the counter, and grabbed Meg's hand, taking her outside.

"What are we doing out here." He looked up. She did the same. He cupped her face in his hand, and pointed at his lips.


"Do you promise me that what I'm about to tell you will not offend you or make you run away?" Meg looked him in the eye.

"First, tell me why we're out here." Patrick looked at the ground then back at Meg, and pulled her face to his own, gently, kissing her.


He pulled away and looked at her. She didn't move. Her face stayed blank, and her eyes, wide.


He kissed her. The boy she'd been fighting to let inside her brain just kissed her.

And she'd just lost the fight. He was staring, searching for a response. She could walk away. The sensible move would be to walk away, just like he'd tried two weeks prior, but she fought to have him then, and now, she did. His eyes were still searching, so she pulled him to her, and smiled, before she covered his lips with her own.


Mal looked out the window, and grabbed Pete's scarf, causing him to cough up his Chai.


"What the fuck, Mal. I'd like to continue breathing, if you don't mind." She slapped him on the cheek, and pointed out the window.

"Patrick and Meg are kissing." Mal nodded. He nodded.

"Let's play that game too." She looked at him, and walked away.


"Not happening." He shrugged, and sat down.