Chapter Text
Year 1
Spring 5
“Why are you bothering me? I want to be alone.”
“What? What do you want? Go away.”
“Don't you have work to do?”
Shane’s constant dismissal of you stings every time, but you’re relentless in your goal to make him your friend again. Every morning that you go to spend your limited funds on coffee at Stardrop, you time it perfectly with his morning commute, calling out a warm greeting the moment you see him coming up the cobblestones. He’s still pretending not to know you, seemingly irritated beyond measure by your friendliness, but deep down, you know, if he didn’t want to see you, he could always take a different path to work.
Instead, he keeps to his same routine, as do you. It’s the only thing that drags you out of bed on time. Were it not for the mission to break down Shane’s walls, you would be spending a full day in bed, recovering from the aching in your muscles from all the seeding, hoeing, and chopping you’ve been doing.
This morning, in particular, feels harder than the others. You wouldn’t admit it out loud yet, but the work on the farm is already starting to feel mundane. The little money you have is draining fast, and you’re beginning to feel the same itch you did in your last roles… when you’re just about ready to throw in the towel and give up on yourself for the next new shiny thing. You stand outside Stardrop, waiting for it to open, and feel a crack go through your resolve.
As you see Shane coming up the path like clockwork, your mouth twists into a frown. Exhaustion allows darkness to flood your usually sunshine-y outlook, and sleep-deprived tears flood your vision as you think:
Maybe he really doesn't remember. Maybe he really wants to be left alone. Maybe the farm won’t be successful. Maybe, just maybe, there isn’t delayed gratification waiting for you at the end of this long road, but total and absolute failure, just like all the other roads you’ve tried.
As if hearing your internal monologue, Shane looks up at you, his eyebrows a little less furrowed than usual as he takes in your dejected expression.
“Hey,” you say quietly with a stiff nod.
“I'm surprised that you're still trying to make friends with me,” he says. “Haven't I been rude enough to you yet?”
Old Shane would have said that as a joke. New Shane is harder to read. You don’t have the energy to sort out which one stands before you.
“Not yet,” you reply with false encouragement, “but keep trying you're almost there.”
He opens his mouth as if he were about to say more, but then he looks down at his watch. He sighs and keeps walking. You watch him depart and shake your head vigorously as if it will send all negative thoughts flying out your ears.
You know you can help him with whatever he’s going through if only he would drop the I-don’t-know-you act and let you! Not to mention, fixing him would be a great distraction from dealing with your own shit! Frustrated, you grimace and hold out both hands to his departing back, miming the motion of grabbing his shoulders and giving him a hard shake.
He looks over his shoulder suddenly, finding your arms outstretched for a quick second before you drop them and look away with the overwhelming horror of being caught.
“You’re really weird,” he calls out, pausing his walk again, “You know that?”
“Quite aware,” you mutter, your cheeks burning. Suddenly, you’re the one making a hasty departure from the conversation, and it isn’t until you reach the beach that you realize for the first time you got him to stop and talk to you twice.
The quick getaway proved fortuitous, as you discover fishing is a much-welcomed change in your routine. You’ve just stepped out from Willy’s boat house after selling some freshly caught herrings when you spot a tall and long-haired ginger man standing on the peer.
“Elliott, right?” you ask, moving to stand beside him. He isn’t fishing, but from his warm smile, you figure he wouldn’t mind you keeping him company as you try a new spot.
“Ah, the new farmer we've all been expecting,” he says, his eyes scanning you with appreciation, “... and whose arrival has sparked many a conversation!”
“All good things?” You express the hope out loud before casting out your line.
“Of course!” he agrees, “Everyone’s excited to get to know you better.”
Not everyone, you silently amend.
“I'm kind of new to this town myself,” Elliott continues, not noticing the disagreement in your expression, “But I really feel at home. I moved here only a year before you.”
“You must tell me your secrets, then,” you plead. “I haven’t visited since my grandpa was still alive, and the solitude from being the newcomer is… solitude-ing.”
Elliott throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “Come out for a drink with me and my friends tonight,” he offers, “We call ourselves The Lonely Hearts Club. You’ll fit right in.”
That evening, you find yourself stepping inside the Stardrop Saloon for a night of fun with your new friend. As you cross the threshold, a familiar warmth envelops you in the same way it always did years ago. The lights are just as warm, and the jukebox is playing the same old songs, but there’s one stark difference between this night and the ones in your memory:
As your eyes lift and meet Shane’s, he immediately looks away from you. He’s in the same corner you once shared, right by the bar, but from the way he’s gritting his teeth, it’s clear he wants to drink alone.
“Farmer!” you hear Elliott call out. You turn your head to the opposite corner and find the writer waving emphatically from where he’s sat at a table with the doctor and another redhead.
With a grateful smile and an unsteady breath, you approach your new drinking buddies.
“So this is The Lonely Hearts Club?” you ask as you take a seat.
The doctor immediately groans. “Elliott, please tell me you didn’t.”
The redhead woman leans over to you with a warm smile. “Ell’s been trying to give this group a name for the better part of a year.”
“I’ve yet to hear you come up with something better, Leah!” Elliott argues.
“Do we need a name?” the doctor asks. He looks up at you with a nervous smile, clearly more comfortable talking with his friends than new acquaintances. “It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Harvey, the local doctor. I perform regular check-ups and medical procedures for all the residents of Pelican Town. It's rewarding work. I hope you'll find your own work equally rewarding in time.”
Now it’s Elliott’s turn to groan. “Did you start to rehearse that little speech from the moment I told you she was coming?”
“Shut up,” Harvey grunts through clenched teeth, looking down with reddened cheeks.
“Ignore them,” Leah intervenes, “It is nice to meet you! You picked a good time to move here... The spring is lovely.”
“It really is!” you agreed, “I’ve only experienced summers here before.”
“Visiting your grandpa,” Harvey guesses, much to your surprise. He reads the shock on your face and hastens to explain himself, “I, um, I treated your grandfather before he passed. He mentioned the fond memories of your summer visits often.”
“I’m sensing a story here!” Elliott raises a finger. “But first, we must secure you a beverage.”
“I’ve got the first round,” you offer, knowing your pockets will be hurting for it later. You move to the bar to put in the order, and on a whim, you add one more beer to the tab. “For the grump in the corner,” you tell Gus with a whisper.
As you collect the drinks and bring them back to the table, you fight the urge to look up and see Shane’s reaction to your gift. It had been an old tradition of yours. Whoever got to the saloon last had to buy the first round of drinks.
Would he remember?
Unwittingly, you raise your eyes to the corner, finding him looking at you with a conflicted expression. Goosebumps raise along your arms in anticipation until, at last, the corner of his mouth deepens into a very small semblance of amusement. Subtly, he raises his pint another inch in the air.
You lift yours, unable to help the smile breaking across your face to be sharing a toast with your friend once more.
To you and your future, he’d said on that final night.
To you and yours, you’d replied.
But what had happened after that? The memory was hazy, and the more you tried to chase it, the more it turned to mist. Something involving the maple tree outside, panting breaths, Shane’s strong fingers gripping your thighs…
You swallow harshly, forcing yourself to look away. No, not that! You remind yourself to quell the sudden heat in your abdomen, That was a dream. A very cruel and lovely dream that came to haunt you whenever you felt exceptionally lonely.
The fact that the dream had come to visit you while you were awake was all the sign you needed to work on subverting your solitude. You focus your attention on your new friends with hearts as lonely as yours, and you don't look back at the corner for the rest of the evening.