Closed Starter for : @lvciano Location : The Vincelli Mansion Pool Timestamp : Late in the evening, Saturday 27th September 1924
Of all the ideas Nalini Khuranna has ever had, this definitely isn’t her brightest.
She isn’t quite sure how she got here, the time in between leaving Zosia abandoned in the bathroom and stumbling into the deserted pool with a jersey and a journal and an unopened bottle of champagne a complete blur. She doesn’t really know where here is, or how she got there - just that it is a quiet, calm place to collect herself. The more time she spent in the crowd, the more she spiralled, and without the distraction of another set to perform (Tony and his band had been playing when she had ducked out), it was for the best that she remove herself.
What was not for the best was that instead of taking herself home, like a normal, sensible girl would do, she had taken to playing at being a cat-burglar, breaking into her ex’s childhood bedroom, pilfering his things, and bringing them here to this quiet room nobody else had discovered. She perched by the edge of the water, jersey in her lap like a child’s blanket, one hand rifling through the journal. She barely understands it - but that doesn’t matter. She cares more that Luciano’s hand one touched the pages she now trails her fingers over. It’s the closest she’s felt to him in a year. Her other hand is wrapped around the neck of the champagne bottle, occasionally bringing it to her lips to drink, her lipstick staining the rim.
She can hear the sounds of the party distantly - but it is still enough to mask the sounds of oncoming footsteps until they are too close to run from. Nalini curses herself inwardly - being caught somewhere she shouldn’t be is one thing, but being caught clutching the belongings of a man she has no business mooning over is another. She just has time to bundle up the jersey and the journal and dump them in a nearby plant pot when the door flings open, and she blinks at the intruder like a deer caught in the headlights.
She isn’t sure if she is relieved to see that it’s Luciano, or if it’s her worst nightmare. Relieved, because at least with him, she doesn’t have to think of an excuse. A nightmare, because there are so many things she wants to say, a million questions she wants to ask, and a gut-wrenching fear of what his answer will be. She shouldn’t still feel like this after a year, but they’ve been apart for longer before, and that didn’t change how she feels about him, either. Why would this be different?
For a minute, she does nothing but stare. Then, she offers the smallest of smiles, tentative and unsure. “Hi.” She forces herself not to think of all the things she hoped to say when she saw him again. Instead, she apologises. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.” She tries to rise to her feet gracefully, but she’s drank too much and her shoes are too new and she wobbles, throwing one arm to the wall to steady herself. “I’ll go.” she offers, but she doesn’t move. She looks at him, drinking in the way he looks, and under what she’s actually said in offering to leave is another statement she hasn’t, and won’t, say out loud.
Ask me to stay.
