La Luna Pallida

ii.

ii. the melancholic boy.

You fiddled with the keys on your chain; a new one for the hotel room, one for your house back home, one for your locker at work, one for your safe, one for your bike back home and another one for your bicycle lock here, you had hired one earlier today. It was getting quite loud to carry around.

You limited options. Dance with strangers and possibly make new friends, go back to the hotel or go for a walk. Your black and red Casio wristwatch read, 9.03pm, which meant you pretty much had the whole night to yourself.

You finished the glass of wine you had and stood up, saying goodbye to the older couple you had been sat by. The sound of your feet scraping over the cobble walkway made you relax. The music faded away, along with the smell of alcohol and smoke, as you left to find your bike.

Unlocking it and getting on, you began slowly cycling, you hadn't worked out where to yet but the night was still warm and you weren't yet tired so you had no intentions of stopping. Counting it as exercise, or something like that.

Passing by closed bakery's and sweet little houses you found yourself almost smiling. Nothing meant anything and you felt good, technically no responsibilities, no work, no relationships. Simply nothing.

The low hum of a live band came from a bar, you peaked in through the window. There was someone, a beautiful girl, singing.

Along with a group of people clapping and playing instruments around her. A few others were dotted around the room, laughing, smoking, talking.

The atmosphere seemed good and there was bound to be a toilet, you were in need of one after the two glasses (three if you count the half glass you had in your flat over dinner).

Resting your bike against the light orange coloured brick wall you rubbed your arms and entered through the already open door. The smell of alcohol and smokes was prominent, once again, as you looked for a friendly face.

In the far corner sat a boy, he must've been around your age, maybe a year older or younger. Short brown curly hair and green eyes, he looked content, yet conflicted. Summer had just begun and he looked as if it were leaving to go home from a divorce settlement.

He wore a plain blue polo shirt and blue jean shorts with some vans or something of the sort. Attractive to say the least.

Making your way around the small crowd, who were so immersed in the spirit of singing together they haven't even noticed you.

The boy was looking at a large mural on the wall, deep in thought. It was of a woman and two men. You stood at the tables edge, pressing your palms together you spoke up.

"Scusi", you spoke up quietly, "Mi dispiace", you cringed, suddenly nervous, "Ciao, buonasera".
(Excuse me, sorry. hi, good evening)

The boy looked towards you, turning slightly when he saw you. His green eyes looked you up down, not in distaste but in a curious way, as if to ask 'why would you bother speaking to me?'.

"Ciao", he replied nonchalantly, his gaze drifting to your hands which were placed behind your back.

"Dov'è bagno?", you asked.
(Where is the toilet?)

He motioned to the door behind him, it was white and had a hand-painted sign of a picture of a large open flower on it. Interesting. The men's was adjacent to it had had a weird looking squash on it.

What a place you had stumbled upon. You turned back to him with a crooked smile, "Grazie".

The melancholic boy waved his hand and looked back to the painting, mumbling, "Prego".
(You're welcome)

You washed your hands before opening up your backpack and reapplying your marron lipstick. The singing had already started back up and they were now on their third song since you'd entered the bar.

Heading out you noticed the sad boy was still sitting there, looking at the painting. Only this time he was lighting a cigarette.

You watched as he exhaled smoke predominately from his nose? He sighed, flicking the butt into the almost bare ashtray.

"Posso?",you asked him, you wanted to sit with him and try to cheer him up for some reason.
(Can I?)

He looked up for a second and contemplated, "Si", he nodded and took another pull of his cigarette.

Pulling a chair out from next to him, you chose not to sit across to from him to avoid any awkward eye contact.

You sat in silence for a while, you'd taken your notepad and pen out and started scribbling down all your thoughts, song lyrics, flowers, whatever came to mind. It wasn't uneasy at all surprising, it was sort of comfortable actually.

A fly landed on your paper and you quickly flicked your hand, gently getting it out of your way.

"Elio", the boy spoke up, he leaned back in his chair with his arms resting behind his head, "Come ti chiami?"
(What's your name?)

A small, hardly noticeable, smile broke out
on your face as you looked over at him.

"Y/N", you simply told him.

He smirked a little as he noticed your accent and decided to test the waters, "Come va?".
(How's it going?)

___
Authors note
Haven't spell checked this or anything yet just wanted to get it posted since I've done shorter chapters for this book.

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