“I don’t know what that is.”
“....It’s a giant bubble, Natalie.”
“Sweetie. My guy. Dude. That is not a fucking bubble.”
A slight pause as they both contemplated the bubble.
The young man was named Ethan Winther; he was a tall and spindly sort, with pale skin and long, black hair. On a more active day he might’ve teetered at the edge of casually gothic—distinct enough a wardrobe to stand out, but not enough to be obnoxious. But tonight, he was content just wearing pajamas.
The young woman by his side was named Natalie Garza. Decidedly shorter and spunkier, she was a tomboy possessing an array of vaguely European, vaguely Latina features. She couldn’t tell you where her ancestry was based, aside from ‘a bit of everywhere, I guess?’, but she didn’t really care all that much, either. This was her general attitude for a lot of things.
They were really cute together.
And they would’ve kept being cute together, were movie night not interrupted by a giant stupid freaking bubble.
“Should we call the police? I feel like this is a good time to call the police,” Ethan said, his gaze worriedly fixated on the floating object. It was filled with bizarre and brightly colored shapes. It almost felt like... Some kind of abstract painting?
Natalie let out a long, steady yawn, studying the droplets of rain on their apartment window. “Maybe. I guess. It hasn’t really done anything though, aside from suddenly existing.”
Another pause.
She smirked.
“Wanna poke it?”
“What!? No!” Ethan glared at her. “We’re leaving that thing alone. No touching.”
“Pfff, you’re no fun.” She was already getting up.
“No. Touching. The bubble.”
“Not-a-bubble.”
“Then no touching the weird floating sphere thing! It’s literally supernatural!”
Natalie shrugged. “What, you think it’s gonna eat me or something?”
And with that, the reality bubble glowed an eerie, orange glow.
