𝗜𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁 𝗔𝗳𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿𝘀 | 𝐁𝗼𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲/𝗥𝗙𝗞

II: "Beyond the Sea"

At 5 a.m., the sea-kissed breeze gently caresses Evelyn's face, pushing her to the edge of sanity as the question of 'to leave or not to leave' cycles in her head. The contrast between Hyannis and the vibrant chaos of Los Angeles is stark, with the Western sun easily seeping into her bones from merely thinking about it. But the thought of seeing "STARRING EVELYN BELLAMY" at the beginning of every single film, not just the one, ignites a fiery passion within her.

"Careful," Bobby utters, seizing the woman's arm just as she is about to lose her footing and tumble into the waves. "What's going on, Eve?" A glassy concerned look darts into his eyes

Evelyn returns it with a lump of guilt sitting in her throat. "I'm sorry..." she knows all too well the sacredness of their beach walks, the only time when they're left alone, but words seem to escape her.

Nothing escapes Bobby but a sharp exhale; there is sympathy on his part, but it's getting harder for him to deny the exasperation welling up inside him.

The actress shakes her head, thinking it'll help with the thoughts within. "It's just... a little crazy!" She chuckles nervously. "I understand giving me a role in Elia's picture, but Michael Curtiz?" She remembers beholding the director's genius in Casablanca — how he went and got himself and the picture some Oscars — ten eventful years have passed, yet it seems so fresh in her mind.

"Pops can be a little crazy, too," Bobby answers nonchalantly, "but you have to remember who you are while the world still does." He veils his worries with words of encouragement, but they can't fool her.

The two souls resume their trek in utter silence before finding themselves under the shade of a tree not long after. Bobby grunts in relief as he leans against the bark of the tree; the muscles around his neck are slightly sore as he didn't get much sleep last night.

Evelyn steps closer, her eyes fixating on a distinctive mark etched onto the bark. In a whisper so soft it is almost lost to the breeze, she declares, "This is our tree."

Bobby examines the ground by running his hand over it, smiling as the sacred object they buried a while back grazes against his palm. "Yeah, it is... how many more years till we can exhume it?"

"Seven," answers the woman with the certainty of someone who's been counting the days.

"Still a long way to go..."

The tree seems to have been smaller than Evelyn remembers; when she sits beside Bobby, there is not enough surface on the bark to lean on. Even as the man obligingly scoots over, their arms are pressed together, producing unwarranted warmth.

Bobby, completely flushed, tries to move again. "Sorry, I'll just—"

"I have to remember who I am," Evelyn murmurs out of the blue, and the tension between them floats away like the morning mist over the sea. "That's what everyone's saying... even at school. They just won't leave me alone."

Bobby remains silent as he thinks of the right words to say. "Look, if you want me to convince you to stay, I'd be happy to," he finally pipes up. "You know I never wanted you to go in the first place..."

The woman nods dismissively, she knows how lucky she is to have this kind of dilemma — people would kill to have Hollywood and fame be the biggest problems in their lives — but there is a distinct heaviness within her heart that just keeps her from being rational.

"But we're both old enough to know that this is the way forward." Bobby places a panatella he's been saving between his lips. "You get to do what you love, you get to see Paul again, and you..." he pauses to gesture to Evelyn for a light — he's left his at home — "Well, you won't have to deal with us plebs anymore."