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chapter fifteen / season one episode four.
"WOAH, NUTTER." Arthur raised his eyebrows at the teenager that came bounding down the stairs, her best navy blue dress on (considering she refused to wear the light pink or white ones anymore) and a smile as wide as humanely possible on her lips. "Where you off to?"
It was mere curiosity of Arthur's. It wasn't everyday Olivia came downstairs with her hair brushed and into a nice neat ponytail, with her cleanest boots and nicest dress on. And her best smile.
That part was possibly the most concerning for Arthur, who was often oblivious to the emotions of the the other Shelbys. He was often too drunk to notice. But, after John had dropped the major bomb of marriage on them early yesterday he hadn't had much to drink.
Olivia had been giving them all the cold shoulder since they found out and had mocked John for his decisions. She, of course, had only started the cold shoulder treatment after every-one had checked her over after the bomb debacle in Tommy's car.
After they made sure her and Finn were in tip-top condition, she had fist-bumped John and retreated upstairs to her bedroom, which she had slammed the door shut to.
"What is wrong with that girl!?" Polly had screeched, to which John hadn't answered, Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose as a reason crossed his mind and Arthur shrugged.
The eldest Shelby had been well and truly confused. Until, Tommy had spoken of her reasoning.
Arthur had never realized how much Olivia adored love. For Arthur, there were two types of people in life. He viewed the world very simply when it came to love. There was the romantics, and you knew they were a romantic because they were always banging on about love, and their cheeks would go all rosy when speaking to anyone who showed the slightest interest because they were so overjoyed by the prospect of feeling loved. The romantics were very obvious to pick out of a crowd, Arthur always thought that the romantic women would be wearing the nice dresses, silk gloves and maybe a matching hat. The color of all those items would undoubtedly match, usually being of a rose pink or pure white. The men would wear foolish smiles and tip their hats at the ladies that passed by, and would do anything gentleman-like to catch their attention.
Those were the romantics. Then there were those who despised love with their whole being. They were grumpy, always walking 'round Small Heath with a chip on their shoulder and bumping into you because if they were having a bad day they wanted to knock your day down a few pegs too. These people were very easy to spot in a crowd too, they often were darker color and had sullen faces and stood out in stark contrast to the romantics. They hated when people would hold hands in the streets, and even the thought of love made them gag.
