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"It's hard not to like him," the farmer confided to Sophie, their voice hushed.
The two were in the town square, sitting on the edge of the fountain. Last they saw Arata, he was meandering around the windmills with Wilbur and Isaac. Not taking any chances, the farmer's eyes did a quick sweep of the area, before leaning back to Sophie.
"And it's not just because he's hot. Well, he is hot, but"—Sophie giggled, and the farmer felt their ears burn—"you know what I mean. He's sweet, caring, and you know that he always means well…I told you about the tea and milk thing, right?"
"You did," Sophie whispered. "He's always been so attentive. Just last week he helped Father and I with some heavy items at the bazaar."
"Exactly!" The farmer flinched at their own raised voice and looked around. Coast clear, they lowered their tone. "Exactly. Arata makes me feel so safe, appreciated and happy. Seen."
There was more to it, though. Ever since Arata had opened up to them during that fateful hurricane, the farmer's crush turned into something all-consuming.
If his family was going to fail at being a family, then the farmer would eagerly step in their role. Because Arata deserved to be loved. He deserved to be loved, appreciated, respected, and so much more.
"I want him to know that, but it's…hard," the farmer said, finishing their thoughts out loud.
Hard didn't even begin to describe it. Arata was always busy, bumming around Samir, helping with the windmills, or working on projects he took on during the bazaar. As if his schedule wasn't enough of a pain, getting him alone—without Samir—seemed impossible.
Now, Samir was nice, if a little closed off, but the farmer really didn't want him there when they eventually confess their feelings to Arata. And, to be honest? They had no idea how he felt about them. Like, clearly he was okay with their company—their little walk around town last week was a good sign—but…still.
"Maybe I should get to know Samir more," the farmer mumbled, kicking their foot against the wall of the fountain. "He's Arata's best friend and all…"
Sophie giggled. "I don't think you should worry. He talks about you sometimes." When the farmer's mouth dropped, she clarified, "I-in a friendly way! I don't think he likes you like that."
"Thank goodness," the farmer exhaled; they weren't equipped for that kind of drama. Sophie hummed in agreement. "So…what do I do, then?"
"Weeeeelll…" Sophie lilted her voice in a singsong fashion, which the farmer knew that meant she was thinking about business. "He'll be at the eclipse party tomorrow."
The farmer knew that, but the scheming tone to Sophie's voice made them perk up all the same. "So I should flirt with him there, right?"
"Yes, but there's a certain way to go about it…"
The farmer had twenty-four hours plus some to run Sophie's plan through their head.
That didn't feel like enough.
Really, the plan was simple: flirt, but don't make it obvious. Compliment him, but don't make it obvious. Just—exist by him, but don't make it obvious. If he liked the farmer back, he should flirt back. Somehow, it felt like calculus in their head.
They dated people before, but Arata was…different. He made them feel like a stupid teenager again, giggling about their new crush. They spent way too long in the mirror, fussing over their outfit and if the sunglasses on their head were a worthwhile accessory or not. And as they climbed up the mountain trail to where the party was going to be, they felt their heart speed up with every step.
Sophie was the first to greet them. She hurried down the hill, carrying her dress so she didn't step on it.
"Right on time!" she said. "You're actually one of the first ones; Arata and Samir are here. And you brought snacks!"
"Oh, yeah," the farmer presented their heavy cooler, "figured the others would appreciate it."
"You already do so much for us…but thank you." Right to business, she added, "Do you remember what I told you?"
Of course they did—it was all they could think about. The farmer nodded, their mouth drier than a desert. Sophie clapped her hands together.
"Great! Shall we?"
Side by side, the two trekked up the remainder of the hill. Even from halfway down the farmer could hear Arata's boisterous laughter, the sound dropping a pit in their stomach.
Why were they so nervous? It wasn't like Arata was mean or condescending. The angriest they'd ever seen him was during the hurricane situation thing, and even then he seemed more mad at himself than the farmer. There was that one time they gave him tea, thinking he'd like it; even though he hated it, he was polite in saying so. He even drank some of it, just to be nice.
So…why were they nervous? Other than Sophie and Mayor Felix, Arata was probably the nicest person in all of Zephyr Town.
Forcing deep breaths, they reached the crest of the hill. There he was: chatting with Samir and telling some grand story, judging by his exaggerated hand motions. Then he turned, his gaze sweeping over the clearing and landing on the farmer. They froze, butterflies swarming their stomach. A wide grin formed on his face.
"Oh, hey!" he chirped, breaking away from Samir. He closed the distance in a few strides and tapped the farmer's arm. "Glad you could make it."
The farmer felt Sophie's stare, but when they looked to their side, she was gone. Figured as much.
So, they simply tapped Arata back and said, "Of course! Wouldn't miss it."
His smile was brighter than the sun. And the heavy weight in the farmer's hand disappeared. Blinking, they stared stupidly as Arata held up the cooler like it weighed nothing.
"I'll set this up for ya," he said, and off he went to one of the tables by his tent.
A couple lanterns along with a…humble assortment of snacks and alcohol were spread across both tables. The farmer snorted back a laugh. Well, at least they brought plenty of goodies.
Squinting, the farmer looked up at the sky. The sun was almost fully set now, the final rays of light stretching above the mountain trees. And out of the corner of their eye they could see Arata walking over, a bounce in his step.
"Heh." The farmer looked up at him. "You lookin' for your glasses?" He pointed to the top of his head. "…'Cause they're up on top of your head there."
The farmer could only gawk at him. "Yes, that's—that's the style."
Arata's grin faltered, replaced by genuine confusion. "Huh? That's the style…?" An awkward couple of seconds passed, and then—he barked out a laugh, waving a hand. "Pft, guess all that's over my head!"
His laughter slowly died off the more the farmer stared at him. Clearing his throat, he bobbed his head, a blush forming on his cheeks. The farmer wasn't sure if they should be insulted or embarrassed for him. What was the goal there? Did he genuinely think he was being helpful? Knowing him, he probably thought he was. Well, they could shrug it off; at least he was trying to be nice.
Still, the silence that followed was choking. Arata glanced at the farmer, then away, and they found themself doing the same. As if he sensed the awkwardness, Samir appeared out of thin air, standing next to Arata. He whispered something low and sharp to his friend—the farmer couldn't quite catch it, something about eggs—and Arata perked up like a taut string.
"Oh, really?" He turned to the farmer, the relief on his face obvious. "Catch ya later, yeah?"
Before the farmer could respond, he was already running to the snack table. Samir gave them some unreadable look, making them squirm, then trailed after his friend. Meanwhile, the farmer stood alone, unsure what to make of…whatever that was.
For the next thirty minutes (but really it felt like two hours), the farmer lingered around, greeting everyone that arrived and directing them to the tables. It was only when they saw Freya—who was apologizing so much for being late that the farmer swore she would cry—grab her drink did the farmer decide to treat themself.
What they brought was modest, but acceptable. Derek handled the alcohol and some add-ons, Sophie the furniture and some snacks, so the farmer was responsible for the rest. They knew Arata liked eggs, so they made sure to bring plenty of egg snacks. They also fished recently, so they brought some of their catch. And milk, of course, because Arata liked it.
…Okay, so they mostly thought of Arata when they were planning what to bring. Was that so bad? It wasn't like it was their fault, half the time he always talked about food he liked or wanted to try, and Isaac—or was it Wilbur?—said the best way to a man's heart was his stomach.
Hmm. Okay, yeah, it was a little weird. Hopefully he didn't notice. (The farmer did bring some other things, like walnut cookies and coffee, so…maybe they were safe?)
Trying their best to ignore the heat in their cheeks, the farmer grabbed a glass and worked on creating their drink. Rum, nutmeg, cinnamon, and—
"Don't tell me you're puttin' in the milk first."
The farmer turned. Arata's shoulders shook with silent laughter, one elbow resting on the table.
"Don't even," they warned, but a couple chuckles snuck through. "I put milk in last, thank you very much."
Arata chuckled. To prove their point, the farmer presented their drink and poured the milk on top. As they stirred, Arata leaned in and sniffed, the sensation chilling their knuckles.
"Smells sweet," he commented.
"Does it?" The farmer sampled the drink before gesturing it to him. "It tastes sweet. You want a sip?"
Arata hesitated, casting a dubious look at the cup. He was many brave things, but an alcohol enthusiast was not one of them. They raised an eyebrow. After a few seconds, he relented, wrapping his fingers around the cup and, to the farmer's shock, their hand. They almost dropped the drink then and there. His fingers were way rougher than they ever expected.
With one slow inhale, Arata tipped the cup—and the farmer's hand—forward. He sipped. Like a released spring he recoiled, coughing and ripping his own hand back to cover his mouth.
"That's strong!" he heaved, his cheeks a tomato red. "Whatcha put in that?"
"A lot of rum."
Following a dramatic, one-sided toast, the farmer took a long drink. To them, the drink was smooth, just a rich nutmeg with a kick. But for poor Arata…it must've been like swallowing a firecracker. They couldn't help but laugh, watching him bat his mouth with his fist, all flustered.
Once he was done coughing, he cleared his throat. His cheeks were still a vibrant, rosy red when he reached across the table.
"This is more my speed," he said, presenting a bottle of beer. "Can't get sake here, anyway."
The farmer clicked their tongue. "I could've guessed that."
Arata barked out a laugh as he popped off the cap—with only his fingers, of course. "Ha! I'm just not as strong as you, 'kay?"
"Please—you're the strongest guy I know."
Which was true, alcohol tolerance aside. The farmer didn't know anyone else that could punch logs and be fine, or someone who could run for what seemed like eight hundred hours before breaking a sweat. Let alone someone that apparently fished with his bare hands. It was equal parts terrifying and impressive.
But the compliment seemed to have missed Arata. The farmer fought the urge to roll their eyes. Honestly, he could be as dense as the wood he punched.
Staring at the bottle, Arata ran a hand through his hair, then took a swig. His eyebrows pinched together, forming cute little wrinkles on his forehead as he shrugged.
"Mm. Yours tasted better," he said, eyeing them. "Must be the barista."
Leaning against the table, the farmer swirled their drink around. "Y'know, back in the city my friends said I'd make a great bartender."
"Really?" Arata inched closer. "What was it like, the city?"
It was many, many things. They sighed. "Loud. And busy. Zephyr Town is so much more peaceful. And, y'know, growing up I thought about being a vet or something, so when I saw the flyer—"
Arata's hand shot out in front of their face. Flinching, the farmer blinked a couple of times before they registered what he caught: a frisbee. With one sharp exhale, Arata tossed it back towards where Derek, Freya and Jules were gathered. Poor Freya in particular looked absolutely mortified.
"Sorry," Arata sighed, looking back at the farmer, "you were sayin'?"
The farmer jolted out of their stupor. "Oh, uh—thanks." They shifted their weight a bit, ignoring the heat on their cheeks. "Well, anyways, when I saw the flyer, I thought that this was my chance. I couldn't afford a veterinarian education, so…I guess I thought that farming was the next best choice." They smiled, watching the clouds above them. It was only a matter of time until stars would appear. "I don't regret it at all."
They could hear Arata shuffling next to them. "Yeah, I'm glad you're here." His voice was low, and warmer than usual.
For just a little bit, the laughter of their friends across the clearing faded. It was just the two of them, standing by the table. Arata's shoulder brushed against theirs, a warm pressure that lasted a half-second too long to be an accident. He was just…adjusting himself, surely. When he pulled away, the farmer felt a chill from where he was.
"City life isn't for me," they finally agreed, sipping their drink.
Out of all the people in Zephyr Town, they were glad to be so close to Arata. From what they knew, he came from somewhere big and busy…and it felt nice to be seen, a warmth in their chest.
…Anyways.
Elbowing Arata, they smirked and asked: "What about you? What kinda place raises a tough, chivalrous guy like you?"
Like him catching the frisbee—most people didn't have freakishly quick reflexes like that. And most people didn't beat up logs until they were bleeding in the middle of hurricanes, either.
The farmer knew bits and pieces of his history, like how his dad and grandpa were esteemed martial artists, and probably a bit hard on him growing up. And didn't he once mention how he traveled for a few years before landing in Zephyr Town? So, he became tough from all that, but it didn't explain…literally anything else. Well—no, it could, but the farmer wasn't satisfied with it; they wanted to know everything about him.
But as much as he wore his heart on his sleeve, he was a bit closed off regarding his past. Which, unfortunately for him, only made the farmer more curious. 'Course, he was going to be difficult about it. Even after the farmer gave their own backstory to try to ease him into giving his, he only chuckled softly and rubbed the back of his neck.
Slowly, he started, "Ehhh…it's warm—"
"Hey, Arata!" Derek jogged over, frisbee in hand. The farmer tried to hide their frown by sipping on their drink. "Freya doesn't wanna play frisbee anymore. You down?"
"You bet!" Arata stretched out his arms, beer still in hand, and turned to the farmer. "You comin'?"
No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't completely cover their disappointment. Just when he was gonna open up, too… "Nah, I'm good. I just wanna relax tonight."
Arata gave them a long look. The farmer shrunk under his stare. Were they being rude? But then his expression relaxed, and he tapped them on the arm.
"Well, I'll make sure no frisbee hits ya," he said, and then he jogged away.
Quietly, the farmer watched him, then they brought one hand to their temples. Ugh—that wasn't very productive. The compliments rolled off him like water off a duck's back, and frustratingly enough, the farmer knew it wasn't because he was smug. No, it was because he was either insanely dense or insanely humble, and somehow both options sounded appealing.
With a long sigh, the farmer looked around. Samir was awkwardly lingering around Arata, standing next to Jules and Freya. Derek and Arata were, of course, playing with the frisbee. Arata and the farmer made eye contact for a split second, but Arata looked away almost immediately. Probably to keep playing.
Everybody else? June was by the snacks, reaching for a walnut cookie. Maple and Gabriel were off to the side, talking. Diana was…oh, also at the table. They waved at each other, then she walked off.
A small breeze jostled the farmer out of their mind. All they could smell was hints of baking and alcohol, but a tinge of that nostalgic, earthy autumn night smell lingered around them. They breathed in, breathed out. Other than the failed flirts, it really was a perfect night.
Right in the center of everything was Sophie and Lloyd, adjusting the lawn chairs. The farmer met Sophie's eyes. Even from a distance they saw her perk up, say something to Lloyd, then scurry on over. She lifted the front of her dress as she did so, her footsteps bouncier than Arata's.
"So?" she asked once she was close, chipper as ever. "How's it going?"
The farmer huffed, shaking their head. "Beats me. I barely got a chance to hit on him." They set their drink down, thinking back to their compliments. "And when I did, I don't think he picked up on any of it."
"Oh…this is trickier than I thought," Sophie fretted. Dejected, she stepped back, eyebrows pinching together. "Maybe you just have to be a little more forward," she suggested, nodding to herself. "Here, I have an idea…"
Equipped with a new plan, the farmer waited for the right moment. It was when the moon was a good way into its rise, when everyone was sauntering towards their lawn chairs. The farmer made sure to sit in the chair next to Arata's, and Samir sat on the opposite side of him.
"…and then there was a ton of splashin'—oh, hey!" Arata waved at the farmer. "I was just tellin' Sam about the time I almost caught a guardian fish." He glanced at Samir. "All thanks to their help, of course."
The farmer leaned forward. They actually hadn't heard this one before. "Go on."
Arata adjusted his seat. "See, when you're travelin' for a long time, you gotta travel light. So I'm more used to catchin' fish with my hands, like a cat." He made a feisty little meow noise, clawing the air. The farmer laughed and he smiled at them. "Well, that doesn't work for big ol' guardian fish. I had to try somethin' new.
"That was when I asked you"—he gestured to the farmer—"for advice. And whaddya know, you caught one within a couple hours! I was in awe at the size of that thing, and your skill. Talk about finesse!" He whistled, nodding his head. "So, wanna know what I learned?"
"What?" Samir asked. His expression was completely blank, but the tone of his voice was humorous.
"I learned…that I need a fishin' rod."
The farmer stared at him. "That's it?"
He made eye contact with them, his expression uncharacteristically serious. Their heart skipped a beat.
"That's it." But almost as soon as he said that, a smile cracked his lips, and he bursted out laughing. "Nah, nah! Nah, I'm just messin' with ya. Your tips about the timin' and location is what's helpin' me, actually." He karate chopped the air. "Just wait! By next week, you'll see me cookin' up a big guardian fish feast!"
"A moment, please." Samir's tone was incredulous. "What you said earlier—you mean to tell me you fished with your bare hands?"
Arata took a sip of his beer before setting it in his chair's cup holder. "When I was travelin' for a few years, yeah. Had to pack light, movin' from place to place so much."
"Hey, you were catching fish barehanded when you got here, too!" the farmer barked, smirking. "The very first thing you ever asked for from me was fish! You said they were too slippery."
Throwing his hands up in surrender, Arata chuckled. "Ya got me. But I have a rod now, so all's good."
"Yeah, a 'rod' you made from a stick and string."
"And I'm still catchin' fish with my stick!"
The trio erupted into a fit of laughter. Where Samir's laughs were gentle and the farmer's were breathy, Arata's was damn near deafening and easily drowned the both of them out. He caught the farmer's eye during it, his eyes curved into cute little crescents.
"Oh, bro," Arata said between laughs, turning to Samir, "that reminds me…"
As he prattled on, something flashed from across the clearing. The farmer glanced over. Sophie was flicking her hands, prodding them on. Right. Steeling themself, they nodded to her and looked back at Arata.
Well…here went nothing.
They rose to their feet. Arata didn't notice—he was giving Samir some fishing advice. He was leaning against the arm of his chair, leaving just enough space for the farmer to slide next to him. Arata's talking slowed to a stop. The scent of patchouli and…rose, maybe, lingered on him. It was intoxicating. Unable to look him in the eyes, the farmer let one hand wander dangerously close to his.
"I'm cold," they said, tilting their voice so it sounded a bit whiny.
Arata glanced down at them. "Oh, you are?" He adjusted his leg. "Nothin' warms me up faster than a quick sweat! Wanna take a couple laps?"
Okay. They knew he was dense, but this was…something. Wow. In the corner of their eye they could see Sophie gesturing them on, so they inhaled slowly, trying to hide their frown.
"I'm tired, too," they murmured.
They squeezed in a little closer, daring to steal a glance up at Arata. The gears in his head were turning, his lips parted ever so slightly. He looked adorable. His big brown eyes softened, and he smiled, something that warmed the farmer's chest as he lifted his arm and—
"I know! I'll get a fire goin'. Wait here."
He got up. He got up and fucking left them on the chair. Logic chased him, but boy, could he run.
Flailing, the farmer caught themself before they fell onto their side. A stupid, taunting chill gripped them. Maybe it was the way Samir was staring at them. Or Sophie, with her face in her hands.
Cheeks on fire, they straightened themself and tried to act casual. Or, well, as casual as one could be after that disaster. They watched, with pursed lips, as Arata grabbed a bunch of firewood he apparently stored by his tent, and tossed it all onto the fire pit.
"I don't mean to be blunt," Samir began, startling the farmer despite his hushed tone, "but I'm feeling pity on your behalf."
Exasperated, the farmer whipped their head to Samir. "Gee, thanks. A little help, please?"
Samir stiffened, then sighed, his gaze falling on Arata. There was a sudden softness—clear as day—in those icy eyes. "You must be more direct with him."
If he said anything else, the farmer didn't hear it; a spark caught onto the wood and flames roared to life. Arata whooped and a few others clapped. The farmer simply sat there, watching the plume of smoke laze up, up, up and away, just like their plans of snuggling.
"There!" Arata breathed, plopping down into what was the farmer's chair. "You feelin' better?"
"Yup. Snug as a bug." The words were dragged out through gritted teeth.
Idle chatter from the other side of the fire was the only thing keeping them from drowning in complete silence. What was it that Samir said? Be more direct? They glanced sideways at Arata, who was stretching out his hand towards the flame. Leaning back into the chair, they looked up at the sky. The eclipse was going to start any moment now.
Okay. They could be more direct. Just tell him how they really felt. That couldn't be so hard…right?
Who were they kidding? Of course it was going to be hard.
"Arata," they breathed.
"Hmm?"
He looked at them, tilting his head like a dog. Ugh, he was adorable. But then he reached over so, so close. The farmer's breath hitched. His face was mere inches away. Was…was he really going to—? In front of everyone? His arm stretched in front of them. Look, the farmer had the biggest crush of their life on him, sure, but this had to be too fast—
"Sorry, can I have my beer?"
Scowling, the farmer shoved the bottle in his face with a plink.