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Bobby was used to gray skies. Rainy days were familiar and reminded him of home. Though it wasn’t his favorite type of weather, there was a strange sort of comfort that came from rolling clouds of gray and the rain that accompanied them.
Though, he much preferred the rare occasions in between, when the clouds would part and the sun would peer through, offering a rich patch of sunlight that soaked through his skin and warmed the deep chill onset by the rain.
He savored every fleeting moment of sun, its rays warm and bashful as they peeked through the clouds to kiss his skin before going back into hiding. He yearned for more of that cozy solace, coming and going in fragments between the mundanity of everyday weather.
Love Island seemed as good a chance as any to indulge in that feeling and have the sun remain constant for a little while.
The weather he was used to made the cerulean skies and blazing Spanish sun all the more striking when he arrived in Mallorca for the first time.
He didn’t think a place could be so…bright. Strikingly, alarmingly, beautifully bright. He’d definitely go blind if he saw anything brighter than this.
And then you walked in the villa.
With your confident strut and your five million-kilowatt smile, he could swear you were the physical manifestation of the sun itself.
Instinctively - and admittedly a little bit stupidly - he shielded his eyes when you looked his way for the first time. There was a fire in your eyes he couldn’t help but feel himself being drawn to, burning straight through him with a single glance.
The objective for the summer was still to soak up as much sun as possible, but he wasn’t gonna pass up a chance to get to know you.
His instincts told him to open with a joke, pique your interest in him and maybe, just maybe, you’d pick him. The joke was…not his best work. Actually, it was downright awful.
But to his surprise, you laughed. And to his even greater surprise, you picked him.
When asked why, you shrugged. “Wanted to take you up on that whole ‘laughing all the way to the bedroom’ thing,” you said with the cheesiest grin in existence.
No longer were you blazing and dangerous. You were pleasant and inviting, a sunspot during golden hour.
He spent the ensuing weeks basking in your warm glow, greedily consuming every golden ray that was your presence.
Whether it was during a challenge or resolving everyone else’s problems when you really shouldn’t have or even just having a lazy lie-in together, the more he got to know you, the more he was sure you made him feel like sunshine after a rainy day.
There were a few moments where his sunshine was taken away. It was difficult for sure, but nothing you two couldn’t handle. Between new islanders, the infamous disaster recoupling, those three days away from each other in Casa, and those subsequent days when you two weren’t coupled up, it seemed nothing could break the hold you two had on one another.
Every time, without fail, you chose him.
And it scared the hell out of him.
He’d never felt this way about someone before, but surely this was just a holiday romance, right? Feelings like this come and go all the time, no way was this indicative of anything deeper.
Then came the rain.
Rainy days don’t happen in Spain, they just don’t. Everyone in the villa was understandably bummed, who wouldn’t be when your summer in paradise is literally rained on?
But you confronted it head on.
You ran outside while everyone else headed for shelter.
You turned your face up to the sky and threw your arms out and danced in the rain, shining just as brightly as you did when you two first met.
When you reached out to Bobby, beckoning him to dance with you, to shed all his worries and just be, all his apprehension toward the rain seemed to melt away.
Everything felt all the more bearable with you, his perpetual sunshine.
He joined you, laughing and dancing as you got soaked together until you both grew tired and the rain subsided. He looked at you, drenched and beautiful and out of breath, as a gap in the clouds formed and the sun shone down on your face.
And then it clicked. When he realized you made him feel like all those love songs.
Suddenly everything made sense.
Lounging quietly together on one of the daybeds on a particularly hot day, Bobby’s head in your lap as you counted the freckles on his sleepy, sunkissed face, he hummed a melody you couldn’t quite recognize .
It sounded lovely nonetheless and you swayed softly to the tune, leaving featherlight touches across his cheeks as the low thrum of whatever Bobby was humming lulled you comfortably as you baked in the summer heat.
“Sunny,” he finally murmured, more to himself than to you.
“Hm?”
You retired for a moment from counting, losing track somewhere between thirty and a thousand, deciding instead to absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair.
“Sunny,” he repeated.
“Oh, is it?” you replied sarcastically, shielding your eyes with your free hand as you looked out at the rolling fields beyond the infinity pool. “Kinda weird for the sun to be out in the summer.”
There goes that sharp wit he fell in love with.
“No. Remember the other day when we were talking about cute nicknames?”
“Rings a bell. Lass not doin’ it for you?”
“No, I like lass. But Sunny’s…different. Reminds me of a song my parents used to listen to when I was a kid.”
“Mm,” you hummed in response. “Sing it for me?”
He obliged of course, singing you a kind of hushed, lullaby rendition of the song, the words clinging to his lips like a whispered secret for your ears and your ears only.
Truth be told, it made you feel…dizzy. You tried to play it off in your mind as the heat getting to you, but you knew this feeling well. You felt it with every passing display of affection, every time you felt his lips on yours, every time your skin brushed against his underneath the covers of your shared bed when the lights were off and the other islanders were fast asleep and the only people in your little world were you and him.
It never really struck you that Bobby felt as strongly for you as you did for him.
“Sunny,” you repeated, the name light and bubbly as it passed your lips. “That’s beautiful, Bobby.”
“Don’t act so surprised, I can be deep when I wanna be,” he joked, earning a dramatic sigh and an eye roll from you despite the smile on your face.
Sunny. Sunny. You couldn’t help but repeat it to yourself like a mantra.
“Alright, well, if my name’s Sunny now,” you said, lazily stroking his face with the tips of your fingers. “We’ve gotta do something about our couple name.”
“Naturally. Looks like our options are Sobby-”
“Hard pass.”
“What’s wrong with Sobby?” he teased as you scrunched your nose.
“It sounds sad. That’s the opposite of feeling sunny.”
“Fair. What about Bunny, then?”
“Bunny. Cute.”
From then on, he’d always affectionately call you Sunny. It was the kind of tooth-rotting sweetness that would have made him feel sick just a few months prior but just felt right with you.
“Sunny,” he said, his pulse quickening as you looked him directly in the eyes.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Some days you'd lie in bed together, your worries distant as you cracked jokes and whispered sweet nothings to one another. These moments were some of Bobby's favorites.
When the light of golden hour leaked through the windows of your shared bedroom and played on the minute details of your features, the brightness of the setting sun paling in comparison to the way you shined.
“Hey,” you'd say every time you caught him looking at you with that lovestruck, moony-eyed gaze he'd given you the first time he laid eyes on you. “Will you sing that song for me again?”
Of course he would. He’d sing it a million times if you wanted. He’d sing it over and over until his lungs gave out and his voice grew hoarse and the lyrics all became sentimental nonsense.
For as long as he lived and as long as you loved him, he’d always sing it for you. Always.