Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day the farmer married the good Dr. Harvey, was both the worst and best day of my life. To have seen her so tremendously happy, glowing with the inner beauty only she could posses, made me happy. But to see her hand wrapped around his arm, not mine, and walk down the aisle to their honeymoon, very nearly disintegrated my heart to nothing but the grains of sand that surrounded my beach side shack. Damn me for being so shy, so meek. If only I had the courage to express the way I had begun to fall in love with her, perhaps our fates would have been different. I had thought that dedicating my book in her name would be enough for her to see how I felt, how much I felt. But as it was too late, the only thing I could do was to extend my blessings upon the happy couple and kiss her cheek. Her blessed cheek, soft and warm, like her eyes when she told me about her reading addictions and her life back in the city. Soft and warm like how I'd imagine her embrace to be as I would have held her body to mine. I sighed and let her go, surrendering her to the man who waited by her side. Harvey was red all red cheeks and shy smiles, perhaps in awe at his new wife, and new future together. I shook his hand and waited the polite amount of time before escaping to my lonely cabin.

I woke the next day to rain splattering on my window, the leak in the roof guaranteed to need fixing again. I needed to start the sequel to my book, the following of my work growing everyday. It was a bitter thought, however, that took me back to her. Her smile while she sat on the floor to read the manuscript. Her laugh as she commented on a witty line I'd written. I sighed, rubbed my eyes and willed myself to fall into the oblivion of sleep. It was still early, I could work later. I could fix the roof later. Later.

Swearing was a rare utterance from my mouth, and yet recently I hadn't cared to reign in my language. The keys of my old typewriter were stuck, again. Maybe it was my frustrated typing, the rhythm I seemed to lack or my personal frustration that made the machinery jam more often. Maybe it was that my mind wondered to places and bodies that were not mine to wander to.

Whatever the reason, jamming keys were becoming a constant hassle and I was at my wits end. She would laugh and tell me to upgrade to newer technology whose keys never jammed. It was always a heated discussion between us on this topic. I would say “Those machines, of which you are fond of, suck the life out of the words and out of the work.” Thinking I had won, I would smile smugly. She would only raise an eyebrow and sass me for being right. She had known what is was like to be stuck at a desk, feeling emotionally drained by the constant work. While I worked for myself, I still kept strict deadlines and targets to achieve. Otherwise how would I get any work done? Now that my muse is away on her honeymoon, I would have to force my motivation to start on distracting myself from her.

I first heard of her return at Pierre's store. He was talking excitedly with the Mayor, anticipating her arrival in time for the summer season. Poor Pierre; he was doing it hard since Joja moved to town. The farmer had helped boost local economy, but with her away Pierre was back to square one. She was coming back though, but it would be with him. They would start their lives here... together. It must have been the blanched look on my face that drew the concern of Leah, one of my dearest friends.
“I haven't seen you around much.”
“No, I've been working on the sequel.” I tried a smile but it felt off. I felt off.
“Do you need someone to read over the manuscript?” she was asking out of pure concern for me, I could tell. But Leah wasn't her. She didn't have the same understanding of my work. Leah was a physical artist. She was hands on art and her hands were beautiful for all her hard work. But she could never fully understand the world of my literary art. We were two artistic souls who spoke different languages.
I tried to politely decline her offer but it must have sounded strange because then she insisted I spend some time with her. So I accepted and followed her to her own reclusive hideaway.

“Did you hear, they come back on Monday!” Leah made tea while I appreciated her latest works. They were different, a new style for Leah to try out perhaps. There was still one on the easel, covered up, so I tried not pry while my curiosity burned bright like a star. She handed me a mug and started to talk about the postcards she'd received from the couple. I had also received them but was not game enough to glance at her neat and loopy messages on the back. I had hidden them in the desk draw where I kept other things best forgotten. I stared blankly at the collection of canvases stacked against the walls, trying desperately to distract myself.
“Oh, I see you're curious about my new works.” She smiled coyly, twirling her hair between her fingers. I was well aware that Leah found me attractive. But I hadn't the heart to address her feelings when I myself felt so inept to deal with my own.
“Ah, yes. It's a new style for you.” I tried to keep up the small talk for the benefit of Leah. Being rude to my dearest friend was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Can I show my secret project?” a wicked smile played on her lips before moving to her easel. I know how hard it is for artists to show their unfinished works, so I appreciated her attempts to cheer me up.
With a smooth flick of her wrist, the sheet fell away to reveal the single most beautiful painting I had ever seen. She, the farmer, rode on a horse the colour of moonlight upon a darkened scene of the forest. Her body revealed for the viewer to see, hair flowing and smile devious like she was caught in the act itself. Her limbs flowed like pale water against the dark tones of the forest. Shapely and beautiful, she rode among the stars. Leah with her arms crossed looked smugly at me; me who could not think of a single word to compliment her work. Me, who was currently mouth open. Staring at the painting of the woman my heart was dedicated to.
“Is it alright?” She asked, now shifting from amused to worried.
“It's … magnificent.” I managed to whisper, eyes watering slightly “However did you paint this?” I asked for lack of anything else to say.
“I had her pose for me. I've been doing life drawing studies with her, do you want to see?” She asked and all I could manage was a nod. Leah pulled out her sketch book and showed me numerous figure sketches. All of her.
Her back, her legs, her bosom, all there depicted beautifully in Leah's art. She was beautiful, her personality shone through the sketches.
However my eyes were always drawn back to the canvas that sat proudly on Leah's easel, it had captured my attention completely.The walk home was a blur, the only thing I could see was the painting, glued to my eyes. It was no surprise to me that I dreamed of her riding her horse through the inky night, myself chasing after her.
“Elliott” She beckoned to me, laughing giddily as the horse carried her around my mind “Elliott, follow me!” she again beckoned and I obeyed. I chased her through the forest of my mind, feverishly trying to reach her. But I could not move fast enough and soon I could not see her. I was surrounded by the dark forest and I was alone. She still called for me from somewhere unknown, but I could not reach her. She was a star that had disappeared from my night sky.

I awoke with her name on my lips, spoken like an early morning prayer. Whispered into the dark emptiness of my cabin, as if trying to summon her to me. But she had never listened to me before now, why would she start?
The morning passed easily with me at my typewriter trying to capture this dream I had. I tried to describe the way she shone like pure starlight. I tried to tell the reader how truly magnificent she was but words failed me. More papers, crumpled and scrunched, crowded the floor around my feet. It wasn't until someone knocked on my door that I realised how much time had passed. It was seven hours, maybe more, spent slumped over my desk trying to capture her on paper. But such a goddess could not be portrayed by mere words.
“Come in.” I called and heard the door open and close, soft footsteps leading to my desk. I dared not to look, in case I found her standing there. With her kind eyes and glowing skin. But it was Leah who spoke up, signalling her presence.
“I brought you something to eat. Willie mentioned that he could hear you cursing and typing.” She laughed and placed a plate with a beautiful salad for me.
“Thank you.” I replied but couldn't help the disappointment that leaked from me. It wasn't her and it might never be again.

Chapter Text

It had been weeks. It felt like longer, a self imposed purgatory upon my life. They were back a week before summer, right on schedule to save Pierre from his debt. That Monday morning lead me into town, the weather most agreeable for a casually paced stroll. I heard the couple before I actually saw them and stopped dead in my tracks, avoiding sight of them by mere footsteps. They were moving boxes and things from Harvey's apartment and taking them to her farmstead. And so I found myself, hiding just behind the Stardrop saloon, where I waited and listened. Listened to them talking, planning how they would fit both of their belongings together. It hurt like I was someone had set me on fire and left me to rot there, alone and miserable. My breath was short and pained. I felt sick to my bones deep inside. And so I ran. I ran so hard and fast, I'm sure I've never been so breathless in my life. In my cabin, slumped against the door, I could catch my breath. My chest began to slowly loosen, allowing me to a chance to calm down. They were back already and living their lives. Living her life without me.

I looked at my desk which was littered with scraps of writing, dribbles of verse really. The weeks I had dedicated to the thought of her, to the pursuit of her and her horse were nothing but words. She had not an ounce of knowledge of how much time spent of my life, filling my mind with her. I would have been sick, had I eaten anything at all. When was the last time I had anything to eat?
With those thoughts spinning around my head and void of any answers, I decided to be brave and have lunch at the Stardrop Saloon instead of hiding behind it. I could afford this little splurge if it meant my mind would cleared of this swirling abyss of thoughts. However, just to make sure the newly weds would be gone, I waited an hour. This arduous hour gave me a chance to build up courage and steady my fraying nerves.

Lunch was spaghetti and beer which was, as always, excellent and full of soulful flavours. The few glasses of wine were also of the most excellent quality, had me feeling chatty and comfortable. It was a nice development from the consuming sadness which had become my friend and ally the past few weeks. Gus, who seemed happy to have a customer for the lunch hour, was more than delight to aid me waste time laughing and joking. I tried (in vain) not to reveal my secrets to the friendly old bar keeper. Gus, who was notorious for coercing the most deepest thoughts from people when they least expected it. He played the role of the open ear, to whom you could talk to and confess, all the while stock piling information about the residents. He never used is against them but the faux familiarity would always grate my nerves. Fortunately, I deemed myself above the expectation of regular intoxicated bar goers. After all, my grace and charm not only aided my charismatic persona, it also served to clouded people's judgement of myself. This small trait I possessed didn't assist me this time; I let slip exactly how morose I felt about the newly weds coming back to town. After saying my goodbyes and departing a tad more inebriated than I thought, I decided to stroll around town, everything looking cheery in my tipsy state.

The weeks passed with aggrandized dreams of her atop the moonlight horse, riding naked through my mind; teasing me with torturous promises. Sometimes I would catch her, hold her close to me, only for her body to dissolve into starlight. Other times I could catch her and kiss her before waking, her exquisite name once again on my lips. I exalted her to Yoba on a daily basis. Hoping someone would hear my prayers, hoping she would hear me.

When the morning of the Luau unexpectedly crept up on me, like it always has and always will, I made the decision to pull myself out from the wreck I was becoming. Dressing smartly, combing my my lengthy locks into their standard style and adding a light dabbing of aftershave. This ritualistic routine concluded positively, I felt human, I felt like myself again. I was hopeful that today was going to be a marvelous day.

Everything proceeded smoothly; I greeted the Governor with a charming smile and a good joke which he seemed to enjoy. He always mentioned that one of these days he would buy a holiday home here in the Valley. But I knew him better than the rest of the folks here, even if he didn't remember me. I met him and his wife in the big city back when I was attending college; I dated their daughter briefly and in secret. She had managed to smuggle me into one of the larger galas held at their mansion which was the same size of the Valley itself. While the Governor was mostly a jovial fellow, his wife was a sour and malicious woman. Her disdain for the smaller regions which her husband reigned over, always seeped through her glamorous exterior. She would never allow him to buy a house here but perhaps it was the getaway he needed.
As the other villagers started to arrive, I held my breath, waiting for her. Leah came to keep me company, making small talk. She wore a summer dress and let her hair down into its natural wavy way.
“You look lovely.” I risked a compliment as she seemed overly eager for one.
“Oh, thank you.” Her cheeks reddened as she looked away.
“What did you bring to put in the soup?” She asked me and I produced a very vintage bottle of red wine.
“Naughty. Shall we go and put our ingredients in?” I followed her to the podium, Marnie eyeing the bottle of wine curiously. I winked in her direction as I poured the contents in slowly. She continued to stir and say nothing more. Leah contributed the best quality of red cabbage I had ever seen. This year should yield an exquisite tasting soup.
We took our post by the dance floor, watching Emily move in her hypnotic expressionistic way, her limbs moving like the waves of the ocean nearby. She was almost enough to distract me, almost. Then the farmer walked in, holding hands with a bashful Harvey. For a moment I imagined myself in his place, not timid or shy. I would show her off on my arm. Showing everyone how beautiful she truly was. We would have made an attractive couple, our souls were forged from the same star. I watched her talk to the Governor and Lewis, both of them laughing heartily with her. Harvey shook both their hands and retreated to his wife's side. Husband and wife. They were married and there was naught I could do. My mood darkened and I regretted sacrificing the bottle of wine to the soup. I needed a drink.

The soup was a superb success, as I had predicted. The farmer had contributed some high quality cheeses which gave the entire dish a different dimension of flavour. And then it was over, I had survived the Luau horror for another year. Emotionally drained and over stressed, sleep came easily that night and for the first time in a while I had no dreams of the farmer who rode exposed under the moonlight. I was undecided if I preferred to dream of her or not.

Two weeks had passed and I found myself making friends with empty bottles of wine. My drinking wasn't excessive per se, but deep down I suspected it wasn't healthy to drown myself into sleep. Sleeping drunk meant escaping the dreams, and in this dreamless bliss I had found my escape. As it turns out, not dreaming of her dulled the pain slightly. Only slightly.

Three days before the Dance of the Midnight Jellies, a basket of fruit and other artisanal goods was left on my door. A note with her loopy handwriting was with it. It said something about making sure I ate properly and taking care of myself. Which, admittedly made me feel bad about my drinking routine.
To her credit the basket was filled with the summer fruits and vegetables that she grew on her farm, my favourite of all being the pomegranate jam. I shoved her note into my desk oubliette of a drawer and sat down to have a decent meal, from now on I would only drink sparingly. While I was busy burring myself with alcohol, my motivation had plummeted to the depths that surely only hell itself would know. In two weeks I hadn't worked on the sequel or even my side project involving the feverish pursuit of her. I was missing deadlines which was unacceptable and unprofessional. The publishers would want an update soon and I had nothing but the crumpled mess that adorned my floorboards. But perhaps a sequel was not in the works, perhaps another work was forming in the dribs and drabs I had managed to type about her and the dreams. I madly set to work, clunkily typing away, snacking on the best Millennial Farm could offer me. Or more aptly, the second best it could offer my personal desires. The three days flew past, a new channel of communication opened with my editor. The company were thrilled that I was working at all, which a relief to all involved. More drafts would have to be sent through over the following months. Months which I would devote all my time to writing about her and I.

Dance of the Moonlight Jellies. It was a sight to behold no matter how many years you attended. The luminescent jellyfish breathed hope into the residents of Stardew Valley, who prepared for the oncoming fall and winter. The ceremony was the last glimpse of life and light before the seasons consumed every shade of green in its path.

I attended out of pure habit and convenience of proximity to my abode. I did not go early to sit by the docks in hope that she might also be early. I did not eagerly await her arrival, husband in tow or not. Everyone arrived before she did which rendered my punctual attendance completely ineffectual and pointless. I argued with myself over what my true motives were, scowling at the dark sea before me.

Leah once more found my side, which I was grateful for, fearing being lost to my thoughts like being lost at sea; destined to drown.
“What a perfect evening for the jellies.” She remarked, also looking out to sea but with an entirely different perspective.
“Let's hope this year shows us twice as many as last.” I smiked and looked over to Leah and then to her. She was radiant and smiling, talking to Evelyn, lost in her own world. Oblivious to me and my reservations of her marriage. She was most definitely unaware of my feelings entirely, this entire fantasy flowing only one way. Could it be that I was fancifully indulging myself, convinced that our union would be superior to the one she had chosen? She looked up and caught my eye, smiling and waving. I froze, though only for a second before smiling charmingly for her. Of course it was this moment that Lewis decided to launch the light boat. Leah excitedly wrapped her arm around mine and I am ashamed to say, I closed my eyes and pretended it was the farmer warming my side, her body leaning against mine under the stars. For just the smallest moment, I could believe it was true.

I hear gasps from the villagers around us and open my eyes to see everyone looking at the newly wed couple who are wrapped around each other. No, they're not looking at them, they're looking at the water in front of them where the largest pink jellyfish any of us had ever seen flaots elegantly before them.
“It's the Queen of the jellies.” Willy gasps from somewhere beside us.
“The Queen is blessing their marriage.” Leah breathes from beside me. My own breath hitches, my throat feels constricted and my chest starts tightening again.
“Praise Yoba.” Lewis exclaims, palms up, eyes closed and face turned to the sky.
“Praise Yoba!” Everyone follows, exalting the blessing and the couple who are looking at each other with the most tender love I've ever seen. My heart sinks, and I feel violently ill.