𝙹𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳༉‧₊˚. ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʟʟ

𝗼𝗻𝗲.

OCTOBER 12th, 1990
SEATTLE ࿐ྂ

"OH, GREAT."

Delia Kavner sighed as she tossed away the old bic lighter into a nearby bush. She stood outside of Sea Mar Rehabilitation, the straps of her duffel bag uncomfortably digging into her shoulder. She was not dressed for the weather, it having gotten much worse in the ninety days she spent in rehab. She stared hard at the box of newports in her hand, ultimately chucking them into the bush alongside her lighter.

In that moment she decided if she was going to be sober, that included the guilty pleasure that was a box a day of the cheapest cigarettes she could find. She pulled her thin flannel tighter around her body, looking out at the desolate parking lot for her ride. Chris was supposed to pick her up, though he was nowhere to be seen.

Finally, her familiar Toyota pulled into the lot, the speakers turned up to their maximum volume. Chris got out, grinning wildly as he hugged her tightly.

Delia was worried her friends would look at her in a different light once she got out of rehab- but she hadn't included Chris in those thoughts. She could count on him to be the same, through and through.

"Have fun, Del?"

"Oh yeah. It was a real blast." She laughed as he took her duffel from her and stuck it in the backseat.

Chris chuckled. "I bet." He thought about what more to say to her, when she left for rehab, she hadn't told anyone. Just disappeared one day, and he'd gotten a call the next week. Something along the lines of- 'hey, I'm alive.' "Well, you look good."

"You're just trying to apologize for being late, asshole." Delia shook her head sarcastically, making her way around the Hilux to the drivers side. "Keys!" She shouted to Chris.

"Nuh-uh." He walked over to her, blocking the drivers door. "You driving sober is like the average man driving drunk."

"That does not make sense." She scoffed, although his statement had some truth, do to withdrawals, or whatever. She stared at him a few seconds longer, but he just stood there with a satisfied smirk on his face until he hopped into the drivers seat.

Delia flipped through radio stations, trying to find something she liked. Eventually, she just turned it off, deciding silence was better than radio junk. She focused on the road, realizing they were nowhere near her apartment. "Chris."

"Yeah?" He glanced over at her expectantly.

"You do know where my place is right?"

He thought for a moment about what to say. A few people, himself included had gone over to Delia's to clean it up for her when she returned from rehab. They found that the locks were changed and a notice of eviction was placed on the door. So he lied. "Yeah, I mean I thought you might like some food first. I'll pay."

"You're such a sweetheart."

"Always." Chris grinned, though inside he cringed at the thought of telling Delia about her apartment situation.

The pair slid into a booth at Piecoras, Delia drummed her fingers on the table as they waited for their pizza, Chris watched them absentmindedly, finding it funny how much he had missed her chipped nail polish and crowded rings. He thought to himself about how to tell her about the eviction, before he could speak, she did.

"So- what's going on with you?" She rested her head on her hands and looked across the booth to Chris, seemingly lost in thought.

"Me?" Her question drew his attention abruptly away.

"Uh-huh. And the band, Susan, Ellis, I dunno, whatever."

"The bands good, tours over now. We're gonna take a few months off to write and probably record new stuff sometime in spring. Ellis is good too, just worried." She hung onto his words, hazel eyes studying him as she smiled at his good news.

Something about Delia made people in her life feel like the most important and special person whenever they talked or were around her. With Chris it was no different. But she casted people away as easy as she drew them in, though that hadn't ever happened with him in the last five years they'd known each other.

"When you have new songs, you have to play them for me, okay?"

"Of course."

"So what about Susan and the guys? How are they?" Her question was almost shy, as she still secretly felt bad for leaving with no explanation nor phone call- Chris was the only person she'd reached out to.

"The guys are good, Andy's band found this new singer- he's really great." Delia nodded along, happy to hear they were doing good. "Me and Susan broke up a month or so ago." He added quickly, afraid to see how she would react. Delia loved Susan.

Her eyes widened. "Shit, really?" He nodded in response. "I'm gonna miss her."

At this, Chris laughed. "I'm her ex, not you."

"You don't understand, Chris." He laughed more at her serious tone, as if he wasn't the one who'd gotten broken up with.

"Sure, sure." He tried to become serious, "so I went by your place." He stated, leaning closer to her as he spoke.

"And?"

"Your landlords an asshole."

"I know that." Delia shrugged, sipping her water.

Chris grimaced, "and he, uh, put a notice up. Telling you to move out." He finished, glad he'd told her

She slouched down in the booth, letting out a terribly audible sigh. "New beginnings, man." She threw her hands up as if to say 'oh well.'

"Yeah, there you go." He felt relieved at her calm response. "And you can stay with me, until you find a new place." Both Chris and Delia had lived together before, usually always shorter amounts of time. She was a stressful roommate to have- though now that she was sober (and was planning on staying that way, it seemed,) living together no matter how brief, would be much better.

"I was just gonna break in sometime in the night anyways, so thank you." She joked, although real gratefulness shown in her eyes.

"You're welcome."

The pizza arrived, and they finished it quickly, Chris paying like he promised he would. They exited the small restaurant, the sky now totally dark.

The drive to his Capitol Hill apartment was short, Chris let Delia drive this time, as he had a couple too many beers at Piecoras. She hadn't had any.

He was beyond proud of her, though knew she wouldn't want to hear it, so he didn't say anything. There was a part of him that wanted to ask if she would stay sober, as Delia was a user for nearly as long as he'd known her. But he didn't, just wished instead.

They laid on the pull out sofa, Delia surfed through different channels, eventually landing on a random movie. Chris turned to her, thinking of what to say. They'd barely talked about her during their dinner.

"Del?"

"Yeah?" Her eyes were still glued to the TV, though she glanced up to Chris when he spoke.

"What made you check yourself in? You could've told me at first."

She turned the volume down, sitting up a little straighter as she thought. "I went in because I guess, I wasn't in control anymore." She sighed, not exactly wanting to explain herself but knew that her closest friend deserved an explanation. "And I didn't tell you, or anyone because I was... guilty. I'm not sure, maybe ashamed. I dunno if that makes sense."

"It makes sense."

Delia fidgeted with the old blanket with her hands, a nervous habit. She wasn't comfortable at saying what she really felt, and Chris knew this, so he left the conversation at that as she turned the volume back up.

༺✧༻