Author's Notes: Whew! exhales Glad you liked it. I was worried that feedback would be more like "Umm...okay (ew!)". Teeheehee. Maybe I worry too much.
Anyway, here's the next chapter. I'm sorry it's kind of short, but the next one will be a lot longer. As always, enjoy, and be sure to leave a review!
When Elaine woke up, the first thing she saw was the thin and ragged ceiling. For a moment, she just stared at it, mind empty of all thought. And then, she remembered.
Oh my God...
She looked to her left, on the other side of the bed, but Scipio wasn't there. The realisation of this hit her like a baseball bat. Something sunk down to her stomach, and she could almost feel her heart shattering into a million pieces.
Uneasily, Elaine reached under her bed, and, after rummaging around for a few moments, found her clothes, which had been clumsily discarded the night before. She quickly put them on and sat up, looking around the room. Hornet was fast asleep in her bed; when Elaine's eyes paused on her for a moment, she rolled over and mumbled something to herself.
Elaine felt a lump in her throat and hot tears at the back of her eyes. In order to distract herself from the emotional collapse that was sure to come, she combed her hair and decided to go for a short walk. Maybe the fresh air will help me out, she thought.
After quietly tiptoeing out of the room so as to not wake Hornet, Elaine went down the stairs, walked across the theatre, and opened the door. The morning breeze suddenly hit her face and she closed the door behind her. Then she walked away from the Stella and around Venice.
It was still quite early, so there wasn't very many people out and about. Barely any of them noticed her as she passed, besides two women in very expensive-looking clothes who started to whisper together at the sight of her and a group of men about her age who called out perverted comments when she walked by. She ignored them and continued on her way, though she wasn't really going anywhere.
It was surprising that she didn't trip or bump into anyone, she was so lost in thought. Everywhere she turned, she only thought of Scipio, and her heart ached. Why had he left? Where had he gone that was more important than she was? And, worst of all, had she just been a one-night stand? Had their relationship just led up to this? Was it all over?
A single tear rolled down her cheek as these questions to herself and Elaine sighed, her lower lip trembling. She was now in a rich neighborhood: tall houses with many floors towered over her, neatly-kept lawns were on each side of her, and all in all, it was obvious that anyone who lived here lived a life of luxury.
They didn't have all the problems she had, Elaine thought, as another tear escaped from her eyes and splashed down on her shirt. They had money and proper homes and everything they ever wanted. Not like herself.
And, as Elaine turned around and started to head back to the Stella, tears now streaming down her face, she could have no idea that, just mere yards from where she was, that someone else was just as unhappy as she was.
Scipio was pacing.
Outside of his window, the sun was still rising, bathing Venice in a warm yellow glow. For a moment, he stopped to look at it, but a second later, was pacing around his room again.
He felt like such an idiot. He should have never, never kissed Elaine. Never. It was all just a big mistake, as he was realising now, and Elaine was probably awake and angry with him.
Why had he done all of that? He didn't need to. His teenage hormones had just taken control and now Elaine surely hated him for leaving. He couldn't help it; if his father had woken up and found that he was not in his room, or anywhere in the house at all...Well, he didn't like to think about what he would have done. But even so, leaving Elaine hadn't quite been the wisest thing to do.
Scipio felt ashamed. Ashamed and angry. He was ashamed for getting Elaine and himself into this whole big mess in the first place, and angry at himself for hurting the one person who had been there for him the most.
He was thankful that no one else in the house was awake yet, in his room and tidying, or telling him that his father wanted him downstairs for breakfast. If they had been, they would have easily noticed the tears glittering in his dark eyes.