TIME SKIP TO THE DATE AUCTION !
of all the places in the world , the date auction stage cape coral has built , decorated and practically turned into a shrine to the wealthy is the LAST place giuliana wants to be. like a prize farm animal ( or perhaps , more fittingly , a lamb to the slaughter ) , she stands facing a sea of the school’s most judgmental eyes , feeling the uncomfortable burn of the overhead spotlight on her skin. even after a day spent in the nebulous fog of her high blood alcohol content , and with the STERN pre-auction pep talk offered by ophelia song herself , she can feel pressure-induced anxiety slowly ( but surely ) take over her body , little by little. though , truth be told , it’s unclear whether it’s her emotions or the silk lining and boning of her dress that are to blame for her shortness of breath. her gaze descends to meet her mother’s who , for the first time in weeks , looks at her with pride , likely satisfied at the prospect of cape coral turning into a metaphorical BLOODBATH over her firstborn. this , of course , is how you satiate the beast : with a public show of strength , of poise , of superiority. after all , her ancestors across the southern coasts of china and in the many islands that comprise the italian peninsula have fought for her right to wear a custom designer dress , drink expensive champagne and sell herself on a makeshift stage , right ?
the bidding starts and all giuliana can do is look away , ignoring the exorbitant amounts that are being yelled out in connection with her first and last name. the whole ordeal feels horrendously DEGRADING , far beyond even what she drew up in the dark corners of her mind. but , the worst part of it all ? the growing smiles creasing the otherwise immovable porcelain faces of her parents , just as the price for her company soars. it’s a reminder of their conditional love for her , of their need for her to rise to a certain level for them to even deign to recognize her as their own. she begins to zone out , little by little , as dollar amounts increase , sure that she knows how this story begins , occurs and ends. that is , until AXEL’s name is called out , with a dollar amount closely following it.
the pair locks eyes almost instantly , with an ease reminiscent of their days as a couple , and all the words in the WORLD seem to be exchanged in the space of simple glance. for a split second ( or an eternity , for someone as caught up as giuliana is in axel’s gaze ) , they’re alone in the world , without parents , broken relationships or space. they’re giuliana and axel , the couple whom everyone heard wedding bells around as early as high school , who were pegged as SOULMATES from their first official meeting , who people associated with the word forever. she recalls trying out his last name with her first with the ink of a montblanc fountain pen against the pages of her journal. she recalls the thought of rings , bridesmaids , vows , a home , children. just as she’s comfortably settling into the daydream of the future she threw away , she catches her parents’ glares from the corner of her eye , both pointedly directed at axel. it’s not long before he spots them too , and before their looks ( which giuliana knows the effect of all too well ) drive him to swiftly exit the premises , with nothing and no one in tow. she feels herself almost lunge forward , for an instant , ready to stop him from leaving , ready to have him win this auction. but , instead , she freezes in place under the watchful eyes of her parents , and his absence creates room for cape coral’s bidders to resume their RAVENOUS games , higher and higher values associated with the pleasure of her company until a winner emerges from the lot.
her name , spoken in tandem with her newly minted date , echoes out until it becomes nothing but white noise , her focus elsewhere than on the declaration that ryan atwood and his wallet have BOUGHT her ( a low he’s reached because both know that he could never win her ). while cape coral’s lacrosse captain celebrates vulgarly at his table , offering a loud high-five to his father , giuliana replays axel’s exit in her mind over and over , like a broken record. then , with a level of panache all of her fellow auctionees could only ever hope to live up to , she races off the stage , practically racing down each of the steps and the aisle that lead to the school’s garden. EXPERTLY , she kicks off both of her heels , leaving them behind as she sprints across cape coral’s freshly watered lawn , a single goal in mind : catch up to him. with each step he takes , the distance between them grows exponentially and the feat almost seems impossible , no matter how hard she ignores the pain of davina’s hand-sewn pearls digging into her waist. her fingertips stretch out in axel’s direction , like flowers bent towards the sun , every part of her REFUSING to let him slip away. while her lips might not be able to admit aloud , her heart has the courage to admit that she needs him. ❝ axel , ❞ she breathes out , the single syllable barely audible to either of them , her fingers finally grazing the cotton of his shirt.
he spins to face her , every ounce of the pain he’s feeling CLEARLY etched across his features. so clearly that she can physically feel her heart twist in the confines of her chest. as much as she’d rather bury the thought , she’s responsible for what he’s feeling. for the breakup , for its aftermath , for the the space , for the auction , for everything since she pushed the two of them apart. ❝ i’m sorry , ❞ she whispers out , fingers toying with the pearled hem of her skirt ( in an attempt to avoid reaching for his hands ) , ❝ about the auction , about my parents , about the space i’m very clearly not giving you. you … you deserve better than this , better than me. and better than the emotional MINEFIELDS i’m constantly dragging you into. ❞ as her brain guides her , she feels her heart and soul scream out. because the truth , which she’s carefully covering up with claims that she’s no good , is that she loves him. so much that she doesn’t know what to do about it , or where to put those feelings. they aren’t together ( and part of her isn’t sure that they should be , given what her presence in his life does to him ) and she knows that letting him go , for good , is what’s fairest to them both. like her heart , lungs and brain , he’s a part of her , wholeheartedly. a part she’s going to have to learn to live without.
COMING TO THE AUCTION WAS a mistake. a huge, colossal mistake. axel had already been on-edge most of the day, hardly able to pull himself together after his morning breakdown. he felt like a puppet, seeing his limbs move, his hands grasp wine glasses and whiskey glasses alike, but he felt empty inside, and he isn’t PROUD of it. he isn’t proud of the way that something as silly as a kiss could strip him of his feelings, of his personality, of his confidence. of everything that made him axel roy-dreyfus, the artist whose apartment doubled as a amateur therapist’s office, the way people came in and out to see him, to just chat and have a drink. whether he wants to admit it or not, giuliana clemonte is so TIGHTLY interwoven in axel’s matrix of emotions, of his personality, his identity. sometimes, he feels like he’s blazing a trail not just for himself, but to show her parents that he can be successful in untraditional manners. it’s probably about as PETTY as axel gets.
the night goes by in one giant blur, partially because axel is hardly paying attention. he’s buzzed on a couple glasses of wine, still FORCING himself to keep composed, trying to control the aspects of his life he still has a grasp on — even if his fingers feel frail and numb, like he can hardly put a glass to his lips without second-guessing his strength. conversations with friends who seem more BROKEN than he is have left him no choice but to buckle up, to put on a happy, supportive stance when all axel really wants to do is go home, and lie down — but even home doesn’t feel welcome to him anymore. he’s been dodging yousef’s gaze all night, politely excusing himself from conversation if he even looks his way. he supposes he’s being dramatic: yousef is his BEST FRIEND, there’s nothing stopping him from simply going up to him and asking about what happened. he’s not in the wrong, after all. truthfully, axel supposes he’s embarrassed: to resort to crumbling in on himself rather than facing hard conversation. it’s what he had prepared himself to do, his entire time at cape coral — yet with two of his anchors now gone, he feels like a lifeboat, drifting away, further into sea with no real destination. but if he can help his friends: neels, ophelia, arden — if he can help them have better nights, then he can feel like he has PURPOSE again, at least.
the little strength he had garnered from said conversations is fully ERASED when giuliana climbs up on stage, time spent with her being auctioned off. it’s almost laughable — how naive people are to think that time spent with her is quantifiable, how being in her presence, how the ability to make her laugh, to make her smile has a dollar amount attached to it. but she stands there, spotlights illuminating the softness of her skin. it’s clear she’s uncomfortable, that her parents have put her up to this ( the devil on axel’s shoulder TRIES to convince him that she’s doing this to move on, and this might be more public than tinder, but it certainly means she’ll be auctioned off to someone who could SUPPORT her ). the thought bubbles up inside him, igniting an ANGER inside him, and before he can talk himself out of it, he shouts an even higher amount in the air.
STUPID. it’s stupid, it’s reckless, and is not at all giving her the SPACE they had agreed upon. no — in fact, it’s the exact opposite. he’s vying for her time again, like a hopeless puppy, BEGGING for attention again when it’s the last thing that he needs. his voice prompts giuliana to actually pay attention, her eyes searching for his in the crowd, and once they lock, for a moment, axel wants to smile. her eyes used to be the greatest source of COMFORT, he remembers gazing into them as they lay in bed, feeling safe, even without his parents around, feeling loved beyond measure, feeling respected, and adored, and looked up to. feeling like they could take on anything in the world — that is, except her parents. he can feel their icy gaze upon him, and he faces, them, too: mrs. clemonte’s eyes are furious, her lips pressed together in frustration. it doesn’t take him but a second to get the message — and luckily, someone else has saved him from a lifetime of scrutiny by increasing the bid. exit axel — he should know better he’s no longer welcome on stage with the clemonte’s eldest daughter anymore. he isn’t worthy.
it’s a similar scene — one a little too FRESH in his brain for his liking. he feels his feet drag him OUT and AWAY again, perhaps the too literal sense of giving her space. he doesn’t know where he’s going, but he needs to be alone. he doesn’t have the mental, nor the emotional capacity to be a LIFEGUARD for anyone else except himself. save yourself, the angel on his shoulder whispers, one of the only times he thinks of himself before gazing into the eyes of each and every one of his friends before he used to leave a scene, to ensure every one of them would be getting home okay. he wouldn’t have been of any use anyway — the tears that well in his eyes can’t recognize anything except vague shapes and objects. he’s running away from the crowd, almost certain he is far enough to let tears flow freely without EMBARRASSMENT, when he hears her voice. her voice. he doesn’t need to turn around to recognize it, he would remember the sound of her voice in life and death. it’s soft — and axel’s almost scared to turn around, to face the source of all his inner turmoil. the tumultuous sea of emotions he can’t grasp. he’s not ready, not in the slightest.
but her fingers grasp the fabric of his shirt and he turns, knowing wholeheartedly that no matter how hard he TRIES to put distance between them, for the good of both of them, his heart is still tethered to her, and he’ll return back to her, like a boomerang, faster and stronger, and searching for her grasp. his heart physically ACHES, it pains, it calls out to him like he’s drowning, and this time, giuliana isn’t the anchor, she is the STORM. she doesn’t even know that he’s seen her, in the arms of someone else ( even if it was his best friend ) — and even if it feels like an arrow to the chest, he can’t help but replay the look the clemontes flashed him burns like a POISON in his mind, telling him to get out, echoes that ring in his brain until he does.
“ gi, what are you doing out here? ” he asks as he shakes his head, knowing full well she should be back inside, with her family, with the guy who will be her date tomorrow. he refuses to let the tears in his eyes fall, to become evidence of how much PAIN he suffers — he won’t let her feel responsible for it. he forces himself to be numb, instead of sad, instead of heartbroken like he truly feels inside, the pieces of his heart glued together frantically like paper-mâché. “ no — i mean, was absolutely IDIOTIC of me to do that, in there, to bid on you — that’s the fucking opposite of space, and i’m — i’m sorry. i don’t … i don’t know why i did that, ” he says, running frantic fingers through his curls, feeling the chill of the night raise goosebumps under his lightweight shirt. “ i’m just … complicating things and i don’t want to be. your parents, gi — ” he sighs, feeling repercussions build exponentially, the weight of each choice he makes making him feel extremely small and utterly useless. “ — please, just tell them it was just me, okay ? that i’ve been … i dunno, trying to talk to you again, or something — the last thing they need to hear from you is talk about US. ” it absolutely pains him, more than ANYTHING, when all axel had wanted for the longest time was for him to be ACCEPTED by them. tonight has been all but explicit confirmation that they never will, that no matter how well he treated giuliana, he’d never be enough. he’d never be the son-in-law they would picture for their daughter, just as he’d never consider them as parental figures he so desperately longs for, even if he can’t admit it to himself.
“ listen … this SPACE thing … ” he pauses, desperate to look into her eyes and find some sort of sign, but deep down, he knows what’s the best for them, for her. the selfish part of him wants her to interrupt, to tell him that she wants to spend the night at his place again, lips and arms and legs entangled one last time, but nothing comes, and he’s forced to say words that physically PAIN him. “ … it’s … it’s only going to work if we really commit to it. ” he wants to reach out and grab her hands, to rub circles in her forearms to let her know that he’s here, he still cares, more than he could ever explain. “ whoever in there who got so lucky to win you as a date … ” he glances back at the building, the crowd that applauds and laughs and cheers as dates are bought and sold, “ … you need to give him a chance, ” he concludes, his voice is soft and solemn and completely reluctant. he swallows, the back of his throat feeling dry and scratchy from all the NERVE it took him to say that. “ promise me — gi, you … you deserve to be happy, too, and we … we both know that i’m not the answer to that. ”
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