Pantalone
Pantalone stared at the drink swirling in his cup. The loud music of the town echoed throughout the square, but he didn’t care much for it. One of his coworkers had dragged him out of his office, telling him he needed to have fun for once.
Pantalone rolled his eyes. Things needed to be done and papers needed to be signed. There was no time for meaningless activities that he wouldn’t be participating in anyway.
He looked up from his cup, looking at the people dancing in the square. He had to admit the musicians were very talented, even when very drunk. There were lights strung up between the buildings, and drinks being passed out. The town was buzzing with energy, giving off a comforting energy Pantalone had grown to know. A calming cool breeze came in from the sea, bringing the smell of salt with it.
He took a deep breath, breathing in the cool, crisp air. It had rained earlier that day, and there was still water on the stone paved roads, leaving a pretty shimmer from the reflection of the lights.
Pantalone took a swing from his drink, before setting it down on the table. He debated joining the people who were dancing but eventually decided against it. He had rationalized it in his brain due to not wanting to scuff his shoes or dirty his cloak, but he knew the real reason.
He simply didn’t have a partner to dance with. He could’ve danced by himself, but he wasn’t sure his pride could take that blow. He could’ve also asked a random person, but Pantalone was waiting for a specific someone.
He scoffed at his foolish thinking. He wasn’t sure why he was saving a dance for that idiot. The one who ran away with his heart in favor of his crew. The one who left him crying on the docks.
Oh how he hated him and his stupid smile. His easy words, his serene voice.
Although, as he stared at the people dancing, he did have a pang in his heart, one of longing.
Pantalone quickly squashed that feeling and downed the rest of his drink, slamming the cup down on the table so hard it cracked the handle. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
“My my,” a voice from behind says. “You seem irritated,”
Speak of the devil. He knew as soon as he saw The Styx sail into the harbor, it was only enough time before he popped up. Pantalone stood up, and started to walk away. He didn’t want to deal with this.
“You don’t get to talk to me,” he said, trying to muster as much venom in his voice as he could. He heard footsteps follow him, and Pantalone scowled at whoever had the misfortune of getting in his way.
“Aw, don’t say you haven’t missed me,” the voice said. Pantalone wanted to scream at him. How he hadn’t missed him and he should’ve stayed away, how he should’ve stayed with his crew he supposedly loved so much, but he couldn’t. He did miss him. Pantalone missed him everyday he was gone.
“Well, Dottore,” he says, spinning around to face the red eyed man. “You don’t get to abandon me on the docks because you care about your crew more than me,” he said with a scowl.
He expected to be met with some sort of irritation or annoyance, but all he saw was the same easy smile he had grown to love and to hate.
“You know I had to leave,” he says, wrapping his arm around Pantalone’s shoulders. Pantalone shoved his arm off, and continued to walk.
“Oh of course. What was it you said? I’m replaceable?” Pantalone rolled his eyes, feeling the tears returning, but he quickly wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. He heard Dottore sigh, before walking to catch up with him.
“You know I’ll always put my crew first,” he paused, and scanned the crowd before continuing.
“Look at them. Would you abandon them for someone you met six months prior?” Pantalone looked to where he was gesturing. Dottore was pointing to one of the musicians, who was clearly drunk, but was still playing his guitar very well. He was wearing the most obnoxious hat Pantalone had ever seen, but he had to admit he looked like he was having the time of his life.
The girl next to him was leaning against her cane for support, but was dancing along to the music the boy with the hat was playing.
Pantalone rolled his eyes, and turned away from them.
“You don’t even like them. I’ve heard you complain for hours about how ‘incompetent’ and ‘idiotic’ they are. What’s with the newly found affection?” He said, letting go of his hand.
Dottore sighed again.
“They are incompetent, they are idiotic, and I do hate them, but they are the only ones I have,”
Dottore grabbed Pantalone’s hand, in an attempt to get him to stay.
“Forgive me,”
Pantalone paused. It was almost a laughable moment. Dottore, one of the most feared pirates on the seas, apologizing.
Pantalone tilted his head to the side, but stayed silent.
“I’m sorry for abandoning you, I realize I should’ve given you more of a warning before I left,”
Pantalone rolled his eyes, but nodded. It was a half thought out apology, and Pantalone could never get over the heartbreak he felt that day. He could never forget the days sobbing over the man who he loved. Who saw him at his lowest, who heard his secrets.
“Then prove it to me, Dottore. Prove to me that you truly are sorry, and not going to repeat the same mistakes,” Dottore stared at him, still holding his hand.
“Well…” he said, trailing off, staring at his crew. “I can’t promise I won’t leave again. I will. My heart is the sea and it’s where I will always return,”
Pantalone scoffed. There it was. He can offer apologies, but never promise to make it better.
“However,” Dottore continued. “You could join me,”
Pantalone stared at him. Join him? He’d admit, it sounded like a pleasing idea. Being with the man he loved till his last breath, with the wind of the sea on his back. However, the rest of his crew didn’t seem to like him much, and he didn’t want to disrupt the balance of the ship.
Dottore looked at him expectedly. Pantalone knew that he expected him to say yes, and he desperately wanted to.
“Mhm. Let me think about it,” He didn’t want to forgive him quite yet, let alone uproot his entire life for him, but he would like to join him. Pantalone always had liked the sea. He joined the navy as a young man for that exact reason. Dottore sighed, but extended his hand anyway, putting on his easy smile.
“Well then. I’ll let you think about it, but in the meantime, would you like to meet the crew?”
Pantalone extended his own hand, and accepted it. He almost laughed at the formal request, but he kept his face blank as Dottore dragged him person to person, introducing each other.
Dottore finally dragged him to the two who he pointed out earlier, Pantalone’s head was already full of faces and names to memorize. He knew he had to memorize everyone’s name if he wanted to join the crew, but judging by the looks on some of their faces, he would need to do more than know their name for them to trust them.
“Sandrone!” Dottore called to the lady with the cane. She stopped dancing, and turned to face them smiling. She limped over to them, and dragged the boy with the hat over with her.
As Pantalone approached the duo, he could hear the boy with the hat complain about being taken away from the stage.
“Mhm. Odd,” Dottore mused. Pantalone looked at him inquisitively, so he explained. “Normally he doesn’t complain about being dragged away from the stage,”
Pantalone shrugged, but he could see that the guy with the hat loved the attention. He saw the look in his eyes up on that stage as people applauded his singing. He saw the way his eyes lit up as he realized he finished a song without any mistakes. He related to the boy with the hate. Living for the spotlight, never wanted the attention off of them.
“He writes his own songs too. Maybe if you get close enough to him he’ll sing some for you,” Dottore says, while the girl, Sandrone, is still trying to drag him away from the spotlight.
“Have you heard any of his songs?”
“HA. No. Scaramouche would throw me overboard if he could,”
Sandrone finally dragged him over, and extended her hand. Pantalone took her hand and shook it, smiling at her. Sandrone smiled back, but the guy with the hat, Scaramouche, looked him up and down. He smelled of alcohol, but he seemed of age to drink, so Pantalone didn’t judge him.
Pantalone extended his hand to shake his hand, but Scaramouche yanked his hand out of his reach.
“So, you are the man our lovely co-captain has been talking non stop about,” he says, slinging his guitar over his shoulder. Pantalone looked up at Dottore, and while he turned away, he could see his face was red.
Scaramouche snorted, but let the issue rest. Sandrone rolled her eyes, before shoving him back towards the stage.
“Go play your heart out Scara,”
Pantalone and Sandrone waved at him as he ran back towards the stage, his confident persona coming back.
Dottore rolled his eyes, muttering something about ‘that idiot’ under his breath.
Sandrone laughed, and flicked him on the shoulder lightly.
“Go have fun with your…,” she looked Pantalone up and down. “…Friend. I’ll stay here and watch the others,”
Dottore nodded as she walked off, but Pantalone scoffed, and turned to walk away.
“I’ve met your crew, and they seem like lovely people, but I don’t forgive you. You don’t get to swoop in with your pretty smile and swoop me off my feet whenever you want,”
He started to walk back to where he was sitting, ignoring the smile on Dottore’s face. He squinted against the glare of the lights against the puddles of water, and grabbed another drink from the bar on his way there. Dottore didn’t say anything, but Pantalone knew that he followed.
“I know you apologized, and I’m grateful for it, but you need to prove to me you are sorry,” Pantalone looked him in the eye, looking from any kind of resistance, but Dottore just shrugged.
“If you insist. You’ll know where to find me,” he gives Pantalone a nod and strides off to join his crew. Pantalone rolled his eyes and sat down, his rings knocking into the metal framing of the chair. He nodded in acknowledgment to his coworker, but faced back towards the square and the people dancing.
He looked at Dottore and his crew, watching Sandrone dance with a girl in a deep purple dress. Columbina, if he remembered correctly. He had to admit, it did look like fun. He wanted to join them, and to dance with the man he loved, but he wasn’t about to let Dottore break his heart all over again.
He took another swing from his cup and shook his head.
He’d be damned if he let him win that easily.