“You should tell Jeremy you’re sorry there.”
Sergio’s frown deepens, his lips pulling down farther, and he wonders how his faux pas is still so fresh on Henry’s mind. After all, to Sergio, it was two days ago. But, he supposes, if nobody seems to remember yesterday, his incident with Jeremy only happened last night. And if apologizing to Jeremy is all it will take for everyone to be on the same page, or God help him, the same day, he can suck up his pride—what’s left of it at this point—and utter the magic words before the clock strikes twelve.
At the party—filled with the same revelers as before, the same who’s who of winter sports mingling with the who’s who of hangers-on and sponsorships, all glad-handing each other like this is the first time they’ve ever met—Sergio watches from where he’s perched once again at the bar. He’d be bored if he weren’t so frustrated.
The rest of his day carried on the same as the morning, with everyone acting like Sergio was losing his shit. The effect of which has Sergio really wanting to lose his shit. Instead, he’s opted for drowning himself in whiskey, hoping that at some point he’ll get the chance to do what Henry suggested earlier and apologize to Jeremy for his insensitivity. But what insensitivity is he meant to apologize for? His blunder in assuming Jeremy had too much to drink instead of a neurological disorder, or his punch to Chadwick Levinson’s nose in Jeremy’s honor, that nobody seems to remember. Reasonably, he figures it’s the former as he watches Jeremy work the room with Rose while Chadwick, completely lacking any evidence of having been punched, works Allison into his good graces in a nearby corner.
“What’s wrong?” Adrien asks him. “You’re not still upset about earlier, are you?”
“No,” Sergio says, and this time he means it. It seems his brother's quitting is an inevitable fact he’s going to have to accept. He finishes what’s left of his drink in one large gulp.
“Then what are you moping about?” Adrien asks and orders another whiskey from the bartender for Sergio, as well as a gin and tonic for himself.
“I’m not moping,” Sergio grumbles.
“You kind of are,” Adrien says, and pauses. He looks at Sergio with his head tilted slightly to the side in thought. “I get it, though. It’s been a rough twenty-four hours.”
With his gaze back on Jeremy, Sergio blindly grabs his drink from the bartender and takes a sip. “You don’t even know the half of it.”
“This isn’t easy for me either, you know?” Adrien says, sipping his drink as well. Sergio can feel his brother’s eyes boring a hole into his temple. “It’s not a decision I came to lightly.”
“I’m sure it’s not.” Sergio brushes him off. He may have accepted Adrien’s resignation, but that doesn’t mean he’s in the mood to hear his reasoning. Especially when that reasoning is likely Daphne.
“Daphne and I—”
“Adrien, please. Not tonight.”
“Alright,” Adrien says with a light pat on Sergio’s shoulder. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“If there even is a tomorrow.” Sergio goes back to his grumbling.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Adrien. Go have fun.” He grabs his drink and walks away from his brother. He pauses his steps once he reaches the center of the room and debates which way to go. Allison is trying to catch his eye with a slight lift of her hand and a pleading raise of her right eyebrow, as if to say, ‘Please get me away from this blowhard.’ He could go that route and help her, but he’d wind up ending tonight in much the same manner as he did the night before. His other option is to cut straight to Jeremy, who’s being slowly pushed out of the conversation going on with Rose and the gathered sports reporters. The reporters have all but muscled him out of their circle. Looking to heed Henry’s advice, Sergio begins to make a beeline, albeit a slightly stumbling one reminiscent of a bumblebee and less a productiveand determined worker bee gathering pollen, to where Jeremy is standing with his feet shuffling awkwardly as he tries to re-ingratiate himself into the conversation. A pang of something that resembles pity hits Sergio in the chest, stiffening the area around his heart. It’s uncomfortable to watch Jeremy get shunned by the same people who followed him around like he was a god four years ago.
“Listen, Jeremy,” he says as he approaches him. “Can I talk to you?”
“This isn’t really a great time,” Jeremy says, gesturing at the nearby reporters.
“It’s alright, Jeremy,” one reporter says. “We’re done with you.”
“Oh, alright then,” Jeremy says and turns to Sergio, looking dejected. “I guess now is a fine time.”
Sergio winces internally, feeling that after that, this is absolutely not the right time to bring up his own callous misstep regarding Jeremy. But forge on, he will in his desperation to lighten this awful feeling of sinking he has in his chest. “Look,” he starts with as they begin to walk away from the reporters and Rose. “About the other night.”
“You mean last night?” Jeremy’s lips press together. He eyes Sergio up and down, and Sergio can’t help but notice how tired Jeremy looks. There’s something in his eyes, a harshness that says he wishes he were anywhere but here right now. Not only talking to Sergio, but at this party.
“Yeah, last night.” Sergio agrees. He offers him a soft smile, hoping to warm Jeremy in his favor before he continues. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.” Jeremy sighs. “I’m pretty used to it by now.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to offend.”
“You didn’t.”
“I kind of think I did,” Sergio presses on. “And I didn’t mean to.”
“Nobody evermeansto,” Jeremy says, carefully making his way through the crowd with Sergio keeping step beside him. Each of his steps is deliberate, and Sergio suppresses the urge to grab onto Jeremy’s elbow to keep him steady and lead him somewhere quieter and less crowded. But Jeremy seems to have his own determined destination in mind.
