Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
I had not breathed pure air in years.
Since I was little, I got used to the city and its smells. Some were more despicable than others to me.
The smell of rain on the ground on a Friday evening after school was comforting, carrying the familiar weight of nostalgia.
But the gasoline made me feel dizzy each time I waited for my mother to fill up the fuel tank at a trashy gas station.
I’d force myself to stop breathing as long as possible until I could not hold it anymore and had to breathe again.
After a few times, when that actually made me feel more dizzy than I was in the first place, I tucked my face inside my shirt and breathed through it until it was done and we could finally head home.
I remember particularly loving going to libraries to smell all the dusty books and feel the old yellowish pages crinkle under my fingers. Sometimes, I’d even hide between two shelves to crack the spines of brand new books. It was a sort of childish guilty pleasure that never really left.
I associated the place with a scent of old wood, pine sap and dust bunnies.
It used to remind me of my grandfather’s bookshelf.
That was nice, but the smell of cigarettes around my high school was bitter.
I hated the way all the other teenagers smoked only for the looks of it and didn’t actually care about the cigarette in the first place.
I almost pitied them to be honest, and it made that smell even worse somehow.
They were living in their own little world of pretending I would never understand even if I wanted to, something I understood very young.
That smelled awful, I hated it.
Unfortunately, there was so much more I could rant about in this place. The rude people, the constant stress floating in the air like a shared rock on everyone’s shoulders, everything being gray and dull and all of it being tied by money, power and pride.
Such inhuman values.
None of it was made for me and I wasn’t built for it either.
Right now, those years seemed so far away.
They were all blurred together yet I remembered them so vividly it felt as if I had never left them.
I was in my early twenties now, it was that age where one doesn’t know whether they’re still a child or already an adult.
Legally I was allowed to drink, go clubbing and vote but I still enjoyed coming back home and eating my mother’s cooking.
I would still ask my father to open a jar of pickles when I couldn't, and I’d still feel guilty for eating ice-cream before dinner.
Maybe those habits would never go away or maybe they would fade with time.
I couldn’t say what was best but I did know that right now, I was at that time in my life where I was lost.
I was at that time where I needed to get away from the city, from my office job, from my boring habits and the dullness of it all, and just live. For once.
Running away and getting back to my roots was the only thought on my mind.
-
The morning sunlight warmed my skin. It reflected through the window next to me, exposing dust and scratch marks. It was an old bus after all, the seats fabric had turned yellowish and it seemed like every piece of the antic vehicle was squeaking.
I had left my apartment early to catch one of the only buses going to Pelican Town.
Nobody else got in, except for the driver who seemed used to making the journey alone.
Half his face was more wrinkled than the other, probably from the sun hitting the same side everyday.
All I had with me were two bags that somehow carried everything I considered essential. Everything else I left behind had been sold or given, that way, nothing waited for me back there. No temptation to come back.
My phone battery had died, so no music for me anymore.
Putting my tangled earphones back in my bag, I realized this would be a long ride.
Tossing my hand inside my jean pocket, I got a little worn out piece of paper out.
Carefully unfolding it, I noticed the edges had turned yellow and the bottom left corner was a bit torn, probably from staying under stacks of books inside a drawer.
I was already familiar with what was written inside but started reading again anyways, it probably was the fifth or sixth time since I decided to pack and leave.
"My Dear granddaughter,
If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life…real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.
I built and nurtured my farm for years, it’s the perfect place to start your new life.
This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, my dear.
Good luck.
Love, Grandpa."
Folding the letter a bit gentler than the previous time, I put it back carefully into my pocket.
My grandfather had died a bit more than two years before.
He was old and sweet, smelled like honey and wine and made me little objects out of pine tree wood in his backyard.
He was also the one who taught me how to play guitar and sing on his way too big, old guitar that I still used to this day.
It was actually the only one I ever played on.
I barely had any memories of his farm, they were all distorted by the childish vision I had at the time where everything was colorful and big.
My parents used to drop me off at his house every summer but at some point they just stopped. I think they got too busy with work or something and grandpa started getting older. Taking care of a child had become too big of a responsibility for him.
We used to send each other letters though, like the previous one. He told me all about his new calf's birth and the latest variety of potatoes he had harvested.
After middle school, we didn’t talk much anymore and I had the feeling I didn’t really knew him as much as I wanted to.
So when he died, it felt like my whole childhood fell apart.
All those memories meant nothing, like they had never existed since he wasn’t there as a proof anymore.
I had to remember them alone now.
His last letter was dated from a few months before his passing.
It came one day in my mailbox with a message written on it specifying to only open it when “the city life would get to me”.
At the time, I didn’t really get what he meant.
But now I did.
He knew how much I’d hate it.
He knew I would make the right choice at some point and leave everything behind, just like he did years before me.
And I knew I’d do my best to make him proud.
My head resting on the window, I watched outside as the trees flew by and the seaside started to appear at the horizon.
I closed my eyes to rest. The farm had been abandoned for a while now and would probably need a lot of work so sleeping for a bit wasn’t the worst plan.
I had no idea what was waiting for me in Stardew Valley, but the glimpse of a new, fresh start my grandfather described to me in his letter was enough to make me ready for whatever I could find down there. Work did not scare me and I was more than happy to finally do something meaningful.
I fell asleep in the hope that my life was finally about to make sense again.
-
The bus driver hit the brake so hard I was woken up by my head banging against the seat in front of me.
Barely aware of where I was, I rubbed my forehead, hoping not to grow a bump later. Looking to my side, I catched a glimpse of greenery and some kind of dirt path through my half-lidded eyes. Then some dark bushes, little frail white flowers on the grass and a clear blue sky.
The scenery pieces slowly gathered to form a view as I gained my consciousness back.
It hadn't changed a bit.
Even after getting off the bus, I realized it was all exactly the same as the last time I stood there, years before.
A wave of nostalgia rose in me, in a good way though, like it does sometimes when you drive past your old school as an adult.
I enjoyed it while it lasted.
Luckily, I still knew my way around here.
The real problems began when I got in front of my new property.
The land was hidden beneath tall grass, taller than me almost. It stretched throughout the whole property, swallowing everything. It took me a minute to get through it all, swooping my arms left and right to push through it while carrying heavy bags on my back.
Then the house appeared to me, old and almost certainly unstable. Even the wood bore the mark of time passing, its deep color washed off by the sun.
I dropped my bags to the ground, unfazed by the fact I’d have to wash the dirt off later.
There it was, the promise my grandfather kept, his final gift to me. It honestly looked terrible but I didn’t care at all.
Thick moss was spreading through the cracks in the walls, an occasional sprout sticking out here and there. The roof was caving in on its own weight, barely holding on, thanks to a few columns still somehow hanging in there.
Walking up the short stairs, I almost stepped in a hole the size of my foot exactly, like the house had set traps for me.
Sighing, I looked up.
There was a little handwritten note pinned to the front door.
Hi there,
If you need anything for house renovations, come see me. I’ll help you out.
Just take the path going up the hill and walk until you get to a house near the river.
It’s the only one so you can’t miss it.
See ya,
Robin.
I remembered her, she used to help my grandfather fix broken fences after thunderstorms and even his roof once when it rained so bad the water pierced through it. She was so sweet and full of energy, like literal sunshine.
I had to admit it was relieving to know someone was willing to help me out here.
I’d definitely go see her later.
-
It was now late in the afternoon.
I had spent most of the day walking around the fields, trying to remember as much as I could of my childhood, and was now heading to Robin’s in my grandfather’s old red truck. The pedals and steering wheel got rusty over time and wouldn’t stop squeaking.
Like she said, it was easy to find, literally a house in the middle of nowhere.
After loosely parking my car in front of her garage door, I got down and banged the door a bit harsher than intended. It scared me for a second, thinking I might have broken something given how frail the truck was. Luckily, the handle was still working just fine.
I walked up to the front door and knocked, a bit nervous as I had not seen her in so long. It was curious that she even remembered me.
Through the glass part of the door, I spotted a silhouette moving around.
She answered before I could even think of what I’d say to her.
“Come in !”
Pushing the already open door and then feeling stupid for knocking, I stepped inside and there she was, behind some sort of counter.
“Hey ! I see you got my note.” She smiled, coming my way to give me a hug.
A bit surprised by such a warm welcome, I awkwardly returned the embrace, patting her back in quick motions. She almost strangled me but I managed to respond.
“I did, thank you so much.”
“No problem.” She chuckled, wiping dirt off her forehead. “When I heard you were comin’ back in town, I knew you’d need some help given the state of your grandpa’s land.”
She rested her hands on her hips, a lopsided smile on her face.
I snorted, nodding in agreement, only now realising how much work there actually was to do, and how doomed I’d be without her.
We stood there for a second, just smiling at each other. Nothing awkward, just two relaxed people.
“Well,” Robin turned around, passing a hand through her red, messy hair. “You’re gonna need some furniture and equipment, let’s start with brand new wood planks. The old ones are just begging for mercy at this point.”
Going behind her counter, she began getting them out of her shelves, throwing some tools in the air to clear some space. One of them almost hit me but I luckily dodged it in time. Good lord, what are they feeding this woman ? I knew she had energy but not this much.
"Sebastian, can you come upstairs ?"
Robin suddenly loudly called across the room.
A loud sigh came to us from downstairs, almost like an injured animal, followed by the echo of a door banging against a wall.
Not really reassuring.
"Sorry about that." She whispered with embarrassment, though evidently used to it given the way she rolled her eyes and just kept gathering planks.
Awkward. I thought to myself.
Whoever that was, he sure was stomping on those old creaking wood stairs with passion. Just enough to express an obvious childish frustration.
Robin couldn’t be bothered though, and just stood there, waiting.
A rather dark silhouette emerged from the staircase behind me, face half-hidden behind black hair, and wearing some kind of loose band t-shirt over ripped, worn out jeans. Quite tall too even though his posture was a bit rounded.
Probably Robin’s son. I remembered my grandpa mentioning him once or twice.
I lifted my hand to greet him, trying to seem more at ease than I was, which he just stared at before looking back at Robin.
"This is our new farmer, I’m helpin’ her out with some renovations. Load these in her truck will ya ?"
He didn’t even move, just got back to staring at me with a confused frown on his face. Almost one of disgust.
It quickly got really uncomfortable so I took the initiative.
"That’s okay, I’m stronger than I look." I laughed it off, a poor attempt at lying since both of them obviously noticed the lack of muscle in my arms.
Sebastian side-eyed my weirdly, almost pitifully, which made my blood boil.
That boy was skinnier than me and he dared judging my strength ? I’d be fine on my own to take care of those damn planks.
Stomping past him quickly, I went to grab some wood.
He was still staring, waiting for proof I didn’t need his help so he could crawl back down his gloomy stairs.
Chills went down my spine, how could someone so sweet like Robyn could have such an off-putting son ? He really gave me the creeps.
I somehow managed to lift a bunch of planks from the ground, legs trembling and almost losing my balance. My growing red face and the vein pumping on my forehead definitely betrayed my weakness.
Robin let out a breathy chuckle, dropping her head and shaking it.
"C’mon Seb, help her out." She asked him with more authority than the first time. One he couldn’t say no to.
Great.
I had kind of embarrassed myself but I trusted my muscles would grow in no time if I worked hard enough on the farm.
Motivation was more than necessary given all the work I had ahead of me.
When my truck was finally loaded, Sebastian and I sat for a minute on the front porch, catching our breath silently. Each lost in our own thoughts.
Not the brightest idea to move out in the middle of August.
Sweat was dripping down my forehead and my clothes stuck to my skin. To top it all, my hands were full of pretty big splinters and the late afternoon cicadas buzzing was giving me a headache.
I had to remind myself it would all be worth it and the first steps were always the worst.
“Sure you can handle it on your own ?”
Sebastian asked, raising an eyebrow cockily which could have either indicated mockery or actual kindness. No way to know for sure though.
He sat a foot away from me, one leg bent to rest his arm on it, the other spread in front of him.
I couldn’t quite catch his face, it was angled in a way that only the tip of his nose was sticking out of his hair.
“I’ll be fine thank you.”
I answered quickly, not giving him my anger as a reward for his annoying question. Plus he was Robin’s son after all and I really liked her so I’d just have to learn to tolerate him.
I quickly got up, wiping dust and wood chips off myself.
“I gotta go but thanks for helping me.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He murmured, barely looking my way.
After waving goodbye to Robin through her window, I got in my rusty truck and headed home.
I decided to wait until the morning to unload the truck. Instead, I sprinted to the bathroom, not wasting a second to jump in the shower, even though the water was still ice cold. It was perfect actually, exactly what I needed to wash off the sweat and dirt.
Once it got warmer, it also washed off my worries, most of them at least, relaxing my muscles and steadied my heartbeat.
I carefully scrubbed every inch of me, finding more and more relief as I did.
After probably more than half an hour, I stepped out of the shower, hair dripping everywhere as I tried to reach for a towel without slipping.
Drying up, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. It was small and stained, breaking my reflection in pieces. I analyzed myself for a second, dissected my looks as I shifted my head from right to left. There was already such a noticeable difference. Not only in my face, but only in the way I carried myself. Straight and confident, a look I’d never seen on me before.
My hatred for the city already seemed to tarnish, like my subconscious was accepting to leave it behind.
I sat on my new bed, fresh covers on, and enjoyed the silence building around me as soon as I stopped moving. It grew slow, steady, and covered me like a warm blanket on a winter’s night. My emptied luggages laid at the foot of the bed, all my clothes already hung in the large wooden dresser next to it.
It announced a well deserved night of good sleep. The one that erased all the doubts from the day and left you feeling fresh in the morning.
I fell asleep to the faint singing of the cicadas outside, still very much awake even after the sun had set.