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Ch. 68: Do You Think You Did It?

SUNDAY - WINTER 28

One year. He’d made it one year in Stardew Valley.

The Achilles of yesteryear would never have anticipated this—hell, he had planned to drop in, clean up the property, hand it off to a realtor, and get on out of there before the Summer tourists could even lay down their towels on a beach he’d definitely never envisaged himself ever visiting. Badabing Badaboom.

But he had stayed. Why? Why was he here? Why was he still here in Stardew Valley after all this time?

A number of things. Who knows, does it matter? Achilles thought idly to himself as he watered the crocus.

No, it didn’t particularly matter, but he always loved a clear answer all the same.

Because you needed it. Because it had something to give you. Something to teach you.

And now… he wasn’t sure if he’d ever leave. He would travel, of course—he knew Shane would keep the farm well under control—hell, that was something, the Achilles of yesteryear would never have helped manage a farm. But Stardew Valley would always be a home.

Keep your mind and ears open. That’s what Emily had once said to him—reassuring words after a rather foul fortune. Some interesting things might just take root.

How much he had gained. How much he had let go. Would he ever be truly content? Perhaps, perhaps not. But he would try, a day at a time.

Achilles glanced up at the small, faded portrait of two root vegetables that he had greeted him the first time he’d stepped foot in the farmhouse. He had kept it in its place on the wall, though he had switched out the ratty sofas below it for something more modern long ago. Next to it now hung the photo Alex had gifted him for Winter Star. They looked a little strange together. He really ought to hire an interior designer.

There were real things he ought to be doing right now, but he allowed himself the grace to continue his leisurely stroll down memory lane and meandered over to the bedroom where a typewriter now sat gleaming atop his desk, out of its box, alongside several scattered binder-clipped piles of pages and half-filled mugs of tea.

But he made his way past this clutter, instead searching for something in his nightstand, a letter he had only half-remembered keeping. He had just located the envelope underneath a book of crosswords when he was interrupted by Alex bounding through the front door, fresh from his morning training.

“Weren’t you supposed to be cleaning?” he asked by way of greeting, peeking his head through the bedroom door as Voltaire pattered merrily across the floorboards to join him.

“Ha.” Achilles set the envelope back on the nightstand and picked up a pill bottle, giving it a silent shake. “Well perfect timing for you then, isn’t it? Here.” He tossed the empty bottle across the room, which Alex caught with one hand before retreating, all the while shaking his head in dismay, to the kitchen for the recycling bin.

Achilles’ parents were finally paying Stardew Valley a visit. Neither had seen the town in twenty some years, but Apolline and Perry were due to arrive in three hours for lunch and would be staying at the farmhouse for the next week, just in time to bare witness to the Spring planting he and Shane were already gearing themselves up for.

Strawberries and kale, green beans and potatoes, garlic and cauliflower; Shane had been eager to get a jumpstart on the season, and so the two had gone over the plans the day before, plotting out the various patches on Achilles’ obviously to-scale diagram, analyzing the best configurations for the scarecrows and sprinklers.

At Achilles’ insistence, they had reserved one small area down by the pond for the tulips he knew Evelyn loved and another area for leeks. Shane insisted it was a “stupid choice” and “waste of space” due to their low profitability—but Achilles couldn’t help himself. He still wanted to get on George’s good side, at least for Alex’s sake. Progress had been made, for sure—the old man made eye contact with him now—but a biweekly gift of his favorite vegetable could only help speed things along, right? Especially as their relationship was perhaps taking two steps back this week, for there was limited room at Strawberry Farms with Apolline and Perry’s arrival; and although Achilles had purchased an air mattress for himself, Alex had insisted he spend the next few nights with him instead.

“I’ll expand this bad boy next year, though,” Achilles had said the day before, slapping the frame of his front door after sharing the problem to a barely-listening Shane. “Add a guest room or two. Probably two, there’s just so much space to expand. Perhaps even a living room, or at the very least, a piano room. I had a Steinway back in Monstera, lovely thing, I should get back into playing… Of course, we’ll have to expand the closet, add another full bathroom. Oh goodness, and of course, we have to have a library! Combine it with an office, perhaps… well, I suppose we’ll be keeping Robin busy, that’s for sure.”

“You already have a living room,” Shane had grunted, nodding at the couches by the fireplace.

“Hmm, I think I’d call that more of a family room.”

“Fuckin’ hell.”

Achilles had placed an order at the Stardrop for several dishes due to be delivered at noon, but Alex had persuaded him to do at least a little bit of cooking himself to celebrate his parents’ arrival.

“Nothing better after travel than a home cooked meal!” he’d said, to which Achilles had darkly responded under his breath, “Yeah, yeah, I’d argue that depends on who’s cooking it…”

Alex padded back into the bedroom where Achilles still sat and took a seat by the desk.

“You nervous?” Achilles asked, turning away from the nightstand to pick up a sweater he’d left on the floor that morning. “If so, you can channel that energy into helping me clean.”

“Huh. Sucks for you, I’m not nervous.” But Alex joined in nevertheless, returning the books scattered about to their respective places on the shelves. “You know, I’ve been told I’m pretty good with parents.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all—”

“Although I’ve never met famous people before—shut up, you don’t count. But you’re the one who keeps telling me how, like, nice your parents are, so I feel like I don’t need to worry, right?”

“That is true, they are very nice.”

“How’d they end up with you?”

But Achilles didn’t take the bait, only shooting Alex a resigned look before saying, “Mysteries of the genetic universe, I suppose. Some of us just turn out worse than our ancestors while some us are… better.”

There was a second delay before Alex seemed to catch the minor implication behind Achilles’ words. But after a beat, he bit his lip and turned slightly pink, hands fluttering about in search of nothing, before giving a jerky little nod and returning to the desk. In what seemed like a hurried attempt to transition topics, he picked up one of the stacks of typed papers on Achilles’ desk and asked, “Is this your new book?”

“Mmhm, that’s like… draft 4? Maybe?”

“Wowiee, so productive! It says ‘green’ on the cover, though—”

“Yeah, I got in the habit of using colors as a kid because of my dad. Probably thought it made me incredibly cool and unique or something—”

“Can I read it?”

“Oh. I mean… it’s not very good. Not yet, at least.” Achilles closed his closet door and walked over to join Alex, who reflexively slipped an arm around his waist. “But I suppose if you really want to…”

“Nauer, it’s ok. I’ll wait until you’re ready.” Alex gently set the pages back down and buried a kiss in Achilles’ hair.

“It took a bit, but I think I’ve finally come to terms with it. Finally forced my stubborn brain to listen to my stupid ass heart, you could say.” Achilles sighed and looked out the window. The temperature had been rising; the snow had mostly melted away now, revealing, amidst all the mud, the tiniest green shoots all across Achilles’ farm. Weeds, Shane had noted, but signs of life all the same.

Buds were beginning to appear alongside returning songbirds in the fruit trees they had planted. He could hear their whistles, the flutters of their wings among the branches. And the biting wind that had scored his home with creaks and murmurs in the weeks previous had slowed to a tickling breeze. Achilles had even caught sight of a few junimos the previous day, blue and green, bouncing across his land. Spring was coming.

He stepped backwards, leaning into the firm figure of Alex behind him, the touch of his hand on his shoulder, and sighed again. “Adult literature just isn’t for me right now.”

“But that’s okay, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, turning to meet Alex’s warm, steady gaze. “That’s okay.”

*****

Alex had manhandled him into preparing a salad (“it’s just cutting, you can even buy pre-peeled pomegranate seeds”) and some shrimp tartlets (“I’ll send you the recipe, it’s not hard”). He himself was baking a focaccia; the first sourdough having been a smashing success, Alex now considered himself something of an up and coming bread connoisseur.

“Scoot ya boot,” he said, giving Achilles’ ass a light tap to step aside as he bent to open the over door.

“Yes, chef!”

Alex rolled his eyes good-naturedly, sliding in his bread before straightening up to see Achilles, a pathetic little pout now on his lips, cry, “Help.”

His nose crinkling, Alex scrutinized the glass bowl between Achilles’ hands. “You don’t need help you dingus, you literally just blend those things together—”

“Um, that is just so rude, you’re supposed to listen, actually, when someone asks for help, instead of bullying them—”

Alex attempted to silence him with a kiss, but Achilles pushed him back with both hands, shouting, “Get away! This is a kitchen, Yoba, have you ever heard of germs? Cross-contamination?”

“Man, shut up, when the heck have you ever cared about germs, I found a week old bottle of lemonade on your desk…” The bread was in the oven, and Achilles was being, well, Achilles, so Alex decided it’d be best to step away from the chaos and observe from the fridge. “Sometimes I think it’s a little weird, you know.”

“What is? Wait, don’t talk right now, I’m about to blend.”

With a rather concerning amount of glee, Achilles gave a little hop before jabbing the “On” switch on the blender Alex had brought over from his own house. The mixture of cream cheese and onions and other various ingredients for which Achilles had painfully perused Pierre’s general store gave a start, and after a minute of rackety churning, he popped open the lid and shot Alex a thumbs up.

“I was just saying that sometimes I think it’s weird how… not weird it is. I was worried everything would get awkward, since we were, like, just friends first. But I don’t know.” Alex shrugged. “It just never really felt weird. Like I never had to force myself to touch you.”

Hearing those words, Achilles whipped around, the tail of his new apron smacking the handles of his drawers. “Excuse me?” He jabbed his silicon spoon towards Alex like a fencing foil before returning to his tartlets. “Well, I am so happy for you that you don’t feel like you had to force yourself to touch me—”

“—okay, you know that’s not what I meant—”

“—absolutely disgusting creature from the abyss, was expecting to have to poke it with a ten foot pole—”

Alex rushed forward, and, taking advantage of Achilles’ intense concentration (rather than eyeballing the job, he was carefully scooping out each tartlet’s cream cheese mixture with a measuring spoon), picked him up and dipped him to the floor, ignoring Achilles yelp as he laughed.

“No! No! The sauce—the sauce!” Achilles cried, flailing his arms before his screams dissolved into laughter as well.

“All I was saying,” Alex said, returning Achilles upright. “Was that it feels good to touch you. And to kiss you. And to call you my boyfriend. It’s easy.” He handed Achilles back his spoon and pecked him on the cheek. “And this isn’t even considered a sauce, man.” And with that, he smacked the back of Achilles’ head and walked away.

“I’m suing you for battery.” Achilles waved a fist at Alex’s retreating figure. “Expect the court summons in the mail in one week!”

*****

A quarter to noon, they returned to the bedroom to change out of their “chores clothes,” as Achilles put it. “Rich people things,” Alex had muttered under his breath.

“I will say, this part does kind of make me nervous,” Alex said, wriggling into a mustard jumper Emily had helped pick out for him the previous day. “What if your mom thinks I dress bad?”

“She thinks I dress bad, and she still loves me, it’ll be fine.” Achilles was sticking to all black today, but with the warming of the weather, had exchanged his sweaters for a loose button down and a blazer. “Anyway, she loves plaid—Emily probably knew that—and you look adorable. Like a wee bumblebee.”

He dodged the hoodie Alex hurled at him.

“Hey, now what’s this?” Alex was kneeling on the ground, the pale green envelope Achilles had been searching for earlier that morning in his hands.

“Nosy.”

“It fell off the nightstand, I swear— ‘To Achilles.’” To demonstrate his good faith, he handed it to its intended recipient. “You’ve got some secret love letter from Lewis you’re hiding from me?”

“Oh my god, it really is the same envelope isn’t it, I didn’t even realize—“ Achilles flipped it over and slipped his finger under the flap. “But no, it’s not a love letter from Lewis, if you can believe it. Here, you can read it if you want, it’s actually—“

There was a knock on the door.

*****

Apolline Desrosiers and Perry Robinson had taken a six hour flight across the Ferngill Republic, and a three hour taxi ride down from the nearest airport, and yet, Alex thought he had never seen two people look so… put together, after so much travel.

“That’s just the first class talking, don’t praise them,” Achilles said over his shoulder as he opened the screen door. “Hello, hello, hello!”

The rumors were true; on the surface, Achilles looked little like his mother, whose amber eyes and shimmering blonde hair ended in soft curls just below her shoulders. She was a tall woman, nearly as tall as Achilles himself, with a nude manicure, a pair of diamond studs, and an oversized, brown plaid blazer that Alex didn’t think Achilles would ever be caught dead wearing.

And yet, he could still see a bit of Achilles in her—he shared her athletic build, as well as her sharper features—and there was something familiar about the angle of her eyebrows. Eyebrows that were currently raised high on her forehead, for Apolline was nearly jumping with joy (an impressive feat, given the stilettos) fists bunched in front of her widely-grinning face as she embraced her son with a squeal.

No one had ever been this happy to see him in the past decade, that was for sure. Although, perhaps that was unfair—Alex had never strayed too far from home for any considerable length of time, and it’s not like George could do much jumping anyway.

Perry, in Alex’s opinion—though he never thought he was good at these things anyway—didn’t look much like Achilles either. Much rounder in face, significantly stockier, and quite a bit hairier (in addition to the scruffy beard, Alex couldn’t help but notice his forearms when the sleeves of his sweater rode up as he hugged his son), it was mostly just his paler complexion and dark hair (though Perry’s was streaked with grey) that had been passed down to Achilles.

Regardless of it all, what stuck out the most to Alex was that both of them looked kind.

Achilles stepped to the side to let his parents into the foyer, and in doing so, also revealed Alex who had been standing, frozen in thought, by the storage closet. He motioned for him to step forward. “I want to introduce you to—”

“Oh, you must be Alex, it is so wonderful to finally meet you, love!” Apolline rushed forward and embraced him tightly as if he were her own.

It took him a second to recover from the shock—she seemed to have unearthed within him a memory, with the faint scent of her floral perfume, the eagerness in which she held him—but with a little shake of his head, he pulled himself together and returned her hug.

“Great meeting you, Mrs. Desrosiers, ma’am!” Alex offered Perry his hand. “Mr. Robinson, sir!”

“Perry,” Achilles’ father said with a firm nod and an equally firm, callused grip.

Shaking aside their protests, Alex quickly gathered their luggage and carried it into the bedroom. When he returned, Achilles was already quite deep into the house tour, sharing the renovations he’d had Robin make in the kitchen. Unsure of what to do, Alex stood patiently by the door until Perry gestured for him to join them.

“—and that’s Voltaire. Cam basically forced him onto me—not too hard hard to believe, is it—but no regrets, he’s a very good boy, saved me a number of times this year…”

The ease with which Achilles spoke with them—there was no awkwardness, no hints of inauthenticity. There was respect—from both sides—but none of the heavy-handed deference George sometimes seemed to demand. The warmth, the intimacy, their relaxation. It was all palpable. Alex was in awe.

Even when they finally sat for lunch, their encouragement hadn’t dissipated one bit. They had complimented the food, calling out Alex’s shrimp tartlet recipe as “impeccably flavorful” and absolutelyshowering his focaccia with praise. They were equally generous with their curiosity and their laughter, and had seemed genuinely impressed after asking Alex about his pro-sports goals, for despite not having seen their son for over a year, Perry and Apolline had made sure to include Alex in their conversations.

And after lunch, it was Apolline who led him to the living room to chat as Achilles and Perry tackled the dishes.

“Achilles has told us so much about you,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “He’s had a bit of a rough year, hasn’t he, now? Perry and I are incredibly grateful for what you’ve done for him.”

“Oh!” Alex blushed under her gaze and had to look away. “Well, he’s really done a lot for me, too…”

What would it have been like to have grown up in a household like this one? Likely it had had its own challenges—both clearly had busy schedules, and the expectations to succeed must’ve been enormous, clearly—but while Achilles had clearly fallen victim to the suffocating pressure, he had always blamed himself and his surrounding society and peers rather than his parents, and had never shied away from sharing his privilege growing up in a home that was not only wealthy, but also very much filled with love.

As difficult as it was, at 2pm, he had to drag himself away. He had wanted to give Achilles some time alone with his parents regardless, but he also needed to head back to 1 River Road to help his grandparents prepare dinner—the Robinsons were joining them tonight. It’d been his own idea, and one that Evelyn had wholeheartedly supported—a way to “welcome Perry back to town!” before Lewis caught wind of the news and used it as an excuse to probably throw a celebration for Stardew’s “returning celebrity alumnus of the community.”

But he had had his own ulterior motives, too, in suggesting the dinner, which he had of course kept to himself. Perhaps George would take notice of Achilles’ dynamic with his parents. Perhaps some of it would rub off on him. His hopes weren’t high, but it couldn’t hurt, right?

“Thank you so much again for lunch, love, if was delicious.” Apolline enveloped him in another hug after he had tugged on his new sneakers. “We’ll see you tonight!”

Alex cheerily waved goodbye to Achilles and his parents, though his grin faded just a bit as he made the 15 minute trek back into Pelican Town, all the while wondering if, just perhaps, he could one day maybe be a part of a family like that, too.

*****

“Well, well, well!” Apolline had taken a seat back at the kitchen table and was pouring herself another cup of tea. “He seems like a very kind boy.” She turned to her husband, who was very closely examining one of the potted plants in Achilles’ kitchen. “Perry? What did you think of Alex?”

He jumped, nearly knocking over the crocus, before returning to the kitchen. “Alex? Oh yes, very nice young man. I knew his mother, you know.”

“Huh, did you really? Oh, actually, yes, I suppose that makes sense…”

“Not very well,” Perry clarified, fighting back a yawn. “A few years younger than me, she was a sweet girl. Clara, I think her name was. He looks like her.”

At this, Achilles furrowed his brow. Even without Alex’s Spirit’s Eve memory, he’d seen her pictures on the walls of 1 River Road. “Does he? People usually say the opposite.”

Perry shrugged and stifled another yawn. “Not the color of them, but still something about his eyes. Maybe his nose. It has been over a decade, I suppose I could be misremembering…”

Apolline waved him away with a flutter of her fingers. “Perry, why don’t you go to bed.”

“No, no, I’m all right, don’t wanna miss—”

“It’s all right. Take a shower, take a nap, we’ve got all week. Anyway, you’ll need all your energy in case George is in the mood to battle it out over something or another…” Achilles walked his dad to his bedroom and handed him one of the towels he’d purchased the day before. “Toothbrushes and shampoo and stuff are in the bathroom.”

Perry nodded his thanks as he unzipped his coat, setting it behind the desk chair. He took note of the typewriter, but only gave a small nod before saying, “Looks good.”

“Yeah, I… started something new. Don’t know where it’ll go, if anywhere, but I’m… feeling pretty good about it.”

Perry nodded. Gave the neatly stacked pile of manuscript drafts a light tap with his finger as Achilles continued to blabber.

“I’ll be teaching at the middle school in the new year, though. Well, substitute teaching, but still… Don’t worry, I’m… getting out of the house. Staying productive.”

Giving no sign, and yet every sign, that he had heard his son, Perry turned away from the desk and rested a hand on the back of the chair. “Seems like you’ve made a nice life out here. I’m proud of you.”

“Oh. Right.” Achilles swallowed. After a beat, he hurried to the closet as Perry swiftly transitioned back to George.

“Speaking of the old geezer, though… You, uh, need me to talk to him?” Perry’s eyes, the same brown as Achilles’, followed his son as he opened the closet door to point out the extra blankets. “You said he was saying some things… happy to, uh, have a chat with him, if you think it might help, he knew me and your grandpa pretty well…”

“Hmm?” Achilles paused, hand on the closet door. “Oh. No, dad, it’s ok. Alex and I, we’ve… he talked to him and he said it’s been getting better. But thanks.”

After showing his dad how to use the shower, Achilles returned to the kitchen where Apolline, still bright eyed and full of energy, had continued to sip her tea. She set down her phone when he entered and stood to pour her son his own cup before primly crossing her legs and bumping his knee with her toe. “So, tell me. Alex—do you think he’s the one?”

Achilles had instantly turned red and spluttered, though perhaps one could argue both reactions were from the piping hot tea on which he’d just burned his tongue. He took a second to recover before managing to choke out, “It’s been barely half a season.” But under her expectant gaze, he took another swallow, slow as he savored his response.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind. I don’t know. I hope so.” He paused and gave his tea a little swirl, watched the last sugar crystals dissolve amongst the leaves. “I really like him, Mom.”

“I can tell, love. I like him, too.” She patted his knee. “We’ll cross our fingers, shall we?”

*****

Dinner had been a success.

It had started off on a high—Achilles had previously informed Perry and Apolline that the Mullners rarely drank, so they had gifted their hosts with a set of infused extra virgin olive oils and vinegars instead, and there were few things Evelyn loved more than that.

And from there, things had remained smooth. As to be expected, the Robinsons were pleasant guests, and under Apolline’s charm, even George, whom Alex had been watching closely throughout the night, seemed less combative than usual, even bestowing one of Achilles’ jokes a hacking chuckle by the end of the night.

Perry and Apolline had bid them farewell after dessert, and not long after Evelyn and George— who hadn’t stayed up for New Year’s in decades—retired to their bedroom, leaving Alex and Achilles alone for the first time since the morning.

They kept their voices low, like teenagers, sitting with legs tangled on the couch that the Mullners had finally decided to purchase this past Winter Star (“although now that Alex is spending so much dang time with that Achilles, we need it even less,” George had complained).

“I liked your parents,” Alex whispered, his face barely an inch away from Achilles’. It wasn’t a particularly large couch.

“And they liked you. Though no surprises there, of course.”

Those first four little words sent a thrill down Alex’s spine, joined by a glowing warmth that spread outwards from his heart. “They’re… very kind.”

“It truly is a wonder how they birthed me, huh?”

“No,” Alex scolded. He placed his forefinger lightly against Achilles’ forehead. “I was going to say they’re just like you.”

“Hmm. If that’s the case,” Achilles murmured, gently clasping the entirety of Alex’s hand in his and bringing it slowly to his lips, “Then they’ll be sure to love you, too.”

*****

A series of creaks seemingly from Evelyn and George’s room sent Alex, Achilles, and Dusty (who seemed to understand the stakes) turning off the living room lights and tiptoeing to the bedroom.

Alex was toweling off from his shower when Achilles gave a soft whistle from the bean bag.

“Now that is the body of a gold-medal Artemian with a multi-million dollar Toria sponsorship and the cover of Mod magazine. Did I only say body? Sorry, body and face. Like Helen of Troy. I’d launch a thousand ships for you, hmm.” Under his breath, he added for himself “Although I suppose you’re more of a Patroclus… kind of. Eh… a stretch…”

Alex laughed and flashed a quick pose. “What can I say? I want to look good for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I bet you say that to all the girls… It’s pretty warm tonight, though, how about I make you an offer of $5 to not sleep with that on.” Achilles nodded at the t shirt Alex was holding between his hands.

“Creep.” But he laughed and pretended to throw the shirt at Achilles before folding it and placing it back in a drawer. “Also, you’re worth way more than $5, you cheapskate. Heck, I’m worth way more than $5…”

“Priceless, baby.” Achilles followed his lead, standing up from the bean bag and removing his blazer when his hand collided with something pointy jabbing the fabric. “Oh shit, I forgot, I must’ve put this in my pocket—” He withdrew the sheet of paper from this morning. “Lewis’ secret little love note to me.”

“El oh el. ‘Kay, so what is it actually?”

“It’s just the letter my grandpa wrote me when he left me the farm. What can I say, I was feeling a bit saccharine this morning, found myself suddenly thinking about this…”

“I don’t know what sack-a-rin means.”

“As cheesy as those Joja pizzas Shane keeps trying to bribe me with. Like overly sentimental. Come here, take a look for yourself.”

He unfolded the note, Alex peering over his shoulder.

Dear Achilles,

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: Strawberry Farm. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, my boy.

Good luck.

Love, Grandpa

P.S. If Lewis is still alive say hi to the old guy for me, will ya?

Achilles sighed, tossing it to Alex who was still reading, and finished changing for bed.

“It was kind of him to put faith in me to honor the family name, I’m sure he’s real proud watching me outsource 90% of running the farm to my neighbor.” He looked out the window, up at the stars and heavens above. “Sorry grandpa, I failed ya.” He returned to the bed, turning back the sheets and casually adding, “Or do we think he’s in hell? I didn’t know the guy that well.”

A joke, clearly, but even so, it wasn’t hard to discern the faintest trace of bitterness in his words. Achilles had come a long way in the most recent weeks, but the feeling of failure was not something that disappeared overnight, or even over seasons.

“‘Honor the family name…’” Alex looked over at Achilles who was now making himself comfortable under the covers. “You would zero in on that part.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He joined Achilles in bed, lying his head above his shoulder as he raised the letter above them and gave it a flick. “Ash, he literally says right there that the things that matter most in life are real connections with other people and nature. I may have gotten like a C minus in English class, but I’m still pretty sure the family name part is like, the result. Not the main idea.”

“Let me see that.” Achilles snatched the letter back and gave it another read through. But rather agree with Alex’s analysis, he merely asked, “So what do you think I was supposed to do, then?”

“I don’t know if you were supposed to do anything except just, I dunno, live your life, a new life. Connect with nature. Connect with people.”

“Do you think I did that?”

“Do you think you did that?”

No response managed to escape the tightly wound, scrunchy little frown of Achilles’ lips. His eyes remained focus on the the letter, now gripped tightly between both his hands, but it was clear from his hard, frozen stare that rather than reading, he was thinking hard.

Did you do it, ya bastard?

Connect with nature, connect with people. Sure, he’d done it. That being said, there hadn’t been anything particularly special to doing any of it, in fact, it would’ve been difficult not to do it, given that there was very little else out here to do in Stardew Valley besides simply existing among nature and existing among people. It’d been easy.

“I mean…” He had found his voice again. “Yes. Yes, of course I did that, it would have been harder not to, all there is out here are trees and nosy ass neighbors—”

“Okay.” Alex gently tugged the letter from Achilles’ grasp and set it on his nightstand. He flicked off the lamp, and in the dark, they could hear the soft clink of Dusty’s tags as the dog padded to his bed in the corner. “Then you started your new life!”

Did you, though?

Achilles glanced over at Alex before his gaze drifted to the window behind, to the crack between the curtains where he could just barely make out the various swaying shadows of the bucolic valley he now called home. A deep inhale of the fresh, sweetly scented breeze drifting through quieted his thoughts and his self-doubts, and slowly made space for different sorts of sounds.

“You started your new life, and you honored your family name. Both of them, Robinson and Desrosiers. You did!” From beneath the covers, Alex squeezed his hand.

Yeah.

Yeah?

Yeah. I suppose I did.

But he had chosen to save the words inside his head, just a little something for himself, and after a minute, he felt Alex, impatient, rapidly tapping his chest with his pointer finger. “Hey, you are listening to me, right, you punk?”

Achilles couldn’t help but smile at the earnestness in his voice, and as he brought Alex’s fingers softly to his lips, he managed to murmur through his laugh, “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. I’m listening.”

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