#kitsu.sdv

Mundane; when something is lacking in excitement. 

Shane’s daily life surely fit the bill. Wake up hungover, take the same path to his shitty job, go to the bar for some drinks once he’s off, stumble on home to sleep, repeat. Rarely did he switch up this routine, and rarely did he enjoy doing so. 

He’s used to keeping his eyes on the ground as he walks, an attempt to block the rest of the world around him out of his senses so he can try to desperately find that little moment of peace. Lately, however, he’s been interrupted time and time again. 

Today, once again, there is the same voice calling out to him far too early in the morning for his tastes. A face only beginning to be familiar to him makes its way into his view; he instantly found his own face falling further into a scowl.  

“Hi there! Good morning, Shane!” 

“We are not friends. Stop calling out to me.” He huffed, shoving his hands further into his pockets and he picked up the pace, walking around them. “Leave me alone.” 

This became the ritual, their own little song and dance. The farmer would stand there in front of Pierre’s in the morning, call out a greeting, sometimes get in his way, and try to make friends. Shane would walk a little faster, try to side-step them, and ignore to the best of his abilities. It was irritating, and if he were honest... confusing. 

Why do they keep bothering him? Especially when he answers with his own spewed venom. Yet, day after day, he finds them in the same spot, smile brighter than the sun—blinding him with the light. It quickly fell into his routine, and he no longer bothered to overly react. 

“Good morning, Shane! Nice to see you!” 

“Yeah, whatever... mornin’.” He’d give a quick flick of his wrist in place of a wave to get them off his back. 

The days started to warm up, as did the feeling in his chest whenever he could just feel their presence coming up in his pathway. The melting of the ice around his heart wasn’t... unwelcome, just, new. Weird. Scary. 

Routine becomes comfortable, especially to a man who believes there’s no future on the horizon. His emotions were in turmoil, his thoughts just as muddled, but there was a bit of peace in the repetitive nature of it all; the empty, anxiety inducing fact that comes with change is heavy on him, however, once he gets comfortable. 

One morning, there is nothing but silence in front of the general store as he passes by; no need to side-step, no need to mind his pleasantries, no need to take his eyes off the ground. There is no comfort to be found bursting through the doors of Joja Mart during his shift, there is no comfort to be found stumbling through the doors of The Stardrop Saloon, and there is certainly no comfort to be found within the confines of his own bed sheets.  

He watches the dancing of branches shadows on his ceiling, trying to rid himself of this new feeling of emptiness in his chest. The void finds home within himself often, but something about this felt off. 

The next day, same song and dance; and the next, and the next. 

Like the coming of rain, Shane’s world returned to grey, a darker shadow cast across him than he was used to. The drops of water pelted against his skin, making him curl into himself; he could hardly see in front of him as he walked and splashed through the puddles with each step, the water never leaving his reach. Taking shelter never worked as the rain seemed to follow him indoors.  

Further and further he’d sink, melting into the puddles as they reached out to grab at his ankles and pull him in. The sky grew darker with each passing day, almost feeling as though it was night. Why did his world feel like this? What need did the void have in presenting itself as the storm above his head? What brought its presence in the first place? His chest twisted, his stomach flipped, his head would pound if he got too close to the right answer. 

Today, once again, there is the same sweet voice calling out to him at just the right time to make his morning. A smile as bright as the sun makes its way into his view; the clouds in the sky finally parting to house the life that was being breathed into him.  

This became the ritual, their own little song and dance. The farmer would bring the sun and place it straight into his chest, sing his name in a way no one else could, and bring the two of them closer and closer, fingertips brushing with one another. Shane would walk a little faster to catch up to them, try his hardest not to step on their toes as they swayed to the same song, and offer a smile that shined more like a star when rivaled to theirs. It was beautiful, and if he were honest... confusing. 

Thankfully, they kept bothering him. Choking on his own venom, he slowly tries his hand at words with honey. Luckily, day after day, he finds them in the same spot, smile brighter than the sun—gracing him with the light. It quickly fell into his routine, and he no longer wanted a single thing to change. 

“Good morning, Shane! Nice to see you!” 

“Yeah, good morning... Sweetheart.”  

If there was one thing Sebastian appreciated about Pelican Town, it was the quiet pitter patter of the rain; once it started down, Sebastian could feel the weight of the world wash off his shoulders. Well, there was another reason this little town was alright—he looked down to find a small amphibian friend hop over his boot. He smiled softly to himself. 

Crouching down, he hugged his knees to his chest, watching closely as another small frog friend hopped along after the other. A third hopped up to him, sitting calmly and staring up at Sebastian without so much as a little thought behind its eyes. He chuckled under his breath and reached out, petting its head carefully with his index finger. Opening his palm, Sebastian stood back up straight once his new travel buddy hopped aboard; the both of them travelled slow, soaking up all the rain had to offer—no destination in mind, simply two storm-bound souls heading through the light fog of the unknown. Sebastian cringed to himself when he thought about it. A bit too edgy even for him. 

Making it down the mountain, he stood around the town’s center for a bit, just simply looking around. Where was he going to go now? The beach? Head back up the mountain? Both options made sure he enjoyed the weather longer, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling a bit of unwelcomed loneliness.  

“Where do you wanna go, little guy?” Sebastian brought the frog to his eye level, making sure the little creature knew he was addressing him. 

Well, he hoped it knew he was addressing him. He brought him back down level to his chest. He looked around again, holding his hand out towards where he was suggesting. 

“Wanna head to the beach?” He spun around and held him out again towards the path back home, “Or do you wanna head back home?” 

After an embarrassingly long pause as he was, after all, talking to a frog—the small amphibian jumped from his hand and down a third, unspoken choice pathway. Sebastian couldn’t stop the smile that broke out across his face, accompanied by a warm blush. He took a few large steps to catch up before snatching his friend back up, heading down the path.  

“A nice choice, I guess.” He put up a front, though his words were weak against his smile. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice. I’m not lying, don’t look at me like that.” 

The frog in his hand sat staring up at him, croaking softly as though it were speaking with him. Maybe Sebastian had been alone a bit too long, or maybe the rain was making him sick and he was delusional. Maybe it was both—he didn’t know. He shook his head and put his hand back down to his side, letting his friend continue hanging out the rest of the way. 

So, Sebastian had lied. There may have been at least one more, third reason why Pelican Town wasn’t so bad—but it was only a fairly recent reason, so it didn’t count. He also wouldn’t say it out loud, so it didn’t count. Things only count if you speak them to the world, right? The collar of his hoodie started to feel a bit too tight the more he thought about it; he cleared his throat. 

The farm was looking great—a much better sight than the overgrown, abandoned lot that it had been before. He was in awe of just how well it was doing, and how hard the farmer had been working day in and day out; he didn’t think he had what it took, if he were honest. His eyes scanned the lot—dozens and dozens of rows of vegetables, a few fruits, some flowers sprinkled here and there. The drenched scarecrows stood tall, protecting their respective crops with pride; the crows hiding from the rain in the nearby trees cawed distastefully at them. Small lanterns had a soft glow piercing the fog to line the walkways the farmer had made to navigate. In the short distance, he could hear the soft moo’s from inside a barn and soft clucks from another. Something about it was very… comforting. Everything was so organized yet so unique that it spoke to the farmer’s personality; his chest started to swell with pride—because he was friends with this new farmer, of course—no other reason. Or, well, it’s what he told himself. He shook off the goofy grin he had and replaced it with his usual disinterested scowl and knocked on the door. 

“Oh—yes? Who is it?” A voice called from behind the door. “Sorry, my hands are a little full to open the door.” 

“It’s… Sebastian,” he hesitated. “Do you need… help?” 

“Sebastian!” Sebastian’s heart skipped a small beat at the excitement in their voice. “You can go ahead and come in! Careful though, it’s a bit messy!” 

He opened the front door and stood in the doorway; they weren’t kidding when they said it was a mess—or that their hands were full. A few broken jars of jam splattered across the floor looking like a horror movie scene—the front of them including their arms were just as messy. If the sweet smell of strawberries hadn’t hit him immediately, Sebastian might have thought differently. 

“Are you alright?” He started to worry with the amount of glass surrounding them. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”  

“Oh no, I’m fine! Just an annoying mess to clean up. What brings you out this way?” 

“Oh…” Sebastian looked around for a moment, avoiding their gaze. 

Why was he here again? Following a frog’s advice? He couldn’t say that. Should he just tell them he was missing them? No, that was a little too straightforward at the moment. ‘I wanted to see you’—too strong. ‘I was bored’—it works, sounds kind of rude though. Through his thoughts, he felt the farmer’s stare linger on him a bit too long; a shiver made its way down his spine, but it wasn’t from the rain. The tips of his ears burned a bit. 

“I…” he thought quickly, covering his amphibian friend with his other hand and held it out. “I found something to show you!” 

“Is… it a frog?” They tilted their head with a slight frown. 

Sebastian read their body language—it was clear they weren’t the biggest fans of his favourite little creature, but they were certainly trying to be nice. Was there a slight fear in their eyes? They stared hard at his hands, it almost felt like they were burning a hole into them. He quickly hid his hands behind his back and stepped out of the doorway onto the front porch. 

“I no longer have something to show you.” 

“Ah!” They threw their hands out in front of them, concern and regret evident on all of their features. “I’m so sorry Seb! You can go ahead and show me!” 

“No no, it’s fine.” He took another step backwards. “Don’t worry about it. There isn’t anything to show.”  

“Seb! Please show me your frog!” 

They quickly navigated through the broken glass, which Sebastian watched with bated breath. They continued making their way towards him before he realized; his eyes widened and he just as quickly jumped from the steps of the porch, making his way towards the nearest bush. 

“It’s nothing! I don’t have one! It wasn’t important, anyway.” He called over his shoulder. “Don’t come over here.” 

“It is important!” The closeness of their voice startled him, though not as much as them jumping onto his back had done. “It’s important to you—you like them! Please show me!”  

Sebastian stood still for a moment, hunched over and holding his hands far out in front of him to keep the frog out of the farmer’s reach. He wasn’t sure what to do—his heartbeat was in his ears and he looked like a deer in the headlights at this point. It was, however, pretty cute to watch them from the corner of his eye, so determined to reach his hands this way rather than trying to get down and around him; he smiled up at them and opened his hands to reveal the small frog—not a care in the world, not a thought in its eyes. It stared up at them both. 

“Oh.” They wheezed. “It’s… certainly… a frog.”  

“Isn’t it kinda cute?” 

“It’s…. certainly… a frog,” they repeated.  

Sebastian laughed this time, their indifference now seeming like a cute quirk rather than something dismissive in his eyes. They slid off his back and he crouched down near the bush, placing his hand close enough to the ground to encourage his little friend to hop off. It disappeared into the shadows of the greenery, and Sebastian stared and smiled after it for a while before he heard the farmer speak behind him again. 

“Thanks for coming to show me your frog,” they started, a smile beaming up at him once he stood again. “I like learning about what interests you.”  

He wasn’t sure what to say to something as sweet as that, so Sebastian stared at them a moment, mumbling out a thanks as he switched between playing with the collar of his hoodie and scratching the back of his neck. It was silent for a beat—the only sound the pitter patter of rain once again, the distance moo’s and clucks of animals sheltering from the weather. 

“Sorry,” the farmer broke the silence, “I forgot about the jam. It’s all over the back of your hoodie now.”  

They sheepishly gestured to their clothes—cleaner, but certainly not clean—and laughed a bit embarrassed. They gestured back to their open front door. 

“I might have an extra one—want to borrow it? I could wash that one for you.” 

“It’s fine,” Sebastian shrugged. “It’ll wash off in the rain.” 

“Oh yeah, the rain’s one of your favourites too—right? You gonna keep roaming around in it?” 

“Until I clean off now, yeah.”  

“Hmm…” they hummed. 

Wordlessly, they ran back to close their front door and return to him.  

“I’ll join you! An easier way to clean this off? I’ll take it.” 

Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing, but raised his eyebrow at them. 

“And your floor? What about that—” 

“It’s a problem for a different time. A different me.” They cut him off, holding a hand up as though they jokingly dismissed him. “What would you like to go do?” 

“Normally I just sit on the pier. Take in the atmosphere.”  

“Lead the way!” They grabbed his sleeve and tugged a bit, pulling him down the pathway.  

He sighed in disdain—though it were fake. His smile spoke differently for him, happy in their presence as they started to recount their day and mishap very dramatically. The two of them bumped into each other a few times on accident before they started to do it purposefully—playfully, flirty. After a short pause for breath, the farmer spoke out again. 

He was going to run a hole into the ground. 

The way Sebastian paced back and forth all day, there was no way there wasn’t a dip in the floor from where he had been. His feet were tired, but he couldn’t sit anywhere for very long. 

It wasn’t that he was bored or didn’t have anything to do. Really, he was thankful for the peace living on the farm had given him, it was a welcome day of rest. Or, should he say restless? He heaved a heavy sigh and got up from the couch to pace around the front room once again. 

The light of day had started fading, and the colours from the sky illuminated through the front windows. Even hues of gold couldn’t shine upon an answer for him; it was there, surely, painted in bright colours and shining lights, but he’d much rather turn his sights towards the unassuming darkness and question the shadows. The home had felt empty, and he had been perpetually cold; it didn’t take a genius to tell what was wrong—he had been restless because his spouse had left before he had woken up this morning and he hadn’t seen them all day—but he refused to admit this to himself. 

It was still a weird feeling, loving and being loved. Sebastian wasn’t sure what to make of it, really. He didn’t want to admit that he wanted—needed—someone. To hold them close, to share in their warmth, to feel wanted and safe while making sure they felt the same—all odd feelings and gestures on his end, at least. It was always stiff when he first started out, in their early days of dating. He got comfortable as time went on, of course, but what of marriage? It made him start over from the beginning, afraid of his feelings and of the Farmer’s-- after all, he had much more to lose now than he did then. 

It was new, welcomed, but new. Teaching old dogs new tricks was difficult, but he’d certainly been trying—the Farmer knew that—or, so Sebastian hoped they did. He wasn’t the best at showing them how he felt, but he surely did love them; never did he think he could be so... lovey dovey, so touchy feely, so... clingy. He didn’t want to admit these things; they made him cringe when he thought about actually doing it in practice rather than just in spirit. The feeling of wanting to run his fingers through their hair at the end of the day, to bury his head in the crook of their neck as they did anything in front of him, wanting to hold their hand during every waking moment of the day or kiss every inch of their skin he could get his lips on—he paused a moment to shake the thoughts out of his head. He didn’t need to be all over them, he could handle being on his own, to handle himself without need to hold their hand or hold them against him... or massage their shoulders after a hard day... or to gently wipe the dirt from their face before leaning in-- 

Sebastian shook his head once again to dispel the thoughts. He gave another heavy sigh and turned towards the front window, noticing now how the golden light had faded into a soft purple, the hints of orange illuminate enough to cast a long shadow down the farm's pathway. He rushed to the front door, embarrassingly, he thought, and opened it to find his spouse reaching the bottom of the porch's steps. They looked up to him and gave a big, loving smile without so much as a hint of exhaustion in their eyes when they found their way to his. 

“Hi Sebby! Did ya have a nice day?” 

“Mmm.” He grunted, still standing in the doorway. 

“’Mmm’,” They mocked playfully. “Sounds exhilarating. I, however, am tired.” 

They stretched out their back a moment before moving onto their arms, paying extra attention to the stretching of their shoulders. Sebastian watched carefully as they put down their equipment next to the steps and sat at the edge of the porch to rest their aching muscles; he quickly closed the door behind him and shuffled to stand awkwardly nearby them without saying a word. Embarrassing. Cringe-worthy, he thought to himself. How pathetic, he couldn’t help but think. Of course they just want to be alone and rest for a moment, they had been working so hard while all he did was pace around waiting for them like some lost puppy. 

The obsidian haired boy’s thoughts stopped in their tracks when he noticed them lean back on their hands and bend a bit backwards to look up at him. He blinked a few times to put himself back together and cleared his throat before speaking. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” 

“I asked what you were up to, silly.”  

“Oh... uh... nothing.” 

“Nothing?”  

“Nothing. Just standing here.” 

“Oh, well... alright then.”  

They continued staring at him; it was almost as if they could see straight through him and into his soul—maybe they saw all the turmoil brewing in his heart and mind all day. He was pretty sure they were a mind reader as soon as they spoke again. Or, maybe, they just knew him really well. 

“Overthinking today?” 

A split second of surprise on his end caused the Farmer to smile again; that damn smile was so warm, so loving, Sebastian thought he might melt into a puddle right there on the spot. Third time’s the charm as he sighed again, his chest now feeling tight as the knots in his heart grew larger. He stood there but couldn’t get himself to stand still; he shifted his weight from one foot to the other every handful of seconds while he tried to change the subject. 

“How was your day? Besides being tired, I mean.” 

His love gave him a pout, unconvinced about his subject change. He was glad they entertained him, though. 

“It was good; crops are growing well but I’m a little scuffed from the mines today.” 

“I told you to be careful and gear up when you went in there,” he bit his tongue and knit his brows together when he realized how venomous his words came out when he only meant to show concern. 

“Haha,” they simply closed their eyes and gave a toothy grin, “I know, I know.” 

Sebastian was lucky, he thought, that he had them. They could tell what his words mean, or lack thereof. In fact, he was just lucky in general that they had stayed with him regardless of how cold he was—he knew that. He was lucky he had everything—them, this house, the view. 

His eyes flicked between the setting sun on the horizon and the person sitting in front of him. The air was starting to chill just slightly, and the silence around them echoed but held no malice. He watched the gentle rise and fall of their shoulders from their levelled breathing, and how fixed their eyes were on the oncoming night. He wanted them, he thought, he wanted to simply bask in the warmth of their proximity and surely that would be enough love for him to live on for the rest of his days.  

Awkwardly and with an embarrassingly loud thud, Sebastian plopped down to sit on the step beside them. The silence remained, he thought he’d have to cut the tension with a knife; when he looked at their face, however... the exhaustion in the way the corners of their smile still soldier on and stand tall, the light of day slowly fading from the colour of their eyes, and the amount of love and appreciation for the life they get to live illuminating every curve of their features—everything was so breathtakingly beautiful. There was no tension, he had to realize and remind himself, there was only love poured into him day after day by the person who owned his entire world and held his very heart in their hands. How could he ever fret over feeling this way?  

There was no need for stiffness, he thought. No need for worry or for keeping up appearances. No need to burden himself and the Farmer with the shadows in his heart—not when they were there to hold the lantern with a smile so large they couldn’t keep their eyes open. He shifted and scooted over closer to them, almost hip to hip, before leaning his head against their shoulder. His heart raced and played a thrilling melody in his ears until the quiet laughter from under their breath played a new tune; they placed their head against his as well and interlaced their fingers with his, the warmth of their hand warming up his entire body as if the sun from their heart made its way through his veins. 

Or maybe it was the heat from blushing that spread across his body. Sebastian wasn’t so sure anymore, but he didn’t think about it too hard—or rather, he couldn’t think about it at all. The Farmer softly, as though he were going to break, ran their thumb over his—slowly, gently, a small action packed full of emotion and care that dispelled any and all shadows that clouded his mind.  

The night came out, but neither him nor his love made any movement to go inside. With all eyes closed, they simply existed with one another, warming the other up and creating their own space in the world. He got to place his heart in their hands at the end of each night and replace the hole in his chest with their own heartbeat. Sebastian felt happy—loved; he felt like he truly mattered in the world and that someone cared to have him in it.  

The night had grown cold, yet the space between Alex and the Farmer was lovingly warm. 

Alex partially sat up in their bed, leaning on an elbow and letting his head rest on the palm of his hand. His eyes danced around their face, taking in every inch of how beautiful their face looked underneath the slimmer of moonlight that graced their presence through their window. He smiled to himself. 

Their date replayed through his mind; private dinner at the saloon, a nice, slow walk along the beach, a little stargazing, and a lot of good talks all around. To round out the night, they cuddled together in bed and took turns telling each other the silliest story they could think of—he could still hear their voice speaking slow as they gently drifted off to sleep—such a lovely sound.  

He was lucky, he thought. He was lucky to have them—foolish of him to ever turn a blind eye to them when they first moved to Pelican Town—but lucky they had knocked some sense into him and his ego. He could admit, he was less than welcoming—no depth to conversations and talking only about himself—but once he finally looked past his love for gridball, he quickly found other meaning in his life. 

It was sort of scary, he thought. To suddenly care so deeply about someone else and have your whole life flipped upside down. He couldn’t help himself, however, and smiled even more lovingly at his sleeping partner beside him as he softly whispered in the night.  

“It really is scary,” he started, finishing out his thoughts. “How quickly my life changed when you came around. How was I supposed to keep up?”  

Alex carefully brushed stray strands of hair away from the Farmer’s face, keeping the physical contact going by gently running the back of his finger against their cheek before moving to let his fingers dance up and down their arm. Something about the silence in the dead of night makes a man much braver to speak his mind, Alex thought, and quietly cleared his throat to speak again. 

“I’ve been lucky to have you,” the whispers cut the silence again. “I’ve been lucky to have you because you make me a better... me.”  

He thought about the time he spent thinking; about his life, about the Farmer, about his mother. He tried for so long not to think about his past, and tried to escape with something he didn’t need to use his brain for; if he kept his head down and focused on the gridball, there would be no time for him to think about things he had been running from. What Alex hadn’t realized, however, was that it ruined him; he became dull, a jock, thick headed with not much bouncing around in there. When did he become so... uninteresting? So focused? So... scared? 

“Thanks to you, I’ve been working on myself.” He chuckled a bit to himself, pausing when they stirred a bit in their sleep. “I’ve been reading a lot more—books my mom left behind, mostly. I’ve been trying my hand at some handy work too, to make myself a bit more useful to you. You’ve helped me start to learn new things and branch out... I’m going to be better, not just for me, but for you, too.” 

He leaned down and placed a kiss at their temple, nudging them softly before sitting back up to smile down at them once again. 

“I want to give you the world, you know. I want to be great so that your life turns out great.” Alex rubbed their arm a bit to warm them up, and to keep up his morale and keep his speech going. “I want to give you a life that you can love. A loving family. A partner that you wake up next to every morning without a doubt in your mind that I...” 

He paused, his ears growing red as he bit the inside of his cheek. He knew what words came next, but his heart was pounding in his ears and the butterflies in his stomach fluttered up through his chest like flames. He avoided them for now. 

“I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you feel so loved. That our family feels loved. I’ll never be like my father was—never.” 

He moved to hold himself up above them and places another soft kiss to their temple. He let the silence dawn on them once again for a few minutes, trying to work up the courage to say what was sitting heavy on his heart. He was scared—what if saying it ruined everything? What if three little words could cause his world to come crashing down? There was no doubt in his mind that this was how he felt about them—none at all. He took a long look at their face again, thinking about just how ethereal they were, here, with him. Alex swallowed hard and whispered, barely audible. 

“I love you.” 

Alex wasn’t expecting an answer, he really wasn’t. When he noticed the Farmer’s hand start to move, he was confused more than anything. His face started to grow warm and he smiled a bit embarrassed as they gently held his face in their hands. They pulled themselves up a bit and he, though embarrassed, happily leaned down to meet them the rest of the way for a soft, loving, lazy kiss. When they parted after some time, he melted into their hands and kept his eyes closed.  

“Just how long were you awake?” 

“Oh, the whole time.” The Farmer teased, not a hint of sleepiness in their voice. “You might want to get a bit better at telling when someone’s actually asleep.”  

He melted a bit more, this time in more embarrassment; his whole speech he was trusting to the night had never been secret at all. He quickly recovered, however, and opened his eyes wide when the Farmer spoke next. 

“I love you, Alex.” 

All he could do was stare at them in bewilderment—eyes wide and glossy, he took in everything he could about them. The way the corners of their lips turned up, how softly those words fell onto their lips, how much love he could actually see in their eyes. He continued staring at them as they continued their own speech. 

“I love you, and I want to make sure you know exactly what that feels like—day after day. I promise, I won’t let you wander alone anymore.”  

Silence fell on the both of them, but it felt like a warm, comforting blanket. Alex tried to process their words; they played over and over again in his head like a broken record—one that had been so beloved that it developed a skip that caused it to repeat, but it was his favourite so he couldn’t bear to get rid of it. Their words struck deep into his heart, forcing their way through the flames to call it their home. Every inch of his body had grown numb from being so warm and comfortable, and tears started to fall from his wide-open eyes before he could even realize it. 

“Alex?” 

Their voice sounded so quiet and concerned, he couldn’t help but snap back to reality. He broke out into a bright, large smile; the apples of his cheeks quickly started to hurt and tears pooled in the crinkled corners of his eyes. He shook his head slightly, moving to hold himself up on one arm again so that he could hold their hand to his cheek. 

“They’re happy tears, it’s okay.” He turned to kiss the palm of their hand. “I just... don’t know what to say. I don’t think I have the words. I’ll have to learn some.” 

The Farmer lightheartedly laughed a bit, stroking his cheek with their thumb as he continued to place kisses along their palm. Once he finished their palm, he moved down to their wrist, softly moving up their arm before they took it away to wrap it around his neck. They pulled themselves up to him which he took as his cue to fall to his side and wrap his own arms around them and bring them close. 

They nuzzled their face into his neck, leaving small, fleeting kisses up and down the crook until they slowly died down and Alex could hear the soft sounds of their breathing, showing that they actually, truly fell asleep this time. 

“Babe?” He whispered, double checking himself this time.  

He smiled, kissing wherever he could reach until he started to feel his own eyelids grow heavy. He gently rubbed their back until he began falling asleep himself; not before replaying the entire scene in his mind time and time again. As the moonlight finally started to wrap him in his slumber, he closed his eyes and whispered to his love once more. 

“Thank you for saving me from me.”  

It was cold in the stoney area Elliott found himself in; deep below the surface, he thought to himself—damp, cold, and full of unsettling shadows hidden in corners. Small flames lead his way down the makeshift corridor, but he was weary to follow—what would find him at the end of it? With no exit found behind him, he pressed forward. 

The flames started to die out as he walked past, their lives cut short without a second thought—except, he thought about it. Why were they blowing out so suddenly? A chill started to climb up his spine as he made his way down towards what looked like an open area; it was darker than where he had been, only a few dancing flames had sat within the room.  

This room was bad news, Elliott thought to himself. Everything in his body was screaming to run, that there was danger around, but he couldn’t. With his feet planted in place, his eyes darted from flame to flame, straining to see what horrors they would illuminate. The hairs on the back of his neck started to stand on end as sounds started around the room; quiet at first before steadily growing louder, menacing, echoing off the stones. Shadows peeled themselves off the walls, contorting to hideous figures; sharp shrills came from somewhere deeper. The knot in Elliott’s stomach grew tighter, almost causing him to hunch over with fear.  

Creatures he thought he’d never be able to even dream of started to show themselves in the dim lights, just as frightening as they sounded. Horrifying sights, he thought to himself; dripping, oozing, some even rigid and sharp—creatures with faces so frightening he couldn’t fully comprehend what it was his eyes were trying to focus on. They moved with malevolence, each action full of venom; Elliott found himself begging in silence that he kept out of their sights. 

They started to merge together, moving towards something lying on the ground just within the remaining candle’s flames. It was balled up, hardly moving; the figure was... human, Elliott thought. What were they doing there? Were they alright? They needed to get up—needed to get out. The monstrosities grew ever closer, and his anxiety was on the rise; he tried calling out to the person, trying to will the air from his lungs to say something—anything—but nothing was productive. Even if something had come out, his voice would be lost amongst the terrifying noises that echoed among the walls, falling on deaf ears.  

The growing sense of urgency made him jittery as he tried and tried again to call out, but the moment his eyes adjusted and caught a glimpse of just who lay in the monster’s trap, his heart sank to his stomach. 

“Farmer...?” 

Elliott managed to whisper, his voice trembling while their name felt heavy with dread. He tried to move his feet, reach out to them. He tried calling out to them again and again, voice raising and wavering each time. The shadows started to move in, but he could only watch as they swoop in on their prey. With his heart in his throat and lead in his feet, he reached out for the Farmer who lay there unresponsive. 

“Farmer!” He shouted. “Farmer! Get up! Farmer, please!”  

He got desperate, screaming their name now as the shadows pounced at the person he cared about. 

“FARM--” 

“-ER!”  

Elliott woke up with a start, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears, jumping out of his chest and into his throat all at once. His breath was heavy, shaky, and felt as though he couldn’t catch it—his chest rose and fell with pain. Elliott’s clothes stuck to him, drenched in a cold sweat. His mind started running a mile a minute, no coherent thoughts were able to keep up. Was it a dream? It had to have been; he looked around the room and registered that it was his own. Trying to stabilize his breathing, he tried to brush his hair from his face and slowly lay back down.  

It was a dream! It was a dream. It was... a dream. Elliott bolted out of bed, alarmed that it had been a dream. It wasn’t a prophetic one, right? It couldn’t have been. Was it? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. He was being ridiculous! Surely it was just a nightmare, and he should go back to bed. This is what he tried to soothe himself with as he drew back his blanket and attempted to crawl back into bed. 

But... what if it wasn’t? He jumped out of bed once again and rushed around his room—he should just go check on them! No, he NEEDED to go check on them. He felt around the dark room to grab his jacket from the back of his chair and struggled to put it on in a rush, tripping and falling against the front door as he also attempted to put on his shoes. Outside was quiet—even the waves were drowned out by the sound of his racing heart and his breath trying to catch up as he took off running, struggling to keep his footing in the sand. He ran much faster as his feet hit solid ground, sprinting through the familiar path to their farm. Weaving through paths of hard-earned crops and practically jumping over the rickety, old wooden steps of the porch, his fist pounds at their front door. He continues to knock, and knock, and knock, beating at the old wood so hard he could hear it over the static playing in his ears. 

Are they there? They have to be. It’s the middle of the night; oh, please be there, he thought to himself. Please be safely in your own bed, comfortable and warm—where they should be. He began to knock again before he was cut off, the door in front of him opening slowly to reveal the very person he was so desperate to see; they stood there in their pajama’s, a fist rubbing one eye while the other attempted to blink away the drowsiness and process the need to wake up. They were here, they were safe, they were... adorable. Elliott hunched over, holding his stomach, and let out the heaviest breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  

“Elliott...? Are you alright?” Farmer asks, voice drenched in sleep. “What’s wrong?” 

It took a few moments of trying to calm down and regulate his breathing before Elliott had stood back upright. He looked at them carefully, taking in every inch of them to ease his mind and soothe his heart, as their body was bathed in the gentle moonlight. 

“...Ahem,” Elliott cleared his throat and attempted to straighten his shirt. “Hello, Farmer.” 

They studied him with half-lidded eyes. Their shoulders hung with sleep still wrapping them like the warm blanket they had left in their bed. After a few moments, and a few hoots from an owl in the distance, they broke the silence of the night once again. 

“Are.... you okay?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

Elliott felt the corners of his lips turn upwards, but not of joy or relief. He was certainly feeling very awkward, now. How in the world was he going to explain this behaviour to them! His smile starts to grow, becoming more and more disconcerting; sweat fell from his brow though his body had certainly had enough time to calm down. He started to clear his throat again, moving to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to find the words to say. Come on, Elliott! You’re a writer! Certainly, you can think of a story to excuse this behaviour away? He watched as the Farmer looked him up and down, squinting a bit at him before they opened their mouth to speak. 

“Well... you were banging at my door is if your life depended on it... in the middle of the night.” 

“Ah... yeah...” Elliott managed to stammer out. 

“Then, your jacket is inside out--” Elliott promptly looked down to see the inside of his jacket pockets where they certainly should not be. “--and you’re also in your pajamas.” He certainly was. 

“Well, you see...” He started. 

Farmer looked down and stared, causing Elliott to follow suit. He took a look at his feet and felt the heat of a blush creep up the back of his neck the longer the silence drew on between the two of them. The distant hoot of an owl called out again before Farmer stuck their hand out and pointed at his previously mentioned feet. 

“You have two different shoes on.”  

The silence of the night swallowed the two of them whole once again. 

Elliott heaved a heavy sigh and slowly, almost with a shaky hand with how embarrassed he was feeling now, wiped the cold sweat off of his face and spoke through a crooked—and awkward—smile. 

“Ah. So I do.” 

“It’s like you have two left feet.” 

“That is not the same thing, they are simply different shoes—they're meant for the correct feet.” 

Elliott looked up at them through his eyelashes, his embarrassment practically melting away the instant he saw a bright smile on their lips. Of course they tried to make him feel better about it all, it was just who they were; it was something he truly adored about them, after all. Their soft, melodic giggle echoed through the still night, wrapping him with the comfort he had practically begged for just moments ago—it was such a welcomed warmth that he had almost forgotten what it was that had him so worried in the first place; the daunting fact crashed against him like a wave as he remembered and the blush of embarrassment crept up his neck once again. 

“Ahem... Well,” Elliott cleared his throat once again—it was going to be sore by the morning if he kept it up, “you see, there’s this tradition of... waking... people up... frantically... to...” 

Farmer cut him off with an unconvinced look and by gently putting their hand up to motion him to drop the horrible acting. 

“You’re a writer. You couldn’t come up with something better than whatever you were about to give me?” That’s what Elliott had been telling himself, too, only hearing the Farmer say it aloud struck his heart like an arrow. 

“Alright, fine.” He took a large breath, held it, and let it out in a quick meditation. “Believe in what you will, but there are times when dreams may be... prophetic.” 

“...Go on.” 

“It comes in as a sort of déjà vu at times, you see.”  

“Elliott.” 

He threw his hands up into the air as an indication that he had given up trying to beat around the bush. Holding those same hands out to the Farmer, he looked at them with such heavy concern and care in his eyes, he started to tear up. He fought back those very tears as Farmer gently put their hands in his own, instantly, without being prompted. Softly, quietly, as though the night itself would carry his words to the moon and reveal his secrets, he confessed. 

“I had a nightmare—about you.” He started, rubbing his thumbs across the Farmer’s knuckles and keeping eye contact with them. “I... needed to make sure you were alright. I was truly... truly frightened. I thought you had been hurt, or worse—if I had lost you.” 

Elliott leaned in closer to them, his voice now hardly above a whisper. 

“What would I ever do without you?” 

The Farmer looked back at him, their sleep still holding a shade over their eyes, though Elliott could see the gears in their head start to process. It was their turn for their skin to heat up a little, get a little embarrassed, feel a little awkward and lost for words. They opened and closed their mouth a few times, going to say something but changing their mind; finally, they settled on simply giving him a warm, comforting smile, leaving his slight confession for a time when they were more lucid.  

“Thank you, Elliott.” They whispered back. “For caring so much about me; for checking on me. I’m alright, I promise.” 

The Farmer’s smile turned into a larger one, with a little more pep in their step as they turned away from the door frame and faced the dark inside of their house. They held onto one of Elliott’s hands and gestured into the dark with the other, their eyes silently wishing for a certain answer as they looked into his own. 

“Now that you’re here, do you want some tea? You’re free to crash on my couch for the night, since it’s so late. I don’t know what happened in that dream of yours, but... maybe it’ll help you sleep knowing I’m okay.” 

Elliott’s eyes grew wide, but only for a moment, before the relief and thankfulness had smoothed his being. Right. They were okay. They were okay, and that was the best thing he could ask for at this point. They were here, in front of him, in the comfort of the rickety old wooden place they called home—not in some frightening, dark, dangerous cave. They were here—with him—he could feel the warmth of their skin and they gently held his hand and guided him through the door, into the comfort of their home. They were safe, and for that, he was thankful.  

A promise-- he silently made to himself as he watched the hot tea pour into the cup in front of him—to pay closer attention to their safety. A promise to protect what is loved, and a promise to do whatever was needed to keep any prophetic dreams at bay.  

A promise... to think things through a little more instead of panic; he gave a miserable smile as the Farmer started to give a genuine laugh at his two different shoes now that they were a bit more awake to truly appreciate the ridiculousness of his outfit. The sound, however, brought him his much-needed peace.  

The sand was just warm enough to make him feel weightless, like he was floating on a cloud. Or was it the breeze that tickled his skin, lifting him up and carrying him away softly, gently? Maybe it was the way in which the sun's rays hit his face just right, embracing him like a familiar hug that made him feel like he could take on the skies.  

Or, really, it was the way his company made him feel—the way his heart fluttered and soared and carried him along with it. Alex snuck a look at the person at his side; their face up towards the sun, a smile on their face that could rival it. The sight brought on a smile of his own, warmth in his chest growing stronger than the summer sun.  

Yoba, how beautiful the sun made them look; the light surrounding them hugged them in just the right places, making them look almost ethereal. Well, any light did that to them, in Alex’s eyes. Maybe because they’d hung out for a good while now, he started to actually see them—maybe they’ve always been this beautiful, but he was so absorbed in himself that he couldn’t take notice. Here they sat, however, closer than ever and intertwined in places of his heart that he would have never expected. What was this feeling? 

“Hey Farmer, you’ve gotta move your big head; you’re blocking out the whole sun. How am I supposed to tan?” 

“Uh. Go find your own spot?”  

They were snarky, a faux pout on their lips as they finally turned to look at him. Farmer brought their arms up, waving them in the air and watching as their shadows covered the face of their lounging companion beside them. Alex grumbled, perching himself up with his arms out behind him to get some sun of his own. The Farmer’s laugh was a melody dancing around with the breeze, subconsciously pulling Alex in; he leaned over and bumped into them with his shoulder, playfully. 

“If I go find my own spot, I’ll miss the clown show.” 

“Woooooow.” They drug out the word, feigning hurt. “You’re so mean to me! Why do I even bother calling you my friend?” 

Alex smiled, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, soaking up the sun.  

“Yeah, well.” He laughed a bit to himself, speaking without thinking. “You could probably punch me in the face and I’d still want you, so say what you want.” 

Silence. It felt as though the world itself had stopped moving around him; the waves, the breeze, the Earth itself had stopped moving and froze in time. The air around them suddenly grew so tense it could be cut with a simple piece of paper at this point. Alex snapped his eyes open, whipping his head back up to look at them, completely bewildered. Farmer looked back at him just as shocked, eyes wide yet hiding any emotion from them. 

“What?” 

“What?” 

“Alex, huh?” 

“Huh?” 

There was no way that slipped out, right? What did he even mean by that—did he want them? Oh Yoba, he did, didn’t he? That’s what that feeling was—they weren’t simply just his best friend, they had grown far more than that when he wasn’t looking. Did he already ruin it before anything could have started? What about their friendship? He’d just ruined everything; why didn’t his brain work the right way—like others? Why did he have to have such a hard time watching his mouth!  

His panic was interrupted by Farmer’s voice, Alex’s face never relaxing from his shock and panic. 

“Alex? What did you mean by that?” 

“By what?” 

“By ‘I’d still want you’?” 

“Who said that?” 

“Alex.” 

His curt answers had no effect on the Farmer, nor did his attempts to play it off. He turned to look anywhere but them, but his eyes couldn’t stay in just one spot. His face started to heat up, and it wasn’t from the sun this time. His embarrassment crawled up his neck, burning his ears first; he went from biting his cheek, to scowling, to biting his cheek once again—back and forth—trying to think of something, anything, to get him out of the situation he found himself in. 

“Alex.” They said again, trying to lean into his line of sight as his eyes darted everywhere but on them. “Alex? What did you mean? Do you like me?” 

“Huh?” He started to comically move his head around to follow his line of sight now, trying to blatantly avoid their gaze. 

His eyes shot down to one of his hands that held himself up the second he felt the heat from their own cover it. He could feel as they leaned in, their body now taking up space in his own personal bubble; he could sense that their face had leaned in close to his, but he was far too nervous to look back at them—he kept his eyes on their hands. 

“Alex, do you like me?” They asked again, following up with a soft, feather-light kiss on his cheek bone without giving him a chance to answer. “Do you?”  

Another feather-light kiss, more on his cheek. Another one closer to the corner of his lip. Each peck of their lips left behind a burning mark and an electric shock all the way to his rapidly beating heart. Another. A soft whisper of ‘do you?’ once again by them against his lips, followed by a soft, gentle kiss.  

Their lips, the smell of them, their body heat—all far too fleeting. He turned to finally look at them as they pulled away and sat back up, their smile radiant. He used his other hand to rub at the back of his neck, trying (and failing) to calm himself down. His heart kept leaping out of his throat, out of his chest. His hands were shaking, he’d fall if he wasn’t careful. Alex kept trying to frown, to deny whatever he could and save face, but the corners of his lips had betrayed him as he kept smiling, no matter how hard he attempted to stop. Okay, so, maybe he did. Maybe he did like them a bit.  

“Yoba, you want me so bad.” They joked, trying to clear the air and help ease his embarrassment. 

“What.” His face fell deadpan, too stunned to respond. 

They laughed once again, a hearty one, that had them hunched over; he simply stared at them intensely, leaning into them to stare harder—though all it did was make them laugh even more, until they struggled to catch their breath. Once they did, they turned back to him, finding themselves face to face. They simply kept smiling at him, even as they wiped the tears from their eyes; he started to fail to hide his smile once again, now sharing a small chuckle with them. 

Alex leaned back on his hands again, tilting his head and taking in their entire self, a gentle smile on his lips and soft, loving look in his gaze. Yeah, he did want them, actually. He wasn’t sure why he kept denying it to himself before, but he really did want them—all of them, for the rest of his life, actually. Even if he tried to think of anything else, his brain had fried a bit-- replaying every moment he had experienced clammy hands, rapid heartbeats, or some sort of longing while in their presence; yeah, he did want them, more than he ever thought he would.  

He watched them lean in again, though he let his body do the talking this time. As they got closer, one of his hands moved up to cup their jaw gently, his heartbeat racing through his veins as they leaned into his touch. Alex wanted to leave his eyes open and look at them—how beautiful they were, how ethereal they must have been—but he allowed himself to simply keep them closed, blissfully melting into the feel of their lips interlocking with his own. The feel of their summer-stained lips and the taste of their salty chapstick had lingered as they slowly—reluctantly—pulled away, burning the sensations into his brain for longer than he’d ever know. 

They seemed to mirror him now; nervous, a little awkward, but hopelessly in some sort of love. Farmer looked away, trying to hide just how wide their smile had been now. Alex sat there a moment, trying to let his brain catch up. Oh, so that happened. Oh, so this was happening—with them. He blew air out of his nose, resembling a slight laugh at how dumbfounded he was.  

But, this was where he was meant to be. He hadn’t realized this before, but the world had only seemed to stop earlier because it was time for it to. Time isn’t lost if you’re where you’re meant to be, he believed, because it was time meant to be shared. He was exactly where he was meant to be—exactly who he was meant to be with. It simply took his empty, big ol’ head of his to accidentally spit out words without thinking to get him to realize this; everything made sense the moment the words left his lips—everything made sense the moment their lips touched his own.  

He turned their face back towards him, pulling them gently back down towards them with a large, goofy, happy grin. 

Elliott had a way with words, but he wasn’t quite sure how those same words landed him where he was today—in fact, he was fairly certain he ended up somewhere he was simply not built for.  

The sun had its eyes just barely above the horizon, causing Elliott to shield his own-- peeking ever so slightly through his fingers at the scenery that awaited him. It was serene, beautiful; such a vast change of pace to what he was used to, and it was very welcomed. How he ever got so lucky to find love with the Farmer, he would never know, but waking up after a night stayed at their farm was such a nice, emotional reset. He sighed lovingly when he felt their touch brush across his back.  

“Good morning, my love.”  

“Good morning,” they leaned in for a short kiss before leaning against the porch railing beside him, “you’re up early.”  

“The sun was calling me today.”  

“Funny, it called me too. Only,” they sighed and stood straight, stretching a bit, “it called me in for work. What do you think you’ll do today?”  

It was when they hopped off of the farmhouse porch and stood just a little below him that he noticed them dressed and ready for the day of hard work ahead of them. The dew had only just set, yet, they stood tall and light on their toes as they just barely bounced between the balls of their feet a tad bit antsy. Elliott’s heart skipped a beat and couldn’t help the loving smile that grew on his lips.  

“Hmm, I suppose I’ll work as well. Is there something I can help you with, darling?”  

Their eyes widened with surprise, quickly closing to make way for their reassuring smile. 

“You don’t need to help, it’s alright. I’ve got it.” 

“Oh, come on. Don’t trust me?” 

“It’s not that--” 

“Then?” 

The Farmer sighed and hung their head a bit in shame, an apologetic smile on their lips. Elliott had no time to be upset by their words, though, as a light-hearted laugh bubbled up through his chest. He shook his head to dispel their worries; a kind smile crawled into the creases around his eyes as he spoke again. 

“Worry not. I may not be very versed in the ways of farming, but surely there’s something I can do to ease your workload? Anything at all? I’d really like to help you out, my love.” 

The Farmer’s lips twisted to the side in thought as they looked around at the vast land and various crops growing behind them. It was almost like Elliott could see the exclamation mark appear above their head when an idea came to them; they turned back to him so quickly with a large smile and gestured towards the growing patch of watermelons a bit across the way. 

“Well, some of those should be ready to go, if you’d like to pick them! You can pick the ripe ones and soon as I’m done over in the radishes, I’ll come by with the wheelbarrow.”  

Elliott stared out at the patch of green, appearing zoned out and stoic. The Farmer’s smile waivered a bit as they noticed his indifference and quickly spoke again. 

“Um, if that’s okay with you? You don’t have to, obviously--” 

“Oh,” Elliott snapped out of his trance and shook his head. “Of course it’s okay, I was just admiring, is all. I’ll go ahead and get started then, darling. I’ll see you soon.” 

He quickly left the farmhouse porch, kissing the Farmer’s cheek just as quickly before speeding off towards the patch of watermelons. The Farmer followed him with their eyes, their eyebrows furrowing in confusion before shaking it off and heading towards their own patch of ready to harvest crops.  

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒ 

Elliott was definitely not in his element.  

Standing in the middle of the patch, he had no idea which watermelons were ready to pick, and which had more maturing to do. They all looked green—surely it wasn’t a matter of colour? Or was it? Was he to count the lines on the melon and see if they hit a certain amount? No, that was ridiculous. Regardless, Elliott had never had the pleasure of growing nor harvesting his own watermelon, among other things, and was definitely lost. He could pick a good one out at the market! But harvesting? Certainly, a whole different ball game. They had to be just a bit before being perfectly ripe so they could ripen a bit in the bin before selling, right? But, just how much before they were perfectly ripe should they be pulled? Or, did they have to be pre-ripe at all? He didn’t know! Elliott swallowed and sighed heavily. Why didn’t he simply ask his partner what he was looking for? Why must pride get in his way?  

He looked among the melon patch again, looking for at least one to go based off of. His eyes landed on one melon—a bit on the small size—but it seemed to be the perfect shade of green; the stripes were nice and dark, not too many of them, and the melon was almost so perfectly round. That was it! The perfect melon, he thought. Elliott cut it from the stem and rolled it out into the open and moved to the next nice one a few melons down. He continued going up and down the lines picking the nice, hand-sized, rounder melons and skipping ones he considered too small, and ones he considered too large, not green enough, or oval shaped. 

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he stood up straight with his hands on his hips, chest puffed out in pride. It wasn’t very many melons, he thought to himself, just a handful. Would that be enough for the Farmer? He bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about it a bit more, though his thoughts were cut off once the Farmer walked up behind him with the wheelbarrow and called out to him. 

“Hey! Done already?”  

“Oh, there you are!” Elliott turned to them with a smile so big it threatened to crack his face in half. “You worked fairly quick as well.”  

“Yeah, not a lot of them were very ripe so I didn’t have too many to grab. It’s been a good hour, though, Elliott.” 

“Has it been?” Elliott exclaimed, completely flabbergasted. “I guess the time really flew by. I guess that’s what you mean when you say there really feels like there isn’t enough time in the day.” 

“I told you! The day just flies right on by!” They moved to stand next to him and linked their arm with his. “Let's take a look at the haul today!” 

The Farmer finally looked across the field and grew quiet, a deadpan look on their face, unbeknownst to Elliott. He had puffed his chest out again, every inch of him filling with pride, readying himself for praise from his love; when silence filled the air, he deflated a bit and grew a bit shy, now sweating a bit from nerves. He swallowed a bit and looked at the Farmer’s face, noticing the deadpan expression being contradicted by the way they bit their lip and shook from trying not to do... something. Were they going to cry? Were they going to yell? Did he do it wrong? Elliott started to apologize profusely. 

“I’m so sorry, darling! I ruined it, didn’t I? I messed up and ruined your crops, I’m so very sorry--” 

He was cut off by the Farmer finally cracking; a genuine, hearty laugh bursting from their chest. They had folded over, clutching Elliott’s arm with one hand to keep stable as the other held their stomach so they didn’t bust at the seams with how hard they were laughing. It was Elliott’s turn to stand there with a deadpan expression, unsure of how to react.  

“I’m-- I’m sorry,” they stumbled through laughter as they tried to speak. “It’s just, it’s just so funny.” 

“I’m so glad my incompetence can provide you with entertainment.”  

“Oh, Elliott.” The Farmer took a few deep breaths, working to calm themselves down before patting him lovingly on the chest. “Don’t be like that. You have to admit, it is pretty funny. None of the ones you cut are ripe, what was the thought process?” 

“They were green. They had good looking stripes. They were round. They were reasonably sized.” 

“Elliott...” The Farmer stifled a laugh again. “You were half way there.”  

Elliott turned his chin up away from them; he didn’t want to face them because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and honestly felt fairly bad. He really did ruin a good portion of their crop, didn’t he? He cost them a pretty penny, he was sure; how would he pay them back? How would he make up for it? Why were they laughing rather than getting mad at him—he would be distraught if the roles had been reversed. His false pride completely deflated and he hung his head, sighing once again and mumbling out another apology. 

“I’m genuinely very sorry, dear.” His ears started to burn red with embarrassment. “Truly. Is there a way you’d like me to repay you? How much would it cost to replace them?” 

“Elliott, really, it’s fine.” They cupped his face and gently coaxed him into looking at them, a loving smile greeted him. “It’s okay. It really isn’t that bad—it's just a few of them. No need to keep apologizing.” 

They kissed the tip of his nose, gently nuzzling their own against his until he slowly returned the gesture, loosening the stress he held in his shoulders.  

“Are you sure?” His voice sounded defeated. 

“Absolutely sure.” Another kiss to his nose. “Let me show you which ones to pick. I’ve got some neat tricks up my sleeve to picking the ripe ones!”  

Elliott sighed, but gave an exasperated smile, promising to perk up once he moved past his embarrassment. He followed behind, dragging his feet slightly as they went along, coming to the first watermelon he deemed unpickable. It was fairly large, oval, and definitely lopsided. He rejected it for its size, thinking it was far past the presentable state as it would be too big to carry—at least to his home on the beach. They crouched down and encouraged him to join. 

“See, it’s nice and big, so it doesn’t need to do any extra growing; they don’t keep growing on the shelf, after all.” Another embarrassment struck Elliott in the heart. “The real tell on all ripe watermelons though, is the patch of discoloration here on the bottom.” 

When they lifted the melon, Elliott could see a fairly sized yellow patch, varying in degrees of shades. It looked ugly, imperfect, and not like the ones he had picked at all. He gave them a sideways glare, confused and skeptical. They laughed when they caught a glimpse of it and gave the melon a good pat. 

“See, the patch means it’s been on the ground long enough to be nice and ripe when you crack into it. Too yellow—too ripe—grainy, gross, no flavour. Brown—way too ripe-- rotten, even. No yellow spot—it isn’t up to its full potential, and when it ripens on the shelf, it won’t be as good as it should be. This sweet, sweet middle,” another pat to the watermelon, “gives you the sweet, sweet watermelon.”  

“...This... ugly little spot is the tell for the watermelon?” 

“It’s ugly but it does the job.”  

“...And you’re sure about this?” 

“Elliott, have you never picked a watermelon up at the market?” 

“Now that you mention it, I don’t remember if I have.” 

“Well, if the ‘ugly little spot’ isn’t good enough for you, try tapping it.”  

The Farmer leaned down slightly to get a better ear on it and knocked their knuckles against it. Elliott leaned down as well, listening in to a bit of a hollow sound. 

“See? Just like a door. The best, ripe melons will be hollow sounding. They will also, unfortunately, not be as green. A nice, dull colour; an ugly melon is a good melon on the inside.” 

“An ugly melon.” 

“It has a nice personality.” 

“Does it now?” 

“Well, we can crack this one open and test the theory.”  

The Farmer laughed and leaned into Elliott, stealing a small kiss from his lips as he sat on his heels staring at the melon with pure doubt. They pulled him up by his hand after cutting the melon from its vine and put their hands on their hips. A bright smile thrown his way was enough to perk Elliott up from moping as he leaned in to kiss them this time. 

“There you are! I was wondering when you were going to get out of that head of yours.” 

“It’s a very crowded place. Hard to navigate.” 

“I’m sure it is, oh great writer. Come on, help me pick the rest of the melons and put them in the bin, then we can pick out the best of the bunch just for ourselves, as a treat!” 

“What is a good melon if not fuel for our hard-earned labour?” 

“Okay, maybe I’ll get the watermelon instead and you will have none.” 

“You knew this was a thing before I courted you, my dear. Do not act like it is new.” 

Elliott laughed as the Farmer stuck their tongue out at him in good humour. He leaned in for one more kiss before the Farmer took off down the line of crops playfully running from him, taunting him to catch up or he’d have to push the wheelbarrow.