Through the Fog

by aiovha

Summary:

"Nights like this, I don't know... It feels like maybe I’m where I’m supposed to be after all."

Where the Reader leaves her abusive job and family to start new on her grandfathers farm she has inherited, creating a new life for herself with new friends and found family.

Chapter 1: I | New Roots

The bus rumbled and spluttered along the winding roads, the last light of day slipping beneath the horizon in a haze of purple and gold. You pressed your forehead to the cool glass, watching fields stretch into dense forests, little dots of light marking distant farmhouses. You could almost feel the town breathing, slow, sleepy, and patient.

You clutched the letter from your grandfather tighter in your lap.  "If you're reading this, then you must be in need of a change." His handwriting was shaky, but full of hope. Stardew Valley, a place that promised a new beginning, where life moved with the seasons, not the relentless pushing of capitalism

The bus shuddered to a halt.
"End of the line," the driver called back with a gravelly voice.

You stepped into the cool evening air, stretching stiff limbs as you grabbed your duffel bag. The bus roared away, taillights shrinking into the distance, leaving you in silence at the edge of town. A wooden sign pointed toward Pelican Town one way, and New Star Farm the other.

You inhaled deeply. The air smelled of rain and earth, clean and real in a way that city air never could be, your footsteps crunched on the gravel path as you followed the sign toward your new home.

────୨ৎ────

New Star Farm wasn't much to look at yet. The house sagged slightly to one side, and the fields were a chaotic sprawl of weeds, rocks, and fallen branches. But in the darkening light, it had a kind of magic to it. Like a forgotten story waiting to be told.

You dropped your bag on the front porch with a thud and fished out the keys left for you in the mailbox. The old wooden door groaned open, revealing a tiny living space furnished with little more than a cot, a cracked fireplace, and a single dusty window.

Exhaustion tugged at your bones, but your heart was racing too fast to sleep. You needed to move, to do something; anything to anchor yourself.

Maybe a walk.

Maybe just see where the night took you.

────୨ৎ────

The valley unfolded around you like a dream under the full moon. Trees whispered overhead; little fireflies blinked in the grass. You followed the winding dirt paths past fences, gardens, and tiny houses with light spilling from their windows. The town seemed to be asleep, and you felt like an intruder slipping through some ancient, sacred place.

Your boots carried you further from the farm, toward the woods that bordered the north side of town.

That’s when you saw him.

A figure, seated at the edge of a small, mist-covered pond, almost hidden by the shadows. He was dressed in black, black hoodie, black pants, even black boots. His hair, a messy shock of dark purple, caught the moonlight.

He was hunched over something, maybe a cigarette, maybe a phone, the light casted a cold glow over sharp features: high cheekbones, a pointed nose, a mouth set in a hard, thoughtful line.

You froze instinctively, not wanting to interrupt whatever private ritual this was. But the sound of your step, the crunch of gravel underfoot, betrayed you. His head snapped up, startled. Dark eyes met yours across the misty distance, wide and wary, for a long second, neither of you moved. Then he sighed, flicked something into the pond, and stood.

"You’re new," he said, voice low and even.

It wasn’t a question. You nodded, feeling suddenly foolish for wandering around in the middle of the night like some lost ghost.

"I just, moved to the farm," you said lamely, gesturing back in the direction you thought the house might be.

He smirked, just a little, not cruel, more like he knew exactly how overwhelming the valley could be.

"New Star Farm, right?" he asked. "Figures. Nobody else shows up after dark around here. Except me."

The silence stretched between you, filled only by the soft chirring of crickets and the distant croak of frogs.

Finally, he shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets and shrugged.

"I’m Sebastian," he said. "I live up near the carpenter’s house. My mom’s Robin, she runs the place."

You recognized the name from your welcome letter. The town carpenter, she was supposed to help you fix up the farm when you were ready.

"I’m," you started, giving your name, feeling your voice catch a little. You hadn’t said it aloud much lately. It felt like trying on something new and old at the same time.

Sebastian nodded, like he was filing the information away somewhere behind his dark eyes.

"You shouldn’t stay out too late," he said, after a beat. "The valley's, different at night."

"Different how?" you asked before you could stop yourself.

Another ghost of a smirk.

"You’ll see."

He turned, heading down a narrow path you hadn’t even noticed before, half-swallowed by trees.

Before he disappeared into the shadows, he glanced over his shoulder.

"See you around, farmer."

And then he was gone.

You stood there a long while after he left, heart beating louder than it should have been.
There was something in the air, not danger, exactly. Something older. Wilder.

The stars overhead burned cold and fierce.
Somewhere, a fox barked sharply.

You turned and headed back toward New Star Farm, the mist curling around your ankles like a welcome, or a warning.

────୨ৎ────

The next few days passed in a kind of half-dream.
You woke with the sun and worked yourself raw trying to beat back the wilderness that had swallowed your land. Each swing of the axe and jab of the hoe felt like carving a place for yourself out of nothing. The ache in your muscles was proof you were still alive.

Occasionally, townsfolk wandered by to introduce themselves, friendly faces like Willy, the grizzled fisherman who smelled like salt and pipe smoke, or Caroline, who insisted you stop by the general store for seeds. Everyone was polite. Kind, even.

But you couldn't stop thinking about Sebastian.

You hadn't seen him again since that night by the pond.

Some part of you wondered if he was real at all, just a piece of the valley's strange nocturnal magic.

────୨ৎ────

A week passed.

You found yourself taking longer and longer walks at night, drawn by something you couldn’t quite name. The town after dark was a different world, silvered and secret.

One night, you wandered too far into the forest. The trees grew closer together here, branches knitting into a thick canopy that let little moonlight through. You stumbled over roots and ducked under hanging moss, heart racing.

And then,
A flicker of light between the trees.

You followed it.

At the heart of a small clearing, Sebastian sat on a fallen log, knees drawn up, cigarette dangling from his fingers. A battered laptop sat open on his lap, the screen illuminating his face in pale blue.

He looked up sharply as you approached.

For a second, you thought he was going to tell you to leave.

But then he just sighed, stubbed the cigarette out against the log, and closed the laptop with a soft click.

"You’re persistent," he said, voice tinged with something like amusement.

You smiled awkwardly.

"Or just bad at directions," you said.

He huffed a soft laugh, the first real one you’d heard from him.

"You lost?" he asked.

You shrugged.

"Maybe."

Sebastian considered you for a long moment. Then, to your surprise, he shifted over on the log, making space for you.

You hesitated only a second before sitting down.

The clearing was full of soft night sounds, rustling leaves, the occasional hoot of an owl. The air smelled like damp earth and smoke.

Sebastian leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sliver of moon overhead.

"I used to hate it here," he said suddenly, voice low.

You turned your head to look at him, but he didn’t meet your eyes.

"Felt like the whole world was happening somewhere else. Somewhere bigger. Louder."

You listened, unsure if he was talking to you or just, talking.

"But sometimes," he continued, "nights like this, I don't know. It feels like maybe I’m where I’m supposed to be after all."

You swallowed against the lump rising in your throat.

"I think I know what you mean," you said softly.

Sebastian glanced at you then, really looked, and for a moment, the guarded distance in his gaze dropped away.

"You’re braver than most," he said. "Moving out here. Alone."

You smiled faintly.

"Maybe just desperate," you admitted.

He gave a quiet laugh, low and genuine.

"Aren’t we all?"

The two of you sat there, side by side, in the middle of the dark and wild woods, two strangers clinging to the same fragile hope: that here, maybe, you could be someone new.

Someone better.

Chapter 2: II | Fresh Canvas

Summary:

Meeting Leah

The sun spilled through the cracked window of the farmhouse, golden and insistent. You blinked awake slowly, the creak of old wood and the rustle of birds outside easing you into consciousness. Another week was beginning. You stretched, wincing slightly at the soreness in your arms and shoulders. Farming was no joke. Every morning felt like you were rebuilding your body from scratch. You dressed quickly, pulling on boots still dusted with yesterday’s dirt, and headed outside. The morning air was crisp, promising warmth later but now clinging stubbornly to the last breath of spring.

The fields lay before you, half-wild, half-tamed, a canvas you'd barely begun to paint. You spent the morning pulling weeds, planting seeds you bought at Pierre’s, and repairing a battered old fence on the east side of the house. The hours slipped past unnoticed, your mind drifting. At midday, your stomach reminded you it was time for a break. You wiped your hands on your jeans and grabbed your bag. Maybe you'd explore the southern part of town , you hadn't had much chance yet, and Willy mentioned there was a path leading to the riverbank, thick with wildflowers.

It sounded peaceful.

You followed the dirt paths south, past Marnie's ranch, where cows lowed lazily in the sun. Past the edge of the woods, the trees opening into a gentle clearing crisscrossed by streams and shaded by old willows, you almost didn’t notice her at first. She was sitting cross-legged by the river, sketchpad balanced in her lap, a pencil moving in quick, sure strokes across the page. A halo of auburn hair caught the light, framing a face full of quiet focus.

You hesitated, not wanting to disturb her, but your boot caught a loose stone and sent it skittering down the slope. The woman looked up, startled , then smiled warmly when she saw you. 

"Hey there," she said, setting the pencil aside. "You’re the new farmer, right?"

You nodded, approaching slowly.

"I’m Leah," she said, standing and brushing grass from her jeans. "I live just over there," she gestured to a cozy-looking cottage nestled among the trees, the roof draped in ivy.

You introduced yourself, feeling instantly more at ease. Leah had the kind of presence that made the world feel a little softer, a little easier to breathe in.

"Nice to finally meet you," she said. "Everyone's been talking about you. New blood in Pelican Town is, rare."

You chuckled.

"Yeah, I’m starting to get that impression."

She tilted her head, studying you with a curious, thoughtful expression.

"So what brings you to the valley?" she asked.

You hesitated , not because you didn't want to answer, but because the truth was messy, sprawling. How could you sum up the slow suffocation of the city, the loneliness that had wrapped itself around your chest like ivy?

"Needed a change," you said simply.

Leah's smile softened into something more understanding, almost bittersweet.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Me too."

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, strolling along the riverbank. Leah showed you where the best wild spring onions grew, where the frogs liked to hide, where the old footbridge had half-collapsed but still stood stubbornly against the current.

"I used to live in the city," she said after a while, her voice low. "Had a little apartment crammed between two office towers. You could hear the traffic even at three a.m."

You nodded , you knew that sound well. A constant, restless hum, impossible to escape.

"I was trying to make it as an artist," Leah continued. "Selling pieces here and there. Gallery shows that barely paid the rent. Working part-time gigs to keep the lights on."

There was a tightness in her voice now, a shadow that hadn't been there before.

"And, I was with someone," she said, frowning slightly. "At first, they were supportive. Said they loved my work. Believed in me."

She kicked a loose stone into the water, watching the ripples spread.

"But when things got hard , when I didn’t want to give up on my art even though it wasn’t 'practical' , they changed. Started telling me I was selfish. That I was wasting my life. That I should get a 'real job' and stop dreaming."

You felt a flare of anger on her behalf, even though you barely knew her.

"That's awful," you said, voice rougher than you intended.

Leah smiled faintly, but there was no joy in it.

"I stayed too long," she admitted. "Longer than I should have. I kept thinking, if I just worked harder, if I just proved myself, maybe they'd believe in me again."

She looked up at you then, her green eyes clear and fierce.

"But it doesn't work like that. You can't make someone respect your dreams if they don't want to."

The words hit harder than you expected. You looked away, pretending to study the river.

"I get it," you said finally. "Maybe not exactly. But, enough."

Leah gave you a small, genuine smile.

"I finally realized," she said. "I wasn’t living my life anymore. I was living theirs. So, I packed up my sketchbooks, my sculptures, whatever would fit in the car, and I drove until the city disappeared behind me." She spread her arms wide, taking in the valley. "And I ended up here."

The two of you stood there a long moment, the river rushing past, the trees whispering overhead. A fresh start, a life built on your own terms. You understood, more deeply than you could say.

After a while, Leah gestured toward her cottage.

"Want to see my studio?" she asked, a little shyly. "It's nothing fancy, but, it's mine."

You followed her along a winding path to the cozy little home tucked between the trees.
Inside, the space was warm and lived-in: canvases leaned against the walls, half-finished sculptures sat on every available surface, the air rich with the scent of wood shavings and paint.

Leah moved around the room easily, showing you her latest projects , a series of delicate carvings shaped like wild animals, a massive canvas splashed with deep, vivid blues.

"This place," she said, running her fingers lightly over a rough sketch pinned to the wall, "it's the first place I’ve ever really belonged ."

You smiled.

"It shows," you said honestly.

Leah glanced at you, a little surprised, then ducked her head, pleased but bashful.

"Thanks," she said softly. "That, means more than you know."

────୨ৎ────

You ended up staying for hours, talking about everything and nothing , your plans for the farm, the best places to find mushrooms after rain, the weird things you missed about the city, by the time you finally stood to leave, the sun was dipping low behind the trees, painting everything in rich, golden light.

Leah walked you to the door, hesitating a moment.

"I’m glad you came to the valley," she said.

You smiled.

"Me too."

She grinned, bright and genuine.

"Come by anytime," she said. "It gets lonely out here sometimes. It's nice to have, someone who gets it."

You promised you would.

And as you made your way back toward Starfall Farm, the sky deepening into violet and stars beginning to wink to life overhead, you felt it again , that flicker of something you hadn’t dared believe in for a long time.

Hope.

You were building something new here.

Friendships.
Roots.
A life you could truly call your own.

And maybe - just maybe - you weren't so alone after all.

 

Chapter 3: III | Currents Beneath Still Water

Notes:

Funfact: I already have all the chapters written. Im just spacing out the releases!

The next few days slipped by in a gentle, sun-warmed haze.

The valley bloomed under spring’s careful touch: blossoms unfurled along the riverbanks, and the trees were heavy with the sweet green promise of summer. You fell into the quiet rhythm of life here , waking early, tending to your patchwork farm, trading friendly greetings with passing villagers.It was peaceful, healing, even.

Still, you weren’t expecting the knock on your door late Saturday afternoon. You wiped your hands on your jeans and opened it to find Leah, hair pinned messily atop her head, cheeks flushed from the walk.

"Hey!" she said, smiling. "Hope I'm not interrupting your, farming wizardry or anything."

You laughed.

"Just finished planting a bunch of parsnips. Pretty sure half of them are already doomed."

Leah grinned.

"You're a natural, trust me. Anyway, I was wondering," she shifted her weight a little, suddenly shy. "A few of us are meeting down by the river tonight. Nothing fancy. Just a little bonfire, some food, music, Figured you might want to come?"

You blinked, surprised and touched.

"I'd love to," you said quickly, before nerves could make you second-guess.

Leah's face lit up.

"Awesome. Starts at sunset. Bring whatever you want to share , snacks, stories, whatever."

She gave a little wave and disappeared down the path, leaving you with a fluttery feeling in your chest. Maybe you were finally becoming part of something here.

By the time you arrived at the river clearing, the sun was melting into the trees, painting the sky in wild streaks of pink and orange. A bonfire crackled at the center of the clearing, throwing sparks up into the deepening twilight. Someone had strung lanterns between the trees, casting warm pools of light over the grass. A rough picnic blanket was spread out, covered in mismatched dishes , fresh bread, jars of pickles, cold lemonade, someone’s attempt at berry cobbler.

You spotted Leah almost immediately, waving you over.

"Hey, you made it!" she said, handing you a cup of lemonade.

You smiled, scanning the gathering.

Maru and Demetrius were there, setting up some kind of odd, homemade speaker system. Penny sat cross-legged by the fire, reading quietly but smiling whenever someone spoke to her. Sam and Abigail were arguing playfully over who had brought the better snack (Sam's suspiciously greasy bag of chips or Abigail’s giant chocolate bar).

And there, leaning against a low branch with his hands in his hoodie pockets, was Sebastian.

Your chest gave an unexpected little jolt.

He looked comfortable, in his own aloof way, watching the gathering with a detached but not unfriendly expression.

For a moment, he caught your gaze , just a flicker , and gave the smallest nod of recognition.

Warmth curled in your stomach.

The night unfolded slowly, like honey dripping from a spoon.

Someone got a guitar out , you thought it was Sam’s , and clumsy, cheerful songs filled the air. The fire crackled and popped, sending the occasional ember floating skyward like tiny fireflies.

You sat with Leah for a while, sharing stories about your first disastrous farming attempts (her: accidentally flooding her entire front yard trying to install a rain barrel; you: falling face-first into a giant patch of mud).

At some point, Abigail plopped down nearby, a chocolate bar in one hand, a bottle of soda in the other.

"So," she said, eyeing you with a bright, sharp grin. "You're the new farmer everyone's been buzzing about."

You introduced yourself again, and she nodded.

"I'm Abigail. I spend most of my time either beating Sam at video games or climbing trees. Sometimes both."

You laughed politely.

Abigail's gaze flickered past you , toward where Sebastian sat, half-shadowed near the fire.

"You met Sebby yet?" she asked, casually, but her tone had a definite edge to it.

You nodded.

"Yeah, we ran into each other by the pond, my first night."

Abigail's smile tightened.

"He doesn't usually talk to strangers," she said, almost like a warning.

You blinked, thrown by the sudden shift in mood.

Luckily, Leah leaned in, bumping your shoulder gently.

"Ignore her," she whispered. "Abby gets territorial sometimes."

You bit back a grin.

The night rolled on.

Gradually, the little groups shifted and melted into new arrangements. You found yourself sitting near Sebastian, purely by accident , or maybe not entirely.

He glanced at you, expression unreadable.

"Surprised you came," he said, voice low enough that only you could hear.

You shrugged, feeling a little bold.

"Maybe I'm full of surprises."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth , there and gone again.

"Maybe," he said.

The conversation flowed easily after that. You talked about the stars, about the weird ancient statues tucked into the woods, about favorite bands and terrible horror movies.

 Sebastian was sharp, a little cynical, but never cruel. He listened more than he spoke, which only made his rare smiles feel like tiny victories.

At one point, Leah plopped down beside you with a mason jar full of some questionable-looking punch.

"To new beginnings," she said, raising the jar.

You clinked cups and drank.

Across the fire, you caught Abigail watching you, her expression difficult to read.

Not angry, exactly.

But wary. Possessive.

You looked away quickly.

Later, after the fire had burned down to glowing embers and most of the villagers had wandered off toward home, you found yourself walking the path back toward the farm alone.

Or so you thought.

Footsteps crunched softly behind you.

You turned to see Sebastian, hands jammed deep into his hoodie pockets.

"You're heading north, right?" he asked, voice casual.

You nodded.

He jerked his chin in the direction of the road.

"Come on. It's easier if you cut through the woods this way. Shorter, too."

You hesitated , just a second , then fell into step beside him.

The woods were dark, but not frightening. Moonlight filtered through the branches, silvering everything. Your boots brushed through damp grass and fallen leaves.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.

It was companionable.

Like walking beside someone who understood that words weren’t always necessary.

When you reached the crossroads, Sebastian paused.

"This is you," he said, nodding toward the path leading up to your farm.

You turned to face him.

"Thanks," you said, meaning it.

He shrugged, but there was a softness around his eyes you hadn't seen before.

"Night," he said.

And then he was gone, melting into the trees.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4: IV | Pieces Falling Into Place

The morning air was cool and fresh, carrying the scent of tilled earth and blooming wildflowers.

You kicked at a loose pebble as you made your way south toward Leah’s cottage, heart feeling strangely light. It had been a few weeks since you moved to Pelican Town, and while life here wasn't easy, it felt, good. Like breathing without a weight on your chest. Leah waved from her porch, a hammer in one hand, a coil of twine in the other.

"You made it!" she called.

You jogged up the little slope to her house.

"Wouldn’t miss it," you said.

The Spring Festival , or "Egg Festival," as the locals called it , was just days away. Mayor Lewis had asked Leah to contribute some "seasonal sculptures" for the town square decorations, and she’d roped you into helping her install them. You didn’t mind. Honestly, you were grateful for something to do that didn’t involve hauling sacks of fertilizer. Leah led you around the side of her cottage where the sculptures stood in a loose semicircle, half-finished and gleaming under the morning sun.

They were beautiful: bright, flowing forms that captured the feeling of spring without being too literal. Twisting vines, leaping rabbits, stylized eggs with intricate carvings. You couldn’t help but smile.

"These are amazing, Leah."

She flushed lightly, pleased.

"Thanks. I, wasn’t sure if they were too weird. Lewis asked for something 'festive' and 'family-friendly,' whatever that means."

You laughed.

"They’re perfect."

You spent the next few hours helping Leah load the sculptures onto a borrowed wagon, tying them down carefully with thick ropes. The larger ones took both of you working together to lift, grunting and laughing when one almost toppled into the mud. By midday, you were sweaty, dusty, and happier than you’d been in a long time. You sat side-by-side under a tree, sharing a bottle of lemonade Leah had packed. For a while, you just sat in the easy silence, watching the clouds drift by. Then, Leah spoke, voice gentle.

"You’re good at this," she said. "Helping. Being here."

You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious.

"I’m just glad to be useful."

Leah glanced at you, something knowing in her expression.

"You know," she said, almost casually, "you never really talk about where you came from."

The words hit you harder than expected.

You looked down at the grass, plucking a blade between your fingers.

"It’s, not a very fun story," you said quietly.

Leah waited, patient and open.

The words spilled out before you could stop them.

"My family," you began, voice rough. "They weren’t exactly the supportive type. Growing up, it was like, no matter what I did, it was never enough. If I got an A, why wasn't it an A+? If I did something for myself, it was selfish. If I made a mistake, it was, unforgivable." You swallowed hard.

"When I decided to move here, they told me I was throwing my life away. Said I'd end up alone. A failure. That I'd regret it."

You twisted the grass blade in your fingers until it snapped.

"It’s stupid, but, even now, sometimes I still hear their voices in my head. Telling me I'm not good enough. That I’m wasting my time trying to build a life here."

Leah shifted, moving closer.

She didn’t say anything right away , didn’t offer false reassurances or platitudes.

She just listened.

Really listened.

Finally, she reached out and squeezed your hand.

"That's not stupid," she said fiercely. "That's real. And it’s brave as hell that you’re here anyway. Building something for yourself."

You blinked hard against sudden tears.

"They made you believe you were small," Leah said. "But they were wrong. You’re not small. You’re strong."

You tried to laugh, but it came out more like a hiccup.

Leah smiled and bumped her shoulder against yours.

"And hey," she added, lighter, "you've got an entire valley full of weirdos ready to prove them wrong."

You laughed for real that time.

The ache in your chest didn’t vanish, but it eased a little , like sunlight breaking through a heavy fog.

Maybe you were stronger than you thought.

Maybe you weren’t alone.

────୨ৎ────

Later that afternoon, you helped Leah and a few others set up the sculptures in town square. There was a festive buzz in the air: bunting strung from lampposts, colorful banners fluttering from the shops. As you adjusted one of Leah’s rabbit sculptures near the well, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Hey, farmer!"

You turned to see Sam approaching, his usual sunny grin firmly in place.

"You’re helping with the festival stuff?" he asked.

You nodded.

"Leah roped me in."

Sam laughed.

"Careful. Next thing you know, she’ll have you posing for some avant-garde art piece involving mud and papier-mâché."

You laughed along, feeling more at ease than you expected.

Behind Sam, Sebastian and Abigail sauntered up, the three clearly having arrived together.

Sebastian gave you a nod , a silent, almost shy greeting you were beginning to recognize as his version of friendliness.

Abigail, however, sized you up with an assessing glance.

"Helping out, huh?" she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

"Guess so," you replied, keeping your tone neutral.

Abigail crossed her arms, tapping a finger against her bicep thoughtfully.

"Better watch out," she said, half-joking, half-not. "Pretty soon you’ll be one of them."

You raised an eyebrow.

"One of,?"

Sam laughed.

"A townie," he said dramatically. "You’ll start caring about things like pie-baking contests and seasonal squash."

"Terrifying," you deadpanned, and everyone chuckled , even Sebastian, a short huff of amusement escaping him.

The group fell into an easy banter after that, discussing the upcoming festival and who was going to win the famous Egg Hunt ("It’s gonna be me this year," Abigail said, puffing out her chest; Sam loudly disagreed).

Still, you caught the small things , the way Abigail's teasing always had a sharper edge when directed at you, the way she subtly maneuvered herself between you and Sebastian whenever possible.

It wasn’t overt.

But it was there.

You tucked the observation away for later, not letting it ruffle you.

You were here to build a life for yourself , not to get caught up in petty rivalries.

Still, part of you couldn't help but wonder why Abigail seemed so wary.

Was it just Sebastian?

Or was it something else entirely?

As the sun dipped low and the square emptied out, you lingered a while, watching the last few villagers trail home.

Leah clapped you on the shoulder as she passed by.

"Thanks again for today," she said warmly. "You’re a lifesaver."

You smiled, meaning it.

"Anytime."

And you meant that, too.

Because for the first time in a long, long while, you weren’t just surviving.

You were growing.

Rooting yourself in a place , among people , who saw you not as a burden, but as something worth knowing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5: V | Underneath the Laughter

The town square looked almost unrecognizable.

Colorful banners flapped overhead in the crisp spring breeze. Tables groaned under piles of fresh-baked pies, gleaming preserves, and gleefully bright centerpieces of daffodils and dandelions. Everywhere you looked, villagers laughed and called to one another, dressed in their brightest festival clothes.

You paused just inside the square, taking it all in.

The Egg Festival was one of the biggest events of the year, you’d heard , and judging by the sea of happy faces, it lived up to the hype.

Someone waved from the edge of the crowd.

"Morning!" Harvey called, adjusting his glasses. The town doctor wore a pressed button-up shirt and looked slightly out of place among the more casually dressed villagers.

You made your way over.

"Hi, Harvey," you said, smiling.

"Enjoying the festival so far?" he asked, polite and kind as ever.

You nodded, shifting your basket.

"It’s a little overwhelming, honestly. But it’s nice to see everyone so happy."

Harvey chuckled.

"I know what you mean. I'm not much for big crowds myself. But, it’s good for the town’s morale."

He hesitated, then added, "And it's good to see you settling in."

Warmth bloomed in your chest.

"Thanks. It’s starting to feel like home."

Harvey smiled, and you said your goodbyes as another villager , Vincent, tugging on Harvey’s sleeve , demanded attention.

Further into the square, near a table piled high with deviled eggs and pastel pastries, you nearly bumped into Haley.

She wrinkled her nose slightly, stepping back.

"Oh," she said, blinking. "It’s, you."

You fought the urge to laugh.

"Happy Egg Festival," you said instead.

Haley tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her expression shifting into something practiced and sweet.

"You too. I guess you're, like, still trying to do the whole farmer thing?"

You raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Still trying."

Haley gave a breezy, dismissive shrug.

"Well, good luck. It’s way harder than it looks. I tried growing tulips once and it was a disaster."

Before you could reply, she spotted Alex across the way and beamed, flouncing off without a backward glance.

You shook your head, amused more than anything.

Haley was, Haley.

It was easier not to take it personally.

 

As you wove through the festival, you ran into Emily near the craft booths.

She was arranging tie-dyed eggs in a spiraling pattern, her bright turquoise hair practically glowing in the sunlight.

"Hey, you!" Emily called, waving enthusiastically.

You smiled and walked over.

"Your booth looks amazing."

Emily beamed.

"Thanks! I wanted to bring a little energy to the festival, you know? Some people think spring is all about pastels and soft stuff, but I say , why not go psychedelic?"

You laughed.

"I like it."

Emily's eyes twinkled.

"You’ve got good vibes. I can tell. Make sure you get a flower crown before the Egg Hunt , they’re handwoven with positive energy."

You promised you would, and moved on, feeling lighter somehow after talking to her.

────୨ৎ────

You found yourself drifting toward the quieter edge of the festival, near the lake.

The noise of the crowd faded into a soft hum.

There, perched on a sun-warmed rock, sat Sebastian.

He didn’t look up immediately , just tossed a small pebble into the water, watching the ripples spread.

You hesitated for half a second, then walked over.

Mindful of his usual need for space, you sat down a few feet away on the grass.

"Escaping the chaos?" you asked lightly.

Sebastian smirked without turning.

"Something like that."

You hugged your knees to your chest, letting the silence stretch.

The lake shimmered under the afternoon sun, dragonflies skimming its surface.

After a long moment, Sebastian spoke, voice low.

"You ever feel like, no matter where you go, you don't really fit?"

You looked at him, surprised by the raw honesty.

"Yeah," you said quietly. "All the time."

Sebastian skipped another pebble across the water.

"Everyone here’s so, normal," he said, a trace of bitterness threading his words. "Maru’s basically a genius. Dad’s a big-shot scientist. Mom’s obsessed with appearances. And me?"

He shrugged.

"I’m just the guy hiding in his room, pretending coding freelance jobs are gonna lead to some grand future."

You wanted to tell him he was wrong , that he wasn't just anything.

But you sensed it wasn’t the right moment for pep talks.

So you just said:

"I think, normal is overrated."

Sebastian huffed a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Maybe."

He glanced over at you, something soft and guarded in his eyes.

"You seem different," he said after a beat. "Not in a bad way."

Warmth prickled behind your ribs.

"Guess it takes one outsider to recognize another," you said, smiling faintly.

Sebastian looked back at the water.

"Yeah," he said. "Guess so."

And somehow, sitting there beside him in the dappled sunlight, you felt a little less alone.

The loud clang of a bell rang out across the square.

"Egg Hunt's about to start!" Mayor Lewis shouted.

Sebastian sighed and stood, brushing off his jeans.

"Time to go lose spectacularly to a bunch of ten-year-olds."

You laughed and followed him back toward the crowd.

────୨ৎ────

The Egg Hunt was chaos.

Colorful eggs were hidden everywhere , tucked into flower beds, perched behind barrels, even dangling from tree branches.

Children shrieked and raced around, baskets swinging wildly. Adults weren't much more dignified , you spotted Pierre practically diving behind a crate at one point.

You ran, heart pounding, spotting an egg peeking out from under the saloon’s porch.

You snatched it up and darted toward another near the general store.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a flash of purple hair , Abigail, moving fast, a fierce grin on her face.

You grinned and pushed harder.

The hunt ended far too soon, the final bell clanging and everyone gathering breathlessly in the square.

Mayor Lewis cleared his throat.

"And the winner of this year’s Egg Hunt is,"

He paused dramatically.

"Abigail!"

Cheers and scattered claps erupted.

Abigail pumped her fist in the air triumphantly.

As you approached to return your basket, she caught your eye, smirking.

"Better luck next year, newbie," she said, voice light but laced with a competitive bite.

You forced a laugh.

"I’ll start training immediately."

Abigail tossed her hair and turned to accept her prize , a giant chocolate bunny nearly half her size.

You shook your head, amused despite yourself.

She wasn’t cruel, exactly.

Just, fiercely protective of her place here.

You understood the feeling.

────୨ৎ────

The festival wound down as the sun dipped low behind the hills, bathing everything in golden light.

Villagers lingered, chatting and laughing, reluctant to let the day end.

You stood by the fountain, hands stuffed into your pockets, watching as Leah helped Mayor Lewis dismantle some of the decorations.

"You survived," a voice said beside you.

You turned to see Sebastian, smirking faintly.

"Barely," you said. "Egg-hunting is way more cutthroat than I expected."

Sebastian snorted.

"Yeah. Welcome to Pelican Town."

You smiled and tilted your head back to look at the sky, the first stars beginning to prick through the dusky blue.

Maybe you hadn’t won the Egg Hunt.

Maybe you still didn’t fully fit into this patchwork town.

But for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel like you had to hide.

You belonged , not because you were perfect, but because you were trying.

And that was enough.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6: VI | Summer Strings

The first day of summer hit Pelican Town like a wave.

The air buzzed with heat, thick with the scent of blooming wildflowers and ripening crops. Somewhere off in the distance, cicadas sang in the tall grass, a lazy chorus that made you want to stretch out under the trees and sleep.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, leaning against the gate of your farm, and surveyed the world turning greener by the minute.

New season, new beginnings.

It was still early morning when you heard footsteps crunching up the dirt path , quick, eager.

You turned to see Sam jogging toward you, guitar slung over his back.

"Hey!" he called, skidding to a stop with a grin. "You busy later?"

You shook your head, curious.

"Not really. Why?"

Sam bounced on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Me, Seb, and Abigail are practicing today , you know, our band? The Solarians? I thought, I mean, if you’re free, you could come listen? Give some feedback?"

You blinked, surprised by the invitation.

"Yeah," you said, smiling. "I'd love to."

Sam fist-pumped the air.

"Awesome! We're meeting in my garage around noon. Just come by whenever!"

He waved and bounded off before you could say anything else, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

You chuckled to yourself.

Whatever today brought, it was already shaping up to be interesting.

────୨ৎ────

Sam’s house was easy to find , a cozy two-story home near the river, its backyard sprawling into sun-dappled fields.

You made your way around to the side, where the garage door stood wide open.

Inside, the makeshift "band room" was a chaotic mess of amps, cords, battered instruments, and posters peeling from the walls. The faint smell of motor oil and sweat hung in the air, but it wasn’t unpleasant , more like, lived-in.

Sam was tuning his guitar, tongue sticking out in concentration.

Sebastian lounged behind an ancient keyboard, absently hitting a few keys and adjusting the settings.

And Abigail sat behind a drum kit, twirling her sticks with practiced ease.

When you stepped into the shade of the garage, Sam looked up and beamed.

"Hey! You made it!"

Sebastian glanced up too, offering a small nod , but his mouth twitched into a faint smile that warmed your chest.

Abigail, on the other hand, barely spared you a glance.

She focused intently on tightening one of her drumheads, her shoulders stiff.

You took a seat on an overturned crate, trying not to read too much into it.

Sam slung his guitar into place and clapped his hands.

"Alright, ready to rock?"

Sebastian shrugged.

"As ready as we ever are."

Abigail twirled a stick and smirked.

"Let’s blow their mind."

You settled in, excitement buzzing in your veins.

The first chords rang out loud and clumsy , Sam’s fingers stumbling a little , but he caught the rhythm quickly, grinning wide.

Their music was rough, energetic, full of raw promise.

Sam's voice wasn’t perfect, but it was passionate, soaring over the thrum of the guitar. Sebastian’s keyboard filled out the sound, moody and rich, while Abigail hammered the drums with fierce precision.

Despite yourself, you found your foot tapping along.

They weren’t professionals , not yet.

But they had heart.

And that counted for a lot.

After two songs, they broke off, laughing and shaking out their arms.

Sam turned to you eagerly.

"Well? Be honest! What’d you think?"

You grinned.

"You guys sound awesome. Seriously. There’s so much energy."

Sam practically glowed under the praise.

Sebastian leaned back in his seat, arms folded, watching you with a quieter sort of satisfaction.

Abigail wiped sweat from her brow, finally giving you a more direct look.

"You don’t have to sugarcoat it," she said, half-smirking. "We know we’re rough."

You shrugged.

"I mean, yeah, you're not gonna headline Zuzu City tomorrow. But you've got something real. It's, fun. And that's way better than perfect."

Sam whooped and slapped Sebastian on the back.

"Told you it’s about the feeling, man!"

Sebastian grunted, but his lips twitched again into something almost resembling a smile.

Only Abigail didn’t quite seem to share the moment.

She tapped her drumsticks against her thigh, gaze flicking between you and Sebastian with something sharp and assessing in her eyes.

After a while, Sam plopped down next to you, stretching out like a lazy cat.

"So," he said, "what's it like running that farm all by yourself?"

You laughed.

"Tiring. Rewarding. Dirty."

Sebastian snorted.

"Sounds about right."

You glanced over at him, and for the first time, caught the faintest gleam of mischief in his eyes.

Was that, teasing?

Your heart lifted a little.

Abigail, meanwhile, had gone quiet again, drumming lightly on her knee.

"So brave," she said airily. "Leaving everything behind to come here."

There was an edge to her voice , not overt, but enough to notice.

You shrugged, keeping your tone light.

"Sometimes you have to make a mess of your life before you figure out how to live it."

Sebastian gave a soft, thoughtful sound , almost approval.

Abigail’s drumming grew louder for a second before she abruptly stood.

"Gotta grab some water," she muttered, stalking off toward the house.

An awkward silence settled in her wake.

Sam, bless him, was oblivious.

He launched into a story about almost electrocuting himself while rewiring an amp, and the mood lightened again.

────୨ৎ────

The afternoon wore on lazily.

Sam showed you a few chord progressions on his guitar, grinning when you fumbled the notes.

Sebastian tinkered with the keyboard settings, occasionally glancing your way to offer dry commentary.

You found yourself relaxing, even laughing , something that still felt new and fragile sometimes.

When Abigail returned, she stayed mostly quiet, joining in only when necessary.

But every so often, you caught her watching you.

Not with friendliness.

With something closer to challenge.

You weren’t sure whether it made you wary, or energized.

Either way, you weren’t planning on backing down.

────୨ৎ────

By the time the sun dipped low and the first fireflies blinked into existence, you were gathering your things, tired but content.

Sam clapped you on the shoulder.

"Thanks for hanging out. We’re gonna make you our official groupie."

You laughed.

"I'll put it on my resume."

Sebastian, standing a little apart, gave you a long, unreadable look.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Next time, you should bring your own instrument."

You blinked.

"I don’t really, play anything."

He shrugged.

"Doesn’t matter. It’s more fun when you’re part of it."

His words were casual, but the invitation felt heavier somehow, weighted with something unspoken.

You smiled, feeling something loosen deep inside your chest.

"Maybe I will."

Abigail, hovering by her drums, said nothing.

But her hands clenched just a little tighter around her drumsticks.

And the spark of rivalry that had been flickering between you grew just a little brighter.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7: VII | Sunflower's Growth

The morning sun rose soft and golden over Pelican Town, casting long, sleepy shadows across the farm.

You stood at the edge of the newly built chicken coop, hands on your hips, a sense of pride swelling in your chest. It was a small, sturdy little thing , nothing fancy , but it was yours. Every nail, every board, every stroke of paint had been done by your own two hands.

Now, all it needed was some life.

Chickens.

You could already imagine them pecking around the yard, clucking happily as they explored the fields. It was a picture-perfect image , simple, wholesome.

Grinning to yourself, you grabbed your backpack and set off down the dusty path toward Marnie's Ranch.

────୨ৎ────

The Ranch sat on the southern edge of town, nestled between wild meadows and sun-dappled forests. A gentle breeze rustled through the tall grass as you approached, carrying the faint smell of hay and warm earth.

You pushed open the gate, the familiar creak welcoming you in.

Inside, the place was quiet , almost too quiet.

You stepped up to the counter, looking around.

"Marnie?" you called.

No answer.

Instead, a figure slouched against the back wall, arms crossed, baseball cap pulled low over his face.

Shane.

He looked up at the sound of your voice, one eyebrow lifting in what could only be described as reluctant acknowledgement.

You blinked.

"Oh, hi," you said, awkward but cheerful. "I was hoping to buy some chickens?"

Shane sighed through his nose like you’d just asked him to run a marathon.

"Marnie's not here," he muttered, pushing off the wall. "I'm, covering."

He sounded about as thrilled as a cat in a bathtub.

Still, you kept your smile bright.

"That's okay! I’m not picky. Just, chickens. I’ve got a coop all ready."

He eyed you for a long moment, like he was trying to decide whether you were serious or just another minor inconvenience in his day.

Finally, he jerked his thumb toward the back room.

"Come on."

You followed him past stacks of feed and bundles of hay, heart thudding with excitement.

The small indoor pen was filled with fluffy little chicks, cheeping and milling about under warm lights.

Your whole face lit up.

"They're adorable!" you gushed, crouching down to get a better look.

Shane huffed a laugh under his breath , so quiet you almost missed it.

"Yeah, well. They're a handful, too," he said. "Don't let the cute act fool you. They'll wreck your yard if you don't watch 'em."

You laughed.

"Good thing I like a little chaos."

He gave you a sidelong glance, something like reluctant amusement flickering across his face.

You pointed to a few of the chicks , bright-eyed little fluffballs with tiny stubby wings.

"Can I get two? Maybe three?"

Shane nodded.

"Yeah. Three's a good start."

As he set about gently corralling the chicks into small carrying boxes, he rattled off care instructions in his gruff, no-nonsense way.

"Feed 'em every day. Pet 'em, too. Keeps 'em happy. If they get sick, bring 'em back here. Don’t wait."

You listened intently, absorbing every word.

"Got it," you said, grinning. "Thanks, Shane."

He shrugged, but there was a little less tension in his shoulders now.

When you paid and gathered the boxes in your arms, he muttered something almost too soft to catch.

"You're not like, most people around here."

You blinked.

"Uh, thanks?"

He shook his head, almost to himself.

"Just, don’t screw it up," he said, but his tone was less harsh this time.

More like, worried.

You smiled at him , a real, warm smile , and for just a second, you thought he almost smiled back.

Almost.

────୨ৎ────

By the time you got back to the farm and settled the chicks into their new home, the sun was climbing high overhead, hot and lazy.

You were wiping sweat from your forehead when a familiar voice called out from the gate.

"Hey!"

You looked up to see Leah approaching, her copper hair shining under the sun.

She waved, a bright smile on her face.

"You busy?"

You shook your head, brushing off your hands.

"Not too busy for a friend."

Leah grinned.

"I was heading to hang out by the river , some sketching, maybe a picnic. Want to come?"

Your heart warmed.

"I’d love to."

She beamed and linked her arm through yours, tugging you toward town.

"Come on, then. It'll be fun."

────୨ৎ────

You followed the winding paths through town, past gardens bursting with summer blooms and fields buzzing with life.

Leah led you down to a quiet stretch of riverbank, where a broad oak tree offered cool shade.

To your surprise, someone was already there , lounging on a blanket, sunglasses perched on her nose.

Haley.

Your steps faltered for a split second.

Leah caught it and gave you a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "She’s just, Haley."

You nodded and forced yourself to relax.

You could handle this.

Haley looked up as you approached, lowering her sunglasses with a delicate hand.

She gave you a once-over, expression unreadable.

"Hey," she said, voice neutral.

Not warm.

But not icy either.

Progress, maybe.

You settled onto the blanket a little apart from her, pulling out a small notebook and a pen.

Leah pulled out her sketchbook, flipping to a clean page.

For a few minutes, the three of you simply sat in companionable silence, the river murmuring beside you, birds singing overhead.

It was peaceful.

Almost surprisingly so.

After a while, Haley broke the quiet.

"So," she said, tilting her head, "you actually, like, farm?"

You glanced up, smiling.

"Yeah. It's not glamorous, but it's honest work."

Haley twirled a blade of grass between her fingers, considering.

"I thought you'd be, I don't know. More boring."

You laughed, the sound bubbling out before you could stop it.

"I get that a lot."

To your amazement, Haley actually cracked a smile.

"Well, you're not."

She leaned back on her elbows, squinting up at the sky.

"I guess it's kinda cool. Doing your own thing."

You met her gaze, surprised by the honesty there.

"Thanks, Haley."

Leah grinned behind her sketchbook, catching your eye.

You shared a small, secret smile.

Maybe , just maybe , things were starting to change.

────୨ৎ────

The afternoon drifted by in a haze of sunlight and laughter.

Leah sketched trees and river stones, Haley complained (good-naturedly) about bug bites, and you filled pages with little doodles and notes for future farm projects.

When it was time to head home, Haley actually waved at you.

Not dismissive.

Genuine.

You waved back, heart light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8: VIII | Late nights and Close Confessions

The storm rolled in heavy and fast over Pelican Town.

By early evening, the sky was an endless canvas of charcoal gray, the first heavy drops of rain splattering against your farmhouse windows. Thunder rumbled low and lazy over the hills, and the scent of wet earth rose thick into the air.

You stood at the window for a long moment, watching the world turn to watercolor under the growing downpour. The farm was eerily beautiful in the storm , fields blurred, trees bending gently under the weight of the wind, but it was lonely, too. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the old ache of distance , of being new, of being apart , settle into your chest. A knock at the door made you jump.

You rushed to open it , and found Leah standing there, drenched but grinning, holding two steaming mugs in her hands.

"Hope you like tea," she said, laughing as another gust of wind tousled her copper hair.

You stared for a moment, heart lifting at the simple kindness, before stepping back to let her in.

"You’re a lifesaver," you said, closing the door behind her.

Leah handed you a mug and kicked off her boots, shaking rain from her jacket.

"Figured you might not want to spend the whole storm alone," she said, settling onto the couch with easy familiarity.

You followed, sinking into the cushions with a sigh.

The tea was hot and slightly sweet, warming you from the inside out.

"Thanks," you said again, meaning it.

Leah smiled over the rim of her cup.

"Of course. That's what friends are for, right?"

Your heart softened at the word , friends. It still felt new, shiny, precious.

You nodded.

"Right."

The two of you talked quietly for a while, swapping small stories about the farm, Leah’s latest sculptures, the quirks of Pelican Town life. The storm raged on outside, but inside the little farmhouse, it felt warm and safe.

Eventually, when the tea was gone and the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, Leah glanced out the window.

"I think I'm gonna head back before it gets worse," she said, standing and stretching.

You followed her to the door, reluctant to let the cozy evening end.

She hesitated a moment, then smiled.

"Let's hang out again soon, okay?"

You smiled back.

"Definitely."

She pulled up her hood and dashed out into the rain, disappearing down the muddy path toward town.

You closed the door behind her, heart feeling strangely full and hollow at the same time.

The farmhouse felt even quieter now.

You didn’t want to go back inside just yet.

Grabbing your jacket, you stepped out into the storm.

The rain was heavy but warm, drumming against your skin in a rhythmic, hypnotic beat. You wandered aimlessly, past the fields, through the trees, following the pull of the river's voice.

It was almost comforting, being so small beneath the sky.

Eventually, you found yourself by the bridge near the edge of town, where the river widened and the trees leaned low over the banks.

And there , half-hidden under a thick old oak , sat Sebastian.

He was hunched over, arms resting loosely on his knees, his black hoodie soaked and clinging to his frame.

A cigarette burned low between his fingers, the ember flaring briefly in the dark.

You hesitated.

He looked so far away, so alone.

But then, as if sensing you, he lifted his head.

His eyes met yours , dark, shuttered , and after a beat, he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible motion.

Permission.

You crossed the muddy grass and sat down beside him without a word, pulling your jacket tighter around you.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

The river rushed past in an endless whisper, and the rain danced over the leaves above.

Finally, Sebastian exhaled, smoke curling into the damp air.

"I come out here when I can't breathe," he said, voice low and rough. "When everything, feels too heavy."

You stayed quiet, listening.

He flicked the cigarette into the mud and watched it sizzle out.

"I don't belong here," he said, almost to himself. "Never have."

Your heart ached at the rawness in his voice.

"My mom wanted me to be, something else. Something better. Something normal." He laughed, bitter and soft. "Sam and Abigail , they don’t get it. They think, if we just hang out and mess around, it'll all be fine. Like it’ll fix itself."

You glanced at him , the tight line of his jaw, the way his hands curled into fists against his knees.

"But it doesn't," he said, voice cracking slightly. "It never does."

You swallowed, the lump rising in your throat almost painful.

You knew that feeling too well , the hollow ache of never being enough, no matter how hard you tried.

"I get it," you said, your own voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian turned his head slightly, studying you.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, hugging them close.

"My family," You hesitated, feeling the old scars ache beneath the surface. "They never wanted me to leave. They said I was selfish. Ungrateful. That I'd fail."

The words tasted like rust.

"I wasn't what they wanted, either," you said, staring out at the river. "And when I left, it felt like I ripped a piece of myself out."

For a moment, the only sound was the rain and the rushing water.

Then , quietly, so quietly you almost missed it , Sebastian said:

"Yeah."

A simple word, but heavy with everything left unsaid.

You sat there together in the storm, two broken pieces of different puzzles, fitting imperfectly side by side.

Not fixing anything.

Not saving each other.

Just, existing.

Together.

After a while, Sebastian pulled his hoodie tighter around himself and leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes.

"You ever think," he said, voice rough, "that maybe some people aren't meant to fit anywhere?"

You leaned back too, letting the cold bark press against your spine.

"Maybe," you said softly. "Or maybe we have to make our own place."

Sebastian huffed a quiet, humorless laugh.

"Yeah. Maybe."

Another long silence.

You didn’t mind.

It was the kind of silence that didn't need to be filled.

The kind that said I'm here without any words at all.

Eventually, the rain lightened to a fine mist, and the thunder faded into the distance.

Sebastian stood, shaking water from his hair.

You rose too, legs stiff and cold.

For a moment, you thought he'd just walk away , slip back into the darkness like a shadow.

But then he hesitated.

"Thanks," he said, voice rough.

You blinked.

"For what?"

He shrugged, looking away.

"For not, saying anything stupid."

You laughed , a soft, surprised sound.

"You're welcome."

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face.

And for just a second, you saw it , the boy beneath the armor.

The boy who still wanted, desperately, to believe he could find a place to belong.

He nodded again , that small, almost invisible motion , and then turned, hands shoved deep in his pockets, disappearing down the path toward home.

You watched him go, heart heavy and aching and full all at once.

Unseen by either of you, hidden among the trees, Abigail watched too.

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms.

She had been looking for Sebastian.

She had wanted to find him , to pull him away, to make him laugh, to remind him of who he belonged with.

And instead,

Instead he was with you.

Sitting under their tree.

Sharing their silence.

Her stomach twisted with jealousy, with rage, with something darker she didn't want to name.

She turned on her heel and stormed away, the rain swallowing her footsteps.

────୨ৎ────

Back at the farm, you peeled off your wet clothes, dried your hair with a towel, and curled up in bed with a heavy blanket and a heavier heart.

You stared at the ceiling for a long time, listening to the last whispers of the storm outside. Maybe Sebastian was right. Maybe some people didn’t fit. But somehow, you thought,

Maybe the ones who didn’t fit were the ones who could build something better.

Something real.

Something that mattered.

You closed your eyes, and for the first time in a long time, you dreamed not of the place you had left behind , but of the one you were still building.

One muddy, stormy, hopeful day at a time.

Chapter 9: IX | Tides of Change

The sun blazed high over Pelican Town, chasing away the last lingering traces of spring.

Today was the Luau, the first big summer festival, and the whole town buzzed with excitement.

You stood in the middle of your farmhouse kitchen, cradling a fat, perfect zucchini in your hands, wondering if it was festive enough. It would have to do, your crops weren't exactly prize-winning yet, but you were proud of them all the same.

You packed the vegetable carefully into a basket, tied on a sunhat, and headed toward the beach, the warm breeze tugging playfully at your clothes.

────୨ৎ────

The beach was already alive with color and noise when you arrived.

Bright banners fluttered from posts, and tables were piled high with food, tropical fruits, and pitchers of lemonade. The ocean sparkled in the background, impossibly blue.

You spotted Mayor Lewis bustling around, nervously straightening decorations. Close by, Governor, an important figure from the city, was chatting stiffly with a cluster of villagers.

At the center of it all bubbled the massive communal soup pot, steam rising in lazy spirals.

You weaved your way through the growing crowd, searching for familiar faces.

Under a shady tent near the fruit platters, you found Leah and Haley.

Leah gave a cheerful wave as you approached, her copper hair braided loosely over one shoulder.

"Hey, you made it!" she called.

Haley looked up from where she was rearranging pineapples, giving you a quick once-over.
Instead of her usual disinterest, she actually smiled a little.

"Not bad," Haley said, gesturing at your outfit, a light cotton dress you’d chosen for the heat.
"You're not completely hopeless."

You laughed, taking it as the strange compliment it was.

"Thanks, I think?"

Haley shrugged, a tiny smirk pulling at her mouth.
"Could be worse."

Leah rolled her eyes fondly and handed you a cool drink from the table.

"Come hang out for a bit before the big 'contribution' ceremony starts," she said, making air quotes.

You settled under the tent for a moment, grateful for the shade and the easy company.

It was strange, how quickly Leah had become a solid, comforting presence in your life. A true friend.

You were starting to think Pelican Town really might have a place for you after all.

Not long after, a loud, familiar voice called out across the sand:

"Yo! [Name]! Over here!"

You turned to see Sam waving you over near the soup pot, practically bouncing with excitement.

Beside him stood Sebastian, dressed down in simple swim trunks and a dark tank top, lazily leaning against one of the support beams.
The sun caught in his messy black hair, highlighting the strong line of his shoulders.

You felt a surprising little skip in your chest.

You quickly looked away, cheeks warming slightly.

Sam grinned wickedly as you approached.

"You gotta see this," he whispered, beckoning you closer like a mischievous kid.

You glanced warily at Sebastian, who lifted an eyebrow and said dryly:

"Just remember, if you get blamed, I had nothing to do with it."

You laughed nervously.

"That sounds, reassuring."

Sam pulled a small jar from behind his back, something thick and suspiciously lumpy inside.

"I'm adding this to the soup," he declared proudly. "Secret weapon."

You peered closer, nose wrinkling.

"What is that?"

"Some spicy fermented stuff from my mom's pantry," Sam said with a wicked grin. "It’s gonna be hilarious ."

You hesitated, glancing again at Sebastian for backup.

He shrugged lazily.

"Let Sam be Sam," he said.
Then, with a sly glance, one that could have been teasing or maybe, something else , he added:

"Besides, it's more fun when you don't always play it safe."

Your heart gave an inconvenient little flutter.

You quickly masked it with a sarcastic grin.

"Fine. But if the Governor keels over, I’m blaming you."

Sam snickered and made a grand show of dramatically sneaking the gross concoction into the pot.

Abigail, lurking nearby with her arms crossed, rolled her eyes.

"You guys are idiots," she said, loud enough for you to hear.

You ignored her, trying not to let her obvious disdain bother you.

────୨ৎ────

The day wore on in a blur of salty air and sunshine.

You bounced between groups, laughing with Leah and Haley under the tent, then getting dragged back by Sam for a game of limbo.

Sebastian hung back mostly, half-smiling at the chaos but staying close enough to the edges to stay within reach.

It was easy, somehow, moving between them all.

Like you were weaving your own little net of connections.

But every so often, you'd catch Abigail's eyes following you, narrowed, sharp.

It wasn't just teasing anymore.

There was something darker in her gaze now.

Possessive. Competitive.

It made your skin prickle.

Finally, Mayor Lewis rang the bell, signaling the start of the main event : the soup tasting.

Everyone gathered around the massive pot, watching expectantly as the Governor ladled up a steaming spoonful.

You shifted nervously, standing between Sebastian and Leah.

Sam was practically vibrating with barely contained laughter.

The Governor took a cautious sip.

At first, his face remained neutral.

Then slowly, slowly, his expression shifted.

His eyes widened. His cheeks flushed red. A single bead of sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Ah," the Governor said, voice strained. "A, very bold flavor."

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then Sam completely lost it, doubling over with laughter.

Sebastian smirked, hiding his amusement behind his hand.

Mayor Lewis looked like he might actually faint.

You pressed your lips together, trying not to giggle as the Governor bravely swallowed another sip.

"This will certainly be, unforgettable," the Governor managed.

It was absolute chaos after that.

────୨ৎ────

Later, as the sun began to set and the festival wound down, you found yourself wandering to the quieter edge of the docks.

The ocean stretched out before you, golden with the dying light.

You heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Sebastian approaching, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Figured I'd find you out here," he said.

You smiled, a little shyly.

"Needed some air," you said. "Too much, everything."

Sebastian nodded, stepping up beside you to lean on the railing.

The breeze ruffled his hair, and you caught the faint scent of salt and smoke.

You stood like that for a while, watching the waves.

It was Sebastian who spoke first.

"You ever feel like, even when you're surrounded by people, you're still not really there ?"

His voice was low, almost lost in the sound of the sea.

You nodded, the lump rising in your throat familiar.

"Yeah," you said. "All the time."

Sebastian smiled crookedly, a little sad.

"Guess that's why the water always feels better," he said. "It doesn't ask anything from you. It just, is."

You looked over at him, at the way the fading light painted his sharp profile in soft golds and pinks.

Something tightened deep in your chest, something fragile and terrifying and real.

You didn't say anything.

You didn’t have to.

In the silence that followed, something heavy and important settled between you, not quite friendship, not quite anything else yet, but something .

Something that felt a lot like home.

Far behind you, near the bonfires, Abigail watched.

Her jaw tightened as she saw Sebastian standing so close to you, relaxed in a way he never seemed to be around anyone else.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair.

And she wasn't going to just let it happen.

As the stars began to prick the sky, you and Sebastian eventually wandered back toward the glowing lights of the Luau, together.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn't feel quite so lost anymore.

Maybe you were finally starting to find your place.

One step, one wave, one heartbeat at a time.

Chapter 10: X | Starlit Hideaway

It had been a lazy, golden evening , the kind of summer dusk that melted slowly into night, leaving streaks of pink and orange across the sky.

You were just finishing washing the few dishes from dinner when a soft, uncertain knock sounded at your door.

You frowned slightly, drying your hands on a towel. Visitors this late weren't common.

You opened the door to find Sebastian, standing awkwardly on your porch.

He looked tired. His black hoodie hung loose off one shoulder, and his hair was a little more tousled than usual, like he'd run his hands through it one too many times.

Under one arm, he carried a crumpled sleeping bag.

"Hey," he said, voice low.
"Uh, is your couch free tonight?"

You blinked, startled for a second , then immediately stepped aside, heart fluttering with a mixture of concern and something warmer.

"Yeah, of course. Come in."

Sebastian gave a small, almost embarrassed smile and slipped inside, dropping the sleeping bag by the door.

You made some quick tea while Sebastian flopped down onto your couch, stretching out like a cat.

He looked around your small, cozy cabin , the string lights draped lazily across the ceiling beams, the mismatched furniture, the lingering smell of fresh herbs from your tiny kitchen garden.

"This place suits you," he said after a moment, voice quiet.
"Way better than other places."

You knew he meant his own home without him having to say it.

You sat down cross-legged on the floor nearby, handing him a chipped mug.

"So," you said lightly, trying not to pry. "Bad night?"

Sebastian shrugged, sipping his tea.
"Just needed to breathe, you know?"

You nodded.

"I get it."

He smiled at you then , a real, grateful smile , and for a moment, everything else faded.

The cabin was warm and cozy, but the summer night outside called to you both , the faint hum of crickets, the soft sigh of the breeze through the trees.

"You wanna sit outside for a bit?" you offered. "It’s still early."

Sebastian hesitated , then stood, grabbing his mug.

"Yeah. Porch sounds good."

You grabbed a few blankets from the closet just in case the night got chilly, and the two of you settled on the wide wooden steps of your porch, mugs in hand.

The stars were just beginning to pierce the darkening sky.

It was quiet for a while , the kind of quiet that wasn't awkward, just easy.

"You ever wonder," Sebastian said eventually, tipping his head back to stare at the stars, "if we're just tiny specks in some giant fishbowl?"

You laughed.

"Pretty sure I feel like a speck daily."

He snorted.

"Same."

You sipped your tea, letting the peaceful night soak into your bones.

"You know," you said, nudging him with your elbow, "we could totally make up our own constellations."

Sebastian smirked.

"Go on then, Picasso."

You pointed up at a random cluster of stars.

"That one’s clearly a chicken."

Sebastian barked a surprised laugh.

"A chicken?"

"Obviously."

He tilted his head, pretending to consider.

"Okay, okay, I see it. But that one" , he pointed , "is 100% a guy falling off a skateboard."

You giggled.

"And that one," you added dramatically, "is a guy regretting eating bad Luau soup."

Sebastian laughed so hard he nearly spilled his tea.

You grinned, feeling a warm, fizzy happiness bubbling inside you , the kind that only came from being around the right people.

Eventually, your tea mugs sat forgotten beside you, and you were both sprawled across the porch steps, wrapped in blankets, the night wrapping around you like velvet.

Sebastian rested his head back against one step, arms folded behind his head.

He looked relaxed.

Soft.

Different.

You studied him in the flickering light of your porch lantern , the curve of his mouth, the slight crinkle near his eyes when he smiled.

Maybe it was the moonlight.

Maybe it was the quiet.

But your heart thudded a little harder.

Sebastian caught you looking and raised an eyebrow, a lazy, playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Careful," he said, voice low.
"Staring's dangerous. You might end up falling for me."

He said it so casually that for a second you weren’t sure if you were meant to laugh or blush.

You chose to roll your eyes dramatically, pulling your blanket tighter around you.

"In your dreams, Sebastian."

He chuckled, the sound warm and soft.

"Maybe."

And for one crazy second, you thought , was he flirting?
Or just being Sebastian?

You didn’t know.

You weren’t sure you wanted to know yet.

At some point, the air grew cooler, and you shivered slightly under your blanket.

Without a word, Sebastian shifted closer, tossing half of his blanket over you too.

It was warm under there , not stifling, just, safe.

You peeked up at him.

His eyes were closed now, breathing slow and even, the tension from earlier finally drained away.

You could feel the steady beat of his pulse where your arms barely brushed.

You smiled to yourself, settling more comfortably into the pile of blankets.

The stars wheeled overhead.

The crickets sang their endless lullaby.

And on the creaky wooden porch of your tiny cabin, you and Sebastian drifted into sleep , two specks under a sprawling, endless sky.

Exactly where you were meant to be.

Chapter 11: XI | Chickens, Coffee and Confessions

The faint sound of birdsong stirred you from sleep.

 You blinked slowly, taking in the soft gold light of morning filtering through your closed eyelids.

It took a few groggy seconds to realize , you were still outside.

Wrapped up in too many blankets on your porch.

And beside you, shifting slightly in the nest of fabric, was Sebastian.

You smiled sleepily.

The memories came back: late-night tea, the stars overhead, laughter about constellations and chickens, and then, somewhere along the way, you'd both just, drifted off.

You sat up carefully, trying not to wake him.

The cool air smelled fresh and clean, tinged with the earthy scent of damp wood and distant lavender.

Sebastian stirred but didn’t open his eyes, one arm thrown loosely over his face to block the light.

You slipped inside, quietly making two mugs of tea.

When you returned, Sebastian was sitting up, hair a mess, squinting against the bright morning like a disgruntled cat.

You stifled a laugh and handed him a mug.

He accepted it wordlessly, taking a slow sip, and then sighed.

"Your porch is a death trap for my back," he muttered, voice still hoarse with sleep.

"You survived," you teased, sitting beside him again.

"Barely," he grumbled, but the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile.

You sipped your own tea and leaned back against the porch railing, feeling the kind of quiet peace that was rare and precious.

The two of you watched the sunrise for a while, the sky blooming into soft shades of apricot and pink.

"You ever think about, leaving?" Sebastian asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him.

"Pelican Town?"

He nodded, still staring out across the fields.

"Sometimes," you admitted. "Before I moved here, I used to dream about running away. Finding someplace where people didn't already know everything about me."

Sebastian gave a soft, humorless laugh.

"Yeah," he said. "I get that."

You sipped your tea, letting the cool air wrap around you.

"I don’t think I’m running anymore," you said quietly. "I think, I’m just trying to find something worth staying for."

Sebastian didn't say anything right away.

 But you caught a small, almost imperceptible nod out of the corner of your eye.

You both lapsed back into a companionable silence, sipping your tea and watching the sun climb higher into the pale sky.

After a while, you stretched, wincing at the stiffness in your joints.

"Ugh, I should go let the chickens out before they riot."

Sebastian gave a noncommittal grunt, still cradling his mug.

"You can stay here," you offered. "I'll survive the stampede."

Sebastian smirked faintly.

"Nah. Might as well earn my keep if I’m crashing here."

You laughed.

"Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. They’re feisty in the mornings."

He followed you across the dewy grass to the chicken coop, mug still in hand like a lifeline.

The moment you unlatched the coop door, chaos erupted.

Six chickens poured out in a flurry of feathers and indignant squawks.

Sebastian took an instinctive step back.

One particularly bold hen , a fluffy white ball of rage , made a beeline for his boots.

You bit back a laugh as Sebastian danced backward, nearly sloshing tea on himself.

"What the,?!" he yelped, hopping away as the hen pecked at his shoelace.

You doubled over laughing, barely able to breathe.

Sebastian shot you a betrayed look.

"You said feisty, not murderous."

You wiped tears from your eyes.

"She's just excited! That's Rosie. She likes attention."

Rosie pecked at Sebastian’s boot again for good measure.

"Yeah, well," he said dryly, "she can have all the attention she wants. Preferably from a safe distance."

You managed to coax Rosie away with some feed, tossing a generous handful into the grass.

The other chickens eagerly followed, clucking and scratching happily.

Sebastian watched them warily, keeping one eye on Rosie.

You showed him how to refill the feeder and the water trough, demonstrating the best way to scatter the grain so the chickens didn’t mob him all at once.

He listened carefully, surprisingly gentle when he scooped some feed into his palm and held it out.

A few brave hens approached, pecking softly at his hand.

Sebastian watched them, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

"They're, kinda cool," he admitted quietly.

You grinned.

"Less complicated than people, huh?"

He chuckled.

"Way less complicated."

You sat down on the grass nearby, hugging your knees to your chest.

Sebastian plopped down beside you, sprawling out with a grunt.

Rosie immediately waddled over and settled herself protectively in front of him, as if claiming him as her own.

You laughed again.

"I think you’ve got a new fan."

Sebastian sighed dramatically.

"Great. First groupie, and it's a chicken."

The sun climbed higher as you both lounged in the soft grass, swapping lazy conversation.

Sebastian told you a little about his job as a freelance programmer , the long hours, the isolation, the weird clients.

You shared a few stories from your first weeks in Pelican Town , planting crops the wrong way, accidentally scaring Linus with a watering can, getting hopelessly lost in the mines.

He actually laughed , a low, genuine sound that made your chest feel strangely warm.

You talked about little things.

Nothing heavy.

Nothing complicated.

Just two people sharing the same patch of sun and sky.

Eventually, the warmth and the quiet lull of the day caught up with you.

You dozed off without meaning to, cheek pressed against your arms, the murmur of chickens and the hum of bees lulling you to sleep.

When you woke up , you weren’t sure how long later , Sebastian was still there.

He sat cross-legged nearby, sketchbook balanced on one knee, idly doodling.

He looked peaceful.

Content.

You smiled sleepily at him.

"Did I drool?" you asked blearily.

Sebastian snorted.

"Maybe a little."

You threw a blade of grass at him, and he batted it away lazily.

"You’re lucky you’re good at feeding chickens," you grumbled, stretching.

"You’re lucky I didn’t leave you out here for the raccoons," he shot back, smirking.

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in a long time.

The morning had melted into a long, lazy afternoon , filled with nothing more than sunlight, sleepy chickens, and the quiet, unspoken comfort of not needing to be anywhere else.

And honestly?

You couldn’t have asked for anything better.

 

 

Chapter 12: XII | Anticipation under the Summer Sky

The midday sun poured golden light over the valley, making the fields shimmer.
It was the kind of day that begged for slow conversations and lazy creativity.

You dusted the soil from your hands and made your way toward Leah’s cabin, where you were supposed to meet her and Haley. Leah had promised a laid-back afternoon of art brainstorming , and with the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies approaching, it felt like the perfect excuse to relax after a week of hard work on the farm.

Leah’s door was open when you arrived, the scent of fresh paint and wildflowers drifting onto the path.

Inside, the little cabin was a flurry of activity. Sketches, pieces of driftwood, colored twine, and seashells cluttered every surface.

Haley was already there, perched gracefully on a low stool with a sketchpad balanced on her knees, flipping through pages with a furrowed brow.

"Finally!" Haley called when she spotted you, flashing a bright, slightly impatient smile. "We’ve been waiting forever."

"It’s been five minutes," Leah said, rolling her eyes fondly as she wiped her hands on a cloth.

You laughed, stepping inside and dropping your bag by the door.

"I had to finish watering," you said. "Or my crops would stage a rebellion."

Haley wrinkled her nose.
"I don't know how you do it. All that dirt? Ugh."

Leah chuckled, tossing you a piece of twine to help tie together some small lantern frames.

"You get used to it," you said, looping the twine deftly. "Plus, it’s kind of satisfying seeing things grow."

"Hard pass," Haley said airily. "I’ll stick to taking pictures of the pretty parts."

Despite her usual disdain for hard labor, Haley seemed genuinely engaged with the project. She and Leah had pulled out ideas for shoreline decorations: simple wooden arches, seashell strings, paper lanterns in soft blues and greens to match the ocean.

It was strange, in a good way, watching them bounce ideas off each other , Leah’s natural artistic flair blending with Haley’s sharp eye for color and design.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, tying seashells into a dangling mobile while the two of them debated the merits of using glow-in-the-dark paint.

"You’re obsessed," Leah teased, laughing when Haley insisted that glowing seashells would look "so aesthetic" against the dark water.

"I’m just saying," Haley defended, twirling a piece of twine in her fingers, "it would make amazing photos."

"And blind half the fish," Leah added, grinning.

You smiled quietly to yourself, enjoying their easy banter.

For once, it wasn’t about sides or rivalry. It was just, friendship. A little messy, a little silly, but real.

A few hours later, the sun slanted lower, casting long shadows across the fields.

The three of you had managed to make decent progress , several bundles of driftwood sculptures were drying outside, and the mobile you’d been working on now twirled lazily from Leah’s porch.

"I can’t wait for the festival," Haley said, stretching like a cat. "The Dance of the Moonlight Jellies is seriously one of the only events around here that's actually pretty."

Leah nodded, wiping her hands.

"Yeah. I’ve never seen anything like it before I moved here," she admitted. "Back in the city, nights were all neon lights and noise. Here, it's just the water and the stars."

Haley made a small, thoughtful noise, playing with her bracelet.

"It's peaceful," she said after a moment. "Not that I’d ever admit that to anyone but you guys."

You smiled at them both, heart feeling strangely full.

You had a sudden, vivid image of the three of you , standing together at the shoreline, the world dissolving into dark water and glimmering blue light.

For once, you thought, you wouldn't be watching from the outside.
You’d be part of it.

Later, after helping Leah clean up and saying your goodbyes, you found yourself drawn toward the Saloon.

It was still early evening , the town bathed in amber light , but the sounds of clinking glasses and low conversation already spilled from the open door.

You stepped inside and made your way to the bar.

Gus nodded warmly from behind the counter, and you ordered something simple , a plate of fried mushrooms and a ginger ale.

Shane sat at the far end of the bar, hunched over a beer.
He glanced at you when you sat a few stools away, then grunted a greeting.

"Hey," you said, smiling lightly.

"Hey," he returned, voice rough but not unfriendly.

You ate a few bites in companionable silence.

It was Shane who broke it first.

"You ready for the festival?" he asked, swirling his beer lazily.

You blinked, surprised he was initiating conversation.

"Yeah," you said. "I'm looking forward to it. Everyone says it's, special."

Shane gave a noncommittal grunt, but there was a glint of something in his eyes , almost like wistfulness.

"It is," he said after a moment. "Hard to explain. Just, feels different. Like for one night, everything's quiet, even inside your head."

You nodded slowly, understanding more than you could say.

Shane took a slow sip, then added, almost as an afterthought:

"Jas gets excited about it all month. Talks about it nonstop."

His voice softened slightly when he mentioned her.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest.

"I’m glad," you said. "She deserves a night like that."

Shane didn't reply, but his mouth twitched , the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him all evening.

After a moment, he grunted again.

"If you’re smart, you'll go with people you like. Makes it better."

You tucked that advice away, feeling oddly touched.

"Thanks, Shane," you said genuinely.

He just shrugged, turning his attention back to his beer.

But you got the sense that, in his own gruff way, he meant it.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon when you stepped back into the cool night air.

Lanterns glowed softly in windows.
Crickets chirped.
Somewhere distant, the ocean whispered against the shore.

You walked home slowly, savoring the night.

The town was alive with quiet preparation , a few villagers stringing lights near the docks, kids chasing each other with sparklers in the distance.

As you passed near the bridge by the river, movement caught your eye.

Sebastian.

He leaned against the railing, cigarette forgotten between two fingers, gazing out over the water.

The moonlight painted him in silver , sharp lines softened, dark hair falling into his eyes.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, tempted to call out.

But something about the moment , the stillness, the solitude , felt sacred.
You didn’t want to break it.

Instead, you simply watched for a few breaths, your heart squeezing strangely in your chest, before slipping away silently toward your cabin.

────୨ৎ────

Later, curled up in bed with the windows open to the stars, you thought about the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies.
How the town buzzed with quiet excitement.
How friendships had taken root in unlikely places.
How even people like Shane , people scarred and rough-edged , still found meaning in the soft things.

You drifted off with the scent of salt air in your hair and the promise of glimmering waters waiting just beyond the horizon.

The night was alive with anticipation.

Strings of glowing lanterns swayed along the beach, casting pools of golden light over the sand.
The entire town had gathered, their faces lit with soft excitement as they waited for the first shimmering jellies to appear.

You wandered down the boardwalk, taking in the sights , Leah and Haley fussing over the final placement of a driftwood sculpture, Sam helping Vincent chase fireflies, old George grumbling good-naturedly about the sand in his shoes.

It felt, perfect.

For the first time since you arrived in Pelican Town, you didn’t feel like an outsider looking in.
You were part of the night. Part of the town.

────୨ৎ────

Near the end of the docks, you caught sight of Leah and Haley standing together under a large paper lantern, deep in conversation.

"You did an amazing job with the colors," Leah said, nodding toward the lanterns.

Haley flipped her hair, a little embarrassed.

"Well, not everything has to be about selfies," she admitted with a laugh. "Sometimes it's just nice to make something pretty."

Leah smiled warmly, nudging her playfully.

"You're more creative than you give yourself credit for."

Haley rolled her eyes, but you caught the tiny, genuine smile she tried to hide as she adjusted a seashell garland.

Further down the sand, Sam crouched next to Vincent, holding out a tiny paper boat they'd made earlier that afternoon. "You gotta make a wish before you let it go," Sam said seriously. Vincent squeezed his eyes shut, whispering something too soft to hear. Then he set the little boat afloat, grinning as it bobbed out toward the open water. Sam ruffled the kid’s hair and stood up, looking strangely thoughtful. You smiled softly, touched by the small moment.

You found yourself wandering to the far end of the beach, where the lantern light gave way to soft darkness.

There, leaning against a weathered post, was Sebastian.

He wore simple clothes , dark swim trunks and a loose black t-shirt , and the breeze tugged gently at his hair.

He glanced up as you approached, something like relief flickering across his face.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey," you echoed, coming to stand beside him.

For a moment, you both watched the ocean in silence.
The waves lapped against the shore in a soft, endless rhythm.

Far out over the water, a faint glow began to rise , the first of the moonlight jellies.

You gasped without meaning to, the sight so quietly breathtaking.

Tiny orbs of blue and green drifted through the water like living stars, painting the waves with ghostly light.

Sebastian smiled faintly at your expression.

"They're even better when you don't have a bunch of people talking over them," he said.

You laughed under your breath.

"I can't believe I've never seen anything like this before."

Sebastian shifted slightly, kicking at the sand with the toe of his boot.

"It's, the only festival I actually like," he admitted. "No crowds screaming, no fake smiles. Just, quiet."

You nodded, understanding settling between you like an invisible thread.

He was quiet for a long moment, the ocean breeze tugging at his sleeves.

Then, almost too softly to catch, he said:

"I’m, glad you’re here this year."

You turned to look at him, heart giving a small, startled leap.

Sebastian stared out over the water, his expression guarded but open , like someone offering you a fragile secret.

"I usually spend this thing alone," he added, voice rough around the edges. "Or, with Sam and Abigail, but it’s not the same."

You swallowed past the warmth climbing your throat.

"I'm glad I'm here too," you said softly.

Another long pause stretched between you , comfortable this time, filled with the quiet breathing of the waves and the soft glow of drifting jellies.

Sebastian shifted closer, just enough that your shoulders almost brushed.

"If you ever," he started, then hesitated.
Shook his head.
Tried again.

"If you ever wanna hang out, even when it’s not some big festival, I wouldn't mind."

The offer was clumsy, earnest , and it made your chest ache in a good way.

You smiled, feeling something settle inside you. Something right.

"I’d like that," you said simply.

Sebastian finally looked at you then, a real smile curving his mouth , small and lopsided and heartbreakingly genuine.

The lanterns swung gently above, and the jellies danced across the waves like tiny blue ghosts.

For the first time in a long time, you realized,
you weren’t just passing through this place.
You were building something.

Chapter 13: XIII | Summer's End Bonfire

The beach shimmered under the last golden rays of sunlight, lanterns swinging gently in the salty breeze.

Sam had sent word out the day before; an end-of-summer bonfire, no grown-ups, no town politics, just a night to kick back and soak in the season while it lasted.

When you arrived, barefoot sandals sinking into the warm sand, the others were already gathering. Leah and Haley were laying out thick blankets near a pile of driftwood and old boards Sam and Sebastian had scavenged earlier. Abigail stalked around the edges, tossing small pieces of wood into the pile with unnecessary force.

Sebastian was standing off to the side, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie despite the lingering warmth. His gaze flicked over the beach lazily until it landed on you.

A small nod.
You smiled back and made your way over.

“Hey,” you greeted the group, setting down the small basket of fresh fruit you’d brought.

“Awesome!” Sam said, bounding over. “We needed snacks! This is gonna be sick.”

Haley gave you a surprisingly bright smile , her attitude toward you had thawed recently, and tonight she actually seemed happy to see you.

Leah offered you a quick, warm hug.

“I think this is exactly what we needed before fall sets in,” she said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

The bonfire roared to life shortly after, tall and wild, sparks flying into the purple twilight.

Laughter floated across the beach as everyone relaxed.

Sam threw on a lazy tune with his portable speaker, strumming along on his guitar half-heartedly.
Haley and Leah lounged side by side, comparing tan lines and arguing over which season had the best fashion.
Abigail paced near the edges, occasionally tossing glances toward Sebastian  and you.

You sat on a blanket near the fire, watching the flames dance.

Sebastian drifted over not long after, hands shoved deeper into his pockets, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his face.

He lowered himself onto the sand beside you with a small grunt and stretched his legs out.

"Mind if I crash here?"

You shrugged playfully. "Guess I can spare some sand."

That earned you a quiet snort of amusement.
For a while, you just sat together, the conversation light, touching on everything and nothing.

He seemed... at ease tonight. More open, somehow.

You noticed that while Sam and Abigail were louder and more chaotic across the beach , splashing each other near the waves, daring each other to dive in , Sebastian stuck close to your side, only occasionally glancing over at his old friends.

At one point, Abigail stomped back up toward the fire, dripping wet from the ocean, hair tangled and wild.

"You guys are so boring ," she huffed, kicking sand near where you and Sebastian sat.

Sam laughed from the water, calling, "C'mon, Ab! Not everyone's gotta swim!"

Abigail ignored him.
Her narrowed eyes settled on you , not directly hostile, but unmistakably sharp.

"Some people," she said airily, brushing seaweed off her shoulder, " wouldn’t know fun if it bit them. "

You blinked, feeling the barb. Sebastian shot her a mild glare but said nothing.

Instead, he leaned closer to you , just slightly, and muttered under his breath, low enough for only you to hear:

"She's just mad 'cause she lost at her own idea of fun."

You bit down a grin, warmth curling low in your stomach.
Not at Abigail's petty comment , but at Sebastian’s casual siding with you.

He hadn’t even hesitated.

The night deepened.
The ocean was a rolling black mirror, and the stars spilled across the sky in dizzying patterns.

Conversations slowed into lazy circles. Sam flopped onto a blanket, exhausted from running in the waves.
Haley and Leah lay side by side, pointing at constellations and whispering.

You and Sebastian sat closer now, knees brushing occasionally as you both leaned toward the fire.

"It's weird," Sebastian said after a while, his voice soft, thoughtful. "Summer used to feel endless when we were kids. Now it feels... short. Like it slips away before you even realize it’s leaving."

You nodded, watching the embers drift into the sky.

"I get that," you said. "It's like... the harder you try to hold onto it, the faster it disappears."

He smiled, that small, rare smile that felt more like a secret than an expression.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Exactly."

A long, comfortable silence settled between you.

The fire crackled and popped. The ocean whispered to the shore.
Every now and then, someone laughed or splashed in the water, but it all seemed far away , like you and Sebastian were sitting in your own small world, just on the edge of everything.

Finally, Sebastian stretched his arms over his head, joints popping audibly.

"You’re not bad company," he said, his tone casual, but there was something underneath it.
Something softer.

You snorted. "Wow. High praise."

He laughed, genuine this time, a short, quiet burst of sound that made your chest ache strangely.

"I'm serious," he said, nudging your arm with his elbow.
Then he looked away quickly, fiddling with the frayed edge of his hoodie sleeve.

You didn’t press him.

Some things were better left floating in the air between you, light and unspoken, like the drifting sparks above the fire.

As the fire burned low and the tide crept higher up the sand, you stayed where you were, side by side with Sebastian, sharing the kind of silence that felt heavier than any conversation.

Above you, the stars blinked.
Before you, the ocean breathed.

And inside you, something small and stubborn and warm began to take root.

Chapter 14: XIV | Crisp Morning and Sharper Words

The first breath of fall had crept into the valley overnight, curling through the trees and across the fields like a secret.

When you stepped outside that morning, the world felt sharper , the air was crisp and fresh, scented with drying leaves, damp earth, and the faint smoke of distant hearth fires.

 You wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself, smiling despite the chill. It was the perfect day to pick up seeds for the new season.

The dirt path into town was dappled with early autumn leaves, and you kicked at them absently as you made your way toward Pierre’s General Store.

 The little town square was alive with the beginning of the seasonal shift , cornstalks tied to lampposts, barrels of decorative pumpkins stacked near storefronts.

Inside Pierre’s, it was pleasantly bustling , villagers chatting about crops, festivals, and the first hints of frost. Caroline was at the counter talking animatedly with Jodi about preserving jams for winter, and Pierre himself was restocking a shelf of fertilizer.

You wandered through the familiar aisles, gathering a modest supply of parsnip, yam, and fairy rose seeds into your basket.

You were just comparing two different seed packets when a familiar voice rang out behind you.

"Stocking up for fall already?"

You turned, blinking.

 Abigail stood there, a bag of snacks slung over one shoulder, her purple hair wild around her face like a storm cloud.

"Yeah," you said, keeping your tone light. "Gotta keep the farm going."

She gave you a sharp little smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Right. Gotta impress everyone, huh?"

The words were casual, but something in her tone made your stomach tighten. You tucked the seed packets under your arm and offered a neutral shrug.

"I'm just doing my thing."

For a moment, it seemed like she might let it go. Abigail shifted her bag onto her hip and glanced around the store idly.

 But when her gaze settled back on you, there was a flicker of something , jealousy, frustration , that she didn’t bother to hide.

"You’re really making yourself comfortable around here," she said, her voice low enough not to draw attention.

 "Must be nice... getting all that attention."

The meaning behind her words was clear.

You tightened your grip on the basket handle, feeling a familiar pang of anxiety.

 You hadn’t done anything wrong , but guilt still tried to creep in, like it always did when someone was upset with you.

Still, you made yourself breathe. Stay steady.

"I’m not looking for attention," you said calmly. "I’m just living my life."

Abigail gave a small, humorless laugh.

 "Sure. You just happened to slip right into everyone’s good graces. Must be easy when you’re the new favorite."

There it was , the bitterness.

 Not just anger , hurt.

You suddenly realized: this wasn’t really about you.

 It was about her. Her feeling left behind, outgrown, maybe even replaced.

You could have walked away right then. It would have been easy.

 But something inside you , maybe the months of struggling to carve a place for yourself here, the memories of your own bitter past , made you stay.

You set the basket down carefully on the nearest shelf and met Abigail’s gaze head-on.

"Look," you said, your voice firm but not unkind,

 "Whatever you think is going on... it’s not. Sebastian and I are friends. That’s it."

Abigail’s mouth pressed into a thin line, her arms folding tightly across her chest.

"If you have a problem with me," you continued, "then talk to me. But if you have a problem with Sebastian... maybe you should talk to him."

The words hung between you, sharp and cold as the fall air outside.

For a long moment, Abigail just stared at you.

 Her face flushed, not just from anger , but from embarrassment, too.

She didn’t say anything.

 Didn’t apologize.

 Didn’t argue.

Instead, she gave a short, frustrated huff and turned on her heel, disappearing into another aisle.

You exhaled slowly, feeling your hands tremble slightly from the adrenaline.

 You hadn’t meant to pick a fight , but you weren’t going to let yourself be bullied, either.

Carefully, you gathered your basket back into your hands and headed to the counter.

Pierre greeted you warmly, oblivious to the tension lingering in the store’s aisles, and you managed a small smile as you paid for your seeds.

The crisp air outside felt even sharper against your cheeks as you stepped into it again, but this time , it felt good.

 Cleansing.

 Like shedding a weight you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying.

 

 

Chapter 15: XV | Chicken Coop Confessions

The first week of fall had taken the town in full swing, and Pelican Town had transformed almost overnight. The leaves were shifting into shades of deep gold and amber. The breeze carried the smoky scent of bonfires and rich, earthy soil.

The farm felt... quieter now.

 More settled.

 You didn’t mind it , you liked the way the world seemed to exhale with the turning of the season.

 But the unsettled feeling from your encounter with Abigail still clung to you, lurking in the back of your mind like a splinter under skin.

You tried to shake it off as you tugged on your jacket and set off down the winding path toward Marnie’s Ranch.

 You needed more hay and chicken feed before the rain rolled in later this week, and honestly?

 You needed an excuse to be somewhere else for a while.

The walk was peaceful , the grass was damp underfoot, the trees whispering overhead.

 When you finally reached the familiar red barn, you saw Marnie's truck missing from the drive.

 Only the low cluck of chickens and the occasional grunt from the cows filled the air.

You wandered toward the coop, expecting to find the place empty.

Instead, you spotted Shane.

He was standing near the chicken pen, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, tossing handfuls of feed into the coop.

 A cigarette dangled loosely from his lips , unlit, for once , and his hair stuck up messily from the slight drizzle that had started.

He looked... surprisingly at home.

 At peace, almost.

You hesitated for half a second, then called out,

 "Morning!"

Shane flinched like you’d fired a gun near his head.

 He turned, narrowing his eyes against the rising sun.

"...Oh. It's you."

 His tone wasn't exactly welcoming , but it wasn't hostile, either. It was just... Shane.

You stepped closer, careful not to spook the chickens.

"Marnie not around?" you asked.

He shook his head, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"She’s out with Jas. Dance lessons or something. I got stuck babysitting the livestock."

 He glanced down at the feed bag and grimaced.

 "...They bite."

You laughed, drawing a small, reluctant smirk from him.

"Here to pick up feed?" he asked after a beat.

You nodded. "Yeah. My chickens are eating me out of house and home."

Shane snorted. "Get used to it. They're bottomless pits."

You leaned against the nearby fencepost, watching him work in silence for a minute.

 There was something calming about the way he moved , efficient, focused.

 Not the sloppy, half-drunk version of Shane that some of the town liked to whisper about behind closed doors.

Maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was the leftover frustration you still hadn’t shaken from yesterday , either way, the words tumbled out of you before you could think better of it.

"Had a rough run-in with Abigail yesterday."

Shane didn’t look up immediately.

 He scooped another handful of feed, tossed it into the coop.

"Yeah?" he said, casual.

You hesitated, then sighed, pushing your hair back.

"She cornered me at Pierre’s. Basically accused me of... I don’t know. Stealing her friends. Trying too hard. Getting too much attention."

 You shook your head, the memory making your stomach knot again.

 "It was... not great."

For a long moment, Shane just kept working, like he hadn’t heard you.

You started to regret saying anything.

But then he shrugged one shoulder and muttered,

 "Sounds about right."

You blinked.

 "Wait , what?"

He finally turned to look at you, leaning against the fence with an almost lazy posture.

"Abigail’s been like that since she was a kid," he said bluntly. "Gets close to people, freaks out when they have other friends. Takes everything personal."

He reached up, tugged the cigarette from his mouth and tucked it behind his ear absentmindedly.

"You didn’t do anything wrong," he said.

 "Some people just... can't handle not being the center of the universe."

You stared at him, a little stunned.

Shane offered a lopsided smirk, reading the look on your face.

"What?" he said. "You think just 'cause I don’t say much, I don't notice this town’s drama?"

You laughed , genuinely , and the tension you’d been carrying since yesterday finally started to unravel in your chest.

"I guess I just didn't expect you to... care," you admitted.

He snorted.

"I don't. Not really."

 But there was a small, glinting kindness in his voice that softened the words.

 "You’re not the first person to get on Abigail’s bad side, you know. She’ll get over it."

You hopped up to sit on the fence, swinging one boot idly.

"Easy for you to say. You don’t have to deal with passive-aggressive comments every time you buy seeds."

He grinned at that , a rare, real smile that lit up his usually sullen face.

"You ever try just ignoring it?"

"I’m terrible at ignoring things," you said dramatically, making him huff a quiet laugh.

There was a lull then, filled only with the soft clucking of the chickens and the rustle of leaves overhead.

Finally, Shane shoved his hands in his pockets and said,

 "Look. People like that? They don't hate you. They hate... change.

 They hate feeling like they’re being replaced."

You blinked, surprised by how dead-on he was.

He shrugged.

"Let 'em figure their own mess out. Don’t let ‘em rent space in your head for free."

You stared at him for a moment , then smiled, warm and genuine.

"That’s... really good advice," you said, a little stunned.

Shane looked almost embarrassed, glancing away and muttering,

 "Yeah, well. I’m full of surprises."

You kicked lightly at the fence rail, watching him toss the last of the feed into the coop.

"You’re a lot smarter than you pretend to be, you know."

He gave you a side-eye look.

"Don’t go telling people that," he said dryly. "I’ve got a reputation to maintain."

You laughed again, and to your surprise, he chuckled with you , not the bitter, hollow sound you’d sometimes heard from him at the Saloon, but something real.

For a moment, the world just felt... lighter. Like the weight you’d been carrying since yesterday had finally blown away with the autumn wind.

 

You and Shane ended up spending the better part of the afternoon working around the coop.

 He showed you how to spread fresh straw properly without suffocating the chicks, and you helped him fix a loose hinge on one of the smaller pens.

It was companionable , quiet, but not awkward.

 You talked about little things , favorite rainy day foods, how irritating crows could be, the best places to find blackberries this time of year.

At one point, Shane got a mouthful of straw when he tried tossing a bale overhead, and you both dissolved into laughter so hard you had to sit down in the grass.

 You hadn’t laughed like that in... a while.

 Not the polite kind of laughter you gave at the Saloon when someone cracked a clumsy joke , real, belly-aching laughter that left you wiping tears from your eyes.

It felt good to laugh like that.

 To just be, without worrying about anyone else’s expectations.

Maybe friendships didn't have to be flashy or dramatic.

 Maybe they just had to be real.

And this , whatever strange, messy friendship you were building with Shane , felt real.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, painting the fields gold and long shadows stretched across the dirt paths, Shane stood and dusted off his jeans.

 You stayed sitting a minute longer, soaking it in , the crispness of the air, the soft sounds of the animals, the easy silence between you.

Finally, Shane jerked his head toward the barn.

"C’mon," he said gruffly. "I’ll get you that feed you came for."

You smiled, standing and brushing off your own pants.

 "Thanks, Shane. Really."

He shrugged like it was no big deal, but you caught the faintest flicker of something in his expression , something almost like pride.

"You’re alright, farmer," he said, almost teasing.

 "Don’t let the drama queens in town get in your head."

You laughed under your breath and followed him toward the feed storage.

 The air was cooling fast, the scent of woodsmoke threading through the crisp autumn breeze.

As you walked back to your farm later, heavy bag of feed slung over your shoulder, you realized something:

 Today had been simple.

 Nothing grand or wild or extraordinary.

But it had mattered.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 16: XVI | Paths Crossing in the Rain

The rain had been threatening all morning , thick, heavy clouds rolling in from the mountains, the air thick and expectant.

 Still, you hadn’t wanted to put off your errands.

 You'd promised Gus a bundle of foraged mushrooms and wild onions for his new seasonal stew, and you were determined to keep your word.

Your boots squelched along the muddy path as you made your way into town, your basket bundled under one arm, a thin jacket pulled tightly around you.

 The first fat drops of rain started falling halfway there, and you cursed under your breath, tugging your jacket's hood tighter over your head.

By the time you reached the edge of town, the sky had cracked wide open , sheets of cold rain soaking everything in minutes.

 You were drenched, breathless, blinking water from your lashes.

You stumbled into the small alcove next to the Carpenter’s Shop, gasping and laughing a little under your breath at how ridiculous you looked.

 You shook your arms out, trying to dislodge the water, when you realized you weren’t alone.

Someone sat tucked back under the awning , half-hidden by shadow, a familiar figure dressed in black.

 Sebastian.

 Of course.

He had his hood up, long legs stretched out, a cigarette burning low between two fingers, smoke curling up into the damp air.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

He stared at you, head tilted slightly, as if trying to decide whether you were real.

 You must have been a sight , soaked, muddy, hair plastered to your face.

You gave a breathless little laugh, pushing your dripping bangs out of your eyes.

 "Fancy seeing you here."

Sebastian snorted, a small, amused sound.

 "You look like you fought the rain... and lost."

You laughed again, the sound muffled by the storm.

 "Yeah, well. I’m stubborn."

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face , not the sarcastic, biting smirk you sometimes saw when he was teasing Sam or Abigail, but something softer.

Without a word, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a slightly battered black umbrella , one you hadn’t even noticed tucked under his seat.

He gave it a little shake, then held it out to you.

You blinked.

 "Seriously?"

He shrugged one shoulder.

 "I don't really need it. I’m already out here."

 Then, after a beat, he added, a little awkwardly, "But you look like you might melt if you stay much longer."

You stepped closer, taking the umbrella from him carefully, your fingers brushing his.

 He was warm , absurdly warm, in contrast to your chilled skin.

"Thanks," you said, voice a little softer now.

Sebastian hesitated, glancing at the rain, then back at you.

"...I'll walk you to town," he said, sounding almost casual.

 "You look like you'd get blown away otherwise."

Your heart did a little unbidden jump.

 You pretended not to notice.

 "Okay."

Together, you stepped out into the storm , Sebastian ducking slightly to fit under the umbrella with you.

 You tried to hold it high enough for both of you, but you kept bumping shoulders, jostling each other in the narrow space.

 He smelled like rain and smoke and something earthy, something grounding.

Neither of you said much on the walk.

 Just the squelch of boots in mud, the soft hiss of rain against the umbrella.

But you could feel it , a quiet, steady warmth between you, something unspoken but unmistakable.

By the time you reached Gus's saloon, your fingers were numb and your basket was dripping, but your heart was thrumming for an entirely different reason.

Sebastian pushed the umbrella back into your hands when you tried to return it.

"Keep it," he said simply.

 "You'll need it more than I will."

Before you could protest, he gave you a small, crooked half-smile , the kind that made your chest ache a little , and turned away, hands shoved deep into his pockets, disappearing into the misty afternoon.

You stood there for a long moment, umbrella drooping in your hand, feeling the lingering heat of where his arm had brushed yours.

Maybe you were imagining it.

 But you thought... maybe he lingered, too.

────୨ৎ────

You sat curled up in a patchwork blanket, cradling a chipped mug of hot tea in your hands.

 Leah’s cabin smelled like woodsmoke and wet moss, cozy and grounding.

 Rain still drummed gently against the roof, but the fire in her little stove kept the chill at bay.

Leah bustled around, drying her hair with a towel, laughing when she saw you trying to warm your frozen fingers.

"You’re a mess," she teased fondly, tossing you another blanket.

"Tell me about it," you muttered, wrapping yourself up tighter.

Leah settled into the chair opposite you, propping her feet up, sipping her tea.

 For a while, you just sat there, the peaceful kind of silence that only happens with people you’re truly comfortable with.

Then Leah gave you a sly look over the rim of her mug.

"So," she said slowly.

 "I hear you had an interesting walk back to town today."

You choked slightly on your tea.

"W-what?"

She smiled, all innocent mischief.

 "Sebastian’s been hanging around the saloon more lately. Gus mentioned you two looked pretty cozy under that umbrella."

You groaned, burying your face in the blanket.

"It wasn’t , we were just , it was raining!"

Leah chuckled, unbothered.

 "I’m not saying anything happened," she said.

 "But, uh... the way you look at him? Pretty sure it’s not just about the umbrella."

You opened your mouth to deny it , to say something, anything , but nothing came out.

 Heat rose to your cheeks, and Leah laughed again, softer this time.

"Hey," she said, her voice turning kind.

 "No judgment. He’s a good one. A little broody, sure. But he’s real. Genuine."

You hugged the blanket closer, heart thudding uncomfortably.

"I’m not..." you started, then stopped.

 Because the truth was, you didn’t even know how to finish the sentence.

Leah just smiled at you knowingly.

"You don’t have to know yet," she said gently.

 "Just... don't be afraid to feel things."

You nodded slowly, gazing out the window where the rain blurred the world into soft, trembling watercolor.

Maybe she was right.

 Maybe , for once , you didn’t have to have everything figured out.

Maybe it was okay to just let things happen.

 

────୨ৎ────

 

The rain had eased into a misty drizzle by the time you stepped out of Leah’s cabin, umbrella once again clutched in your hand , this time more of a keepsake than a necessity.

The world was quiet in that post-storm way: leaves still dripping, the dirt path soft beneath your boots, birds just starting to pick up their songs again. The valley always had this sense of calm after a downpour, like it was exhaling.

As you made your way back home, the thoughts wouldn’t stop tumbling around in your mind , snippets of Sebastian’s voice, the way he’d offered you that umbrella without hesitation, and the look he gave you before he walked away. Not overtly affectionate. Not dramatic. Just... genuine.

You didn’t want to make too much of it.

But you couldn’t help the flutter it left behind.

You reached your cabin and stepped inside to the comforting smell of earth and wood , damp clothes draped across the back of a chair, kettle already on the stove. You pulled the extra blanket from your bed, wrapped yourself tightly, and settled by the window.

Outside, you spotted a pair of wild rabbits darting through the wet grass, their fur slick with rain.

You thought of something Sebastian had said the other day , something small, almost forgettable:

 "Sometimes I like the rain better than the sun. It makes everything feel... quieter."

 At the time, you’d nodded, not quite getting it.

Now, you did.

There was something safe in the gray stillness. Something soft.

 

The rain had passed by morning, leaving the air cool and crisp. Fall was still a few weeks away, but there was a bite in the breeze , the kind that hinted at firewood, foggy mornings, and warm mugs between cold fingers.

You had just finished tending to your garden , your hands still dirt-smudged, your hair in a messy braid , when a familiar knock sounded on your cabin door.

You weren’t expecting anyone.

You wiped your hands on your apron and opened the door, heart skipping slightly.

Sebastian stood there, hands in his hoodie pockets, head tilted in that way he always did when he was trying to act like he hadn’t just walked all the way here for no reason.

“Hey,” he said. “You weren’t at the saloon last night.”

You blinked. “I didn’t know I had a standing appointment.”

He gave you a dry look, then cracked the tiniest smirk. “Maybe you should.”

You arched a brow, trying to mask the flush that crept up your neck. “Well, if you missed me that badly, you could’ve just sent a note.”

Sebastian shrugged, but his mouth twitched , that nearly-smile again. “I didn’t say I missed you.”

“No, but you walked all the way here to tell me I wasn’t somewhere.”

“That’s... purely circumstantial.”

You snorted, opening the door wider. “You want to come in?”

He hesitated a second before nodding, stepping inside with that slow, careful gait of someone unused to being invited in.

You motioned for him to sit wherever, and he eventually settled on the floor near the fireplace, stretching his legs out.

“So,” you said, settling into your armchair with a mug of tea. “What brings you out here, really?”

He glanced at you, then at the fire.

After a moment, he said, “Sam and Abigail were arguing again.”

You didn’t say anything , just sipped your tea, waiting.

“They do it a lot,” he continued after a pause. “It’s not always serious. But sometimes... I just need quiet. Space.”

You nodded slowly. “I get that.”

He glanced around your cabin. “It’s peaceful here. Doesn’t feel like the rest of the town.”

You smiled faintly. “That’s kind of what I was hoping for.”

Sebastian leaned back on his elbows, looking at the ceiling.

“Everyone always acts like you’re supposed to want that kind of noise. The parties, the attention. But I don’t know... Sometimes I think the best moments are the ones no one notices.”

You watched him for a moment, trying to read his expression. There was something raw under the surface, something he wasn’t fully saying.

“Maybe it’s okay to want quiet,” you said gently.

He looked at you then, properly. “You think so?”

You nodded. “I think people underestimate how healing it can be.”

There was a long silence after that. Not uncomfortable. Just full , like a shared understanding passed between you.

Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “You ever feel like you’re not really meant to fit in anywhere?”

You blinked.

The question hit harder than you expected.

“All the time,” you admitted. “That’s kind of why I came here. I needed to be somewhere that didn’t expect me to be anything.”

Sebastian’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

Then he said, so quietly you barely caught it:

 “You’re not as alone as you think.”

You didn’t know what to say to that , your throat tightened too quickly.

So instead, you reached down, pulled the blanket from the back of your chair, and wordlessly tossed it at him.

He caught it, eyebrows raised.

You looked away, pretending to be absorbed in your tea.

Sebastian chuckled , just once, low and genuine , and shook the blanket out before draping it over his legs.

“Thanks,” he said.

You just smiled.

You had dinner plans with Leah and Haley , a sort of impromptu soup night that Leah insisted on throwing every few weeks.

By the time you got there, the sun had dipped below the treeline, and the sky was painted in pinks and deep purples.

Leah opened the door with a grin. “You’re late.”

“Fashionably,” you replied.

Haley was already inside, curled up on Leah’s window seat, flipping through a local magazine.

“I see you survived the rainstorm yesterday,” she said, giving you a side glance.

“Barely,” you replied, hanging your jacket. “Would’ve drowned if not for Sebastian, honestly.”

“Oh?” Haley perked up, her grin mischievous.

You groaned. “Why do I open my mouth around any of you?”

Leah chuckled as she stirred the soup. “Because deep down, you like us.”

You did.

You really did.

The three of you sat down to eat, the meal warm and hearty, the room lit by soft lanterns and the glow of the fire.

Eventually, Leah started teasing you again, though this time with that telltale look in her eye.

“You know,” she said, spoon tapping her bowl, “you’ve been looking at Sebastian lately like he’s... more than just your broody neighbor.”

You sputtered. “I do not!”

“You absolutely do,” Haley chimed in, grinning. “It’s like... soft eyes. Like you’re petting a puppy with your gaze.”

“I’m going to throw my soup at both of you.”

Leah laughed, Haley giggled, and you buried your face in your hands.

But beneath the embarrassment, something warm bubbled in your chest.

They were teasing, yes. But it felt... light. Friendly. Close.

 Like you were becoming part of something. Like the valley was wrapping you in something gentler than you’d ever known.

As the night wore on and the soup dwindled, you found yourself watching the fire crackle, wondering where Sebastian was now.

Back at the lake?

 Home?

 Still thinking about the quiet?

Maybe tomorrow, you’d ask if he wanted to go for a walk again.

Maybe you’d bring the umbrella this time.

Just in case.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 17: XVII | Falling Leaves, Falling Walls

The first week of Fall had settled over Pelican Town like a wool blanket, warm in places, scratchy in others. The trees had exploded into color almost overnight, their fiery reds and burnt oranges swaying softly in the cool breeze. Scarecrows stood proudly in the fields, pumpkins were beginning to round out, and a low buzz of excitement filled the town square as villagers prepared for the upcoming Fall Festival.

You had decided to set up your very first display this year, a small booth tucked near the edge of the square, close to the worn wooden fence that overlooked the river. Your heart thumped with a familiar nervousness as you arranged your small harvest: a few bright orange pumpkins, some polished cranberries, jars of homemade jam with uneven labels, and one careful centerpiece, a small hand-carved wooden figure of a chicken, something you had made on a rainy afternoon when you first moved here.

You weren’t sure if it was enough to impress anyone. Honestly, you weren’t even sure if it mattered. But it felt important to try.

You were bending down to straighten a slightly wobbly jar when a shadow fell over your booth.

You glanced up, brushing a stray hair from your face and there he was.

Sebastian.

Dressed in his usual black hoodie and dark jeans, looking just a little rumpled like he hadn't planned on seeing anyone. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and his expression was carefully neutral, but there was something in his eyes, something quieter than usual.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, almost cautious.

“Hey,” you answered, blinking in surprise. You hadn't expected him here so early. Most of the bachelors and bachelorettes were still lazily setting up or wandering around town.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Sebastian just stood there, looking at your display like it was the most interesting thing in the world, even though it was painfully humble compared to some of the other stalls you’d seen being built.

Then he kicked at a loose stone with the toe of his boot and muttered, “Looks good. Better than half the crap out here.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Thanks. I’m pretty proud of the chicken.”

Sebastian huffed a soft laugh, a real one, and then without asking, dropped down into a crouch next to you, idly picking up a jar of jam to inspect it.

You glanced at him sideways, noticing how the cool autumn light softened his usually sharp features. His black hair was slightly messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times.

"You okay?" you asked gently.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he fiddled with the jam jar, his thumb tracing the ridges in the glass. Then he sighed, low and rough, and set it down.

“Got into another argument with Demetrius,” he said finally, voice tight.

You sat back on your heels, careful not to push him, but letting him know you were listening.

Sebastian shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Same old stuff. ‘Why can’t you be more like Maru?’ ‘When are you gonna get serious about your life?’ ‘When are you gonna stop wasting time on your computer and your...’” He trailed off, waving a hand vaguely. “You get the idea.”

You stayed silent, giving him the space to continue if he wanted.

“I mean, Maru’s great. She’s smart. She’s doing all the ‘right’ things. I’m happy for her.” He plucked a yellowed leaf from the ground and began tearing it apart absentmindedly. “But it’s like... there’s no space for me to be anything different. If I'm not on some ‘productive’ path, if I'm not working toward some big important goal, then I’m just... a disappointment.”

His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and he immediately clammed up, staring hard at the ground like he regretted saying anything at all.

You reached out without thinking and nudged his arm gently.

"You're not a disappointment," you said, voice firm in a way you didn't usually use. "Not even close."

Sebastian looked at you then, really looked, and for a second, you swore the world tilted a little on its axis. There was so much loneliness etched into the lines around his eyes, so much resignation, and for the first time, you realized how deeply it ran.

“I don't know why I’m even telling you this,” he muttered, cheeks turning faintly pink. “You’ve got your own stuff to deal with.”

You shrugged, offering a small smile. “Maybe because you know I get it.”

His mouth twisted in something between a grimace and a smile, and the tension between you softened a little.

For a while, the two of you just sat there quietly. The town buzzed in the background, Marnie’s laugh ringing out near the general store, kids chasing each other around booths, Lewis bellowing orders at a very distracted Sam, but it all felt distant. Like the world had pulled back, leaving just you and Sebastian under the broad, sprawling trees and the drifting autumn leaves.

At some point, Sebastian reached over and straightened the small wooden chicken you’d carved, his fingers brushing yours for a fraction of a second. It was so brief it could’ve been an accident, but neither of you pulled away immediately.

“It’s cool,” he said after a beat, voice soft. “The carving. It’s... personal. Not just, like, produce to show off.”

You smiled, warmth blooming unexpectedly in your chest.

"Thanks," you murmured, heart thudding a little too fast.

There was a long pause, not uncomfortable, just thick with things unsaid, before someone across the square called Sebastian's name. It sounded like Sam, but you couldn’t be sure.

Sebastian didn’t move right away. He lingered there, crouched beside your booth, staring at the leaves skimming across the ground.

Finally, he stood slowly, brushing off his jeans. He glanced back at you, that same guarded look breaking just enough for something softer to leak through.

“I’ll... see you around, yeah?” he said, voice unusually quiet.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling up at him. “Definitely.”

Sebastian hesitated, his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something else, something important, but then he just nodded and walked away, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

You watched him go, a strange, fluttering feeling settling behind your ribs.

On the other side of the square, Leah and Haley leaned against one of the pumpkin-laden carts, chatting as they sampled small bites of roasted sunflower seeds.

"I think her booth looks adorable," Leah was saying, tilting her head toward your stall. "Simple but real, you know?"

Haley shrugged, twirling a strand of her blonde hair. "Yeah, it's... not bad. I guess. For a first-timer."

Leah grinned knowingly, nudging her lightly. "You’re warming up to her."

Haley rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

The afternoon sun drifted lower in the sky, casting a warm amber glow across Pelican Town. You remained near your booth, watching the way the sunlight danced on the river’s surface just past the fence. People wandered around, mingling between stalls and laughing in easy conversation, the kind that came only in a town this small and familiar.

A few villagers stopped by your display here and there, Penny complimented your jam and said she'd love to trade recipes sometime, and even George gave your pumpkins a begrudging nod of approval before muttering something about "finally, someone who knows how to grow them properly."

You were about to rearrange one of your signs when a familiar voice drifted toward you.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

You looked up to see Leah strolling over, her red hair pulled back into a loose braid, a small sketchbook tucked under her arm. She smiled and gave your table a once-over, then leaned against the fence beside you.

“Your stall looks great,” she said warmly. “Rustic. Honest. The carving's my favorite.”

You blushed a little at the compliment, still not quite used to being on the receiving end of praise from someone like her, someone whose art you actually admired.

"Thanks. Yours is amazing too," you said, nodding toward her vibrant, colorful sculpture across the square, an abstract swirl of autumn leaves and copper wire.

Leah waved a hand modestly. “I don’t know, the town doesn’t always ‘get’ the weird artsy stuff. But it felt good to make something just because I wanted to.”

You both stood in comfortable silence for a minute, the sound of the festival humming around you, laughter, the crunch of boots on dry leaves, distant music from Emily’s record player set up at her stall.

Then Leah shot you a sideways glance, lips quirking.

“So…” she said slyly, “Sebastian was here earlier, huh?”

Your eyes widened just a fraction. “Yeah, he, uh… stopped by.”

Leah raised a single, perfectly arched eyebrow. “Stopped by and then stayed for, what, twenty minutes? That’s basically a lifetime in Sebastian hours.”

You gave a quiet laugh. “We just talked.”

“Mmhmm,” Leah said, clearly not buying the innocence of your tone. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so open. Relaxed.”

You looked down at your boots, nudging a leaf with your toe. “He’s going through a lot.”

“Yeah,” Leah said more softly now. “He’s not great at letting people in. But you, he does. Let you in.”

The idea made your chest feel warm and heavy at the same time. You didn’t respond, but the look in your eyes must’ve said enough.

Leah nudged you again with her elbow. “Just saying. Keep being yourself. It’s working.”

You smiled, grateful for her support,  for her presence in general. Of all the things you hadn’t expected when you moved here, forming a friendship with someone like Leah had been one of the best surprises.

Before you could say more, a cheerful voice called out behind you.

“Hey, are you guys just hiding over here or what?”

You turned to see Sam approaching, his usual upbeat grin in place, a cider cup in one hand and his festival ribbon prize pinned crookedly to his shirt. “I’ve been looking for you two. Mayor Lewis is about to announce the ‘Judge’s Favorite Display.’ Thought you’d wanna watch the drama unfold.”

You laughed. “I didn’t realize there was drama.”

Sam leaned closer and stage-whispered, “There’s always drama. Especially if Pierre doesn’t win.”

Leah rolled her eyes affectionately. “Come on,” she said, tugging your sleeve. “Let’s go see who’s the talk of the town this year.”

As twilight began to settle and the lanterns around the square were lit, the mood shifted into something softer, a kind of collective winding down. Kids sat cross-legged on hay bales, couples wandered along the river path, and a few of the musicians started playing slower, acoustic melodies.

You had packed up most of your display by then and were sitting at the edge of the fence, watching the fireflies rise from the grass like sparks.

You didn’t expect company, so when someone sat beside you, quiet and without announcement. You jumped slightly.

“Sorry,” Sebastian murmured, not looking at you. “Didn’t mean to sneak up.”

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice a little quieter than usual.

The two of you sat there in companionable silence for a while, legs swinging over the edge of the fence, watching the world exhale around you.

Then, after several minutes, Sebastian broke the quiet.

“Thanks for earlier. For listening.”

You turned to look at him, but he kept his eyes forward, watching a flickering lantern sway in the breeze.

“I meant it,” you said. “You’re not a disappointment.”

A breath left him, not quite a sigh, more like the release of something he'd been holding too long.

“I know my mom means well,” he said slowly. “But with Demetrius, it’s different. I always feel like I have to prove I deserve to be there. Like I’m a guest in my own house.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in his voice.

“I can’t imagine how that feels,” you said. “But I know what it’s like to feel… less. Especially when you’re just trying to live your life in a way that makes sense to you.”

Sebastian glanced at you then, and in the low glow of the lantern light, his eyes looked softer, almost vulnerable.

“I’m glad you moved here,” he said suddenly.

The words hit you in a strange, fluttery place. You blinked.

“I mean,” he added quickly, “it’s nice. Having someone around who… gets it.”

Your stomach flipped in a way that made no sense. You swallowed and nodded, letting your arm brush lightly against his.

“I’m glad I moved here too,” you whispered.

Another moment passed between you, charged with something unspoken, something becoming .

And then, like the spell had been broken, Sebastian stood.

“I should head home before Mom sends Maru to drag me back.”

You stood too, brushing off your hands.

“Well… thanks for coming by,” you said, suddenly shy.

Sebastian hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something more, then just gave a small nod and turned.

But just before he walked away, he paused and glanced over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You looked up.

“That chicken carving? It deserved to win.”

And then he disappeared into the darkening square, leaving you with a smile you couldn’t quite stop and the sound of your own heart, quiet and full, in the early autumn night.

────୨ৎ────

By the time you returned home, the stars were out in full. The sky above the valley shimmered with pinpricks of silver, and the air had a sharp crispness that hinted at the deeper fall to come. The festival lights were still flickering faintly in the distance, muffled laughter and the soft hum of music trailing behind as the town continued to celebrate into the night.

You kicked off your boots just inside the front door of the cabin, your arms sore from carrying boxes and lifting crates. Your back ached faintly, your hands smelled of cedar and pumpkin, and yet… you felt a quiet, rooted peace settle into your chest.

After lighting a candle on the kitchen table and warming a mug of cider, you stepped out onto the porch, wrapped in one of the heavier quilts Leah had helped you barter for earlier in the season. You sank down onto the porch steps and let yourself exhale fully for what felt like the first time all day.

The crickets were singing. Somewhere down the path, a frog croaked once, lazily. And overhead, the stars kept blinking like they knew some secret the rest of the world hadn’t yet uncovered.

You sipped your cider and let your thoughts wander.

Sebastian’s voice echoed in your head, soft and uncertain: “I’m glad you moved here.”

It hadn’t been flirtatious, not exactly. He wasn’t the type to toss around careless compliments or charm. And yet, there had been something in his eyes, something fragile and real when he had said it.

He didn’t say things like that to just anyone. You were sure of it.

Your gaze drifted toward the empty chair beside you on the porch, and you imagined for a moment what it might be like if he were still here, the two of you bundled under the same blanket, silently watching the stars. You weren’t even sure if you wanted that… but the thought lingered like warmth in your chest.

It was strange. You hadn't come to Pelican Town looking for connection, certainly not something complicated like feelings. And Sebastian, with his guarded sarcasm and shadowy quiet, hadn’t seemed like someone who’d make you feel... understood .

But now, it was undeniable, he did understand you. Maybe more than most people ever had.

Still, it was too soon to know what that meant.

You hugged your knees to your chest, resting your chin there, the quilt pulled tightly around your shoulders. Your cider had cooled. The candle flickered beside you in its jar, the flame small and determined.

“I’m glad I moved here too,” you whispered to the stars, echoing your words from earlier. You weren’t sure if anyone was listening, if he was still walking home under this same sky. But saying it aloud helped. It grounded you.

The breeze rustled the trees beyond your cabin, and you sat with it,  with the quiet, the questions, and the beginning of something you didn’t yet have a name for.

Whatever it was it didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

 

Chapter 18: XVIII | Roll for Initiative

The crisp whisper of early fall swept through the valley, painting the trees in brighter oranges and deeper reds by the day. Your mornings were starting with layered sweaters and your evenings with wool socks and warm tea, and despite how much the air bit your nose and fingers, you found yourself falling in love with the season.

And with the way Pelican Town had started to feel like a place you could belong.

You were busy stacking firewood near the cabin when a gentle knock on the fence caught your attention. Sebastian stood there, dressed in his usual black hoodie, hands tucked into his sleeves. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes darted toward the forest line, like he was second-guessing his presence here.

You set the bundle of kindling aside. “Hey,” you greeted, wiping your hands off on your jeans. “Everything okay?”

Sebastian nodded. “Yeah. Just… wondering if you’re free tonight.”

That was new.

You raised an eyebrow. “Free for what?”

He shifted his weight, a rare, almost sheepish smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Solarian Chronicles. Sam and Abigail are coming over, and we’re starting a new mini-campaign. Figured we could use a fresh set of eyes. Plus, Sam said you mentioned tabletop games once?”

Your heart skipped, both at the invitation and the fact that he’d remembered such a small, offhand comment.

“Are you sure?” you asked, not wanting to step into a space that wasn’t yours. “I don’t want to crash the party.”

“You’re not crashing.” He paused. “Sam was the one who brought it up, but I think it’d be cool. And, well… it’d be nice to have someone else there who doesn’t always try to set things on fire when diplomacy’s an option.”

You laughed. “Okay, I’m in.”

He nodded, satisfied, and turned to head back up the path. But before he disappeared around the trees, he looked over his shoulder. “Bring a character idea. Doesn’t have to be complicated. And, uh… maybe snacks.”

────୨ৎ────

Sebastian’s room was warmer than usual that evening, partly from the soft glow of fairy lights he’d strung across the ceiling, and partly because of the slight tension already thickening the air when you stepped inside.

Sam was lounging on the rug, cross-legged with his guitar case pushed into a corner, his face lighting up when he saw you. “Hey, newcomer! You ready to slay goblins and probably die in a comedic but noble way?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a grin, handing over the snacks you’d brought , a mix of Leah’s homemade trail mix and fresh cider doughnuts.

Abigail, however, barely acknowledged your presence. She sat on Sebastian’s bed with her arms folded, expression unreadable, her violet hair tucked behind one ear.

“Didn’t realize we were opening this up to anyone,” she muttered as you settled in next to Sam.

Sebastian didn’t look up from the notes he was shuffling, but his voice was clear. “You said last week you wanted a bigger party for the next campaign.”

“I meant Krobus.”

“Pretty sure Krobus doesn’t play Solarian Chronicles.”

You busied yourself with your notebook and dice set, pretending not to notice the small war brewing three feet away.

The game started slowly , character intros, world-building, the basics of your group’s quest , but the moment you settled into your role as a sarcastic but sharp-witted ranger, things began to feel natural. Sam’s barbarian was ridiculous and loud, Abigail’s necromancer was brooding and chaotic, and Sebastian, as the Dungeon Master, was smooth-voiced and wickedly clever.

He wove a narrative that sucked you in. Every forest path, every dungeon trap, every shifty-eyed NPC , you could see them clearly in your mind, brought to life by the way he narrated them with eerie precision.

Occasionally, when you made a bold move or cleverly navigated an encounter, he glanced at you with something like surprise , the kind of look you weren’t used to earning. “Nice,” he said once, after you rolled a perfect 20. “You’ve got a good instinct for this.”

You tried not to smile too much, but it lingered in your chest.

Abigail, meanwhile, had gotten quieter. Her character went off solo during one encounter, breaking the flow, and when Sam teased her for “going rogue again,” she shot him a glare.

It wasn’t until later, during a break for snacks and cider refills, that things took a turn.

You followed Sebastian into the kitchen to grab plates, and while Sam chatted about his newest band idea in the next room, Abigail stayed behind on her phone, silent.

Sebastian handed you a plate and leaned casually against the counter. “You’re doing really well. It usually takes people a few sessions to get the hang of it.”

You smiled. “Well, I’ve always liked the idea of pretending to be someone else for a while. It’s… freeing.”

He tilted his head a little, eyes thoughtful. “Yeah. Same. It’s easier to speak your mind through a character. Say things you’d normally keep to yourself.”

You glanced at him. “You ever do that? Say things you mean, but only in the game?”

He paused, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Maybe.”

“Is this one of those times?”

He smirked, gaze dropping to the plate of snacks in his hands. “You’ll never know.”

Your heart did a small, traitorous flutter at that.

Before either of you could say more, Abigail’s voice echoed from the other room: “Are we continuing this tonight, or should I just summon a meteor and end the campaign early?”

Sebastian sighed and handed you the extra cider can. “Let’s get back before she rage-quits again.”

The second half of the game was shorter, but the tension lingered like smoke. Abigail became snappier with every roll, questioning your choices or suggesting “better” ones. Sam, bless his heart, was oblivious, offering high-fives and encouraging dramatic narration.

But it was Sebastian who grounded the whole thing.

Each time Abigail threw out a sarcastic jab, Sebastian met it with a neutral tone, guiding the party back on track. And when your character saved his from a trap, he looked over the screen at you and , without the usual teasing , said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The rest of the session passed in a dreamlike blur.

────୨ৎ────

Eventually, it was time to pack up. Sam offered to walk Abigail home, which she accepted with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t say goodbye to you , just brushed past on her way out the door.

Sebastian lingered as you gathered your things.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “Really. That was… more fun than usual.”

“I had a great time,” you said honestly. “And your campaign world is incredible. You put so much detail into it.”

He shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I like building things. Even if it’s just fantasy stuff that no one sees.”

“I see it,” you said quietly. “And I think it’s amazing.”

Sebastian hesitated, then nodded, almost bashfully. “You’re good at this. I wasn’t sure you’d like it, but you… fit. Better than I expected.”

You smiled, warm and slightly shy. “Maybe you’ll have to let me join again sometime.”

He held your gaze for a beat longer than expected. “Maybe I will.”

────୨ৎ────

You walked home under a sky slowly filling with stars, your breath misting the air. The trees whispered gently overhead, and somewhere in the distance, an owl called out.

You were still smiling by the time your cabin came into view.

And though your mind should’ve been focused on campaign stats or battle plans, all you could think about was the way Sebastian had looked at you when he said: I’m glad you’re here.

And you wondered , as you had a lot lately , what exactly it was that he saw in you.

 

Chapter 19: XIX | The Things we don't say

The skies had turned overcast that morning, clouds smothering the early autumn sun as if the season itself couldn’t decide whether to hold onto summer or let the chill creep in. The trees had already begun their slow transformation, reds and golds dotting the canopies, spilling over the winding paths like scattered embers.

You didn’t expect a knock on your door that late in the day, the hour hanging somewhere between late afternoon and early evening, when the town was still and the air was sharp with that earthy scent only fall could bring.

It was Sebastian.

Hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, a faint smell of tobacco and pine clinging to him. His eyes didn’t quite meet yours at first. “Hey. Uh… you doing anything right now?”

You shook your head, stepping out onto the porch. “Not really.”

He scratched the back of his neck, voice quieter now. “There’s this trail up near the old railroad tracks. I haven’t walked it in a while. Figured I’d see if you wanted to come.”

It was such a simple offer. But you understood what it really meant. Sebastian didn’t just ask people to go somewhere unless he wanted to be with them. And you were learning that his invitations were always honest, never given lightly.

You said yes.

────୨ৎ────

 

The walk was quiet at first, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. The path twisted up past the spa and behind the railroad station, into a thicket of birch and oak trees. It was quieter here, less touched by the usual bustle of the town, more like a place forgotten by time.

You kicked at a few acorns on the ground, crunching leaves beneath your boots. Sebastian walked beside you, not too close, not too far. There was something about his presence that always made it easier to breathe.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “I used to come out here when I was a teenager,” he said, voice low. “When stuff got… overwhelming. I’d just walk. Pretend none of it existed.”

You nodded slowly, understanding more than you wanted to admit.

He glanced at you. “You ever do that? Run away just to feel like you existed somewhere else?”

You let out a breath. It shivered on the way out.

“All the time,” you murmured.

He didn’t say anything. He just kept walking. But his pace slowed a little, like he was giving you time to decide whether to speak more.

You swallowed. The words were hard, like stones in your throat. But they were there. Always had been. Maybe they were finally ready.

“I didn’t leave my hometown for adventure or anything exciting,” you said. “I left because I had to.”

He glanced over, his brow furrowed slightly. But still, no interruption. Just quiet listening.

“My mom, she…” You paused. The wind tugged at your sleeves. “She wasn’t just strict or demanding. She was cruel. In ways that people don’t always believe unless they see it.”

You kept walking. You couldn’t look at him yet. The trees were safer.

“I don’t remember a single day where I felt accepted by her. She hated everything about who I was, My interests, my quietness, my decisions. And every time I tried to choose something for myself, it was like I was betraying her.”

The silence stretched. He didn’t speak. But you felt his attention like a warmth beside you.

“There were moments,” you continued, “when she’d get so angry, she’d just… snap. Not often. But enough. Enough to make me flinch when doors slammed, or hands raised. She never beat me, not like in stories, but it was enough. Once, when I told her I wanted to move out of state for college, she slapped me so hard I saw stars. Said I was ‘selfish’ and ‘ungrateful.’ That I’d ruin her reputation.”

Sebastian stopped walking.

You stopped, too.

His expression was unreadable. Jaw tense. Eyes dark beneath his fringe.

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally. And it wasn’t empty. It wasn’t the kind of sorry people said when they didn’t know what else to offer. It was a real sorry. The kind you feel in your chest.

You shook your head. “I don’t talk about it much. Not because I’m ashamed. Just… because when you live in it for so long, you start to think maybe you were the problem.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”

You blinked. “You do?”

His eyes turned to the trees ahead, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket again. “Demetrius is… he’s not abusive. Not like that. But he has a way of reminding me daily that I’ll never be Maru.”

You stayed quiet.

“He talks like science and success are the only things that matter. Like anything else; music, coding, staying up past ten, is just a sign that I’m wasting my life. And my mom… she just lets him.”

You felt your chest tighten. That hollow ache of recognition.

“I used to stay in my room for hours,” he said, voice softer now. “Just to avoid them. I still do. Sam says I vanish too much, but sometimes it’s just easier to disappear than keep justifying who I am.”

You looked at him, and he finally met your gaze.

It was like something broke open in both of you, not in a way that shattered, but in a way that let light finally get in.

“I think,” you said slowly, “that’s the loneliest part. Feeling like you have to defend your right to be who you are. Every single day.”

He nodded.

You both stood there for a long moment. The wind stirred the leaves around you. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed.

And then, quietly, he stepped a little closer.

“You don’t have to do that here,” he said, eyes on yours. “You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone in Pelican Town. Not to me. Not ever.”

You smiled, faint, but real. “Thank you.”

He gave you a rare, almost shy look, like maybe he wasn’t used to being so exposed. But he didn’t retreat.

Instead, he gestured toward an old mossy bench ahead, half-buried in golden leaves. “Wanna sit for a bit?”

You both did, the wooden bench creaking beneath your weight. You shared your silence with the wind and the rustle of trees. And for once, the quiet didn’t feel like hiding. It felt like being seen.

As the stars flickered overhead and the wind grew colder through the trees, you and Sebastian started the walk back toward town, neither of you in any rush. The silence between you had changed, no longer heavy or fragile, but softened, easy. There was something grounding in it now, like shared gravity.

Sebastian adjusted the strap of his hoodie and glanced sideways at you as the faint lights of the town shimmered through the thinning trees. “You wanna come back to my place for a bit? I was probably just gonna put a movie on. Something low-effort.”

You blinked, surprised, but nodded. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

He offered you a small, genuine smile, the kind that only rarely made it to his eyes.

The two of you walked the rest of the way side-by-side, cutting across the fields behind the carpentry shop, the familiar creak of the back porch settling under your steps. He unlocked the side door quietly, the one that led straight down to his room, and let you in first. The coolness of the basement air hit your skin, tinged with a faint scent of cedar and worn fabric.

His room was dim but cozy, lit by the soft glow of his computer monitor and the low hum of string lights lining the ceiling. The fish tank gurgled gently in the corner. Familiar posters and figurines sat undisturbed on the shelves.

You settled on the couch as he fiddled with the DVD shelf, pulling out a couple of old, well-loved sci-fi films.

“Anything with space battles and emotional repression is usually my go-to,” he said dryly.

You let out a soft laugh. “Sounds perfect.”

Sebastian popped the disc in, dimmed the lights further, and flopped down beside you with a comfortable huff. The screen glowed blue before the film began to roll, filling the room with the sounds of orchestral build-up and distant stars.

It was quiet after that, not awkward, not stilted. Just… quiet.

Somewhere in the middle of the movie, as the characters argued over the fate of a dying galaxy, you felt Sebastian shift beside you. The blanket he’d grabbed earlier had started to slide off the couch arm, and without a word, he reached over, flicked it over both your laps, and leaned back with a slight sigh.

You mirrored his posture, not touching, but close enough that his presence was a calm warmth beside you.

Time blurred. Your head grew heavy on your shoulders, and the hum of space dialogue faded into the background. You blinked slowly, the exhaustion from earlier hitting all at once. You weren’t sure when it happened, whether it was the soothing rhythm of the soundtrack or the long day finally weighing down on you, but you felt yourself drift.

Sebastian’s shoulder barely moved when your head tilted and gently rested there.

You froze for a moment, unsure. But he didn’t pull away. If anything, you heard him let out a breath, slow and soft. Then the shift of fabric as he leaned just slightly, resting his head against yours in return.

It was quiet.

No grand declarations.

No need to explain anything.

Just two people, worn and weathered, leaning into the silence.

The movie played on  forgotten.

And together, without a word, you both drifted into sleep beneath the blanket, the screen casting pale light across your still forms, while the world outside spun quietly on.

 

Chapter 20: XX | Forest light and Friendly teasing

The forest in early fall was its own kind of magic.

Gone was the dense green of summer, replaced with hints of fading gold and crisp orange at the edges of the leaves. Sunlight filtered gently through the trees in soft, buttery slants. The air was warm, but not heavy. A perfect in-between. Somewhere in the distance, a woodpecker tapped rhythmically against a birch, and a slow breeze stirred the canopy overhead.

You stepped lightly over a scattering of acorns on the worn trail, following the sound of distant laughter.

It didn’t take long to spot Leah and Haley near the base of a large maple tree, Leah sitting cross-legged with her sketchbook open on her lap, charcoal smudged on her fingers, while Haley stood a few feet away with her camera raised, snapping shots of the shifting leaves overhead.

You hesitated for only a moment, then stepped into view.

“Hey,” you called, lifting your hand in a wave. “Mind if I join you two?”

Leah looked up instantly, her smile bright. “Of course not! Get over here. I was starting to think you'd forgotten about us.”

Haley lowered her camera and turned to you, sunglasses perched on her head. “You’re late,” she said, but her voice lacked any actual bite. “We’ve been out here for like an hour already.”

You grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Got distracted watering the pumpkins. Again.”

Leah chuckled and patted the open patch of grass beside her. “Well, you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

You settled beside her, exhaling as the sounds of the forest folded around you. For a while, the three of you sat comfortably, Haley wandered between patches of light and shadow, occasionally crouching to snap a photo of a mushroom or interesting tree knot, while Leah quietly sketched the curve of the distant hills. You watched them both, marveling at how they fell into their crafts so naturally.

“I still don’t get how you make this look so easy,” you said, tilting your head toward Leah’s sketchbook. “My stick figures don’t even look like sticks.”

Leah laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s all muscle memory. And patience. Trust me, my early drawings looked like I was holding the pencil with my feet.”

Haley, without looking up from her camera, called out, “You should see my first photos. Way too much flash. Everything looked haunted.”

You giggled and leaned back onto your hands, letting the sunlight warm your face. It was rare lately, this kind of peace, surrounded by people you actually liked being around.

“So,” Leah said a moment later, her voice taking on a sing-song lilt. “What have you been up to since our last girl hang?”

You blinked, playing innocent. “Not much. Just… you know. Farming. Trying not to get buried under apples. I swear that tree is plotting against me.”

Haley snorted. “Honestly, same. Except replace ‘apples’ with my sister’s passive-aggressive notes on the fridge.”

You laughed together, and something in your chest warmed further. The leaves above rustled, casting dappled shadows across your knees.

You were content to leave it there, light, safe. But then the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“I, uh… also hung out with Sebastian the other night. Actually stayed at his place.”

You hadn’t meant for it to sound so casual. Or suspicious.

But the moment the sentence left your mouth, Leah’s head snapped up, and Haley spun on her heel.

“…You what?” Haley asked, narrowing her eyes like a hawk who’d just spotted prey.

You blinked, caught. “It’s not what it sounds like-”

“Oh my god,” Leah whispered, already grinning. “You slept with him.”

“I did not! ” you exclaimed, holding up both hands in defense.

Haley raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “You just said you slept at his place. That’s literally what that means.”

Leah leaned in closer, eyes twinkling. “Details. I want all the non-scandalous, scandalous details.”

You groaned and dropped your face into your hands. “You two are insufferable.”

“We try. ” Haley smirked, crouching down beside you. “Okay, okay. Spill. What actually happened?”

You took a breath, cheeks warm. “We talked. That’s it. We had a really long conversation about… stuff. Our families, mostly. He was having a rough night. I was too. We ended up watching a movie, and I guess we fell asleep. On the porch. Outside. Under a pile of blankets.”

Leah made an exaggerated gasping sound. “Oh noooo. Not blanket cuddles. The scandal deepens.”

You gave her a dry look. “Leah.”

“What?” she laughed. “I’m just saying. That’s practically a relationship milestone. Next comes ‘accidentally’ brushing hands over popcorn.”

You groaned louder and leaned back in the grass, arms flung dramatically out. “Why do I tell you things?”

Haley snapped a photo of you right as you covered your face again.

“Memory preservation,” she said solemnly. “To remember this moment. The moment you became Sebastian’s girlfriend in denial.”

“I am not -!”

“-yet,” Leah chimed in, winking.

You covered your eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath. But honestly, you weren’t even mad. Embarrassed? Yes. But mad? Not even a little.

The teasing was good-natured. Familiar. The kind of thing only friends who liked each other could get away with.

Haley flopped down beside you and plucked a blade of grass, twirling it between her fingers. Her voice, when she spoke next, was lighter.

“I guess I never expected you and Sebastian to be friends. I thought he only came out of the basement for Sam and late-night fog walks.”

You tilted your head. “Believe me, I didn’t expect it either. But… he’s easy to talk to. Once you get past the emotional armor and sarcasm.”

Haley smirked. “Sounds familiar.”

Leah reached over and gently nudged your shoulder. “I think it’s sweet. He needs someone like you.”

You glanced at her. “Like me?”

She smiled warmly. “Someone who sees the good in people, even when they don’t think it’s there. And who doesn’t mind sharing a porch blanket when it gets cold.”

You laughed, soft and shy. “You make it sound more romantic than it was.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Haley said. “I’m sure the romantic part is coming. You just won’t see it until it runs you over.”

You rolled your eyes and stared up at the rustling leaves above, letting yourself laugh freely with them. The sound echoed through the trees, full and honest.

For a while, you all just lay there, watching the clouds drift overhead in silence, not the awkward kind, but the kind that blooms between people who trust each other to just be.

It struck you then, somewhere in that quiet: you hadn’t laughed like this with other girls in years. Not back home. Not where everything you did was either criticized or ignored. Not where every laugh came with a cost or a consequence.

But here? With Leah’s hand stained in charcoal and Haley’s hair catching the sun and the warmth of the earth beneath you?

Here, it felt like freedom.

Like healing.

Like something new and real.

The late afternoon air carried the scent of pine and golden grass as the trio made their way down the worn dirt path back into town. Haley’s camera swung at her side, and Leah cradled her sketchbook in her arms like it was spun from fragile glass. The forest had been their haven for hours, filled with easy laughter, teasing banter, and a few heartfelt moments that felt like they’d carved a new chapter into their friendship.

"Okay, but I'm still reeling from the fact that you literally slept over at Sebastian’s place and didn't think to tell us," Haley said, bumping her shoulder lightly against your’s

"You make it sound like I hid it on purpose," You replied with a chuckle, hands stuffed into the pockets of your light fall jacket. “It wasn’t that big a deal. We just watched a movie and ended up falling asleep on the porch.”

Haley raised a knowing brow. “Under a bunch of blankets. On the porch. With Sebastian.”

“I mean… yes?”

Leah gave a soft snort. “That’s practically the most intimate thing he’s ever done, and you expect us not to make a big deal out of it?”

“I didn’t even know he owned more than one blanket,” Haley muttered.

You laughed, cheeks heating. “It wasn’t like that, seriously. We just talked about a lot of personal stuff. It was… emotional.”

That softened their teasing, but only a little.

Leah glanced sideways at you with a grin. “Emotional cuddling is still cuddling.”

────୨ৎ────

As they approached the glowing windows of the Stardrop Saloon, the buzz of chatter and warm golden light spilled out onto the cobbled street. It was still early in the evening, just past the dinner rush, but the familiar sound of Gus laughing behind the counter and the click of pool balls told them the place was lively.

Inside, the saloon was comfortably full. Emily was dancing lightly along to the jukebox music as she wiped down tables, and Gus gave them a welcoming wave from the bar.

Haley led the way toward one of the side booths, but she stopped in her tracks and subtly pointed with her chin. “Look who it is.”

Across the room, near the pool table, stood Sam and Sebastian. Sam had a cue in hand and was lining up a shot, while Sebastian leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and a lazy smirk on his face. Abigail was sprawled across the nearby red sofa, arms crossed and eyes sharp as she subtly watched the two boys, though more specifically, Sebastian.

You felt your stomach flutter involuntarily.

Leah and Haley exchanged glances and then simultaneously turned their gazes to you.

“Oh my god,” Haley whispered under her breath, dragging it out with the weight of years of girl gossip. “You like him.”

Your eyes widened. “I do not -”

“You do,” Leah confirmed, grinning as she sat in the booth and set her sketchbook beside her. “And that’s okay. It’s cute.”

“It is not a big deal,” You hissed, sliding in beside her and trying to hide the fact that she had definitely, definitely noticed the way Sebastian's hoodie was pushed up to his elbows and how his forearm tattoos flexed as he casually reached for his drink.

“Uh-huh,” Haley said, settling across from them and waggling her eyebrows. “Totally not a big deal that you had a movie night under the stars with the most emotionally unavailable man in town and now can’t stop looking at him.”

“You’re the worst,” You muttered, hiding your face in the menu.

“You love us,” Leah sang, tugging the menu down just enough to wink.

The teasing simmered into cozy conversation as Gus came over to take their order. They each picked something warm and comforting, Leah went for a hearty vegetable stew, Haley ordered garlic noodles, and you went with Gus’s famous chili. Warm cider was passed around the table, and before long, their laughter blended into the hum of the saloon.

From the corner of your eye you caught Sebastian looking over, just a glance, subtle, but his expression softened when he saw you with your friends. He said something to Sam, who turned and gave a wave, and then Sebastian offered a small nod of acknowledgment before returning to the game.

“See that?” Haley said, sipping her cider smugly. “He noticed you before you even looked at him.”

Leah added, “That’s the look of someone who’s glad you’re here.”

“I’m going to pass out,” You muttered, laughing despite yourself

They spent the rest of the evening tucked into their booth, enjoying the food and the atmosphere. Leah showed some of her forest sketches, and Haley flipped through the photos she’d taken, some of you from earlier, some of the forest bathed in golden light, and one of Leah sketching by the riverbank.

“You should frame this one,” You told Haley, pointing to the candid shot of Leah focused on her art.

Haley actually blushed. “It’s not bad. Maybe I will.”

By the time the plates were cleared and the sky outside had turned a deep navy blue, the saloon had quieted. Sam and Sebastian were wrapping up their game, and Abigail had long since stalked off, her irritation hanging in the air like a stormcloud that hadn’t broken.

“I think that’s our cue to call it a night,” Leah said, standing and stretching with a small groan. “This was nice.”

“Let’s do it again soon,” You agreed, scooting out of the booth. your gaze flicked once more to Sebastian, who had his back turned now, speaking to Sam, but your heart did that little skipping thing again anyway.

Haley threw an arm around your shoulders as they stepped outside. “So. About those feelings you definitely don’t have…”

“Do you want to be left in the forest tomorrow?”

“Touché.”

They walked into the night beneath a sky glittering with stars, the warmth of friendship tucked around them like one of Sebastian’s many blankets. No big confessions, no declarations, but something was growing here. Soft. Steady. Real.

And for now, that was enough.

 

Chapter 21: XXI | Cold hands Warm Company

Winter in Pelican Town had arrived like a quiet exhale. Snow blanketed the earth in soft white, muting the once-lively colors of fall. Your cabin, already small and modest, had grown colder by the day. The creaky floorboards seemed to shiver beneath your boots, and even bundled in three layers, you felt the chill settle deep into your bones.

The crops were gone for the season, but the animals remained. Your chickens clucked warmly in their coop, and your small barn housed a pair of goats you’d bought late in fall. Every morning, you trudged through snow-dusted paths, breath clouding the air, to check on them. They greeted you with soft noises, nudging your hands for food and attention, and though your fingers were numb, it warmed your heart.

Robin had offered cabin upgrades in the fall, but you hadn’t taken her up on it, there were always too many other expenses. Now, as a draft crept under the door and your hands trembled trying to light the fireplace, you wished you’d made it a priority.

You didn't realize how sick you were until your head began to throb and your limbs felt heavy as lead. At first, you tried to ignore it, insisting you were just tired, that it was the cold. But that morning, when you nearly fainted in the chicken coop while gathering eggs, you knew something was wrong.

You made it back inside, shakily sitting down at your table and clutching your blanket around you. Your stomach turned with nausea, and a cold sweat slicked your back. You didn’t want to worry anyone, but your body made the decision for you, it was shutting down for rest.

A soft knock came at your door just before midday. You opened it to find Sebastian standing in the swirling snow, black hoodie zipped up to his chin, eyes sharp with concern.

“Hey,” he said, looking you over. “You look... terrible.”

“Thanks,” you rasped, voice hoarse. “That’s just what every girl wants to hear.”

He gave you a half-smile but didn’t laugh. “Leah said she hadn’t seen you in a couple days. I figured I’d check in.”

You stepped back, letting him in without a word. The warmth that usually accompanied him seeped into your bones as he entered. He frowned when he noticed how cold the inside of your cabin was.

“You haven’t been able to get a fire going?”

“I’ve tried. I think I’m too tired. Or my hands are too shaky.”

Sebastian didn't hesitate. He peeled off his gloves and crossed the room, crouching near the fireplace. You watched from the couch as he coaxed flames into life with practiced patience, stacking wood until a cozy crackling filled the room.

“Better?” he asked, standing and brushing ash from his hands.

You nodded. “Much.”

His eyes softened as he looked at you again. “You’re sick. You shouldn’t be alone in here, it’s freezing.”

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted, though your voice cracked and betrayed you.

Sebastian walked over and sat on the arm of the couch. “No, you won’t. Pack a bag. You’re coming with me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“My room’s warm. And I’m not going to let you freeze to death trying to prove you’re strong enough to tough out pneumonia.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the dizziness hit you again like a wave. Maybe... just this once, accepting help wouldn’t be weakness. It would be survival.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

Sebastian helped you gather a small bag, just enough for a couple of nights. He insisted on carrying it and gave you his scarf when he noticed your chattering teeth. The walk to his house was slow and cautious, snow crunching beneath your boots as you leaned into his side for balance.

────୨ৎ────

When you arrived at his basement room, it was like stepping into another world. The warm glow of his lava lamp, the subtle scent of pine, the gentle hum of his space heater, it all wrapped around you like a hug.

“You can take the bed,” he said, tossing your bag onto it. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You sat down, too tired to protest. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But I want to.”

────୨ৎ────

 

The next two days passed in a blur of sleep, warm tea, and the occasional sarcastic remark from Sebastian that somehow always made you smile. He didn’t hover, but he was always there, bringing you extra blankets, reading from one of his books out loud when he thought you were dozing, and making sure you stayed hydrated.

He even helped feed your chickens once, though he came back muttering about how “one of them definitely tried to kill me.”

You laughed so hard you started coughing, and he had to rub your back until you could breathe again.

“You’re the worst nurse ever,” you wheezed.

“Yeah, but I’m great company,” he shot back, flashing you a sideways smile.

────୨ৎ────

By the third night, you were sitting up with more energy. Sebastian was on his computer chair, spinning lazily, and you were wrapped in a blanket on his bed with a mug of tea in hand.

“I’ll probably head home tomorrow,” you said, softly.

He looked over, surprised. “You sure?”

You nodded. “I feel better. And I don’t want to overstay.”

There was a pause, and then he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I’m glad you stayed,” he said. “It was... nice. Having you here.”

Your heart stuttered a little. “Yeah,” you agreed. “It was.”

He didn’t say anything else right away, and neither did you. But the silence wasn’t awkward. It was warm. Comfortable.

After a while, he clicked off the desk lamp and joined you on the bed, not under the covers, just beside you, backs resting against the wall.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep next to him. But when his shoulder brushed yours and he didn’t move away, when his warmth radiated over and your breathing synced, it was easy to close your eyes.

And when you woke in the morning, still wrapped in a blanket, your head resting lightly on Sebastian’s shoulder and his arm slung around your side, you didn’t move. You just let yourself stay in that moment a little longer, wondering, quietly, if this friendship of yours had started to become something more.

────୨ৎ────

You woke slowly to the faintest trickle of morning light threading through the closed curtains of Sebastian’s room. The warmth pressed against your side told you he hadn’t moved either. Still cocooned under the same soft blanket from the night before, your body was heavy with lingering sleep, but your mind floated somewhere just above peace.

Sebastian was close, close enough that you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing next to you. His arm had somehow ended up draped loosely over your waist, not in a deliberate way, but more like something that had just… happened overnight. You didn’t move. Didn’t want to. It was one of the first mornings in a long time where your body didn’t ache from cold or effort the second your eyes opened.

Your throat still stung faintly, and your nose was stuffy, but the relentless chill from your cabin had been replaced by the comfortable heat of Sebastian’s room and the soft smell of linen, pine soap, and that distinct scent you were quickly associating with him.

He stirred. You could tell from the way his hand curled slightly against your side, and then he let out a small breath.

“Oh,” he murmured, voice still raspy with sleep. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” you whispered back.

He didn’t move his arm. Didn’t even pull away from you, and that made your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with illness. After a moment of shared stillness, he finally sat up, ruffling a hand through his hair and glancing at you over his shoulder.

“You look a little better,” he said. “Still kind of pale, though.”

You sat up slowly, stretching a little under the blanket. “I feel better. Not great, but… definitely better than yesterday.”

He got up and crossed to his computer desk, switching on the soft overhead light and then padding toward the door. “I’ll grab some tea and toast. Don’t move too fast.”

You smiled faintly. “Yes, Mom.”

He paused in the doorway and shot you a sarcastic glare over his shoulder, but there was a tiny, tired smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting cross-legged on the bed, wrapped in the blanket like a burrito while Sebastian returned with two steaming mugs and a plate of toast. He handed you yours without ceremony, but when he sat beside you, his knee pressed gently against yours.

Neither of you said much for a while. The silence was companionable, filled with the occasional clink of ceramic or the rustle of the blanket as you adjusted. Eventually, you set your mug down on his nightstand.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “For all this.”

He looked at you for a long moment before shrugging one shoulder. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “It is to me.”

Sebastian hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly around his own mug. “You don’t need to thank me. I…I know what it’s like to be in a place that doesn’t feel safe. I guess… I wanted to make sure you had at least one night where you didn’t feel like that.”

You looked at him, heart thudding a little too fast. “You didn’t feel safe at home either?”

He looked down, his fingers twitching against the mug. “Not unsafe. Not exactly. Just… out of place. Like a square peg shoved into a round hole. Demetrius always acts like I’m wasting my life because I’m not like Maru. She’s brilliant, driven, the golden kid. And I’m…me.”

There was bitterness in his tone, but it wasn’t sharp. It was familiar. You leaned your shoulder lightly against his, a quiet nudge of shared understanding.

“You’re not wasting anything,” you said. “I think you’re exactly who you’re meant to be.”

Sebastian turned his head slightly, just enough for your eyes to meet. You held the look for a second longer than usual, the air between you too warm, too soft to feel like coincidence.

He broke eye contact first. “...Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat, “we’re not making this into a feelings fest, alright?”

You laughed under your breath. “Sure. No feelings allowed.”

Later that morning, you pulled on your coat and boots while Sebastian got dressed in his usual black hoodie and fingerless gloves. When you stepped out onto the porch, the whole world was covered in a fresh dusting of snow. It sparkled in the sunlight, untouched and pure. Your breath puffed visibly in the air.

“You should probably head back soon,” Sebastian said beside you, nudging your arm gently. “But not before breakfast. Robin made pancakes.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“She makes them every time it snows. Says it’s her excuse to get us all together.”

You followed him inside the main house, the warmth of the kitchen a welcoming contrast to the biting cold. Robin greeted you with a friendly smile, not questioning your presence. Maru was already seated, sipping hot chocolate, and Demetrius gave you a curt nod without saying much.

It was fine. You didn’t need words from him. Not when Robin passed you a plate like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Sebastian took the seat beside you instead of across from you.

Later that afternoon, Sebastian offered to walk you back to your cabin. The snow crunched beneath your boots, and even though your sickness wasn’t completely gone, the cold air felt invigorating now that you weren’t shivering through it.

Halfway down the path, he paused. You stopped too, turning to face him.

“Hey,” he said, glancing off toward the horizon, “I’m glad you came over. Even if it was because you were sick.”

You looked up at him, watching the way the pale light caught the soft edges of his profile. “I’m glad I did, too.”

There was a pause, just long enough for something else to hang between you.

And then, with a quiet chuckle, he added, “Next time, though, let’s try for a movie night without the fever.”

You laughed, soft and warm. “Deal.”

Chapter 22: XXII | Cast Lines and Quiet Company

Winter in Pelican Town was beautiful in that cruel, indifferent sort of way. The snow turned everything soft and quiet, covering the fields, hills, and homes in a blanket of white that made the whole valley feel like it was holding its breath. But beauty didn’t pay for hay, and the silence didn’t keep your goats fed.

Your crops were long gone. Even the soil beneath them had hardened into frostbitten ground, unreachable and unworkable. For someone who’d once found a rhythm in the turning seasons; tilled earth, planted seeds and a reliable harvest, winter was like being tossed into a void. The only option left was fishing. And so, you fished.

Day after day, you trekked to the southern docks, boots crunching through slush, wind biting at your cheeks. You wore every layer you owned, scarf wound tightly around your neck, gloves so thick they made casting awkward. Still, you showed up with your fishing rod and a thermos of lukewarm tea.

You weren’t alone in the valley, but you might as well have been. Most villagers stayed indoors or stuck to brief errands between warm spaces. The world felt smaller now, just you, the icy wind, and the endless ripple of gray waves stretching into the bay.

You stood there now, the edge of the dock creaking gently underfoot, rod in hand. The line bobbed quietly in the water. You hadn’t caught anything in nearly twenty minutes, but you didn’t move. The cold settled in your bones, but the stillness had become a kind of numb comfort.

“Thought I might find you here.”

You didn’t jump at the voice, you recognized it instantly. Sebastian. You glanced over your shoulder to see him approaching, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black hoodie, hood pulled up over his head to shield from the wind. His boots crunched softly over the snow-blanketed dock as he made his way to your side.

“Didn’t expect company,” you said, your voice hoarse from the cold and the quiet.

He gave a small shrug, standing beside you and looking out at the water. “You haven’t been around much. Leah said you’ve been out here every day.”

You nodded once, reeling your line in slowly before casting it out again with a quiet flick of your wrist. “Animals still need feeding. Hay’s expensive. And I can’t grow anything right now.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything right away. He let the silence stretch again, but not in a bad way. Just… thoughtful. The kind that didn’t feel heavy, only present.

“You’ve got that stubborn farmer streak,” he said eventually. “I admire it. Even if it kind of worries me sometimes.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “I’m fine.”

He shot you a sidelong glance. “You’re out here in subzero weather with cracked lips, red hands, and a fishing rod. ‘Fine’ is doing a lot of work in that sentence.”

You didn’t argue. You just focused on the line again, eyes tracing the motion of the water. It was easier to look at that than at him. Because if you did, you might say something you couldn’t take back, like how tired you were. How lonely it was to keep showing up to your life when it felt like the world had stopped moving.

Another long pause.

Then, softly: “You ever feel like… you have to keep moving or you’ll fall apart?”

The question startled you, not because of its content, but because he said it first. You turned your head toward him slightly.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I feel like that all the time.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything. He just nodded slowly, like your answer made sense. Like he knew that feeling too well.

You didn’t have to explain. That was the kind of thing you appreciated about him. He didn’t need every wound opened, inspected, and labeled. He just stood beside you while they bled quietly, without asking why.

“I’ve been writing more,” he said after a while, shifting so his hands were cupped over his mouth for warmth. “Mostly stuff for my campaign. Some of it’s good. Some of it’s trash.”

“I’m sure it’s good,” you said, casting again. “You’re good at creating things. I mean… I’ve seen the way you build your worlds.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Thanks. I guess I’ve been using it to stay sane lately.”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah. Fishing’s been that for me.”

“Ironic, considering how boring it is.”

“Painfully boring,” you agreed. “But it works.”

The wind blew harder for a second, and you shivered visibly despite the layers. Sebastian glanced over, then tugged off one of his gloves.

“Come here,” he muttered.

You gave him a look, brows raised.

He held up one of those pocket warmers you’d seen in the general store, already activated and giving off gentle heat. You reached for it, but instead of handing it over, he took your gloved hand in his bare one and placed the warmer between your palms, cupping his hands around yours.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice soft. “Just let me do this for a minute.”

You didn’t argue. Your heart beat a little faster, but you didn’t pull away. You let the warmth seep between your fingers and the awkward, unspoken gesture settle between you both like a truce.

He didn’t say anything sappy. Didn’t call it sweet. But he didn’t move either. And for once, the cold didn’t feel so impossible.

After a while, you pulled your hand away gently, flexing your fingers with a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

The sun began to dip lower, casting long, amber streaks over the water. You reeled in your line again and set the rod beside the dock post, then leaned back slightly, bracing your palms behind you.

“You ever feel like this place asks for too much?” you asked quietly.

Sebastian sat down beside you, legs dangling over the edge of the dock, hands in his lap. “Yeah. But then it gives something back when you least expect it.”

You turned to look at him, eyes catching the way the light hit his lashes. “Like what?”

“Like… peace. A friend. A reason to get out of bed.” He shrugged again, casual and understated. “Not every day. But some days. The ones that matter.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the cold forgotten for just a second. “You’re getting sappy again.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, cheeks a little pink, not just from the cold, you were sure.

You leaned your shoulder gently against his. He didn’t pull away.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, side by side, as the sky shifted to shades of lavender and gold. The kind of evening that made you believe, even for a moment, that the cold would pass. That spring would come again.

────୨ৎ────

The Festival of Ice arrived a few days later, painting Cindersap Forest in glittering whites and crystalline blues. Trees stood like frozen statues, every branch sheathed in glassy frost. Torches lined the path from town, flickering against the snowbanks and leading the way toward a clearing where townsfolk had already gathered.

You arrived bundled in your thickest coat, scarf pulled up to your nose. Leah was waiting near the entrance, waving you over with a mittened hand, cheeks pink from the cold.

“There you are!” she called. “I was starting to think the snow swallowed you up.”

“I almost didn’t come,” you admitted, adjusting your scarf. “I’ve been so tired lately.”

“Then it’s even better that you’re here,” Haley’s voice chimed in from behind Leah. She stepped forward in a soft white coat with fluffy fur lining, her blonde hair tucked into a knit beanie. “You need a break. One afternoon won’t hurt your animals.”

You gave a sheepish shrug. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

The festival was already in full swing, Willy and Elliott stood by the frozen river discussing fish migration patterns (or arguing about them, based on the wild gestures), Linus observed the sculptors with quiet reverence, and Mayor Lewis was loudly announcing the impending ice fishing competition to anyone who would listen.

But you weren’t really interested in any of that. Right now, you just wanted to be around your friends, breathe in the cold air without worrying about gold or goats or frozen water troughs.

The three of you wandered toward the rows of ice sculptures, each one more intricate than the last. A rearing horse. A pair of swans. A spiraling dragon that shimmered with perfectly carved scales.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmured, brushing your gloved hand near the dragon’s icy wing but stopping short of touching it.

Leah nodded, eyes thoughtful. “Makes me want to try sculpting with ice. Bet it’s unforgiving, though. One wrong chip…”

“Still,” Haley said, snapping a quick photo of the swans with her camera, “it’s romantic. Like… if someone carved one for you? Imagine.”

Leah raised a brow. “You expecting someone to surprise you with a ten-foot-tall ice statue, Haley?”

Haley snorted. “I’d settle for a six-footer. With a good jawline.”

You laughed, the sound light in your chest. But before you could reply, a familiar voice called out.

“Hey.”

You turned to see Sebastian walking toward your trio, hands shoved deep into his pockets, dark hoodie visible beneath a long, charcoal coat. His breath puffed in front of him in soft clouds.

“Wasn’t sure if you were coming,” you said, surprised but… not unhappy.

He shrugged slightly. “Sam and Abigail are still caught up in that snowball fight with Vincent and Jas. Figured I’d come find the grownups.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And then came to us?”

He smirked. “Exactly.”

Haley gave you a sideways look so quick it might have been missed by anyone else, but not you. Leah’s lips twitched the same way.

“Oh, hey Sebastian,” Leah said with a too-sweet smile. “Didn’t expect you to come join us .”

He gave a little shrug. “Figured I’d see what the art crowd thought of all the sculptures.”

“We’re flattered,” Leah said, clearly trying not to grin. She looked between you and Sebastian and then nudged Haley with her elbow, subtle but not that subtle.

“Wow, look at that one!” Haley pointed toward an ice sculpture shaped like a pair of intertwined wolves, all teeth and elegance. “That must’ve taken hours.”

As you admired it, you felt Leah lean closer and whisper under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear, “He’s here for you, you know.”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “He’s just being friendly.”

Haley, not to be left out, added in a low singsong, “Uh-huh. Sure. Just friendly enough to abandon his friends and crash our girls-only hangout.”

“Don’t you have a snowball fight to join?” you muttered, half-choking on your embarrassment.

But they only giggled, linking arms with you on either side and pulling you toward the next sculpture. Sebastian trailed behind, hands in his pockets again, entirely unaware, or perfectly pretending not to be.

You walked a little slower than the others, your shoulder brushing his every so often. He glanced sideways at you, then back ahead.

“Glad you’re here,” he said quietly, so only you could hear.

You smiled down at the snow crunching beneath your boots. “Yeah. Me too.”

A little while later, as the sky shifted into icy pink and the sun dipped low over the snow-glazed trees, the group gathered around the river for the traditional ice fishing contest. Mayor Lewis bellowed directions and waved flags around, while Marnie passed out hot chocolate in paper cups.

You opted not to compete this year. For once, it felt good to just watch. You stood near the edge of the river, sipping cocoa that burned your tongue and letting yourself relax.

Sebastian stood beside you again, hands still in his coat pockets, shoulders slightly slouched. “You know, we could just start a fishing club. You and me.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “I think I hit my lifetime fishing quota this month.”

He smirked. “Fine. A non-fishing club. A standing-near-rivers-and-freezing club.”

“That one I’d consider.”

And beside you, Leah and Haley were only barely suppressing their knowing smiles.

Chapter 23: XXIII | Snowfall and Silence

The afternoon sun filtered weakly through a veil of snow-heavy clouds, casting your farm in a quiet, pale glow. Winter had settled into every corner of Pelican Town, softening the edges of fences, blanketing the trees, and muffling even the crunch of your boots as you walked from the barn to the porch.

Despite the cold, the day had a calm to it, a peacefulness you hadn’t felt in a while. Your animals had been tended to earlier that morning, their stalls cleaned and their feeders stocked, and for once, you didn’t have to sprint back inside to thaw your fingers. The fire inside your cabin had been stoked to a steady warmth, and a familiar mug of hot chocolate steamed gently in your hands.

Sebastian had texted you late that morning with a short, casual:
"Hey. You around today?"

And now, here he was, boots tracking snow across your porch, cheeks red from the cold. He knocked once, then let himself in before you could answer, shaking snow from his hoodie and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Smells good,” he said, nodding toward the table. You’d already set up a tray with a thermos of more hot chocolate and a plate of snacks, mostly cookies and crackers. Nothing fancy. Just warm and easy.

“It’s cold out there,” you replied, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Figured you might want something to warm up with.”

He kicked off his boots and walked into the living room, eyeing the little setup you’d made on the couch with a quiet kind of amusement. “You’re spoiling me.”

You handed him a mug, and he took it with a grateful hum, sitting down beside you on the couch and tucking one leg under himself. “You’re not gonna make me help you fish or chop wood today?”

“Not today,” you said with a laugh. “You’re off the hook.”

He groaned softly. “Thank god.”

You both sipped in silence for a while, your mugs warming your hands, the fire crackling in the hearth. The snow continued to drift down outside the window in thick, lazy flakes. You felt it more than saw it, that familiar shift when the quiet between you stopped being awkward and started to feel... comforting.

You leaned back against the couch, the blanket pooling around your shoulders, and after a moment, you let yourself tilt slightly toward him. Not enough to make it obvious. Just enough that your shoulder brushed his.

He didn’t move away.

Instead, Sebastian let out a breath through his nose and gently draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in just a little closer. The motion was fluid, easy, like it wasn’t something he had to think twice about. Like it had already become second nature to him.

You rested your head lightly against his side, the soft fabric of his hoodie cool at first, then warm as his body heat seeped through. He didn’t say anything, just leaned back with you like this happened every day.

For a while, neither of you said a word. The world outside continued in its quiet winter rhythm, untouched. The only sounds were the pop of the firewood, the clink of mugs on ceramic, and the occasional content sigh from Sebastian.

Then he spoke, voice low and thoughtful. “You know… your farm’s kind of the perfect place to hide from everything.”

You smiled, your fingers tightening slightly around your mug. “That’s what I was hoping when I moved here.”

He glanced down at you, his eyes catching on your profile. “You’ve made something good here. Cozy. Peaceful.”

You tilted your head just enough to look at him. “You’re part of that, you know.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You help make it feel like that. Like I’m not doing it all alone.”

Sebastian looked at you for a long second, just looked, eyes soft in a way that made your chest flutter. Then he turned his gaze back toward the fire, his voice quiet. “That’s... kind of nice to hear.”

You both went quiet again, and that quiet said more than words.

After a while, you placed your mug down on the coffee table and tucked your legs up onto the couch, pulling the blanket over both of you. Sebastian didn’t move away, he shifted slightly, making room for you against him, his hand resting lightly at your side beneath the blanket. His thumb brushed in gentle, absent circles over the fabric.

And maybe it was just the warmth, or the snowfall, or the soft way his breathing matched yours, but something in your chest loosened.

You let your eyes close, not fully asleep, but resting, listening to the hush of winter and the beat of a heart beside yours.

Sebastian's voice came again, softer this time. “Next time we hang out... we should do this again. Just... no fishing. No snow. Just snacks and blankets.”

You smiled against his shoulder. “You planning our second date already?”

He paused. “...That was a joke, right?”

You peeked up at him, grinning. “Was it?”

Sebastian flushed, clearly not expecting that kind of boldness, but he didn’t pull away. His arm only tightened slightly around your shoulder.

“Maybe it was,” he said at last, smirking faintly. “But if it wasn’t... I wouldn’t mind.”

Neither of you said anything after that.

You didn’t need to.

The snow kept falling, the fire kept burning, and for one soft, simple afternoon, the world outside could wait.

 

Chapter 24: XXIV | Feast of the Winter Star

Fresh snow clung to the rooftops and tree branches like icing sugar, and warm light spilled from the windows of Pelican Town's buildings, flickering across the white-blanketed ground. You could hear music drifting from the town center before you even arrived; soft, merry chords that lifted into the cold air and made your breath hitch a little in your chest.

The Feast of the Winter Star was in full swing.

By the time you stepped into the square, everything had transformed. Twinkling lights wrapped around lampposts and fences. Big, cheerful garlands hung overhead, and the tables were covered with food; piles of cookies, steaming casseroles, and mugs of hot cider. Villagers milled about in coats and scarves, cheeks red with cold, voices warm with laughter.

You took a deep breath. Cinnamon. Pine. Woodsmoke.

And for the first time in days, the tightness in your shoulders eased.

“Hey!” Haley’s voice called from near the food table. She waved you over with a mittened hand, her pink coat dusted with snow. Leah stood beside her with a half-eaten ginger cookie in one hand, already deep in conversation with Emily about handmade ornaments.

You walked over, tucking your gloved hands in your pockets. “Wow, they really go all out.”

“They do,” Haley said, eyes sparkling. “It’s kind of the only time everyone shows up without an excuse.”

“Except for Shane,” Leah added with a small grin, “who I caught sneaking extra cookies when Marnie wasn’t looking.”

You laughed softly, letting the cheerfulness around you soak into your skin. You’d almost forgotten what it felt like, being surrounded by community, warmth, and familiar faces. After a long, cold season of solitude and early mornings, it felt like a balm.

“Don’t forget,” Leah nudged you with her elbow, “secret gift exchange is coming up.”

Your stomach fluttered.

Right. The secret gift.

You hadn’t told anyone, not even Leah or Haley, but the name you’d drawn this year had been Sam. It surprised you at first. You didn’t know him as well as some of the others, but you'd watched him enough to pick up on his love for flashy things and cool colors. It took you a few days, and a quiet chat with Clint to confirm, but eventually, you settled on a polished tiger’s eye stone. Deep amber and gold, smooth as glass and warm to the touch. You’d even wrapped it yourself, with brown paper and a bit of twine.

Your hand brushed the shape of it now in your coat pocket.

Across the square, you spotted him, Sam was chatting with Sebastian and Vincent near the tree, his blond hair tousled, scarf hanging loosely around his neck as he gestured animatedly about something that had Vincent giggling. Sebastian looked mildly amused, as usual, but his eyes briefly flicked across the square.

To you.

He gave the smallest nod, barely noticeable, but his mouth quirked just slightly at the corner.

You smiled to yourself, warmth blooming beneath your coat even in the cold.

Mayor Lewis clapped his hands at the center of the square, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone! It’s time for the secret gift exchange!”

You weren’t ready.

Not emotionally, anyway. Your hands were already fumbling in your pocket as you made your way toward the crowd, heart thudding faster than it had any right to.

The townspeople began to pair off, murmuring, laughing, passing small boxes and colorful bags. You watched as Jas handed Penny a tiny pink scarf, and George grunted while Evelyn gave him a knitted hat.

“Hey!”

You turned just in time to see Sam step toward you, his grin bright, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. His breath came out in little clouds, and for a moment he just smiled at you, like he didn’t mind waiting.

“Guess what?” he said, rocking on his heels. “You got me.”

You blinked. “You already know?”

“Well,” he shrugged, “you’re walking right toward me, and you're holding something in your pocket like it’s going to explode.”

You laughed, heart still fluttering, and finally pulled out the wrapped tiger’s eye.

“I, uh... I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” you said. “But I thought this was cool. It reminded me of your hair, kind of. And your guitar pick colors.”

He took it from your outstretched hand, his eyes lighting up as he turned it over. “Whoa. This is... actually awesome.”

His fingers ran over the stone’s polished surface with reverence. “Tiger’s eye? Dude, this is sick. Where’d you even find something like this?”

“I had Clint help me polish it,” you admitted. “It was just sitting in my mining chest.”

“You made this look like something from a comic book treasure vault,” Sam said with a grin. “Thank you. Seriously. This is... really thoughtful.”

And just as he said that, just as you opened your mouth to respond-

A familiar presence appeared beside you.

Sebastian.

Hands shoved in his coat pockets, scarf pulled up over his mouth, dark eyes watching you both. “Hey,” he said, voice muffled but unmistakable.

Sam, thankfully oblivious to anything beneath the surface, elbowed him. “Check it out, Seb. This is what I got.”

Sebastian glanced at the tiger’s eye in Sam’s hand and then, just briefly, at you.

His eyes crinkled faintly above the scarf.

Haley and Leah appeared behind you a moment later, whispering and grinning like they knew exactly what they were walking into. Leah bumped your shoulder gently with hers. “Wow. You even wrapped it.”

Haley smirked. “So... who are you giving a gift to next year? Just asking for a friend.”

You shot them both a look, but it was hard to keep the smile off your face.

Snow began to fall again, lightly this time, catching in your hair and melting on your sleeves.

The crowd began to shift as people finished exchanging gifts and wandered back toward the food and games. Laughter bubbled in pockets around the town square, the kind that floated through the crisp winter air and lingered like smoke from the chimneys.

You found yourself drifting toward the edge of the square, hands tucked in your coat pockets, boots crunching gently in the snow. The fairy lights above glowed warm and golden, their reflections dancing faintly on the snowy ground.

A few steps behind, Sebastian caught up to you.

“Nice gift,” he said, nodding toward where Sam was still admiring the tiger’s eye you’d given him.

You glanced over your shoulder and smiled. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if he’d like it, honestly.”

“He does,” Sebastian said, his voice low, thoughtful. “He hasn’t shut up about shiny things since we were kids. You nailed it.”

You shrugged modestly, but warmth crept up your neck.

Sebastian walked beside you without speaking for a moment. You didn’t mind. His presence, quiet and steady, had always felt calming in a way you hadn’t realized you needed until recently.

Then, from the other side of the square, you heard Emily’s bright voice: “There you are!”

You turned to see her approaching with a colorful, gift-wrapped box tucked under one arm and a beaming grin on her face. “You didn’t think I’d forget about you, did you? Secret Santa rules and all.”

You laughed. “I figured you might’ve been too busy dazzling the town with those star cookies.”

Emily handed you the box with a wink. “Open it now. Go on!”

You peeled back the vibrant wrapping to reveal a carefully folded outfit: a deep plum blouse with golden embroidery, matched with a soft black skirt and cozy-looking leggings. Touches of green vine patterns lined the collar and sleeves; simple, elegant, and undeniably you .

“I made it with spring in mind,” Emily said, watching your reaction closely. “I wanted something that could keep you warm in those chilly early mornings, but still make you feel like yourself. Plus-” she twirled a bit dramatically “-that embroidery took me hours.”

You ran your fingers over the fabric, heart full. “It’s perfect. Seriously, Emily, thank you.”

Sebastian leaned over slightly to get a better look. “That’s... actually really cool. You made all of this?”

Emily beamed. “Of course I did! I don’t mess around when it comes to stitching. The way I see it, clothes should make people feel strong and unique, like an extension of who they are.”

You couldn’t help but glance down at the outfit again, imagining how it would feel on a crisp spring morning, wind in your hair, hoe slung over your shoulder, ready to rebuild your fields.

Sebastian gave a low whistle. “You’re going to make the rest of us look like background characters.”

You shot him a mock glare. “What, and you think you’re the protagonist?”

He smirked. “Only when you’re not around.”

That caught you off guard,  in a good way. You looked at him, eyebrows raised, and he just shrugged slightly, lips twitching like he knew exactly what he’d said.

Emily cleared her throat with a very unsubtle grin. “Well, I’ll leave you two to your story arc. I’ve got to check on Gus before he gives Jas three more mugs of cider.”

She left you with a quick hug and a wink, disappearing into the happy bustle.

The moment settled again between you and Sebastian, soft and quiet. Snowflakes drifted lazily past the string lights, melting on your sleeves and his dark hair.

“Emily’s right, though,” he said after a pause. “About clothes. They do say something.”

You looked at him curiously. “What do yours say?”

He shrugged. “That I like to be left alone and haven’t done laundry in a week.”

You laughed, and he smiled again, slightly more relaxed this time. “But yours,” he continued, voice dipping just a little lower, “always make you look like you don’t care what anyone thinks. In a good way. It suits you.”

Your breath caught, briefly, but you recovered fast enough to shoot back, “Was that a compliment, Sebastian?”

He looked away like he was suddenly very interested in the snow at his feet. “Don’t get used to it.”

But you saw the faint smile tugging at his mouth.

And as you both stood there, side by side with lantern light glowing against the fresh snow, you realized that this, this warmth, this quiet closeness, was its own kind of holiday magic.

No pressure. No expectations.

 

Chapter 25: XXV | Turn of the new Season

You woke to the sound of birdsong and sunlight streaming through your bedroom window, the real kind, not the pale imitation filtered through frost and cloud. The air smelled different. Fresher. Alive.

Spring had arrived.

You practically bolted out of bed, tugging on a light sweater over your tank top and jeans before throwing open the farmhouse door. The scent of thawing earth and budding grass hit you all at once. Your fields stretched out in front of you, snow-free for the first time in weeks, the soil dark and soft. You knew it would take work; tilling, planting and hauling, but your hands were already itching to get started.

By noon, you’d cleared a few patches, your back warm with sweat and your heart light with purpose. The farm, once quiet under its blanket of snow, now buzzed with subtle life. You'd already released the animals into the pasture, the goats prancing about while your chickens clucked as they pecked eagerly at the ground.

You paused to stretch, wiping your forehead with your sleeve, when a familiar voice called out from the path.

"Back at it already?" Leah asked with a grin, waving as she approached with Haley beside her.

You smiled wide. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Haley’s eyes sparkled as she looked around. “It’s like the farm woke up with you.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, kicking at a patch of grass fondly, “we’ve both been a little stir-crazy.”

The three of you sat for a moment beneath the tree near your coop, sipping lemonade Leah had brought in a thermos and catching up. They told you about the plans for the spring flower dance, the local art show Leah wanted to host, and Haley’s new idea for a seasonal fashion photo series featuring Pelican Town locals, voluntary, of course, though you definitely heard the subtext aimed at you.

"Speaking of," Haley nudged you, "you have to wear that outfit Emily gave you soon. Maybe on the next sunny day.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “You’re just trying to get me in front of your camera.”

She batted her lashes, unashamed. “Obviously.”

Not long after, you heard the low hum of voices and turned to see Sebastian and Sam heading your way, hands in their pockets, shoulders slouched in that casual way only they could pull off. Sebastian gave a lazy half-wave. Sam grinned.

“Hope we’re not crashing anything,” Sam said.

“Just girl talk,” Haley replied with mock seriousness.

“Oh no,” Sebastian deadpanned. “Our greatest weakness.”

You scooted over on the grass, and Sebastian sat beside you without hesitation, his knee brushing against yours in a way that felt easy. Familiar. He didn’t move it.

Sam flopped onto his back, arms spread. “I forgot what the sun felt like. I thought I’d turn to dust the moment it touched me.”

“Same,” you said. “Glad you two made it out of the bat cave.”

Sebastian smirked. “Yeah, well. Some things are worth getting sunburned for.”

Your eyes met his. His gaze lingered a heartbeat too long. You felt the warmth creep into your cheeks, nothing to do with the sun.

Conversation flowed as the five of you lounged beneath the now-budding trees. It felt... easy. A kind of natural balance between everyone, laughing at Sam’s terrible impressions, Haley teasing you every time Sebastian so much as looked your way, Leah asking thoughtful questions about your planting plans for the season.

Somewhere in the middle of a joke about slimes invading Cindersap Forest, Sam let out a thoughtful hum.

“Y’know,” he said, “this is kind of nice. Just us.”

Leah smiled. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Haley leaned back on her elbows. “It’s like... we’re our own little group now.”

There was a beat of silence, comfortable, but contemplative. Then Sebastian added, in his usual quiet tone, “It’s been kind of a relief, honestly.”

You glanced at him. He didn’t elaborate immediately, but you didn’t have to ask. You’d noticed it over the past few weeks. The space forming between him, Sam, and Abigail. It hadn’t been dramatic, but it hadn’t been subtle either.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Abby’s been... a lot lately.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything at first. Then: “She’s not handling change very well.”

You didn’t press, but you knew what he meant. Abigail’s jealousy, especially toward you, had been simmering just below the surface since the Fall Festival, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“She’ll come around,” Sam added, though even he didn’t sound fully convinced. “But for now, I kinda like this.”

He gestured lazily at the group around him. At you .

“Same here,” you said softly.

Sebastian tilted his head toward you slightly, and though he didn’t say anything, the corner of his mouth lifted into that rare, crooked smile that always made your chest do something ridiculous.

You all spent the rest of the afternoon there; sipping lemonade, trading stories, planning the season ahead. No drama. No pressure. Just sunlight and good company, the scent of fresh earth in the air and the sound of laughter carried by the breeze.

────୨ৎ────

The afternoon sun filtered gently through the trees, casting warm shadows across the grass where the five of you lounged. It was the kind of moment that didn't need anything else, just the soft murmur of conversation, the occasional breeze carrying the scent of fresh soil and budding flowers, and the feeling that somehow, the pieces had all clicked into place.

“I think we should make this a thing,” Leah said, sitting cross-legged with her sketchbook open on her lap. “Weekly hangouts. Farm field picnics.”

“Picnics?” Sam perked up. “Can I bring chips and nothing else and still call it a contribution?”

Leah smirked. “As long as you don’t bring slime jerky again.”

“That was one time!” Sam protested, laughing.

Haley rolled her eyes dramatically from where she lay with her head in Leah’s lap, her fingers absentmindedly toying with a loose thread on Leah’s jeans. “Once was already a crime.”

You caught the look Leah gave her, a subtle one, soft around the edges, and the way Haley smiled without even looking up. It wasn’t loud or flashy, but the quiet tenderness between them felt obvious now that you were seeing it.

Your smile grew, warmed by more than just the spring sun.

“I’ll bring real food,” you offered. “If I’m doing all this farming, someone has to benefit from it.”

“I’ll bring coffee,” Sebastian added from beside you, voice low. “To survive the conversation.”

You leaned slightly toward him with a grin. “You say that like you’re not enjoying yourself.”

He turned his head to look at you fully, that familiar curtain of dark hair slipping out of place. His eyes lingered on your face, and there was something in his expression, subtle but unmistakably fond.

“…Maybe I am,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

Your stomach flipped, but you kept your expression even. “I’ll believe that when I see you smiling through one of Sam’s rants about Joja-brand energy drinks.”

“Hey!” Sam said, feigning offense. “Those rants are informative. And heartfelt.”

“You nearly broke a table yelling about the lack of transparency in their sugar sourcing,” Haley mumbled.

Leah chuckled. “At least he’s passionate.”

Sebastian shrugged, not looking away from you. “I guess I’m passionate too, just about different things.”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

There was a beat. Then, without looking away, he answered, “Right now? Good company. Quiet afternoons. And…” He paused, almost as if he debated saying the next part. “The farmer sitting next to me.”

Your breath caught, but before you could recover, Sam groaned loudly. “Ugh, too smooth. Tone it down, Seb.”

Haley snorted. “I knew this would happen.”

Leah smiled softly, her gaze flicking between you and Sebastian with something suspiciously like satisfaction.

Sebastian didn’t even look flustered. He just leaned back on his elbows, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as if he hadn’t just sent your heart somersaulting into your throat.

You tried to play it cool, looking back out at your fields. “If I pass out, it’s from heatstroke. Not flirting.”

“I’ll make sure you land on the soft grass,” he said.

Haley glanced at Leah. “We might be witnessing the start of something dramatic.”

“Or adorable,” Leah replied, resting a hand lightly on Haley’s knee.

Sam pretended to gag. “If everyone starts dating each other, I’m just saying, I get the farm dog in the breakup.”

“You mean Dusty?” you asked, amused.

“Exactly.”

Laughter rippled through the group, warm and full. It was ridiculous, yes, but it was also something more. You felt the threads of connection tightening between all of you. No longer a collection of individual friendships. A unit. A little found family forming under the warming sun.

As the sun began to dip lower toward the mountains, casting the valley in golden light, you leaned back, your shoulder brushing against Sebastian’s again. This time, he didn’t wait. His arm slipped behind your back, not quite around you, but close enough that if you shifted just a little, you’d be nestled there completely.

You didn’t move away.

The others were still talking, teasing, laughing. But in that moment, with his quiet presence beside you and the rich scent of the thawing soil rising in the air, everything felt… good.

Not perfect. Not without its complications.

But right.

And spring was only just beginning.

Chapter 26: XXVI | Under the Blossoming Sky

The world had softened again.

Spring had barely begun, but already your fields were alive with promise. Buds nudged their way through the soil like sleepy things waking from a long dream. You’d spent the morning checking your crops, coaxing your soil into shape, making mental notes of which sprinkler systems to replace and which seed packets you were still missing. The work left dirt under your nails and a pleasant ache in your arms, but it also filled you with that old, familiar sense of hope.

Now, in the warm, golden lull of early afternoon, you were tucked away in the shaded nook near the pond at the edge of your farm. The spot had become a quiet sanctuary for yo, especially lately, since Sebastian had started gravitating here with you more often. Today, he’d shown up with no explanation, just a soft, “Hey,” and a coffee in his hand.

You didn’t need an explanation.

Sebastian was lying on his back beside you now, one arm tucked under his head, the other idly scratching a blade of grass between his fingers. His boots were off, socks poking through the ends of his jeans. You'd kicked yours off too, and your toes dug lazily into the cool earth.

You reached over and plucked a daisy from the grass, twirling it between your fingers before leaning toward him.

“I have a gift,” you murmured.

He cracked one eye open. “You’re not about to feed me a flower, are you?”

“Tempting,” you replied, then tucked it gently behind his ear. “But no. Just thought you needed a bit more spring in your… well, everything.”

He blinked at you, unimpressed but not removing the flower. “You’re a menace.”

You grinned. “You’re prettier than all my crops combined.”

He stared at you flatly, though his lips were already twitching. “That might be the corniest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Wow,” you said, clutching your chest in mock offense. “That’s gratitude for you. I compare you to nature’s bounty and you insult me.”

Sebastian chuckled, low and warm. “You sound like one of those Joja-sponsored dating sims. ‘Compliment received. Relationship points +25.’”

You nodded solemnly. “Good. Because I’ve been putting in serious grind time on this romance route.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he shifted to prop himself up on his elbow.

“Mmhmm. I’ve given you like… four coffees, two frozen tears, and a morally questionable mushroom I found behind your house.”

“Ah, the real secret to a man’s heart,” he said, smirking. “Caffeine and suspicious fungi.”

You leaned back on your hands beside him, face tilted toward the sun. “I was just playing to my strengths.”

There was a brief silence between you, but not an awkward one. A comfortable pause, the kind that fills itself with birdsong and wind in the trees.

“You’re good at that,” he said after a while, voice quieter.

You turned your head. “At flirting?”

He smirked. “At knowing how to make people feel… safe. I used to come out here to get away from everything. But lately it feels more like I come here to be close to something.”

You felt your heart trip over itself.

“Something?” you echoed, voice suddenly gentler.

His eyes met yours, dark and steady. “Someone.”

You stared at him, momentarily struck speechless. Then, in an effort to preserve your dignity, you smirked and said, “You know, you’re not so bad at the romance route yourself.”

He laughed again; real, soft, amused. “Just making sure I’m keeping up.”

Sebastian stretched, lying back fully again, and you followed suit, your shoulders brushing. After a moment, he shifted slightly, and suddenly his arm was around your shoulders, casual but intentional. You let yourself lean into him, head resting lightly against his hoodie.

“You’re really not pulling away,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“Should I?”

You shook your head slowly. “No.”

“Good.”

For a while, the two of you just stayed like that, saying nothing. Every so often, you felt his thumb trace lazy shapes into your arm. The sun began its slow descent, casting golden ribbons of light across the pond. Bees buzzed low over the grass. Somewhere far off, the town was alive with movement and conversation, but here, in this little bubble, there was only the sound of your heart beating next to his.

“Hey,” you murmured, voice soft. “What do you think it would be like… if you ever moved out here? Full time?”

Sebastian didn’t respond immediately. He took in a slow breath.

“Less lonely,” he said.

You turned your face toward him. “For you?”

“For both of us.”

You smiled, small and secret.

Then: “Okay, serious question.”

Sebastian glanced at you sideways. “Should I be worried?”

“If I stole your hoodie, would you actually try to get it back?”

He laughed through his nose, shaking his head. “No. You’d probably look better in it anyway.”

“I do have a great aesthetic.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice almost fond. “You really do.”

You didn’t kiss. Not yet.

But when you laced your fingers with his again, he squeezed your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Chapter 27: XXVII | Closer Than Before

The air smelled like tilled soil and new beginnings.

You’d been up since sunrise, coaxing the first real spring bloom out of your garden beds and prepping the southern field for seasonal crops. There was something deeply satisfying about the repetition; watering, hoeing and checking on the animals, but even your stubborn work ethic had its limits. Around midmorning, you realized that hauling a whole barrel of fertilizer across the field solo was the kind of bad idea that would leave you with a sore back for three days straight.

Luckily, you didn’t have to struggle for long.

“I think that barrel’s winning,” came a dry voice from behind you.

You turned to find Sebastian at the gate, sleeves already rolled up, hair tousled from the wind, his motorcycle jacket swapped for a black hoodie that looked well-worn and familiar. He didn’t wait for you to respond, just walked straight over, lifted the barrel with relative ease, and gave you the faintest smirk.

“You gonna tell me what’s in this thing? Lead?”

You grinned. “Spring magic. And maybe some compost.”

“Ah. Romantic,” he deadpanned.

You spent the rest of the morning working side by side. Sebastian wasn’t exactly a seasoned farmer, he planted a batch of cauliflower sideways, for starters, but he listened when you gave him tips and didn’t complain once when he got muddy. You’d never seen him quite like this: focused, a little awkward, but clearly trying. Every now and then, his hand would brush yours when you passed tools or seeds, and your stomach would do that slow, fluttery roll that felt equal parts thrilling and dangerous.

By noon, you were both sprawled in the grass beside your coop, arms outstretched and legs tangled, sweaty and exhausted and beaming.

“This is harder than dungeon crawling,” he muttered, eyes closed.

“You’ve never even made it past floor twenty in the mines,” you teased.

“Exactly,” he replied without missing a beat. “I know my limits.”

You bumped your shoulder against his. “You did good. For a goth boy turned dirt gremlin.”

“High praise,” he said, eyes opening just enough to glance your way. “You always this nice to people who flirt with you while digging in the mud?”

You shot him a sly look. “Only if they’re cute.”

He went very still for half a beat. Then he smiled, really smiled, and let his arm fall casually behind you in the grass, fingers brushing your back. Your heart thudded loud enough to rival a thunderclap.

Before you could say something else probably dumb and flirtatious, a familiar voice rang across the farm.

“Ohhh my GOD.”

You both shot upright just in time to see Haley, Leah, and Sam strolling toward you, picnic basket in hand and all three of them staring like they’d stumbled across a scandalous secret.

“Well, this is cozy,” Leah said with a grin, taking in the scene with delighted eyes.

“Were you two napping in the dirt together?” Haley asked, brows raised, clearly delighted. “That’s so disgustingly domestic.”

Sebastian blinked like he’d been caught mid-crime. “We were… working.”

“In the dirt?” Sam said, grinning ear to ear. “Looked like flirting to me.”

“I-” Sebastian started.

You cut in, smirking. “Don’t worry. He’s just trying to romance his way to five hearts.”

Leah choked on her laugh. “Is that what’s happening here? Should we start planning the wedding?”

“Please don’t,” Sebastian muttered, tugging his hood up to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks.

Haley set down the picnic basket. “Too late. I’ve already imagined the outfits. You’re gonna look so good in forest green.”

“You’re all terrible,” Sebastian said, but didn’t move away when you leaned lightly against his side again, grinning like a fool.

You all ate lunch together in the orchard behind your barn, cross-legged in the sun, swapping stories and joking about whose turn it was to host game night next. Leah’s fingers kept brushing against Haley’s when they reached for the same piece of fruit, and you noticed the way they leaned into each other; comfortable, subtle, soft.

It felt good, being here. All of it. The laughter. The teasing. The quiet, growing warmth of something unspoken between you and Sebastian.

Later, when the group started packing up, Sebastian lingered.

“You know,” he said quietly, after the others had disappeared down the path, “I never really thought I’d end up liking the whole ‘being around people’ thing.”

You tilted your head, smiling. “That so?”

He reached for your hand, tentative, then curled his fingers around yours with an almost shy squeeze.

“Yeah,” he said. “But I think I’m starting to get it.”

────୨ৎ────

The group had long gone by the time the sun started dipping behind the hills. You and Sebastian were still sitting by the edge of the orchard, finishing off the last bits of fruit from Haley’s overstuffed basket, letting the quiet stretch between you like a comfortable blanket.

Sebastian glanced at the sky and exhaled. “It’s getting late. I should probably start heading-”

“Stay,” you said, a little too fast.

He blinked at you.

You laughed, suddenly bashful. “I mean, it’s not that late. And you helped out a ton today. You’ve earned a hot meal and somewhere warm to crash.”

He hesitated for half a second, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Alright. If you’re sure.”

“Sebastian,” you said with a smirk, standing and dusting off your jeans, “if I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have asked.”

You headed back to the cabin together just as dusk began to settle, stars already flickering to life overhead. Inside, the warmth welcomed you both; soft lamp light, the smell of the stew you’d set in the crock pot earlier, the faint creak of wood as the cabin settled into night.

You handed him a bowl, your fingers brushing again on purpose this time. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Thanks, farmer,” he said, his voice low and fond. “Can’t believe I let myself get roped into manual labor and still got rewarded.”

“Consider it a bribe to keep coming back.”

He gave you a look, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Dangerous game you’re playing.”

You shrugged, biting back a smile. “I like danger.”

After dinner, the two of you curled up on the couch together, wrapped in a thick wool blanket. You’d lit the fire while he washed the bowls; he’d insisted, in that quiet but determined way of his, and now the whole cabin was bathed in flickering amber light.

You stretched out with a mug of hot tea in your hands, leaning back into the cushions, and let your shoulder settle lightly against his.

Sebastian didn’t move away. In fact, he shifted closer. His arm slowly slid behind you, tentative at first… then settled around your shoulders like it belonged there. His hoodie smelled faintly of smoke and pine sap and something that was just him .

“Comfy?” he murmured.

“Very.”

You turned your face slightly, cheek brushing against his chest, and sighed. He felt warm, solid, like the safe kind of gravity.

He tilted his head until it rested lightly against yours. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

You smirked. “Is it the flirting or the farming?”

“Both. You’ve got me thinking this… whole thing doesn’t have to be temporary.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him. There was no teasing in his eyes this time, just quiet honesty and a flicker of something deeper. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to.

Instead, you reached down and pulled the blanket up over both of you.

At some point during the quiet, your eyes fluttered shut. The fire crackled softly. Outside, the frogs had started their evening chorus. And beside you, Sebastian’s breathing evened out; slow, warm, steady.

He’d fallen asleep with one arm still draped around your waist, his cheek now pressed against the top of your head.

You didn’t move.

You just listened to the rhythm of him, the rhythm of spring, and let the moment stretch on forever.

 

Chapter 28: XXVIII | The Flower Dance

Spring had come and gone in a blur of soil-stained fingers and laughter echoing across your farm. Seeds bloomed into life. Trees stretched leafy arms toward the sun. And with each passing day, you and Sebastian grew closer in a way that felt both inevitable and impossible to fully grasp.

By the time the day of the Flower Dance arrived, you were used to seeing him around your farm almost daily, whether helping you patch fencing or simply loitering on your porch with coffee and that easy half-smile. But today, there was something different in the air.

The meadow in Cindersap Forest was a riot of color: flower petals scattered like confetti, garlands strung between trees, and townsfolk mingling with excited chatter. You spotted Haley and Leah setting up a booth of fresh flower crowns, Sam waving you over by the punch bowl, and even Linus smiling from a shady spot near the trees.

But you were looking for someone else.

You turned, and there he was.

Sebastian stood near the edge of the field, a single black dahlia tucked behind one ear (probably courtesy of his mother). His usual black hoodie had been traded out for a clean, deep green button-up rolled at the sleeves, his fingers awkwardly fidgeting with the hem. When his eyes met yours, he offered a soft smile that made your heart stutter.

“I was hoping I’d find you before the music started,” he said, walking toward you. “You look… amazing.”

You raised a brow, feigning casual confidence. “So do you. Didn’t know you owned anything other than grayscale.”

“Shocking, right?” he said, smirking. Then his expression shifted, more uncertain. “So… you know the whole dance thing is kind of corny, but…”

You tilted your head, trying not to smile too hard.

“But?”

Sebastian took a breath and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small bouquet, wildflowers, imperfect and hand-picked. “Will you dance with me?”

You blinked, heart lurching in your chest. “Sebastian…”

“I mean, only if you want to,” he rushed, eyes flicking away. “No pressure, I just thought, ”

You took the bouquet from him, fingers brushing, and smiled. “Yes. I’d love to.”

The relief in his face was almost comical. “Cool. Yeah. Okay.”

Soon, the musicians started tuning up, the townsfolk gathering in a circle around the flower-strewn clearing. You found yourselves at the edge of the dancing couples, facing each other.

The first notes rang out, light, lulling, and the two of you began to sway. It wasn’t a complex dance. Just slow steps, your hand in his, your other resting against his shoulder while his gently settled at your waist.

You weren’t sure when the rest of the world faded, but it did.

His eyes never left yours. His grip never faltered. And there, beneath a tree bursting with white blossoms, Sebastian leaned in just a little closer.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the music.

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

His forehead nearly brushed yours now. “Would it be completely ridiculous if I asked you to be my girlfriend right now?”

Your breath hitched, only for a moment, before you whispered back, “Only if you thought I’d say no.”

A slow, crooked grin tugged at his lips. “So… that’s a yes?”

You laughed, a breathless, blooming sound. “Sebastian. Yes. ”

He didn’t waste another second.

Sebastian leaned in fully, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your lips, gentle and full of emotion that had been simmering for months. It was awkward and sweet and perfect in every way that mattered. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, vulnerable and so full of affection you thought your heart might burst.

The music played on. The town danced. And you stayed wrapped in his arms, swaying as if there was nowhere else in the world

────୨ৎ────

By the time you returned to your farm the morning after the Flower Dance, the sunlight was already climbing over the hills and lighting your fields in soft gold. The breeze carried the scent of fresh blooms and cut grass, and the world felt quietly different, tilted in a way only you and Sebastian truly understood.

You still felt the ghost of his kiss on your lips.

You were his girlfriend now. You kept repeating it in your head as you watered the first rows of kale and parsnips, your cheeks warming despite the cool morning air. Somehow, just thinking about him made the whole world feel a little softer.

It didn’t take long for the news to spread.

Haley and Leah showed up by midmorning, arms full of flower clippings and playful grins stamped across their faces like ink. Leah barely waited until the gate shut behind her.

“So…” she said, stretching the word, “you and Sebastian , huh?”

Haley laughed, brushing hair behind her ear. “You looked so cute dancing together. He was totally into you. You could’ve dropped dead in the middle of the meadow and he still would’ve just kept holding you like a romantic anime character.”

You flushed. “Okay, calm down-”

“Oh no, no calming down,” Leah said, nudging you with her elbow. “We’ve been rooting for this since, like, the Solarian Chronicles night. It's about time.”

You tried to hide your smile as you leaned on your watering can. “It was... really nice. He was nervous. I was too. But it felt right.”

Haley softened, her teasing giving way to something genuine. “You deserve something good. He’s not perfect, but he’s definitely good.”

By the time they left with a few flower starts and a promise to return for iced tea later, your cheeks were still warm.

The next few days felt like walking through a gentle storm of knowing looks and sly comments. Marnie gave you a wink at the general store, Gus offered you a “congrats” coffee on the house, and even Linus nodded knowingly when you passed him on the trail.

But Sebastian? He acted like nothing had changed… except that everything had. You still saw him nearly every day, except now he held your hand when no one was looking. Now he lingered longer when you talked, his thumb brushing yours, eyes warm in a way that made your stomach flutter.

On the fourth day after the dance, he showed up at your farm around lunch, two mugs of coffee in hand and a half-smile you were beginning to associate with very good things.

You raised an eyebrow. “Coffee delivery?”

He shrugged. “Thought you could use a break. Also… Sam kind of made a comment earlier.”

You sipped your coffee, curious. “Oh?”

Sebastian leaned against the fence beside you. “He said, ‘You’re glowing or whatever, must be love.’ And then he gagged dramatically and walked into a tree.”

You burst out laughing. “So he knows.”

“He’s known. They all have. Small town, remember?” Sebastian smirked. “Abigail hasn’t said anything, though. I think she’s still stewing about being wrong.”

You nodded, not wanting to dig into that wound. “She’ll get over it. Hopefully.”

Sebastian reached over, brushing his fingers gently against yours. “I don’t care who knows, by the way. I’m not trying to keep us secret.”

That quiet, honest confidence made your heart stutter. “I don’t want to hide it either.”

He smiled, tilting his head just a little. “So… can I kiss you out here in the open, or do I need to wait until we’re behind a bush?”

You laughed, stepping closer. “You’ve got terrible romantic instincts, Sebastian.”

“Oh, really?”

You kissed him before he could finish his smug retort, and he melted into it with a grin against your mouth. And when you pulled back, you swore the sunlight looked a little warmer than before.

 

Chapter 29: XXIX | A Café in the City

It starts with a knock on your cabin door. You’re already mid-panic, standing in front of your wardrobe with a pair of ripped jeans in one hand and a flannel in the other, when Haley waltzes in like she owns the place.

"No," she says immediately, her eyes scanning your clothes like a disappointed stylist on a makeover show. "Absolutely not."

You blink at her. "I didn’t even put it on yet."

"Doesn’t matter. I can see the future, and it’s a disaster."

You sigh and drop the flannel onto your bed. "It’s just a date, Haley."

"Exactly! Your first official date with Sebastian," she says, marching into your room with the kind of purpose usually reserved for storming battlefields. "This isn’t the time for flannel and mud-stained jeans. You need to look hot."

You raise an eyebrow. "Hot?"

"Sexy," she clarifies, already digging through your closet like a woman on a mission. "But casual sexy, not like 'I tried too hard' sexy. You want him to look at you and forget how to breathe."

Your stomach does a somersault. "That sounds intense."

"Good. If he’s not sweating by the time he sees you, I’ll consider this a personal failure."

You can’t help but laugh, flopping onto your bed as Haley tosses options over her shoulder. "What exactly makes an outfit sexy anyway?"

"It’s all about balance," she says, pulling a black camisole out of your drawer. "You want to show some skin, but leave the rest to the imagination. Tease a little. Keep it soft and effortless. Like you didn’t plan it, even though you totally did."

She pairs the camisole with a high-waisted dark skirt and gives you a look that dares you to object.

"That skirt's kinda short," you say.

"Exactly," she smirks. "Your legs are amazing. Show them off. You’re farming all the time, may as well get something out of it besides turnips."

You roll your eyes but stand to hold the outfit against yourself. The mirror confirms Haley's instincts: the outfit works. It hugs your shape without clinging too tightly and makes you feel...different. Confident. A little dangerous.

"We’ll add a jacket," she says, already moving to your outerwear rack. "Something cropped, maybe denim. And boots. Not the ones with chicken poop on them. Real boots."

You groan. "You mean I have to wear shoes that aren’t comfortable?"

"Beauty is pain, sweetie. And you’re going to make that man regret wearing all black, because he’ll be blushing the whole time."

Haley pauses and steps back to look at you more seriously. "You like him a lot, huh?"

You nod, fingers smoothing the fabric. "I really do."

Her voice softens. "Then we’re going all out. Let’s do your hair."

You sit on the stool she drags in front of the mirror. She gets to work with practiced ease, brushing, fluffing, twisting a few strands into lazy waves, then teasing them just enough to give volume. It feels like she’s painting a picture on your head.

"You ever think of doing this professionally?" you ask, watching her in the mirror.

"Honestly? I used to," she says, focused as she tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. "Before I ended up here. Not that I hate it, but...sometimes I miss the glam of city life."

You nod, appreciating the honesty. "You’re good at it."

"Thanks," she says, giving you a smile. "And you’re about to make your boyfriend very, very confused about how he got so lucky."

Your cheeks go pink. "We haven’t even had the date yet."

"Trust me. He’s already in deep. This is just the final nail in the coffin."

She reaches for a tinted lip balm and applies it gently, then leans back to admire her work.

"There. You look like a dream."

You stare at your reflection and barely recognize yourself. Not because you look like someone else, but because you look like you ,  just...shined up a little. Seen through Haley’s eyes.

"Thanks, Haley," you say quietly.

She smiles, softer now, brushing a speck of makeup off your cheek. "You're welcome. Now go knock his emo little socks off."

You both burst into laughter, and for a moment, the nerves are gone. Just two girls in a cozy cabin, playing dress-up for something that feels like the start of a new chapter.

And you’re ready for it.

────୨ৎ────

You’re smoothing the fabric of your outfit for what feels like the hundredth time, eyes darting toward the door every few seconds. Haley had disappeared to her place with a satisfied smirk and an overly dramatic “You’re welcome, goddess,” leaving you alone in the quiet cabin, your heart pounding louder than your boots tapping against the floor.

You glance at the clock. Two minutes until six.

Then, the knock.

Three quiet taps.

You freeze for a beat, then scramble to the door, pausing just before you open it to do one last breath check and straighten your top.

When you swing it open, Sebastian stands there in his usual dark clothes; black jacket, dark jeans, his hands stuffed in his pockets, but the way his eyes rake over you makes it feel like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Whoa,” he breathes out, and then seems to catch himself, standing a little straighter. “You look… really good.”

You laugh quietly, shifting your weight. “Haley’s doing. She nearly passed out when I said I didn’t know what to wear.”

“She had good instincts,” he murmurs, then reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You look amazing.”

Your cheeks warm, and you murmur a thanks, stepping out and pulling the door shut behind you. The evening air is soft, spring settling comfortably around the valley now, the scent of blossoms on the breeze.

You walk side by side toward the bus stop, shoulders brushing now and then, and though you’ve walked this path a hundred times, it’s different tonight. More electric. More real.

Pam gives a knowing look when you board the bus, but doesn’t comment, just grunts and starts the engine, kicking up gravel as the valley disappears behind you.

────୨ৎ────

Zuzu City pulses with a quiet hum as you and Sebastian walk through the streets. Neon signs flicker to life as the sky darkens, people pass by in clumps and pairs, music drifts from open windows. You cling a little closer to his side, not out of nerves, but because it feels natural. Right.

The café he leads you to is tucked between a bookstore and a vintage record shop, small and glowing with warm golden lights strung above the entrance. Through the windows, you spot eclectic tables, mismatched chairs, and a hand-drawn chalkboard menu that changes by the week. It’s quiet inside; cozy, just a few patrons sipping coffee or talking over desserts.

Sebastian opens the door for you and murmurs, “I think you’ll like this place.”

You step in and inhale the scent of espresso, melted chocolate, and citrus.

“Oh, I already like this place,” you say, grinning up at him.

The barista greets Sebastian with a familiar nod and waves you both toward a corner booth, where velvet cushions and low light set the perfect mood. You settle in, a little giddy, a little nervous still, but more than anything; excited.

Sebastian watches you as you scan the menu, his elbow resting on the table, fingers idly toying with a paper straw wrapper. “So… I was thinking,” he begins, “since it’s our first date, I should be extra cool and mysterious tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your default setting?”

He smirks. “Touché.”

After ordering drinks, some spiced cocoa concoction for you and a dark roast for him, you fall into easy conversation. He tells you about a new song he’s working on with Sam, how Demetrius nearly caught Maru trying to build a drone in the living room, and how Abigail “accidentally” threw her sword into a river last week.

You laugh harder than you have in days, especially when he mimics Robin’s voice scolding Demetrius with exaggerated gestures.

And then it slows, softens.

The drinks arrive, and you find yourself quietly watching the steam curl from your mug, his fingers wrapped around his coffee, thumb absently stroking the side.

He clears his throat. “Hey.”

You look up.

“I know it’s only been a few months,” he says, voice quieter, more careful, “but… I feel like I’ve known you longer. Being with you, it doesn’t feel forced or complicated. It’s just… good. Even when we’re not saying anything.”

Your heart swells, tight in your chest in the best way.

“I feel that too,” you reply. “You make everything feel softer.”

He blinks, then smiles, a real, slow, warm smile, and reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. You don’t pull away. You intertwine them instead.

The date stretches on, from drinks to sharing a slice of spiced plum cake, to Sebastian ordering something he calls the “black hole latte” just to make you laugh at the ridiculous foam art.

Outside, the night deepens, and when you finally leave the café, you wander a little, past the record store, where he insists you pick a vinyl to borrow, through the empty square with glowing fountains, until you’re at the edge of a small overlook that gives you a view of the city lights.

He stands behind you, arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his chin resting gently on your shoulder. You lean back into him with a happy sigh.

“So,” you say quietly, “was this the kind of date you were hoping for?”

Sebastian hums, his breath warm against your neck. “It was better. And it’s not over yet.”

You turn slightly, eyes meeting his.

“Wanna go for a walk,” he adds, “or just… go back to your place and pretend we’re in a movie, cuddled up under one of those way-too-many blankets you own?”

You laugh softly, heart dancing in your chest. “That sounds perfect.”

And when he kisses your cheek, just barely brushing your skin, you swear it’s the softest, sweetest thing you’ve ever felt.

 

Chapter 30: XXX | Renewal

Notes:

Apologies for the few day break! My keyboard broke and everything for this fanfic is on my computer so I was unable to update 3 But we are back on track!

The sun had barely crested over the eastern hills when you made your way into town, boots crunching on the dew-kissed grass. Early summer in Pelican Town still carried a touch of spring’s softness; cool breezes, birdsong drifting from the forest, wildflowers nodding sleepily under the weight of morning light.

You shifted the small crate in your arms, packed tight with tools, nails, bundles of hardwood, and a few odds and ends that might come in handy. You’d been planning this for weeks now, restoring the dilapidated community center to something whole again. It had become more than just a task. It felt personal. Like breathing life back into a piece of the town’s soul.

The heavy doors groaned open as you stepped inside. Dust stirred in shafts of sunlight filtering through cracked windows, and the old wood seemed to sigh at your presence. The scent of age clung to the air; old stone, rotting wood, long-forgotten papers. But it didn’t deter you. In fact, it energized you.

You set down your crate, cracked your knuckles, and surveyed the room. Today, you’d start on the main hall. Just as you were tugging off your jacket and tying up your hair, the creak of the door echoed again.

“Wow, you really weren’t kidding about starting early.”

You turned to find Sebastian, still zipping up his hoodie, standing in the doorway with a coffee in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. His black hair was tousled and slightly damp from the morning dew. He gave you a lazy smile, like just seeing you made his day instantly better.

“I brought coffee. And… questionable muffins from the Saloon.”

You laughed softly. “You really know how to charm a girl.”

He walked over and set the bag and coffee on a dusty table near the window. “It’s a gift. Also, I figured you’d forget to eat again.”

You raised a brow, only slightly guilty. “Not forget . Prioritize differently.”

He gave you a look. You grinned and took the coffee, the warmth seeping through your fingers as you took a slow sip.

“You staying to help?” you asked, voice casual, but already knowing the answer.

Sebastian shrugged, looking at the tools laid out on the floor, then back at you. “I thought I’d loiter and be a moral support type of guy. But yeah. I brought gloves.”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open again. This time, it was Leah and Haley, stepping inside with linked arms and matching canvas totes. Haley wore light denim overalls and a cropped white tank top, her golden hair pinned back with daisies. Leah had paint smudges on her cheek and her auburn hair pulled into a messy braid. They looked like a Pinterest board come to life.

“Well this is already the cutest summer project ever,” Haley declared, eyeing the space. “Can’t wait for it to turn into a pastel fairy cottage.”

“It’s a community center, Haley,” Leah said with a smile, nudging her side. “We’re aiming for... functional fairy cottage.”

They both turned to you with bright expressions. “We brought snacks,” Leah added, holding up a woven basket. “And paints, if you feel inspired.”

Behind them, Sam sauntered in with his usual carefree bounce. “So I heard there’s manual labor and snacks. Count me in.”

Within the hour, the quiet, forgotten building was filled with voices and movement. You worked with your sleeves rolled up, sweat dotting your forehead as you pried away old boards, sanded exposed wood, and swept years of dust and leaves from the corners.

Haley, predictably, kept her distance from anything involving nails or splinters, but she took to organizing like a pro, wiping down furniture and arranging salvaged items into little clusters that actually made the space feel warmer. Leah began sketching possible mural designs on a sheet of parchment she pinned to the wall, occasionally dragging you over to ask about “the vibe you’re going for.”

Sam offered chaotic commentary while pretending to help, holding boards for Sebastian and pretending to hammer when no one was looking. Sebastian, on the other hand, stayed right by your side, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, silently and efficiently matching your energy.

There was something grounding about the two of you working side by side. A rhythm. You’d reach for a tool and find him already handing it to you. You’d pull your hair back with a sigh, only to feel his fingers brush over your temple, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. His eyes lingered just a little longer than they needed to. You didn’t mind.

At one point, you stepped back to admire the cleared front wall. “Not bad, huh?”

Sebastian stood beside you, arms crossed, a subtle grin tugging at his mouth. “It’s starting to look like someone actually cares about this place.”

You nudged his arm. “Don’t act so surprised.”

“I’m not. Just impressed.” He looked at you, eyes warm beneath the dark sweep of his bangs. “You’re kind of incredible.”

You felt the words bloom inside your chest like wildflowers in the sun. That same flutter that never quite went away when he looked at you like that.

Before you could say something clever, Haley’s voice rang out, interrupting the moment.

“Hey lovebirds! Break’s over!”

You spun, cheeks warming. “We’re not-!”

Leah smirked knowingly from behind her sketchpad. “We didn’t say you were.”

Haley gave her a look that was far too innocent to be innocent. You caught the brief brush of Leah’s hand against Haley’s hip before the blonde swatted it away with a playful eye-roll. The two of them exchanged a grin that left you suddenly suspicious and charmed.

The afternoon passed with gentle banter and more progress than you’d hoped for. Sebastian helped you patch one of the broken windows with an old pane you found in storage. Leah sketched a swirling vine design along the border of the wall while Haley dotted little floral motifs beside it.

Sam managed to fix the door hinge, which earned him an exaggerated bow from Sebastian and a sarcastic golf clap from you.

By the time the sun dipped low and shadows stretched long across the floorboards, the center felt transformed; still ruined, but full of life again. Like a heart beginning to beat.

Sebastian sat beside you on the wide front step, your legs lightly touching as the others laughed and packed up behind you. He passed you another coffee, colder now, but still sweet.

“You know,” he said softly, watching the wind roll through the trees. “This kind of feels like the start of something.”

You leaned against his shoulder, content. “Yeah. It does.”

Behind you, Leah and Haley’s laughter filtered through the doorway, and Sam’s voice followed with an exaggerated, “You’re not putting that in the mural, right?!”

You smiled to yourself. The community center wasn’t the only thing being rebuilt.

────୨ৎ────

The breeze is gentle now, warm with the promise of early summer, and the last golden rays of light catch in Sebastian’s hair as he glances over at you. His arm brushes yours just lightly, but it lingers a second longer than it needs to. Neither of you says anything at first. There’s a comfortable silence, the kind that comes after a long day spent with people you care about, after laughter, progress, and small victories.

“Want me to walk you home?” he asks eventually, his voice soft.

You tilt your head toward him, amused. “You live halfway across town.”

Sebastian smirks faintly, standing and brushing off the back of his jeans. “Yeah. So? I’ve got time.”

You hesitate, warmth rising in your chest that has nothing to do with the weather. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”

He offers you a hand without thinking, and you take it.

The two of you head down the worn path from the community center, stepping over grass poking up through cracked stone, the sky above you streaked with rose and indigo. Birdsong has quieted, replaced by the hum of insects and the rustle of early summer leaves. There’s something sacred about this time of day, when the world exhales and begins to soften.

“So,” he starts, glancing sideways at you, “you really think you’re gonna fix up the whole center?”

You grin. “I mean, I’ve come this far. Can’t stop now.”

Sebastian laughs gently, the sound low and warm. “I’m still not over how you got Sam to move actual furniture. That’s… an achievement.”

You smirk. “I’m persuasive.”

He chuckles again, nudging your arm. “You’re something.”

You bump his shoulder back, playful, heart pounding a little too loudly in your chest. “Is that your way of flirting?”

Sebastian snorts. “No, my flirting is way smoother than that.”

“Oh really?” You raise an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

He falters for half a step, surprised by your boldness, then glances sideways with a slow, crooked grin that could melt glaciers. “Alright. You’re the reason I’ve been smiling more lately. And I’m not just saying that because you bribed me with snacks last week.”

Your chest flutters. You try not to show it, but he sees your lips twitch into a smile. “Okay,” you admit. “That was… not bad.”

“See?” he says, mock smug. “Smooth.”

You’re almost at the farm now. Fireflies have started to appear, flickering in the long grass and between fence posts. The gate creaks gently as you open it, and the comforting sight of your cabin greets you, windows aglow with warm amber light. Everything feels quiet. Peaceful. Right.

Sebastian doesn’t step inside, not yet. He pauses beside the gate, hands in his pockets, glancing up at the sky.

“I like walking you home,” he says, more to himself than to you. “It feels… real. Normal. Like we’ve been doing it for longer than we actually have.”

You step a little closer, drawn by the softness in his voice. “Well… maybe we should keep doing it.”

He turns to face you fully then, his expression tender beneath the porch light. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “We should.”

Your hands brush. This time, you both let them stay that way.

 

Chapter 31: XXXI | Smoke and Static

Notes:

This will be the last chapter until next friday! I have exams this week unfourtunately 3

The rain is coming down in steady sheets, the kind that makes the valley feel like it’s wrapped in a soft gray blanket. It’s the perfect excuse to avoid chores, to leave the animals well-fed but unsupervised, and to let the crops soak without your intervention. So, when Sebastian invites you over with a low-toned "Come hang out in my room today?" you don't hesitate.

You bring two mugs of coffee in a small carrier, watching steam curl between your gloved fingers as you knock on the side door. Sebastian opens it before you can knock twice, leaning in the doorway in a hoodie, his hair still damp from a brief venture outside. He smells faintly like pine and cologne.

“Hey,” he says, that smirk tugging at one side of his mouth. “Didn’t expect room service too.”

You hand him a mug and step inside, nudging his shoulder lightly with yours. “Only the best service for the guy who makes me sit through Solarian Chronicles.”

He scoffs. “Admit it,you liked being a chaotic rogue.”

You plop down in the chair beside his desk while he boots up his computer, your knees brushing his as he leans in to type something. It’s warm in his room,cozy, like a cocoon of dim lights, guitar strings humming in the corner, and the smell of old books and his cologne.

The conversation wanders, like it always does. From new game releases to how weird Pierre’s been acting lately to the fact that your cat has claimed half your bed permanently. You talk with ease, your laughter quieter in his room, more private.

At one point, you’re both sitting on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, your mug long abandoned on his desk. He’s lounging, propped on one elbow, eyes flickering to your mouth when you speak. You pretend not to notice,but you do. And you like it.

“So,” you say slowly, “if I said I came all the way up here because I like the way you look in moody lighting and oversized hoodies… would that make me shallow?”

Sebastian blinks, then lets out a surprised laugh, dropping his head back against the pillow. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

You lean in, grinning. “But not wrong.”

He gives you a look,one of those soft, half-lidded ones that feels like it's peeling you apart slowly. “No, you’re definitely not wrong. But you didn’t need an excuse to come up here. I like having you here.”

Your heart gives a traitorous little flutter. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He runs a finger down your arm, slow and deliberate, until he’s tracing circles on your wrist. “You’re kind of my favorite person, if that wasn’t obvious.”

You don’t say anything for a second, just lean in and nuzzle your nose against his jaw. He lets out a breath, warm and pleased, and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

When you end up tangled in his blankets, legs overlapping and his hand drawing idle lines on your back, it feels easy. Not rushed. Just right.

“I should get back before it gets too dark,” you murmur, not moving an inch.

He smirks, eyes still closed. “Sure. Any minute now.”

Neither of you make any effort to move.

You don’t leave.

Of course you don’t.

Not when his fingers are lazily tracing the hem of your shirt, not when the storm outside deepens into something moodier and more intimate,soft thunder, steady rain tapping on the rooftop like nature’s own lullaby. You stay curled against him on the bed, half on his chest, your legs tangled under the blanket that he pulled over both of you without asking.

“You’re warm,” he murmurs into your hair. His voice is huskier now, lazier with comfort. “You’re not allowed to leave.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s kidnapping,” you mumble against his collarbone.

He shifts slightly so he can look down at you, his mouth tugged into that rare, cocky smirk. “What if I promise to keep you well-fed and entertained?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Entertained, huh? Got a list of activities in mind?”

His hand slides up your back, fingertips brushing beneath the fabric at the small of your spine. “Plenty,” he says smoothly. “But most of them might require a rating system.”

You stifle a laugh, cheeks warming. “Is that how you flirt now? Movie ratings?”

“You started it,” he shoots back, letting his hand settle comfortably where your back curves. “With the hoodie comment. That was basically a proposition.”

“You should’ve seen what I didn’t say,” you tease, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. They’re darker in the low light, his pupils wide. You can feel his heart beating under your palm.

“Oh?” he challenges, eyes flicking down to your lips. “Give me your most scandalous line.”

You lean in, lips nearly brushing his ear, voice low and teasing. “If you wanted me to strip you out of that hoodie, all you had to do was ask.”

Sebastian lets out a sharp exhale,half-surprised, half-laugh. “Shit,” he says, a little breathless, cheeks red now despite the banter. “You’re,dangerous.”

You grin, pleased. “You like dangerous.”

He hums, letting his hand drift from your back to your waist, squeezing gently. “Yeah. Especially when she crawls into my bed on rainy days and ruins all my ability to focus.”

You feel your heart do that slow tumble again, soft and heavy. It’s more than the flirting now,it’s the way he looks at you, like you’re something precious he’s still getting used to having, but doesn’t want to let go of.

“Let me stay tonight?” you ask, quieter now, fingers threading through his hair at the nape of his neck.

Sebastian doesn’t answer with words. He just pulls the blanket higher over both of you, shifts to lie back with you draped across his chest, and presses a warm kiss to your temple. One of his hands finds yours under the covers, fingers threading together easily.

“Thought I already made that obvious,” he murmurs.

You both drift off slowly, the storm singing outside the window, your bodies close and limbs comfortably entwined. There’s no pressure,just heat, affection, and a spark that promises so much more in time.

Tonight, it’s just him. Just you. Just this.

 

You wake slowly, your body tucked against the heat of his. The thin gray blanket tangled around your legs isn’t what’s keeping you warm , it’s Sebastian.

His breath moves softly against your neck, warm and steady. One of his arms is draped lazily over your waist, fingers just brushing the bare strip of skin where your shirt must’ve ridden up in the night. You don’t move right away. There’s something sacred about the stillness, the quiet of his room at this hour , the distant hum of his PC, the rustle of the wind outside, the scent of him soaked into the pillow.

Then he shifts, groaning low in his throat. His arm tightens around you.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice low and gravel-thick with sleep. His lips hover just behind your ear.

You hum back, pressing your hips a little closer before you can stop yourself. His fingers flex at your waist. “You always wake up like this?” you tease, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Only when you’re in my bed,” he mutters, and there’s a soft, wicked smirk in his voice.

Your cheeks burn. You twist just enough to see his face , still sleepy, hair messier than usual, dark lashes heavy over his eyes. And yet those eyes find yours with ridiculous ease, like they were already waiting for you to look.

“I mean it,” he adds, his fingers dragging slowly up your side, just enough to make your breath hitch. “You’ve ruined sleeping alone for me.”

Your chest flutters. “So dramatic this early,” you murmur, trying not to smile too much.

“I’m trying to flirt here,” he says, pressing in until you’re flat on your back and he’s leaning over you. His weight doesn’t fully settle, but the heat of him radiates through the blanket and whatever thin shirt you wore to sleep. “You’re supposed to be breathless.”

You raise a brow. “Try harder.”

Sebastian’s eyes darken , a flicker of challenge. “Oh?” he says softly, then dips his head. His lips skim your neck, a lazy trail that turns purposeful near your collarbone. “You sure about that?”

You suck in a breath. “I’m not stopping you.”

He chuckles, low and wicked, vibrating against your throat. “Didn’t think so.”

You wind your fingers into his shirt , it’s soft, stretched at the collar, hanging loose around his frame. You tug him closer until his forehead presses to yours. The space between you sizzles, every breath shared. The air is thick with everything unsaid.

“You looked so damn cute yesterday,” he whispers, almost accusingly. “With your hair all windblown. Laughing with everyone like you didn’t know I was watching you the whole time.”

You tilt your head up and kiss him , not gently, not shyly. He responds immediately, lips parting, hand sliding to your lower back, pulling you into him like you belong there. His kiss is deep and a little slow, but it doesn’t lack hunger. You feel it in the press of his body, in the way his fingers keep searching your skin like he can’t get enough of the feel of you.

When you part for breath, he rests his forehead to yours again. “This is gonna sound stupid, but… being around you like this? It makes the rest of the world feel kind of irrelevant.”

You stare at him , flushed, tousled, and so sincere it makes your chest ache.

“Not stupid,” you whisper. “I feel the same.”

He smiles , soft and crooked, like he’s surprised by how happy he is. Then he brushes your hair from your face and tugs the blanket higher over both of you, curling into your side. His arm wraps around you again, this time tighter, fingers lacing through yours.

Neither of you speaks for a while after that. You don’t need to.

And if his hand slowly wanders beneath your shirt , slow, teasing, reverent , well, you don’t stop him. You just smile against his shoulder and let the morning melt away.

Chapter 32: XXXII | Music under the Night Sky

Notes:

I know I said I wouldn't upload until my exams were over but its two chapters left and an epilogue. I can upload them now :shrugs:

It starts with a simple message scratched in Sebastian's handwriting on a scrap of notebook paper, slipped under your door sometime in the late morning.

"Come by my room tonight. Bring tea if you're feeling generous. Got something I want to show you. -Seb"

You smile as you fold the note in half, slipping it into your jacket pocket. The sun hangs warm and golden outside your window, casting long beams across the floorboards of your farmhouse. The thought of Sebastian inviting you over is hardly new, but the casual boldness of the note sparks a quiet flutter in your chest. You know him well enough now to read between the lines: this isn't just a hangout. It's something a little more.

You spend the afternoon finishing up your chores, watering the early summer crops, gathering eggs from the hens, checking in on your cows and goats. All the while, the note stays tucked close, like a tiny secret pressing against your ribs.

When the sun dips low and the shadows stretch longer, you brew some of your favorite lavender-mint tea, pour it into a travel thermos, and make your way through the cool evening air to Robin's house. The forest smells sharp and alive. The sound of frogs and crickets guides your steps.

You knock softly before stepping down into the basement. Sebastian's room is dimly lit by the soft glow of his computer monitor and a single lamp on his desk. He turns in his chair as you enter, giving you a crooked, tired smile that softens the moment he sees the thermos in your hand.

"You actually brought it. That might be love," he jokes, standing to take it from you. His fingers graze yours in the handoff, warm and lingering.

"No one said I was easy to impress," you tease back, shrugging off your jacket and tossing it onto the back of his couch.

He snorts and takes a sip of the tea. "God, you're too good at this."

"At what?"

"Getting under my skin."

You shoot him a look that's equal parts playful and curious, but he just sets the thermos down and waves you toward his small sofa.

"Okay, okay. I actually meant it about wanting to show you something."

You settle into the cushions as he moves to his desk, fiddling with a few things before pulling out a small flash drive and plugging it into the speaker system tucked under his monitor. A few seconds of silence follow, then a soft guitar line begins to pour from the speakers, slow and clean, layered with a low hum of synth in the background.

"You wrote this?" you ask quietly.

"Yeah. It's not finished, but... it's close."

You listen in silence, letting the melody wrap around you. It's wistful and sweet in a way that surprises you, full of open space and slow-burning feeling. When the guitar solo comes in, your breath catches. It sounds like something unspoken, something waiting to be said.

When it ends, you glance at Sebastian. He's watching you instead of the screen, one knee pulled up to his chest, fingers tapping nervously against his leg.

"It's beautiful," you say, and mean it. "Is it about someone?"

He looks down, cheeks darkening. "Maybe."

You lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. "Wanna narrow that down for me?"

"Not really," he murmurs, but there's a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

You grin. "Come on. Give me a hint."

"Okay. It might be about someone who brings me tea and throws off my emotional equilibrium on a daily basis."

You laugh, trying not to look too pleased. "That narrows it down to, like, three people."

"Three?"

"Emily brings people tea sometimes. And Leah's pretty emotionally disruptive."

He groans, tossing a pillow from the couch in your direction. You catch it midair and hug it to your chest.

"You suck," he says, but he's smiling.

You shift, letting your legs curl under you as you scoot a little closer on the couch. "Do you wanna play something else? I like hearing your stuff."

Sebastian hesitates, then nods. He picks up his guitar from its stand and sinks down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He tunes quickly, then starts strumming a softer melody, one you don't recognize yet.

As he plays, you find yourself watching his face. The way his brows furrow in concentration, how his shoulders sway with the rhythm. It's different seeing him like this, more vulnerable, more present. Each note feels like a conversation you haven't had yet.

"That one's still forming," he says after a few bars, voice low. "Not even sure what it's about yet."

"Want help figuring it out?"

He raises a brow. "How?"

You shift closer again, this time leaning your head gently on his shoulder. Your hand brushes against his, guiding his strumming fingers to stillness.

"Start with this," you say softly.

There's a long pause. The air is thick with silence, but not uncomfortable. You can feel his breath catch, his posture shift slightly as he sets the guitar aside.

"You're distracting," he mutters, turning his head toward you. His voice is huskier now, the words edged with amusement.

"Good. That means it's working."

He huffs a quiet laugh, then reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're a menace."

"You like that about me."

His hand lingers at the curve of your jaw, thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. "Yeah. I really do."

Your pulse skips as he leans in slowly, deliberately. This time there's no teasing, no hesitation. Just the warm, steady press of his lips to yours, the kind of kiss that deepens without rushing, that settles low in your stomach and wraps around your ribs like a slow burn.

When he finally pulls back, it's only by an inch. His forehead rests against yours, both of you still breathing softly in sync.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while," he admits.

"I've been waiting for you to."

He leans in again, kissing you slower this time, like he's memorizing the shape of your mouth, the softness of your lips. His hand slides down to your waist, anchoring you gently against his side. You're not sure how long you stay like that, tangled together on the couch, the soft hum of music still playing in the background, the whole world narrowed down to this room and his touch.

Eventually, he shifts, resting his head against the back of the couch and tugging you gently until you're leaning fully into his side. One of your legs drapes over his, your arm across his chest. He keeps his hand at your waist, fingers tracing idle shapes through the fabric of your shirt.

Neither of you speaks. You don't need to.

Outside, the night carries on. Inside, everything is warm and quiet and full of unspoken promises.

The music drifts on.

And neither of you gets up to stop it.

 

After the quiet music faded and the last of the tea cooled between your hands, Sebastian slipped his fingers around yours and tugged gently.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low and soft, full of something unspoken but urgent.

The night air outside clung to your skin with a chilled whisper, but it was nothing compared to the warmth still lingering in your chest. The stars were out in full, scattered across the velvet sky like scattered diamonds, and the distant lights of Zuzu City shimmered faintly on the horizon.

You followed Sebastian along a narrow path behind the house, past familiar trails and into the thickening treeline. He didn’t speak much, but his hand stayed tightly around yours the entire way.

It wasn’t long before the trees began to thin, and the ground gradually sloped upward. Eventually, you emerged onto a flat, rocky ledge you’d never seen before, a hidden perch high above the valley. Zuzu City blinked like a constellation below you, impossibly far away, as if you were standing above the world.

“This is my place,” Sebastian murmured, stepping aside so you could take it in. “No one else knows about it. Not Sam. Not even Maru.”

You turned toward him slowly, lips parted, but he was already looking at the view, hands buried in his pockets, shoulders curled inward against the breeze. His hair shifted lightly with the wind, catching the moonlight in a way that made your heart ache.

“I used to come up here when I felt like I couldn’t breathe,” he said, voice softer now, vulnerable. “When I didn’t know who I was supposed to be. Everyone always had an idea. My mom. Demetrius. Even Abigail, sometimes. I tried being what they needed, but it never felt right.”

You stepped closer, not saying anything. Just listening.

“Then you showed up,” he said. “This… stubborn, weird, confident farmer who wears combat boots with sundresses and talks to chickens like they’re people. You didn’t care what anyone expected of you.”

He glanced at you now, eyes lit by starlight and something far more tender. “You helped me realize I could stop pretending.”

Your breath caught.

Before you could speak, Sebastian reached out, brushing a thumb gently across your cheekbone. “I think I fell for you the first time you made fun of my eyeliner smudging.”

You laughed, quiet, breathy, and stepped closer, until your forehead leaned against his.

“I think I fell for you when you offered me your last granola bar like it was a diamond,” you whispered.

His smile curved slightly, mouth close enough that you felt it rather than saw it. “You always did have low standards.”

You leaned in first, closing the space between you in a soft, warm kiss that bloomed with quiet certainty. There was no rush, no tension, just the feeling of something unfolding, something real.

When the kiss broke, you sat down against the cool stone, and Sebastian settled behind you, his legs on either side of yours, arms wrapping loosely around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

Together, you watched the trees sway below and the city lights flicker like distant dreams. Neither of you spoke for a while, and neither of you needed to.

You were exactly where you were supposed to be.

 

Chapter 33: XXXIII | The Year Behind Us

The sun is just starting to dip below the mountains, casting long amber shadows across Cindersap Forest. The soft hush of early evening drapes Pelican Town in a comforting blanket of gold and lilac, and for once, your hands aren’t covered in dirt or fish scales. Today, you’re simply here, surrounded by the people who made the past year feel like more than survival.

You’re seated on a thick picnic blanket laid out beneath the canopy of trees behind Leah’s cottage, the edges held down with river stones and mismatched mugs. There’s a firepit nearby, crackling and popping, sending little sparks up into the dimming sky. Marshmallows, melted chocolate, and half-burnt graham crackers are scattered on a shared platter.

Leah leans against Haley, her fingers casually tracing shapes on Haley’s knee while Haley, draped in a cream sweater that’s far too soft to be anything but hers, giggles at something Sam just said.

Sam lounges nearby, holding a harmonica he hasn’t quite learned to play but insists on bringing everywhere. “Remember the first time we all tried to cook together in the saloon kitchen?” he says through a laugh. “It was supposed to be pizza night. We ended up with flaming dough and Gus kicking us out.”

Haley grins. “Correction. You caught the dough on fire, and Gus told you to leave. The rest of us stayed and made actual food.”

“Yeah, well…” Sam shrugs and tosses a marshmallow in the air, catching it in his mouth. “Not all of us were born chefs.”

You laugh, the sound warm in your chest as you rest your head against Sebastian’s shoulder. His arm drapes loosely around your waist, fingertips occasionally brushing small circles over your hip through the fabric of your hoodie. He’s unusually quiet, but not in that closed-off way you remember from when you first met him. No, this is a content silence, his kind. Comfortable, real.

“You’ve been quiet,” you murmur just for him, voice low and light.

“I’m happy,” he says simply, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “This is all… a lot more than I thought life could be.”

The group continues reminiscing, Haley and Leah joking about their first “unofficial date,” which included Leah trying to sketch a goat and Haley somehow ending up with paint on her nose and knees. Leah blushes a little as Haley threads their fingers together, tugging her closer with a teasing smile.

It hits you all at once, the depth of what you’ve all built together. Not just your farm. Not just your relationship with Sebastian. But this , a found family forged through weird cooking nights, long fishing trips, late-night talks in the rain, and the soft glow of healing.

Sam’s harmonica squeaks out a wrong note and he curses under his breath, trying again. This time, it’s nearly in tune. Everyone claps sarcastically. He bows with exaggerated flair.

Leah snuggles into Haley’s side, her voice soft and nostalgic. “I remember the first time I really noticed how much the town changed after you showed up,” she says, looking toward you. “It was like someone turned the lights on in everyone’s heads. Even grumpy ol’ Clint started smiling more.”

You laugh. “I’m not sure I can take credit for that. But it’s nice to know I made a difference.”

Sebastian’s fingers slip under yours and squeeze. “You made more than a difference,” he says quietly. “You gave me something to look forward to every day. That’s… not something I thought I’d ever say out loud.”

You shift, curling more fully into his side, legs stretched across his lap as the fire dims to glowing coals. Around you, laughter fades into content sighs, quiet whispers, and the occasional soft kiss exchanged between Leah and Haley. It’s peaceful. Sacred, almost.

“I guess this is what home feels like,” you murmur, eyes half-lidded.

Sebastian tilts his head until his lips brush your temple. “Yeah. And we’ve got so much more ahead.”

You nod, your chest full and warm. The last of the sun disappears, stars beginning to pepper the velvet sky above you. For a while, no one says anything. There’s no need.

Here, under the trees with the people who matter most, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

────୨ৎ────

Spring in Pelican Town always feels like a promise, fresh blossoms curling along fences, wildflowers creeping into stone paths, and a breeze that carries laughter through the trees. Today, it carries something more: music, celebration, and love.

Leah and Haley’s wedding is set in the meadow near the forest, where wildflowers bloom unprompted and the light always seems golden. Wooden chairs are arranged in semicircles, flower petals strewn across the grassy aisle. Robin constructed a rustic arch entwined with ivy, and Emily insisted on coordinating the colors (“soft coral and moss green,” she’d said, clapping her hands). The final touch? A single sketch by Leah printed on each seat, a simple line drawing of her and Haley holding hands in a swirl of wind.

You sit toward the front, your hand loosely wrapped in Sebastian’s. He’s in all black, of course, but someone (probably Sam or Demetrius) managed to convince him to wear a crisp shirt under his vest. His hair is neater than usual, but it still curls slightly at the edges. You swear he hasn’t looked away from you all day.

“They look good together,” he murmurs, watching as Haley and Leah walk down the aisle hand in hand instead of one waiting at the altar. The crowd hushes as Mayor Lewis steps forward, but all you can focus on is the way Sebastian’s thumb brushes over your palm.

“They’re perfect,” you whisper back, smiling.

So are you and him.

The ceremony is short and warm, with vows exchanged between sniffles and quiet laughter. Leah reads hers off a small watercolor card she painted herself. Haley surprises everyone by speaking from the heart, voice trembling slightly as she promises to chase every sunrise and sketchbook with Leah for the rest of her life. By the time they kiss, surrounded by flower petals and applause, there’s not a dry eye in the crowd.

At the reception, the meadow glows with lanterns strung between trees, tables covered in handmade decorations, and wildflower bouquets in mason jars. You eat too much cake, sneak sips of Emily’s spiked lemonade, and dance barefoot in the grass with Sebastian, your head spinning for more reasons than the sugar.

Later, after goodbyes and hugs and half-drunk toasts from Sam and Willy, you and Sebastian walk back to your cabin in the soft hush of twilight. He carries your shoes. You carry his jacket draped over your shoulders.

The front porch creaks beneath your weight as you settle on the steps. He leans against the railing, silent for a while, until:

“You ever think about it?” he asks quietly.

You glance up. “Think about what?”

“Weddings. Us. What it might be like someday.”

Your heart stutters. “I… sometimes.”

He doesn’t look at you at first, just at the forest, the sky, the way moonlight softens everything it touches.

“I’m not saying tomorrow,” he murmurs. “But soon. I want it to be you. I’ve known that for a while.”

You turn to face him fully, eyes wide and aching with affection.

“I want it to be you too.”

He exhales, tension melting from his shoulders, and moves to sit beside you. His hand finds your thigh, slow and steady, then trails up until it slips under the borrowed jacket, his fingers warm against your waist.

“Come inside?” you whisper.

He answers with a kiss.

The door shuts behind you, and suddenly, it’s just the two of you. The cabin is dark except for the soft flicker of the fireplace, casting gold across the wooden walls. Sebastian's hands are on your hips before you've even taken off your jacket, and you're already pressing closer, drunk on his warmth, his scent, the slow rhythm of his mouth against yours.

You lead him to the couch, but neither of you sit. Instead, you remain standing, tangled in each other, his breath warm on your neck, his voice rough with affection.

“You looked so beautiful today,” he whispers. “Everyone saw it. But only I get to touch you like this.”

You feel heat bloom down your spine, his words sinking deeper than they have any right to. Your hands drift under his vest, fingers tracing the hard lines of his back as he leans into you, needy, devoted.

He kisses you again, slower this time, more deliberate. His mouth moves against yours like a vow, like he’s already saying “I do” without needing an altar.

Later, you’ll end up tangled in blankets on the bed upstairs, with his arms snug around your waist and his breath at your ear. But for now, you lose yourselves in the moment, pressed together in your cabin, the scent of pine smoke in the air, your hearts beating in sync.

The fire burns low. Outside, the night is soft and starlit. And as you lie curled against Sebastian’s chest, his hand splayed over your stomach and your leg looped lazily over his, you know without question:

This is your forever beginning.

And it’s only just getting started.

 

Chapter 34: Epilogue

The sea is still tonight, as if it too is holding its breath.

Soft music drifts from a single record player near the pier, and lanterns flicker above in hushed rows. They cast golden halos across the sand where kids chase fireflies and townsfolk murmur quietly among themselves, all waiting for the jellies.

You’re leaning against Sebastian, your cheek resting on his shoulder. His arm is wrapped firmly around your waist, hand splayed protectively over the curve of your pregnant belly. Your daughter, Lila, is seated in front of you in the sand, barefoot and wide-eyed, her tiny fingers tangled in a bundle of wildflowers she collected on the walk over.

"Do you think they'll glow purple this year?" she whispers, blinking up at the water.

"They might," Sebastian says, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "Only if you're watching closely enough."

Sam is a few feet away, pointing out constellations to Lila with an exaggerated sense of drama, while Leah and Haley sit close together on a quilt nearby, their own toddler dozing peacefully against Leah’s chest. You smile at the sight, how soft Haley’s expression has become, how instinctively Leah adjusts their daughter’s little sunhat in the moonlight even though the sun’s been down for hours.

You remember when all of this felt impossibly far away.

Sebastian must be thinking the same, because his fingers lace through yours slowly, deliberately. You glance up and find him already watching you.

“You remember our wedding?” he asks, voice low against your ear.

“Every second,” you murmur.

It had been a warm autumn day, sunlight filtering through amber leaves as you stood under the large oak on your farm. Abigail didn’t attend, not out of bitterness, but because she didn’t know how to say goodbye. Sam played guitar. Leah cried. Haley helped you into your dress and whispered something about Sebastian practically vibrating with nerves.

You had kissed him, and the wind had picked up like it wanted to cheer too.

“I remember the way you looked walking down the path,” Sebastian says now. “I thought, there’s no way this is real. No way you were really choosing me.”

You press your lips to his jaw. “Always.”

He sighs, and the sound is full of contentment. “And now we’ve got this little wildflower running around,” he adds, nodding at Lila, who has very seriously handed Sam a stick and declared it a “magic wand.”

You laugh, pressing a hand to your stomach. “And another on the way.”

Sebastian slides his hand over yours, resting both on the swell beneath your sweater. “I hope they’re just like you.”

You turn to face him fully, heart thudding a little harder. “I hope they have your eyes.”

“And your bravery.”

“And your stubbornness.”

He grins. “So, we’re raising a little troublemaker, then?”

“Obviously.”

Just then, a hush falls over the crowd.

The first moonlight jelly drifts into view, its translucent body glowing a soft pale blue. Then another. Then a dozen more. They move like dreams across the water, silent and slow, their bioluminescence lighting up the bay in gentle pulses. Lila gasps, clutching your leg with one hand and pointing with the other.

“Look! Look, Papa!”

“I see them,” Sebastian says, awestruck despite having seen them dozens of times. “They’re beautiful.”

The group gathers closer. Leah wraps her arm around Haley’s waist, resting her head on her shoulder. Sam joins your side and tosses a wink at Lila, who has now fully buried herself in your lap, content to be surrounded by the people she loves most.

For a while, no one speaks. There's no need to.

The world is quiet. The stars shimmer above. And the jellies dance.

You lean into Sebastian, pressing your nose to his scarf, inhaling the scent of sea salt, fresh ink, and something that has always been uniquely him .

“I’m happy,” you whisper.

He kisses your temple, then your cheek, then your lips. It’s soft, lingering, like he’s still trying to memorize you, even after all this time.

“Me too,” he says, his voice thick with love. “I never thought I’d get something this good.”

And in the soft hush of the moonlit sea, with your daughter curled in your lap, your unborn child resting under your joined hands, and your closest friends sitting just a heartbeat away, you know one thing for certain:

This isn’t just happiness.

This is home.

 

Notes:

And this is it :D
I hope you all enjoyed this fanfiction!
There is a severe lack of SDV fanfics, and a HUGE lack of multi-chapter fanfics too.
Let me know if there's any SDV ships you want to see! or another sebastian x reader <3