Chapter 5

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February 17th, 1958

Glam Undergroove —

We sat inside the diner as the furniture slowly rolled in. The several boxes appearing and being dismantled showed the vibrant furniture the two ladies had chosen. It was only Red and I—Wilbur running late with the two since Maddie was supposedly having "pregnancy morning issues" or whatever Nova had described to me. I wouldn't care—Nova wouldn't be pregnant. Red looked at me as he looked more nervous than ever. "Do you—remember anything I said when I was drunk?" He asked as I glanced, smiling in a devious manner. "Your homoerotic confessions?" I asked as Red's face was slightly tinted. "Yes! That! Don't...please don't mention it to him. I...I wasn't in the right mindset." He said, glancing around a bit as I shrugged. Picking up one of the empty cups and glancing at it. "What if I do? I think he'd find it cute that the man who introduced him to alcohol has a crush on him." I said, slurring my speech. Using the empty cup in my hand as a stimulation of how he was when he was drunk. He jumped up quickly as his face shifted. "Stop it Glam! I swear to fucking god! Don't fucking say shit!" He shouted, approaching me as I felt myself back up. "Hey—Hey—I'm only joking!" I said as his hands gripped my coat. "You're fucking not! I know how you are Glam, you're gonna say you're not but you will. Do you want everything to be gone all because you couldn't handle but ruin my FUCKING LIFE—" Red stopped as Wilbur's hand touched his shoulder. He pulled him back as Red's eyes widened. Turning to see Wilbur's concerned face, he had a bagel in his mouth. He used a free hand to take it out of his mouth as he chewed slightly. "What the hell is going on?" He asked as Red went blank. I felt his grip release as I cleaned my coat. Spotting Nova and Maddie follow slightly in. Red looked doomed, almost like he was suddenly growing paranoid about this. He kept looking at me. His eyes pleaded as I sighed. "I was making fun of Red's newest collection. You know he likes coffee cups?" I said, my teeth gritting as I so badly wanted to scream it. He has a crush! He wants you dude!—ok wait this sounds bad since his wife is just behind him. "Oh. Really? I didn't even know that!" He said, smiling as his hand slapped against Red's shoulder. Red exhaled in almost happiness. "Y—Yeah." He said, his voice trembling a bit as Wilbur smiled wholeheartedly. He turned himself back around as the movers helped themselves to build the furniture already.

March 13th, 1958

Wilbur Beloved —

Maddie worked along with Nova as the two were almost like two peas in a pod. The only small decrease was with Maddie getting tiny kicks in the stomach. Her checkup is coming later this week–so I am not shocked she's getting a little kick up. I sat in my office as I watched Maddie trail herself into the doorway. She pulled to the side as she groaned audibly. My eyes glanced up to watch her fanning herself as I smiled and stood up. Closing the door and sitting next to her. "What's wrong?" I asked, her face squinting as the clear sweat drops were visible. "The babies–the babies making me so hormonal–" She cried a bit as she rubbed her stomach. "More rough than..." She started, before stopping herself as she saw me smile weakly. "I guess he doesn't want to be tossed around anymore," I said, before watching Maddie's eyebrow raise. "He? You assume it's a boy?" She said, smirking before succumbing to the pain. I rubbed her shoulders for a brief moment before she exhaled again. "Can we just go get this baby's gender revealed sooner than later? This kid is kicking my organs around at this rate." She groaned as she tried to hold a smile in the pain. I'd placed my hand on her stomach as I could feel the rascal. Squirming and kicking like an animal desiring freedom from its cocoon. "If you want us to have some well-alone time from this place we could. I don't think the 3 would mind." I said, smiling as Maddie grinned back in response. "I'd love to—this apron is making me feel compressed." She responded as I got up—lending a hand and helping her up.

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