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The air was chilly enough that it kept Zam awake. That was true, at least, even if she was left shivering and tired instead of just the latter. Still, falling asleep at the bar would have been a problem; she was careful not to stay out alone too late, and given how rowdy the bar got as the night drew on, she was right to be anxious about it.
Alcohol only made her more tired, so she really should have seen this coming. She’d barely caught four hours of sleep last night, and then three the night before; deadlines had kept her up into the early hours, and class had forced her out of bed not too long later. Her friends hadn’t known that when inviting her out to celebrate the end of their semester. This was entirely her choice.
She gritted her teeth against the cold and felt them start to chatter slightly. Fantastic. She could add that to the list of negative status effects she was gathering.
Well, she certainly couldn’t stay out here by the door to the bar forever. At some point she’d have to brave the cold, thin leather jacket and all.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forwards and into the night.
*
This time, she could blame her friends a little more.
The first night she’d walked home alone, they hadn't known she didn’t have anyone to go with. Now they did — and they knew her roommates hadn't come with — so it really made them the assholes for leaving her out here.
She set off earlier tonight, not wanting to run into the same issue of getting home late enough that everyone at home was asleep too. This time, she planned to ring one of them to switch on the heating for her when she was five minutes away, so at least she could snuggle up by it to warm up when she’d finally arrived back.
The neon lights of the city glowed around her as she made her way home, illuminating her path in searing pink and yellow. This late, it was bright enough to make the sky look pale blue; this late, it was also bright enough to give her a headache.
As she continued home, the headache throbbed in the forefront of her head. Another status for the list, she thought idly, before shaking her head and wincing at the feeling. She wasn’t so tired this time, but still — she could appreciate the unique spinning her head was doing now that she was both tipsy and had her brain screaming at her.
After a few more minutes of not being able to take her mind off the cold and the ache, she rang her roommates early just to have someone to talk to. Nobody picked up. She left a voicemail, then, trying not to sound too irritated over the phone — convincing people to welcome her home would be so much harder if they thought she was in a bad mood.
There wasn’t much else she could occupy herself with on the way home, after that.
It was a long damn walk.
*
She had to admit that this had been less of a problem before she transitioned. Then, she’d never been nearly as concerned about going to a bar late or walking alone at night — she’d been careful still, sure, but it had been more cursory. These days, she could actually see people looking at her. The threat felt more imminent.
She didn’t regret coming out one bit, nor her transition in how she presented herself some time later. Still, on nights like this, stuck once again in a position she knew she wouldn’t be as uncomfortable with before, the bitterness towards how hard the world had made this for her felt so, so much stronger.
How her friends kept forgetting she needed a lift home, she didn’t know. For the third time in as many weeks, here she was, taking the same route home from the bar, lit up by the city around her and painfully aware of how much of a target she seemed in her red, glinting dress.
The route she took should probably have been familiar by now. Instead, it just felt like an ordeal she already knew would take her far too long. As she traced the path between the glass and metal skeletons of skyscrapers, past the neon signs of shops still open and full of people she couldn’t trust, under the thin, cold bridges of bullet trains shooting through the night — she didn’t really want to do this.
She could have called a cab. She should have, really, but home wasn’t far enough to justify the wait and the cost.
As she began her journey, it struck her how much colder it had gotten in the last week. The temperature had dropped so far she was sure she could see ice forming at the edges of tall windows she passed; she was definitely much more lightly dressed than most people out this late. If she’d brought a thicker coat, she’d have been better prepared now. She’d also have looked dumb at the bar, though, and she’d picked her poison.
Pulling her jacket just a little tighter around herself, she set her eyes on the sidewalk and kept moving.
*
Zam was prepared to go home alone again, already fastening her jacket as much as feasibly possible without looking truly ridiculous, when she realised that she wasn’t alone yet.
“Everything alright?” she asked, hands pausing above the zip.
“Who are you walking with?” Bacon asked. Cutting right to the chase, huh. “It’s, like, two in the morning.”
“I’ve been going alone the past few weeks,” she said. “It’s fine.”
His eyes narrowed just slightly — she’d have missed it if they hadn’t been friends as long as they had. “No, it’s not. My room’s not far from yours, let’s go together.”
As he spoke, he began to unwind his thick scarf from around his neck. He held it out once he’d managed to get it off entirely, and Zam blinked.
“Wear it,” Bacon prompted after a pause, waving it slightly at her. “I’ve got a fluffy coat, I’m plenty warm.”
She really felt she should have refused, but the memory of getting home freezing the past few times she’d had to walk played in her head. She wasn’t doing that again.
“Thank you,” she said instead, and took the offer and the scarf.
Walking home with Bacon was surprisingly pleasant. She’d wondered if it would be awkward, the favour he was granting her here so obvious, though instead he seemed to have taken the opportunity to strike up conversation about how the last semester had been, about classes and which professors had been most abhorrent lately, and about everything in between. If anything, he seemed glad to be walking with someone.
The scarf was warm around her neck, and she felt an odd sort of warmth about the company. By the time she was home, she was almost disappointed the walk had felt so short.
“Really, thank you,” she told him, as he left her at her doorstep and was starting to give his rambling goodbye. “It’s been a great evening.”
“I’m always happy to keep you company,” Bacon shrugged. “We’re friends — you just have to ask.”
He left his scarf with her, as she realised only after he left.
Well, she’d have to take him up on his offer now.