#fuerrziah

The song of the waves echoed sweetly in Beau‘s ear. Willy had gifted him this crappy fishing rod some time ago, but it was better than nothing. Fish always got him decent coin and he was too lazy to craft a newer one.

The rusty flakes of the handle chipped away with every strong gust of wind. Some landed in the farmer‘s long hair, but he barely acknowledged it.

It was close to midday. Last time he checked the time it was around 10:00, but that was after leaving his farm.

His red eyes couldn‘t help but dart to the shack sitting peacefully on the sand while he prepared the bait.

Beau wouldn‘t admit it to anyone, but he had a different reason to be there almost daily. Even if just for a quick wave or a short glance.

It was worth it every time.

Still too early, he thought, as he stretched his back while preparing to throw the line. The spring flower scented air swirled in his nose and mixed well with the oddly comforting salty mist that prickled his cheeks.

His skin glistening with kind droplets, Beau took a strong step back and hurled the fishing line into the water.

Knowing that the fish here usually took some time to notice free food above their heads, the farmer plopped himself down on the dock and let his legs swing above the soapy water.

Staring at the horizon, he felt a yawn tickle the back of his throat and he allowed himself to let out a loud sigh. He hadn‘t slept well. Some nights had been better than others, but the vile voices had won last night. It was difficult to feel at home in Stardew Valley, yet. The only real comfort he got was Miso and the girls in the Valley. And the nice conversations with someone in particular.

After what felt like an hour, Beau‘s stomach began to growl. He forgot to eat breakfast. He stared down at bit more impatiently at the slack line bobbing on the water‘s surface. He could make out a few fish shadows that rudely ignored his bait.

A particular one seemed to stare at the bobbing treat for a while until hastily turning away and swimming deeper into the blue hue.

„Asshole…“ Beau let out as he watched the tease.

„No luck today?“

A hot shiver snaked its way up the farmer‘s back, making him jolt and almost lose his grip on the fishing rod. He had already recognized the deep, sweet voice but turned anyway to gaze upon the one he had hoped to run into.

Elliott stood on the edge of the dock, a few long steps away from Beau, and waved kindly while the strong wind swept his luscious red hair to one side.

How can he look so good with messed up hair?

He realized he had been staring without answering: „Uh- nope. The fish don‘t seem that pleased with the cheap bait I made.“

Elliott gazed at the sunshine speckling the water. Beau tore his eyes away from the writer and pretended to fiddle with the line as he felt another yawn escape him. He tried to hide it in his sleeve. As he haphazardly pretended to busy his hands, Elliott walked towards the farmer.

Planting himself quite close, the redhead left his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath. The sound of his exhale gave Beau goosebumps.

„You look weary, dear Beau. How about we meet at the Saloon later for a few hearty laughs with fine ale“ Elliott suggested, his calm exterior hiding the internal fireworks.

„SURE!“ the farmer answered a bit too loudly and quickly. Beau‘s face felt like lava. He was both weary and exhausted. His energy had been at half its volume the entire morning. He really just wanted sleep. But he couldn‘t pass up a chance to hang out with that hunk of a man again. It was always a good time.

Elliott chuckled: „I‘m looking forward to it then. I‘ll probably head over there around 4. See you then?“

Beau nodded hastily, while he was internally calculating if he had enough time to take a nap, shower, find food and eat something. His chickens needed food too.

Elliott smiled down at him, secretly clenching his fists in triumph, and then ventured back towards the beach walkway up to town, most likely on his way to the library.

When the writer was out of his frame of vision, Beau frantically packed everything together, leaving the rod in the water. At that moment, he felt a sharp tug.

„Oh for fuck‘s sake, NOW you bite?!“

Taking it as the taunt that it was, he dropped his bag and tensed his muscles to pull it in.

„You‘re not getting away!“ he growled at the fat fish tht writhed under the surface. It wasn‘t letting up so easily. It thrashed and wiggled trying to escape, but he was determined to at least throw something into the Shipping Bin today. The tug of war strained his muscles, but he clenched his thighs and biceps with one final pull, yanking the big halibut out from the splashing ocean. It jittered feebly and Beau let out a loud „HAH!“ when he held in his hand from its fin.

A flash of Elliott‘s face across his mind made Beau shriek quietly and remember he needed to get ready. Hastily packing everything up with the fresh halibut in his hand, the farmer ran back towards his farm.

———

The nap hadn‘t really happened. He barely got a few minutes in before remembering all the things he needed to do before going to meet Elliott. He still needed to put the harvested strawberries in the preserves jars so that they would be ready for Gus in a few weeks. He had forgotten that Robin had ordered a ton of stone that needed to be delivered today of all days, so he would need to do a whole round through the Valley to meet the deadline and still make it in time to the Saloon.

Beau now quickly shaved the bits of stubble on his chin, while his towel clung for dear life around his hips. Hair still damp, he attempted to brush it, but it kept getting caught on some knots. Brushing more aggressively while inventing new swear words, he finally managed to make it look somewhat presentable. It would dry quickly anyway while walking.

Running to his closet, he was briefly frozen in front of it unsure what to wear that wouldn‘t look too disheveled. Briefly experimenting with new combinations in the mirror, he threw the ideas on the ground and settled for his regular set.

Pants half on, Beau skipped towards the door, avoiding Miso who lay on the warm wood by jumping to the side. Her eyes slowly followed his movements keeping her head comfortably nestled on her paws, somewhat judgmentally.

„Sorry, Miso-„ Beau grunted with his shirt in his mouth while he buttoned his pants. Throwing the shirt and jacket on, the farmer ran to his fruit chests by the house, picked up as many strawberries as he could carry, threw them haphazardly into the preserves jars, ran to the coop to open the door so the chickens could eat and then continued towards the pile of stone he had freshly mined the day before. Stuffing them without counting into this bag, he glanced at the clock to see a scathing 3:30 pm appear on its face.

„Fuck!!!“

Jumping to his feet while flinging the backpack onto his back, Beau ran up to the side passage leading towards the mountains.

Sprinting with exhausted limbs and an empty stomach (he forgot to eat), he made it to Robin‘s Shop. He opened the door with such force, that it banged against the wall.

„Beau!? Wha-“ Robin attempted to speak.

„Here!“ The hectic farmer began unloading the stones onto her desk. Not waiting for a reply (and forgetting his payment), he turned on his heels and bolted back out the door, leaving an extremely confused carpenter yelling after him to collect his reward.

Beau tripped over a rock but caught himself quickly while dashing down the mountain to reach town. People passing him tried to greet him, but were met with a gaspy: „No time!“ while he continued panting down the road.

———

Elliott stood at a high table, scribbling frantically on a small piece of paper. He crossed everything out and grunted at the continues disappointment in his own writing.

Gus eyed the pile of scrunched up paper on the floor beside the distraught red head, but chose to wait if he would actually leave it there. Usually, the writer was more considerate than that. Something seemed to preoccupy him today. Cleaning a glass carefully, he watched Elliott vigorously scratch out another line and then exhale loudly with an exasperated „Come on!“

The saloon owner watched Elliott take another huge sip of his drink.

In that moment the door burst open rather inelegantly. Beau stood in the door way, the green hair wild from the wind and letting it air dry. Gus blinked, noticing Elliott‘s sudden straight back and swift hiding of the sea of papers by letting his jacket fall on the floor. Realizing why the writer was so desperate to finish in time, the saloon owner began moving towards the side of the bar where Elliott was seated; to clean of course.

Beau panted a bit, his eyes pulled like magnets to Elliott‘s red hair.

He felt his knees shake at the sight of him: he sat so properly with that gorgeous smile and luscious locks, directing that beam at the farmer. Beau felt unworthy of his attention, but he couldn‘t help but want to be close.

„Beau!“ Elliott called sweetly, waving towards the high table, invitingly. Gus watched the writer kick his jacket a bit further under the big curtain next to him.

Beau was breathless and attempted to squeeze out of a response while walking towards his friend, but his throat gave up. Reaching the table, he coughed briefly into his closed fist and joined the smiling writer.

Elliott looked over at the bar, where Gus pretended to be particularly interested in his coffee machine which he wasn‘t using at this moment. Seeing the writer looking his way, he met his gaze.

„Another round for me, Gus! And uh…“ Elliott looked back at Beau who blushed uncontrollably, „you prefer wine right?“

Beau nodded and called to the bar keep: „Red wine for me!“ Gus nodded and went on to prepare the drinks.

The farmer was dead tired and running on an empty stomach. This could only go well.

Elliott and Beau talked about daily chit chat things, which would normally bore the farmer to death. But with him, sharing these small insignificant details about life felt strangely comforting. He just had a way of turning the mundane into magic with the way he spoke about things. Beau could listen to him for hours and Elliott, oddly, loved hearing about the farming shenanigans he got up to. He was always particularly fascinating by Beau‘s mining stories.

„And you truly don‘t feel frightened down there? In the dark?“ Elliott asked with a sweet viridescent twinkle in his eye.

Beau chuckled: „Not really. I have my sword and I found a ring that emits a good amount of light, so it‘s never too. The zombies surprise attack me sometimes, but they’re pretty slow. Cause you know… they‘re zombies…“

They shared a laugh, taking another swig of their drinks together. Beau already felt lightheaded. The air felt fuzzy and warm, the tender voice of his table companion making his body simultaneously tense up and relax at the same time.

„You‘re so brave, I could never venture down there…“ Elliott looked up from his pint, a particular stare that Beau had noticed before. His eyes wandered from the farmer‘s eyes down his arms and across the chest. It was only for a brief moment, but it made Beau feel dizzy. He was probably imagining it, wishful thinking. He was tipsy anyway. Everything sounds like flirting when you‘re inebriated. He tried to mimic Elliott’s sultry stare just in case he was flirting, but one of his eyes twitched uncontrollably from exhaustion, so he stopped trying and kept his focus on his glas.

„More stupid, than brave.“ Beau replied jokingly, while swirling the red liquid in his glas.

Stupid. A familiar insult he was trying to reclaim for himself.

Elliott‘s eyes immediately widened in response.

„Oh no, Beau! Please don‘t say such things. You‘re not stupid at all.“

It happened so suddenly. Elliott‘s soft hand rested on Beau‘s and they both stared at the sudden impact.

Beau could feel his cheeks burning up and noticed the same happening on the writer‘s. They didn‘t notice, but Gus had paused his cleaning and remained frozen, just like they were as well.

„Ah!“ Elliott took his hand away suddenly. „I apologize, I - uh didn‘t want to -„

Beau wasn‘t sure what to do. He liked it. Loved it actually. But Elliott‘s fast recoil confused him.

„It‘s fine, don‘t worry about it“ Beau tried to sound calm but the hoarseness in his voice gave away his nerves.

Not knowing what else to answer, Beau chugged the rest of his wine and waved weirdly to Gus for another one.

Elliott seemed to be fiddling with a scrunched up paper in his lap, cheeks still a peachy hue.

„So uhm… Beau, we‘ve been hanging out a lot and uh…“ Gus came over and replaced the empty glas of wine with a new one. He seemed to take his sweet time returning to the bar.

The paper crunched again. Beau wasn’t sure if he was opening or closing it. In any case, Elliott seemed to be particularly fascinated with his own lap.

„You see… I really...“ He paused again, his head jolting down again, rereading what he had written apparently. His face was turning purple now.

Beau‘s grip on the glas was so tight, he was terrified it would break in half. What was he trying to say?

Elliott gulped. Gus hadn‘t moved. He was fixed in his „walking away“ position.

The door burst open again and some more towns people wandered it, immediately increasing the tranquil volume of the Saloon.

The kids walked in, as well. Abigail spotted Beau and waved frantically. She started towards their table.

Elliott, seeing that she was approaching, sighed.

„Nevermind.“

Beau‘s entire body slumped. Elliott couldn‘t look him in the eye, disappointment clearly visible on his serious face as he chugged more from his pint, requesting another.

Gus shook his head and finally returned to his station to prepare the writer‘s drink and take new orders.

Abigail reached them and made the rest of her friends join her, not realizing the moment they had interrupted.

They sat around Beau and Elliott, telling them about their newest song, while Abigail asked about any cool stones Beau might‘ve found in the mines recently.

———

Hours passed, the Saloon filling up even more. Beau and Elliott kept drinking, not being able to hold their personal conversation here and deciding to drown that fact with more liquor.

Still, they laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. Even after a frustrating start, being near each other always felt strangely like home. A home in a homeless place. At least it did for Beau.

But they were smashed. Walking out of the Saloon, it suddenly hit Beau how drunk he actually was. Did the lamp posts always have three bulbs?

Stumbling, the two of them decided some fresh ocean air would help them both stand a bit straighter.

Struggling to walk normal in the sand, Elliott held his belly from laughing so hard while Beau walked like a dizzy flamingo towards the water.

Looking back, having finally reached the dock and hearing the comforting waves, Elliott had joined him wiping tears of laughter from his eye. Beau tried to take his shoes off, but fell over.

Elliott grabbed Beau‘s arm and pulled him back to a standing position, giggling still.

„Careful there. Are you alright?“ he asked.

Beau tried to focus on his handsome face. Seeing three of them wasn‘t that bad actually.

„Fine and dancy~“ he replied.

Elliott was still holding onto his arm. Letting go slowly, he looked up to the night sky and took a deep and slow breath. He turned away, looking into the distance. The stars twinkled on the water‘s surface. Beau wanted him to hold his arm again, mostly for stability because he couldn‘t stand straight, but also because it was nice to feel his touch.

Elliott seemed more stable. Probably because he hadn‘t drunk on an empty stomach.

„Beau…“ Elliott said gently, still looking out towards the ocean.

„Yessir~“

What the fuck was that? Say something normal.

Elliott chuckled cutely. Catching himself again, he pulled a paper out of his pocket. He looked at it briefly, then put it away again.

„A heaven on earth I have won by knowing thee…so are thou to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground…“

There was a brief pause. Beau wasn‘t sure what to reply to that. His sober brain knew it meant something profoundly sweet, but the wine made it difficult to understand.

„Thee? Am I a king or something now?“ He noticed the world spinning a bit too fast. It was hard to stand still. He caught himself from falling backwards, edging closer to the dock‘s end.

Elliott laughed again. His eyes finally moving away from the ocean, he looked at the farmer with a tenderness Beau wasn‘t sure what to do with. Although he was clearly blushing, something seemed to be giving him courage this time.

„Shakespeare does have a way to alienate. I have been trying for weeks to write out my own words, but nothing came close to his...“

Elliott turned himself towards Beau, taking his hands out of his pockets. He fidgeted a bit with his jacket.

„I…really enjoy being in your presence, Beau. I haven‘t felt this way before…you‘re just… so easy to talk to. I don‘t want anything to ruin what we have so I‘m struggling to- uhm…“

Elliott gulped once again. The tension in Beau’s muscles convulsed as he heard his heart beating so fast, it might burst. Was this a confession?

Taking another deep breath, he finally stared intently into Beau‘s eyes:

„I have a bouquet in my shack. I want to give it to you.“

There was an eruption of glee within Beau‘s chest. An unstoppable need to say everything at once. He had wanted this ever since he‘d met the writer here on the beach. But Elliott had prepared a sweet speech and written stuff about him for weeks?! He bought a bouquet for him?!?!?! For him?!?

Beau felt his body fall backwards, he had tried to catch himself from falling and unknowingly took a step into thin air. Not realizing he was actually falling into the ocean, Beau exclaimed:

„YOU ARE SO FUCKING HANDSOME!!!“

Water crashed into his ears. Silence encompassed his entire body as he sank deeply into the dark ocean. Instinctively kicking his feet, he tried to breach the surface, but he was confused which way was up.

A slight panic gripped him as he thrashed about in many directions. The residual air quickly depleting his lungs from the fear of drowning.

A strong hand wrapped around his flailing arm. With a sharp tug, he suddenly broke out of the crushing depths and took a harsh inhale of fresh air.

Elliott pulled Beau back onto the sand, his wet red hair sticking to his neck. Beau coughed aggressively, spitting out water. The sobering event making his thoughts a bit clearer, he sat up quickly and was met with Elliott‘s face right up close.

„YOU LIKE ME?!“

Elliott coughed a bit while he laughed once more at the comical priorities Beau had: „Yes, I really do…“

Beau couldn‘t believe it. Was he dreaming and actually snoring in his bed? Had this whole day actually happened?

Realizing Elliott was checking him for injuries, Beau took the writer‘s hand into his own. They were both now new colors of deep red.

„I‘m fine. Sorry about that.“ He kept his hand in his grasp. The world wasn‘t spinning that much anymore. They were so close, like never before. Foreheads were almost touching and Beau could smell the sweet and sour scent of ale from the writer‘s mouth.

„You think I‘m handsome?“ Elliott purred, lips so close they had their own gravitational pull.

Beau nodded. His eyes flickered between Elliott‘s and the lips drawing closer.

Giving in, Beau let his head tilt forward and their lips finally collided.

At first it was soft and hesitant, both feeling each other out. Briefly releasing, Elliott fell forward again, deepening the kiss into a more firm and longing one, which Beau responded in kind. The kiss grew hungrier the more their lips met, as their bodies pressed into one another. Elliott snuck his leg under Beau‘s, forcing his hips to open slightly.

Elliott released, breathing heavily: „Is this.. ok?“

Beau nodded immediately and quickly, not wanting his lips to be apart from the writer‘s. They reconnected again, sinking deeper into the cold sand the more they writhed within each other‘s embrace.

Feeling the chill of the night‘s air surrounding them, Beau placed his hand on Elliott‘s cheek and stared into the gorgeous green eyes that sparkled back at him.

„Wanna go someplace warmer?“ he asked, feeling Elliott shake slightly.

Elliott laughed again and agreed. He stood up first, reaching his arm down to pull Beau up, which he did easily. Both walked with their arms around each other‘s waists towards Elliott‘s house, still peppering kisses on each other.

„I assume this means you‘ll accept the bouquet?“ he asked, somewhat jokingly.

Beau let his head rest on Elliott‘s shoulder, giggling as well:

„Of course, I was hoping you‘d give me one.“

———

Back at the Saloon, Gus was picking up the pile of papers left behind by Elliott.

Curiosity getting the better of him, the barkeeper opened up a particularly crumbled up one and read:

„Dearest Beau,

With every glance, inhibitions fade,

Your touch a promise that I‘ve made,

To be unmasked, unchained, unafraid,

In my tender love for you, courage I save.

With you, my muse, I‘ve found my end“