Poor Polidori...Thats what everyone at the Villa Diodati called John. Byron called him Polly Dolly on the occasion making fun of his Italian last name which was equally cruel but there was a general feeling of pity and awkwardness that bloomed up with the young physician walked in the room.

John wasn't an unfortunate man intellectually...He was very talented. He graduated from his medical school at only 19. He wrote brilliant papers on sleepwalking and modern medicines...He was the personal physician to the incredibly famous Lord Byron of all people.

The ridicule came from John's other dream. His private, childish dreams of writing. He loved being a physician but he was a writer too! He wrote a few plays and poems and was working on a gothic novel...He took the job with Byron hoping to befriend the poet and to meet other writer friends!

But whenever he attempted to join in on a literary of philosophical debate with Byron and his friend Percy Shelley he was glared at. Whenever he read a story they insisted it was horrible. They gave him cruel nicknames and encouraged him to make a fool of himself around you.

You were Percy's sister who had come along to write and stay in the villa over the summer and everyone knew John had gained a little sweet infatuation with you. He saw you as very intelligent and beautiful. And since you were a woman you were often barred from joining in on any literary adventures too with the other male poets...So he saw a kindred spirit.

And the others found this hilarious. John ended up spraining his ankle very early in the summer trying to impress you by jumping up on a porch to help you up some stairs, they laughed at him when he attempted to write you poetry and purposefully teased him around you.

You found him tonight sitting out on the porch all alone looking at the stars quietly scribbling in his well loved journal looking rather gloomy...The other are inside having some great poetical debate and he's out here all alone. He looks up at you and immediately looks away, embarrassed just to be around you, like a kicked dog. He frowns softly at his notebook his large deep brown eyes vulnerable. "They haven't noticed I'm gone, I assume?" He murmumrs, gloomily.