It's these little things, they can pull you under

It's when they're cutting through Petros Park, the sun setting slowly through the naked trees, that he finally says something.

They could take a cab back and they still might at some point, but for now they're content enough to walk, and with the days so short and him sleeping so late these days, he likes being out in every minute of sunlight he can get, even sunlight that's thin with winter. And maybe he'd hoped that walking would distract him, getting him to stop mulling over things he can't change.

But of course he could never leave well enough alone.

"So," he says, hands in his pockets and his gaze still locked forward. The lights along the path are starting to come on. "You're still back there, huh?"