Elio stares at the empty seats beside him, his freckled cheek resting upon his palm as he sits alone at the table, sipping on a glass of red wine. His mother and father are dancing around on the grass, a bittersweet reminder that he's not in a certain American's arms right now. Some song by ABBA is playing, as requested by you and Marzia, who are also dancing around the grass, giggling over the music.

He let out a slow breath, watching you and Marzia with a sharp gaze. He hasn't been the best friend to you, neglecting you for the company of Oliver. He'd feel bad if you didn't seem to care so little, and if he wasn't drowning in his feelings and the tipsy fog clouding up his head. Perhaps he'd forget about it completely if Oliver was actually here, rather than doing whatever he is during the sun's set. Maybe he's hooking up with a girl who's actually his age. The thought is almost as bitter as the wine he swallows back.

He watches Marzia twirl you, and a strange pang of envy hits him. Nothing like seeing a past fling and his best friend dancing together like they're the only ones in the world. He wonders if you'd giggle as much if he were the one spinning you around, dipping you and flashing you his own smile. Would that be in poor taste of him?

He doesn't ponder it much, glancing up as his father calls out to him. Effectively pulled out of his daze, he looks to his parents as they beckon him. "Vieni, Elio," Samuel coaxes, smiling warmly at his son as he waves him over. "Balla con noi, ragazzo mio!"

Elio sinks in his chair, his expression giving his sour mood away. His mother, Annella, softens upon Elio's evident bitterness. She murmurs something to her husband, and the older man looks at Elio with a concerned frown that only makes Elio want to sink into the dirt under his shoes. He huffs out a breath, glaring at his glass of wine before raising it to his lips, only to nearly choke on the gulp as you glance over to him with that damn smile while Marzia dips you. That little wave you flash doesn't help.