Yune

When I finally met you, it was in the caves. And the funny part is, you didn't even mean to save me. You were just doing your thing-- like always-- looking like the world didn't weigh a single ounce on your shoulders. I remember thinking, Who the hell is this person, and why are they smiling while dodging bats?

The next day, Mom formally introduced us at the shop. I don't know what came over me, but the first thing I asked you was why you picked such a lame place to live. You laughed like it didn't sting, but I regretted saying it almost immediately.

And well... my behavior didn't exactly improve after that.

"Hey, how are you?" You'd ask.

"I was thinking of not getting out of bed today. In fact, I almost didn't." I'd reply.

You blinked like you didn't know if I was joking. "Okay then...? Same, bro. Same."

I didn't hate you. I just resented you. Or maybe it was envy. You always look like you knew what you were doing. Like life hadn't carved any deep scars into you yet. People liked you. Trusted you. Nobody accused you of wasting potential or asked what you were doing with your life. Things just seemed to click into place for your and I hated that I didn't have whatever magic made that happen.

It was stupid. Childish. I am an adult. But there it was.

And then one day, I saw you up on the trail behind the carpenter's shop. You'd just left the store-- you tried to order something, but didn't have enough. You told my mom with that same cheerful voice that you'd be back another day.

But when you thought no one was watching, you sat down on that worn bench under the maple tree and cried. Quiet. Quick, like you were ashamed of even that.

And that was the moment. 

I realized you weren't' made of stardust and luck. You were figuring it out-- just like me. Just... better at pretending you weren't.

I guess I got it in my head that maybe, just maybe, I could do something small for you, for once. So I Brough you something. Thought it might cheer you up...

So I had a grand idea. I'd bring you something to cheer you up. We'd talked quite a few times. I was always a little salty, yeah, I'll admit it. But I'd almost consider us friends. Maybe more than acquaintances. Either way, I thought-- this'll be nice. This'll make your day.

And of course, was always, things had a way of going wrong.

The basket hit the ground before I even realized I tripped. I stared in slow horror as the jar of homemade jam rolled straight into a mud puddle, the small cake-- Mom's special cinnamon one-- tumbled face-first, and the hand-picked wildflowers ended up looking like I'd dragged them behind a bike.

I crouched there, hand on my forehead, letting out this long sigh that came from somewhere ancient in my soul. Mud oozed across the note I'd written. Mom had even helped m tie a little bow around the thermos. She'd teased me the whole time too-- Calle dit a "not-a-date-date-gift." Now the bow was stuck to my boot.

And that's when I heard you.

Jogging down the path like something out of a studio Ghibli scene, hair bouncing, face bright with concern. "Are you okay?!"

I scrambled to look like I hadn't just absolutely beefed it. "Yeah. Totally. Just--just dropped it. No big deal. It's uh..." I gestured vaguely at the battlefield that was now my basket.

But you looked at the mess, then looked at me, and you started to cry.

I panicked. "Wait--hey--don't cry. It's not that bad--!"

You shook your head, wiping your eyes, and said "You came to see me. And brought me a gift. That's.... that's the first time anyone's done that in a long time."

I was ready to say something clever. Something comforting. But instead I stood there, blinking at you, my mouth kind of open like a trout.

"I always give everyone else gifts." You said, voice warbling a little, "But.... This is the first time someone's brought me something."

It felt....weird. You crying over a ruined gift. But also kind of beautiful.

So I shrugged and said, 'Well. I guess we're even. I gave you a soggy cake, and you gave me mild emotional trauma. Fair trade."

You snorted mid-sob, and that was when I knew you were oaky.

You invited me in. We sat at your little kitchen table drinking hot cocoa in these old, chipped mugs-- yours had a faced cartoon duck on it and mine said "Adventures Are Better Together." in a hideous font. The cocoa was too sweet, and I love edit.

You told me about your grandfather and how these mugs had been his favorite. That he used to make you hot chocolate whenever it stormed and tell you that life always tastes a little better when it's shared. 

Your house was warm and cluttered in the best kind of way. Lanterns hung on the wall, like they were waiting to be plucked for a journey. Tools were stacked neatly by the door, and a map half-drawn was spread across the table like an unfitted secret. It was like walking into someone's story.

You showed me your weapons collection next. I tried not to look too impressed. But come on. you had a boomerang knife.

I'd joked I'd duel you. you laughed and tossed me a wooden practice sword, saying, "You'd lose." I did. Twice. But I got a solid bruise in the shape of a chair leg, so it was worth it. Then I asked about your farm. Your whole face lit up like I'd just handed you the moon and a golden retriever puppy. So, much to my future regret, we trekked the entire thing.

The whole dang thing.

I saw every corner, every fence post, every slightly suspicious goat and aggressive chicken. You told me all their names. I remember "Sir Butterscotch" vividly, because he tried to eat my hoodie string.

By the time the sun started setting, my legs were on fire and I had hay in places it should never be. But I didn't complain. Not really.

The next morning, I was so sore I didn't even go to see Sam and Abby. Just laid in bed with ice packs and a deep, aching feeling that--- somehow-- I wouldn't have changed a thing.

Because that day, for the first time in a while, I felt like I'd stepped into someone's world... and been welcome to stay.

(Part two of this little story! Enjoy ^^)

The first time I saw you, you were waist-deep in the lake, fishing for your own stuff in the dark like it was the most normal thing in the world. You'd dropped it somehow-- I never found out the details-- but there you were: soaked to the knees, boots squelching, laughing like the whole thing was a punchline to a joke only you got. Even Linus couldn't fish out everything that night, but you didn't seem to mind. Not once did you complain. You just smiled and kept trying.

That's when you first caught my eye.

The next morning, I passed the lake again and saw Linus, still fishing around in the water. That was....weird. Linus doesn't really do favors. Or people. Except me, sometimes-- usually when I'm smoking and he's feeling philosophical. I always figured I was one of the rare exceptions.

But there he was, content as anything, digging around for the rest of your stuff like it was his mission from Yoba. That stuck with me. Who were you, that even Linus would go out of his way for you?

I figured eventually I'd meet you. Seemed inevitable in a town this small.

(A little Sebastian x Reader fic. Gender isn't specified for this one (if I remember correctly lol) and it's more platonic than anything. Please enjoy!)

The crickets were sining their cacophonous symphony proudly at the late hour, as if they were trying to win a talent show judged entirely by drunk gods and emotionally repressed woodland creatures. The night sky, ever the overachiever, glittered with constellations and lone stars— Orion flexing, Cassiopeia lounging dramatically, and that smug North Star twinkling like it knew something I didn’t.