Work Text:
You were crossing the bridge to the beach, cool autumn breeze in your hair reminded you of the fact that nature is slowly dying to be reborn once again in spring, rising from the ashes like a phoenix. The sun was already going down, painting the sky in orange and pink hues. In your hand, you had a basket full of duck feathers, ink bottles and five beautiful pomegranates. The first ones you have ever grown. You were a bit anxious about their quality; you never had them before, let alone grown them. How were you supposed to know if they were any good?
Sand took the place of the stone under your shoes, each grain of sand loudly alerting anyone to your presence. You took a moment to admire the ocean waves as they crashed onto the shore before turning to the shack on the beach. You made sure that the arrangement looked perfect, or at least semi-decent, before you knocked.
For a second, there was nothing to be heard other than the waves, the seagulls, and the wind. In that short time, you wanted to just drop the basket off in front of the door and run back to your farm. Your crush on Elliott was obvious to everyone, except for him. You almost bought a bouquet at Pierre’s to go with the rest of the gifts, but you talked yourself down pretty fast. It’s his birthday; it will be ruined if he rejects you.
“Coming!” Elliott called out from the cabin. He was probably writing the last few words down before he forgot them. You picked at the bottom of your light jacket, cursing yourself for interrupting his work.
Your train of thought was interrupted by the familiar screeching of a chair on the old wood floors, then the rhythmic thuds of footsteps getting closer to the door.
Before you could fully process anything, the tall, long-haired man was standing right in front of you, with a kind smile on his face.
“Hi, Farmer!” He greeted, his emerald green eyes curiously searching your face, which you were sure was red now.
“H-hi. Sorry to bother you…” You stammered while actively avoiding eye contact. This was a horrible idea -you thought. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows slightly. The movement made some pieces of ginger hair fall in his face, and you had to resist the urge to tuck them behind his ear.
“You could never bother me.” He cut your apology short. “Want to come in? Only if you’re not busy, of course.” And to drive his point home, he moved a bit away from the door to make space for you. You actually had things to do, mainly checking your crab pots and some fishing, that's why you came to the beach so late.
“Sure.” You replied with a sheepish smile and stepped inside. Your shoulder barely brushed against his chest as you did, and that made your heart beat faster. The first thing you noticed inside was the low rumbling of the little spaceheater at the far corner of the cabin. Elliott walked back to his writing desk for something, and you stayed put in front of the closed door. “I just wanted to drop by and wish you a happy birthday.” You managed to get the words out while his back was turned to you.
“Oh?” He looked at you, surprise in his eyes, then he turned to the calendar on his wall, confirming the date. “Well, I am honoured that you would remember my birthday.” He fully turned towards you now, with a smile on his face and a mug in his hand. “Clearly, even I have forgotten it.” He chuckled.
“T-this is for you.” You raised the basket in front of you like a shield with both of your hands. “Happy Birthday!”
“Oh!” He blinked at you for a bit to make sure he wasn't dreaming, then set his mug back down and made his way to you, still standing in front of the door. “I…Y-you really shouldn't have…” He was trying and failing to find the words, which was rare for him. You felt a sense of victory that you were no longer the only stammering mess in the house.
He took the basket from you, his hands shaking like yours, your fingers touching ever so slightly, which made you blush. That and the look of pure adoration on Elliott’s face as he carefully looked at everything you put into the basket. He raised one of the pomegranates to his nose, his eyes closed in bliss as he inhaled the scent of the fruit.
“This is a beautiful gift! Thank you!”
He opened his eyes, looking at you with a soft smile and a slight blush that made your stomach turn. You would have done anything to have him look at you like that again.
“I am glad you like it.” You said, shyly looking off to the side to make sure that he cannot see your blushing face. “Will you tell me if the pomegranates are any good? It was my first time growing them.” You were playing with the bottom of your jacket again as a sense of shame washed over you.
“You didn't try one?” Elliott looked surprised, and you shook your head in response.
“I’ve never had one before, so even if I did, I wouldn't know…” You babbled on as he looked between you and the fruit.
“Well, we cannot have that!” He set the basket down on the small entryway table and made his way to the tiny kitchen, getting a knife, a bolw and a dish towel from the cabinets. “Would you do the honour of sharing this one with me?” He raised the fruit towards you. You hesitated; it was already dark outside, and you felt like you were overstaying your welcome. At the same time, your rational part of your brain yelled that he invented you in, and he was inviting you to stay longer.
“You don't have to, of course. I can take care of this one alone.” He chuckled a little at the second part. His voice was smooth, filled with kindness and care, as he washed the fruit at the kitchen sink, then put it down on his cutting board. He tucked up the sleeves of his dark blue shirt, revealing his forearms. Your heart did a backflip at the sight.
“Nonono, it's not that! I just…I don't…I don't know.” You hid your face in your hands, trying to make sense of your feelings and the million thoughts that were running through your head. “I mean, where would we even eat?” You blurted out the first thing that came to your mind as you finally looked at him.
Elliott's little cabin lacked a lot of things: a fireplace, a proper kitchen, and a dining table. It made sense for someone like him; he was spending most of his time at his writing desk, and he was probably eating all of his meals there, too.
“We make it a picnic!” He exclaimed while he cut the pomegranate open.
“It’s dark a-and cold outside…”
“We have the picnic here.”
“Here?”
“Here.” He smiled at you after he finished getting all the little red seeds into the bowl. “Would you mind taking off your shoes? I already sweep twice a day, and the place is still full of sand.” He chatted while washing his hands clean of the red stains of the fruit.
You bent down to untie your work boots while Elliott made his way to the closet, pulling out some pillows and blankets and throwing them in front of his bed, spreading them out for maximum comfort. You put your boots neatly next to the door and hung your jacket on the coatrack, then made your way across the cabin to the ‘picnic site’ and sat down in the spot nearest to the end of Elliott's bed, leaning on it for back support.
Meanwhile, Elliott went back to the kitchen, grabbed the bowl full of pomegranate seeds and the dish towel, then he quickly came to the blanket and pillow sea and sat down next to you, close enough that your shoulders almost touched. You picked at the callouses on your palms absentmindedly, trying not to think about Elliott’s strong, warm body next to yours. Your eyes stayed fixated on the floor until Elliott cleared his throat and raised the bowl towards you.
“Shouldn't you try it first? To tell me if they are good?” You scratched the back of your head.
“I trust your judgement.” He gave you a soft smile of encouragement. You exhaled loudly through your nose as a sign of defeat, then reached for the bowl. It was the first time you actually saw pomegranate seeds in real life, and it mesmerised you. For a moment, you thought that Elliott actually put rubies in the bowl as a prank. He would never do something like that, but that was the only explanation your mind came up with the moment you saw the little red jewels.
“Here goes nothing.” You mumbled and put a single seed into your mouth. Elliott gave you the dish towel to wipe off your hands.
“The downside of this fruit is the fact that it stains.” He explained, seeing your confused face. “So, what do you think?” he asked after you chewed and swallowed the fruit.
You thought about it for a moment, the flavour still dancing on your tongue, a pleasant mixture of sweet and tart. There was nothing you could have compared it to, but it was definitely not bad.
“It’s okay, I guess.” You shrugged, not really knowing what Elliott was expecting from you. “I liked that it’s crunchy.” You added after a little bit more thinking, he looked pleased with your answer.
Elliott took a handful of seeds and put them all in his mouth in one quick motion, like he had done it many times before. His eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the taste of the fruit as he crunched down on the seeds.
“Exquisite.” He exhaled after swallowing. “Thank you again for these marvelous gifts.” He smiled at you, his lips already having a slight red tint, which made you want to kiss him. Instead, you bit on the inside of your lips and took more seeds from the bowl.
You two talked about your days, your farm work and his writing, you started to feel quite comfortable as the conversation flowed. You stopped picking at your hands and clothing and managed to look Elliott in the eyes without turning beet-red. You looked around the cabin while Elliott was talking about the new book idea he had the other day. You had a perfect view of his writing desk from where you were sitting. Crumbled up papers, stacks of notebooks and a vase. With a bouquet. Your stomach dropped, it felt like someone had hit you right in the chest with a baseballbat. Damn, someone has beaten you to it. You tried to act normal, you didn’t want to ruin his birthday with your broken heart. It was now clear that he was truly oblivious to your feelings towards him.
“Are you thirsty? I don't have sparkling water, but I have a bottle of strawberry wine.” He asked, wiping his hands in the red-stained dish towel. The comment about the water made your heart twist into a knot. It hurt how much he knew about you, yet managed to ignore your feelings.
“Well, I guess a congratulation’s in order.” You said nonchalantly, nodding towards his desk.
“What?” He blinked at you. Maybe he was oblivious about everything, not just you.
“Who’s the lucky girl?” You pointed at the bouquet, his eyes followed your movements until his gaze fell on the desk.
“Oh!” He chuckled as he realised what you were talking about. He gathered the empty bowl and stained towel as he stood up. You already missed his presence next to you. “I’ve bought it, I didn't receive it.” He explained, putting the bowl into the sink, then he made his way towards the bouquet in question. Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived when you realised that he bought it for someone.
“My question still stands.” You folded your arms in front of your chest, watching him standing at the desk, with his back turned towards you. “Who’s the lucky girl?” You repeated, trying to hide the hint of hope in your voice. Please, Yoba, let it be me -you prayed.
Elliott sighed, his shoulders hunched as he shook his head.
“You know, I’ve learned a lot throughout the years. But I’ve always struggled with one lesson.” He ran his hand through his hair, still not looking at you. “Taking the opportunities that life gives you.” He half-turned towards you now, his eyes still not meeting yours.
You felt like you couldn’t breathe. What was he talking about? There was really nothing you could do but just sit there and listen to Elliott rant about something that seemingly made no sense.
“I’ve imagined a romantic walk on the beach, a picnic in the forest, reciting poetry.” He took the bouquet out of the vase, shaking the excess water from the cut stems. “Sharing a glass of wine or sparkling water.” He was walking towards you now, his eyes never leaving yours.
Your breath hitched as you realised what he was saying. Your eyes grew wide, and your mouth went dry. You barely heard the rumbling of the spaceheater from your very own heartbeat in your ears.
“Maybe it is time for me to learn that lesson and take the opportunities life gives me.” He knelt in front of you, his knees touching your shin. “I wanted to ask you sooner, but I kept waiting for the perfect opportunity.” He smiled at you sheepishly, lips still stained from the pomegranates. “You inspire me with your determination, your resilience, and the way you care so deeply for others, including me. I’m endlessly grateful that you are a part of my life and that you let me be part of yours.1 Farmer, would you do me the honour of becoming my girlfriend?” He finally asked, lifting the bouquet towards you.
You let out a breath you were holding for who knows how long. For a few seconds, you just stared at eachother, his beautiful green eyes slowly started to fill with worry for each passing moment you didn't say anything.
“You don't have to answer right now…” He said defeatedly. He started to lower the flowers, away from you, but you quickly grabbed his wrist. Elliott stared at you in confusion.
“Yes!” You exclaimed, relief washing over his face. “Yesyesyes! A million times yes!” You jumped from your position to hug him, and he welcomed your excitement.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he did the same thing to your middle-back. In that moment, there was nothing but the two of you; you felt his breathing in your ear, his heartbeat in your chest, the scent of his hair in your nose. A trace of the sweet pomegranates from his shampoo. Nothing else mattered, just two souls who finally allowed themselves to be completely vulnerable with each other. Stripping off their carefully built walls, just to allow one person to see them for who they are.
After a while, you loosened the hug, so you could look at his face. His eyes twinkled, his cheeks blushed, his mouth curled upwards in a shy smile. With his free hand, he brushed some rouge pieces of hair out of your face, then cupped your cheek. You leaned into the touch of his warm hand, closing your eyes for a second to ground yourself. This was not a dream; this was real. You looked up at him again and felt like you could have melted under his gaze; the amount of care and passion in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.
“Your lips are stained.” You whispered shakily. He tilted his head to the side, searching your face for any sign that you were uncomfortable or forcing yourself to do this. He found none.
“Yours too.” He murmured, brushing his thumb over your lower lip, the gesture making you shiver with anticipation. “May I kiss you?” He asked softly.
“Please.” You breathed out a reply and closed the distance between the two of you.
It was everything you imagined; his lips were soft, slowly moving in rhythm with yours. Your hands moved from his neck into his hair, pulling him even closer. His hand on your back pulled you in more, the one on your face caressing your cheek with tender care.
The kiss tasted like pomegranates. He tasted like pomegranates. And now you taste like pomegranates, too.
Citation:
- https://windflowerflorist.com/blogs/news/marriage-proposal-speech-ideas?srsltid=AfmBOoob65dKJXDD49yg-xWONgGb_8tTEWbht3jvP4-2ihZb6UZgi_-8#ruffruff-table-of-contents-item-3