Chapter Text
“...? You’re supposed to give that to someone who likes you.”
March knew he said that in the beginning of summer, but he deeply regretted it. He hadn’t expected to grow so close to her over the course of two seasons.
Ari had crept into his heart so easily when he tried so hard to keep her out. For all of spring, he built walls and fortified it with cruel remarks and jabbing taunts like heads on a stake, hoping to deter her and keep her out, but she persisted for months, blasting through his ramparts like a determined savior and selfishly claiming his heart as hers.
She didn’t hide her attraction to him. She was boisterous and obvious with her advances since day one, but after getting clearly rejected, she still came to him like a moth to a flame, though with much less intensity. It seemed her intentions had shifted more towards camaraderie and friendship rather than attraction and obsession.
When he first met her, he had thought she was naive, moving to his hometown and expecting to just fix it with no real experience. But she did, in many ways. She had reopened the mines and helped his business, had fixed bridges and buildings, had fulfilled countless requests and forced her way into the hearts of everyone, including him, with her overwhelming kindness and determination.
Now early-September, they became close friends. It was inevitable, with how often she came to see him. He grew attuned to the sound of her boots against cobble. He could pick out her voice amongst the chatter of the Saturday Market. His body reacted to her before his mind could – his heart thumped when she praised his work and his muscles relaxed to her earthy scent when she leaned over his desk, ore cradled in her palms.
They bantered, poking fun at each other with competitive spirit whenever they crossed paths. She was funny and witty and snarky and ambitious. Only she could keep up with him, and he liked that – liked her . The realization wasn’t unexpected, nor was it sudden. It came to him slowly in the middle of summer as he was working at the forge, and he yielded to the warm sensation fluttering in his chest at the thought of her.
She had conquered him and plagued his mind, but he didn’t fight his attraction to her. No, he let it linger in the corners of his heart, unsure of what to do now that he had harshly turned her down. So he did what he knew best: he ignored it.
Though when he felt particularly regretful and indulgent, he would entertain his fantasies of ‘what if’s right before he slept: what would it be like to date Ari, to live with her, to be able to hold her in his arms?
She’d wake up earlier than him, leaving an Ari-shaped space in his bed where he would lay until 6:30, hair mussed from sleep. He’d reach over to her, grasping empty sheets, only to realize she was already up and completing her farm chores, then he’d crawl out of their nest to a hastily written note on the bedside table full of hand-drawn hearts.
She’d come back at around 9 just as he’d begin smithing, soil on her clothes from her farm chores. When he wasn’t hammering or handling any hot coals, she’d surprise him with a back hug, making sure to rub the soil onto his shirt and leave her mark, claiming him and giggling as he’d wrestle her off with empty threats between his own airy chuckles. He’d give her a proper hug and she’d yield, allowing him to kiss the crown of her head as she nuzzled into his neck.
Then she’d step onto his steel-toed boots and tiptoe to kiss him on the lips, promising him perfect ores from her mining expedition. Then he’d wish her a safe trip and she’d leave, and their intimate and domestic routine would repeat again the next day.
It was like a rehearsed dream that left him feeling empty, yearning for more. He’d wake up the next morning with a heavy chest and a permanent frown, hammering away with aggravated vigor and barking at anyone who interrupted. Even Olric and Ryis knew to give him extra space on those days.
…
March slumped forward on the bar table, laying his cheek on his arms to look – really look – at Ari, who stood with Valen and Juniper. She threw her head back and laughed at the interaction between the two ladies, exposing her collarbones and drawing his gaze to the column of her neck. His thumb swept across the condensation gathering on the cool glass of his beer as his eyes roamed over her, feeling the buzz of alcohol humming through his system.
He would have never guessed that she was a farmer by trade, given the way she dressed. Her hair was put up in a ponytail, with tangled strands framing her face and sticking to the sweat of her neck. Her skin tanned nicely from the brutal summer sun, with tanlines almost as bad as Hayden on her upper arms. Her form-fitting tank top revealed an average figure, but his eyes lingered on her well-defined shoulders and arms, a drastic difference from when she first arrived, all thin and pale and weak. Her top was tucked into denim shorts that hugged the dense muscles of her thighs, which flexed as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, using her foot to scratch at her strong calf.
March gulped, sweating. Since when did she look like that ?
“You’re really drinking that up, huh?” someone asked him.
“Yea, she looks really different,” he said quietly, keeping his cloudy gaze on her.
“Huh? No, I meant your beer.”
He jolted upright, a flush on his cheeks, and turned his head to see Ryis tending to his own beverage, brow quirked in confusion. March looked down at his own glass and realized it was nearly empty. Ryis squinted at him, suspicious.
“Just how much did you have to drink? Are you wasted already?”
“What? No, that was only my second one,” he said defensively.
At the sound of Ari’s sudden laughter that stood out amongst the buzzing of the inn, he instinctively turned to her but realized a second too late that Ryis was still next to him. Blaming the alcohol for his burning cheeks, he looked back at his friend and saw a mischievous gleam in his eyes and a smirk. Ryis chuckled and took a long gulp.
“Oh, I see now.”
“No the fuck you don’t. Hemlock, another!”
Ryis laughed at his diversion and pulled a seat next to March. “So,” he began, “you gonna go with her to the Shooting Star Festival? It’s next week and everyone’s dying to know.”
Embarrassed, March rubbed his face. Why was everyone up in their business? They weren't even dating. “No,” he grumbled roughly, overcompensating to hide the guilt in his voice, but Ryis, trained from years of friendship, easily picked up the tone difference.
With furrowed brows, he asked, “What’s up?” He hoped that the alcohol would help loosen his friend’s lips.
March sighed remorsefully as he stared at Ari. She was animatedly talking about her latest adventure to Reina who was dishing out food behind the bar. Ari stuck her chest out, a faint but proud grin on her face when Reina doubled over to laugh hysterically. His chest ached but also felt a little numb. Maybe he should go see Valen.
“She actually asked me” – he ignored Ryis’ anticipative gasp – “but I turned her down.”
Ryis groaned, smacking his forehead and rubbing it tiredly. “Dude, seriously?”
“Don’t give me that! She asked me on the first day of summer when I barely knew her,” he sneered, crossing his arms petulantly. Hemlock placed a beer in front of him and gave him an understanding smile having overheard their conversation. He ignored it, nodding his thanks and taking a large gulp, beginning to feel his body loosen up. His mind was starting to slip, and he groaned as he rested his head on the bar top, “I’m such an idiot.”
He stared longingly at Ari, who was blissfully oblivious to his dilemma as she flitted around Eiland’s Dragons and Drama campaign to briefly chat. He pouted and glared. Why won’t she come and talk to him already? Ryis, aware of his friend descending into drunkenness, patted his shoulder and got up with the intent of calling Ari over, but March grabbed his sleeve.
“Don’t leave,” he whimpered. The carpenter rolled his eyes but didn’t sit down. March was unpredictable when drunk; he could be boisterous and chatty or needy and clingy, and right now, he needed Ari. He just hoped she’d come over quickly.
Sitting back down in defeat when March gave him a pathetic look, he sighed and ordered another glass from Hemlock. He was going to need it.