the brunette turns the item around in her hand , reading the name she had yet to pay attention to after the words full access caught all of it . “ teddy swims . not the headliner , but still main stage . good music too , there's that one with giveon … ” her fingers snapped rapidly as if that would help her remember the song name faster . it didn't , and after a few seconds she just gave up , waving the same hand dismissively as if to say the song itself didn't matter . “ free merch , maybe to be in a place the performers pass by so i can ask for a picture , or just say hello . i know zara larsson would stop for one , she seems nice enough . oh , i bet they have better drinks too . ”
none of those reasons sounded compelling, mostly because felix doubts any of it is true. he'd been to enough fancy events on the vip side to know that they usually served the same drinks. yes, there was usually free stuff, but it didn't feel worth it to him. how much free merch touting that he went to this or that event did he need? “ does any of that . . . interest you ? ” he asks, not trying to sound judgmental but undoubtedly coming off as such. he'd schmoozed with enough powerful people to find it more of a burden than a blessing. plus, he was pretty sure zara larsson would stop even without a vip badge. that was just the kind of person she seemed to be.
perpetually single, but that's never once stopped her from strolling down the flower garden despite it's reputation of being a couple spot. there wasn't a single flower she could name, except maybe a rose, but there was still an admiration for the beauty of the arrangements. finger runs over the petals, letting it trail down further until a thorn is pricking skin. pivots, thumb at the center of her lips, catching the drop of blood, ready to move on until her gaze catches onto another. raises an eyebrow at the challenge in his eyes, letting her smirk show as she drops her hand from her mouth. nods, slowly, as if expecting those words from him. she doesn't move away. but she also doesn't move closer. “ you should be careful, ” gestures towards the drink in his hand, condescending when she reminds him, “ you know how you are when you're drunk, right? you remember? ” she did. he couldn't hide his true self from showing.
the drop of blood catches his eye, and for a split second his people-pleasing instincts jump in and he takes a half-step forward, worry dotting his usually steely-eyes before it's gone again in a blink, as if it never happened. why would it? lani is making it clear what she thinks of him, how repulsed she is by the kind of guy he is. what was the point of opening up to her? he lets air fall sharply from his nose, a sarcastic laugh as much as it was a forceful exhale. “ how could i forget ? ” which was the truth. he hadn't forgotten their mess of a date. “ glad to know i'm still on your mind, though. ” because clearly neither had she.
shouldn't have even come here, he realizes too late. it's a couple spot, made obvious by the pairs making googly eyes at each other, if they could even see each other's eyes and didn't already have faces pressed already. god forbid a man want to look at some flowers. he finds a quiet spot soon enough, after much awkward shuffling, and is just about to take a large swig of his dark ‘n’ stormy when he runs into the last person he wants to see. of course, felix laurent is probably the only person who thinks that, considering how much everyone on this island seems to love jahlani swaby, but it's fine being the odd man out. he keeps his gaze on her as he tilts his drink back, practically daring her to leave. when she doesn't, he straightens his back instead, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything too nasty. he finally gets out, “ no date tonight? or did you block them already? ” okay, fine. so he was a little nasty. so be it.
“ do you want some too ? it has spf . ” she asked after finishing applying her chapstick . it was hotter than the devil's ballsack , the sun had yet to set , and the last thing nova would allow was for any parts of her body to end up burning to a crisp . “ not this one , i have like ten sealed mini versions of it in my bag . ” just in case a situation like this came to be . she opened said bag , took out a small box with her brand's logo and handed it to them . “ it's mango . anyway , is it identity fraud to hypothetically wear an artist's staff pass one just found at the food village ? you know , just to see how much access it grants … ”
takes the chapstick wordlessly, because his lips really are dry, but he's much more interested in the less-than-hypothetical posed. he can't lie and say he's not curious, and a part of him is itching to test the theory, but questions must be asked first. “ whose artist pass ? ” because, even if not the most vital, it would have the most consequences. he wouldn't want to steal from pinkpantheress, after all. but perhaps more importantly: “ and what kind of access do you want granted ? ”
𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿, 𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗍𝗈 : @capritownstarters anyone.
⤷ 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : pop up experiences.
leyla's original plan is simple: wander through the festival for an hour, say hello to a few familiar faces, and make it home before her daughter starts wondering where she is. that plan falls apart the moment a little girl shyly asks if she’d help weave a flower crown, insisting, “ you’re much better at it than i am, “ twenty minutes later … leyla somehow finds herself seated cross-legged beneath a canopy of bougainvillea, surrounded by an ever-growing circle of children passing her wildflowers, laughing over crooked crowns, and insisting she model every single creation before anyone else can wear it. by the time she finishes one, another tiny pair of hands is already holding out a fresh bundle of daisies with an impossibly hopeful smile. she laughs as someone carefully places what must be her fifth flower crown of the afternoon atop her dark curls, pretending not to notice she’s become the festival’s unofficial flower queen. looking up from her latest masterpiece, she catches sight of someone watching the wonderfully chaotic scene unfold— and flashes them a grin, “ any chance you’d like to rescue me … or are are you joining them ? “
if you look closely enough, you'll be able to see a fond look forming in the depths of his eagle eyes, usually scanning the room for any signs of trouble but now focused on leyla with kindness. felix envies that, the ability to be effortlessly beloved by everyone you meet, but especially children. children aren't as interested in his facts about the year their favourite ice cream shop was built, which is as kid-friendly as felix gets. “ no, no, ” he insists, still trying to hide a smile. “ don't let me stop you. i'm just here to watch. ” as if to make his point, he sits down next to her, absentmindedly twirling wildflowers between long fingers.
── @capritownstarters
── where: solemare festival
── when: tuesday evening, 7pm;
── who: open to anyone
⋆˚࿔ ୨ 🍂.° ৎ ──── “ are you going to be too upset at me if i suggest going home early? ” she looks happy, excited even. flashing the other her car keys, june raises her eyebrows giddily.
“ you know what they say, once a homebody. always a homebody. ” that was not in fact, what they said. but she didn't mind. she was sick of the beer - piss - firework smell. and the people, of course.
felix laurent exists in the extremes; when he's an introverted mood, you can't get him to leave his bedroom, but when he's already all dressed up and out of the house . . . he keeps a straight face, but you can see his lips jut out ever-so-slightly in disappointment. it's not a pout - felix laurent would never pout - but it has the bare bones of one. “ you don't want to stay for vance joy ? ” he keeps his voice as neutral as possible. so he loves white boy music. so he went to malcolm todd yesterday and is going to noah kahan tomorrow. so sue him.
the secret friend . . . no one knows they're friends, nor would they expect it. felix is too uptight, too proper, too rigid to be friends with this person. and yet here they are.
the happy pill . . . whether it's because they're sick of felix's depression spirals or because they think he has a beautiful smile,
the sorrowful sort ( leyla kaharan ! ) this person is always there to meet felix when he's at his lowest, without fail or judgement. if he ever needs to wallow, they're there with him.
the wingman . . . this person knows the truth: to get over someone, you must get under someone else. they'll help felix with that.
the cyber stockholm syndrome . . . felix has been online friends with this person for what feels like forever. what are the odds they're both here?
the bad influence . . . whatever vice felix wants to tend, this person is already there, making it worse. with friends like these . . .
the drinking buddy . . . they wouldn't be friends sober, but drunk, they seem to be as thick as thieves.
002. romantic.
the first love ( wc on main ! ) the girl he was ready to marry but never got the chance to. the reason he fled to capri and tried to shed the skin of his former self.
the 'you belong with me' . . . this person is so sick of felix being hung up on someone who he isn't with. if only he could see who he really belongs with.
the missing date . . . their friends keep trying to set them up, but they're both a little hesitant. are they good together? are they even ready?
the flirtationship . . . they flirt non-stop, and they both like to say it's for jokes, but maybe it could be real. not that they'd admit it.
003. antagonistic.
the bad cop . . . this person's always trying to catch felix at his worst. they don't believe he deserves what he has, especially with how sloppy he's getting.
the 'doesn't see it' . . . this is their golden boy? they don't understand what makes felix so special.
the rival . . . this is a coworker or academic that manages to live in the world that is crushing felix with unbelievable ease.
the exact opposite . . . this person has never faltered. felix hates them for having the courage to do what he could never.
the firestarter . . . felix can't help but start an argument with this person. they always seem to know how to push his buttons.
the date gone wrong ( jahlani swaby ! ) felix would have apologized already if this person didn't block his number.
004. other.
the pressure . . . the person that reminds him the most of what his mothers mean to him. whether they're maternal or just challenging felix to reach new heights, felix has found a new person he's terrified of letting down.
the puppy . . . the person who truly believes felix knows everything and will follow him to the ends of the earth, when all he wants to do is drown in his sorrows.
the matchmaker . . . this person knows just the right person/path/thing for felix. if only he would let them fix him.
( alex fitzalan, cis male, he/him, zoya’s twin brother ) 𖤓 ⋆˚
what’s the word around felix laurent in capri these days ? don’t look at me like that, you know them — they go by felix, you know, the thirty year old coastal regular. you can probably spot them at casa azzurra, having their blood orange gelato and taking a break from being a historical guide at faro bianco, where people describe them as rigid and calculating, but others swear they’re gentle and loyal if you catch them at the right moment. they fit somewhere between traveller’s notebooks filled with notes on a book they’ll never write , sunwashed photos of a tire swing in your childhood backyard, ghost of a smile at the corner of you lips, and moonlight illuminating only half your face though most people associate them with an engagement ring that’s been buried in his sock drawer for six years.
001. the beginning
you are born with a quiet murmur in your chest and expectations in your lap. it sounds like “ check again, check again! ” and “ he's a strong boy, darling, he'll get through it. ” the murmur eventually goes away but the expectations never do. the fact that you survived such a scare at just minutes old only speaks to your fortitude, your ability to get through everything, whether you liked it or not. how proud your parents must be, that you are able to handle everything life throws at you without faltering. no need to peer behind the curtain, where all you do is falter. you are paralyzed by every decision, knowing that the other shoe must drop eventually. the murmur must come back one way or another.
when you lie awake at night, you still hear it in your ears.
luckily, you were also born with a best friend. unluckily, she doesn't understand the meaning of the word falter. she is built with equal parts surety and poise. when your friend groups held a poker night in high school, it was either you or her walking away with the pot. she always seemed to have the best hand, while no one could tell that you were always bluffing. it wasn't fair of you to resent her for that, but you did, anyway. you loved her more than anyone in the world, but you resented her, too.
you wondered if you could grow out of it, the murmur. were you doomed to repeat history, or could you outrun it? you learned everything you could, then, about your past, about your family's past, about the world's past, just to be safe. you learned everything you could about everything, became a walking history textbook and an amateur sleuth and a novice chess player, while you're at it. mysteries started to become your biggest pet peeve, next to insubordination. you had to know everything, though god forbid you let anyone know.
of course you found out about your biological parents. you never told your best friend. she had enough to deal with.
you went to yale, two hours away from your best friend and the farthest you've ever been from her. you started as a history major, and as far as anyone knows, that's all you graduated with. because when you took your first creative writing class on a lark and fell head over heels in love with the study until you took it as a minor, you didn't feel that was important worth mentioning, either.
when you were writing, it didn't feel like you were running. it felt like you could just live in the moment and the murmur would have to wait. words spilled out from you as easy as blood, routine checkups every six months as per your mother's precaution, but it was doing anything with them that was the hard part. you weren't made to write. you were made to attend parties in a windsor knotted tie and a mona lisa mouth that was neither smiling nor frowning. you were made to follow orders before they were even given, so you never told anyone about your book. except for her.
002. her
she was the first time you felt reckless. you found her when you were doing something you know you shouldn't - smoking, nasty habit, and peering through the host's window at a networking event. you don't usually let your amateur sleuthing get the best of you like this, but if curious killed the cat, you are that cat, and you will not rest until satisfaction brings you back. you see her, and the glint in her eyes makes you half-expect her to tell you off for all your vices, but she just plucks the cigarette out of your grasp and takes a drag with one hand, jimmying open the window latch with the other.
from there, you keep running into her, and she illuminates you, wraps her light around you like the sun does the moon. it was everything to you, everything you never knew you needed. your mothers were thrilled, of course, never doubting your ability to make the right choice, and their belief in you only made you feel more sure of yourself. you bought an engagement ring before a year had even passed. you didn't care that you were young, barely twenty-three. for once, you knew what you wanted. you just needed the right time.
you didn't know, then, that you had already missed it. the engagement ring is still in your favourite pair of socks. you don't have the heart to take it out. your mothers look at you with a certain kind of disappointment you've never seen in their eyes before. maybe it's pity. you don't know what's worse.
003. capri town
you always thought you could be alone until you actually were. your best friend gone, your first love gone, your mother's approvals gone...what else is there? if you were honest with yourself, nothing you could think of.
so you left. quit your museum job and went wherever you could find love. lucky for you, your best friend will always be there, especially when you're calling her drunk in the middle of the night from a connecticut dive bar. she hears the distress in your voice before you do, and you've got a trip to italy booked by the morning.
you never quit your vices, and it's even harder now that you've got nothing but sun and time. smoking, gambling, drinking, snooping...as long as you can answer your mother's facetimes with a straight face then you don't see anything wrong with it. it's clear you're hurting, but no one here has to know that. they do, of course, but they don't have to.
you've added a new vice: casual dating. you've always been a lover boy at heart, but who knows if you were made for love anymore? what if you had it and lost it? now you're back to poker nights, looking into someone's eyes and promising them that you've got what they need, even if it's all bullshit. it's not like you're worth anything to anyone anymore, anyway.
you dream for childish whimsy, for boyish wonder and laughs where you tilt your head back in mirth. you haven't felt that in decades, but you have belief that you can bring it back. you think capri town is the key, but if not, maybe naples is, or the amalfi coast, or glasgow. wherever you have to go to feel like yourself again, you will. you're a strong boy, after all. you'll get through it.
romaincrisis
blakekathryn
theartofmadeline
