elio perlman was in a mood, a stupor. the summer had gone from an idyllic italian respite to an emotional turmoil that he slowly, but surely, had to work through. typically he would busy himself transcribing music, mozart perhaps, but this evening he wasn't allowed such a privilege of solitude, because a party was being hosted at the estate.

the perlman's summer home had become a common social location for the youths from and around crema. so with the singing, dancing, and vibrant chatter, he was somewhat forced to put on the veneer of enjoyment, while many questions plagued his mind; mostly based on his waning feelings for his tryst with marzia, his growing feelings for a 24-year-old american bastard, oliver, and whatever in hell was going on with you.

it was exhausting.

"tu veux danser avec nous, elio?" marzia asked him, as he leaned against the wall, watching the coloured glass lamps that another young adult had brought along.

"no grazie." he replied dryly, a bit too blunt, and taking a drag of his cigarette as he watched her go join some friends. sighing ruefully under his breath, he tipped his head back against the wall, exhaling smoke into the air.

of course you had to come over soon after, to find out what he was doing alone and assuage your worries, as if he were some depressed puppy. his brows furrowed in your direction, tearing his eyes off where oliver was dancing with chiara. "hm? yeah, i'm fine." he muttered, looking away.

"you worry too much, maybe i'm just tired, today. forse." he added, letting the hand with the cigarette drop idly to hang by his side as his gaze focused back on what had caught his attention; the american, rather than you, as if pining or lamenting.