JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Thin Air

Chapter Thirty-Five: Dark Red (Part I)

The two young men were strolling through the huge corridors of the Galleria Umberto I. To say that this shopping complex was huge was an understatement, and this made it somewhat troubling for these two boys, one of whom was British, the other who was American, and neither of whom could speak Italian. Having to pull out their phones, type phrases into Google Translate, present them to an Italian who offered to help them, and then wait for the same process to be returned to them by the Italian, it was a massive headache. Yet, the two boys had somehow been able to buy a few bags full of merchandise to take back home.

"That necklace, Bryson," Clapton said, peering into the other boy's bag. "Who's that for?"

"It's for my mom," Bryson replied, as the two continued walking. "She's... had a rough couple of years, you know.  So I decided to use my first paycheck to get her this little gift. She was really happy when she found out I got this job at the Foundation, and I know she'll be even happier if I give this to her. She deserves to be happy." 

"That's really thoughtful of you. I grew up without a mum, so I think I'd do the same if mines was still around."

"I'm really sorry to hear that, man." Bryson said with sincerity.

"Oh, it's fine. I don't really have any memories of her, so it never affected me. And besides, that means I can get double the stuff for my da!" Clapton said, chuckling.

"Da? What, or, who is that?" Bryson asked.

"It's the Irish word for dad, pretty much. My da's from Ireland."

"I just call my dad, well, dad. Depends on what memory starts playing in my head. Sometimes, I like to think that DAD stands for Deadbeat Asshole Douchebag" Bryson said, laughing hard. Clapton started to laugh as well, despite not really understanding it.

"Well, regardless of what your parents are like, you're still a pretty cool guy I must say." Clapton said.

"Right back at 'ya." Bryson said with a smile.

The two were just about to make a turn and leave the gallery, but then, something caught Clapton's eye.

"I suppose that's a makeup shop over there, eh, Bryson?" Clapton said, pointing at a shop with flashy signs.

"I guess it is," Bryson said. "Why? You wanna get something from there?"

"Um... er... yeah..." Clapton said, his voice getting noticeably softer.

"You got a sister, or an aunt? I'm pretty damn sure your dad isn't interested in a gift of that sort."

"Well... um... I'm an only child... and I'm not really close to any of my parent's sisters, so..." Clapton said, his voice getting jittery.

"Someone you got in mind?"

Clapton turned his face away from Bryson's view so that he couldn't read him. This didn't make much of a difference. In fact, it probably only made Clapton look worse.

"Come on, dude, you can tell me. You know what, I'll guess. This special person of yours... is it... hmm... Monica?"

"I'd much rather stick a cactus branch up my arse than think of that girl in any way more than a friend." Clapton said.

"We are of one mind. So, that rules out half of the possibilities, so you have just one more."

Clapton looked back again at Bryson. His face was deep red, and tried to say her name, but he just couldn't bring himself to let the word leave his tongue.

"It's alright, man. I know who you're talking about. Might I make a suggestion?"

"W-What?" Clapton asked, his jitteriness wavering slightly.