Butterfly • Book 1/3

Prologue

Prologue
3rd Person POV

"You are cordially invited to the joining of love between Mr. Andrey Nathaniel Voss and Miss Alana Rae Medvedev on the 29th of May, 2017 at 4:30 p.m. in Moscow, Russ-"

The curly haired man slams the lilac piece of paper down on the wooden kitchen table in front of him, then runs a callused hand through his hair, tugging at the brown roots. He's surprised that the excessive amount of force he used didn't break the table. A frustrated groan escapes from his lips as he pours himself a glass of whiskey, downing it in seconds.
After pouring himself another, 26 year Benjamin Paul Bruce walks out into the front porch of his Texas home. He mutters a string of profanities and inaudible words as he stares out into the trees. There weren't many trees where he lived, but in moments like these, he cherished every one of them.
How dare his ex fiancé send him an invitation to her wedding to a man that wasn't him. They didn't end on too terrible of a note, but they haven't talked since. Ben didn't need another shitstorm, at least not at this point in time. He views the invitation as a silent but very apparent jab towards him. Kind of like Alana purposely trying to rub her newfound love (not towards him) in his face. She used to be his Little Lana, not this Andrey guys'. This thought only irritated him more.
He swallows the lump in his throat, downing his second glass of alcohol. "Fuckin' Christ," he mutters. "she's got a hell of a lot of audacity."
Ben stalks back into his home and flops himself down on his plush, black couch, switching the TV to a random station. He begins to daydream, losing perspective of what's in front of him, and he loses himself in his thoughts.
"I'm over her," he thinks. "I've been over her for three years, why am I getting so upset over this." Ben pictures the moment he proposed to Alana in his mind, but shakes out of it as he harshly kicks the table in front of him. Table abuse seems to be his form of anger release today.
A knock brings Ben back to reality, but he doesn't brother to get up. He mutters a muffled "come in", loud enough for the person to hear. Soon, Ben feels a harsh slap against his exposed back, jolting him upwards.
"Mate, what the fuck?!"
"Sorry," the man, who Ben soon identifies as his best friend Danny, laughs. "I just came over to see if you got the invitation." He pulls a piece of light purple paper identical to the one Ben received out of the pocket of his ripped jeans.
"I did. Feel free to take it on your way out the door."
Danny sighs, sitting next to a seemingly distraught Ben. "You're going, it's all expenses paid."
Ben's face goes red with rage. "Who are YOU to tell ME what to do?! Why should I go? I don't give a DAMN if it's free or not. Bloody hell, man. I don't want to fucking go, I don't want to see her again!"
His friend sighs. "Think of it as..." Danny rubs his hands together in thought before continuing. "Think of it as a form of closure. Plus you'll get to see your mum and sister again, they're going."
"How do you know that my mum and Bex are going?"
"Bex phoned me yesterday to ask if you got your invitation and how you felt about it. She knew you'd rage if she asked, and she knew you'd talk to me about it if you got it, since I'm your best friend and all." He chuckles lightly. "And then she said that her and your mum were going."
Ben's mood doesn't change as he stomps off to where he left the crumpled piece of paper. "I just went through one shitstorm with Denis, I certainly do NOT need another one with Alana." He takes a glance at the invitation, then towards his phone. "Today's February 20th, I have until April 21st to reply. I'm good."
Danny sighs rather loudly, running a hand over his short beard. "Prolonging the decision isn't going to help you much. You're stubborn as always, Mr. Bruce."
Ben laughs dryly. "Of course, Mr. Worsnop, you know me so well." He pulls a bottle of Fireball out of his liquor cabinet and gestures towards Danny, his eyebrows raised.
"Not today, my friend. My girlfriend's moving the rest of her stuff in today."
"Must be nice."
Danny snorts. "Yep, totally. Moving boxes and furniture. Whooptie fuckin' do, mate." He pats Ben on the back. "Think about it, man. It's a free vacation nonetheless."
As soon as Ben hears the door shut, signaling his friend's departure, he glances down at the crumpled invitation.
A free trip to Russia does sound kind of nice.
He could always fake "sick" the day of the wedding, couldn't he?