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Gustafa had always been a free spirit, but one thing he had never done before was love a man.
He supposed it wasn’t exactly correct to think about it that way. Worded as such, it didn’t sound good by any means. But what he really meant by the sentiment was that he’d never even thought about loving a man—to be honest, he hadn’t thought much about loving anyone. Not until it happened to him.
He didn’t actually “meet” the farmer on his first day in the valley, though he did catch sight of Takakura showing him around. When they came by the yurt, Gustafa must’ve been caught up in something else. He didn’t take it personally. Moving someplace new is always busy, even when the place you’re moving to is slow and steady.
The whole town, for what it was worth, was in an excitement about him, and Gustafa had to admit an interest in meeting him and getting to know him. There had only been two new faces in Forget-Me-Not Valley in the four years Gustafa had been there—Jesus, four years already? Regardless, new people weren’t common, and as interesting as Nami was, she was by no means a lifer. The farmer seemed here to stay.
According to Muffy, his name was Willoughby. Gustafa couldn’t help a chuckle when he heard that. Sure, he had no room to talk, but an unusual name is an unusual name.
Gustafa got lucky. A few days after Willoughby rolled into town, he caught sight of him leaving his farm as he stood by the river. He called out.
“Hey, farmboy!”
Willoughby stopped mid-step and looked over his shoulder in confusion. He pointed at himself. “Me?”
Gustafa grinned. “Yeah, you. Got a minute?”
Willoughby marched over obediently. “I don’t think I met you the other day,” he commented, rubbing the back of his head. His straight hair was short and a light brown color.
Gustafa waved him off. “It’s groovy, man. I was probably lost in a song. The name’s Gustafa.” He shook his hand. “I already know your name, of course. You’re the talk of the town.”
Willoughby chuckled, but his brows pulled together. “So it seems. It’s real different here. Who’d’ve thunk that the anonymity of the city would be something I miss?”
“You’ll get used to it,” Gustafa assured him. “And eventually, they’ll all get used to you.”
Willoughby smiled and shook his head. He looked up at the sky. “It was nice meeting you,” he said. “Sorry that I’ve gotta run.”
“No trouble.” Gustafa pushed his sunglasses up and nodded at him. “Just don’t forget to slow down now and then, yeah? I’m always at my yurt taking it easy. Join me any time.”
“You got it.” Willoughby waved and rushed on his way into town. Gustafa hummed and adjusted his hat, looking back out at the flowing river. Marlin came up beside him after a moment and sighed sullenly. Gustafa turned to him.
“Alright, Marlin?”
“I suppose,” Marlin grumbled, looking into the water. Gustafa shook his head a bit. Some people he would never understand.
○○○
Willoughby was a constant in Gustafa’s understanding of the community, after that. He would sometimes catch him walking in the woods or fishing in the sea and stop for a chat. When Willoughby saw him out playing his guitar, he would pause for a minute to listen and comment. A couple of times, Willoughby caught up with him and offered him flowers from the field out by the pass out of the valley. Gustafa accepted warmly every time.
Willoughby was really nice. Gustafa couldn’t help but also consider him to be thoughtful.
There was a day in late spring when Gustafa was set up playing outside his yurt and Willoughby walked right up. He leaned on the tree and listened, watching Gustafa’s fingers with a smile. Gustafa grinned up at him.
“Hey, man. What’s up?”
“I could hear you playing all the way from my barn,” Willoughby informed him. He crossed his arms and put on a lopsided little smile. “Have I told you you’re really good?”
Willoughby had, in fact, told Gustafa that before, but it was a heartfelt compliment all the same. Gustafa strummed absently. “Got a minute? Want to sit with me?”
“Sure.” Willoughby sank to the ground not far from Gustafa, leaning back against the tree. He made a tired little sound as he did it.
“You’ve gotta take it easy,” Gustafa reminded him. “Don’t go overdoing it, y’know?”
“I know, I know,” Willoughby sighed. He closed his eyes. “That’s what I’m doing now, right?”
Gustafa laughed and they were quiet as he fingerpicked some instrumental experiments for a minute. “It’s such a lovely day,” Gustafa commented after a bit. Willoughby hummed his assent. “Perfect weather, peaceful breeze, good friend, guitar in hand. On days like this, I feel like nothing can go wrong.”
Willoughby just hummed again and Gustafa looked over at him. Now that he was sitting still for once, he was able to get a good look. Willoughby had a pleasant, delicate face. It stood in contrast to thick work clothes he wore. There was also straw stuck in his short hair. The work gloves poking out of his pocket were already worn out and dirty.
Gustafa looked around at the trees. The leaves were darkening, turning that vibrant forest green color of summer. Willoughby had barely been here a season, but it was clear he was putting the work in on the farm. Gustafa had never been hard working, himself, and he did not want to be. But he could certainly appreciate how much drive and responsibility it took for Willoughby to be doing what he was.
“Do you have days like that?” Gustafa asked softly. He strummed gentle chords. “Where everything feels perfect?”
“Yeah,” Willoughby breathed. He opened his eyes and Gustafa quickly averted his gaze, not wanting the farmer to feel ogled.
“Nice. It’s nice to meet another person who’s like me.”
“Like you?” Willoughby’s voice was surprised. Gustafa shrugged.
“Yeah. Not in all ways, maybe. But someone positive, who’s not from here, a free spirit.”
Willoughby laughed at that description of himself. “Yeah, right. What about Nami?”
“Hmm.” Nami. Gustafa fingerpicked his way through his thoughts. Nami was a traveler for sure, and she certainly thought about things more deeply and profoundly than half the people in this valley. As much as Gustafa did like and respect Nami…man, could she be a downer.
“I just feel more connection with you,” Gustafa said honestly.
Willoughby ducked his head and rubbed his nose. “Oh.”
Gustafa was also taken slightly off guard by his own words. He cleared his throat and searched for a different topic.
“Hey, I’m working on a new song. Want to hear a little of it?”
Willoughby nodded, making eye contact again though his cheeks were still a bit red. Gustafa strummed through the first verse of a song that was coming to him uncharacteristically slowly. He had the concept down, but the lyrics were tricky, and he was having trouble finding a melody that fit the emotion of the story. He sang through the first verse and tested out some experimental fingerpicking before giving up and asking Willoughby’s opinion.
“I like it a lot,” Willoughby said. “Have I told you yet how good you are at singing and the guitar and stuff?”
“That you have,” Gustafa laughed. “You should sing with me, sometime. I’ll learn some songs you like.”
“Oh, no.” Willoughby’s nose crinkled up. “You definitely don’t want that.”
Gustafa laughed again and Willoughby stood, dusting himself off. “I should probably get back to it. Cows are ornery, did you know that? No one ever talks about how ornery cows are.”
“Good luck with that.” Gustafa dipped his head at Willoughby, already strumming out something new, and Willoughby did another little wave as he headed back up the hill towards his farm.
Gustafa leaned his head back and soaked in the dappled sun through the leaves on the tree. Yeah. Willoughby was a really pleasant guy.
“Mind if I listen?” Lou’s voice asked. Gustafa looked over. She was hovering near the back of the inn. She smiled at him. How long had she been there?
“Sure thing.” He gestured her over with a grin.
○○○
The Blue Bar was one of Gustafa’s favorite places in the valley. Gavin had good taste in music and Muffy made good drinks. What more could you want in a bar?
This evening, Muffy was chipper. She hummed and swayed as she cleaned glasses. Gustafa spotted a flower tucked in the top button of her cardigan.
“You’re groovin’ tonight,” he commented. “What’s got you aflutter?”
Muffy huffed. “What accusation!” She winked at him. “Isn’t it enough to live in a beautiful little valley full of nice people? Is the depth and meaning of our human connections not reason enough to be cheery?”
Gustafa chuckled and swirled his drink. “I think you’re jazzed about whoever gave you that flower.”
She hummed and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “Maybe.”
Gustafa nodded and sipped his drink. She leaned on the counter and sighed.
“Oh, I can’t keep a secret from you. Plus, you’ll give me your honest opinion, right?”
“I’ll do my best,” he vowed.
“It’s that new farmboy,” she confided. “Although… Well, I suppose he’s hardly new anymore.”
Gustafa pressed the rim of his glass to his lips. He held it there while she spoke.
“Willoughby—he’s so nice, isn’t he? He’s always helping out and he’s so funny. Good listener, too. Don’t you think?”
Gustafa swished a mouthful of spiced liquor around his mouth. “Yeah, he really is.”
Muffy smiled. “See? You get it.” She sighed and grabbed a towel, turning her back on Gustafa to wipe down bottles. “And beyond that, he’s just charming, isn’t he?” When Gustafa didn’t respond, she waved a hand. “Not that I expect you to understand that, though.”
Gustafa sat silently for a moment before downing the rest of his drink. He set his glass on the counter with a quiet thunk.
“I do.”
Muffy paused, but when she turned around, she just saw the door closing behind him.
○○○
It only took like a day for Gustafa to chill out about it. For one, everyone was allowed to do whatever they want forever, and it didn’t jive with his whole deal to be upset about someone giving someone else a flower. Secondly, Willoughby gave everyone flowers.
Gustafa spent the morning sitting by his yurt with a good view of the road through the village. He watched Willoughby double back to give Chris a flower while she was on her way to work. He watched him prepare a whole bundle and make his way up to the villa. Out by the bridge, he made out the shape of him offering flowers to Celia. Eventually, he even came by and gave one to Gustafa himself.
Muffy was allowed to read into the act as much as she liked and she was perfectly justified in falling in love over it and whatnot. The way she read it had nothing to do with what Willoughby actually meant by it. Nobody was in the wrong—not Willoughby for being nice, not Muffy for finding it charming.
Gustafa did have to wonder why he cared about this.
Really, a lot of his thoughts were confusing these days. He made a general effort not to linger on things he didn’t understand, but Willoughby was in his thoughts more often, even after he’d cleared up this flower issue with himself. It made him restless, all this not understanding and not knowing. He found himself wandering more and feeling at a loss for what to do.
It was a morning where he was doing exactly that - nothing, wondering what he should do first - that there was a knock at his door. When he called for them to enter, Willoughby came in.
“Hey, farmboy.” Gustafa nodded at him. “Playing hooky from farm work?”
Willoughby shrugged as he closed the door behind him. “Maybe.”
“Groovy.” Gustafa took a seat on his sofa. “I wasn’t sure what to do with my morning, so your timing is perfect. Let’s chat.”
Willoughby wandered his direction slowly. He took long looks at all the instruments and odds and ends in the yurt. “You’ve got a lot of cool stuff here.”
“From my travels, mostly. The instruments are my real passion. Anything that makes music, I’ve gotta have.”
“That makes sense for you.” Willoughby sat down at the edge of the couch, leaving ample space between himself and Gustafa. He decided not to read into it.
“It’s hard to be inside, sometimes, for me,” he sighed. “When I’m outside, music just comes to me. I’m inspired by all the sights and sounds of nature. Inside, it’s a little harder. I find myself caught up in my thoughts.”
“Surely that can’t be too bad,” Willoughby said. “Your thoughts are probably a magical place to be.”
Gustafa laughed. “You think so?”
“Sure. You’re really fascinating.”
Gustafa hummed and leaned his chin in his hand. “Everyone in the valley is fascinating,” he deflected. “Hell, even the valley’s name is fascinating.”
“It’s named after a flower.”
“A flower that doesn’t even grow here.” Gustafa pushed his sunglasses up. “It’s sort of a romantic notion. Forget me not.”
“It is poetic.” Willoughby hummed thoughtfully. “Who named the valley, anyway?”
“Maybe,” Gustafa mused, “we all name the valley with our wishes. Who wants to be forgotten?”
Willoughby chuckled a little. “I like that. It’s true.”
“Right? Nobody likes to be forgotten.”
“I’ll never forget you.” Gustafa looked over at him. “Y’know, if you ever leave the valley. How long have you been here?”
“Not long,” Gustafa replied automatically. Then he remembered his thoughts from when Willoughby had first arrived. “Longer than I’ve stayed anywhere else, though.”
“I take it you like it here, then.”
“I do.” Gustafa smiled down at his shoes. “Pretty in an unreal fairytale way. And the weather is just perfect, every single season quintessentially represented. And good people.” He glanced up. “Really nice people here.”
Willoughby smiled. “I see where you’re coming from.” He dropped his gaze. “I’m liking it here, too.”
Gustafa stood up and stretched. “Like I said. You and I have a lot in common, I think.” He grabbed his guitar. “I’ve been working on that song more. You wanna head outside with me and hear the progress?”
“Absolutely!” Willoughby jumped up with a grin. “Music to my ears!”
Yeah, Gustafa thought as he took a seat under the tree and tuned up the strings of his guitar. Yeah, Willoughby’s pretty great.
○○○
Romana was a nice woman, overall, despite being a part of the ruling upper class, so whenever she requested that Gustafa come to the villa and talk music with Lumina, he generally obliged her. Although many in the valley felt comfortable visiting the villa and enjoying the gardens, Gustafa had never felt as at ease there. The gardens were too curated; nature preferred to run wild and untethered. The soft soles of his boots were better suited to the grass and earth near his yurt and the pond and dealt with the cobblestones less well.
Still, he was always repaid by way of one of Sebastian’s warm meals, and Lumina was a bright girl who was really very technically talented. He could play the piano, though he couldn’t fit one in his yurt, and he brought his guitar as well as a myriad of small percussives to embellish and keep time.
“You’ve got it down perfectly,” he told her after her third piece. “Truth be told, I’m not sure why you’re aunt has me come around. You play piano better than I could.”
Lumina sighed. “I think that’s exactly why she has you come,” she admitted glumly. “I think she would rather I play like you.”
Gustafa smiled at her, though he truly did not understand what she was saying. They were interrupted by the front door opening. Rock and Willoughby both entered.
“Hey, Lumina!” Rock called as he approached. He leaned on the piano. “How’s it hanging?”
Lumina huffed and collected her sheet music. “I’m well, thank you for asking,” she answered stoically.
Gustafa couldn’t care one way or the other about Rock. “Well, farmboy,” he greeted Willoughby, adjusting his hat. “Fancy seeing you here.” He stood to walk towards him.
“Moreso for yourself.” Willoughby shoved his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a new outfit today. The blue really suited him. “What are you doing out here?”
“Jammin’ with Lumina.” Gustafa shot her a grin. She was languishing a story of Rock’s and shot him a pleading look. He turned back to Willoughby. “What brings you by?”
“I’m fulfilling a request, actually.” Willoughby pulled off his rucksack and rummaged around. “Sebastian needed some eggs.”
“I didn’t know you give your farm products out for free. I love it, a real man of the people.”
Willoughby rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “Seriously, though, if you need anything, just let me know.”
Gustafa hummed. “How ‘bout you just surprise me?”
Willoughby’s eyebrows rose. He nodded. “Okay. Be on your guard.”
Gustafa laughed as Rock called out to them. “Hey, Gustafa, show me how you and Lumina play together. I’m curious.”
Lumina was rubbing her brow. Gustafa watched her shoot a glance at Willoughby and flush pink.
“Hey, I’m game,” he agreed. He pulled his chair back into place and took his seat, settling his guitar back into his lap. “You gonna listen, Willoughby?”
For some reason, Willoughby cringed a bit, but he nodded. He held the eggs Sebastian needed carefully in his hands and stood to one side to watch and listen. Lumina spluttered.
“U-Um, I’m sure Willoughby’s too busy, right?” She looked around. “Don’t feel compelled to stay…”
Willoughby waved her off. “No, no, I have to wait for Sebastian, anyway. Pretend I’m not here.”
Lumina turned to the piano, grumbling, and Gustafa fought a grin as he started strumming along to the complex piece she played. It was nice having someone to play music with, he could admit that much. But sometimes Lumina’s playing felt restrained, like she couldn’t break out of the bars on her sheet music to extrapolate and improvise at all. Maybe that’s what she was talking about—maybe that’s what her aunt wanted.
Rock started clapping before they were really done playing. “That’s great,” he praised, leaning against the piano again. “Hey, Lumina, teach me to play.”
“I don’t think…”
“That was nice,” Willoughby commented to Gustafa. “I like what you did there.”
“Thanks.” Gustafa laid his hands on the side of his guitar and sighed. “It’s nice having a jam partner. Especially since someone won’t sing with me.”
Willoughby rolled his eyes. The kitchen door opened and he turned his head. “Ah, Sebastian!” He glanced at Gustafa and waved. “Hey, thanks, I’ll see you around!”
“Take it easy,” Gustafa replied as the farmer scurried away. His fingers toyed with his guitar strings, lyrics and melodies dancing in his head as he gazed after him.
The meal Sebastian sent him home with was a fish stew featuring the eggs Willoughby had brought. It was good—really good.
○○○
“I wonder if they have anything new up their sleeves for this year.”
Cody grunted noncommittally, rubbing some dirt off of the side of his large, round art piece. Gustafa tilted his head back to look to the sky. The sun was already set, and its light had drained from the valley. Stars twinkled in the velvet blue above them.
“How about here?” Gustafa looked over. Muffy and Gavin were helping Nina and Galen find somewhere to set up their folding chairs on the beach.
“Wonderful,” Nina told them, nodding shakily. Galen clapped a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and offered his thanks. Gustafa blinked and looked past them. Down the beach, the twins were leading Willoughby along. They appeared to both be talking at once. Gustafa chuckled sympathetically.
“Nami,” Cody greeted. Gustafa stepped to the side to make room for Nami to stand between them.
“Finally,” she sighed, ruffling the hair at the back of her head, “a festival happening at a reasonable time of day.”
“Not a fan of the harvest festival?” Gustafa asked. Nami made a ‘blegh’ type face.
“I don’t really like soup.”
Gustafa smiled and shook his head. He looked down the beach again and saw Willoughby walking towards them. Relief washed through him. Finally, some good conversation.
“Hi guys,” Willoughby greeted them.
“Hey.” Gustafa dipped his head in a nod. Nami crossed her arms.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime,” she deadpanned at him. Cody scoffed as Willoughby flushed slightly in the dark.
“Every now and then I can stay out if I want,” he sniffed back at her. “Really, I go to bed at a very reasonable time, considering how early I get up to milk the cows and tend the chickens and water the fields…”
“Yeah, yeah.” Nami waved him off. Gustafa pushed his sunglasses up and turned a bit, putting his back slightly to Nami and Cody so he and Willoughby could engage in more pleasant conversation.
“First fireworks festival in the valley, yeah?”
“Yep, that’s right.” Willoughby patted something he was carrying under his arm and Gustafa realized he had a picnic blanket with him. “They had fireworks in the city, too,” the farmer went on. “There was a big, amazing park in the center of town with a lake in the middle. They used to set them off there. You could see all the light and color reflected in the water.”
“Sounds fantastical.” Gustafa smiled at him. “You planning to set up someplace to watch, then?”
“Um, yeah.” Willoughby rubbed the back of his head and bit his lip. “Yeah, I was actually wondering if, y’know… If you might want to sit with me. To watch the fireworks.”
“Ah.” Gustafa stuck his hands in his pockets and dropped his eyes to the ground. Well, golly. He glanced over his shoulder, but Nami and Cody hadn’t appeared to have heard, as they were busy discussing some of Cody’s art. Gustafa looked at Willoughby and smiled. “Well, yeah, that sounds groovy.”
“Really?” Relief softened the line of Willoughby’s shoulders. “That’s… That makes me happy.”
Gustafa felt heat pooling in his cheeks and he shook his head. “Let’s find somewhere on the beach, yeah?” He gestured for Willoughby to join him in walking that way.
Nami heard footsteps retreating behind her and looked over her shoulder. She watched their forms moving away through the night. “They’re friendly,” she commented.
“They’re friendly with everyone,” Cody agreed.
Nami scoffed. “They seem pretty friendly with each other.”
“Not my business.”
Gustafa led Willoughby down the beach towards the end of the valley where his yurt sat. There on the sand, they spread out the blanket and sat beside each other.
“Fate must’ve brought us both to the valley at the same time,” Gustafa commented. “These days, every time I’m wishing for something more fun or more positive to happen, you walk right up.”
Willoughby sighed. “If you say it like that…”
Gustafa laughed. “What?” He grinned lopsidedly over at Willoughby. Willoughby made a consternated face back at him.
“I like people who say what they mean,” he said.
Gustafa’s smile smoothed into something more genuine. “So do I.”
There was a distant whistling and then a firework exploded overhead. Gustafa stared directly into. He heard Willoughby huff a laugh.
“Can you even see that properly? Why don’t you take your sunglasses off?”
Good point. Gustafa chuckled and slipped them off, lifting his face to watch the next series of fiery flowers bloom above them. The light shimmered off the waves of the ocean. It was like the whole sea was celebrating with them.
“Amazing,” Willoughby whispered.
It was a small village fireworks show, so it didn’t last long. The final blast was the largest, and it glittered in every silvery color of the rainbow. The sparks wound through the black sky, slowly extinguishing as they fell.
“Fireworks are like a dream you never want to wake up from,” Gustafa sighed. “Gone too soon.”
He looked over at Willoughby, who nodded at him. “If only they didn’t fade so fast.”
It was like they were always on the same page. Gustafa loved that. Always on the same page, and yet, not the same paragraph. Similar perspectives, but always different ideas to share.
Willoughby shifted closer and leaned in and Gustafa blinked, surprised.
“Blue,” Willoughby laughed. “I’ve been wondering what color your eyes are.”
Gustafa felt suddenly very seen, without his sunglasses to hide where he was looking. He didn’t know what to do with his eyes. So he just held Willoughby’s gaze and forced a nervous laugh.
“You’re an interesting guy, Willoughby.”
Willoughby flushed and cringed again. “Ugh. Could you not call me ‘Willoughby’?”
Gustafa’s eyebrows shot up. “Whyever not?”
“It’s…goofy.” Willoughby scratched his nose. “I dunno, I’ve never liked it much.”
Gustafa wanted to tell him it was great. He really wanted to tell him how much he had grown to like Willoughby’s name. But as someone with a weird name himself, he knew that rarely helped. “What should I call you, then?” he asked instead.
“‘Farmboy’ isn’t bad,” Willoughby admitted quietly and Gustafa grinned. “Or just ‘Willo’.”
“Willo.”
“Oh, man,” Willoughby sighed. He looked up at the sky, twinkling only with stars now. “Good show, huh?”
Gustafa let him change the subject. “I loved every second of it. Charlie and Cole are crazy talented.”
“I’m glad I got to watch it with you.”
Gustafa punched him lightly in the shoulder. “That’s my line, farmboy. They sounded all the sweeter with someone to share them with.”
Willoughby laughed but it was cut off by a massive yawn. Gustafa stood.
“You’d better get home before it gets too late.” He held his hand out and helped Willoughby to his feet. “Thanks.”
Willoughby dusted off his trousers. “Why are you thanking me?” he asked.
“Thanks for inviting me to watch with you. It was my honor.”
Willoughby flushed red yet again, but this time he held Gustafa’s gaze and smiled.
♡♡♡
Gustafa took it pretty easy, but one thing he didn’t like was when his peace and quiet was disrupted by someone with a bad vibe.
“I didn’t know you were a reader,” Rock commented as he flopped down on the ground beside Gustafa. Gustafa lowered his book and tilted his head back, trying to gather strength and patience from the sun.
“I’ve been known to enjoy a book here or there,” Gustafa replied lightly instead of informing Rock of the stuffed bookcase in his yurt. He could see Nami rounding the inn slowly, trailing half-heartedly after Rock.
“I thought you were more of a music guy.”
“You’ll be jazzed to find out that one can be both.”
Rock laughed and kicked back, leaning against the same tree as Gustafa. “What’s it about?”
“Princesses, pirates, kidnapping, y’know.”
“Perilous.” Rock rolled his eyes. Nami finally made her way over to them and held her hand out for the book wordlessly. Taking a deep breath to absorb some more patience from the breeze, Gustafa handed it to her. She looked at the cover.
“I’ve read this one,” she said with some small amount of surprise.
“Yeah? Groovy. Don’t tell me how it ends.”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes and handed it back. “It’s good, though.”
“I’m diggin’ it so far,” Gustafa said, not-so-subtly raising the book in front of his face and trying to continue to read.
“Hi, Rock!” Muffy’s voice called from over by the bar.
“Muffy!” Gustafa felt Rock get up and hoped this would be the end of it.
“When I saw you all over here, I figured Gustafa was playing something new,” Muffy’s voice continued as it got closer. “But it seems I was mistaken.”
“Right? I told him, I thought he was more a music guy.”
Gustafa glanced up. Nami had turned to head back to the inn at Muffy’s approach. Muffy stood near Gustafa, her hands clasped behind her back. “What are you reading?” she asked nicely.
“It’s called The Princess Bride.” Gustafa showed her the cover and tapped a finger in the grass, hoping to elicit even more patience from the earth. Muffy’s eyebrows rose.
“Oh, I love that one!”
“You read?” Nami asked doubtfully. Turns out she hadn’t entirely retreated, after all.
Muffy glanced at her. “My mama used to read it to me.” She sighed dreamily. “Oh, I love a good romance.”
Rock was surprised. “A romance, huh?”
“Have you read it before, Gustafa?” Muffy asked.
“Nah.”
“Well I’m sure you’re liking it.” She beamed at him. “Where did you get it, anyway?”
The three of them looked at him, waiting for his answer, and Gustafa stood up, finally running out of patience.
“Gift from a farmboy,” he said simply before turning to amble back to the peace and quiet of his yurt.
♡♡♡
Summer seemed busy for Willoughby. With crops to tend and ornery animals to wrangle, it seemed he was always running here or there. Gustafa took comfort in the book he’d lent him. It really was a nice story, perfectly funny when it needed to be, and Gustafa now understood the joke Willoughby must have read into the nickname ‘farmboy’. When it came to Willoughby, Gustafa felt like he didn’t have any anxieties. He liked Willoughby and Willoughby liked him. It wasn’t really in his character to get caught up in the hows and the whys. He just felt like the two of them understood each other.
The other villagers, though, were grinding his gears a little more often than they used to. Not all of them, mind you, but Rock and Nami were on his case in a way that seemed less than respectful and Muffy and Lumina considered themselves half in love with Willoughby. Even Chris had touched a nerve with one of her questions. Gustafa found himself much preferring people who minded their own business, like Celia and Lou and Cody and the twins. Gavin wasn’t so bad for music and conversation, but Muffy was generally right there with him, and well, Gustafa didn’t like being in conversations where he felt like he was biting his tongue.
So he played his guitar by his yurt or behind the inn less frequently and found himself walking up to the pond in the forest more and more. The forest was equally as inspiring. He’d worked through more of his song about the dwarf in love and was really sort of pleased with how it was coming along. He thanked the Harvest Goddess’s spring for that.
In such a way, he found himself with his guitar slung on his back walking up the path to the forest one midday and noticed how the leaves were turning. He supposed the weather had been cooling down. He realized autumn had come before he’d fully processed it. His mind wandered to Willoughby just over at the farm. Without thinking too hard about it, he doubled back to duck onto the farm.
Gustafa realized he hadn’t really been to the farm since Willoughby took over. He’d come by a couple of times in his first couple of years in the valley to help Takakura with a thing or two here or there, but he hadn’t checked in on how Willoughby was running the place. As he stepped out of the trees and approached the pasture, he realized what a world of difference it was.
It was a sunny day, and the animals were out. Gustafa hadn’t seen so much as a squirrel on the farm all the times he’d been there before, but now cows, several sheep, and a horse all grazed on the tall grass that swayed in the breeze. He could see chickens on the other side of the paddock pecking at the ground. A floppy-eared dog ran through the flock, yapping at an insect it chased, and all the chickens fluttered and crowed in protest.
Gustafa shook his head a little as he walked around the back of the pasture. There were fruit trees standing in one of the fields, some of them already flowering, and neat rows of crops just sprouting in another one. The soil was rich and dark and Gustafa could smell earthy fertilizer on the young plants.
He had just looked up to take note of the farm house when the door opened. Willoughby strolled out and stopped short when he saw Gustafa. “Howdy, stranger,” he called. Gustafa smiled and approached him.
“Man, you’re really all-in on this farmer thing, huh?”
Willoughby beamed at him, adjusting his suspenders. “I do nothing by halves. What brings you around here?”
“Well, I was on my way for a walk through the woods, and I just realized I’d never checked out your farm.” A half-truth, but a truth still. “Then I wondered if you might want to join me for my walk.”
“Oh, gee.” Willoughby’s joy was palpable and Gustafa basked in it. “I’d love to!”
“Groovy.” Gustafa stuck his hands in his pockets and started ambling to the forest, Willoughby keeping pace. “It’s such a nice day for a stroll.”
“You’re telling me. The weather has been lovely the past few days.”
“Exactly. Autumn is here at last. I get so much inspiration whenever the seasons change.”
“I’m sure ready for autumn,” Willoughby sighed. “I expect fruit on the apple trees any day now. It’ll be nice to cut back on the seasonal crops and rely on the fruit trees.”
“You were busy this summer,” Gustafa agreed as they entered the walk that led to the woods. “Actually, it seems like you’ve been busy since you got here.”
Willoughby hummed in agreement and stretched his arms over his head. “Busier than I was in the city, believe it or not.”
Willoughby talked about the city a lot, but never in detail. Gustafa wondered what his life was like there. He wondered what made him want to come to the valley.
“I feel like I should apologize,” Willoughby said, snapping Gustafa’s attention back.
“Whatever for?”
“For being so busy, I suppose?” Willoughby shrugged and kicked a pebble. “You know, uh, I felt like at the fireworks festival we…connected. And I would hate for you to think I just turned around and ignored you after that.”
Gustafa shook his head. “No way. I get how busy you are on the farm. Hell, not even—I bet I couldn’t begin to imagine. I didn’t get my feelings hurt.”
“Oh.” Willoughby nodded, looking off through the trees. “Good.”
Gustafa adjusted his hat on his head. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t wanted to see him, though. “Well, actually,” he started quietly. “I came to the farm because I was thinking about you as I was going on my walk. I noticed the changing leaves and wondered if you might have time now that it’s getting cooler.”
Willoughby smiled a little. “Yeah, I missed you, too.”
Gustafa grinned. “You always know just what I mean.”
They came to the bend in the path and Gustafa led him through the grass towards the waterfall. “I always love coming here,” he sighed, letting the cool mist settle over him. “There’s something soothing about waterfalls.”
“There really is.” Willoughby sat on a tall rock and swung his legs. Gustafa leaned against the rock beside him.
“You’re not pushing it too much, are you?”
“No, sir.” Willoughby shook his head. “Whenever I’m getting tired, I think ‘What would Gustafa do?’ And then I do that.”
Gustafa clambered up to sit beside him, being careful of his guitar. “I’ve been working on that song more. Would you like to hear it?”
“Absolutely I would.” Willoughby leaned back on his elbows. “Lay it on me, man.”
Gustafa plucked a pleasant melody string by string before he launched into the next verse of the song. Although he had played all the parts together while on his own, it was kind of fun unveiling each part of the song to Willoughby as it came to him. Willoughby, for his part, just leaned back and closed his eyes, listening to Gustafa’s melody. When the verse was over, Gustafa transitioned into some of his favorite instrumentals. They sat there by the waterfall for a while, enjoying the peace and the music.
When Gustafa eventually stopped playing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the book Willoughby had lent him. He reached down to grab a flower and closed it into the pages of the book.
Willoughby sighed and Gustafa looked over at him. He was laid flat on the rock, his eyes still closed. “Like a dream I don’t want to wake up from,” he murmured. Gustafa smiled to himself and pushed his glasses up.
“I won’t take up your whole afternoon,” he said. Willoughby immediately sat up.
“You’re not,” he said quickly. Gustafa chuckled. He couldn’t help it. He leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“The more I’m around you, Willo, the more I want to be around you,” Gustafa admitted, still leaned into his ear. “I’m practicing moderation.”
Willoughby covered half of his face with his hand. “Didn’t we just practice moderation all summer?” he asked hopefully. Gustafa shook his head fondly.
“A man can only take so much in one day.” He tapped the book in his hand a couple of times before holding it out to him. “Thanks for lending me this, farmboy.” He grinned. “I really liked it. And thanks for spending time with me today.”
Willoughby took the book from him in a daze.
“And hey, Willo?”
“Yeah?”
“I know you’re doing it to be nice, but…maybe you shouldn’t go around giving everyone in the valley flowers. You’re going to break hearts, man.”
Willoughby blushed. “That’s not what I wanted.”
“I know,” Gustafa laughed. He stood. “Come see me when you’ve got time. I know you’re busy, though, so don’t sweat it.”
Willoughby smiled at him. “Moderation, huh?”
“Hey, I’ve got lots of religious texts about it! Come check them out sometime!”
Willoughby’s laugh followed Gustafa as he loped back down towards his yurt by the sea, feeling warm as ever in the coming autumn chill.
♡♡♡
Gustafa liked the harvest festival. It was entirely in line with his vibe—communal celebration of the bounties of nature. It was nice to see everyone in the valley come together, and he always liked to use it as a chance to converse with people he didn’t see often.
Vesta provided most of the vegetables for the soup, but everyone tried to pitch in, and Gustafa couldn’t help but feel pleased watching Willoughby contribute turnips and sweet potatoes. He looked forward to a really good festival. He helped ladle out a bowlful of the hot soup for Nina and stopped over to talk with Lou about the flavor profiles for this year’s broth.
Muffy had Willoughby cornered, and as much as he wanted to go rescue the guy from the conversation, he did feel like Willoughby had to handle this on his own. He tried not to mind them as he mingled. Gavin caught him to talk about plans for this year’s starlight concert, and when Gustafa turned around after he’d left Nami was standing behind him.
“How’s it hangin’?” he asked. The festival seemed to be winding down a bit. “I thought you didn’t like the harvest festival?”
She shrugged. “It’s free food, isn’t it?” She looked out at the meager crowd as she spoke to him. “Did you finish reading that book?”
“The one from Willo?”
She shot him a look. “...by?” Gustafa tacked on. “Willoughby?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes, I did. I returned it.”
“I like that one. It’s not, like, a favorite or anything,” she added defensively, “but I like it. How did you find it?”
“I found it charming.” Gustafa nodded. “A book with a good sense of humor.”
“A fan of funny books, huh? Those aren’t exactly my forte, but I probably have a few I can recommend from my collection.”
Gustafa smiled, pleasantly surprised. He’d absolutely read a recommendation from Nami, especially if it was actually upbeat. “For sure, man. Swing by and drop one off, I’ll give it a read.”
She nodded, still not looking at him, and walked away without saying anything else. Gustafa accepted it as one of her Nami-isms and went about collecting a few bowls, taking them into the inn to wash them in the sink. He’d only just started scrubbing when someone came up beside him.
“I’m not the only one with a couple of admirers, it seems.”
Gustafa shook his head. Willoughby grabbed a dish towel and Gustafa handed him the bowl he’d just finished washing. “I think I’m more of an acquired taste,” Gustafa protested lightly.
Willoughby hummed. “Some people are quick to acquire it, I suppose.”
Gustafa just laughed. They washed and dried in companionable silence for a bit.
“Did you enjoy the harvest festival?” Gustafa eventually asked.
“I did. Though Van made a less-than-kind comment about the quality of my produce.” Willoughby rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling.
“I thought it was great. It was only made all the better by your additions.”
Willoughby bumped his shoulder a little and smiled at him. “If you want to taste more of my crops, I’ll bring some to you. Or I can even cook up some meals and bring you those.”
“Hey, that would be great.” Gustafa grabbed all the spoons and scrubbed at them. “It’d be better, though, if I had someone to share them with.”
Willoughby nodded. “When I have time, I’ll bring something over.”
For a moment, Gustafa just stood there and marveled at his luck. Not only had he finally found someone he liked, but they just so happened to be the nicest and most hard working person on the planet. “I’d love that.” Gustafa set all the spoons in a rack to dry and turned to face Willoughby. When he did so, he saw Lou standing in the doorway holding another stack of bowls.
She blinked and made an apologetic face at him. “Thank you two for cleanin’,” she said, causing Willoughby to turn around as well. “You didn’t need to do all that.”
“Least I could do,” Gustafa assured her. “He who does not grow crops should wash dishes.” Lou giggled at him
“Is there anything else we can do to help?” Willoughby asked her. She waved him off, coming over to put the bowls in the sink.
“You two have done enough. I know the festival’s windin’ down, but there’s still a beautiful autumn day out there to enjoy.”
“Thank you for hosting,” Gustafa said to her. He followed Willoughby back out onto the lane. Some people were still milling about, but many had meandered away. Gustafa caught Muffy’s eye down by the bar and waved. She turned fully around and pushed her way into the bar.
Hm. Maybe Willoughby had told her like it is, after all.
What was how it was, anyway? Suddenly, Gustafa felt he might be presuming a little too much. A kiss on the cheek sure didn’t mean they were dating.
Willoughby grabbed his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. “Hey, wanna head to the beach? I’m hoping to catch some fish before Van comes this weekend.”
Gustafa nodded and followed him down to the sea. Cody was wandering down at the other end, and he nodded in acknowledgement to the two of them. Gustafa sank down to the sand as Willoughby splashed out into the waves.
“Do you like fish much?” Willoughby called to him as he cast his line. Gustafa shrugged.
“Not so much as I like some other things.”
Willoughby smiled over his shoulder. “May sound strange, but I don’t like them much at all.”
Gustafa laughed and Willoughby turned back to his float, watching it bob in the waves. Gustafa swung his guitar off his back and plucked out a little melody, letting the waves influence the rise and fall of his tune. He watched Celia and Marlin taking a walk through the prairie behind his house. Celia giggled at Marlin and reached to take his hand.
Chris and Sully were walking down the hill, as well, with Hugh running full speed ahead of them. Chris tilted her head sweetly at Sully and he wrapped an arm around her as they walked.
Gustafa wasn’t stupid. Touch was inherent to a romantic relationship, and a romantic relationship was what he and Willoughby had brewing. But it wasn’t clearly defined, right now, and crossing that boundary felt somehow daunting, somehow disallowed.
He strummed his guitar thoughtfully and turned his gaze back to the farmer fishing in the ocean. Maybe the time for taking it easy was over. Maybe it was time to take definitive action.
♡♡♡
Willoughby trudged back up to his farm. He wiped some sweat from his eyes and went to the fridge to throw in Van’s rejects—a small wakasagi and some little scads. Well, that was all fine, anyway. He’d just cook with those…despite not liking fish. He sighed, shook his head, and went over to the blue bin to grab the bird feed he’d asked Takakura to bring back.
He packed the huge bags of birdseed into his little rucksack and grabbed the G sitting in the bottom of the bin—his profits. It wasn’t bad, by any means. Not since he’d gotten the sheep. He counted it out and then looked around the farm.
He wasn’t doing badly. The farm was up and thriving, he had chickens out the wazoo, and the apple trees really had given him a break from tilling and watering and all. All he needed were the peach and orange trees to improve before they fruited next year…and being able to make his own fertilizer would be nice…and he really should invest in a cheese maker…
He glanced behind himself at the farmhouse and sighed. It would also be nice to expand the house a little…make room for someone else. His eyes drifted over to the hutch by the fridge, his thoughts lingering on the delicate blue feather that rested on the shelf there.
Willoughby shook his head and turned to collapse and close the blue bin. Just as he was about to, though, he spotted something else at the bottom. Probably another note from those spazzy nature sprites. He rolled his eyes and plucked it out, turning it over.
When he saw ‘Willo’ scrawled across the envelope, he knew who it was from. He turned and leaned against the table, opening the letter and scanning its contents.
Hey, farmboy,
I know you’re busy, so I figured I’d catch you this way. It’s supposed to be a beautiful night, so I thought if you’re up for it, we might meet at the Blue Bar for a drink. I’ll be waiting there around 8 this evening. Hope to see you there.
G
Willoughby smiled as he folded up the letter. Some kind of excitement roiled inside of him. This sort of felt like the first official date invitation he or Gustafa had exchanged. He glanced down at himself. He’d change it up a little, try out the new getup he’d gotten from Van, pick all the straw out of his hair. With a little spring in his step, he headed towards the pasture to get the animals inside.
♡♡♡
Gustafa was curiously devoid of nervousness as he made his way towards the bar that evening. Autumn was warm still, though the season was getting late, and it was going to be a perfect, clear night. He made his way up the hill slowly, watching the last bits of color drain from the sky.
Gavin had some real relaxing music going when Gustafa pushed his way into the bar. It built the perfect vibe. He went up to the bar where Muffy was ticking off an inventory list.
“Takin’ it easy, Muffy?”
She looked up and smiled begrudgingly at him. What a relief. She hadn’t stayed mad at him for taking her man. “I’m trying to,” she sighed, “but Gavin just keeps giving me more and more to do.”
She shot a glare at the back door, and Gustafa laughed and shook his head. She turned back to him, still smiling. “Can I get you a drink?”
Gustafa hummed and tilted a pleading eyebrow at her. “Maybe in a minute? I’m meeting someone here.”
He could read the understanding in her eyes. Her smile didn’t go away, though. She just nodded at him. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”
She turned her back and started counting liquor bottles, and Gustafa tapped his fingers on the wooden bartop as he watched the clock. Gavin came out after a couple of minutes to check Muffy’s work. Gustafa, who didn’t feel nervous just unsure if Willoughby was coming, tried to tune them out. He tapped his foot along with the mellow music Gavin had going.
He didn’t have to wait long. After just a couple of minutes, the door swung open and Willoughby strolled in. Gustafa tried to dampen his smile. Willoughby looked great. He didn’t even have any straw in his hair. Willoughby grinned at him and leaned against the bar beside him.
“Is this the farmer we know and love?” Gustafa joked. He reached out and brushed imaginary dust from Willoughby’s shoulder. “There’s not a scrap of dirt on him.”
“I clean up pretty good,” Willoughby agreed. Muffy laughed and they both turned to her.
“What can I get you boys?” she asked them.
“Usual, 8 ounce,” Gustafa said easily. Willoughby glanced around.
“Uh, same,” he stammered. Muffy nodded and turned to pour their drinks.
“It’s a privilege to have such a nice bar in our little valley,” Gustafa said, nodding at Gavin when he shot him an appreciative glance. “Even just being able to toast to a great day is one of the honors of this life.”
“Hear, hear,” Willoughby agreed. He toasted an imaginary glass. “Here’s to a good day...hopefully.”
Gustafa grinned at the implication. He looked over Willoughby’s clothes. They were clearly new and looked very warm.
“It’s getting cold already, huh?” he commented. Willoughby nodded.
“Yep.” He sighed. “Apple season is already over. Back to turnips and strawberries for me.”
“Sorry to hear that. I hope you don’t get too busy. Remember to take it easy.”
“I know, yeah, yeah.” Willoughby smiled at him. “Thanks for looking out for me.”
“Any time.” Muffy set their drinks down on the bar and Gustafa nodded to her, pulling the necessary G out of his pocket. “Thanks, Muffy.”
“Sure thing.” She tossed the G in the register and leaned on the bar, smiling at them. “You’re two peas in a pod, the two of you. What are your plans for the night?”
“Muffy,” Gavin drawled in reprimand. “Come over and finish this, leave ‘em be.”
Muffy rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it later,” she whispered to them before she sashayed back over to Gavin. Gustafa chuckled and picked up his drink.
Willoughby lifted his glass as well, inspecting it. “It’s small,” he commented.
“It’s strong.” Gustafa held his glass out and Willoughby clinked them together. “Cheers, huh?”
They both sipped their drinks and Willoughby’s face scrunched up. “Oh, it’s sweet.”
“It’s cinnamon mead,” Gustafa informed him. Willoughby nodded and took another tiny sip, making that face again. Gustafa grinned. “What’s your usual drink of choice?”
“Uh, Christmas wine?” Willoughby shrugged. “I’m not much of a drinker—never was in the city, anyway.”
“That so? Very contrarian, aren’t you? That’s the narrative everyone sells of the city.” Gustafa gestured to illustrate his point. “Bars and clubs and socialization.”
Willoughby laughed. “Not for me.” He shook his head. “I was more of a…work, home, walk in the park kind of city slicker.”
Gustafa hummed. “Guess this place was really appealing to you, then.”
Willoughby nodded. He took another tiny sip of his drink and almost didn’t cringe. “Yep. I’d been out here a couple of times in my youth, my dad brought me by to see Takakura and stuff. But he left the farm decades ago, moved to the city with my mom…kept his stake in the farm, though.”
“So is that why you came out? Your dad asked you to take over his share of the responsibility?”
Willoughby shook his head. “No.” He looked up at Gustafa and shrugged. “He died about three years back, now.”
Oh. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Gustafa said quietly. “I didn’t know.”
“Aside from Takakura, no one does.” Willoughby took a deep breath and smiled. “Anyway, I found the deed to the farm in his things… Figured I’d give it a shot.”
Gustafa whistled and finished his drink, placing the little glass down on the counter. “That takes guts.”
“Pfft.” Willoughby rolled his eyes. “C’mon, you travel to crazy, distant places all the time.”
“That’s different. I’ve always been like this—even as a kid we were on the move. But to get up and leave what you know for something else…” Gustafa leaned his elbow on the bar, not really cognizant of how close he and Willoughby were getting to each other. “That takes something special.”
Willoughby’s eyes softened and he sighed, also leaning onto the counter as he gazed at Gustafa. His voice was so quiet and gentle when he spoke. “Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
“I can’t finish this mead.”
Gustafa chuckled and straightened up and Willoughby placed the delicate little glass into his outstretched hand. When he’d downed the latter half of Willoughby’s drink, he looked around. Muffy and Gavin weren’t in sight; he could hear their voices from the back room discussing demand for so many varieties of whiskey.
“Willo.” Gustafa’s fingers crept along the wooden bar and tapped tentatively at Willoughby’s. The opening and upturning of the palm was invitation enough to hold his hand. “It’s such a clear, pretty night. Would you take a walk with me? I bet we could see crazy stars.”
“I’d love that.” Willoughby started to step away from the bar but stopped. “Wait.” He fished in his pocket and slipped a couple extra G onto the counter. He shrugged at Gustafa’s questioning look. “She deserves it.”
They stepped out into the night together with their hands clasped between them. The insects of summer were long gone, and as a result, the night was pretty quiet aside from the odd owl and the buzzing and zapping of Daryl’s generators. Gustafa led Willoughby down towards the swamp, stopping just short of the marsh so they could look up at the sky together.
There were more glittering lights above them than could ever be imagined. Gustafa sighed and squeezed Willoughby’s hand as all those distant places waved hello from the past.
“I love stargazing,” Willoughby said quietly. “You can see so many stars out here.”
“Me, too.” Gustafa took his sunglasses off and took another look. He was even more blown away. “All these real stars are out there in space just twinkling away on their own. Sometimes I feel like they’re trying to tell me something.”
Willoughby hummed and Gustafa looked over at him. His skin was luminous in the starlight and his eyes reflected the heavens in all their glory. “What do you think they’re trying to say?” he asked in a daze.
Willoughby pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Let me think…” All of the sudden, though, Gustafa knew exactly what the stars were telling him.
Gustafa tugged on Willoughby’s hand, pulling him close. Willoughby’s starry eyes moved to him and Gustafa leaned in to press a kiss to his mouth. Willoughby’s free hand landed on Gustafa’s shoulder and held him there, prolonging the kiss for another moment or two before they broke away.
“Maybe some things are better not put into words,” Gustafa whispered.
Willoughby sighed. “Some things. Not all things, though.”
Gustafa smiled apologetically at him. “You’re right.” He hooked one arm of his sunglasses into the breast pocket of his jacket. “Some things should have been put into words a while ago. Sorry about that, Willo.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“Tell me what words you want to put to it. It would be my honor to be whatever you want.”
Willoughby slipped a hand into his pocket and bit his lip. “Um.” Gustafa waited patiently. Eventually, Willoughby withdrew his empty hand from his pocket. “Can we just say we’re…going steady?”
“We sure can.” Gustafa smiled really big and looked down towards the sea. “Groovy.”
“You’re, um…great. In case I haven’t said that before.”
Gustafa had to think about how to say what he wanted to say in the least corny way possible. He landed on “You’re like a song the world wrote just for me,” which was still pretty corny, but Willoughby smiled anyway. “Speaking of songs,” Gustafa went on, “I think I finished up the last verse of the one I’ve been working on all year.”
Gosh, all year…nearly an entire year spent working on this song. That was longer than he’d ever spent before.
“I’d love to hear it,” Willoughby said. Gustafa led him over to the tree outside his yurt and ran in to grab his guitar. They sat there in the cool night and Gustafa played the last verse of the song, the part where everything worked out and they all lived happily ever after. When he was done with that verse, he put his hands on the strings to stop them and looked up at Willoughby.
“That was great,” the farmer told him earnestly. Gustafa smiled dreamily at him and watched as he shivered.
“Cold out here,” Gustafa noted. “You coming inside with me?”
He watched a flush dye Willoughby’s cheeks as he looked away. “Ah, man,” he sighed. “I have to get up early.”
Gustafa nodded and stood, holding a hand out to hoist Willoughby up as well. “You always have to wake up early. I should swing by the farm more often, help out.”
Willoughby huffed at him. “You don’t have to do physical farm labor just for an excuse to hang out.”
“Well, I feel like I should try learning it.” Gustafa shrugged. “Seems relevant to me.”
Willoughby smiled so sweetly. “I’ll show you any time.”
Gustafa nodded. “Groovy.” He put his sunglasses back on and Willoughby chuckled at him. “Hey, walk home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“What happened to moderation?” Willoughby joked wryly as he backed up the hill.
“All out the window.”
Gustafa watched Willoughby trek back up to his farm and glanced at his yurt. No way he could go in there. Now he was all antsy with excitement. He picked his guitar up and ambled down along the beach, plucking out quiet, pleasant melodies until deep into the night.
♡♡♡
“You were up late,” Cody grouched. Gustafa was holding a metal plate in place for him. Cody slammed his hammer down on it and Gustafa tried not to cringe at the sound.
“Sorry. Hope I didn’t keep you up.”
“Nah. It sounded good.”
“What are you talking about?” Nami asked bleakly from where she stood watching them. She gave Gustafa an almost nervous look.
“Gustafa and the farmer playing guitar until midnight.”
“Willo went home at a reasonable hour,” Gustafa defended.
“Right.”
“Are you guys ever gonna say anything about it?” Cody slammed his hammer repeatedly on the metal. It started to take on a nice, rounded bowl shape. “Announce your engagement and whatnot?”
“We are not engaged.” Gustafa sighed and stretched his shoulder before taking hold of the metal sheet again.
“I told you,” Nami grumbled.
“You want me to move this? Rotate it?” Gustafa asked.
“Yeah, here.” Cody helped maneuver the metal so a different part rested in the bowl mold. “So you’re not engaged.”
“No.”
“Told you,” Nami said again, louder.
“Dating?”
Gustafa glanced at Nami. She was looking at him intently. Honestly, she was giving him a weird feeling. “We’re going steady,” he said lightly, as if it was no big deal.
Cody scoffed and slammed his hammer on the metal again. “See? You act like nothing is happening, but something totally is. This is why people pester you.”
Nami just raised her eyebrows. She didn’t say anything.
“I didn’t figure it was everyone’s business,” Gustafa said. He didn’t snap, Gustafa was not one to snap, but he maybe said it with less of a chilled-out demeanor.
“Guess you’re right,” Nami finally said. “Anything I can do to help here?”
Cody shook his head and she turned around and walked back towards the village. Gustafa let out a long breath.
“Could’ve gone worse,” Cody reasoned and Gustafa laughed before the sound of metal slamming together made all pleasant emotions leave him. “And now everyone who had hopes for either of you knows, right?”
“Think so.”
“Good. So when you do announce your engagement—”
Gustafa groaned. “Can we just smash this metal in silence?” Cody smirked and slammed his hammer down, drowning out any hope for conversation.
♡♡♡
“So you’ll be playing the whole time?”
“Yeah, mostly.” Gustafa tuned the last string on his guitar and slung it off, picking up his strumstick. He plucked the first string and twisted the tuning knob. “Gavin plays a few songs with me, Muffy sings sometimes, Lou and Tei will occasionally break out the dizi and guqin and play a duet.”
“What about Lumina?”
Gustafa smiled. “If she wants to drag her piano out here, she’s welcome to.”
Willoughby laughed. Night was already falling and it was chilly down beside the bar. Willoughby was dressed warmly in thick clothes and an extra jacket, and even Gustafa had given in and grabbed a scarf and some fingerless gloves. Chris and Sully had left Hugh’s window open and Gustafa could hear the sounds of them putting him to bed. Gavin came out of the Blue Bar with his own guitar and loped over to them.
“Are you ready to get started?” he asked Gustafa. He noticed Willoughby and nodded in greeting.
“Sure am, as soon as everyone has gathered.”
Gavin grunted some kind of assent and looked at Willoughby. “You comin’ to the concert with anybody?” he asked. “Muffy said it’s a great opportunity for a date.”
Willoughby coughed into his hand and looked at Gustafa. “Well, um. I think my first choice is a bit busy tonight.”
“Oh.” Gavin looked at Gustafa, who shrugged. He thought Gavin knew. “Oh, well. I see. That’s right, ain’t it.” Gavin seemed more embarrassed about this whole situation than Gustafa or Willoughby, so Gustafa decided to close the topic.
“You can hang out up front by me,” he told Willoughby. “When I’m not performing, we can watch together.”
Willoughby smiled and nodded. “That sounds great.”
Everyone was starting to congregate - Gustafa even saw Takakura making his slow way down to them - so he got the concert started. He struck off with some classic folk tunes everyone could sing along to and then had Gavin join him for a more bluesy number. Muffy wanted to sing, so Gustafa left her and Gavin to it and he plucked out a sorrowful backing to her lounge-style singing. Gustafa stood beside Willoughby and they watched and listened.
“She’s so good,” Willoughby whispered.
“I’ve told her before, she could make it big.” Gustafa wrapped a tentative arm around Willoughby. He was still getting used to taking these liberties and being physically confident with his farmboy. “You should sing something with me.”
Willoughby rolled his eyes. “I told you before, nobody wants that.” Muffy finished her song and the group clapped for her. Gustafa went back to join Gavin at the front and Muffy, beaming, flounced over to talk to Willoughby.
“How did I do?”
“Fantastic.” Willoughby grinned at her. “You’re so good!”
Gustafa and Gavin played a few more songs and then they cleared away for Lou and Tei to play some traditional music. Gavin ran inside and grabbed a chair for Nina to sit in and Galen thanked him profusely.
As the concert wound down, Gustafa stepped up alone and played a few slower original songs of his before leading everyone in Auld Lang Syne. He’d always thought it was the perfect song for winter, when the new year hovered on the horizon. As he played and the group sang, he looked out over the inhabitants of their little valley. Not everyone sang, but most did. Gustafa’s eyes touched on Nami, lingering at the edges of the crowd in the back. He looked over at Nina, who sang with her eyes closed and a peaceful look on her face. When he looked at Takakura, he wasn’t singing, but he wore a sad expression.
When Gustafa turned his attention to Willoughby, he was pleased to see he was singing—or at least looked like he was. Willoughby smiled when Gustafa met his gaze, and Gustafa couldn’t help but smile back.
“Have a nice night, everyone,” Gustafa called out when the song was done. “Thank you for joining us. If you liked it, come around again next year!”
The group clapped for Gustafa and there were calls of thanks to him and Gavin.
“Look!” Sully’s voice called. “The stars!”
Gustafa looked up. Five or six shooting stars whirled by overhead. Willoughby came to stand beside Gustafa, also watching the skies.
“Gotta think quick and make a wish,” Gustafa told him. Willoughby hummed and closed his eyes, furrowing his brows in thought. Gustafa turned his gaze skyward again.
Work it all out, he asked of them. Let’s live the rest of our days happily together.
Willoughby opened his eyes. “Make your wish?” he asked Gustafa. He nodded.
“You?” Willoughby nodded as well. Gustafa smiled. “I won’t ask you what it was.”
Willoughby smirked at him a bit. “I bet you could guess.”
Gustafa started gathering his things and Willoughby helped carry some percussives. They headed down the hill towards the yurt.
“That was really wonderful,” Willoughby sighed as they walked. “I’ve never been to such a cozy concert.”
“Have you been to many concerts before?”
Willoughby shrugged. “Once or twice. Big ones in the city.” He bumped Gustafa’s shoulder with his own. “I liked this better.”
Gustafa smiled at him. “This is my fifth starlight concert here. I think they get better every year.”
“In which case, I look forward to next year.”
They got to the yurt and Gustafa pushed the door open. It was dark inside, so Gustafa quickly put the guitar and strumstick somewhere safe and lit the lantern on the table at the center of the room. Among the tall, dancing shadows, they worked together to put all the instruments back where they belonged.
Gustafa tucked his scarf and gloves into their drawer and Willoughby shook off his extra jacket and sat on the couch with a sigh. “How does it stay warm in here?”
“It usually doesn’t.” Gustafa was going around lighting a couple more lanterns. The yurt was a bit brighter, but still shadowy and cozy. “The lanterns help a little bit, being fire and all.”
Willoughby shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re sleeping out here in the cold.” He bit his lip as he looked around, seeming thoughtful. Gustafa sat beside him on the couch.
The last time they’d sat there together, Willoughby had seemed so far away. This time, Gustafa sat close enough that their shoulders touched. He took off his sunglasses, truly unable to see with them in the flickering light.
“You’re pretty good at this romance stuff,” Willoughby commented. Gustafa’s eyebrows shot up.
“Well, I’ll be! That’s a real surprise to hear, no joke.”
“How so?”
“I feel like I’ve been fumbling my way through.” Gustafa shrugged. “I’ve never done this before. All I could do was be honest and be myself.”
Willoughby smiled. “Well yourself is really great. Honesty is working for you.”
“You don’t say.” Gustafa hummed. “I’ll keep it up then.” He leaned a little closer to Willoughby. “I’m so jazzed you’re here right now.”
Willoughby leaned in the rest of the way and kissed Gustafa softly. Gustafa’s hands shook with adrenaline, but he placed one at the small of Willoughby’s back, pulling him a bit closer. There was never such a warm moment in Gustafa’s life that he could remember. Just the flickering light, the remnants of music echoing in the bones of the valley, and his tender farmboy falling into his lap. Willoughby’s fingers traced along the hair at Gustafa’s jaw and he pulled back for a shaking breath.
“Cold?” Gustafa checked. Willoughby shook his head, his lashes low and oh so pretty in the tremulous dark.
“You?”
“I’ve never been so warm.”
Willoughby’s cheeks flushed, but this time Gustafa knew it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was all pleasure. He sighed and rubbed Willoughby’s back. “You have to get up early tomorrow.”
Willoughby didn’t answer. He just buried his face in Gustafa’s neck. Gustafa chuckled at him. “I’m not trying to make you leave,” he whispered.
“You make me want to stay.”
Gustafa wrapped his arms around him. “You can. It’s up to you.” This was a boundary for Willoughby to define on his own.
Willoughby was still and quiet for a moment before he slowly extricated himself from Gustafa. He stood up and sighed, looking down at him.
“I’m coming back for you.”
Gustafa raised an eyebrow, unsure what he meant. “Like, tonight?”
Willoughby smiled. “No, man. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
For this? Or for some other purpose? Gustafa waved those thoughts from his mind. It didn’t matter. He stood up as well. “I look forward to it. I’ll see you around tomorrow.”
Willoughby slipped a hand to the back of his neck and gave him one more kiss. “Take it easy.”
Gustafa laughed as he picked his careful way across the yurt in the flickering half-dark. “That’s my line, farmboy.”
♡♡♡
It was snowing the next day and Gustafa did something he’d never done before. He went outside and tried to build a fire purely to keep warm.
He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but part of him insisted he had gotten too comfortable in the coziness of the night before. The winter cold had never bothered him much in his yurt until he was missing someone else’s warmth. He wandered around by the swamp looking for twigs or logs he could use to make a little fire.
“Hey!”
Gustafa looked back at his yurt to see Willoughby waving at him. He abandoned his search for firewood and loped back to the yurt.
“Hey,” he called. “Did you come back for me?”
He was joking, but Willoughby nodded seriously. “I did.”
“Right on.” Gustafa leaned against the tree and put his hands in his pockets. He tilted his head. “You look like you have something to say.”
Willoughby’s breath was shallow and he kept half-raising his hands. “I do,” he admitted.
“Alright.” Gustafa tried not to let his confusion show on his face. Willoughby seemed nervous enough for the both of them. “Lay it on me.”
“Okay.” Willoughby rubbed his hands on his trousers. “I love you.”
Gustafa’s eyebrows rose as heat flooded his face. Willoughby went on before he could say anything.
“Also, um, will you take this?”
Willoughby was handing him a blue feather.
Gustafa stared. A blue feather. He’d seen them in the magazines Muffy was always reading. A blue feather. People bought them for their loved ones. They gave them as engagement presents.
A blue feather, man.
“I-I found it,” Willoughby stammered out defensively. “I didn’t buy it. I’m not rich. You should know that before you answer. I mean the farm’s not doing badly but—”
“Take it easy,” Gustafa said gently. He stepped forward and cupped Willoughby’s hands with his own. “You know I wouldn’t accept this if you were rich.”
“I know,” Willoughby huffed. “That’s why I’m explaining it.”
Gustafa smiled at him. His mind was still reeling. “This is the first time I’ve seen one of these in person.” He couldn't believe it; he had to check. “You know what you’re asking?”
Willoughby nodded. “To get married.”
Gustafa’s smile felt like it was going to break his face. “I accept,” he breathed just before wrapping Willoughby in a hug. Willoughby chuckled breathlessly and held him in return, even swinging him off of his feet slightly.
“That farm work is paying off,” Gustafa laughed in surprise. He held Willoughby at arm’s length, just smiling at him dopey style. Willoughby gave him a lovestruck grin in return.
“No more cold winter nights in your yurt,” he said with some satisfaction and Gustafa raised an eyebrow.
“Hey, I’m tellin’ you now—I wanna keep the yurt here, even after we’re hitched. It’s one of my favorite places in the valley. It’ll make a good songwriting pad.”
Willoughby nodded along, still smiling. “Anything you want.” Gustafa shook his head fondly.
“Oh.” Speaking of songwriting. “Wait here.” Gustafa ducked into his yurt to grab his guitar and came back out. “I have a gift for you, too.”
“Oh?” Willoughby sat on the log bench and stretched his legs out.
“The song I’ve been writing.” Gustafa sat beside him. “It’s done. I thought you might grace me by being the first person to hear it played through.”
“I’d love that.” Willoughby folded his hands in his lap and Gustafa started playing.
It felt weirdly fitting, the story he’d thought up so many months ago. It was like the tale was prophetic. Looking for love and finding it in yourself…understanding yourself through your interpretation by another. Seeing all the ways you and your lover were different—and all the ways you were the same. The snow was falling slowly and sparingly and Gustafa felt in love with the season, in love with the moment, despite the cold.
He finished up the song and turned to Willoughby. “Wha’d’you think of it?”
“I think it’s perfect.”
Gustafa laughed. “I hope you don’t think every song I write is perfect. I need genuine feedback and criticism.”
“Yeah, sure.” Willoughby waved his hand around. “But this one is perfect.”
Gustafa took Willoughby’s chin in his hand and gave him a chaste kiss. “Oh, there’s something I forgot to say.”
“Yeah?” Willoughby quirked an eyebrow questioningly.
“I love you, too.”
“Oh, what do I even do with you…”
Gustafa laughed and leaned his elbows on his guitar, looking out over the valley. Well. He supposed they would, actually, need to announce their engagement soon. Cody would be smug. Gustafa didn’t care.
♡♡♡
“Howdy.”
Gustafa looked up as he climbed the hill to the farm. Willoughby was standing in the pasture leaning on the fence.
“Hey, farmboy.” Gustafa met him at the fence. “I hope you don’t expect me to start saying all that farmer stuff.”
Willoughby sighed dramatically. “I knew it. You’re not committed to the farm lifestyle.”
“Hey, now, I’m super excited to be a part of your farm.” Gustafa spread his arms. “That's the whole reason I’m here today.”
“Oh yeah? You want a tour?”
“Lead the way, man.”
Willoughby hopped the fence so he could walk Gustafa through the farm and its buildings. Gustafa wasn’t kidding. He wanted to pull his weight on the farm, and based on the tour, there was lots of weight to pull. Willoughby walked him through the barn and explained briefly the duties of shearing, milking, brushing, and feeding. They walked through the pasture and Gustafa met the animals while Willoughby lamented harvesting feed grass. Willoughby showed him the back hill of the farm and talked about plans for a new field back there before walking him through the fruit trees and the meager winter crops. In the bird coop, Willoughby tried to explain how incubating the eggs worked and showed him how to handle the chickens properly.
By the time they made it to the farmhouse, Gustafa was slightly exhausted, and he hadn’t even done any actual work. They went into the house and Gustafa peered at everything curiously.
“It’s small,” Willoughby said. He rushed over and half-heartedly made the bed. “Takakura has some ideas, though. When I told him about us getting married, he walked me through all the options to expand.”
Gustafa could see it. A kitchen in the back, maybe another bedroom some time in the future. “This is a great house,” he said resolutely. “I think I’ll feel perfectly at home here.”
“Really?” Willoughby sounded relieved. Gustafa grinned at him.
“Anywhere you are, farmboy.” Willoughby stepped closer and wrapped his arms around him.
“Good,” he sighed. “I was worried… I don’t want you to feel trapped.”
Gustafa shook his head. He held Willoughby out at arm’s length. “I feel in the perfect mood for a song after seeing your perfect farm. Care to join me outside?”
The two sat in the shade by the woods and Gustafa improvised a chord progression on his guitar and made up some lyrics as they came to him. As he sang, Willoughby hummed along, staring up at the clouds rolling by or smiling over at Gustafa. Gustafa nudged him.
“Hey, sing along this once?”
Willoughby sighed but nodded. Gustafa sang the beginning of a verse to set him up.
“The wind, the wind was wild and free,
Without a care, without a clue.
Then, one day it saw a tree,
And closer, timidly it blew.
The tree, it laughed and shook its leaves,
And then, the wind, it knew…
‘So, I’m in love with you…’”
He looked over at Willoughby and nodded for him to pick it up. Willoughby’s eyebrows pulled together.
“Um… But loving the wind was hard to do,
The tree was so bereft.
It drooped so sadly every time,
The wind had gone and left.”
He made a face and shook his head, but Gustafa smiled. He continued the story.
“But the thing about that loving wind,
Is that it does not disappoint.
It comes back every now and then,
The tree with which to join.”
Willoughby clapped and Gustafa laughed at him. “No, really,” Willoughby insisted. “That was a killer save from my awful lyrical choices.”
“Hardly,” Gustafa chuckled. “It was an imperfect rhyme.” Willoughby rolled his eyes as Gustafa set his guitar aside. “You sing pretty well. You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”
“I do not. Your little song only had like four notes, which I assume you did for my sake. And I can never remember the words…”
Gustafa noticed something over Willoughby’s shoulder and leaned around to see what it was. Willoughby turned around also.
“Ah.” Takakura walked out from where he’d been lingering at the entrance to the farm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, just heard the music and all…”
“Takakura,” Willoughby complained under his breath, flushed with embarrassment. Gustafa stood and helped him to his feet as well.
“Thanks for the tour of the place,” Gustafa said. “It’s seriously my honor to be coming to live here. I hope I can be of some use.”
Willoughby shook his head. “You and I both know usefulness does not equal worth.”
Gustafa smiled and pointed at him, noting the reference to Marx, as he slowly started walking away. “I won’t hold you up any longer. See you around, farmboy.”
He smiled and nodded to Takakura on his way out.
“It was a good song,” Gustafa heard Takakura telling Willoughby. He smiled. He was really going to like living on the farm.
♡♡♡
Muffy had gotten over any self-consciousness she’d felt, apparently. She threw her arms around Willoughby before the two of them had really finished their sentences.
“Congratulations!” she enthused. “I’m so happy for you! Oh, what a romance…”
Willoughby was bewildered by this, but readily accepted her congratulations. Gavin just told Gustafa he was glad this meant he’d stay in the valley. He liked having a jam partner. Muffy hugged Gustafa as well and then pointed out Nina and Galen behind them, who had been alerted to some kind of going-on by all the noise.
Nina, Galen, Chris, and Sully all offered their congratulations and up at the villa Lumina was only nominally disappointed. Romana asked them to come in but Gustafa politely declined and they made their way down the hill. Cody was waiting for them.
He wasn’t nearly as smug as Gustafa had expected. He just seemed pleased that they were pleased. Daryl held conversation with Willoughby about the farm longer than Gustafa expected and the twins offered congrats before returning home. The inn was similar; Lou and Tei were pleased, Rock hardly remembered he ever suspected there was something between Willoughby and Gustafa, and Nami stood quietly to the side.
Vesta offered loud congratulations and Celia and Marlin confided that they had similar plans they weren’t ready to publicly announce yet. When Vesta’s lesson for Gustafa about produce went on a little too long, Takakura came out and cut her off, letting the two of them go home.
Inside the house at long last, with some of Gustafa’s things moved in, they finally had a chance to relax. Willoughby flopped onto his back on the bed and Gustafa stood by the window, watching the dog sniff around in the yard. He felt antsy from all the change—new house, new responsibilities, new husband, he thought it was forgivable to be a little off-kilter. But when he truly dove down to the center of himself, there was just tranquility and joy.
Here he would settle. Here he would build his life. If you’d asked him when he arrived here almost five years ago, he'd have told you the future couldn’t be certain.
Now it could. He turned away from the window and went to sit beside Willoughby on the bed. Willoughby opened his eyes and smiled at Gustafa.
“Hey, farmboy,” he whispered, “do something for me?”
Willoughby nodded, sitting up a bit. “What?”
Gustafa tapped his bottom lip and Willoughby grinned. “As you wish,” he chuckled just before cutting himself off with a kiss.
The future was certain, to Gustafa. Here, they would have a wonderful life.