𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞; eugene roe ✔

PART TWENTY TWO

Angst <3

Word count; 2,067

Valentina

By the time we reached the dance floor, a new record had been put onto the gramophone. Our hands met, one of his pressed against the back of my waist. With the next bellow of a trumpet, we began. As I stared up at him, he smiled back down gently, a vacancy in his mind. I wanted to spit out so many words, find something to show my gratitude, but didn't want to ruin this moment.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He smirked, hand moving position slightly as we bobbed around the floor.

"Like what?" I blushed, eyes drifting to his collar.

He chuckled, struggling to find the words, "Like there's something on my face."

"No," I dismissed. "I'm only happy."

"You are?"

I nodded.

"I am glad."

"Are you?" I said. "Happy?"

Somewhat reluctantly, he nodded too.

I sought to change the subject quickly, "Did you know this would happen?"

"What?"

"This." I smiled. "The music, the dancing."

He tittered, "Perhaps. And if I did?"

"Then I'd slap you for not warning me." I simpered. "I could've at least worn something better. Done my hair up a bit."

"You look beautiful, Fritz."

I scoffed, "You really think that?"

"Yeah. I do." He said simply, matter-of-fact. "That's what I thought when I first saw you in it. The colour suits you."

"Thank you."

"I mean it."

"Well," I swallowed. "I appreciate the compliment."

"So does that mean I will not be receiving a slap?"

"Be careful, Gene, maybe it does. I haven't decided yet."

"I hope not." He winked, manouvering us so we did not bump into another duo of dancers.

For a while we enjoyed the music, found company in the harmony and ourselves.

"You scared me earlier." I whispered.

His expression hardened, like this was the worst thing I could ever bring to him, more than unconscious friends and slit hands.

"When you were there." I gestured to the bar with my eyes, crossing stares with Martin accidentally. "You had that look in your eye."

The song collapsed and we halted, quite abruptly.

"We don't need to talk about it." I breathed, noticing his tense frame. "I want you to know I'm here."

He smiled briefly, "If you'll excuse me."

He walked around me, my eyes following him as he departed from the room. No-one had realised the rift in our behaviour, everyone chatting and drinking. At least, that was what I thought. When I bit my inner cheek and pivoted, dejected by Eugene's disappearance, my gaze was caught by Martin - he'd never looked away, having observed something I wish he hadn't.

Presently, he was leaning against the counter beside another man, both indulging in a cigarette each and taking pleasure in the atmosphere. Knowing I'd be followed if I didn't make the first move, I approached the two, aware it would also leave no room for speculation.