Gaspard had been home for a couple of days and had kept his phone off and his floo locked and had basically hidden in his flat. He had finally run out of alcohol and so had ventured, Friday night, down to V-Bar for a stiff drink. He hadn't eaten. He'd hidden in the corner of the bar and ignored the happy crowds gathering for Karaoke and late dinner. When the next singer started, though, he looked up from his brooding.
Eleanor - his Eleanor - looking lovely and lost, stood on the stage and sang a song that he was sure was written just to make his heart break.
He couldn't not watch her, the way she seemed to get so involved in her music, in the story of the song, and his heart broke further. He had not been fair to her - leaving without word. But that had always been his way, and he'd never been a particularly fair person, he knew.