Bunny

He also stresses a lot over not sounding ungrateful.

Premises made! Elliott has been stuck in bed for almost a week now, trapped by a terrible flu.

Sometimes Willy, the good man he is, checks up on him, but the man wakes up really early to go fishing and he’s not always available when he’s in open sea, you know?

Thankfully, you know no boundaries. You’ve been barging into Elliott’s lonely shrack for days to check up on him. It must be depressing to live alone and be sick. The sound of the waves and the seagulls might make up for it during the day, but as soon as the sun sets behind the shores, you can’t help but think how Elliott must be feeling all by himself, as the wind roars against the unstable wooden shed.

Poor, poor Elliott in need of your care. The fact you have a little crush on him is irrelevant in this scenario, isn’t it?

Still, you’re keen on winning the imaginary best-and-most-nosy-citizen-of-Pelican-Town award for another year. So you decide to do something to cheer him up and barge in once again.

You have no doubt that, being a writer and a romanticist, he will find your gift beautiful and actually get the meaning of it.

That morning, you find him sitting up in his bed in a white shirt, his auburn locks a tangled mess. His eyes still look at you in the soft morning light with a kindness all of their own. He’s genuinely happy to see you. You are his medicine during these miserable days.

You place it in his lap – a modest bouquet you assembled yourself: Chrysanthemum for a good recovery, Chamomile for patience and Coreopsis to keep a good spirit while healing.

His face becomes the same colour of his hair. A few moved tears well up in his eyes as he grabs the simple bouquet in his arms.

He immediately asks you if you can put them in a vase on his nightstand. Then, as you sit down next to his bed, he grabs your hands in his and looks at you with an exasperatedly sweet expression. He’s so dramatic, sometimes, but you know he’s feeling all the gratitude he’s trying to convey in his words.

His lips find the soft skin of your palms many, many times, his touch reverent as he keeps holding your hands in his delicately.

He looks up at you for a second while his mouth is pressed against your delicate palm, pretending it was a mistake, but you find a glint of something a lot bolder than the delicate touches you've exchanged and you can't quite put your finger on what it is that he's avoiding your gaze again.

He looks at the flowers day and night, feeling much less lonely now that a piece of your heart is next to him.

When he’s finally feeling better enough to sit at his wooden desk, he writes you an heartfelt letter for the beautiful present. Something that goes along the lines of: “Ever since you’ve arrived in this little town, you’ve illuminated my days like a bright sun. Without your care and cheerfulness, I would’ve healed just fine, but with a much heavier heart.” – something like that.

When months later he opens up his notebook in front of you on one of those rare mornings when you don’t have much work to do at the farm and join him for a walk, you see it: a beautiful, familiar flower tucked between two pages like a candid secret.

Alex:

I believe that his father’s words have had a great impact on what he thinks and how he behaves – not in a good way. He’s used to walk on eggshells and to think lowly of himself, even though he’s good at hiding it behind a pompous façade.

Even after coming to the valley, the ghost of his father still haunts him. His harsh words echo inside him every day and sometimes he’s just not strong enough to confront them.

He’s one of those guys that believe that true men don’t cry or show their emotions, that they can’t be too soft, that they have to like certain things to be manly and flowers surely aren’t among the things they should like. It’s not his fault. His father was a great example of toxic masculinity among the other bad things he has been for him – a terrible father, to name one.

So he claims he doesn’t like flowers. Flowers are emasculating, he says. Flowers are something you gift to a girl, because he believes it’s in a woman’s nature to like them.

But when you ask him to elaborate, he actually doesn’t have an explanation beyond that thought other than ‘they are too girly’. It’s like that simple opinion has been instilled there and never questioned until this day.

He doesn’t say these things with a bad meaning, I promise! He’s genuinely trying to overcome the terrible traces his dad has left. Just, sometimes he needs a little help to recognise some patterns as wrong. Wrong not per se – in this case, yes – but because many of his beliefs are forged on the fact he has shaped his whole person on what his father constantly criticised.

Ugh, I love him and I want to punch his dad so bad.

When Spring’s knocking on the door, sometimes Alex helps Evelyn with the flowers arrangments around Pelican Town. He’s strong, after all! But sometimes his grandma asks him for an opinion and, well, he has a very refined taste.

Still, he won’t admit he likes flowers. If he gave you another reason other than “it’s a girls’ thing”, you would just leave it, but, given the circumstances, you just can’t.

So, of course, you try to explain to him that men can receive flowers too and that they are absolutely allowed to appreciate them. He looks at you dumbfounded, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

It’s not much you have been going out together. You can’t even pinpoint the exact moment you realised you two were dating. You gradually started spending more time together, you at his kiosk and him at your farm helping around; then he started walking you home after every outing, stopping at your porch until the sun has set. He’s so delicate in the way he cares for you. He’s a good, sensitive guy. He just has to understand it’s not a flaw.

It’s part of your summer routine to spend some time together down the beach or walking around before the sun gets too strong and he has to open the kiosk. You both wake up fairly early and even though he could simply come to your farm and hang out as you do your things, you need a distraction too, sometimes.

And it’s not like you get much done when he comes over anyway.

Every morning, he’s already out of his house waiting for you, waving his imaginary tail at you when you approach him – even though he tries to keep it cool. He has an image, you know.

Today, though, you were so nervous you took the path that leads to the city earlier than usual. Evelyn has found you waiting for her grandson outside of their house, so she let you in.

She glances at the colorful bouquet in your hands with a loving smile and tells you to go wake Alex up, as he’s probably still asleep.

His room is dark, a vagabond ray filtering through a small space left between the blinds and the windowsill finds its way to the bed where Alex is snoring quietly. You sit at the edge of the bed and shake him gently.

He groans, opens his eyes and turns to the other side. Then, after realising it’s you, he jumps on his bed and rubs his eyes.

“Wha… What are you…” he mumbles, trying to fix his hair. You don’t even give him the chance to get out of his confused daze that you place the pretty bouquet in his lap, a little token of your affection and a reinforcing demonstration to your words of the conversation you’ve had in the previous days.

And, oh, your heart shatters when he realises what’s going on and starts tearing up. His cheeks heat up and he’s suddenly picking you up and placing you in his lap, one hand holding the flowers and the other placed securely around your waist as he hides his warm face in your neck, sobbing.

He’s a very sensitive guy and he appreciates you a lot. Just, he doesn’t allow himself to show it too often in case you might judge him as weak. But you don’t and with that simple, genuine gesture he remembers once again that he doesn’t have to pretend around you. He’s free to be himself.

He’s grateful for the flowers, but he’s especially grateful for you. From that moment on, he lets himself be more vulnerable around you. He starts showing that he’s not casual about you, but that he has serious intentions and that he’s not dating you just for fun. Which is great, really.

You start gifting each other flowers every now and then. Evelyn finds it endearing, especially when Alex asks her for advice.

In your love, he can rest and grow. He’s finally safe from his father.

Shane:

We all already know how terribly shy this man is.

And how self-deprecating he is. He truly believes he doesn’t deserve good things. Not that there are that many left for him – or so he believes, at least.

He lives his existence in a drunken haze, devoted to a bottle of beer and to his little niece. Until he met you, that is.

It’s not easy to get Shane to open up, but you’re on a good way. He’s warmed up to you a little ever since you’ve moved to Pelican Town, so, when he’s in a particularly good mood, you join him at the Saloon for a drink or two.

Emily has just brought you your third round before turning around to discuss with Lewis some particulars about the flowers arrangment for the upcoming Flower Dance. Shane scoffs by your side.

You ask him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t elaborate. Then it hits you; it’s tradition among your fellow citizens to gift each other pretty flower arrangements in occasion of the yearly Flower Dance. A pletora of colours decors counters, tables, windowsills as a reminder that Spring is passing by. It’s just a way to celebrate, to wait for the Flower Dance with a little more excitement.

You ask him if he’s ever received a bouquet, but he scoffs. It’s not like he gets that many gifts nowadays. He’s not popular with the ladies anymore. The only “lady” that sometimes gifts him something is his niece, when she comes back home from Ms. Penny’s lessons with a colorful drawing or a pretty handmade bracelet.

You don’t know if he’d be happy to receive a gift from you. Not the usual pepper poppers you bring to the ranch, lying that you “accidentally made too many”, but a proper gift. Still, you’re tired of the confusing tension that hovers over you when you’re together. You want to give him a hint and he’s just served you the solution on a silver plate.

A couple of days later, on a Sunday, he’s feeding Marnie’s chickens in the back of the ranch. He had been drinking the night before – and the one before, and the one even before – and his stomach feels like crap, but Jas is at home and he’s not going to let her notice that he’s feeling unwell. Plus, he’s used to work with a hangover.

The little girl calls him out to the front, telling him the farmer has came to visit.

He grumbles. He’s grown fond of you over the past few months, but you can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Especially when he’s already fighting against the urge to puke everywhere. You were there last night. He doesn’t need your scolding.

Still, he unconsciously runs a hand through his hair to make it decent and comes out.

His face becomes so red it looks like he’s been staying out in the sun for too long.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary. It’s always you and that stupid, cheerful expression of yours – but he immediately notices the large bouquet you’re holding in your arms. And it doesn’t leave any room for doubts. You were doing it on purpose, probably to fluster him or to mock him.

Otherwise, why would you be carrying him a bouquet of fully-bloomed red roses?

You explain yourself, hiding your equally red face behind the sudden present, and you tell him that there is at least one person willing to give him gifts actually, even if he claims he’s not that popular with the ladies anymore.

He looks at you, stunned, but decides to lift the huge bouquet from your arms – only to help you out. It looks pretty heavy, after all.

He grumbles a quick “thank you”, his face scorching, but he doesn’t have to deal with the embarrassment any longer because you’re as red as him and you claim you need some fresh air before waltzing out of his house.

Jas is a smart kid and she immediately figures out what’s going on, but she doesn’t comment on it, which he appreciates. Except that when Marnie, absent during that shameful exchange, starts teasing him during dinner about what happened that morning, he immediately understands Jas has spilled everything.

He spends days contemplating the flowers in his room, but it’s only when the last petal is rotting that he figures he should do something to express his gratitude… somehow.

He’s terrible with these things. While he walks the sunny path towards your farm, he’s tempted to turn around and go back home many times. Yet, he knocks on your door fairly early during the morning, after having avoided you for a good amount of days.

Pulling you in and planting an awkward kiss on your cheek, he leaves a small box in your hands before trotting away. Inside, there’s a cute hay hat, decorated with a green ribbon, and a ticket: “so you won’t get sunburnt anymore.”

Harvey:

Pelican Town’s citizens have really grown on the goofy doctor. He was searching for a peaceful place to exercise his profession, away from the chaotic city he has studied in, and even though he sometimes misses the endless choices of fun it offered, he wouldn’t go back to the smog and the traffic and the noise pollution and—

You get it. Despite being used to a different life style, and maybe especially because of this, he’s grown to love the quiet valley. It does wonders for the health, too, because the air is clear and the routine is slow.

There’s only one issue and I’ll give you a riddle to guess it. To keep you alert, you see.

You can find it in the air during Spring and it makes you sneeze the whole fucking day.

Spring, after all, is the pollen season. It’s an amazing sight when flowers are blooming everywhere and the trees are producing their juicy fruits, but Harvey can only admire the colorful change of the flora around the valley from afar, because he’s terribly allergic. He follows some therapy to keep it at bay, but he hasn’t found an antihistamine good enough to cover him completely.

His house, too, is full of fake plants because of that reason.

One day, after he was so attentive with taking care of you when you strained your ankle in the mines, not only as a doctor but also as a friend, you decided to have a bouquet of dahlias – symbol of gratitude – delivered to his clinic.

Huge mistake. He was miserable and you couldn’t stop apologising.

Still, you found it so sad. Flowers can really make a person happy, they’re a meaningful gift and they’re just so pretty to look at! You want Harvey to be able to enjoy them too, possibly avoiding harming him in the process.  

When he has finally recovered from his brief crisis, he visits you again to check up on you and your poor ankle. It’s doing fairly good now, compared to when Linus had found you in the mines, crying for help; Harvey is good at his job and he’s a kind soul, which gives him a boost.

He also visits you for the simple pleasure of your company. And he’s confident enough that you enjoy his company as well, because there’s not one single moment of silence whenever he comes over and sits at your bedside to chat about everything but your ankle.

The first five minutes, he tries to pretend he’s there for medical reasons. You both drop the act after a while, though. You simply like spending time with each other, when he doesn’t have any patient or Maru is covering him at the clinic at least.

Anyway, to PROPERLY THIS TIME thank him for the great care and also as a way to apologise for the little allergy accident, you decide to resort to your knowledge as a farmer to find a way to gift him a floral token without potentially causing him another crisis.

One afternoon, after his usual round of his patients’ houses – he regularly checks up on George and Robin has been stuck in bed for a bad flu – and saving yours for last, both because you live far from the city center and because he wants to enjoy your company with no rush, he finds a large bouquet on the chair he usually sits on to chat with you.

Is it a joke? He doesn’t know what to do other than stare at you from the doorway, but you quickly reassure him. You had done your researches and lilacs should be harmless, even for a nose as sensitive as his.

He walks towards your bed slowly, weighing every step, and then he carefully, gracefully picks up the bouquet, staring at the beautiful flowers and especially admiring your effort in finding something he, too, could enjoy. His ears are of a lovely shade of bordeaux, in great contrast with the purple petals.

But you aren’t done teasing the bashful doctor. While he composes himself with a cough and neatly places his case and the flowers on the chair to visit you, you simply observe him. But when he finally sits down beside you, you lean over and whisper, as if it was a spicy secret:

“Do you know what lilacs simbolise, doc?”

Lilacs simbolise the love that blooms in Spring. And the way his quiet care has made its way throughout the gardens of your heart during this Spring you were forced in bed has definitely made a great affection bloom inside you for the kind-hearted, silent doctor of the valley.

Yes, moving to Pelican Town has been the right choice.

Sebastian:

We all already know about Sebastian’s long-cherished dream to abandon the lonely, slow life of the valley for a more electrifying experience in the city.

The city looks so full of life; it has an alluring charm and a promising sense of freedom that overcomes the negative sides of living in a much vaster space that’s so different from what he’s used to. The bright lights that shine even at night, the tall buildings, the feeling of opportunity…

Yes, he wants to be part of something like that. An immense drawing where he can be both a shadow and a star.

So when this important client of his proposed him to move to Zuzu City for a while to help him work on a new project, he should’ve jumped at the opportunity. And he would have, really. If a couple of months ago someone had asked him to move away from his house and finally experience a piece of that delicious cake that is independence, he would’ve been thrilled.

Except that now there’s you in the picture.

It’s not that you are dating or something, but he’s not a stupid. He knows that something is there, lingering in between the languid gazes you send each other at the Saloon or the way you two always find excuses to bump into each other and stay together for longer. But there’s nothing official. Maybe he’s just seeing things, after all.

After all, you were the first one to encourage him to take the opportunity to explore something other than the peaceful valley.

He can’t exactly mention his feelings when the decision is made. That would be selfish. He’d like to be selfish, to ask you to wait, but he doesn’t, because he’s not even sure when he’ll be back.

What he doesn’t know is that this new story about his transfer has made you really upset. You’re worried he will just forget about you. You were a particular character, different from anyone than he’s ever known, but he has been in the valley for so long that you convince yourself the only reason he’s took a liking to you is because you are fairly new, therefore interesting.

Plus, you have known the city. It can swallow you down with its frenetic pace.

You’re worried he will forget about you. But you’re stuck in the same place as him and so you think you’re in no position to say anything about his wishes.

Both of you are stupidly waiting for the other to speak up.

Your affection towards each other has always been subtle. Sometimes a simple gaze is enough between you. Hidden, but fulfilling.

He has to wake up early tomorrow, so you settle to meet up after dinner to spend some more time together.

Your heart trembles when you see him, nonchalantly cool as if he had just came out of a stupid romance book, leaning against his bike as he lights a cigarette.

He takes you for a ride. You don’t speak much, words probably meaningless when the wind and the way your hands are gripping his waist like an anchor are already doing all the talking. When you stop for a quick break, though, you have to face the heavy elephant in the room. And you don’t ask him for any promise – not out loud, at least.

With subtlety, you lean down and pick up a couple of pretty Forget me not.

He doesn’t say much. His gaze is tender, his eyes a bit melancholic. His soft, long hand gently holds the one that’s handing him the flowers.

He takes one and clumsily tucks it in your hair.

There’s this particular silver locket he has once bought on a morning he decided to skip school with Sam and they wandered through some flea market. When he wakes up the next day, he puts one of the small, crumpled token of your affection – so intense you couldn’t dare to put it into words – in it and you can bet he doesn’t take it off. Ever. Not even to shower.

A couple of months pass by and he actually gets the opportunity to prolong his staying in the captivating city he has longed for ever since he was a kid. You’ve heard that from Robin one morning, while visiting her to discuss the building of a new barn. It’s not like you’ve talked much ever since he has moved to Zuzu City.

You pretend your stomach isn’t full of butterflies as you casually ask for more informations. You’re genuinely happy for him, aren’t you? Despite your bitter, conflicted feelings towards him, you care about Sebastian.

So when one evening, while coming back from an exhausting day in the mines, you find him waiting for you leaning against his bike, you don’t understand why you feel so helplessly happy to the point of crying.

He had discovered he prefers the quietness of the valley… and you.

“See, I couldn’t forget you.”

Sam:

Sometimes Samson can be a bit of an adorable dumbass, with his dorky attitude and golden retriever tendencies, but we know he absolutely rocks as an older brother.

Since Kent is fighting on the front line and Jodi has so much on her plate, he gladly takes on the role of a parental figure for Vincent. Also, he’s absolutely weak to that round, freckled face.

His day off from his awful job at JojaMart is on Sunday. He usually rests during the morning, but he doesn’t like to spend the whole day at home, no matter how tired he is.

One Sunday morning, though, he finds little Vincent sulking at the kitchen table, his round eyes full of tears that he’s trying so hard not to spill, only to let them all out as soon as he sees his big brother.

It’s not like him throwing a tantrum, but Jodi has promised to take him and Jas to a little outing to the lake that day. Just, something came up and she can’t take them anymore. Despite them being responsible kids (also read: despite Jas being a responsible kid), Jodi really can’t let him go with a light heart. And it’s not like she can ask Sam, right? It’s his free day, he works so hard at JojaMart-

Well, have I already told you that he can’t resist his little brother? Besides, every occasion is good to show off and demonstrate how cool he is, not like other boring adults. So, despite being tired from stocking the shelves and cleaning the floors all week, he takes his brother and Shane’s niece to the lake.

Passed Seb’s house, Sam discovers that a certain someone had planned to spend their Sunday at the lake, too, and he can’t stop thanking his lucky star. He almost trips over himself as he sets the blanket on the grass and invites you to join their arranged picnic, but you accept gleefully and even promise the kids you will teach them how to use the fishing rod Willy gifted you later.

You spend the afternoon watching the kids together and chatting.

At some point, after tiring themselves out for the whole afternoon, Vincent and Jas invade your little lovely picture with a bunch of flowers they’ve picked on the shore. With graceful mastery, you show them how to make crowns out of the pretty flowers they’ve picked and they immediately get to work under your amused gaze.

You pick some of the flowers, too, and as the conversation flows you start weaving them quickly, your eyes falling only sometimes to your hands to check how it’s turning out. Sam doesn’t think too much of it; despite feeling a bit awkward at first, the words are now flowing out of his mouth smoothly. You feel overwhelmed by his energy, but you find it contagious, so you can’t really complain.

He stops talking – nervous as he is, he needed just a little push to completely lose himself – when you place the crown made of little white flowers on his blond hair.

He laughs, hard, asking you if he looks pretty. Despite it being a casual gesture, something you found yourself doing in the situation, he takes it to his heart to make a crown for you as well. And so, you try to teach him, your fingers casually – it’s not like you have a crush on the dork, no – brushing against his guitarist’s ones twice as necessary.

If the kids were struggling, he struggles twice. He should find it easy, shouldn’t he? He plucks the strings of his guitar for hours with great skill, but the flowers keep breaking or losing petals in his hands. He’s not frustrated though, because you’re there to patiently help him learn from his mistakes.

In the end, he manages to make an… acceptable-looking crown for you and you pretend to not notice the adoring look in his blue eyes when he reverently places it on top of your head, or how it’s making your face heat up.

While Jas and Vincent blast your ears off about how they’re going to make crowns for everyone at the next Flower Dance, you take a look at a very sleepy Sam, leaning against the trunk of a tree.

His crown is crooked. You fix it gently as he boldly searches for your hand. You intertwine your pinkies like two kids, your hands kept a secret by the shadow of the tree as he drifts off to sleep.

“You weren’t in bed.”

Sebastian sighs. “I… I couldn’t sleep. And this client is a pain in my ass.”

“Oh, but I’m pretty sure your client is sleeping soundly next to his wife right now.” you muttered in a tone that didn’t leave any room for protests or remarks.

“Again, pumpkin?” he turns slightly around on his chair to look at you, using his body weight to move the wheels and roteate it. “You’re sulking because I was not in bed with you?”

This is an argument you’ve been having often over the course of the past few weeks. You’re aware you can’t force him to sleep if sleep doesn’t come by itself, but he could at least stop ruining his eyesight at the computer every night.

A part of you, though, simply craves his affection. Sleeping without him by your side makes you feel incomplete, like something is missing. Like you’re hugging a plushie and it suddenly falls off the bed while you move around in your sleep.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “We’ll never be able to compromise, huh?”

Sebastian lets out a soft sigh and looks at the time. The last thing he wants is to upset you - he might not be open about it, but he’s weak to you. And he knows a big part of what you like about marriage is the fact you can snuggle up to him whenever you feel like it. The farm is so big and it can get lonely easily, so it wasn’t that rare for you to get needy in the middle of the night when you were still dating, missing him even if he lived a ten minutes walk away from your house.

“I suppose it is late.” He grabs the empty mug on the desk, a trace of coffee still lingering at the bottom. “And I’ve run out of coffee.”

“Sebastian, really?“

“I said I’m not sleepy, not that I’m not tired.”

“Why do you drink coffee during the night then?” you sigh. “It feels like you’re the one bringing this upon yourself, dear.”

“I just— I just have troubles sleeping.”

“And the solution is caffeine?”

“I just don’t want to close my eyes!” he suddenly snaps, turning the harmless bickering into something a little bit more serious. It’s subtle, but it’s there; the matrix of his problem with sleeping.

Your eyes soften. The topic of nightmares has came up many times before, but it was way too uncomfortable for him to linger on it. He’s always been like this - so used to being ignored and to think the people around him don’t care that he’d rather search for a refuge in his shell than to open up. But you try to remind him that things can’t always be smooth and that you married him because you wanted to be by his side even when he has troubles sleeping, when you bicker, when he feels like hiding away.

“Is it the nightmares again?”

Sebastian runs a hand through his dark strands. He knows there’s no point in hiding it anymore. “Yes. Yes, it’s the nightmares again.”

“What about the drops Harvey prescribed you?”

“They manage to soothe me… to a certain extent. But it all comes out as soon as I close my eyes. I— I’m tired, believe me, pumpkin. I’m tired.”

Even though he hides it behind a cool façade, you’re aware Sebastian is an highly anxious individual. You’ve noticed many times how in your marriage he does his best not to burden you, to the point of harming himself. He mulls over things more than it’s necessary to and even though he’s finally feeling motivated to get out of his comfort zone every once in a while, on the hard days the simple thought of doing it scares him.

It breaks your heart.

“Okay.” you sigh. “Okay, why don’t we have some tea in the kitchen?”

“Sugar, you should really go to bed. You have to be up in three hours.”

You want to tell him that you probably won’t be able to get back to sleep knowing the state he’s in, but you keep that thought to yourself. The last thing you want is to make him blame himself for your lack of sleep. “I baked some blueberry pie yesterday and now I kind of crave a slice. C’mon, Sebby.”

He sighs and you wait as he turns off his computer. Quietly grabbing his hand, your fingers merely intertwined, you guide him to the kitchen and turn on the light. Putting the water to boil, you make sure your eyes don’t leave his silhouette for more than a couple of seconds. Creepy, maybe, but it’s not like he’s the type of guy to come clean about his own troubles spontaneously.

You cut two slices of the blueberry pie and place one plate in front of him on the table, then you start rubbing his sore shoulders in an attempt to relieve the tension in his body. Blood rushes to your face when you put your soothing hands to work and feel his delicate body under your fingers. You’ve been married for a while now, but he still manages to make you feel effortlessly dizzy.

“Is it getting bad again?” you ask.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s getting bad again. Maybe it had never gotten better in the first place.” he grumbles, his eyes glued to the pie in front of him. It looks delicious, but he’s not hungry.

“Maybe Harvey could prescribe you something else.”

“I feel like a guinea pig.” there’s a hint of frustration in his voice and you can’t really blame him for it. “It’s the third time I change my sleep medication.”

You exhale softly. His tone is a bit harsh, but you keep in mind that his frustration isn’t directly related to you. You’re the reason why he opens up. And opening up isn’t always easy.

The room falls into a deep, reflexive atmosphere as you both mull over the situation. He takes a couple of bites of the pie, if anything to avoid upsetting you, but he knows it will taste much better in the morning, when his mood - he hopes - won’t be this sour anymore. Your hands leave his shoulders as the water finally starts boiling on the stove. You take the boiler off the heat and pour the water into two matching mugs.

“Pumpkin and ginger tea, yeah?” you ask to fill the silence in the kitchen.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Now sitting down in front of him, you take his free hand in yours and bring it to your lips, softly placing a reverent kiss on his pale skin. He looks up at you furtively, the intimacy between you still an unspoken precious glimmer of innocence. It’s still so new to be loved.

He loved his family dearly, but he always felt like a black sheep in it. He didn’t expect anything from Demetrius and he’s now able to acknowledge that he was probably doing his best to be a good step-father. It doesn’t mean the lack of care, or rather the inattention towards him, hasn’t left a scar on him. He was used to move around the house in complete silence, his voice unheard. He was like a cat crying for attention, but he was never loud enough to be considered.

He’s been raised to feel like an unwanted guest. And the more he thinks about it, the more he realises the nightmares might not be completely unrelated to his condition. When you spend your entire existence bottling things up, they are going to haunt you or to get out of you in one way or another.

“I was wondering…” you remove your hand from his and place both palms around the hot mug. “What are the nightmares about this time?”

“…nothing deep, really. Just… you know, people I trust doing weird stuff. Betraying me. Other people smiling wickedly. What are they even smiling for?”

“Does that include me?”

He sighs, unable to escape from the harsh truth and the pain of subjecting you to it. “Sometimes, yeah. But I know I can trust you.” he quickly adds in an attempt to sugarcoat it.

“Consciously, yeah. But I know it’s not easy, Sebby, to… to let go of your fears and trust people around you.”

“Wait, aren’t you mad? You’re my spouse. I’m supposed to trust you.”

“You put great effort in it.” you crack a smile but avoid his gaze. “I know it’s not easy and I appreciate it. But I know it’s hard to do it… unconditionally, you know?”

Sebastian knows that you had it rough, too, before coming to Pelican Town. Conversations like this are uncomfortable for the both of you, but the way you keep pushing yourself forward together just shows how strong the bond between you actually is.

“I don’t think there’s a real medicine for that.” he takes a sip of his tea and his next words sound like a quiet breath of the wind. It hurts to hear them from your beloved, but you chug down the pain. “I think I’m broken.”

“You’re not. If you are, let me complete you.”

“Hah. So cheesy, aren’t you?”

Finally your eyes meet and you exchange a smile. You must look like crap right now and you’ll probably look like that even more when your alarm will go off in a couple of hours, but he still looks at you as if you were a gift crafted and placed upon this Earth just for him, like a shiny frozen tear. You’re like a soothing balm for his soul, a safe place where he can always return without feeling like a guest or a ghost. His steps can be heavy, his laughter can be loud. He is allowed to exist without measuring the space he deserves. Without wondering if he deserves the slice of pie or the pumpkin soup you make for him when he’s sick - and it happens very often.

“You know, there’s still a path we haven’t considered. Harvey mentioned it briefly, but if your troubles are related to something a bit more serious than the simple fact of having nightmares… he has a friend in Zuzu City.”

Sebastian looks up at you, mulling over your words. He has considered this option before, but he was afraid you or his family would judge him. “You mean, a therapist?”

“Yeah. Yeah, a therapist. You don’t find it weird, do you?”

“I don’t. But this place is so small. My mother will overreact when I’ll tell her.”

“Then we won’t tell her until you feel ready. But, babe, I want you to know that you can make your own decisions without fearing these might weigh on other people.” you hold his hand again, this time with some more urgency. “You are allowed to be… selfish.”

“Am I?” he asks and you know it’s not a rhetorical question. He looks genuinely surprised, although you’ve had this discussion so many times before even getting engaged.

“Yes, Seb, you are allowed to have a saying. To make decisions. To live in a space that’s not measured based on other people’s needs. Please, even when it comes to me, do not be afraid to ask for more.”

You squeeze his hand. “I married you because I love you. Because you fill me up. You’re not a brief presence in my peripheral vision - you are the actual apple of my eye.”

Sebastian doesn’t cry often. He’s used to keep that inside himself, too. But the sound that leaves his mouth, initially muffled by his own palm, resembles the moan of a whale that can see no companion around it other than the vast sea. You get up, your arms circling his body once again as you let him break down in the little, comforting space between your neck and shoulder, a place he’s entitled to, that’s all for him to find solace in.

After a while, as he dries his tears with his sleeve, you put the two - now cold - mugs in the sink and the pie in the fridge. All that crying made him finally sleepy and now he just longs to be engulfed by your warmth.

When you drag him back to bed, he seems to be in a much better mood than he was when he was forcing himself to stay awake and work.

“Mmh… you’re soft.” he whispers, placing his head on your chest.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Not telling.”

His voice is hoarse, tiredness already taking over. But he manages to croak a few more words before drifting off to sleep. “I love you too, pumpkin. Tomorrow morning I’ll call Harvey and ask him for his friend’s number.”