Work Text:
Alex had a routine. It was a good routine - plenty of time for lifting weights, and a long early morning run. But it meant that any change to the routine, small though it might be, always came as a shock.
The day started like any other. Wake up, run, eat breakfast with his grandparents, and start weight training. He finished, hoisted his weights back into place, changed, and went outside with Dusty's dinner, just like always.
Unlike always, someone else was already out there. The new farmer was seated cross legged on the dirt in front of the fence, messing with something in their lap and talking quietly.
"What are you doing?" Alex snapped, harsher than he'd intended. He was touchy when it came to Dusty, but he immediately wished he'd sounded calmer.
Yarn looked up at them from their, well, yarn, actually, it looked like they were knitting (Crocheting? He can never get the two straight.). They shrugged.
He almost demanded answers again, but he spotted Dusty's nose poking out from his dog house. Softening, he opened the gate and knelt by his dog. "Hey boy. Got your dinner."
Dusty crept out of the shelter warily, tail and ears low as he kept an eye on Yarn. Alex bit his tongue so he wouldn't ask them to please leave so Dusty would be comfortable again. Apparently Yarn got the message anyway, because the next time he looked up from scratching behind Dusty's ears they had disappeared.
He's sort of waiting to see them again the next day, but he's the only one by Dusty's dog house that afternoon. The rest of the week was back to routine. He appreciated that.
That Saturday Grandpa, face hidden by his newspaper, asked, "You know that Yarn kid?"
"Uh, not really, no."
"They've been over by Dusty's pen every morning this week. Thought maybe you'd like to know."
"Yeah, thanks."
"Yarn seems like a sweet child," Grandma said. "I spoke to them last week you know. Such a rough voice! I wonder if my honey lemon drops would help the poor dear?"
Alex shrugged, uncomfortable. He knew Yarn was probably not a problem. But it was Dusty. He had to be sure.
The next morning Alex had to break his routine again, waiting by the window for Yarn's arrival after his morning run. Not ten minutes later they walked into view and took a seat by Dusty's pen. Alex was about to go ask what they were doing when he saw them hold out a hand. Dusty slunk out of his bed, sniffing at their hand before allowing them to pet him. After a minute he flopped down with his back to the fence. Yarn scratched along his side, fingers buried in his fur.
Alex was up and moving without thinking. He ended up rocking on his heels in front of Yarn, fingers clenched around a baggie of his grandmother's throat lozenges, tongue tied and uncertain.
Yarn didn't help. Their freaky eyes watched him for a second before they looked back at the book in their lap. Alex wasn't exactly a huge fan of reading for fun, but he was almost certain it wasn't written in English. Or anything else he'd seen before.
"He doesn't usually let people pet him," Alex settled on finally.
Yarn looked up again, head tilted in a clear question.
Alex grimaced, taking a seat on the other side of the pen. "Sorry about before. I was a jerk."
"It's fine."
Wow. Grandma hadn't been kidding, Yarn sounded awful. He held out the lozenges as a peace offering. "My grandma made these for you. Said they might help your throat."
They accepted the gift, turning the bag over in their hands. "It is an old injury. Please tell her thank you for me."
"An injury? I thought you lost your voice?"
"I never said when I lost it."
It still sounded a lot like they'd lied to Lewis to Alex, but he let it go. "So, uh, you like dogs?"
They nodded.
Alex was beginning to feel like he was trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall.
The silence held for a minute, then, "Speaking of old injuries. I hope whomever hurt this dog was appropriately punished."
Alex's expression twisted, familiar white hot fury settling in his gut at the thought of his father. He didn't reply.
Yarn hummed. "I see."
He glanced at them sharply. "What?"
"The person that did this to your dog hurt you as well, and was either never punished or were, in your opinion, inadequately punished."
"Someone told you."
They shook their head. "It is a feeling near my heart as well."
He waited for an explanation, but Yarn seemed to think that was the end of their conversation, popping a lozenge into their mouth and going back to their book.
"It was my dad," he said, and he didn't know exactly why.
"My guardian," they replied.
"I still don't know if I hate him."
"I did things for her approval I can never undo."
"Me too."
Neither of them spoke again that morning, but somehow that was fine. Alex felt lighter than he had in years.
He started seeing Yarn more often after that. They would stop by his house with a batch of whatever new recipe his grandma had sent over, or with a bundle of beets, or fish, or leeks, and even once a plate of fried mushrooms and freshly baked herb crusted bream. They followed his grandma around like the world's creepiest puppy. She couldn't say enough kind things about them and their help with the community gardens.
His grandpa asked them to stay and watch his boring documentaries with him once, and Alex thought they almost smiled. Or he would've, if Yarn ever actually had facial expressions.
Mostly though, they spent time with Dusty. Once he'd met with them a couple of times in the morning, Yarn had begun visiting at Dusty's usual dinner time. Alex started to think of their presence as a part of his routine.
Yarn wasn't exactly friendly, but he did like talking to them. They were quiet, really weird, and knew a lot of stuff he was pretty sure they shouldn't, like Lewis and Marnie's secret relationship and why those rock monsters showed up at night. Some kind of crazy old protection spell apparently.
So maybe it wasn't so out of nowhere when he accepted the basket of eggs from them one morning and invited them inside for breakfast. And maybe it wasn't a huge surprise when they said yes.
"You don't have to keep bringing us stuff you know," he said, starting on the pancake batter.
"It is a sign of respect and friendship."
"Uh. Right, okay, I guess."
Next time he looked over Yarn had their eyes closed, leaning back on their chair.
He frowned. They looked exhausted, even more than usual. "Are you sleeping okay?"
"Yes, just fine."
"You're falling asleep man."
"It is of no concern. I have been unable to sleep the past few nights."
"Why?"
"Nightmares I suppose."
"Oh. Sorry."
"No need to worry. It happens on occasion."
"Okay, I guess…"
Yarn didn't speak again, so Alex's brain just latched onto the first thing that came to mind.
"Why'd you tell Lewis you'd lost your voice?"
If Yarn was surprised by the sudden change of topic they didn't show it. "I was planning to stay silent. A… visitor heard me. Others knew the same instant that he did. It seemed pointless after."
"Visitor?"
"The manager at the Joja Mart."
Alex shuddered. "That dude gives me the chills. Don't know why."
"Listen to your instincts."
"Right," he said, unsettled by their intensity. "So, who'd he tell?"
"People in town, I assume. More importantly, people who might recognize my description. My voice is distinctive."
"Yeah it is. You said it was an injury or something?"
"I drank something I shouldn't have. I was lucky."
"Oh damn, I'm sorry."
Yarn just shrugged, apparently done with the topic. He got that.
He'd set down their plates and begun to eat before Yarn broke the silence for once.
"Would it trouble you if I joined you for your morning run tomorrow?"
Alex grinned. "Yeah! I mean, no, definitely, I don't mind."
"Thank you. I enjoy spending time with you."
"I, uh, me too? With you though, obviously."
"I am… happy to hear it."
They weren't smiling, their intent stare hadn't lightened up at all, but for some reason he believed them.
Running together didn't require anybody to talk, so it didn't feel quite as weird if Yarn only spoke every once in a while. They were also the first person he'd met who could keep up with his pace and didn't complain. It quickly became a regular thing. Even with all of Yarn's farm work they would be up and waiting for him in front of his house every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Another change to his schedule, but he didn't think he minded.