Fandom Imagines Part 2

Vulnerable, Robert Chase

In our several years of marriage, Robert has never truly opened up about his parents. I know the story over them - his dad left, and his mom was an alcoholic - but I never knew how Robert handled it all. To have things like that occur in your life at such a young age is life-altering. I know that Robert had to learn how to mature quickly and adapt to taking care of himself, but he's never confessed how that all affects him today.

A few months back, Robert's father came over to the states unexpectedly, and with that, I was able to meet him, and he was able to meet his unborn grandchild and me. He seemed like a kind man, but that still didn't ignore the fact that he had yet to say "sorry" to Robert for his earlier actions when his son was just a child. However, no words of apologies fell from his lips, and even after he left, Robert didn't feel like anything had progressed in their relationship. In fact, he felt like they were still in the same spot they remained originally - maybe even farther back. According to Robert, he got the feeling that his dad was holding something back, but as to what, he had no clue.

It wasn't until tonight that the topic of his dad was brought up again. Although, the way his father was brought up was kind of weird. Robert had come home from work like any other night; however, this time, he altogether avoided me and went over to the couch where he sat down and held his head in his hands. Now seven months pregnant, I slowly padded over to him in the living room before sitting beside him. He had been so caught up in his own mind that my sudden presence frightened him, causing him to jolt slightly before looking over at me and sighing with a small, almost unnoticeable smile.

"Are you okay, baby?" I ask him, moving to  brush his golden locks back and away from his eyes. "You're not acting right tonight - is something wrong?" I add, only receiving a head shake from Robert. "Would you like me to make you something?"

"No, no, I'm not hungry," he tells me, leaning his head against mine with a small sigh. Now I know something isn't right. Robert always comes home from the hospital hungry - it's not like he's had dinner there, and on the rare nights he does eat there, he still comes home with an appetite.

I watch with curiosity as Robert stands from the couch before turning for me with his hand held out. "Care to join me in bed?" He asks quietly, making me furrow my eyebrows a bit. Usually, he's not tired enough to head straight to bed after getting home, but I guess tonight is just an off-night for him.

"Sure," I tell him, placing my hand in his before standing up and wobbling only a little bit. Despite only being at the end of my second trimester, Robert's baby is the size of at least a small watermelon. There is no way this baby is coming out with a weight below six pounds.

With Robert's hand on my lower back, we both head to our room and change into pajamas before lying down beside each other. I'm not used to falling asleep at only ten at night, but I know that this is a blessing for Robert. Sleep deprivation is not something unusual in a doctor's life, and combining that with the fact that he sometimes comes home with the intention of staying up late and spending time with me, Robert only gets about five hours of sleep each night. I don't know how he stays so strong with the lack of rest.

Turning over to see if Robert has fallen asleep, I instead find him staring at the ceiling with a stone face. He continues to stay this way, unmoving, until something causes his Adam's apple to bob in his throat while a shuddered breath leaves his nostrils. With that, my concern comes back in full force as I turn on my side to face him. "Robert," I gently whisper his name, watching as his eyes flicker over to mine. "What's wrong, baby?"

Those seem to be the magic words that break the dam of the oncoming tears that fall from Robert's eyes. I try my hardest to lean up a bit and wipe them away, but my large bump slows me down in doing so. Aside from that, Robert's hands sliding underneath my waist and placing themselves on my back is what stops me completely. "D-don't strain, yourself," he tells me, his voice gentle, yet broken.