the doorman bows

“No, it’s–” Maybe it was. He wanted to be the one to let go rather than be the one to being let go of.  His work clicked against the porcelain of his plate as he set it down to free his hand. “I don’t want you to. This is me giving you an out — San Marino was never England and things are falling apart.” He was falling apart. Did she really need all this baggage after the year she had had? “I don’t want you to stick around, end up dissatisfied and then realize you wasted time on me.” Each passing day it felt like he was losing every race against Giovanni — did Ennio really compare to the future king of Italy? Natalia’s face still fell each time there was a reminder of her relationship with Gio. How would it feel when Ennio became his bitch? “I don’t think I’d handle it very well.” Was this much better? No, but it gave him some control over the circumstances.

“Call Nat the next time, she’ll give the phone to me. She’s honestly being so supportive, she even let’s me check my email from time to time.” He scratched the rough start of a beard on his chin and blankly stared at the white wall far in front of him. “Right, right... my decision. I love having power over this.” The last few meetings they had held had been done almost completely in silence. No one had wanted to say it aloud: they had ran out of options. “Sweeten the deal, Gio. Give us a bit more and you have a deal. I won’t even go behind your back and talk to your aunt about this. You’ll get all the glory.”

Ennio almost would have preferred Art to hold onto the bottle. It would have kept the bottle from finding Ennio’s lips. Either Art did not know or he did not care. Either option was perfectly fine with Ennio. He had missed the taste, the rich velvety taste of red wine that lit up every neuron on his tongue. He had expected guilt to ruin the flavour but he couldn’t have been more wrong. “Maybe I were,” Ennio agreed lightly before another generous sip. He did not know how to be around people anymore. People had used to flock to him, his smile had been a permanent accessory and his laugh a loyal companion — now they were rarely around and he did not know where to find them. “Ha! I agree. I fear soon these events will stop having meat. Meat’s not hip and cool enough. Wonder when sober curiousness takes over too.” It might have kept the bottle out of Ennio’s hand.

“I’ve been meaning to, uh, talk to you about something.” His knife was refusing to cut through the steak on his plate. It was as if it could sense the weakness in him. Fear had taken over him on the previous two occasions he had tried to bring up the subject. “Things are not looking too good San Marino and I, well, we’re going to make a deal with the Italians. Or at least we’re hoping to.” His eyes were directed at the steak, far away from Natalia’s blue ones. “I think you better leave me now and not later.” He had never compared much to the likes of Giovanni, and once San Marino submitted to the whims of the Italians, whatever he might have had to offer, would disappear in an instant. [ @nataliademarquis​ ]

Ennio hesitated momentarily before handling him the bottle. “It’s still full.” A blessing or a curse? “Mingling with her friends. I felt like the third wheel,” Ennio admitted with a shy smile. He had tried to find Isabela, failed, and then found the bar. Arturio was an unexpected twist. “What are you taking a break from?”

Ennio arched a brow at Giovanni the first time the man spoke. Giovanni had made starting arguments into an art form. The subtle digs that his words were littered with were so easy to miss but when they landed, they made surprising amount of damage. “I only asked the Northeners because I know what people in the south think. ” And it was not whatever the fuck Giovanni was trying to convince them of. “What a people’s prince you are... ” Was the point to make Ennio look like an idiot? or just poor? “Just because you eat with golden cutlery off the finest china, doesn’t mean everyone else has abandoned tradition.” Staples did not disappear. there was a reason why they had solidified their place in the first place and a subtle change in attitudes was not enough to cause a shift. “But if we’re listing things that we were looking forward to, I was somewhat hoping they would have mixed some Indian food into the mix. Dill, pepper and salt are what they are,” Ennio mused with a light laugh.

His smile made a brief appearance on his lips. It was just a reaction. It did not reach his eyes nor make him feel less worried. He wanted to disagree, tell her that it wasn’t so. She was mistaken, he knew better. Instead he simply sat there and paid attention to the even rhythm of his own breathing. He had never before found himself in a similar situation. Long fingers cautiously wrapped around her hand and for a moment that was the only form of communication he could offer her. Words slowly formed a string, sentences began to develop. “If that’s true... Let’s say you deserved it.” His voice was quiet and his words came out of his mouth slowly. “Let’s say there’s some grand power that exists to pass judgment and gives out punishments.” His hand held hers more firmly. “If that is true, then it has to be true too that you have paid the price and been forgiven. If you deserved it, you deserve to move on after suffering your punishment too.” 

“I’ll start hating you when you start stealing my duvet. I’m a fairly understanding man.” It was deeply relieving to realize that he was able to offer her some comfort. He oftentimes found himself doubting the depth of her feelings — was she still around because she couldn’t go anywhere else? Because he was the least bad option? Natalia kept her feelings to herself, held her head up so bravely, and seemed like she didn’t really need him. Sometimes he felt like he barely knew her. Like she didn’t want to tell him things. Yet, here she was. Resting her head on his shoulder, speaking words that were so heavy that even he felt their weight. “You’re not being fair to yourself.” It was the first thought that really came to him, it also felt like the right thing to say. Honest and comforting. “Your father is the one who has to carry the responsibility. You’re no more guilty than the French princess. She has stood behind her brother this whole time — and they’ve been fighting for nothing. You... your fight was about your birthright. You can’t go thinking you’re the reason why there was a civil war.”

“Don’t apologise. You have no reason to apologise,” he murmured into her hair. If he was not careful, if he let his self-control slip, his tears would surely wet her hair. He felt like he had stopped breathing. All the worry he had held for her for four days was finally beginning to loosen its tight grip on him. “All of your stuff is here. The new place is nice. It’s– it’s... nice.” Their living quarters were such an insignificant thing, he felt silly for wasting time describing them. His hand brushed hers and he was going to take it into his but realized how cold she felt. He quickly shrugged off his jacked and draped it over her shoulders. “Art? He...” Ennio frowned. The half-brother had not even crossed his mind. He had spent the four days locked up in Val and Ettore’s room being of no use. “I’m sure he’s waiting for you. I didn’t... I’m sorry I didn’t realize you’d want him here.”