The Italians would say... "Mi Dispiace."

[das_vedanya]

WHO: Ivan and Emiliana
WHEN: October 13th, Late Evening
WHERE: A Four-Star Italian Restaurant at the Intersection of Pearl St. And Harbor Ave.
WHAT: It was meant to be an apology for events that transpired two weeks before, but it turns into a melancholy.

Comments

Here's the book, now the saga's begun~♬

[salylimon]

She had almost opted on skipping out on Ivan. She had considered calling him, saying she was busy, sick even, unable to make it to dinner after all.

But a promise was a promise, regardless of the fact that she could have kept him waiting. But that was too cruel. Even for her. Though, being here made her nervous, uncomfortable. In lieu of theire small coffee date some time ago, this was much more...intimate, really.

What was she doing-

Now, however, as the waiter walked her over towards the waiting Russian, Emi briefly considered turning around and making a run for it. Perhaps driving back to Jared's apartment in order to lock herself up in his room for an hour or two. But that wouldn't be fair to the Russian. Not really. Though, the closer they got, the more she began to feel underdressed. Resisting the urge to tug nervously at the sleeves of her jacket, she absently adjusted the headband resting neatly on top her head as the waiter all but abandoned her

[das_vedanya]

He let out a nervous laugh as the two of them mutually took their respected seats, and spent the next several seconds shuffling feet and scooting about the chair to make things ideally less uncomfortable for their already uncomfortable situation. "Nyet, please, this is my apology. It would be meaningless if you had to pay as well, da?" He smoothed out the trouser wrinkles on his knees with a stroke of his palms. Realizing seconds later that he was staring, he reached for the menu and scoured for something that sounded appetizing to a stomach already full of butterflies and moths

[salylimon]

"I still think doing this over coffee would have been better." Better. And perhaps even less awkward and much quicker, really. Now they were stuck here, separated by a small table, crisp white tablecloth, a neat, floral centerpiece, and an unlit candle

[das_vedanya]

He nearly upset the wine glass in his attempt to grab its neck. "Well, it's... I can only imagine how traumatic this is for you." He stared at his ruby red reflection in the thick liquid shivering down the sides of his wine glass, then brought it to his lips and downed the last ounce - frowned, and wished the waiter had left the bottle

[salylimon]

She watched as he finished with the serving of wine he had been given, almost tempted to offer her own, but if she wanted to get through this, Emi figured that a little wine would help ease this tension she was feeling.

If anything, she could walk home.

Another sip and she stared at Ivan from over the rim of her wine glass. "Traumatic?" She repeated softly. "Maybe. But I'm perfectly fine, so you don't need to worry. Or go to such lengths," A vague gesture to the surroundings. "In order to apologize to me or make amends, Ivan." At the arrival of their waiter, she fell silent, strained and false smile once again gracing her lips as she nodded in thanks to the other man.

That smile, however, fell as soon as he spoke.

"I, no, we're just..." Emi paused, unsure. "We're just friends." But the waiter didn't seem to hear her stuttered protest. Instead, he continued about their table, muttering something about 'dates' and 'anniversary's' before he waltzed off to attend to another table.

Dios.

[das_vedanya]

Suddenly the faux Italian man looked more foreign than his bleach blond hair could oblige, as Emiliana's words seemed to sound like English to an Italian man. Ivan followed the pitiful creature with his eyes and hoped that his corneas were burning holes into the back of his shirt.

When he turned back, it was as if he'd forgotten everything of their previous conversation; as if she had just sat down and the last thing they said to each other was an exchange of greetings.

"We probably could've gotten out of that three years ago." He smiled to his glass of wine, but did not take a sip - only let the alcohol paint his lips.

[salylimon]

Emi remained quiet for a moment, eyes lowering to stare at the centerpiece between them before looking back up at Ivan. "Had we ever gone to a place like this, you mean." She finally responded, wine glass settled in front of her once more.

"But that was then and this is now. Though I'm surprised you even brought it up," she said, fingers tapping against the table lightly. "I thought we came to some sort of unspoken truce about never speaking about us, seeing as, well, you know." She waved her hand vaguely, eyes still trained on Ivan.

[das_vedanya]

"...seeing as we could barely call it dating?" he finished, smoothing out the napkin in his lap only to pick at it to surface more wrinkles. He smiled distantly, suddenly and painfully aware of his unconscious reasoning behind the need to bring Emiliana sunflowers as an apology. Actually, he owed her this apology long before his pipe first met John's skull.

'Emiliana, you're beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you, but it's unfair for me to keep them from that if I don't feel as attracted to you as I should.' She brought sunflowers then, too.

"I'm not sure if we ever had a chance."

[salylimon]

"Basically," Emi said with a small scoff, hand sliding down to absently pick at the sunflowers laying beside her. "I'm surprised you still remember how pretty I think sunflowers are, though." Her fingertip traced the shape of a petal before she settled her hand on top of her lap, fingers curling into the hem of her blazer briefly before relaxing.

Her gaze flickered upward, temporarily transfixed with the way the dim lighting bounced from the nearby chandeliers, its reflection fluttering about the ceiling before she stared at Ivan with a small, albeit blank, grin.

"I really don't think we did," she agreed, glass of wine back against her lips once more.

[das_vedanya]

"Well, it's quite the adoration we share," he said as-a-matter-of-factly. His fingers curled around the napkin as if it were the petals of the sunflower itself, delicately placed in his lap instead of nudged against the untouched basket of break sticks. He reached for his wineglass again, but upon seeing Emi's pressed to her lips, he thought it best to leave his be. Instead, he occupied a second's time with a sigh.

"My fault," he commented idly, finger tracing circles in the wet stain on the table cloth where he water once stood.

[salylimon]

"...Actually, remember how, before, I used to go on about stories of how my family thought sunflowers came from Mexico? Well, it was proven, ah, a few months after we...broke up." Another vague wave of her hand, even as her eyes lit up briefly as she spoke. "Though, you probably already knew that," Another sip and memories of her rushing from class to visit Ivan at his shop flashed before her, followed shortly by one of her leaning against the counter, no doubt talking his ear off even as he took it all with stride.

Interesting...

Brow furrowing slightly, she looked him over with a frown. "Your fault? Your fault for what?"

[das_vedanya]

He wanted to tell Emi that no, in fact he did not know that sunflowers originated from Mexico. Alfred told him ridiculous stories about the plant coming from somewhere in Kansas, and how acres upon acres of land were dedicated solely to that plant where it could bloom all year, where the snow of Russia wouldn't swarm the petals and cause the stem to break under pressure. Alfred could not appreciate the golden color of the petals that matched his hair as Emi appreciated the seeds that matched hers.

"Being who I am and leading you astray when I shouldn't have..."

[salylimon]

Distantly, she could make out the sounds of what was most likely their waiter approaching their table once more. But, at this moment, Emi's sole attention was focused on Ivan and only Ivan before she leaned back in her chair slightly.

"You didn't lead me astray, Ivan. I kind of noticed something was...different. And, well, what happened didn't really hurt. Not as much as what happened after we stopped talking. I-" She broke off briefly. "I really don't know why that happened, actually. Why we stopped talking..."

[das_vedanya]

He barely registered the steam now rising from his Chicken Alfredo before him. As a faceless hand deposited two plates before the respected customers, Ivan found himself getting trapped between the rising steam of Emi's dish and her eyes.

"Customs?" Ivan guessed, awkwardly rubbing his forearm as he felt the butterflies fill his stomach and make him lose his appetite. "Customarily, it seems, couples don't talk to each other after that."

[salylimon]

"I've heard of special cases," Emi supplied with a small smile and a barely there lift of her shoulders. "But I guess that wasn't us." Her fingers splayed out on top of the white tablecloth, fingertips pressing firmly against the wood resting beneath it.

"Though, you shouldn't beat yourself up about it. I mean, at least I had you before life decided to, ah, get really chaotic." She stared down at her food, wondering if maybe she should start eating before it got cold, though she couldn't help but glance at Ivan from beneath long lashes. "I didn't think we'd be here for you to apologize about that, though. Was the thing about John just a clever ruse to get me here?" She asked, voice light, playful even, but still with a hint of teasing bite.

[das_vedanya]

"Haha, nyet," he waved his hand at her, feeling an ounce of the tension lift along with his laughter. "You see, I... I sincerely thought for a while that John was the one responsible for--" but Ivan broke off, plucking his fork from the tablecloth and stabbing it through the heart of the chicken breast. "--for what happened to Alfred."