VIOLET SKY, takigawa chris yuu

━ chapter thirty-eight

act iii

life will go on;
together?
no.

chapter thirty-eight

❛if we're confessing things, i have something to tell you, too❜

━━━━━━

Nino's is still buzzing with activity when Chris and Amara take their leave.

"Sure you don't need any help with him?" Tyler asks as she hugs Amara, the 'him' in reference being the . . . very tipsy Chris currently saying goodbye to Tyler's boyfriend, Tom. They're both laughing at something.

"It's alright," she says when Tyler pulls away. "I can deal with him. I'm really just thinking about having him spend the night at my place. I don't feel like driving all the way out to his place."

Tyler nods, glossy lips pursed. "What time are you supposed to pick up Ricky?"

Amara checks the time. "Eleven. We've got plenty time to get back to my place. I'll be fine."

"If you're sure. Seems like you're always having to handle a drunk whenever you come around." Tyler grins, clearly remembering how Amara took care of her a couple weeks ago.

She rolls her eyes. "I guess this is what happens when you're a mom. People just don't know how to act."

She giggles. Chris comes over to say his goodbye, talking maybe a little too loudly and smiling more than he usually does — his usual filter isn't in place. The alcohol has loosened it. Or maybe gotten rid of it entirely. She would see while they went back to her place. Hopefully he wouldn't wake up Ricky . . .

The Toronto night air is freezing in comparison to the stuffy heat inside the restaurant, penetrating the layers of her beige overcoat, the light brown thermal sweater, and the black tank top underneath; a clear indication that it's almost December and it'll only be getting colder.

She shivers, buttoning up her overcoat and tightening the black scarf around her neck. Chris doesn't seem to be affected at all, though he does stumble a bit over a crack in the pavement. Her hand shoots out to his elbow, despite her desperate wish to stick it into the pocket of her coat where hand warmers patiently wait.

He notices her grip. "I'm fine. You don't have to . . ."

"Maybe it's for my benefit." Her breath fogs in the air. "Come on, my car's over there."

He groans, rolling his shoulders. "Can we keep walking? Feels nice."

"It's freezing," she says.

"Yeah." He says it like that's the point. She resists rolling her eyes. Her patience is starting to dwindle already. It's way too cold to be walking around but she isn't strong enough to wrestle him into her car.

She presses her lips together and checks the time. "Fine. Just for another thirty minutes. Come on." She starts walking, pointing up ahead. "There's the park."

He follows her to the end of the block where the stoplight and crosswalk are. She punches the button for the crosswalk. Cars speed up and down the street, clearly not fearing the possibility of black ice. She sort of wishes she had their confidence. Driving in the winter here always makes her anxious.

The stoplight turns red and the crosswalk signal changes. They cross the street. The park is deserted at this time of night. Amara starts them on the path that snakes through it. Chris remains silent beside her, something about it putting her on edge. She can't lie and say she isn't bothered by him being drunk. It's never . . . in general, she doesn't like seeing friends or family drunk. It brings back too many bad memories of her childhood and drunken fathers and tíos. At the same time, well. Chris can do what he wants, can't he? He is his own person, she has no right to . . .