𝗜𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁 𝗔𝗳𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿𝘀 | 𝐁𝗼𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲/𝗥𝗙𝗞

XXXIII: "Do You Really, Robert?"

[June 17, 1950]

Small birds were singing melodic tunes in a sycamore tree just outside of Ethel's bedroom, the sun rose at a steady pace; its natural light seep through the small crack of the bedroom's curtain. On the mattress, Bobby lied awake — unsure if it was the birds that woke him or the footsteps echoing inside the house, not to mention the peals of laughter coming from the backyard. "Bad dream," Bobby whispered to himself. He couldn't help but think of how he'd rather live through the nightmare he just had than the current reality. For him, the time was ticking slightly faster as he was to wed the woman sleeping next to him. He set his feet on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed to ponder about his future.

"You're up early." The voice that had become uncomfortably familiar to Bobby snuck into his head. He merely hummed as a response, unbothered to open his eyes. "How are you feeling?" The figure shifted in the sheets and observed the man. "Nervous," Bobby replied, with an extremely monotonous answer. Ethel nodded her head empathetically; she understood his feelings too well. "Sorry about last night." Bobby shyly referred to an unfortunate situation they found themselves in just eight hours ago. "Don't. No need to explain." The last thing Ethel wanted to become was a burden to her fiancé — merely because she wanted to release some stress.

"I get anxious, you know? There are too many people in this house: my brothers and sisters, your sisters. Our parents, and well... Evelyn and hers." Bobby raked his fingers through his messy bed hair, he felt his head pounding endlessly; he would need a lot of aspirins to survive his own wedding. "Sure, I get it. I don't know why I didn't think about that." Ethel got into a sitting position on her side of the bed. The room felt crowded even if it was only Bobby on the bed with her, it was as though there was a ghost haunting them—specifically from the past—and it was just lingering... around Bobby. It might even speak French if you ask politely.

The man inhaled deeply just to feel human again, while a misty light shone against his bare chest; it abducted him from the real world and he became fixated at the wonders of ultraviolet. "You know... I never saw that side of my father until yesterday." Ethel's words startled Bobby out of the reverie he was wandering in. "What are you talking about?" He swiveled around. "That, you know, typical behavior men get around beautiful women?" Ethel thought she sounded foolish but when her lover nod, it gave her reassurance that she wasn't talking nonsense. "He was always... so polite and gentlemanly around his guests. But that was somebody else," She continued with the theory, her eyes scrutinizing her fiancée's face as an attempt to see through him.

Bobby had heard enough, he was not about to let the bastard—his future father-in-law—ruin his day anymore — moreover his wedding day. "I think everybody was somebody else yesterday," He muttered, utterly disappointed with the crowd he would forge a familial bond with. "Jack was never like that, either." Ethel knew it was a sensitive topic to discuss—Jack being a jackass—she respects Bobby too much to gossip about his brother in front of him. The man got a smile on his face as he realized his fiancée had the same idea. "He was a bastard... talking about Evelyn like that," He freely answered, without filtering his words.

Ethel, pleased with his response, surprised Bobby by hugging him from behind. "But not you. You were a gentleman," She uttered into his ear. "Thank you." Bobby forced a weak smile on his face. "And I know you get crazy when someone talks about Eve like that." Ethel obviously did not form any forethought before uttering the sentence; it came off as presumptuous and invasive to the man hearing it. "I would go as far as saying she was my first real friend." But he shook it off and answered with, more or less, a generic statement. "She's more than that." Ethel groaned intentionally, it was low in tone; denoting it to be disappointment she was feeling, and not anger.