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sunspray-peak · 1 year

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Ch. 21: Some Birthday, Huh?

TW: Suicidal ideation

SATURDAY - SUMMER 13

Part of Achilles had assumed Alex—allegedly a bit of a player and partier in his early college days (or as Haley less eloquently put it, “a giant-ass whore for both women and wine”)—would throw a rager of some kind for his birthday. Kegs and strobe lights, large speakers crackling out the latest Top 100 hits and the like. Not Achilles’ scene these days, but he’d suffer through it for Alex…

Then again, the other, probably larger, part of Achilles couldn’t quite reconcile the image of this supposed past Alex with the Alex he knew. Had he ever even seen Alex drink before? Perhaps the man had simply mellowed out since college. Regardless, to Achilles’ satisfaction, it was indeed this larger part of him that was rewarded as he promptly wandered down to the beach at 5pm to find a low key bonfire and barbecue in a flag-marked plot of sand.

“No alcohol.” Emily greeted him with a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade “Luau’s a special occasion, but otherwise, beach is supposed to be a sober zone. Not that anyone listens, but you know Alex is a stickler for the rules.”

So much for the rager. Achilles stepped to the side as another attendee made for the lemonade and juice stand. “So is that why Shane isn’t here, then?”

“Oh, Shane wasn’t invited. Although it is a public beach, I think he might actually be around, I thought I saw him earlier…”

Together, they craned their necks to examine the small evening crowd. Sure enough, there was Shane, only a few meters away from the area Alex had reserved, watching Jas stack some sand nearby. Sagging in his beach chair, his shirt tight across his gut, he held the usual contraband beer in one hand, an ice cream cone in the other.

It seemed that he could sense their stares, for after a minute, Shane turned to shoot them both dirty looks. Though Emily continued to watch, Achilles looked politely away to remark, “Lots of people from Zuzu, I suppose? College friends?” There hadn’t been too many friendly faces at the party so far—Emily, Haley, Evelyn, and George (two of whom scarcely qualified as friendly faces anyway), plus the Orange Grove receptionist, Megan, who had given him a quick hug upon his arrival.

Emily finally drew her furrowed gaze away from Shane to shrug. “Eh, it’s still early. Abigail and Co. was invited. Maru should be coming, but she’s still at the office, I think. Penny, too… oh, what’d you get him?” She nodded towards the small giftbox in Achilles’ hand. “Heigh ho! Looks like a ring. Thinking of proposing?”

“Yoba, Emily, the man hasn’t even bought me dinner, pump the brakes, will you?” Achilles returned drily, passing her the box with a little toss. “Nah, just some new earbuds… he’d mentioned his had broken.”

Emily closed her eyes as she weighed the box in her hand. “Hmm. I’m sensing some good energy from this.” With a little flourish, she handed it back. “And by that, I’m sensing that you got him the latest Pear Pods.”

“A thing like that, good guess—”

“$200. Pretty damn exorbitant for a guy you’ve known barely half a year, even if you are—”

“Yoba, not this again—all right, listen— ” But unlike Leah back in the Spring, Emily cut him off with a hearty, good-natured laugh as they made their way towards Alex who, at the moment, was surrounded by his Zuzu friends.

“Right. So what did you get him then?”

“Nothing.” Emily gave a disconcertingly Haley-like hmph at Achilles’ furrowed brow. “Well, that’s what the card said.”

“What? What card?”

“You didn’t get an invitation?”

“I don’t think so, he just invited me, I don’t know, verbally.”

“Oh weird, he was making such a big deal out of hand writing them, mailed them out like two weeks ago.”

Oh, so it had been mailed… that explained it. Before the Luau debacle, Achilles had opened his mailbox only once so far this season (in search of another lost package). He had come across a royalty check for Apparition (ridiculous, these were supposed to be directly deposited) and in the subsequent foul mood, had dumped all the mail (including the check) into the bin without a second glance.

Glorious job, you dumb bastard. You don’t bring a gift when you should, you bring a gift when you shouldn’t… stupid mistakes, it shouldn’t be this hard…

He had just decided to shove the wrapped gift back into his windbreaker and slide it to Alex later when they had a more private moment, when Haley, who must’ve seen the bright green bow, pointedly exclaimed, “My, my, my, Achilles, what did you get for our birthday boy?”

Immediately turning red—from rage or embarrassment, he wasn’t quite sure at the moment—Achilles shrugged and had no choice but to walk through the little crowd that had parted, too aware of the curious eyes that followed him.

Approaching the aforementioned birthday boy, Achilles forced a semblance of confidence into his voice. “I apologize, I… did not check my mail and didn’t realize…”

Alex, a paper birthday crown askew on his head, gave him a rather tight half hug, which likely managed to turn Achilles perhaps one shade redder (though luckily, the scarlet, soon-to-be-setting sun disguised the flush). “Nooo! Ash, your presence was supposed to be the present, didn’t you read the card?”

“Well, I’ve already bought it and wrapped it so might as well… open it later will you?” he muttered as he handed it over. “I feel rather stupid now.”

“Sure, sure—thanks, man! You really didn’t have to, though.”

Again, Achilles shrugged, though he at least accompanied this one with a tight smile. Under Haley’s disconcertingly watchful gaze, he made to head back towards Emily, but Alex held him back.

“Wait, let me introduce you! Achilles—Tanya, Leo, James—Megan you already know, of course— they all work with me at Orange Grove. Everyone, this is Achilles! He moved to the valley last month, he’s great.”

Out of habit, Achilles swapped his grimace for the default smile he had once kept reserved for work as he shook everyone’s hands. Tanya he recognized as the haughty brunette who often lifeguarded with Alex. Good to put a name to the face, he supposed.

“You’re the writer,” she said, arching a rather immaculately sculpted eyebrow.

“Ah.” It would be too much effort to correct her. “Sure.”

“Ohhh yeah! Megan mentioned you—Alex was so excited when he found out you were moving to town!” It was Leo, whose curly dirty blonde hair and warm, hazel eyes suggested he must’ve been Megan’s brother.

“I’m glad someone was, you know, he was the only who could pronounce my name correctly…”

It took only a minute for him to get back into the rhythm of conversing with strangers. The Zuzu Crew was (mostly) a friendly bunch, easy to ease into. James was a bit serious, but Megan and Leo were quick to laugh, and Emily soon joined him, replacing Alex who (trailed by Tanya) left to greet Abigail, Sebastian, and Sam.

Hamburgers and hot dogs and potato salad tied them over for an hour, but just as the sun began its descent, someone—to Achilles’ horror—suggested a game of beach volleyball.

Fucking athletic people…

Alex, naturally, was one team captain and James the second. As the two began to rock, paper, scissors for who got first pick of their teammates (Alex staunchly believing it wouldn’t be fair for him to get first pick just because it was his birthday), Achilles scurried over to Emily. Playing with just Abigail, Sam, and Alex was one thing, but in front of all these sporty Zuzu folk? He hadn’t played beach volleyball in probably a decade.

“Are you playing?” he asked.

“Oh yeah!” Seeing the desperation in his eyes, however, she quickly added, “Haley’s not though, if you want to sit with her.”

Haley shot them both a rather disdainful look from the edge of the tiki torch fence.

Soon enough, James had called Emily onto his team (leaving Achilles alone with Haley and, despite not actually wanting to play, slightly offended at having not been picked).

“Oh, are you photographing?” Achilles glanced at the film camera in her hand. “How nice, I always wish I had more physical pictures around.”

“I’ve been photographing,” she sniffed.

Just as Achilles decided Penny would likely make for much better company, he heard his name called.

“Ash! You’re on my team!”

Achilles whipped around. Alex had the volleyball sandwiched under his arm, just like the night of the luau. It was so casual, so unposed, so… simple. So why on earth was it so damn entrancing?

Chill, dude…

“Oh. Or not.” Alex tilted his head, taking in Achilles’ hesitation. “You playing?”

“Yeah, he’s playing.”

Achilles whipped back around to his side. It was Haley who had answered for him. Deadpan, she raised her camera to snap a close-up photo of his tight lipped frown before nodding him towards Alex. “Go on. Go away.”

Well if Alex wanted him…

“You just hate my company that much, huh, Haley?” Achilles didn’t wait for an answer before jogging over to Alex, Tanya, and Abigail’s side of the court.

Sam joined James, Emily, Leo, and Megan, while Maru (who had arrived just in time) rounded out Alex’s team.

It was ultimately a better experience than anticipated. A few haphazard passes and awkward dives notwithstanding, it didn’t take too long for him to get back into some sort of groove—his years playing tennis and fencing had, at the least, honed faster than average reflexes.

Summers he had spent whacking the ball back and forth in the back of his high school friends’ beach houses must’ve whacked a semblance of the game into his muscle memory, and after a few serves (and after getting used to Haley’s persistent camera clicking), one could say he was giving somewhat more than he got.

“Damn Achilles, James should’ve picked you instead of Leo’s lazy ass,” Megan called from the other side after her brother failed to return a spike from Achilles over the net.

Achilles pushed his hair back, surreptitiously wiping sweat from his brow. Did other people just not sweat as much? He risked a quick glance at Alex—how was he reacting to Megan’s praise?—and found the birthday boy grinning widely back at him, his hand raised. He supposed the celebratory high five was an innocent enough reason to smile back.

They won by a margin of two points. To his slight annoyance (a stupid, illogical, annoyance he knew, but he couldn’t help it), he hadn’t been the star player by any means (who knew Abigail was so good at beach volleyball?). But he hadn’t been the worst either (though at least a bruised Maru wasn’t a sore loser, accepting Alex’s sympathetic pat on the back with a cheery nod).

“How the hell are you so good at this? You should join my club team, we practice every week, compete on Thursdays.” It was James, who had sidled up to Abigail as the group made their way back towards the bonfire where Evelyn and George had returned a few minutes ago, a homemade cake in their hands.

“Hey yo! Honestly? No idea. Don’t really spend much time out here.”

“I was wondering that, too, you’re… really pale… great arms, though.”

It was Sebastian who shot James a rather affronted look for that last comment. He gripped an unoffended Abigail’s pale, but apparently muscular, arm protectively, and led her towards the opposite end of the table Haley and him had help set up during the game.

Tanya had taken the place next to Alex, clutching his arm and pulling him rather close. Was there something going on between the two? Surely it wasn’t jealousy Achilles was feeling—he was past that now, and what was there logically to be jealous of, anyway. Maybe he was just hungry…

Haley, Achilles was amused to at least see, was unabashedly rolling her eyes and tutting at the sight as she helped Evelyn set the cake down. Achilles couldn’t help but feel a small flurry of satisfaction watching the blonde, without a trace of shame, shove Tanya to the side under obviously false pretenses of getting a better angle for a photo.

“Happy 25th Birthday, Alex!” Alex read the cheery yellow words aloud and gave his grandma a hug.

One rather pitchy but enthusiastic birthday song later, Alex cut the cake, giving the first piece to Evelyn and the second to George. Achilles—purposefully or not, he would never admit to himself the truth—strayed to the back of the line so that no one was waiting behind him.

“Tanya’s uh, she’s really pretty,” he couldn’t help but say, as Alex cut him a corner piece.

Bitch, why do you even care? Ugh.

“Hmm?” Alex looked over at the brunette who was now in deep conversation with Megan and Leo. Easily in his line of sight, she caught his glance and, with a small bat of her eyelashes, gave a little flutter of her fingers. Alex smiled back. In fact, he looked rather dazed—perhaps some would call it lovestruck—but to Achilles’ surprise, the words that left his mouth were, “Sure! You interested? Happy to wingman.”

“Alex, I’m gay.”

George, who had wheeled over to grab a napkin, gave a tiny start, but Alex didn’t notice.

“Ope. Oh yeah, sorry, I knew that. Forgot…” He set the knife down and licked his fingers.

They turned and looked back at Tanya again, who, now aware she was possibly being watched, flipped her ponytail to her other shoulder to provide a better view of her profile.

“I thought maybe you… were interested?” Achilles asked, carefully watching Alex’s face. Well, you’ve already opened the door, might as well fully commit, you pathetic little bastard…

“Me?”

Achilles speared the vanilla sponge with his fork with more menace than Evelyn’s fluffy recipe deserved. Chill. “Or, at least, she’s definitely interested in you.”

“Tanya? Nah, I don’t think so—”

“My dude.” He swallowed his bite. “She is all over you.”

“That’s just Tanya,” Alex said with a shrug. “She’s been like that since we’ve met.”

“Because she’s always been into you, you dumbass.” Haley had joined the fray. “Though all she’s got going for her is a nice nose…”

“You think so, too?” Alex sounded genuinely surprised.

“Her nose or that she’s into you? Yoba knows why, given how dense you are…”

“Hey now—“

“Shoot your shot, man,” Achilles said. Masochistic little shit, you.

“Do you think I should?”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Haley, I know how you feel—”

“Why are you asking me—”

“—why are you asking him—”

“Well Achilles is the one telling me to do it!”

Haley rolled her eyes and cut herself another slice of cake. “Men. Come on, Alex,” she grasped his arm with her perfectly polished nails and dragged him over to, not Tanya, Achilles noticed, but Abigail.

Which left Achilles alone at the table with Alex’s grandpa.

“George,” Achilles said with his usual nod.

George glanced up. “A gay, huh? How can two men get married?” He began to roll away. “I’ll tell you, it’s unnatural… hmmph. I guess I’m just ‘old fashioned’…”

“Thank you for that, George,” Achilles drily called after him before also gliding over to Abigail. But despite whatever riveting monster history story she was in the middle of telling, Achilles found it suddenly difficult to concentrate.

*****

The party ended an hour or so after cake, on account of Alex’s grandparents and the clouds that were beginning to roll in. The Zuzu folk headed out first. Tanya—who must’ve been emboldened by nothing but the dusk given Alex’s commitment to the beach’s zero alcohol policy—even kissed Alex on the cheek as they bid him farewell and happy birthday, leaving Haley to once again roll her eyes as Alex mouthed a conciliatory, “Ok, I get it,” towards her and Achilles.

Achilles was just about to head out himself, after helping the rest of the Stardew folk clean up the tables, when Alex pulled him aside privately, his grip sending an electric flutter up and down Achilles’ arm.

“Man… you really didn’t have to get me these.” He was holding up the Pear Pods and Achilles’ note written methodically on light green linen cardstock (he’d never admit he had taken inspiration from Mayor Lewis—hey, but who could say Lewis hadn’t taken inspiration form Achilles’ farmhouse paint job). “Seriously, it’s a lot, you shouldn’t have…”

Stumbling over Alex’s wide-eyed, lash-framed gaze, Achilles deflected with a twist of his neck. “Remember, I’m rich, so don’t think this means I think you’re special.”

Alex chuckled. “No, I’m serious, Ash. Thank you. This is… a lot, I feel like I really shouldn’t…” He made a gesture as if to hand them back.

“Well I wasn’t going to get you shitty $30 headphones, might as well not get you a pair at all. You have to invest in the good stuff. If you can. Also,” Achilles pushed the box back into Alex’s hands, his longer fingers closing briefly over Alex’s before he forced himself to let go. “Trying to return a gift without even giving it a chance? Kinda rude, man, how dare you.”

Alex laughed again, and Achilles felt that now-familiar surge of lightning careen up his spine.

Get over yourself! Friends. You’re just friends.

With a breathy sigh, Alex clasped Achilles’ shoulder firmly. “Well… you’ve got me there. All right then. Thanks, man. Really appreciate it.”

“Hey, 25’s a big year. Happy birthday.”

Alex smiled softly, glancing down at the box in his hands again before meeting Achilles’ eyes and grasping his forearm.

“I’m glad you moved here. And, you know, not just because I like your books—”

“No, it’s because I give really good gifts.”

“Nah, it’s actually because you play a mean game of beach volleyball.”

They both laughed, until Achilles, with a quick glance at the sky, made himself pull away. “Well, we better all head back… looks like it might rain in a bit.”

“Hey, you would know, weather boy.”

In standard Stardew fashion, Alex clapped Achilles on the back before jogging back to the remaining villagers to dish out final farewell hugs. Wishing them all another thank you, Alex bid them goodbye and began to push Mr. Old Fashioned George along the sand back to 1 River Road.

*****

Achilles decided he’d take the Cindersap route back home. The volleyball game had invigorated him somewhat, and, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Alex’s thank you even more so. Even Tanya’s clingy presence didn’t do much to dull his rather juvenile glee, especially given Alex’s seemingly lukewarm reaction to the whole affair.

High on the evening’s events, and figuring the rain likely wouldn’t come down for another hour or so, he decided to enjoy a brisk walk through the forest and enjoy his favorite, windy weather before heading back. It was beginning to cool down dramatically as the storm grew closer. Even better. Perhaps he’d stop by Leah’s, if the lights were on. Restless, he was, and eager to share his good mood with someone.

He could still feel Alex’s grip on his arm…

But Leah’s lights were off—either she was out or calling it an early night. Perhaps she was with Elliott… Achilles thought in cheery solidarity.

Instead, he walked along the river with a small bounce in his step, down to the abandoned house by the cliffs. He hadn’t felt this carefree in ages. Amazing what a good night with friends could do to alleviate his recent chronic anxiety. Maybe he’d see if the Wizard was in—wouldn’t mind hearing more about those bad spirits Evelyn had mentioned up in the mountains…

Lost in whatever fanciful thoughts and imagined scenarios with which he’d allowed himself to temporarily indulge, he was caught off guard when the first drops began to fall. No matter, it’d be scarcely a 20 minute jog back home.

But before he could turn back to Strawberry Farms, he heard a groan in the darkness.

“Hello? Who’s there,” he called, shining his phone light around the darkened path. Bears? Wolves? Spirits? “Oh, fuck.”

Sprawled on the ground, half hidden by salmonberry bushes, was Shane. His Joja hat had been tossed to the side and was smeared with dirt. A mass of empty beer cans were crumpled around him—he must’ve been here for awhile.

“Shane? What the fuck, man?”

Achilles knelt down, turning him over. The man groaned again, this time hiccuping as he managed a weak, “I’m sorry.”

“Man, you gotta get up, it’s starting to rain…”

“My life… it’s a pathetic joke… look at me, why do I even try…”

The rain was rapidly beginning to fall harder, and the first flash of lightning tore across the sky. In the brief light, Achilles saw the discarded remnants of even more beer cans and bottles dotting the grass.

“Shane, get up.”

“Only twenty fucking five and already doing more than I ever will…” Shane spat, and it took a moment for Achilles to realize he was talking about Alex. “I wanted to get into sports too, once, you know? But I’m too small and stupid to… to take control of my life… I’m just a p… piece of soiled garbage flittering in the wind…”

Shane burped, and Achilles, not nearly as patient with drunks as Alex had been that Spring night a month ago, weakly slapped Shane in the face in an attempt to sober him up.

“Very poetic, Shane, but we have to go.”

“I’ve been coming here often lately… looking down…”

Achilles glanced over to the cliffs—another streak of lightning flashed through the sky, illuminating the drop—and Achilles found his own stomach drop at both the sight and Shane’s words as the gravity of the situation began to fully hit him.

“Here’s a chance to finally take control of my life…” Shane continued to moan, cheek pressed into the mud. “These cliffs… but I’m too scared, too anxious. Just like always…”

“Fuck,” Achilles breathed again. He bent down in an attempt to lift Shane at least to a sitting position, but the man, bloated with beer and misery, was dead weight. He heaved, but Shane only buckled back to his knees. The rain was heavy, pouring down Achilles’ hair, down his face, half-blinding him.

“All I do is work, sleep, and drink… to dull the feelings of self-hatred. Why should I even go on? Tell me… tell me why I shouldn’t roll off this cliff fight now…”

Achilles wiped his face, his head bowed as the drops clattered sharply in his ears, drumming against his windbreaker. “Fuck, Shane…” It was pouring even harder now, the rain quickly soaking through every layer of clothing and washing away any last remnants of his good mood.

“The decision is your own,” he said, shaking his head slowly. Probably the wrong words to say, but he had, historically, always appreciated at the very least the illusion of agency… “You’re right, it fucking sucks. But… people care about you, man. I’m here for you. Jas loves you. Marnie loves you. ”

“Jas…” Shane growled, his voice barely loud enough to be heard above the storm. “She’s probably better off without me… missed her fucking dance recital yesterday because I couldn’t find someone to take my shift…”

“She knows you’re working to help support her,” Achilles argued back, letting whatever words spill out of his mouth, anything to keep Shane lucid and talking. “She loves you, Shane. Remember that.”

“Thanks… I appreciate that, I really do…”

The freezing deluge seemed to be sobering him up slightly, and with Achilles’ help, he finally staggered up.

“Achilles…” he hiccuped through glazed eyes, his arms bracing against Achilles’ sodden shoulders for support. “I think you should take me to the hospital now.”

With no car, and a now dead, wet cellphone, Achilles had no choice but to half-carry the man the two miles out of Cindersap and back to town. He could’ve stopped at Marnie’s—her light was on—but quickly tossed the idea. This wasn’t something he wanted to risk Jas seeing.

It was a long, slow walk, made all the more agonizing by the pouring rain and frigid temperature. So much for Summer. Lightning continued to rip the sky apart, the accompanying thunder near-deafening with each streak, but at least it helped illuminate the otherwise pitch black path.

Achilles was not a weak man, but Shane, while short, was still stocky and on the heavier side, and Achilles was already tired from the earlier volleyball game. Not a few times did they nearly careen into a tree or bush while plodding though the darkness. Every five minutes, they had to pause so that Shane, wheezing and dizzyingly nauseas, could take a brief break. But they finally made it, after a little over one painful hour, outside the hospital.

It had to have been nearly 11pm now—Achilles hammered on Harvey’s door while Shane sat slumped against the awning.

“HARVEY.” Achilles accompanied his fists with a yell, but his voice and furious knocking were lost under the thunder and the relentless rain.

“Just leave me, Achilles,” Shane managed to groan.

“And get indicted for manslaughter, yeah right,”Achilles managed to chatter out between clenched teeth. Yoba, he was soaked straight to the bone, he had only been wearing his windbreaker over a thin, short sleeve button down. His bare legs had turned numb ages ago.

“HARVEY,” he yelled again, holding the doorbell down with an ice cold finger.

He stumbled next door to Pierre’s—perhaps Abigail or someone was downstairs and could give him a phone. But no matter how he rang or pounded, the thunder was much too loud.

Thinking bitterly that Harvey needed a better system in case of emergencies, he once again went back to beating the door and doorbell, when he heard someone else’s voice through the rain.

“What the heck is going on?”

Alex and Dusty were racing across the cobblestones, both wearing bright yellow rain jackets. In his dazed mind, Achilles couldn’t help but hyper fixate on the rubber ducks that dotted Dusty’s little raincoat as the dog tugged his owner along with more strength than he had ever seen the geriatric mutt move.

“Achilles—Shane—? What are you two doing out here, you’re soaked—Dusty was howling his head off like ten minutes ago, wouldn’t stop until I took him outside—”

“Dusty’s got h-h-helluva lot better instincts than H-harvey, that’s for s-s-ure.” Achilles was shivering like mad. “R-ran into Shane at Cindersap, had t-t-o take him to Harvey’s, it’s a l-l-long story—you got a ph-phone?”

Luckily, Alex did have a phone now—an early birthday present from his grandparents—and after one of the longest minutes of his life, Harvey finally wrenched open his front door.

“What in the world—Achilles?” Harvey cried in alarm. The doctor was in his pajamas, but large headphones dangled around his neck.

“It’s Shane, d-doc,” Achilles said, rushing over to lift him up again. Harvey raced outside as well to help him and Alex carry the clammy, comatose man in.

The sudden blast of cold, dry air was nearly as bad as being outside. It took everything in Achilles to brace himself against the air conditioner as the three of them carried Shane to one of the beds at the back of the clinic. Achilles hadn’t even needed to explain the reason for the visit; the downpour hadn’t managed to wash away the thick scent of alcohol still clinging to Shane’s clothes and breath.

Once he was more or less toweled off, Alex left the room with Dusty, giving the remaining three some privacy.

“You’ll want to get changed, Achilles, and get out of those clothes—you can spend the night here if you need,” said Harvey as he quickly went to work on Shane.

Achilles shook his head; the clinic’s artificial cold had joined the rain in seeping into his bones. “I think I’d rather head back—just… t-take care of him?”

Harvey, who was swiftly setting up an IV, only nodded.

Achilles shook the water from his hair and stepped back outside before immediately wondering if he had made a mistake. But the door had locked behind him, and Harvey had been laser focused on Shane—probably best not to turn back around and disturb the doctor from the one who actually deserved his attention.

Taking a deep breath, he braced his aching body under the awning for one last sprint into the rain, when Alex suddenly popped up from around the side.

“Everything okay? Come back to my place, it’s closer—”

“Nah, it’s your birthday, man, and your grandparents—”

“Dammit, Ash, it’s a 10 second sprint. Come on.”

Dusty joined Alex in protest, pawing Achilles’ leg. At that moment, a north wind chose to slice through the air, sending rain and a freezing breeze towards him even from under the awning. Right. He’d take that as a sign—nodding, he sprinted alongside Alex and Dusty the couple hundred feet to 1 River Road.

*****

The AC luckily was not on at the Muller’s—thank Yoba for George and his achy joints…

Alex unclipped Dusty and gave him a thorough pat down with a rubber duck embroidered towel. The beagle mutt gave a slow shake and padded softly down the hall to Alex’s room.

“I can j-j-just… warm up here a b-bit and wait for the rain to d-d-die d-down,” Achilles heaved, unzipping his windbreaker and immediately regretting the cold that somehow snaked its way in.

“That rain’s not dying down anytime soon. Just stay the night, you can take a hot shower in my room, let me grab you something to drink — ”

“No, it’s all right, it’s your b-birthday. I’ll just air dry, stay on the c-couch, won’t be a m-minute—“

“Achilles, just shut up, man. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove.” Alex rubbed his hands down Achilles’ violently shivering arms—the impatient touch was much different from the ones earlier this evening, though Achilles was too numb to hyper-fixate over it regardless—and led him to his room. “Besides, we don’t even have a couch…”

He motioned for Achilles to take a seat at the desk chair, grabbed some items from the closet, and quickly popped into the bathroom.

“Left a towel for you in there and clothes—go ahead, I’m just going to tell grandma you’re here so she’s not confused.”

In Alex’s bathroom, Achilles stripped out of his sopping clothes with some degree of difficulty— they coldly clung like a second skin—and jumped into the shower, supremely grateful for the steaming water.

The shirt Alex had left behind had a badger on it. “Andrews” was emblazoned on the back, above some faded permanent marker signatures. His dad’s last name. Must’ve been from his high school swimming days.

When he came out, Alex was nowhere to be found. Toweling off his hair, he looked again at the bodybuilder pictures, the grid ball wallpaper, the plastic sports trophies, the children’s books—a time capsule of a 12 year old boy. Only the massive weights in the corner hinted that a 25 year old man lived in this room.

He took the seat by the desk again and examined the picture of Alex and his mother. She had also had brown hair, and there was something in her frozen smile that reminded Achilles of Alex’s. Her eyes, however, were blue. Not green… oh, what a glorious shade of green… he could feel himself nodding off… Every muscle in his body was sore, screaming for him to lie down. Oh, what he’d give for the heated mattress in his farmhouse…

He must’ve fallen asleep, for he nearly fell out of the chair with a jolt when Alex came back into the room.

“Just told Grandma you’re here,” he whispered, shutting the door softly. He glanced at Achilles who was dangling half-off the desk chair. “You can sit on the bed, you know.”

Achilles took the cup of tea Alex offered him. Lavender earl grey.

Fuck, you really are perfect…

“Everything okay with Shane?”

With a guilty start, Achilles remembered what had brought him here in the first place. Though he supposed, in his defense, he was feeling rather muddled in the head now. “Ah. Shane. Yes. He’s… I don’t know. He’s not in a good place.”

“Mmm…”

Neither was eager to say more. Achilles gulped down the tea faster than he would’ve liked to fill the silence; he was ready to keel over.

“Here…” Alex took the empty cup and nodded towards the bed. “Go on, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Where are you sleeping?”

“Huh? Uh… also on the bed. I mean, if that’s ok with you… if not, I’m happy to roll out the sleeping bag…” Alex had looked surprised at the question, and Achilles turned red.

“No, no, sorry, yeah, that’s fine, of course…”

He clambered awkwardly across the red duvet, pulling the covers down as Alex went to brush his teeth. Alex sure slept with a lot of pillows… he placed the body pillow in the center, before wondering if that was too aggressive, too presumptuous, and set it against the headboard. Instead, he scooted as far over to the edge as possible—although there was plenty of room with the full sized bed—and, despite being a back sleeper, turned so that he was facing the nightstand.

Blinking back sleep, he forced himself to wait until he felt the weight of Alex’s body join him on the mattress before finally closing his eyes.

“Some birthday huh,” he murmured as Alex turned off the lights.

“Eh, I’ve had crazier ones.” But Alex didn’t expand. He rolled over to face Achilles’ back and gave it a little poke. “Man, this takes me back to grid ball camp… you better not hog the sheets.”

“Don’t worry, I sleep hot…”

Fuck. Of course. Definitely muddled in the head. Achilles nearly groaned aloud as the realization washed over him. Alex had been an athlete. Sharing a bed had none of the subtext for him that it had had for Achilles, who had never had to share a bed in his life if he hadn’t wanted to—the schools and camps he had attended would never have needed to have the kids share a room, that was for sure. Adolescent sleepovers? Guest rooms and temporary mattresses galore.

Nevertheless, Achilles didn’t trust himself to turn around. With his luck tonight, he’d probably sneeze in Alex’s face. Or worse. But he could feel the other boy’s body heat from under the covers, and it took everything in him not to turn. Not to look, for even just a second.

He’s just your friend… you need to get over this ridiculousness.

He figured he’d doze off just as quickly as he had at the desk, but it was quite awhile after Alex’s breathing slowed (and Dusty’s snores erupted) before his idiotic nerves settled and he was finally able to fall asleep.

#llnks #sunspraypeak #stardew fanfic #sdv fanfic #stardew valley alex #stardew valley oc #sdv farmer #alex sdv

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sunspray-peak · 11 months

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Ch. 27: The Dance of the Moonlight Jellies

SUNDAY - SUMMER 28

Achilles had a late start the next morning, having stayed up all night writing. But even so, he found some time in his not-so-busy schedule to brave the aisles of Joja to purchase a radio and a dual battery and hand-powered lantern.

At least let someone who doesn’t go to bed at 7pm know you’re out there drifting about the Gem Sea, will you?

He stuck his note inside the shopping bag with a dramatic flourish witnessed by nobody before shoving his purchases into the Mullner’s mailbox and walking away with a satisfied dust of his hands.

*****

To a rather significant degree of surprise, Achilles had received a text that afternoon from none other than Shane asking if he wanted to head down to the beach with him and Jas for tonight’s festival.

He met the pair down by Marnie’s ranch (Marnie herself had gone down earlier to, supposedly, assist Lewis with the set up), and with a small nod, asked Shane, “How have things been?”

An empty beat filled only by the soft thump of Jas’ footsteps as she ran ahead. Shane watched her spritely sprint down the path before taking another moment to wipe his chin and responding with his usual sloppy shrug, “Not bad. Or at least, better, I guess…”

“Good. You look good.”

And he did. The bloat had almost entirely disappeared from Shane’s face and the hand grasping a can of cola was sure and steady. Even the bags under his eyes seemed lighter, and his stubble was as neatly shaved as Achilles had ever seen it.

“Welp… thanks.”

He had addressed the ground, but Achilles knew him well enough at this point not to take the lack of eye contact as a sign that Shane considered the conversation over. “Everything going all okay with Joja?”

“Buh.” Shane fiddled with the ties of his blue Joja hoodie—for someone who hated the company as much as he did, he sure provided them with plenty of free advertising. “Same old soul crushing crushing-ness… But I’ve gotten better at coping, that’s somethin’ right? Just taking it day by day…”

Soul crushing… Once again, those words seemed to ring a bell in Achilles’ head. But this time, now out of the hazy, pneumonia-clouded woods, he quickly recognized why the phrase was so familiar.

“That’s how I felt. At BRLO,” Achilles said, more for his own benefit and clarification than Shane’s. “It’s wild how different I felt after I quit… lighter…”

“Oh yeah?” Shane now turned to look beadily up at him. A small crunching noise revealed Shane had gripped the can of cola just a smidge tighter. “Welp… some of us don’t have that luxury…”

“Fuck, sorry, that’s not what I meant.” You idiot. But maybe he could redeem himself, for an idea had just struck him. Oh, perhaps he ought to take some time to think more about it… oh, who cares, why the hell not?

“Actually—well. Shane, you mentioned once you wanted to get into farming. I… clearly do not use my farm. Would you be interested in doing anything with it? I’d pay for any equipment, any seeds, you’d be free to use the land however. We could maybe split the profit, say… 65/35?”

Shane froze mid step. The can of cola in his hand completely crushed in his grip, rivulets trickling down his fingers.

Achilles had pulled the percentage out of his ass. This was what happened when one was impulsive… had he just offended Shane with his offer? What was a typical rate? “The 65 would go to you, just to be clear. I mean, if you don’t think that’s fair, I’m happy to negotiate—”

“No, that’s… Do you mean it?”

“Oh. Yeah, for sure. Of course. I’m not using any of it, and Pierre and Lewis are always giving me shit for “denying the valley fresh produce”—which, for the record, I don’t really understand, you’d think they’d be used to it since the Valley hasn’t had that since my grandpa moved out like 20 years ago… Just tell me what you need, come by anytime. Perhaps we can work out a schedule.”

“Ah yes. Maybe a Sacred To-Do List, too?”

It seemed Achilles wasn’t the only one with a good poker face, though Shane’s nostrils were still flaring slightly as the man struggled to hold back one of his usual one-note chuckles. Achilles shot him a goodhearted glare.

“Sure. Why not. Fall’s coming up tomorrow—I’ll actually be out all day, but just let me know what you need…”

Shane snorted and resumed walking, a new bounce in each of his steps. It was small—barely perceptible—but it was there.

“Thanks. This is great. Thanks a lot.”

*****

Alex had said the “Dance of the Moonlight Jellies” (who had come up with the name? Lewis?) wasn’t the most popular of festivals, but even so, the docks and beach were crowded with a still-impressive number of tourists. Mostly older folk, as Alex had mentioned, although Achilles also took note of the high percentage of nervous young couples.

“Over here!” came a cry.

They glanced over to Elliott who was waving to them both from one of the emptier docks.

“Best views over here reserved for townsfolk family and friends!”

They gently pushed their way through, stepping on a couple of toes in the process. Shane followed Jas to stand by Jodie and Vincent. Most of the villagers hadn’t yet arrived. Why bother, Achilles supposed, if their spots were reserved.

There was Pierre, his arm around Caroline, while Abigail huddled around a lantern with Sebastian and Sam. Penny was also there early, holding hands with a man Achilles didn’t recognize. Huh. Good for her.

Achilles made his way over to Elliott who clasped him on the back.

“This is my most favorite festival,” the man said. “The most glorious, majestic of sights… I had to arrive early to obtain for us the utmost, best seats on the dock. I’ve purchased lanterns here for us and Leah so we can make sure to get a prime look at the jellyfish. Water soluble they are, of course—all the lanterns for the event are. Specially designed by Miss Maru and Demetrius—we’ve got to keep pollution out of the sea!”

The sun began its descent and the beach continued to slowly fill up. Leah joined them shortly, but with her own custom decorated lantern, to Elliott’s slight chagrin.

Alex arrived, as Achilles knew he would, with Tanya, the two of them taking spaces behind Pierre and Caroline. Her arm was clasped tightly around his, although Alex, who Achilles had most definitely noticed awhile ago was generally a fairly touchy person, looked a little stiff. Though perhaps, he thought to himself with a wry smile, you’re overthinking it.

Haley, who had arrived shortly after them, caught Achilles watching the pair and shot him the most dramatic eye roll. Although whether that was at him or in solidarity with him (given her thoughts on Tanya)… with Haley, he was never quite sure.

Just as the sun disappeared over the horizon, a cascade of candlelight and accompanying gasps flickered across the edge of the docks and down the sandy shore, illuminating everyone and everything in a soft, warm glimmer.

Lewis cleared his throat and began to make his way towards a tiny stage that had been set up right by the water, a torch in his hand.

Elliott suddenly squeezed Achilles’ hand in anticipation. “Oh, this never fails to disappoint! Prepare your lanterns, my friend!”

Lewis had reached the shore where, after gesturing for everyone to quiet down, he untied a tiny boat—scarcely a foot long—with a candlestick inside, and set it off into the sea. At this signal, the lucky folks who had brought their own lanterns sent theirs drifting into the waters as well.

“Just a few minutes more,” Elliott whispered, “But they’ll be here soon! Oh, my dear friend, I cannot wait for you to see them!”

Achilles hadn’t shared that he had technically already seen them the day before—swam with them, actually. It would break his heart to spoil Elliott’s secondhand excitement. The man was now bouncing on his heels and clasping Achilles’ forearm in both his hands.

Eagle eyed Jas saw the first jellies bobbing from the horizon. Illuminated by the pale candlelight, their shimmering bodies flickered and glowed, ranging in colors from creamy white to pale blue to indigo and violet as they swam just inches beneath the waves. Gasps and oohs and aahs swept across the beach, but they quickly subsided as the onlookers moved to observe in wondrous silence.

Elliott had chosen a most perfect spot—they were as close as they could be, just a few feet away from the gentle jellies floating underneath their feet. Even through the cracks of the dock, Achilles could make out their neon luminescence.

It was beautiful. There was absolutely no denying that. A unique, shared moment of calm among a crowd as all observed the hypnotizing allure of the vibrant jellies’ slow, pulsating motion under the silvery light of the full moon.

And yet, Achilles couldn’t help think to himself, none of it quite captured the same magic he had felt swimming in the golden glow of yesterday’s sunset with Alex.

As if he heard his thoughts, Alex, whose arm was now around Tanya’s shoulders, broke his gaze from the waters to turn and catch Achilles’ eye.

In response, Achilles nodded to Tanya and flashed him an inquiring look, to which Alex merely winked and, grinning, gave a one shouldered shrug before turning back to the jellies. It was a brief interaction, just something small between them two. Nobody else seemed to have noticed it.

Well, at least not Elliott, that was for sure. The sight if the jellies was too much for the man, who, despite this being his fifth year of residence in Stardew Valley, had withdrawn a handkerchief and was now struggling to blow his nose softly.

“Oh how Mother Nature blesses us! It is all just… so beautiful,” he whispered to Achilles, a crack in his voice. “The romance of it all…”

Ah yes, the romance of it all. Achilles had to stop himself from laughing at the sight of Elliott dabbing his eyes, and instead snuck another glance at Alex and Tanya, who was now resting her head on Alex’s shoulder.

He had expected to feel irked at the sight, or, at the very least, a little sad. But instead, he felt… fine. Good, even. Perhaps last night’s peculiarly good mood hadn’t yet fully seen itself out.

He was, after all, never going to actually be with Alex—not in that way. He had known from the beginning, his feelings had been instinctual—as physical attraction often was. And even though he had since fallen in love now, well—he still didn’t think himself ready for a relationship, and the fact of that matter was, Alex was straight anyway.

Logically, there was no reason for any late night pining or journaled manifestations or heartfelt confessions. He had always refused to let his mind go anywhere down those paths—what was the point? No, there had only ever been a message in a bottle. Nothing more. Nothing reciprocated. And that was fine with him. Yes, Achilles was, for once, grateful for what he had here.

The festival was short, scarcely half an hour, for, as Elliott explained, they ought not disturb the jellies on their journey home for too long. And so, Achilles bid him farewell, returning to the farm by way of Cindersap with Leah, Shane, Marnie, and Jas.

His Summer of rest, relaxation, and recreation was over. He had learned how to swim. Nice! He had gotten pneumonia. Not so nice. Quite a few post it notes could be checked off with a smiley face.

He had had a whole season to stop and smell the flowers, and yet, he wasn’t sure what exactly, if anything, he had learned from it. The feeling of dread that had plagued him at the end of Spring was beginning to stir again. It was time for business, he supposed—although what the business would be, he still wasn’t entirely sure.

Perusing the notebook in which he had been scrawling his various “self-discovery” lists proved fruitless. There was simply nothing there with potential. Oh those lucky few, who were actually good at what they liked…

But a Summer’s worth of nothing had already been far too much nothing. It was time to cast aside any remaining delusions of grandeur and commit to at least something for the “meantime.” He had told Elliott that sometimes one ought to just plow ahead, even through the shit, to overcome writer’s block. Perhaps it was the same with life. Perhaps it was time to get a job.

Perhaps Camille could help him sort himself out. She was good at that, if you could get her to do it. Yes, he had, at the very least, concrete plans for tomorrow. Seeing her would be good.

All being said, he went to bed with relative peace of mind, given the circumstances, although the same couldn’t be said for his subconscious.

Was it simply simmering anxiety that was cause for the whispers and wraiths and shadowy figures that weaved through his nightmares that night? Or was it something else that was lurking in the wings of his mind as Summer quickly faded into Fall?

Ultimately, it didn’t matter—for when he woke the next morning to Shane knocking on his door at the crack of dawn, he had already long forgotten his dreams.

#llnks #sunspraypeak #sdv fanfic #stardew fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #aspec fanfic #stardew alex #sdv alex #alex stardew valley #sdv oc #stardew oc #sdv elliott #sdv shane

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sunspray-peak · 1 year

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Ch. 24: What-Ifs & What’s Nexts

SATURDAY - SUMMER 20

Between the bath bombs, Gus’ meals, George’s humidifier, and yes—Abigail’s gossip—he’d made a quicker recovery than both he and Harvey had anticipated. Still on the weaker end of things physically, of course—no way he was going to able to do any intense hikes without getting massively winded—but feeling good enough to at least get back into briskly walking, if not jogging, around the town.

Figuring early Saturday morning was as good a time as any, he dragged himself out of bed to head down to the beach for the sunrise, today’s paper in his hand. Salty sea air was good for the lungs, right?

Padding softly across the still-cold grains of sand (which probably were not good for the lungs), he made to take his usual seat close to the ice cream stands when a familiar green letterman down by the shore caught his eye.

Alex must’ve gotten to the beach even earlier. Perhaps a very early morning walk with Dusty, who was sniffing around the waves.

“Alex!” Achilles called, walking over. As he approached, he could hear a trace of tinkling music below Dusty’s greeting howls.

The boy looked up and returned the wave, though, Achilles noticed, with less enthusiasm than the former swimmer typically gave. “Hey, Achilles.”

Achilles took a squat next to Alex and gave Dusty a pat on the head. The tinkling tune was coming from a small silver music box by Alex’s feet where two tiny swans, necks bent to form a heart shape, rotated smoothly on a turntable in the center of an engraved platform.

“Hey, you feeling better? I’m guessing you’re not here for a swim lesson.”

“You guessed correctly. No longer indisposed, I am, thank you for the humidifier and cookies. But yeah, no swimming, unfortunately. Harvey wants me to take it easy for a bit. Just thought I’d get some sea air before the beach gets too crowded.”

“Seems like the beach has really grown on ya.”

Achilles shook his head at the ground, though he’d broken into an easy smile. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, I’m ditching this for Sunspray in a few days…”

Alex nodded wordlessly, and returned to tracing patterns in the sand, while Achilles turned to the day’s crossword. 11 letter word for an “element of 1990s fashion.” Where was Emily when you needed her…

“My mom died 12 years ago today.”

Achilles dropped his pen with a tiny sound of alarm he tried to turn into a cough, but Alex paid him no mind. Or perhaps he simply hadn’t heard the squeal.

“After this year, I’ll have lived longer without her than with her, you know… it’s kind of a weird feeling. I don’t remember too much from before Stardew, but I still remember her pretty well… she’d make salted radish sandwiches for lunch and toss the grid ball with me in the backyard.”

“Salted radish sandwiches?”

“Yeah,” Alex said with a laugh. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” He leaned back, his hands digging into the sand just as the sun began to bleed into the sky.

“When she got sick… or, I guess, when we sort of knew the end was coming, we came back out here to be with Grandma and Grandpa. She loved being by the beach, so we’d roll out here to watch the sunrise every morning. Sunset every evening. I’d swim in the sea, and she’d laugh, throw the ball back and forth with me and Dusty. All the way up until things got really bad. It’s dumb, but I like to think she held on until after my birthday on purpose…

“She took good care of me… and I, of course, was too young to really say ‘thanks.’” He sighed, scratching under nose in what may have been a subtle attempt to dissuade any tears. The tenor of his voice, however, had remained steady. “And now she’s gone forever.”

Alex slid the music box towards Achilles and gave the little tab at the back a twist. The swans once again began to twirl to the delicate chimes.

“This is the only keepsake I have left of her, you know. And my watch. It’s not much, but, it’s something.” His fingers traced the burnished gold trim.

As the song neared its end, Achilles fiddled with his pen, preemptively anxious to fill the approaching silence but unsure of what to say. He had never been good at these sorts of things. He had been fortunate. Loss like this had never touched him.

“She… sounds like a great woman.”

Dear Yoba, that was stupid.

Achilles attempted to turn his instinctual face palm into a more deliberate motion, rubbing his nose with the pads of his fingers. “All you can do is… your best. To honor her memory.”

Man, that wasn’t much better, you sad bastard.

But Alex laughed in appreciation, though it was light and followed by a heavy sigh that he seemed to draw from deep within the sand. “You know, I always told her I’d go pro. I was convinced I was going to play for the Tunnelers. And before you laugh, let me remind you, I was 10. I mean, ok, you can laugh. My mom laughed. But she’d, like, never put me down or anything. And I must’ve been an annoying little turd, I never shut up about it… but she was always supportive.”

Alex paused to swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he craned his neck to look out across the water at the rising sun.

“I don’t know if I ever told you this—I probably did—but I used to be a swimmer.”

Achilles only nodded.

“It wasn’t grid ball, but I did actually nearly go pro. But it ended up… falling through, kind of… grandma got sick and stuff… I just wish…”

Achilles remembered. Evelyn had gotten ill, then George. Alex had had to quit. Return home.

“I’m sure your mom would still be very proud of you,” he offered. Nice. Safe. Good one.

But Alex turned to look at him, green eyes rolling, skepticism weighing heavily in a delicately cocked eyebrow as he let his head fall dramatically to the side. “You of all people—you come to me on the anniversary of my mother’s death and you just lie to my face like that?”

“What?” He’d been mentally patting himself on the back, and now Achilles was scrambling up from the sand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Alex laughed—a genuine laugh, but there was the barest hint of bitterness to it all the same. He shut the music box, still sitting on the shore. “I mean, would you be proud of me? You—I mean, you’re not even satisfied with being a Ferngill Time’s Bestselling author six years in a row. What does it take for you to be proud? To be, I don’t know, satisfied?”

Achilles squirmed. “Well, people are… wired differently, I suppose. Some people are… naturally more ambitious, motivated by their pride—to the point of detriment, might I add—while others…” Are lazy?? Fuck, what are you saying? Stop talking!

“Do you think less of me? Because I’m not like that?”

“What? No.” Achilles’ nose was beginning to twitch… he turned away from Alex and retreated to the water’s edge, hands balled up into fists in his windbreaker’s pockets. The sun had nearly risen above the horizon now. The dawn of yet another unproductive day. “I… wish I was more like you.”

From behind, Achilles heard Alex snort, but the swimmer joined him a few seconds later to stand by the water.

“I wasn’t lying,” Achilles murmured. “I think your mom would be proud of you.”

“What’s there to be proud of?” Alex aimed a small kick at a clump of sand. “Hey, now don’t get me wrong, I’m not… bitter about what happened. Or angry. My grandparents have done a lot for me, and I’ll always be grateful. It’s just… you know. Funny. How things turn out… I think my mom just wanted me to be happy.”

“Are you happy?” It was a loaded question, a heavy one that slipped out.

Alex shrugged. “I don’t think I’m unhappy. I like my job, I like my coworkers, I like my friends. I like living in the Valley. I mean, what is there to dislike or complain about in my life, you know? Just sometimes, you know… you can’t help but think about the what-ifs. What if my dad hadn’t been a piece of shit? What if my mom hadn’t died? What if my grandma hadn’t gotten sick? What if my grandpa hadn’t been in a wheelchair?

“All my—what was the fancy word you used?—ambitions? Goals? They’ve always gotten blown up by something or another, and I guess I’ve just learned it’s better to just let life happen to you.”

It was the complete opposite ideology that Achilles had been raised and lived his life by—better to let life happen to you? What-ifs, instead of what’s nexts? How—what—why—

Once again, Alex, who had been watching a whole medley of vaguely nauseated emotions flit across Achilles’ face as it struggled with digesting this unfamiliar philosophy, laughed. “Listen, I know I probably sound like a lazy son of a gun—especially to you—but I don’t know. I’m… fine, I think. With my life. Being a fitness instructor. A lifeguard. Living with my grandparents. You know. Nothing fancy, but that’s fine. And I think my mom would be happy that I’m happy.” He paused. “I just don’t think she’d be proud.”

He stooped to clip Dusty’s leash back onto his collar. The sun had long risen. It was time for Alex to head to Orange Grove.

#llnks #sunspraypeak #stardew fanfic #stardew alex #alex stardew valley #stardew valley fic #sdv oc #sdv farmer #stardew valley oc #my fic #sdv fanfic

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sunspray-peak · 1 year

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Ch. 22: Hallucinations & Hauntings

SUNDAY - SUMMER 14

When Achilles woke, it was to the smell of soup and the—blessed be—warmth of sunlight grazing his face. This was the only time he was grateful all bedroom windows seemed to face east in this town. The sun after a storm was always a special kind of sun, something more… precious. Something a little more kind.

A blurry glance at the digital clock told him it was nearly 11am. Yoba, he hadn’t slept this much in years. But his body had clearly needed it. Every limb was a tightly coiled spring—stiff, unable to stretch even the slightest amount. His nose was running; he managed to spot the tissues on the nightstand just in time before a quick series of five, obnoxiously loud, sneezes spewed from his nose. Moving even the slightest bit felt like trying to bend steel, but with a groan, he managed to sit himself upright.

“Morning!”

Had he been sitting for a minute or an hour? Achilles slowly raised his head to see Alex walking towards him with yesterday’s clothes, warm and fresh from the dryer, and a bowl of scrambled eggs and pancakes.

“How ya feeling?”

“Miserable.” The word had been lodged in the depths of a scratchy throat.

“Yeah, heard you sneezing.” Alex placed the items on the desk and, biting his lip, held the back of his hand against Achilles’ forehead. A near-nauseating swoop rushed his stomach at the cool touch. If he wasn’t hot before, he must’ve been now.

“Well you don’t have a fever…” Or apparently not. “That’s good news, right?”

“Hmm…”

“You can eat in here, no rush. It’s Sunday so I gotta head down, just wanted to make sure you were ok. Snored almost as bad as Dusty last night with that stuffed nose of yours, I thought you’d suffocate.”

Achilles burned even redder, if that was at all possible, but he didn’t have the energy to fight it, managing to choke out, “Thanks again for letting me stay the night.”

“Yeah, no problem. It’s Dusty you really have to thank, he knew something was up, didn’t you, Dusty?” Alex gave the old beagle a hearty scratch behind the ears. “Hey, I’ll try to stop by later—but maybe visit Dr. Harvey if you don’t feel any better?”

“Do I look that bad?”

“Nah, you look great. But you never know, better safe than sorry, right? I’ll see you around, okay?”

It was an unceremonious goodbye, but then again, what did Achilles expect.

He managed to finish the pancakes and the eggs—they were awfully good—before slowly changing and shuffling out the bedroom and down the hall.

Looking to his left, he saw George determinedly ignoring his hello—you’d think the old geezer thought being gay was contagious—as he watched some black and white western on the TV. To the right he found Evelyn in the kitchen, watering some houseplants.

“Evelyn, thank you so much for breakfast and for letting me stay the night.” As difficult as it was to force his arms above his waist, courtesy demanded he move to wash his dishes in the sink. Perhaps part of him hoped Evelyn would take the bowl from him, but if so, he was disappointed.

Instead, she turned from her mixing bowl to pat his lower back and said, “Oh that was all Alex, my dear, we’re just glad to see you safe! I do hope Shane is doing all right…”

“I’m sure Harvey’s taking good care of him.” Achilles placed the dishes in the drying rack right before delivering another rapid succession of sneezes.

“Oh dear.” Like Alex, Evelyn placed her cool hands against his forehead. “Perhaps you should see Harvey yourself.”

“I’m sure it’s just a cold,” Achilles said, taking a rapid step back. Best not risk getting Alex’s grandparents sick, even if it was just a cold. “But I’ll not trespass on your hospitality any longer, thank you again.”

“Of course, dear! You let Alex know if you need anything, now.”

After receiving a very Shane-like grunt from George in lieu of a proper goodbye, Achilles left River Road and made the slow walk back to the farm, managing to (thank Yoba) not bump into any of those pesky overly talkative townsfolk. Really all he wanted to do was get straight back and sleep in his own bed.

But lo and behold, as he passed the “Strawberry Farms” sign Leah had painted for him what seemed like ages ago, he made out a squat little someone slouched on his porch.

Shane waved—small, halfhearted. Embarrassed.

“Been waiting all morning for you,” he mumbled as Achilles drew closer. The dark bags under his eyes and scraggly, unshaven beard were aging him more than ten years; his face was still slightly bloated.

Achilles raised an eyebrow, and would’ve scoffed had his stuffed nose and increasingly sore throat allowed it. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, agh, sorry, that’s not what I meant…” Shane looked at his beat up sneakers, his hands visibly fidgeting in his pockets. “Buh… oh man… how do I say this…

“I wanted to um… I’m really sorry about what happened at the cliffs. That was… embarrassing…”

Achilles sighed, softening at the apology, and sat down on the porch steps, laying his head in his palms. “Well. I’m just… happy you’re still here, man.”

“Huh, it was that serious? I can hardly remember…” Shane shuffled his feet, his hands still in his pockets. “Harvey told me you carried me through Cindersap through the rain and stuff… thanks…”

Achilles shrugged and sighed again. He wasn’t capable of much more in his current condition. “Of course. Right place, right time. Couldn’t just leave you there.” He of all people was familiar with that sentiment. Yoba, this whole situation was hitting a little too close to home… but at this moment, he was (perhaps thankfully) too exhausted to dwell on it.

Shane nodded, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “It all just… sucks, you know? My hours got cut again… forgot Jas’ birthday last week… and yesterday… seeing Alex… you know what I’m talking about, so I can say this, but…” A pink tinge flushed across Shane’s cheeks. “He’s just everything I’m not, ya hear? Everything I once wanted to be. All those friends. Athletic. Nice. Good looking kid. Tall… and doesn’t need a beer to have a good time…”

Achilles did get it. There was something about Alex—his enthusiasm, his confidence, his laid-back attitude—it wasn’t difficult to see why it’d inspire envy.

“I got to change, I know it.”

It was Shane’s turn to sigh, a heavy one through his nose. With great effort, he continued.

“I’ve decided I want to see a therapist. Harvey got me in touch with a colleague of his.”

This made Achilles look up. “Oh. That’s great, man.”

Shane grimaced and turned to go. “Should be… good. Anyway… I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me. And I… want you to know that I’m going to take things a little more seriously from now on. Want you and Emily to uh… hold me accountable, if you can. I don’t want to be a burden on anyone…”

“You’re not a burden to anyone, Shane. Your family and friends care about you.”

Shane nodded slowly, as if digesting the words that tasted so bitter to Achilles even as they came out of his mouth.

“Well… thanks, again. Time for the daily soul crushing at Joja now…” he said with a weak attempt at a joke. Something in his choice of words rang a bell in Achilles’ brain, but it was still far too clouded with exhaustion for him to make sense of any greater meaning Shane’s phrasing may have contained.

Once Shane’s blue hoodie had disappeared to the south, Achilles gathered his strength and stumbled into his cottage. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that Alex’s assessment of him “looking great” had been nothing but a lie—the circles under his eyes rivaled Shane’s, not to mention the dried rivulets of snot and crusty ass tumbleweed on his head. Man, this was as Shane as he could get. Definitely not a look he wanted to emulate.

Why can’t you ever look hot in front of Alex? Fuck.

But this wasn’t the time for vanity. He sloshed some water on his face, before deciding there wasn’t energy for anything more, and collapsed on his bed. He’d order delivery from the saloon later…

*****

Sometime in the early afternoon, he woke atop the covers in a cold sweat. Shivering and dazed, he stumbled out of bed to his bathroom cabinet, desperate to find some medication he vaguely knew, in his hazy mind, wouldn’t actually be there. Of course—he hadn’t bought a first aid kit, or any medication really, like the idiot he was, but was it medicine he needed or something else…

Panic was rushing through his veins as his fingers stumbled over boxes of bandaids and bottles. Something was coming… he could feel them whisper at the back of his mind… he should’ve known, he should’ve been more prepared. He had to stop it, fast.

Finding nothing—as he knew he would—he staggered over to his cell phone, forgetting it had all but seized up in the downpour.

He was on his own. There was no way he was going to make it to Harvey’s, and besides, as the logical (or perhaps, illogical) part of his burning mind thought, Harvey deserved a day of rest after having to deal with Shane. The real question was why Stardew had only one doctor…

There was a sudden knock on the door. Firm, hard, a single crack of knuckles against the heavy frame. It echoed, and a shiver ran up his spine, like the feeling of cold, dripping rain.

He teetered back to his bed, desperately hoping it was the wind, or maybe an errant bear—he needed a dog. Maybe he’d borrow Dusty. What was he doing, living out in the semi-wilderness completely and utterly alone. But he knew it was something else. Something worse.

The knock came again. This time sharper, higher, but similar to the first. A singular sound against the wood.

Achilles crouched under the covers. Eyes closed tightly, a low cry just escaping from his lips.

The post-knock silence gave way to a heavy pounding. Thunderous, like horses galloping, he could feel the vibrations snaking from the door along the wooden floors, shaking the bed ever so slightly with each thunk against the frame. Whispers began to creep through the walls, whispers in his head, in his mind.

His aching fingers were shaking as he struggled to grab his pillow for something to clutch on to. Cold sweat rapidly transformed into an inferno as his fever switched tactics.

Someone (or something) continued to pound on his door. He strained to keep the noise out, hands plastered against his ears, but even still, he could make them out… voices, low, angry… An avalanche of coughs from deep within his chest was clamoring to spew out, but he kept them down, silent tears and sweat streaming from his pores in their stead. On and on it went, for what could have been an hour. What could have been a minute,

And then. All was silent. Just the scratch of a tree blowing gently against his window.

But this was not the time to surrender his guard.

There was the slightest whine. A creak. Then a cool breeze that shimmied its way under the covers where Achilles was hiding, grazing his clammy skin.

And in the moonlight that now seemed to be streaking through his room, he could see illuminated the shadow of a hand, coming closer and closer. A face leaning towards him, passing through his comforter just as he knew, deep inside him, it would. Long and wrinkled and smiling with bloodshot, blacked out eyes and giant, pointed teeth. Worms wriggling out from holes in dry, grey skin.

Even with his eyes closed, he could see it. The face lying next to him. Horrific shadow figures melding through the walls, circling his bed. Slime oozing through the windows. Serpents screeching as they wrapped their tails around his arms, pinning him to the bed frame. And all throughout, that multi-layered whisper tickling from the back of his mind.

Achilles, they said.

He had to get out. He wrenched the covers back, hands slick with sweat, and staggered blindly to his feet. A box—he had to find the box, where were they coming from—if he could just find it, destroy it, he could stop it all, he could end this, where was it, where was it? He could see it, there in his head—a metallic, lilac little thing, but where was it.

The whispers turned to screams. He was paralyzed—make it stop, why wouldn’t it stop—

And then he woke up.

*****

He felt his own forehead. Drew no conclusion, but figured, from his sore throat, chills, and massively aching muscles, that he must still have some degree of fever. A lower grade one now, for sure, but still perhaps a cause for concern…

His phone—lying on his nightstand—was still useless.

But just as he had resigned himself to his pathetic fate, there was a knock at the door.

He painstakingly shuffled over to unlock it, pulling it just a smidge open to find, with the smallest modicum of delight, Dr. Harvey standing on his porch. The sun was still shining. He must not have been asleep for long.

“You,” Achilles said thickly, already making his way back to bed, “Are just the man I wanted to see.”

Dr. Harvey chuckled. “I thought so. Alex stopped by earlier to tell me you weren’t looking too good this morning, he shared you weren’t answering your door. I thought it’d be a good idea to check in on you. Here, let’s take a seat…” He unfolded a stethoscope.

Alex had stopped by? Perhaps that had been the knocking in his dream…

*****

“102.3 degrees,” Harvey popped the thermometer out of Achilles’ mouth. The last procedure, Harvey had been quite thorough. “I’m glad I came.”

“Must’ve been even worse earlier this afternoon.” Achilles coughed. “I was hallucinating.”

Dr. Harvey frowned, making a note in his little pad. “Tell me more about that.”

“I’ve always hallucinated with bad fevers, though,” Achilles quickly added, though never had they been this vivid before. “That’s not anything new, just, like, nonsensical shit… ” But at Harvey’s urging, he shared the details of his horrifying encounter earlier that afternoon.

“—of course looking back you’re always like ‘you were hallucinating.’ But of course you forget that at the time. Think it’s all real…”

“The brain is a remarkable thing,” Harvey nodded, finishing up his notes. “For better or for worse… Now I believe you may have pneumonia, but I won’t be able to confirm until the blood results come back—you must have been hypothermic being out in the rain for so long. It likely weakened your body, and may have made you more susceptible.”

Yeah and whose fault was that, ya bastard.

“I’ve got some antibiotics for you here. Be sure to drink plenty of fluids. You may want to give Gus and Pierre a call, I want you to take it easy.”

“Phone’s dead, doc.” Achilles erupted into another coughing fit. “Tried charging and it didn’t work.”

“Ah. Well I can pass on any requests if you’d like.”

Harvey handed him a pen and paper, and with an unsteady, dragging hand, Achilles wrote “I hate cucumbers.”

“Not too picky, are we?”

Achilles shrugged, crawling back under the covers.

Harvey tucked his notepad into his front pocket and stood, his work here done for now. “Now, a hot bath may also be good, it can help open up your airways.”

“Perfect,” Achilles mumbled from his pillow.

“Take care of yourself, Achilles. I’ll be back with additional medication—perhaps we can leave the front door unlocked and I’ll leave it on your nightstand if you’re asleep? The Valley is a safe place.”

“Mmhm.”

Achilles’ hacking cough felt oddly more comfortable sleeping on his side, arms clutching a pillow for dear life, and with his back against the wall, he managed to just catch a glimpse of a trio of junimos scurry inside as Harvey opened the front door to leave. They planted themselves squarely in the corner of his bedroom. Another hallucination? In his condition, he couldn’t bring himself to care…

*****

His sleep was, mercifully, untroubled this time, and he woke that evening to find, as promised, a few bottles of medication on his nightstand, as well as some instructions and recommendations. Steamy baths? Hot beverages? That’d be easy enough.

Also on his nightstand was a paper bag, fragile and damp with steam. The handwriting on the note was smeared—Alex was a lefty—but impressively uniform and straight, despite the slightly distorted sloppiness of the individual letters that spelled out “Get well soon : )”

Charming, really.

He stomached only a quarter of the chicken pot pie and half a snickerdoodle cookie—hallucinating rarely left him with an appetite—before stumbling into the living room, pausing by the portrait of two root vegetables to catch his breath, and into the kitchen to shove the rest in the fridge. He was still exhausted—mind, body, spirit—and hoping beyond hope that he’d be able to sleep peacefully through the night.

Tucking himself in, he managed to make out in the moonlight a new trio of junimos marching in, straight through the wall this time. So it hadn’t been a dream earlier, huh? They gave what seemed to be a salute to their compatriots who had been, for lack of a better word, standing guard the past few hours before switching places.

“Thank you?” Achilles found himself saying to their retreating figures. Thank you? For what? For just being there?

The junimos merely bounced.

#llnks #sunspraypeak #stardew fanfic #stardew valley fic #sdv fic #sdv alex #stardew valley alex #stardew valley oc #sdv farmer #stardew farmer

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sunspray-peak · 1 year

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Updates Calendar

Since the whole fic is technically completed, I’ve figured out the cadence for updates and just thought I’d try to organize it. 🤠 The stardrops vs prismatic shards don’t mean anything, I just wanted some ~ variety ~ Back to Masterpost.

#sunspraypeak #llnks #updates cal #stardew fanfic #sdv fanfic

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sunspray-peak · 1 year

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I’ve finally attempted a drawing of my OC. He may be the new (temporary?) owner of Strawberry Farms, but he ain’t a farmer.

Presenting Achilles ! (“uh-sheel”). A nepo baby writer turned marketing exec turned… owner of a farmhouse? Not a farmer. Yet.

“Romancing” Alex (romancing in quotes bc there’s not much active romancing going on.) over the course of a coming of age, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, fanfic.

#sdv farmer #stardew farmer #sdv oc #stardew oc #my art #meet the farmer #stardew fanart #sdv fic #llnks #sunspraypeak #my oc

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sunspray-peak · 1 year

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Ch. 9: Orange Groves in Zuzu City

WEDNESDAY - SPRING 17

Strawberry Farms was looking great.

Of course, it didn’t really look like a farm. There were, despite Demetrius’ insistence, still no strawberries (the seeds Achilles had purchased were in a kitchen drawer, stubbornly long forgotten), but the land was fully cleared and ready for planting.

Along the newly painted and reinforced porch, orange and yellow daylilies crept alongside fluffy pink peonies that were just beginning to blossom. The blue geraniums likely wouldn’t bloom until next season, but their crowded, bushy stems still waved merrily in the bed he had dug out and mulched.

In a moment of weakness while scrolling through the online flower catalogue, Achilles had splurged on two bleeding heart bushes to plant in the shadow of the greenhouse once it was completed. As a lifelong city dweller—he had been forced to impatiently defend himself to Shane who had shaken his head in dismay at the garish sight—he couldn’t help it if he was a sucker for a funny looking plant.

The two had spent the morning rolling the last of the debris to the mine carts before Shane said they should call it a day. “We both deserve a little break,” Shane had grunted before leaving for Joja. Fair enough. It had, after all, been near nonstop physical labor for over half the season.

That being said, Achilles did not particularly thrive on breaks. But the remaining items on the Sacred To-Do List required either a second hand or tools he didn’t yet have, so after repositioning the new garden gnome the 80th time (gaudier—and dare he say tackier—than his usual tastes, but just so amusing with his funny little hat!), Achilles was finally forced to conclude that, yes, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to take a “break.”

“Unless you spirits have any other ideas?” he asked his invisible watchers, flicking a spot of dirt off the gnome’s nose. He hadn’t seen any junimos in a few weeks now. Perhaps it had been all in his head…

Idleness and anxiety were synonymous for him, so, with only the smallest stir in the pit of his stomach, Achilles decided it was time he took up Alex’s offer and visit the gym in Zuzu City. Perhaps, he also realized with a stroke of inspiration, he could stop by a hardware store and take a look at some paint chips. He had been considering repainting. Yellow and red were such boring, cliched colors for a farmhouse…

He was, unsurprisingly, the only one on the bus, and took an aisle seat near the back.

A handful of elderly folks got on at Moonmist Meadows, a significantly larger, more suburban town than Stardew Valley that housed the elementary and middle schools for the three outlying towns outside of Zuzu. From there, the bus trundled off along the two lane highway, pulling into the city fifteen minutes later.

Achilles had never been before, but had heard the villagers reference “the city” and its grid ball stadium occasionally. Sam had once shared his family used to live there before wanting to move somewhere “quieter,” so he had assumed Zuzu must’ve been livelier than the country towns surrounding it. Suffice to say, as Achilles stepped out of the bus, he was rather disappointed.

A handful of high rises (if you could even call them that) dotted the landscape, two or three towers in a sea of squat, brick boutiques, coffee shops, and family owned businesses. It was a dense and walkable little grid, but unlike in Hyacinthia, the streets were quiet and the sidewalks here wide and clean as a whistle. Achilles very rarely had to break his step to allow a hurried office worker or shopper to pass. Neatly trimmed hedges lined the curb, their tiny white flowers punctuating the gas and coffee-tinted air with their rich, sweet scent. But despite the vegetation, Moonmist just didn’t feel alive.

It was much too quiet for a city—not as quiet as Stardew, whose silence he found disconcerting at times, but still—no buskers, no honking horns, no sirens…

Glancing at the map he had snapped a photo of on his phone, Achilles headed down two streets and to the right, onto 2nd Avenue where he found, under the branches of a literal orange tree, Orange Grove Fitness.

A little bell announced his arrival, causing the woman at the front desk to look up from her paperwork.

“Hi, welcome to Orange Grove!”

Achilles gave a quick wave and glanced around. The lobby was well lit and clean; a handful of orange cushioned chairs lined the walls, their reflections visible in the gleam of the dark hardwood floors.

“I’m… here for a class.” Achilles grabbed a little calendar from a neat stack on the counter. “With Alex Mullner?”

“Oh sure! Here a little early, though, his next class isn’t for another 20. First time?” The girl—Megan was her name, according to her name tag—stood from her chair and handed him a bright orange clipboard. “Just got some forms here for ya, if you don’t mind. You can take a seat anywhere.” She waved her arms towards the chairs.

It seemed like he was getting himself into a cycling class, according to the schedule. Well, better cardio than strength, he thought, as he checked down a row of boxes. His arms hadn’t stopped feeling numb since his tumble down the mines.

“We’ve got several different membership plans,” Megan said when he returned the form. She handed him a piece of cardstock detailing the different tiers. “Depending on if you want certain classes, 24/7 access to the gym, access to the pool, private training, all of the above, two of the above, you name it, we’ve got something. Of course, first class today will only be $25 for ya as a part of our trial special, but if you’re interested in anything else, you just let me know.”

“Great, thank you.”

“You know Alex?” She had filed away his paperwork and was now putting together a new clipboard.

Achilles nodded. “We’re neighbors.”

“Oh, no way! You’re from Stardew?” She wiped the pen he had used with a sanitizing wipe with a quick flourish.

“I moved there at the beginning of the season. It’s just for a bit.”

“Oh, that’s so great, Alex will be so excited.” Megan set the new clipboard alongside two others on the counter. “You’re the first person from the Valley to check out his new class. He’s worked here for four or so years and the owners finally decided to ask him to design one. Wouldn’t stop talking about it for a week, I kept telling him, you should’ve just asked…”

The phone began to ring and she gave him a friendly wave. “You go on take a seat, it’ll just be a few more minutes.”

*****

People began to file in en masse about ten minutes later—regulars, it seemed, who smoothly scanned their IDs at the counter before heading past the front desk down the hall.

Achilles, after receiving an enthusiastic thumbs up from Megan who was on the phone again, followed the little crowd into a room on the right where he could see Alex at the doorway, greeting each arrival with a high five.

As Achilles neared, Alex’s face broke into an even wider smile.

“Hey, hey, hey, the man of the hour!” Achilles found himself pulled into a quick half-hug, the touch of Alex’s firm hand on his back sending a prickle racing through to his fingertips. “Glad you could make it!”

Two dozen bikes or so were neatly arranged in a bright room; natural light poured through a window taking up most of the opposite wall, a yellow tinting film somewhat lessening the glare on the mirrored wall facing them. Bright green fans with blades shaped like leaves hung from the ceilings.

Damn, this is a nice fucking gym…

Achilles took a bike in the back row, close to the corner. Nodding politely to his neighbor, he hopped deftly onto the orange cushion and tucked his water bottle into the holder in front of him.

The room was soon full (with mostly women, Achilles couldn’t help but notice), and after a short, animated kickoff speech from Alex, pop music blared through the speakers and they started the warm up.

*****

Having been absolutely determined not to sweat any more than necessary—see, this is why he had always erred towards solo sports; nobody looked more vulnerable than a sweaty, harried, visibly exhausted victim—Achilles was pleased to find that his six years of jogging had transferred easily to the bike. Of course, he probably could’ve upped the resistance a bit more, like Mr. Marathon over to his left, who was huffing and puffing as he wheezed along to Dylan Brisk’s latest Top 10 hit, but hey, Achilles still had a whole afternoon ahead of him. Couldn’t afford looking like a wreck while scrutinizing paint chips, especially when Alex was looking so… good.

Remarkably unfair. Neither out of breath nor red with exertion, Alex accompanied his instructions with his usual easy, bright-eyed smile, every hair on his head still perfectly held in place.

The class ended with a light cool down. Pushing his hair back with his hand in an attempt to stealthily wipe the sweat off his forehead, Achilles delicately unstuck himself from the seat. His legs weren’t the consistency of jello per se, but definitely on the wobblier side as he went to grab some disinfectant wipes from the tree shaped dispenser next to the window.

Alex, still full of energy after cycling for an hour and shouting countdowns and the various motivations and encouragements that good instructors ought to do, was now chatting with one of the members, a blonde girl in perfectly coordinated blue camo workout gear. She did not look particularly sweaty, to Achilles’ vague irritation.

Achilles eyed the two with just the tiniest hint of envy (well, at least you’re self-aware). He took his sweet time wiping down the bike—the handholds, the seat, even the bottle holder, hey, his fingers had touched that, too… — and waited for her to leave.

A hand on the shoulder there, a brush on the arm accompanied by a bubbly, high-pitched laugh… ugh. The blonde was likely a regular, but even then, given Alex’s lack of reciprocation, her overt familiarness seemed to be making most folks uncomfortable, to Achilles’ relief (see, it’s not just you), as the rest of the class keenly interrupted the two to say goodbye as they filtered out.

Even Mr. Marathon was shaking his scarlet face, cocking an eyebrow at Achilles in shared disbelief as he offered up a fist bump and strolled away.

Alex, who was now leaning away on his back leg against his bike as the girl chattered on, hands loosely holding the loop of his water bottle, met Achilles’ gaze and smiled. He didn’t end the conversation, though—it was another two minutes before her friends called her name. But finally, she trotted out, and it was just them two in the warm, orange-cast room.

“Sheeeesh.” Achilles said, eyeing the door.

Alex held a pointer finger to his upturned lips, but his eyes were twinkling. Achilles obliged, and only after a pause whereupon Alex began to re-wipe down all the bikes, did he continue.

“That happen every class?”

“Eh, sometimes. Doesn’t usually go on for that long. Luckily,” he had moved on to the second row, “Professional ‘decorum’ gives me a believable excuse to, and I’m quoting here, turn down any potential romantic advances.”

“You’re not allowed to date the members?”

“Oh, I’m allowed, just not ‘encouraged’ is I think the word the rules say, and that’s been a good enough excuse whenever it starts getting too direct. But hey,” Alex turned to face him, arms outstretched above his head, “What’d you think of the class?”

“Great! Really great, I haven’t biked in ages. I mean, did I hate the arm portion? A little bit, didn’t realize we did that in cycling classes. But have to say, loved the music… yeah, best class I’ve taken…”

Achilles followed Alex out into the hall where they both disposed of their wipes in a tree trunk-themed trash can.

“Oh yeah? You better put that in the survey.” Alex had walked him to the lobby. “Spent two weeks crafting that playlist and routine, you know. Keep trying to get Sam or Penny to stop by, but it doesn’t work great with their schedules…”

“So, Achilles, how’d it go? Interested in a membership?” Megan was still at the desk, her deft fingers already holding a new clipboard (this one green) at the ready.

“Ah…” Achilles glanced at Alex, who was now swiveling lazily in the chair next to Megan’s. He was leaning back, his long legs spread, sneakered feet planted into the floor as he tossed an orange stress ball between his hands. Achilles didn’t want to disappoint him, but… “It was great class, but not at this time.”

“Ah-sheel, actually, Meg, it’s French.” Alex rolled the “r” (very not-French of him), his green eyes dancing, hands now grasping his knees as he clumsily rolled himself forward. “Not a knock against me or my class, for the record, Mr. Orange Grove, if you’re listening. He’s just in the Valley for the rest of the season and then he’s outta here like the traitor he is.”

Grateful that Alex understood, Achilles nodded and went to refill his water bottle at the tank next to the front counter. Megan nodded as well, returning the green clipboard behind the desk.

“Yeah, best not insult Mr. Orange Grove right now,” he heard her say to Alex. “Rumor has it Josh might be leaving at the end of the year.”

“Seriously?”

“Mmhm, his wife’s apparently looking for a new job on the East Coast… think you’ll apply if he goes?”

“Nah, being manager seems like way too much work.”

“It’d be 9-5 though.”

“Yeah, but paperwork? Nah, I couldn’t handle that, no thanks…”

Achilles returned to stand in front of the two. “Speaking of getting… ‘outta here.’ I thought I’d pick up some things for the farmhouse. Paint and the like. Care to join? Would welcome your thoughts, Shane merely grunts every time I ask him.”

Alex glanced at his watch, a surprisingly delicate, somewhat feminine, old fashioned thing strapped to his wrist in soft, worn leather. “Got another class to teach in a bit.” Folks were indeed beginning to string in and head down the hall. “Maybe in an hour and thirty or so if that works? I can show you around the city too, if you’d like, maybe we can grab dinner before we head back.”

“Sure.” Squashing down the single butterfly that had begun to flutter in his stomach. Achilles patted his pockets to make sure he had everything.

“There’s a cafe across the street.” Megan nodded at a quaint, lavender canopy. “It’s pretty nice if you want to wait and work there. Their earl grey is really good if you’re a tea person.”

“Girl after my own heart, thank you.” Achilles nodded farewell.

*****

Back in the day, “work” had meant churning out 300 different slogans to headline 50 different versions of an advertisement for produce or the latest store brand cola (he had managed the JojaMart account, and what a nightmare that had been). As he steadily rose up the ranks of BRLO, he had found himself writing less and reading more, but even still, old habits died hard.

He had meant to spend the hour redesigning the rotting “Strawberry Farms” sign that used to welcome visitors to the property before he had taken it down, but sitting in the bustling coffee shop, pen and pocket notebook in hand, he found himself conducting a little exercise he used to play back in his junior copywriter days.

A man who hasn’t seen the sun in years finally decides one day to leave the basement where he lives alongside the mummified corpse of his neighbor whose house he’s actually been squatting in, he wrote next to a doodle of a man waiting by the counter in a black trench coat and dark shades who was holding a pastel pink and purple drink with whipped cream in one hand.

He had actually started doing it—silly, low effort, micro stories of strangers around him—as practice back in middle school when he decided, after much adolescent pondering, that he would perhaps like to be a writer, too, when he grew up. Funnily enough, the habit had fallen by the wayside when he actually did become a published writer, but after getting his creative soul crushed in his first year at BRLO, he had found his way back to it.

And at a quarter to 4, Alex found his way back to him, dropping into the seat to his left along the back wall. The neon orange uniform was now half-hidden by a faded green letterman, the faint smell of citrus filling the air.

“Keeping it the same?” He was looking at the various sign designs that Achilles had, eventually, drawn up. “No Banana Farms? Orange Farms? I think Blackberry Farms has a nice ring to it.”

“I actually did consider changing it.” Achilles passed the notebook over so Alex could take a closer look. “But I’d have to fill out quite a few forms and register new permits, and the new owners may just want to change it anyway. Figured it likely wasn’t worth the hassle.”

“I like the second one, but they’re all not bad, you know.” He continued to flip through, catching a glimpse of the various doodles and stories. “This all looks very impressive.”

All not bad. Achilles suppressed a dry chuckle. At least the stories and sketches were “impressive.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you when you’re going to get into writing again,” he said, handing the notebook back to Achilles who tucked it in his windbreaker. “I know how annoying that can be. And I’m well aware saying that makes it sounds like I just asked when you’ll get back into writing in a sideways sort of way, but I promise I don’t mean it like that.”

They left the counter, Alex opening the cafe door with his shoulder and motioning for Achilles to exit first.

“Come on. You wanted paint? I’ll show you around.”

Zuzu felt even smaller once he was given a guided tour. An art museum, a history museum, the local performing arts theater, and the library were probably the standouts—modern, more imposing buildings of marble and glass crammed jarringly between the brick and mortar mom and pop shops. At a quaint olive oil emporium, Achilles purchased a garlic infused bottle as an additional thank you gift for Evelyn and George. Mostly Evelyn. George’s mood had been just as dismissive during dinner.

“I have wine, too—should’ve shown up with it on Saturday really, bit of a lapse on my part.” Achilles handed the neatly wrapped box to a lightly protesting Alex.

On 4th and 2nd, Alex pointed out the grid ball stadium, whose spires were just visible behind the purple neon lights of a karaoke bar.

“I was so sure I’d end up there one day, you know, but I guess fate had other plans,” he mused just as screams and drums began to erupt from the arena. Seemed like there was a concert going on tonight.

“Don’t beat yourself up, it’s hard as fuck to go pro.”

When younger, Achilles had always secretly dreamed of being a sports star—what kid didn’t? The fame, the notoriety, the fans… the visibility of it all, really. And the pure, easy objectivity when it came to deeming who was “great.” So unlike the literary world. Unfortunately, as Alex had proved, nobody gave a shit about fencers and he had never quite been able to break into the national Top 20 for high school tennis, despite all his training (and his parents’ money).

“Hmm.” Alex frowned. Must be a sore subject. “We should go for a game some time, when the season starts back up.”

Achilles didn’t care much for grid ball, but the invitation couldn’t help but bring an enthusiastic quirk to his lips anyway.

Stop that!

At the hardware store, the two compared paint chips combinations.

“I want something light, something fresh, but modern,” Achilles explained to the aproned employee who slowly nodded in feigned interest.

Alex was partial to a sage green. A bold choice, Achilles thought, eyeing the chip, but could perhaps work with a dark grey roof? Or maybe a brown? He asked the young employee for her thoughts, but she merely shrugged.

He settled on a warm grey in the end—something a bit in the middle, and ordered a delivery for tomorrow morning.

“Wanna grab dinner?” Alex asked after they stepped out. “Getting a bit late, we could just grab something from the saloon.”

“Ah, I think it might rain soon.” Achilles had taken note earlier of the dark clouds that had been rolling in. Oh how Ii pained him to turn down a meal with the man, but the thought of sprinting to Pelican Town and back in a thunderstorm made him queasy.

Alex glanced upwards, but only one of them had spent 3rd grade studying the different types of clouds.

“Huh, all right, I’ll trust you, weather boy—come on, if we run we might make the next bus.”

Make the next bus they did, and right in time as thunder began to crack just as they took their seats. At Moonmist, a sorrowful, soaked Penny joined them, clambering stiffly into her seat, droplets pooling on the floor.

“Of a-all d-d-d-ays to stay late,” she stuttered with a breathy laugh. She graciously accepted the letterman Alex offered, her birdlike frame totally engulfed by the green leather.

“I can grab you two umbrellas.” Achilles, eager to help somehow, glanced over at the two while they waited underneath the bus stop together. “Since the farm is closer. Won’t be a minute.”

Taking a deep breath, he sprinted out from underneath and was immediately pelted by fat rain drops that splashed against the polyester of his windbreaker, beading up before racing down the sleeves.

He had just been able to make out the edges of his property when a thought suddenly occurred to him.

Fuck.

You idiot.

He sprinted back, choosing to do his penance standing shamefacedly across from the bus stop in the muddy road as rain continued to beat down.

“I forgot I… don’t have any umbrellas,” he called, looking uncomfortably at the merrily splashing mud. “I’m sorry.” You dumb bitch! This is what you get for being hasty, trying to impress…

But Alex and Penny merely laughed.

“You think it’ll clear up soon?” Alex called. “Come under the bus stop, Achilles, what’s wrong with you.”

Achilles peered up, getting a quick glimpse in of the thick clouds continuing to darken the skies overhead, just before a raindrop fell into his eye.

“No, I think you’ve got a while to go, I’m afraid. But you can come back to my place if you’d like, I’ve got a… frozen pizza. Maybe.”

“Oh yeah, just like you had two umbrellas, right—”

“Listen, at least I said maybe this time—”

“I should head back,” Penny said, her voice ringing through the rain. “I have to fix up dinner for my mom… but thank you for the offer.”

“I’ll walk you back—and you go on and head back, too, Achilles, get out of here before you get pneumonia or something.”

With Penny’s squeal, the two raced out from under the bus stop, high tailing it down the muddy path, leaving Achilles to moodily stomp his way back to Strawberry Farms.

At least there had indeed been a frozen pizza in the freezer. Small victories.

After shoving it in the oven, he changed out of his wet clothes and collapsed in his armchair. What a day. Between the gym and the city tour—the only time he had thought about the farm was at the hardware store. Was this what it was like to live impulsively? He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Then again, to have been able to spend it all with Alex… even with the rain, he might just do it a hundred times over.

Small victories.

#chapter 9 #llnks #sunspraypeak #sdv alex #stardew alex #sdv fanfic #sdv oc

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sunspray-peak · 1 year

Text

Howdy!

After 8 million years (aka 10 months !!) I have finished writing my first (and likely last lol) ever fanfic - what started out as something initially just for quick practice turned into a 250k+ word novel (and distraction). Who’d have thunk.

Summary:

Years after inheriting his grandpa’s old farm in Stardew Valley, Achilles Oleander Robinson (pronounced “Ah-sheel” -- his mother is French. Supposedly.), has decided it’s finally time to ditch his six figure job in the city and pay the old backwater county of Zuzu a visit.

Whether the sudden visit to Strawberry Farms is motivated by an aching desperation to escape the corporate world or a determination to capture a life he’s long believed to be lost to him, however, remains to be seen. Not that it really matters, though. He’s not planning to stay long enough to figure it out. Clean up the old place, put it on the market, then get on out of there, badabing badaboom. As long as he doesn’t ask himself “What’s Next?” he’s golden.

But the community proves more alluring than he anticipated, the potential some of the members promise more persuasive, and Achilles can’t help but wonder what it is he truly ever wanted. And all the while forest spirits run amok and trouble brews deep within the mountains of Sunspray Peak, reawakening voices he had long learned to bury deep.

Presenting... Learning to Listen to a New Kind of Sound ! (a mouthful of a title, I know. We’ll call it LLNKS for short, I guess.)

Featuring...

-A Stardew Valley world where apparently both France and Greece exist -An aro/ace Alex -A very, very slow burn -Self-discovery -The word “fuck” -Magic -Lots of button down shirts -Pierre losing the Stardew Valley Fair (spoiler) -A protagonist who never checks his mail -A very loyal maine coon (who doesn’t appear until Fall) -What it means to start over in your mid 20s

CWs: -Mental health -Alcoholism -References to suicide -Homophobia

There are, of course, some liberties taken with the characters and canon, but for the most part I’d like to hope that it remains loyal to the spirit of the great stuff ConcernedApe crafted! I hope fans of the game will take note of all the maybe less obvious easter eggs and references!! Updates: Updates will be posted per the below schedule on this tumblr and on Ao3. And since the entire work has already been finished, there shouldn’t ever be any delays. Woohoo!!!

Hoping to commission some art from the many many super talented artists I’ve been reblogging at some point--but in the meantime. Letsa go! 🤠 Happy to answer any questions and appreciate any support!!

- xxFarmer A

#sdv #sdv oc #sdv fanfic #stardew fanfic #sdv alex #sunspraypeak #stardew valley #stardew valley alex #llnks

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sunspray-peak · 11 months

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Ch. 26: Under the Golden Glow of the Sun

SATURDAY - SUMMER 27

The Wizard had been out yesterday—or, at least, he had failed to answer the door, and after Achilles’ last encounter with an empty Wizard’s Tower, he decided it’d be best to not walk in without an invitation. The junimos, who had continued to watch him in increasing numbers since the pneumonia, had nodded in agreement and followed him back to the farm.

But Achilles was eager for answers, so the next day, after the saddest, slowest, most pathetic morning jog he had ever run, he headed straight back to Cindersap. The path there was riddled with an extra pair of footprints today; someone else must’ve paid Rasmodius a visit. Someone with a rather dragging, limping gait, it seemed.

Who in Stardew has a limp? Strange.

He followed the unsteady prints up the dusty stone steps and knocked once again on the Wizard’s door. It opened instantly with a loud bang—Rasmodius, dressed in his usual black robes didn’t seem surprised to see him.

“Back again are you, boy? Can’t take the hint?” he grunted, slamming the front door behind him and joining Achilles on the stone steps.

“I just have some questions—”

“Oh I’m sure you do. Come on. Lay it on me, then. Quickly, I’ve got work to do.”

Achilles was a little caught off guard by the Wizard’s grumpy demeanor—he had never been quite so brusque in their conversation before—but it was no matter. It would take more than a prickly exterior to intimidate a determined Achilles. That being said, he kept his recap short and to the point.

“…and Corvus said… it was up to me. And I just supposed I’d get your thoughts on the matter, maybe you could teach me, tell me how I can help and what I can do, especially seeing as it all seemed rather time sensitive—”

The Wizard rolled his eyes, already turning around to head back into the tower. “Of course that little brute said that. You listen here—you stay away from those mines. You haven’t got what it takes to confront spirits. I know what’s buried down there, and believe me, you won’t be able to handle it. Nobody can.” Rasmodius tugged his mustache and added in a low mutter, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell Marlon…”

“Marlon?”

The Wizard proceeded as if he hadn’t heard.

“You pay no attention to the shadow brute in the cave. You can’t trust those things. They’re evil spirits.”

“This one didn’t feel evil—”

“Oh, and you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Achilles shoved his hand through the door, blocking the Wizard from shutting it fully. He was here for answers, and he was going to get them. What the hell was with the total 180? “Well if you would just teach me—remember, you were the one who told me I had some sort of special relationship with the spirits here, that I, I don’t know, could be what Stardew Valley needed. You were the one who encouraged all this spirit talk. Corvus found me. He spoke to me. I think I have a right—”

“A right?” The Wizard wrenched the door back open—he seemed to rapidly swell in height, looming down darkly at Achilles who nevertheless stood his ground. “What right? Oh, a shadow brute made you feel special, boy? Like you could be the Savior of Stardew—bah, that’s what it wanted you to think, I never should have told you what I did—

“Look at you, an immature child who was never told no—your stunted gifts are limited. You have no training, no experience, no knowledge! And no potential. You have no destiny here.”

After letting these words ring in the air for a beat, Rasmodius shrank back to his usual height. Curls of smoke emerged from beneath the door. He leaned against the frame, suddenly weary, and removed his hat, running the brim through his fingers as he continued in a softer tone. “Achilles, listen to me. This is not your job. Best leave it to the professionals and not ask too many questions. I have long been well aware of the problem, and I can assure you, I have been working on a solution to heal the Elemental Walls of this Valley for many years now.”

“But the Portal—”

“Stop. The best thing you can do is forget everything that shadow brute told you.”

The Wizard’s violet eyes were almost tender as they met Achilles’ brown ones.

“I know how difficult that can be. How intense the spiritual pull can feel. But I’m begging you. Find a new passion. Lose yourself in something else. Anything else. Just forget about those spirits, and they’ll forget about you. Trust me. You don’t know what you want? I’m telling you now. That is what you should want. To forget. You’ll thank me one day, boy.”

With that, Rasmodius gently shut the door, leaving only a cloud of glittering, lavender smoke to linger in the air.

*****

Naturally, the meeting left Achilles in a rather rotten mood. Perhaps rotten wasn’t the right word, he thought to himself as he aimed a kick at a mushroom, nose twitching like it had never twitched before. A whole host of junimos were chittering alongside him as he stalked through the forest, but Achilles was deaf to their messages, too wounded to process anything but the resentment building inside him.

What he hated most about the whole affair was that the Wizard was probably right—what could he have possibly expected to have done in the mines? He had been too arrogant, too focused on the spoils of victory rather than what battling any “spirits of evil” would actually require and entail.

This was supposed to have been his Summer of rest and relaxation. Didn’t he learn anything? He was supposed to stop getting involved in shit. Not that there was much he was qualified to get “involved in.” Truly, what was he even good for? He hadn’t gleaned anything new or noteworthy about himself from his camping trip… he was just average all around. Jack of all trades, with most of the credit going to his wealthy upbringing. And yet still master of none.

Head down, muttering curses under his breath, he had failed to see Alex waving to him from the path until they very nearly collided in a puff of citrus-scented apologies.

“Heyyo! Perfect timing, I was just by your farm, just got back from Zuzu. I was looking for you.”

Achilles glanced upwards—looking for me, you say?

It was almost laughable, how quickly his bad mood began to dissolve at the sight of him—ridiculous, really, but so was choosing to hold on to the deluge of self-loathing Rasmodius had inspired, and so the logical part of his brain allowed this welcome breath of fresh air to wash over him and soothe his spite.

“Everything all right?” Alex studied him quizzically. A rather intense gaze, those green eyes were oft to give; Achilles unusually had to break eye contact first.

“Hmm? Yes, I’m fine. Why?”

“You look… well, you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” Achilles wasn’t exactly sure why he was lying—perhaps the two of them had had too many depressing conversations lately, and Achilles didn’t want Alex to think he was a mopey little puffin all the time.

It was pretty clear Alex didn’t believe him, but, non-confrontational as he was, Alex chose not to further push.

“I was going to go for a swim after lunch, thought maybe you’d be down to join if you’re feeling up to it. Second to last day of Summer, thought it might, I don’t know, be nice for you while the water’s still warm. If we go out far enough, we might be able to catch the early jellies before they start to come in.”

“Jellies?”

“Yeah, you know, like before the festival.”

“What festival?”

“The Dance of the Moonlight Jellies? You didn’t get Lewis’ letter? He usually sends one every year.”

“I don’t check my—I must’ve missed it…”

“Yeah, the jellyfish migrate west the last week of Summer, it’s really cool. It’s a little early for them to be close to shore, though, so we’ll have to go out past the waves.”

Conquer the Sand and the Sea!

Perhaps he could at least accomplish one thing before summer’s end…

“This is just you making due on your threat to drop me in the middle of the sea, isn’t it? I’m in fragile condition, Alexander, don’t you know.”

Alex laughed and swung an arm briefly around Achilles’ shoulders as they headed back to Strawberry Farms. “You got me there. Nah, you can just stay in the boat if you’re still not feeling great, although the water’s pretty calm.”

“The boat?”

“Yeah, I usually go pretty far out. Boat’s nothing fancy, though. Small wooden thingy, it’s def not those yachts you’re probably used to, am I right?”

Achilles hesitated. It had been a long time since he had been in a boat. And it was the small ones that scared him the most—the ones where you could feel every rolling wave, every lurch… so close to the water, you could dip your hand in without leaning too far over.

He remembered the cold. The blue light that blotted out the stars. The moon. The silence of a stilled motor.

No. No thank you. He faced Alex, ready to turn down the offer, but, to his own surprise, found himself hesitating in his denial.

There was an innate confidence to Alex that Achilles had always lacked. He was good at feigning it, but on the inside… Achilles had spent his whole life preoccupied with fixing his faults to better focus on building his future. Always anxious he was running out of time.

But Alex had a sureness that propelled him in the present. There was something in his eyes, maybe something in his jaw, that, at least at this moment, inspired some measure of confidence in Achilles. And so, to his own surprise, he said,

“Sure. Let’s do it.”

*****

The boat wasn’t as bad as he had thought. A rowboat. Yes, this was better, he could deal with a rowboat. That being said, he still needed a minute to catch his breath as he took a rocking step inside and sat tentatively towards the bow.

Alex had (naturally) taken the oars. There being only one pair, in addition to being in “recovery,” gave Achilles a good excuse to sit idly by and focus on his breathing. He firmly grasped the sides of the boat to steady himself.

“You don’t get seasick, do you?” Alex asked, watching him closely.

“No… I just… don’t do boats. Or open water.”

“Well it’s going to get a lot more open than this…” They were only a few hundred meters from the beach, Achilles could still just make out Tanya and another lifeguard watching over the day’s beachgoers.

Except for the brief stretch where the waves began to break, the further away they went from shore, the calmer the sea became. If Achilles had been one to get seasick, perhaps he’d have felt a lot better the further out they rowed, but as the shoreline slowly disappeared from view, so did any remaining sense of peace.

“We can turn back if you’d like…” Alex began uncertainly, watching as Achilles turned a shade not dissimilar to that of the seawater, but Achilles quickly cut him off with a halting shake of his head.

“Nope. Nope, let’s do this. It’s fine. I just… need a few minutes.”

Conquer, you fuck! This isn’t conquering… head in your hands little bitch…

Likely in an attempt to distract Achilles from their increasing isolation, Alex quickly kicked off a conversation regarding the latest superhero film that MD Comics had announced just last week—not Nimbus, Alex and Achilles had long agreed they had to have been the only two fans of the weather-changing superhero saga in existence (though recent news Achilles had come across would perhaps change that for the younger generation…)—but even so, they still shared a casual love for the general genre.

From there, they turned to grid ball, and from grid ball, they easily transitioned to the pros and cons of fame. Though “they” was pushing it, for Achilles, still somewhat mentally paralyzed, and even more so now with the topic at hand, was supplying perhaps about 2% of the conversation.

And so Alex, taking note of Achilles’ uneasy glances at the vast emptiness of the sea, began to point out the small surrounding islands they were beginning to pass. All part of the Fern Islands archipelago, he explained, stumbling a bit over the word “archipelago.” Most of the islands were titchy—barely the size of Pelican Town, and obviously uninhabited as high tide often covered them up. Ginger Island was the largest one, but too far to row to.

“It’s nice though. They got, like, parrots and stuff. Oh, and the resort has this amazing curry, I know you like hot peppers. Maybe we can go some time.”

Achilles nodded. Another day, the casual invitation may have sent him into a bit of a tailspin, but right now, anything beyond the small motion would require him to break his concentration. If he focused on Alex’s voice—clear and warm, a nice baritone, really—he could maybe, just maybe, relax. Yoba, how pathetic was he, letting something that happened six years ago affect him to this extent. Embarrassing, really…

After what seemed like an hour, Alex stopped rowing and set the oars back into the boat, glancing across the waves and shielding his eyes with his hands.

“Good day today! It can get a little choppy sometimes, but looks like Yoba made things nice and flat just for you.”

“‘Good day today?’ How often do you come out here?” Maybe, if he forced himself to talk, all his anxiety would leach itself out with his words. Yes. Exactly that.

“Oh. Um…” Alex, who was taking off his shoes, flushed, the tiny dusting of freckles on his nose more apparent with the pink. “Yeah, sometimes, I guess… It’s nice out here. And there’s not much to worry about—some fish and turtles, but nothing that’ll eat you. Sam does swear he once saw a mermaid, though.”

He unzipped his hoodie, tossing it to Achilles, whose brain immediately short circuited at the sight, concentration be damned. It was too much for his nerves, already frayed they were. In fact, they practically dissolved when Alex took a step closer and ran his hand just oh so casually through his hair.

Throughout their swim lessons and beach parties, Alex had always had his lifeguard uniform. That being said, Achilles should’ve known what to expect, it’s not like it was difficult imagining what a former almost-Artemic athlete who now worked as a fucking fitness instructor looked like shirtless. No surprises. Exactly what he’d have predicted; smooth skin aglow with a light dapple of freckles, soft shadows outlining perfectly tanned muscle… nothing fancy. In fact, Achilles determinedly told himself, it wasn’t anything Achilles hadn’t seen before; truly, there wasn’t remotely anything particularly special to the sight at all. Except that it just happened to be Alex.

But luckily for Achilles, his well trained poker face had reacted swiftly. And although his forehead had begun to sweat and his heart had begun to pound as the most beautiful person he had ever seen (and that included an ex boyfriend who had modeled for d’Attainville) continued to stand half-naked just a mere feet away from him, he managed to maintain rather nonchalant eye contact.

“You gonna stay here, then, weather boy?”

In the battle between lust and anxiety, apparently anxiety won. At Alex’s question, Achilles looked over the edge of the boat and dipped a hand into the water. It was, as Alex had said it would be, warm, but the touch still sent his already rapid heart beating even faster.

“Maybe for a bit.”

“Ok! No worries. I’ll just do a lap or so, I won’t go far. And lookiee here! Pear Pods!” Alex inserted the pear shaped, waterproof earbuds Achilles had gifted him into his ears and flashed a thumbs up.

With that, Alex walked slowly to the edge of the boat, ready to dive in the water before pausing and straightening back up. “Actually—sorry. I won’t do that. It’ll shake the boat.”

“No, it’s fine—”

Instead, he climbed delicately over the side into the water before disappearing under the surface. Achilles counted the disconcertingly small number of ripples before folding the hoodie Alex had thrown his way and placing it atop the seat. Handling the fabric had left the faint smell of oranges on his fingertips, and he couldn’t help but give them a small sniff in order to… better help anchor him and his anxiety.

Oh yeah, it’s totally just to anchor your anxiety you perv…

“Heyyo!”

Achilles looked out to the water towards the whooper who was treading water now and waving with far more enthusiasm than any open water ought to inspire—fuck, Alex really was fast if he had swum that far out in less than twenty seconds.

In just another 30 seconds or so later, Alex had returned, raising himself half-out of the lazy waves, (rather impressive) forearms resting against the sides of the boat as he pushed dripping brown strands, straightened and darkened by the water, out of his face.

“Maybe the mermaid Sam saw was actually you,” Achilles said drily, watching droplets pool on the floor of the boat. “You are very fast.”

Alex laughed, letting go of the boat (which pitched slightly—Achilles gripped the seat) and backing away a few feet to better tread water.

“You said you come out here sometimes?” Achilles slowly clambered towards the side of the boat for a better view. “Why? There’s a pool at your gym.”

“Yeah… but the pool is so… clean, you know? Well, not clean—well no, it is clean, but that’s not what I meant, it’s just like… lonely? And, I don’t know, it kind of reminds me of my old competing days… anyway, I like it out here. It’s rougher. Quieter. And sometimes you can race the dolphins, they even let me win every once in awhile.” Alex laughed again at his own little joke, propelling a jaunty little spin in the water. “I’ll come out here a couple times a week after work or after my grandparents go to bed.”

“Alone?”

“Ah… well…”

“That’s a yes, I can see it in those guilty green eyes of yours,” Achilles declared, pointing his finger at Alex’s wide-eyed visage.

Alex half shrugged, a clumsy movement in the water. “I don’t know, it’s nice to just… be alone, sometimes—”

“In the middle of the sea? At night? That’s so dangerous you don’t even have a radio in here, or a light. And there you were, always harping about swim safety to me—”

“Hey now, in my defense, you’ve known how to swim for like, barely one season—”

“I know you still hold the freestyle record in the province and all—”

“How’d you find that out?”

Ope. But Achilles, always quick on his feet, retorted with, “A lucky guess you just confirmed,” (a lie, he had looked it up) “but that’s not the point—what if the boat drifted away? What if you got caught in a current—they used to call the Gem Sea the Wild Wild West of the Water you know— ”

“Oh my god, of course you would have done research on Gem Sea history—I don’t go nearly this far out when I’m alone, I stay in sight of shore. And I tie myself to the boat if the water’s rougher—”

“And if the tether snapped?”

“All right, grandpa—listen, Ash, I’ve been doing this for ages. But I do appreciate the concern.”Those words coming from anybody else’s mouth would likely have been some kind of sarcastic, snappy remark, but Alex seemed genuine and patient in his appreciation.

Achilles, however, was still too vexed to let it go. And scolding Alex was distracting him from dealing with his own immediate champagne problems—hell, he could probably even bare to stand in the boat right now, his anxiety having found a different body to fret over. And stand he did, to better wave his hands towards the sky. “Do you let people know? That you’re out here swimming in the middle of the night?”

“I mean…”

“Alexander—”

“Well my grandparents know. Kind of. I don’t like keeping things from them, but I mean—“

“—kind of—?”

“I mean, I don’t know, I like the privacy, all right?” Alex’s voice had raised in pitch. More weary exasperation than anger, it nevertheless quieted Achilles. Alex flipped over to float on his back, arms stretched to the side like one of the overpassing seagull in flight.

“I… come out here so I can practice. Kind of. I mean, not that I’m planning to try to go pro again, I just like swimming, and I’d have to do a lot more than come out here three times a week, but… I miss it sometimes…”

Achilles waited a beat to confirm Alex wasn’t going to continue. This was an interesting development—so Alex hadn’t totally given up on it all, had he?

“Well why aren’t you trying to go pro again, if I may ask? Especially if you miss it? Sure, I don’t know much about swimming, but you still seem pretty damn fast to me.”

Alex floated closer to the boat, where Achilles gazed dolefully down at him from the side.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m… kind of old to get back into it now. And my grandparents never really liked it, so…”

Achilles cut him off with a series of sharp tap against the frame of the boat. “Perfect world, Alex. Pretend there’s nothing you have to worry about, nobody you have to take care of. Would you go for it?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe? Yes? Yes, I mean, of course I’d go for it—”Galvanized by his own words and now too restless to float, Alex flipped back over to treading water. “Who wouldn’t want to do what they love for a living? You got me, Ash, yes, I probably come out here so I can pretend to live out what could’ve happened in some private world of make believe. Is that what you wanted me to say?

“If I tell people that I come out here, or if I came here every day, made a schedule, tried to actually take it seriously, it… it makes it real. Like I’m actually trying to do it. And I’m scared of that. Because if it’s real, it can fail. I can fail, mess it all up all over again.”

“It wasn’t your fault—”

“No, it wasn’t. But I was still the one who got screwed over in the end, wasn’t I?”

Alex’s voice, though still patient, was firm and final. For a minute, the only sounds were the seagulls cawing from above, until, in a significantly more tentative tone, Alex asked, “Perfect world. What would you go for, Achilles?”

Achilles turned back to face the inside of the boat, bowing his head as he watched tiny rivulets of water slide across the bottom, and took a seat.

“Honestly? I don’t know. That’s why I’m a little jealous of you, really. There’s not like, a thing, that I’m really good at. I’ve tried so many things, and I still don’t know what I want…

“Having something that you’re good at and that you like and that people appreciate… I don’t know. I just think you… owe it to yourself. If something feels right like this, there’s no harm in ‘making it real.’ Like, just do it. How can there ever be harm in trying? And if you do decide to try to go for it, you should go for it as hard as you can.” Ah, yes, spoken like a true child of privilege. “But I don’t know, perhaps that’s a toxic mentality… ‘course, there’s tons of other factors at play…”

“Mmm…”

“I just…” Achilles was prepared to further expound his philosophy—he knew his views on success were flawed, but even taking a step back from all of that, he still staunchly believed in the power of not half-assing anything. But seeing the melancholy shadow on Alex’s face regrounded him, and he pivoted in a brighter tone. “I just still can’t get over you coming out here in the middle of the night. I mean, bold of you to criticize me for going into the tide pool without supervision while you’re out in the middle of the sea racing sharks!”

“Hey, I said dolphins! There are no sharks—okay, you know what, Mister, why don’t you show me your stuff and I won’t insist on supervising you in the tide pool anymore.”

“That is not the message you should be taking away—” It was hopeless, but Alex, whose mood seemed to be capable of transforming at enviable speed, was back to grinning like a fool, so Achilles’ tactic at least, in that regard, had been successful.

“Come on, get in! We’ve been practicing all season for this.”

Achilles took a deep breath and stood to look over the edge again.

Immediately, the anxiety that had been pushed aside during their little spat returned—the turquoise water was eerily clear, but even still, it was impossible to see the bottom of the sea. On and on it stretched, down below like a bottomless, dark blue pit. Dark. So, so, dark. Tiny waves sloshed steadily around the side of the boat, each gentle rock kicking off an avalanche of dread down his spine.

His legs buckled, and without realizing it, he collapsed back into his seat, beads of cold sweat sending his body into shivers.

“Oh shoot, shit, shit—” There was a splash, and within a second, Alex had appeared atop the side of the boat. It careened to the left with the sudden added weight, sending Achilles sprawling nearly overboard to the side.

But a hurried hand steadied his forearm just in time. “Shoot, I’m sorry—you don’t have to come in. We can head back, I shouldn’t have pushed, especially with you still recovering from pneumonia —”

Achilles cut Alex off with a raise of his own unsteady hand. “Right… ok, let’s not blame the pneumonia, we both know it’s just me being a coward.”

“Here, I’m going to get back in, we can row back—just brace yourself, it’ll tip a bit, let me know when you’re good— ”

“No, no.” With a small groan, Achilles buried his head in his hands. Pathetic. Utterly embarrassing. In a slightly muffled voice, he managed, “We don’t have to head back. You keep… doing you, it’s fine. Just… give me some more time. I didn’t realize the water would be so… deep.”

“Are you sure?”

Achilles looked up from his hands and forced a tight-lipped smile, making sure to keep his voice as steady as possible. “Yeah. Really. I’m sure. Look at me. Thriving.”

The tilt of Alex’s head and the small furrow in his brows betrayed his disbelief, but perhaps understanding Achilles’ silly little need to keep up appearances, he ultimately offered Achilles’ white-knuckled fingers a little encouraging tap and said, “Well… all righty, then… You let me know if you want to head back, though, okay? It’s really not a problem…”

With significantly less gusto than before, Alex reinserted the waterproof Pear Pods and dove back into the water.

What was wrong with him? Achilles buried his head in Alex’s hoodie this time, taking in the scents of citrus and salt, clutching the cotton as if it’d hold him back from careening off the edges of anxiety. He thought he had made so much progress this season… but the tide pool had been one thing, he should’ve known the whole damn Gem Sea would’ve been another.

It wouldn’t do. No, it wouldn’t do to sit in the boat like a chump. Pathetic pathetic pathetic. He’d go in the water or die trying—probably not the best turn of phrase, he thought to himself with a wry smile. He was safe here. He was better here. Alex wouldn’t let him drown, not in a million years, he’d never seen a more dedicated lifeguard… Really, this was honestly probably the best case scenario, all things considered. If his mind and body decided to betray him and he ended up hyperventilating and flailing in the water, the only witness would be Alex. His… friend. One who had already seen him at his near-worst, that Spring night. And not to mention one who could deliver CPR.

He tentatively took off his shirt, folding it and setting it neatly atop the refolded the hoodie, now suddenly somewhat hyperconscious of how inferior his physique must’ve been compared to Alex’s. Achilles was typically quite satisfied with his appearance; it was, after all, highly and minutely calculated—scheduled haircuts, a personal tailor, a personal trainer (well, in his Hyacinthia days), an eight step skin routine, and whatever else his money bought him, semi-narcissist that he was. But now that he was in front of Alex… even the pneumonia aside…

You look like a dinky green bean. This if what you get for jogging all the time, you should start climbing again… or breaking up boulders and cutting down trees again…

The water may have been warm, but the breeze was still just cool enough to send a prickle of goosebumps down his arm. It was fine. All was fine. He slowly stood, bracing himself against the sides of the boat, focusing on his immediate surroundings rather than the expansive, never-ending horizon.

“The jellies are out!” Alex, who had been swimming steadily for the past half hour, re-approached the boat just as Achilles had been ready to stick a leg into the water. “Look!”

Look he did, but he had to look closely. The sun would be setting soon, and the orange light it was casting across the water made it difficult to make out the pale, translucent bodies, little clouds of lavender and aquamarine.

“Don’t worry, they don’t sting.” Alex danced carefully around the bobbing shapes, cupping one gently and holding it up to Achilles for a better look before quickly returning it to the sea. “Most of them won’t arrive until tomorrow though, these guys are just the early birds. Or… too soon jellies,’ if you will.” At Achilles’ bemused look, Alex added, “Hey, I’m not the one here that’s good with words.”

He ran his hand through his hair again, water droplets sparkling in the sun as they dripped hypnotically down the curve his bicep, but Achilles forced himself to instead follow Alex’s gaze down towards the jellyfish.

“They’re easier to see from the water, I think… but no pressure,” Alex added quickly. “You’ll see them tomorrow night from the pier, they’re super beautiful under the moon, they, like, glow and stuff.”

Tomorrow night? Nope, nope, he was going to do this. He was going to see them now. Jellyfish didn’t scare him—in fact, knowing there was another living thing in this great expanse of water was comforting.

He steeled himself, gritting his teeth and focusing on Alex’s calming presence, the man’s youthful delight at the jellyfish. There was no hope of him climbing out of the boat nearly as gracefully as Alex had, so he wasn’t even going to try.

Just fucking do it, already.

Eyes half-closed, fists clenched to his sides, he dropped into the water with an awkward splash.

A piercing shock instantly ricocheted through every corner of his body. His mind screamed for him to get back to land. His chest tightened, his heart was threatening to absolutely burst—but the instincts Alex had relentlessly drilled into him during the previous weeks sprung into action as he automatically started to tread. But every breath was a shallow, choking gasp, and something was dragging him, dragging him down—

There was a hand on his back—he could barely feel it, numb as he was rapidly becoming—but he could see Alex, slightly blurry, treading water close.

“—hey, hey, hey. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. We’re in the water right now, but we can head back as soon as you want to.”

This went on for a minute longer until his embarrassment had somewhat overcome his panic. His vision slowly restored itself, his breaths became slower, and he became dimly aware that Alex was gripping his hand. He must’ve still been out of it, for he could not quite bring himself to let go just yet.

Another handful of minutes… the initial violent shock gradually wore off and he regained full function of his senses. He released Alex’s hand and raised his arm to clutch the side of the boat for temporary support.

“Panic attack?” Alex asked.

“I’m fine, I’m fine…” Achilles fired a curt nod in his direction, warning Alex to keep a bit of distance as Achilles scrambled to recover his pride. “Just need another minute, you don’t need to run through the next 80 or so steps they taught you in lifeguard school… fuck. Fuck me…”

Humiliating, was it. And just what he had predicted in that imaginary scenario of his.

Well. At least you didn’t need CPR…

He stared resolutely at the jellies, focused on the warmth of the water, the sweetness that was so, so unlike the waters in Monstera. He was here. In the Gem Sea. With Alex. It was fine.

After another few minutes, he let go of the boat and began to tread water again. Slowly—he probably shouldn’t over exert himself. Alex, he noticed, was staying close. But not too close, likely conscious of the remaining scraps of dignity Achilles was desperate to hold tightly to. Kid was probably worried he’d have another tiny panic attack and keel over and drown…

He focused his gaze on the closest waves, now fully basked in gold; he could feel the heat of the setting sun against his neck. Alex had been right. You could see the jellyfish much better from here.

There must’ve been hundreds—maybe even thousands—slowly bobbing their way through the shallower depths of the water. They easily parted when passing him, tentacles sometimes just barely brushing against his legs, tickling his chest as they made their gentle swim north. Some of the jellies were as big as his head, pulsating through the water with a vigor unmatched by the tiniest ones, barely the size of Achilles’ thumb.

After a few minutes, Alex paddled smoothly over, now just half a foot or so away. If Achilles were brave enough to pause in his strokes and reach out a hand…

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

Alex, probably now confident that Achilles was not going to drown anytime soon, dove under the water. Though the sun’s intense setting glare made it a little more difficult than before to see through the crystal clear depths, Achilles could still make out Alex spinning among the jellies, maneuvering through the crowds with an acrobatic ease. He seemed at home here. In the water. A reminder for Achilles of what a real shame it must’ve been to have had to give it up.

Achilles tried a couple strokes himself, mostly just so he could officially declare he had “swum” in the sea and cross off those damned post-it notes. His arms and legs were getting tired, but he didn’t want to be the one to call it in. Despite all his anxiety earlier that day, to finally be in the water, with the jellies, with Alex under the golden glow of the sun… it felt nice. A warmth was now spreading through his chest, melting the numbing buzz of his nerves and humiliation.

When Alex finally resurfaced, it was only a foot away from Achilles. He shook his hair like a dog, whipping droplets that ruthlessly pelted Achilles, who chuckled and threw an arm up, half-cowed against the boat.

“Hey, you ready to head back? It’ll be getting dark soon.”

“Oh yeah? Doesn’t sound like that’s ever stopped you.”

“All right, all right, all right. Good grief, I’ll buy a radio or something if it’ll make you happy…”

They both laughed. Alex hurtled up the ladder (which Achilles only just now noticed had been hammered into the side of the boat) first so that he got the brunt of the small boat’s nauseating tilt.

“Here,” he exclaimed, shoving a fluffy orange Orange Grove towel into Achilles’ chest after the latter had clambered slowly in to wearily drop like a stone into the wooden seat. “Better dry off good, if you get sick again, Harvey will kill me.”

Alex himself didn’t towel off, but instead grabbed the oars and began slowly rowing back to Stardew, paying special attention not to bonk any of the jellyfish on the head.

Exhausted (though he’d never admit it), it took a few minutes before Achilles realized he’d been watching Alex. An unfocused, almost detached stare, as if he were observing in an academic sort of interest—the freckles across Alex’s nose, the patch of mild sunburn below his right eye. The water running down his chest through the maze of well defined muscle. His arms flexing with each stroke of the oars.

Oh, but was it academic?

There was something else inside him—something beyond a surface-level appreciation for Alex’s obvious physical charm, something fuller; gratitude for Alex’s encouragement, appreciation for his care and concern, and…

Uh oh.

“You’re rowing next time, pal,” Alex exclaimed, pointing an oar, perhaps having mistakenly believed Achilles was watching their steady, up and down motion rather than their wielder.

You’re in trouble now, buddy.

They rowed through the remainder of the sunset in comfortable silence. The gold turned to red turned to dusty violet. Under the early moonlight, the small handful of jellyfish that were leading the pack—the promptest of the “too soon jellies,” to use Alex’s term—glowed luminescent, neon beacons following them under the water.

What to do, what to do…

What can you do?

The answer, he knew, was nothing—and so Achilles, stubbornly pragmatic as always, forced himself to pack up his little emotional revelation and stuff it deep down in the basement of his mind.

Outwards, he only leaned forward, forearms resting atop his thighs. With an easy smile, he swept aside the murmurs of his heart; it was easy to pretend nothing had changed. It had always been easy for Achilles to pretend. “So tell me about the festival—do I need to prepare anything this time?”

“Nah, no food. It’s pretty chill, folks will light lanterns, but it’s mostly just watching the jellies pass by. Not a super crowded festival, mostly old people, you know? But it’s popular first date stuff, if you can get the timing right. I suppose it can be… romantic…” There was suddenly something slightly tense in the arc of Alex’s eyebrows.

“Oh yeah?”

Alex frowned, tight lipped as he broke eye contact to glance at the jellyfish down below. There was definitely something going on here…

“Yeah… I’m going with Tanya.”

“Oh!” And to Achilles’ own surprise, despite the fact that he had somehow, in the span of one afternoon, realized he had fallen wholeheartedly in love with Alexander Mullner, he didn’t feel… bad at the news. Not even the slightest smidge of jealousy.

For days—weeks, months, really—even the slightest, accidental touch from Alex had, despite all his efforts, sent a flurry of static up his spine. He had told himself—repeatedly—that it had been stupid. He had told Haley and Emily it was nothing. But he was wrong, now. Yes, now he knew. This was more than mere physical attraction, more than just a stupid, helpless, juvenile crush.

And yet, this dramatic realization seemed to have somehow quieted the desire that he’d refused to fully acknowledge since that very first, rainy evening of the year. Calmed him. Paradoxical perhaps, but to Achilles’ logic-based mind, it seemed that finally coming to terms with the full extent of his feelings had allowed him to also finally truly come to terms with the outcome. Or, rather, lack thereof of one. No more stringing himself along, even subconsciously. Nothing more would ever arise from this, so Achilles might as well revel in what they did have. There’d clearly been a reason he’d fallen in love. Alex was, simply put, a good man. And Achilles would be lucky to keep him in his life, even if the role he played in it was a platonic one.

And so it was without a trace of either jealousy or needling anticipation that Achilles took note of Alex’s befuddled expression, delicate lips drawn down in almost a bit of a pout, and remarked, “You… don’t look happy about that.”

Alex shrugged, lurching the small boat ever so slightly to the right. “Haley doesn’t approve. Apparently she knew Tanya back in school, she doesn’t like her.”

“Okay, but do you?”

Another shrug. “She’s… pretty. Has a nice nose.”

“Wow—really, a nice nose, hmm? Truly, a five star review.”

A chuckle this time. Alex set the oars down, letting the boat coast for a moment with the evening tide. “I just feel like… I don’t know. I haven’t been on a date in awhile—”

“I find that incredibly difficult to believe.”

“Oh, no, I’ve had offers,” Alex said, biting back a smile as he shook his finger in mock consternation. “Obviously. I’ve just been… I don’t know. Busy? I don’t know, it’s fun sorta just doing your own thing, I guess, but you and Haley kept going on about Tanya though, so I figured, well… I mean. I don’t know. I just don’t think we have that much in common, and shouldn’t your girlfriend be like, I don’t know, your best friend? But I’m probably getting ahead of myself, I mean, it’s just a first date, right? Low stakes. Doesn’t mean I’m going to marry her…”

“Yeah, for sure. You’re just using it to get to know each other.”

*****

“Well, hooray! Congrats to you! How about we grab a bite at the saloon, I think you deserve a celebration, don’t you?”

They had rowed in below where Willy had his beachside shop, pulling up next to another, smaller, and significantly leakier rowboat. Achilles stepped out onto the boardwalk first while Alex tied the boat firmly to the dock, before the two sprinted up the stairs to the main level.

“What calls for a celebration?”

“You! On a boat! Swimming! In the sea! Obviously!?” With each exclamation, Alex waved both hands in the air to emphasize the unspoken “duh” of the situation.

“Oh geeze, I don’t believe having a panic attack on a boat necessarily calls for a toast—”

“Maybe not having one, but getting over one is. Hey—” Alex grabbed Achilles’ shoulder, spinning him around in the middle of the sand, and for a wild second, Achilles thought Alex was trying to kiss him.

Not so, however. Obviously.

“You don’t have to win an Artemian gold medal to justify feeling good about yourself, you know that, right? Swimming in the sea? You’ve never done that before. You’re allowed to celebrate the small wins, too.”

Right…

Ultimately, it was Achilles’ empty stomach that was predominately the reason why he allowed Alex to lead him by the arm to the saloon for a (nonalcoholic) drink. The celebration of it all still felt unearned. So he took a dip in the sea, so what? Vincent and Jas were probably doing that as soon as they could walk…

But at the Stardrop, Emily was just as excited as Alex after he had shared the news with her, and agreed wholeheartedly that a celebration was well deserved.

“It’s nice to have someone to bully you into it, I suppose,” Achilles said after the waitress left to grab their lemonades.

“Yes, those people are called ‘friends,’ Ash.”

“Well. It’s nice to have a friend, then.”

And the words left him warm.

*****

Achilles returned home feeling more at ease than he had in years. Strange, really, given the day’s start—Rasmodius’ lecture felt like eons ago. And stranger still, given the pervasive flurry of panic attacks that had followed him throughout his dealings with the open sea.

After taking some time to digest both the day and the Stardrop Saloon’s famous chicken caesar wrap, Achilles finally concluded Alex may have been right—he did deserve to feel proud. It had been quite an achievement, really, taking a swim out there. An overdue one, perhaps, but an achievement all the same. The thought added to the pleasant little glow already sitting in Achilles’ stomach, as he drew a smiley face next to the “Conquer the Sea and the Sand” and “Learn to swim, bitch!!!” notes on his mirror.

Maybe the evening’s serenity was merely the “winding down” of it all, a mellow denouement after the chaos of the day. Honestly, what had he and Rasmodius even rowed about that morning that had made him so upset? What did it matter? Nothing that an afternoon with Alex and a hearty saloon meal couldn’t help alleviate…

Achilles couldn’t remember what he and Alex had discussed at dinner—it was nothing too deep, just casual conversation, really, between friends. Perhaps something about the latest season of the House of the Phoenix TV adaptation that had just dropped… he only remembered that he had made Alex laugh.

Nevertheless, whatever it all was, after a late night shower he found himself, to a bit of his own disbelief, at his candlelit desk, a fountain pen in hand and a brand new notebook open and creased.

As he had told Elliott what seemed like a lifetime ago, some people wrote from pain—insisted that their best work could only be found after tapping into the darkest recesses of their mind for inspiration. Believing that only with suffering, with self-torture, the depths of despair, could they adequately bare their truths and create art that was worthy of being deemed “great.” But for Achilles, pain had always been paralyzing. No, Achilles wrote from peace.

#llnks #sunspraypeak #my fic #stardew valley fanfic #sdv fanfic #stardew valley alex #alex sdv #sdv farmer #stardew valley oc #aspec fanfic

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sunspray-peak · 1 year

Text

Ch. 25: Sunspray Peak

SUMMER 22-26

It was only a half hour bus ride to Sunspray. A smaller town than even Stardew (possessing just a single, tiny general store), but a popular hiking and camping destination whose balmy Summer weather attracted plenty of tourists. It was nestled higher up in the mountains and overlooked the entire county of Zuzu.

Not one to shy away from heights, Elliott made straight for the edge of the cliff to gaze dramatically through the thick morning fog that still blanketed the valley. Achilles chose instead to put a generous gap between himself and the scraggly bluffs, but even so, he could still make out stretches of the Gem Sea coast snaking along in the distance.

They had rented a small, one room cabin for four days—or, if one were to be fully accurate, Achilles had rented the cabin for four days (an offer only Elliott had weakly challenged).

Leah was already unfolding her easel by the time Achilles and Elliott returned from their brief cliffside exploration. “Figured I’d do some painting while we’re out here,” she explained, not that anyone would have expected anything else.

“I on the other hand, have removed any and all instruments of that wicked seductress that is temptation from my sight. I didn’t even bring a pencil!” Elliott rubbed his large palms together before jabbing the air with his pointer finger. “The act of writing shall not even touch my mind! I will merely go on walks through the forest. Admire the wild animals of the woods. Toast marshmallows by the glorious evening fire. And you!” With a dramatic pirouette, Elliott pivoted the aforementioned finger towards Achilles’ chest. “You, my friend. You will be with me.”

*****

For someone so determined not to write, Elliott sure was still intent to talk about little else.

Then again, Achilles didn’t mind—the hikes, as Elliott had promised, weren’t overly strenuous, but still steep enough that, combined with the Summer heat, Achilles felt much more at ease listening to Elliott prattle on about his novel than wheezing out any words himself (he was typically winded ten minutes into his hikes with Leah, who was always intent to stick her nose into other people’s business). Fuck, how long would it take before he could jog again? He had a figure to maintain…

Achilles had long lost contact with most of his writing friends, and he had to confess, it was nice to hear someone speak so passionately about a project. Apparently, Elliott had been working steadily on this novel for the past six years. Hundreds of iterations, numerous discarded plots and characters—but he was “as close to the finish line” as he’d ever been.

“I can feel it, Achilles!” Elliott had exclaimed with a half-skip, the collared sleeves of a ratty beige button down peeking out as he pumped both hands in the air. Bafflingly, he had chosen to still wear his velvet, burgundy sports coat each and every day. Maybe he really didn’t have any other clothes… “There is but this one, final key problem I need to unravel… But with luck, and your support, perhaps I shall finally be finished by year’s end!”

“That’s great news!”

All this near-constant talk of writing… Achilles had sworn it all off six years ago, and he was typically pretty good at keeping his own promises, even if they were idiotic.

Nothing to be proud of. You’re really just a stubborn bastard.

Inspired—or maybe alarmed was a more apt descriptor—by Alex’s disheartening beachside spiel the other day, Achilles had made sure to come out out of the Summer with a plan. A plan to make sure things got done, to set him back on the right track. Just let life happen to him? As if!

But after the second day, Achilles had begun to feel a little antsy (and determinedly unwanted) tingle in his hands that he hadn’t felt in ages.

Was he… wanting to write? Perhaps he was merely anxious again. Perhaps it was simply his annoying competitive streak that was the cause for this peculiar resurgence. Hearing Elliott blather on about it all day—perhaps Achilles was only wanting to write because somebody else close in his life was doing it. What was happening? By suggesting this trip, had he accidentally tricked himself into doing the very thing he had sworn off? Yoba, why was it all so confusing…

*****

Occasionally, Elliott would politely ask for a “solitary sojourn in the woods,” leaving Achilles and Leah alone to do “whatever pleased” (a generous term) “their heart most.” For Leah, that was art. For Achilles, that was, for lack of a better word, self-discovery.

Yes, Alex’s little proclamation had sent Achilles further down the quarter-life-crisis spiral (not that he had told Leah). It was time for him to get back to doing something—one couldn’t rest and relax and recreate(?) forever. But the question at hand, as he had logically written down in his notebook, was what? Of course, that was the question he had been struggling to answer for nearly two seasons now, but perhaps it was time to really write it all out. He was surprised he hadn’t done that earlier—had gotten too into the weeds of his own head with it all, perhaps. Now that his anxiety had calmed slightly for some unknown reason or another, it had been easier to take a step back. Seeing the various lists spelled out neatly (more or less) in front of him made it all the more digestible.

1) What did he like?

2) What was he good at?

3) What provided the greatest potential for success?

Today, however, he was too restless over yesterday’s mini existential writing crisis to concentrate. And so, Achilles instead spent the afternoon watching Leah work.

She had finished one painting already—a red headed woodpecker that had been spending the past three days battling its way into the trunk of a nearby oak tree. The second was a work in progress oil pastel piece depicting the flower-filled valley below.

“Do you sell these?” Achilles asked, once Leah had broken from her trance. She swirled her fingers in a tin cup of water before wiping them on her pants. After a pit stop at the cooler, she took a seat on the nearby bench next to him and popped open a bag of baby carrots. “They’re beautiful.”

“Have to make a living somehow. Farmers markets and stuff, the odd gallery or art show in Zuzu… I mean, it’s not easy to pay the bills as an artist. I know you don’t feel that as much, but Elliott and I do—”

Not willing to ever go down this road of conversation again with her, Achilles rapidly moved on.

“Do you take online orders? I think you could do really well if you set up a website. You could make one of those new social media accounts to help market—”

“Eh…” Leah offered him a carrot. A classic delaying tactic. He declined, but it was still another beat of munching before Leah continued. “It just seems too complicated. Figuring out online orders and shipping, setting up one of those accounts and all…”

“We were just starting to get into social at BRLO, you’d be surprised, they make it pretty easy, I’m happy to help—”

“I’ll think about it.” She munched on another carrot. Two minutes, and she had already had enough of the conversation apparently, it was time to turn the tables. “So what have you been up to out here? I haven’t seen you do much. Surely you’re out of crosswords by now, the rate you’ve been prowling about with that pen in your hand.”

It was at that moment Elliott returned, merrily whistling as he emerged from the line of trees. Achilles politely excused himself. Perhaps a solo hike of his own would help him clear his head. Rest and relaxation, Achilles. You only get just a couple more days of rest and relaxation…

****

The forest paths surrounding Sunspray Peak were well maintained and well traveled. It was rare for the Valleyfolk not to bump into other hikers, whether from Zuzu or beyond, during their various treks. Dogs were common, too, constantly sniffing about the squirrel and rabbit-ridden roads, often off leash—Achilles made a mental note to perhaps invite Alex and Dusty for a hike some time. Or was that too… to borrow Elliott’s phrase, suggestive?

Coward. You guys are friends…

The routes often passed a few, small cave formations. That was new for Achilles, who, despite all his travels, had never had the opportunity to get up close to one before. Some had “Do Not Enter” signs erected out front, but others—shallow and well-trod—had been fun enough to explore with Elliott and Leah. Mostly mossy boulders and bat droppings. The occasional stalactite.

Achilles, deep in thought, must have accidentally taken a wrong turn at some point, for he didn’t recognize the crumbling, black rock formations to his right. They were much too large—they looked almost manmade, really—for him to have missed them the first go around. Yes, he must’ve made a wrong turn…

There were still hours to go until sun set though, so he was mostly unconcerned. He wasn’t sure where this trail would lead, but worst comes to worst, he’d just turn around, retrace his steps. He was still on a path, it wasn’t like he was in the middle of nowhere…

He approached the rock formations. The texture was strangely smooth. It was only when his hands touched its glass-like surface did he realize it was identical to whatever material with which the Wizard had lined his mysterious black teleportation tunnel.

Interesting.

At that thought, he once again remembered the whispers and voices that had found their way into his head that terrible afternoon when he’d been sick in bed—evil spirits. Evelyn had called them “bad,” Rasmodius “malicious.”

Achilles.

Achilles jerked back his hand from the rock. “Who’s there?”

There was no response. Only the wind, whistling through the thick summer canopy of trees.

Achilles.

It wasn’t Elliott, or Leah—he knew from the first call it had to have been some type of spirit. The voice was coming from within his head, just like those that had haunted him that one feverish afternoon. But unlike his previous malevolent visitors, this voice felt… warm. It almost reminded him of the junimos. He took a step to the right, and then another, following the glossy, rock wall, half-hidden behind vines and trees.

Achilles.

The voice, despite being in his head, felt louder. Closer. He kept walking, even though he knew with each step he was getting further and further away from the trail.

The wall went on for what must’ve been nearly half a mile deeper into the woods. There were moments where the forests’s growth had completely hidden it from view, but with the mysterious voice’s help, Achilles was always able to find it again, following it steadily in a vaguely diagonal line until he came to the mouth of a cave.

Hmm.

It was clear where he was supposed to go next.

Gonna get yourself jumped if you do… and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself…

There wasn’t any sign blocking off the entrance… no warnings, no big red X’s painted along the sides. In fact, the foliage that was sprawling around the entrance looked rather neatly trimmed. Still, you didn’t have to be a master outdoorsman to know it was never a good idea to go into some random cave, especially alone, off the path, when nobody knew where the hell you were. And yet, he couldn’t shake the strange yearning that was pulling him into the darkness.

Achilles.

He stepped inside.

In here, the voice and pull both grew even stronger. After he rounded a gentle corner, only a tiny bit of sunlight was left to illuminate the cool path. But the light from the new phone he’d purchased after his old one failed to recover from the storm proved adequate enough to brighten the blackness, and the voice in his head directed him through the tunnels with ease.

After five minutes or so, it said Stop.

And so Achilles stopped.

And then… a soft rustle.

Could you please turn off the light? I am afraid I am quite sensitive to it.

Oh you are definitely getting jumped… Achilles thought. He was ready to protest, but his gut continued to assure him the owner of the voice was friendly, and so he did what he was told (though he kept one hand around the handle of a little pocket knife in his pocket). With a soft click, the cave was plunged into near total darkness.

Much better. Thank you very much. A pity about the sun, though…

There was a very soft shuffle. Something with two legs. If Achilles strained his eyes, he could just make it out… a dark, shadowy mass perhaps half a foot taller than him. Smoke-like, its eyes and mouth were simply empty, jagged holes in one, long, round figure.

“Oh fuck no—” He scrambled for his phone light again—he had seen this monster before, just last week pushing its way into his mind through the Astral Plane while he was sweating it out in his bed—

Please! Don’t be alarmed. I am different than the others, and I mean no harm! In fact, I come bearing for you a warning!

Achilles already had his phone in hand, finger resting above the flashlight button. But at the shadow creature’s cries, he held off. For now.

“Who are you?”

My name is Corvus. You do not know me, but I have a cousin—Krobus—who resides in the sewers of the Valley you call home.

“I don’t know a Krobus.”

No. But he knows you. He has been watching you—

“Are you serious? Who hasn’t been watching me, I swear to Yoba— ”

I kindly ask if you will please let me speak. I have much to tell you, and it is of the utmost importance. You are of the utmost importance. We do not have much time.

Any further protestations died in Achilles throat.

Krobus would have spoken to you himself, but he is… a rather shy fellow, so to say. But when he heard you were visiting Sunspray Peak, he asked that I deliver to you a message. Here it is:

There is a Portal in Stardew Valley. One that managed to escape destruction after the Spirit Wars. It is deep, incredibly deep, underground, and frightfully ancient—far older than many of us spirits ourselves; it is likely why it had managed to stay undetected from spirits and man alike for so long.

And perhaps it would have stayed that way—undiscovered—had it not been for the men of this Valley, three hundred years ago. They delved too deep into the mountains and in turn, woke what should have been left alone.

As the men mistakenly resurrected their new discovery, so too were the spirits of evil alerted to the reawakened Portal’s presence. It was precisely what they had waited for since the days of the Spirit Wars—a mechanism to infiltrate the Physical Plane, destroy the Elemental Walls, and annihilate all who reside there.

It was near instantaneous—the spirits of evil spewed from the Portal, and the men scrambled to staunch the siege.

But magic is no longer as strong in this Plane as it once was, so the men could confront only the symptom of this infection rather than its root cause; incapable of destroying the Portal, they made efforts to seal the spirits of evil within the confines of the mountain.

But the seals are rapidly weakening and the spirits of evil once again gaining power with the Portal’s resurgence. Gaining strength, gaining numbers. Krobus and I know this, for many are, we are ashamed to say, our brethren. The Elemental Walls in the Valley are weakening. One keystone has already fallen, and one is on its way. If any more are to succumb, there will be nothing to stem the flow of the wretched, and Stardew Valley will be lost.

Corvus took a small step forward. Upon closer inspection, he was a wispy sort of figure, barely more tangible than a literal shadow.

You must be on your guard. The spirits of evil have now identified you as a threat, and, if you let them, they will do whatever they can to destroy you.

“That’s what the Wizard told me as well,” Achilles murmured. “But he told me to just mind my business, surely they’ll leave me alone when they see I’m no threat—”

No. Your every existence is the threat. You must stay vigilant.

You must go to the mountains. You must go to the mines. And you must go the week of Spirit’s Eve, when the Walls between Planes are at their thinnest. The Portal will be at its most vulnerable at that time—but be warned. So will you.

With both hands, the shadow figure offered him something small—a stone, scarcely larger than Achilles’ thumb, that even in the darkness managed to shine all the colors of the rainbow.

Take this. To destroy the Portal, you will need it; after centuries, Krobus and I have managed to smuggle it from the Spirit World. You will have one chance, for we will not be able to do so again. You must keep it safe. Share it with no one, it can be used only by you.

Do not go alone. There is already one undertaking the task, but they will need your help.

“Who am I supposed to help? Who’s already doing this—”

Krobus does not know, for whoever they are, their gifts are not the same as yours…. he has had difficulty identifying them…

“Is this… dangerous?”

Yes. But the consequences of inaction even more so.

Fuck.

“And it can only be me?”

At this, the creature paused. A little hmmm buzzed in lieu of Corvus’ voice at the back of Achilles brain, which Achilles took for thinking.

Yes. It is your destiny. It can only be you.

*****

It was remarkably easy to find his way back to the path, and Achilles had returned to camp before the sun had even begun to set on their last evening in Sunspray.

Elliott failed to notice Achilles’ slightly troubled visage, instead handing him a peanut butter & jelly sandwich with his usual gusto. Perhaps he and Leah both assumed Achilles was simply tired from his hike—it wasn’t a false assumption. They chattered nonstop all through dinner while Achilles, still a little shaken from his encounter, munched on the pineapple he was roasting over the fire pit in silence.

Surely the thing to do would be to speak to the Wizard… all this about “spirits of evil” and Spirit Wars and Portals and Elemental Walls and what. He’d learned about some of it in school, of course, and his own recent research, but it all felt quite a bit different when you’re being told you are the only thing standing between total annihilation.

Perhaps he was being duped. It was all just a little too perfect, wasn’t it? Fuck self-discovery—was this not what he had really been searching for? Some kind of… purpose? And especially one so clearly defined as this.

And supposedly, it could only be him. That’s what the little shadow creature had said. Corvus had even used the word “destiny…”

Now surely that was too much of a coincidence. Perhaps Corvus could read minds, in addition to his demonstrated telepathic powers. Handing him, on pretty much a platter, what seemed to be the opportunity to be—though Achilles hated the phrase—the “star of the show,” so to say; feeding into the main character energy he’d always secretly sough—it was all a little too on the nose for this troubled period of his life when what he wanted more than anything was guidance to point him in precisely that direction.

But hadn’t the Wizard suggested the very same sentiment once—that Achilles had perhaps been brought to the Valley for a purpose? Was this why he was here? To save the Valley?

What a puffed up little puffin you truly are, Achilles thought.

Yes, visiting the Wizard was likely the best course of action. No harm in clarifying. Best not dive into potentially dangerous things willy nilly.

He fingered the rainbow stone in his windbreaker pocket. There was a heat to it unlike any rock he’d ever felt before. And if he pinched his fingers tight, he thought he could feel something akin to a faint heartbeat—or was it merely the blood rushing through his fingers?

It was one too many thoughts; that evening, by the firelight, he found himself breaking open his notebook to journal—really journal—for the first time in years.

Elliott, upon seeing Achilles’ uncap his pen, had been delighted. “We can write together!” he had exclaimed, failing to realize the cause for Achilles’ furious scribbling. With a dramatic gasp, Elliott, always optimistic, added, “Perhaps we can even publish together!”

Achilles smiled wanly from his notebook.

*****

The next morning, they took the early bus back from Sunspray to Stardew. Elliott was delighted to announce to all that Achilles’ advice had paid off—he was rip roaring and ready to start his writing anew. An answer to his writer’s block had indeed been found during one of his many hikes in the woods; the solution to his “one, final key problem” had struck him whilst he was watching three ladybugs battle it out for a drop of dew on some yellow tansies. This was it! The home stretch!

At the words, Achilles couldn’t help but feel a ripply of jealousy—must be nice to be excited about something. And to have that something be so clearly mapped out…

And to further fan the flames of his resentment (Achilles often joked that it’d a toss up between pride and envy that would send him to hell. Not much of a joke.), they ran into Shane at the bus stop—he was on his way to Zuzu for therapy, he muttered to Achilles. Things were still going pretty good.

While happy for his friend(?), Achilles couldn’t help but feel that bitter seed of jealousy sprout slightly further at Shane’s words. He knew it was ridiculous—was very much aware and ashamed of the feeling, because of course Shane deserved to feel good, Elliott deserved to feel good, he was glad they were feeling good—but come on. Everyone was making positive strides in their lives, and leaving him behind in the depressing dust.

#llnks #sunspraypeak #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley alex #alex stardew valley #stardew valley oc #sdv fanfic #sdv farmer #my fic

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sunspray-peak · 1 year

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Ch. 23: A Bombardment in Generosity

SUMMER 15-19

Achilles knew word spread fast through the Valley, but even so, he hadn’t expected to receive this much attention this fast. Small town hospitality… And of course, it couldn’t have been under more embarrassing circumstances, he thought, huddled like a sad little waif against the mound of pillows he’d constructed to soften his headboard. Nevertheless, despite both his protests and his shame, the townsfolk didn’t blink twice in their bombardment of generosity.

His first visitor had been the most surprising—M. Rasmodius himself had sauntered through not the front door, but the fireplace, with no warning. Of course, an early morning visit from the wizard was better than sending Achilles sprawling down that black tunnel, especially in his current condition…

“I had heard you were weak and vulnerable,” Rasmodius rumbled from the foot of the bed.

“‘Weak’ and ‘vulnerable’ aren’t precisely the words I’d use—”

“—I had felt a disturbance in the air yesterday afternoon, and rushed over as soon as I could. I apologize. I should have been here sooner, and I would have, had I not been in the middle of a force battle on the Astral Plane.”

“…right…”

The Wizard began to pace, one ring-bedecked finger tapping his purple goatee-d chin. “It seems other, more, shall we say, malicious spirits are becoming aware of your presence in the Valley and possibly seeing you as a threat. Tell me, what triggered this? It is unusual for someone of your inconsequential caliber—”

“—right—”

“—to have attracted their attention without your own visit to the Astral Plane. Tell me, boy, how have they found you?”

“Found me? I don’t know what you mean—”

Rasmodius pivoted on his heels and threw his hands theatrically in the air with an impatient tut. “The disturbance in the air—the doctor informed me that you had visions yesterday.”

“No, I was just hallucinating. I had a fever, this has happened all my life—”

“Bah!” Heavy bootsteps stalked over to the side of Achilles’ bed and a finger was shoved into his face. “Those were not mere hallucinations caused by your sad, sickly state. No, in your fragile condition, your mind was more susceptible. It must have drifted through to the Astral Plane while you were dreaming—as can happen for those with the gift—and attracted attention of the most abhorrent kind. No, you bore witness to spirits! The question is… why. As I said, it is most unusual for your mind to wander on its own to the Astral Plane without having been guided there previously, and even more unusual to have attracted so much malicious attention from those that have never smelled your scent before. You had told me your dealings with the arcane were minimal. Were you a liar?”

Now that was just too many words for Achilles’ clouded, sickly mind to comprehend. But if he knew one thing—he wasn’t a liar.

“Now how dare you—hell if I should know what—wait.”

M. Rasmodius perked up with an aggressive lift of his head.

“There was a day…” Achilles grimaced. “I… had stopped by your tower, actually, was hoping to talk to you about something, and you weren’t there…”

He told the Wizard about that strange, smoke-filled summer day when time had passed at startling speed. Rasmodius reacted little, listening intently, waiting only until Achilles had finished the story before clucking like a chastising mother hen.

“You should not have disturbed me without an invitation—I was doing important work in the Astral Plane myself the day, and due to my prodigious power, your puny mind must’ve been swept up alongside mine. The spirits must have become aware of your presence then, and now that they’ve gotten a taste for you, they’ll be able to track your scent much easier. You’ll have to be on your guard, now. You must never visit the Astral Plane again.”

“Can’t be too hard, I don’t know how I did it this last time.”

“Dreams, Achilles, your dreams! Your abilities gift you an above average aptitude for traveling between the Planes and communicating with spirits—it is why you are capable of communicating with the junimos. But now that you have been in the Astral Plane twice, it will become easier and easier for you to slip through at night without proper training. If you do so again, you will have to fight back.”

“Fight back? How the hell am I to do that?”

“It is a battle of the mind… To be frank, I’m rather impressed you were able to withstand yesterday’s assault so well. It requires quite a bit of focus.”

“Well… what can I say, I’m good at focusing…”

The Wizard clucked again and then walked him through a few, very basic meditative exercises that were also supposedly to help him keep his mind grounded in the Physical Plane at night.

“Now, I suppose those fellows may have had a hand in your triumph over those malicious spirits, as well.” He turned and nodded at the latest trio of junimos resting in the corner. “Remarkable, their attachment towards you…

“You must listen to me. These malicious spirits—they are dangerous. They can corrupt your mind and your thoughts and your desires if you let them in. You must be vigilant. I myself have been more concerned than usual lately… they have seem extra agitated these past few weeks, and I haven’t yet found the answer why—”

But as Rasmodius spoke, he seemed to come to a sudden realization. A shadow crossed his face as he cut his own words off and straightened himself up. “We made a deal…” he hissed under his breath, moustache twitching as his gaze rested on an empty patch of air to Achilles’ right.

After a beat punctuated by low, angry mutters and a deeply furrowed brow, he turned back again to Achilles with a new glare in his eyes. “You. You keep your nose out of the Astral Plane and spirit affairs, hear me? No matter who comes knocking, you stay out. The consequences are grave if you don’t.” And he promptly disappeared in a puff of lavender smoke.

*****

Leah had been his first lifesaver, dropping by shortly after the Wizard with a tea from Pierre’s, plus a bevy of essential oils, candles, and homemade bath bombs.

Alex had waltzed in after lunch without either knocking (as, Achilles would quickly realize, most of the townsfolk were apt to do when a door was unlocked) or announcing himself, but Achilles thought he recognized his footsteps and the jangle of Dusty’s collar.

Lo and behold, a minute or so later, it was indeed Alex who peeked his head around the corner of Achilles’ bedroom before fully stepping remorsefully into frame. Even Dusty’s tail was in between his legs.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve taken you to Harvey’s straight away—”

“No, no.” Achilles rushed to lift himself up to a more dignified position against his headboard and took a sip from the tea. “Let’s just agree to blame Harvey for taking so damn long to answer the door, shall we? Seriously, what was the man doing…”

“Grandpa got pneumonia last year and we got him one of these.” Alex gave the humidifier he had dragged in a smack and set it by the window before heading for the bathroom sink with a cup. “Figured you could get some use out of it this week.”

“You should keep an eye on yourself, could’ve passed it on to you.”

“Nah—Grandma and I both got vaccinated after that happened, so hey, I’m on top of the world. Let me know if there’s anything we can do to help. Harvey says you gotta rest up!”

Did doctor patient confidentiality not exist in the Valley?

Alex returned from the bathroom, humidifier now adequately humidified, and plugged the machine in. “Glad you’ll be forced to take your ‘Summer of Rest and Relaxation slash Recreation” seriously now—I had originally just said ‘relaxation,’ by the way. I have to ask though… ’Be hot, do crime? Nice post-it notes.’”

Achilles made a mental note to get Robin to add a guest bathroom.

*****

Emily and Gus could be counted upon to drop off two hearty meals per day, leaving Abigail to take the mantle every morning of delivering breakfast, his usual tea, and, apparently as a bonus, the latest town gossip.

“Folks are saying you talked Shane off a cliff,” she said, perched at the end of his bed, a little too closely to Achilles’ cough attack radius, with absolutely no concern for herself. “Whatever you told him, it must be working. He hasn’t purchased any beer from us the past two days, and, like, even going one day without a purchase is a big deal for him. Just Joja cola and sparkling water. Good for you!”

“Good for Shane, really, it’s not easy…”

He blew his nose, a gross, honking noise, into an already slimy tissue. What a contrast they were—James had been right at Alex’s party, Achilles couldn’t help but notice. Abigail was looking good—strong, healthy, toned. Except—

“Everything okay? What happened there?” Achilles gestured vaguely in the direction of her cheek, where a thin but long cut had begun to scab.

She waved his concerns aside, and in fact made a point to crawl even closer to Achilles, her knees parallel to his own on top the covers, to better show him additional scrapes, cuts, and purple bruises scattered across her arms and legs.

“Nah, I’m all good. You want to see a really gnarly thing…” She rolled her shirt up slightly to reveal what seemed to be a four inch long burn. “You know… just been exploring the woods and thangs, there’s some pretty crazy stuff out there!

“You should join me again some time—once you’re all rested up, of course, because right now, no offense, you look terrible, I’m surprised you can even, like, walk to the bathroom. I mean, you are walking to the bathroom, right, like you’re not wearing an adult diaper—”

“I can walk to the bathroom, Abigail.”

“Speaking of which, you need any help with those bags of mulch sitting by the entrance? Happy to carry them over to the flower beds if you need…”

*****

Even Lewis had stopped by, waltzing in through the door that Achilles figured he should probably get around to locking now. He took it upon himself to move the various half-finished (the drugs had made it difficult for Achilles to focus; a blessing in disguise, for for the first time in his life, he had seemed content to do… nothing) crossword books on Achilles’ nightstand aside to make space for an edible arrangement that was 90% honeydew.

Oh dear lord…

The mayor took a moment to look around the bedroom—his face was impassive, but Lewis’ eyes lingered a bit too long on the very bare walls. Zero photographs, no paintings, no potted plants. In fact, the only piece of decor outside of the full length mirror was a vase of flowers that Maru and Sebastian had dropped off the other day and a plush bok choy Achilles had been gifted years ago that he occasionally used as a neck rest.

After scrutinizing the place, Lewis, like Abigail, took a seat on Achilles’ bed. Gross.

“How are things, Achilles? It is, of course, my duty and honor to check in on Stardew Valley’s finest members of the community!”

Lewis leaned over to pat Achilles’ hand. Even grosser. He had to fight the urge to wipe it.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing better—I thought I would let you know the first order of books you placed for the museum library has been delivered. Gunther and I are incredibly grateful for your generosity. I was curious, perhaps, if you were interested in potentially sponsoring a renovation for Pelican Park as well?”

*****

Elliott, loyal friend that he was (and unemployed friend that he was), made sure to stop by every day to help clean and declutter. Get well soon cards and take out boxes were scattered about the bedroom, and as much as Achilles loved Gus’ fish tacos, the containers did typically start to smell after half a day.

He also made sure to bring Achilles some reading material. After Rasmodius’ visit, Achilles had been more eager than ever to learn about the history of spirits in Stardew, but had failed to find much online. Unfortunately, Elliott was at an equal loss.

“Nothing in the museum here, nothing in the libraries in Moonmist or Zuzu, either! Not even a footnote! It is most mysterious… but I have found you some general materials on the arcane, if you were interested…”

He might as well—he hadn’t much better to do while lying in bed, though the aforementioned materials turned out to be nothing he hadn’t already learned in school. Then again, there was nothing wrong with a little review…

“…first is the Physical, the plane with which we humans are most familiar and call home; then comes the Spirit Plane, in which spirits of all classifications reside after the Spirit Wars; and finally, there is the Astral Plane, also known as the Border Plane. Arguably the most vital of the three, the Astral Plane houses the Elemental Walls, which serve as both bridges and barriers between the planes. It is these Walls, constructed in the aftermath of the Spirit Wars and the destruction of the Portals, that prevent everyone but the most powerful individuals, man and spirit, from traveling freely amongst the three planes…”

Portals? That wasn’t something they had ever been taught in school. He’d have to add it to the list…

*****

Achilles was enjoying the eucalyptus scented steam of Leah’s labor, when a pitch perfect, hummed rendition of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20 in D Minor announced today’s Elliott Visit.

“In the bath,” he shouted thickly through the phlegm still in his throat. Nasty, though he’d take it over Lewis sitting on his bed any day. He glanced at the post-it notes still stuck to his mirror—unlike Alex, Elliott surely wouldn’t roast him for them… probably wouldn’t even notice…

Elliott appeared in the doorway, a bag of donuts and two teas in his hands.

“Good morning, my friend,” he said, taking a hurried seat on the toilet without invitation. “Young Abigail asked me to drop these off in her stead. She sends her condolences, but she is currently occupied with matters of the most importance! I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Well…” Achilles glanced at the bubbles he had been herding to form a rather impressive bubble beard, and scooted himself up slightly to get a better look at Elliott’s perpetually eager face. “No, of course not. Just taking a bath.”

With a thick “thanks very much,” he took one of the cups gingerly from Elliott, wiping his wet fingers on the towel hanging nearby.

Elliott repositioned his long legs, crossing them as he scooted around the toilet seat.

Achilles waited for Elliott to speak—the man always wore his emotions melodramatically on his sleeve and was clearly here for more than the usual chat. The only trouble was, the anguish that was so clearly brewing behind his hazel eyes could be explained by quite a number of factors of varying urgency. Even the little things were big things when it came to Elliott.

Achilles took a little sip. He wasn’t usually a chai man, but the lavender chai wasn’t bad, not bad at all…

“Achilles, I must confess… I also came here for advice.”

No surprises there. “Oh, for sure, what’s up?”

“But if you are feeling too ill…”

“No, no, not at all. I’ve been feeling a lot better.”

Elliott nodded, savoring Achilles’ consent.

“Friend to friend, writer to writer… I need your advice on overcoming writer’s block.”

Achilles frowned, just slightly. Damn. Back to writing advice, huh? Although, to be fair, Achilles wasn’t quite sure what other advice Elliott would be so desperate to seek from him. But writer’s block? Achilles had a unique relationship with that little pest of a condition.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure if I’m the right person to ask—”

“I must confess, I have been at my wit’s end—my inspiration has dwindled. I sat at my desk for hours and hours yesterday, but scarcely wrote 1000 words. I tried to blame the tourists at first, but even after I replanted myself in Cindersap—still, nothing! What comes next? You’ve written a wealth of novels, my friend, you must have had some experience! You must understand how much I respect you, both as an author and as a friend!”

“‘Wealth of novels’ is pretty generous, they were third grade chapter books—“

“Anything, anything you can share. I have simply been in such an insurmountable rut for the past week—“

“Wait, hold the phone,” Achilles said, pulling himself up again (he had been slowly descending back into the blanket of bubbles). “This has been going on… for a week? You’ve had writer’s block, for a week?”

“Yes, a true tragedy —“

“Elliott… actually, let’s talk on the porch, I can’t sufficiently yell at you from down here.”

*****

Fifteen minutes later, he met Elliott on the porch steps, dressed in some fleecy blue pajama pants with “Joja” written on the side (a holiday gift from the corporation during his BRLO days that, no matter how much he wanted to burn, were just too cozy) and a robe.

He took a donut from the bag and took a seat.

“Elliot,” he began after a swallow. “A week is nothing. Stop stressing over the book, go for a walk—go for a swim, you live right there. Take a break, you’ll be back in business in no time.”

“Is that what you did? Take a break?”

A hiss of air escaped from Achilles’ lips. “Ah, well you see…”

“A ha!”

“No, it’s not what you think—ok, first, I just want to reiterate that being stuck for a week should barely constitute as writer’s block.

“And second, if I’m honest, I… never really had writer’s block, at least, not when I was writing Henry Spector. I know that’s incredibly annoying to hear, but I don’t know. Like sure, I’d have a week or so where I wouldn’t write, but it was never anything sustained. But, to be fair, I mean, they were also just silly little middle school books, not like, literature literature, not what you’re writing…”

He looked over at Elliott, whose long face was still utterly despondent as he sorrowfully munched a donut of his own.

Achilles sighed. “Ok, I’ll give you two pieces of advice.”

Immediately, the forlorn writer looked up from his donut, a renewed earnestness glimmering in his eyes. “Yes! I will take anything, my friend.”

“Some of my old writer friends did genuinely benefit from taking breaks. Sometimes it was a day, sometimes it was a month—they’d just go out and do something completely unrelated to writing. The key was giving themselves enough time to really ‘step out,’ per se, of their writer brain, and just let themselves forget about their work. I don’t know, perhaps that’s worth exploring for you. Why don’t you… go on a camping trip with Leah or something? I’m not saying it’s going to solve the problem, but it could be nice to even just get out for a week. Take the time to learn more about yourself beyond your writing—let yourself be more than a writer. Take some time to let go, to detach and live in the real world.”

To Achilles, the advice seemed rather banal, but Elliott seemed to be taking a methodical minute to soak it in, nodding slowly as he rolled the suggestion around in his head.

“And did you find this tactic of use? Even during those week or so’s you wouldn’t write? Stepping away? Distracting yourself?”

Achilles snorted, licking some donut powder off his fingers. “I mean, no. I never tried that little tactic out, I never had writer’s block long enough to warrant it, really. But it does bring me to my second piece of advice, I suppose—to be clear, I truly think everybody has different solutions. Some people just need that distraction. Other people just need to force themselves to keep putting words on the page, hoping they’ll uncover something worthy, and knowing they’ll just edit out all the unnecessary shit later. I guess I fell more into the second bucket.”

“But inspiration—“

“Inspiration is great. I get that—when you find some idea, a character, whatever, that you just can’t stop thinking about, that you have to put on the page—great. Some people are just capable of reaching inside themselves and drawing from whatever pain, or unearth whatever story, that’s begging to be let out. But writing can have its honeymoon period too, when you’re far enough in that the glamor is gone and you realize that it’s a job like any other. How I see it, you can’t depend on inspiration just coming to you. Sometimes you have to find it yourself. Or, shall I say, make it yourself. Put your nose to the grind or whatever the phrase is, explore a million avenues, even if they’re all terrible, to eventually mine and commit to what’s actually worthy in the heap of trash you threw on to the page.”

Once again, Elliott took a silent minute to thoroughly process Achilles’ rather basic advice. His follow-up question this time, however, Achilles found unpleasantly unexpected.

“If that’s what worked for you, if I may ask, why did you quit writing? I suppose I always assumed you simply had a exceedingly long bout of writer’s block.”

“Ah…”

Donut long eaten, Achilles was forced to gnaw on the lid of his cup of tea as he debated how exactly to answer the question. Would he even answer it?

“It wasn’t writer’s block that made me stop writing. I still had some ideas for… things. Ideas were never really the problem.

“I know I said I didn’t really get writer’s block, and that wasn’t a lie. But Apparition was still a pain in my ass to write. I was passionate about the story, but the actual writing of it all—the literal pen to paper—it just didn’t come as organically. I don’t know if that’s because I just wasn’t… a strong enough writer for adult literature or what, or if a part of me just legitimately didn’t want to write anymore. But, you know, I was too far into it to let myself quit and just made myself see it through. I mean it ended up being a load of shit, so, moral of the story is, take all my advice with a grain of salt…

“My problems with being a writer were more about the why, I guess, instead of the what. Especially after Apparition, I just… it became clear I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of writing anymore. I didn’t really see a future there, and eventually just… stopped wanting to do it.”

After a long beat, Elliott looked over to Achilles.“Maybe I will… take a break… take your suggestion. Would you be interested in camping with me?”

“Me? I don’t know if Harvey would be OK with that, he told me to take it easy for the next few weeks… why not ask Leah?” Achilles eyed him closely for a reaction.

Elliott frowned—such a small sad, but innocent little frown, a tiny tilt of his lips, his brow just the slightest bit furrowed.

“I fear a camping trip would be too suggestive. I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

“If I get the OK from Harvey, we could all go together. So it’ll be clear it’s just as friends. How does that sound?”

A sunrise dawned on Elliott’s face as he clasped Achilles’ hands. “How blessed I am to have such a generous friend! That sounds like a splendid idea—I’ll talk to Leah this week! We’ll stay close—we could drive to Sunspray, they have some wonderful camping grounds, and some exceedingly gentle hikes. How is early next week, my friend?”

“Sounds great to me. Always easy when none of us have real 9-5 jobs.” Achille couldn’t help but drily add the second sentence. He still wasn’t sure how Elliott even afforded food; luau leftovers only carried you so far.

“Splendid, splendid. Thank you, my dear friend, for your offer and your pearls of wisdom. Please, if there’s every anything I can assist you with, you know I am but a mere 40 minute walk away.”

“You want to help me by taking this edible arrangement off my hands?”

“Oh—I couldn’t.”

“Don’t be polite, I’m allergic to honeydew.”

“Oh, well in that case…”

*****

Shane appeared the very last day of Achilles’ five day prescribed bed rest. Marnie and Jas had stopped by earlier in the week to drop off some sugar cookies (which Achilles had promptly given to Elliott—he hadn’t much of a sweet tooth to begin with, and Evelyn’s vanilla and snickerdoodle were far superior anyway) and Abigail, of course, brought the occasional tidbit of information, but by and large, Shane himself had stayed away. Until Friday evening.

Unlike most everyone else, this visit began with a knock at the door. Achilles, who, contrary to Abigail’s observations, was capable of walking about, if slowly, opened it to see Shane, eyes glued to the ground per usual, a plastic bag in his hands.

“Hey. Come on in.” Achilles waved him inside, but Shane shook his head.

“Just wanted to drop these off.” He handed the bag over to Achilles. A cursory glance revealed two frozen pizzas, a 6 pack of lemon flavored sparkling water, and a very random assortment of paperbacks likely nicked from the shelf at Joja.

“Oh, sure. Thanks.” Achilles dug out Pleasures of the Pirate King which featured a scantily clad woman being held at cutlass-point by an equally scantily clad pirate. “They really have these on the shelf of that grocery store? Like, in plain view and everything? Fuck, I should tell BRLO, we were advertising the wrong shit…”

Shane didn’t laugh.

“Also wanted to let you know I’ve been… doing better.”

Achilles dropped the second erotic paperback back into the bag and looked up, forgetting Shane wasn’t making eye contact anyway. “Oh. That’s… I’m glad to hear that.”

“The therapist is good. I’ve cut back on the beers some… Joja still sucks but can’t fix everything right away, right?” Shane attempted a smile.

“Hey, you’re taking steps, and that’s important. I’m glad you’re getting help.” Yoba, had these words felt this hollow to say for his friends back in the day?

“Yeah…”

Shane shifted his weight, his Joja cap pulled taught between his fingers—they were already looking less red, the joints less swollen.

“Well… that was it. Have a good night.”

*****

After dinner, Achilles had planned to spend the evening reading A Scandal in Baccharia (Sherlock Holmes with a twist? Nope. The title had betrayed him, he should have judged the contents by the lusty white-robed and laurel-crowned figures on the cover instead), but found Shane’s visit, in combination with Elliott’s hunt for writing advice, had instead spurred an overdue trip down memory lane. Especially now that the brain-fogging antivirals were more or less out of his system, Achilles found himself able to sustain a thought uninterrupted for the first time since Alex’s birthday party.

The thought unfortunately happened to be in regards to the steamy synopsis and “Ferngill Times Bestseller!” badge scrawled on the back of Unmasking the Merman—although rather than turning him on, it had only made him vaguely uncomfortable. And then it made him anxious. This was the sort of book he was sharing accolades with, huh?

He had been honest with Elliott, but it hadn’t been the whole truth. He could’ve shared more, but the full details were too embarrassing. Immature, really, his overblown reaction to the whole affair that would ultimately end in the conclusion of his writing career.

On paper, it had started with—who else? That damn Eddie Bloomsbury—but the writing had been on the wall the moment a part of Achilles decided he’d write for his pride rather than for his heart. A small distinction, but a significant one. He had bound his definition of success to the judgement of others. And, of course, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, what Achilles had always wanted more than anything else in this world was well-deserved success and notoriety, and so it shouldn’t have been surprising that the association of his name with any hint of “failure” (as he had been apt to describe it) had, like Shane’s, resulted in his own (coincidentally also very wet) crisis of sorts, as well as a two year venture into therapy. He’d driven himself mad and had subsequently never known a day’s peace since.

If he were in the same position today, he likely would’ve reacted differently. He was older. Wiser. More mature. But still too stubborn. And he had since moved on.

But to what? Strangely enough, his week battling pneumonia had calmed his anxiety. It had given his brain a simple task, but a task all the same: rest. And now that that was pretty much over, was he not right back where he was seven years ago? Just one season ago? No plans, no goals.

This was supposed to be his Summer of rest and relaxation. Well, he had had plenty of rest… surely it was time he got himself together. Was this all not just another form of writer’s block? Was life block a thing? He simply had to keep exploring, keep trying, keep plowing forward…

#llnks #sunspraypeak #stardew valley fic #stardew valley fanfic #stardew fanfic #stardew valley alex #stardew valley oc #stardew alex #stardew farmer #sdv oc #sdv fic #sdv farmer

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sunspray-peak · 1 year

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Ch. 19: Purple Smoke

TUESDAY - SUMMER 9

After both another early morning lesson—in which Alex couldn’t help but begrudgingly acknowledge Achilles’ progress, to Achilles’ absurd (but hidden) delight—and yet another peculiar run in with a junimo on the beach, Achilles decided it was time to go full steam ahead with Project #2 (Operation: What the Fuck is a Junimo was now a sticky on his mirror). It wasn’t very rest or relaxation or even recreation of him, but it wasn’t anything major, and he wanted to do it—and he couldn’t just pass that up. Want was a hard thing for him to come by these days; if he found it, he had to go for it, no question.

He had considered taking Alex up on his offer to ask Evelyn about the junimos, but that likely involved also interacting with George, whom Achilles was feeling rather lukewarm about, especially after Sebastian had shared some choice words the man had once said to him after Seb had come out five or so years ago.

So instead, he took a lap inside the community center, which he hadn’t visited since that cloudy Spring day with Abigail, Sam, and Sebastian. Unlike the last time, when it had seemed to be as empty as a tomb, Achilles encountered quite a number of junimos scurrying and chittering about, clearing debris and mending rips in the carpet.

However, despite all the forest spirits hard at work, the center looked to be in even worse condition than last time. A black sludge was oozing through cracks in the walls. The dust was thicker. Even the shadows in the corners seemed darker, despite the blazing sun shining through shattered windows.

“Do you need help?” Achilles asked, squatting down to “chat” with a blue fellow who seemed to have been using his gumdrop body to wipe down the giant glass tank in the atrium. Perhaps he could give them a hand and refurbish the center once he was finished revamping the library. With Abigail and Emily’s help, he had passed out a number of his reading surveys to the townsfolk, plus a number of tourists, yesterday at Pierre’s General Store and the Saloon.

The blue junimo gazed sorrowfully at Achilles, and shook its round body, swaying left to right to left against the glass. No words had been spoken, yet he could almost feel the spirit’s response—perhaps his magical abilities were, in fact, getting stronger. They had just needed some practice.

Ho ho ho… look at you…

“You said there’s nothing I can do here? Why’s that?”

The junimo chittered, waving its black, twig-like arms, the little leaf on the stem-like appendage coming from the top of its head bouncing in its agitation. Around him, several other junimos began to join, squeaking and pushing him towards the door.

“Hey now, just trying to help,” Achilles retorted, standing back up. “But all right, all right, I’ll give you space.”

Clearly rebuffed by the apple-shaped spirits, he left the center, but was determined to continue this little quest for knowledge on his own. Perhaps the Wizard would be in a good mood and be willing to share more about the magical going-ons of the Valley.

He took the long way around in Cindersap—these days, he was always looking for ways to kill time—past Marnie’s ranch and Leah’s cottage (he had finally paid a visit to the artist the other day and found her artwork indeed quite beautiful, if a little too abstract for his tastes), across the river and down along the cliffs, when he bumped into Shane sitting beneath the shade of an old pine.

Outside of that first day on the beach, they hadn’t had much of a chance to exchange words since Achilles had decided to stay in the Valley—there was obviously nothing more to do on the farm, and Achilles never visited JojaMart, where Shane was still working, if he could help it. While the two did usually cross paths in the saloon every night, Shane, always nursing a beer, was rarely in the mood for a chat.

And so was the case here, too, seemingly. Achilles approached, hand raised in a greeting, but Shane had visibly huffed and turned so that it was mostly only his back that was now visible. But Achilles was in a determined mood of his own today—though perhaps, like Shane, that wasn’t too unusual.

“Everything all right, Shane? How are you holding up?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah?” Achilles paused, trying hard to avoid looking down the cliffside. Even standing three feet away was giving him the heebie jeebies. How Shane could sit with his feet dangling off the edge was wild to him. And while likely buzzed on beer, too—although, perhaps that was making it easier… “What are you up to?”

“Decompressing. Got my snacks. Got some beers. Busy week at Joja. All them tourists, you know.” Shane beat his chest with his fist and burped. “‘Scuse.”

“I see…” The checkered picnic blanket Shane was sitting on was wrinkled and stained. Three beers had already been drunk, the cans crushed and scattered among the greasy paper plates of half-eaten pepper poppers and pizza.

Upon closer inspection, Shane himself was also looking worse for wear. Bloated, an uneven shave, dark circles under his eyes—he looked worse than how he had before working on the farm last Spring.

Achilles began to take single, tentative step forward before thinking better of it and remaining by the path. Nevertheless, he called, “Do you… want company? That pizza looks… good.”

Shane scoffed before wiping his mouth with his sleeve and responding coldly, “Nah, I’m all right, thanks.”

Achilles knew Shane well enough to know he meant business. From his own experience, sometimes it truly did feel better to be alone… all the same, he left a message for Marnie sharing Shane’s location as he made his way back across the water, traipsing through a tiny river island before crossing yet another bridge back to the mainland and towards the Wizard’s tower.

How nice to be able to walk right up to it rather than being whisked away into a black tunnel, he thought ruefully to himself.

He gave a sturdy knock, but the door must’ve already been ajar, for it creaked open as soon as his knuckles hit the wood. Not raised to be a snoop, that devilish little voice inside his head nevertheless decided to make a sudden appearance, urging him to slip through anyway. And so he did, calling “Rasmodius?” as he entered the tower.

There came no response. But from under his feet, he could just feel a slight, strange, vibration, almost like a murmur, tickling up through his feet and into his head. Something pushed him to take another step.

A dusky purple smoke that had been lingering towards the floor began to rise. It clouded the room, thickly engulfing his lungs. Before he could even finish turning back for the door, the smoke wrapped itself around him, pinning his arms. The murmurs morphed into rasping, indecipherable whispers, ringing in his skull.

Frozen. Unable to even blink, the shadowy smoke’s hold on him was so strong. Desperate calls for help were trapped just behind his lips. A rotting scent…

Oh now you’ve done, you dumb bitch.

He tried to move—even just flex a pinkie, but he was utterly trapped in his own body. The noise in his head was growing louder and louder, the grip the smoke had on his wrists tighter and tighter.

What an idiotic idea, what had he been thinking walking into a Wizard’s tower uninvited? Where the hell was Rasmodius.

The whispers were now shrieks—but the words. The words he couldn’t make out, but they pulsed, pulsed within his skull at a deafening volume, choking his mind till his brain felt utterly numb. No thoughts. Just a dull sense of nothing.

And then, from the corner of his frozen eyes, he could just make out through the window a bouncing mass of junimos who were swiftly arranging themselves into a pyramid. Arms wriggling, antennas wobbling as they crawled atop each other. He could feel them—feel their calls, and with an audible crack, he broke from the trance.

Without a millisecond’s delay, he made straight for the door—best not meddle unannounced with a Wizard ever again, he thought, wrenching the door back and skittering down the stone steps. Time to change plans. He could put up with George for one evening, micro aggressions were easier to ignore than being caught in the middle of a magic spell.

Strange.

It was dark outside. And the junimos nowhere to be seen.

He checked his watch. Nearly 9pm—he had somehow spent ten hours in the tower.

Fucking magic.

Still a little dazed from the events, he shook his head violently, trying to clear any residual smoke that may have lingered in his ears. His cell phone vibrated—low battery, apparently, despite a full charge that morning.

Seeing a couple of missed calls from Marnie spurred him to action, and he jogged to the ranch. There, the bushy haired rancher was sitting eyes closed in a rocking chair on the front porch with little Jas who was playing with a few dolls. Achilles had never gotten a chance to properly introduce to himself to Shane’s goddaughter, and gave her a wave. “Hi Jas! I’m Achilles.”

Jas looked at him blankly before scurrying to the rocking chair. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers…”

“Nonsense,” Marnie chided, jolting from the chair—seems like she hadn’t entirely been asleep. “Jas, this is Mister Robinson, the man your uncle was helping out last Spring. You’ve seen him before, haven’t ya? Say hello.”

“Hello…” Jas shot him a suspicious look before getting back to her dolls.

“Eh, don’t you worry about her.” Marnie stood from the chair. “How ya doing, neighbor? Now I noticed you haven’t come round asking ‘bout farm animals even though Shane said you’re not looking to sell anymore.”

“Ah… not looking to sell, but I still don’t think I’ll be doing much farming, I’m afraid.”

Marnie tutted, shuffling towards the front door. “Come on in, stay a bit, let me grab you a drink…” Achilles began to follow her—he had never stepped foot inside the ranch before—but upon seeing a pair of wrinkled, violently purple and definitively male underpants in plain sight on the floor of what seemed to be Marnie’s bedroom (he didn’t believe Shane would have a vase of fresh flowers on his dresser), he swiftly retreated back to the porch.

“I’ll thank ya for the message, by the way,” Marnie said upon her returning, handing him an icy glass of sweet tea. She gestured for him to take the opposite chair as she settled back into her own. “Went out looking for Shane once it got dark, but couldn’t find him by the cliffs—that’s why we called ya, thought maybe you’d have a good idea where he went.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, I saw I missed you call—that’s why I came by, actually, were you able to find him…?”

“Oh yeah. We must’ve just missed each other, me and him. Ended up findin’ him back here at the ranch, passed out in his bedroom. The usual. Mopin’ around, surrounded by that trash he drinks…” She shook her head, and added in a low voice so Jas couldn’t here. “What to do with that man…”

Achilles bit his lip—was it really his place to say something? He and Shane, they weren’t close…

“Has… has he ever perhaps considered therapy? Or perhaps some sort of treatment facility—I’m sure Dr. Harvey has suggestions—”

He was cut off by Marnie’s laugh, loud and garish enough that Achilles could tell she was overcompensating. Pain was never easy to hide.

“Oh AH-sheel… we’ve tried, but Shane’s always been stubborn as an ass. It’ll take a lot more than this to get that man to realize he’s got a problem…”

#llnks #sunspraypeak #stardew valley #stardew fanfic #sdv fanfic #sdv oc #stardew valley alex #sdv alex #sdv farmer #sdv shane

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Ch. 18: Vitamin Sea

SUNDAY - SUMMER 7

For two more days, Achilles and Alex had continued their early morning swim lessons. The rainbow on his right arm had since been joined by a smiling blue jellyfish, an arctic fox, and a t-rex (he’d received two yesterday for an “extra good job”). A fast learner thanks to online video tutorials, Emily’s occasional guidance, and an overfilled bathtub, by the end of their lesson on Thursday, Achilles was leaving his anxiety mostly on the sand, and had been able to swim both a pretty self-respecting breakstroke and freestyle across the length of the tide pool.

The mornings with Alex had been his favorite times of the day—the Alex of it all aside, the water was refreshing, and he felt, as pathetic as it was (in his eyes) for a grown man, the teeniest, tiniest semblance of pride to be learning how to finally swim. Though any time he got too cocky during their lessons, Alex had threatened to row him into the sea and dump him overboard.

They had been unable to practice Friday and Saturday, for those were the days Alex returned to Zuzu to teach at Orange Grove, so Achilles had secretly taken it upon himself to practice right after sunrise in the tide pools alone, when the world was still quiet. Oh how quickly his preferences could change—he scarcely found himself thinking about Hyacinthia’s chaos these days.

He knew, in the back of his mind, it was stupid to venture out alone. He was still very much a novice. But while he knew Emily or even Elliott would likely be happy to watch him and make sure he didn’t drown, he still couldn’t overcome the embarrassment.

27 years old and able to drive a boat but unable to swim. Hmph.

On Sunday, however, he had had a bit of a late start, for he and Elliott had had yet another lengthy, late night dinner conversation after bumping into each other at the local “museum”—if one could really call it that. With about two tiny archeological displays and the paltriest library selection he had ever seen, Achilles, who had been looking to pursue Spooky Summer Project #2 and learn more about the local forest spirits, had spent the afternoon flipping through a tattered books on goblins by an M. Jasper. Perhaps he’d purchase a new library for the town (including copies of his own books, of course), maybe kick it off with a little survey around the community to see what folks liked… because, really, these empty shelves were just sad.

Since the sun had long risen by the time Achilles left the farm for Pelican Town, he knew the tide pools would likely be crowded, and though his swimming skills had finally reached a level where he felt ready to be perceived, he didn’t particularly think it right to hog the small space usually filled with children. Nevertheless, it was a wickedly hot day, and to spend it on the shores in the breezy beach air (which he was slowly learning to, if not love, dislike slightly less) wasn’t unwelcome. He could invite Elliott. Perhaps he could get started on putting together that book survey…

“That’s a good boy, Dusty!”

Achilles froze on the cobblestone path by Dr. Harvey’s. Alex was just ahead. He’d likely had just gotten back from a walk with Dusty, for he was unlocking the gate to the dog’s grassy pen.

“You might be the only one around here who understands me, buddy. No one else has seen the kind of stuff you and I have, huh? That’s a good boy.” Achilles could seen Alex give Dusty a good scratch behind the ears before unclipping the leash and standing to grab some treats from the box hanging from one of the fence posts. It was then that Alex caught Achilles—who had neglected to hide—staring from the clinic.

Alex waved. “Achilles! Hey, man.”

“Oh—hi!” He gave a slightly sheepish wave in return. “Didn’t see you there.”

Nothing to do but commit to the bit. Pretending he hadn’t heard that depressing little monologue, Achilles made his way over and joined Alex at the pen. He took a seat inside the fenced in yard and allowed Dusty to take a hefty seat in his lap.

“Who’s a good boy, Dusty?” Achilles murmured, rubbing the panting dog’s neck as Alex snapped a few dog biscuits in half.

Dusty’s collar jangled as he bopped around in Achilles’ lap, and in casual curiosity, Achilles took a closer look at the metal tags clacking against each other. A pink one indicated Dusty was up to date on vaccines, nice; a bright blue bone had “Dusty Mullner” engraved above Alex’s address, 1 River Road. But there was oddly a third tag—this one more worn than the others, a yellow-green heart that had an address from outside of Zuzu and a different name.

“Dusty Andrews?” Achilles asked, turning to Alex who was now squatting in front of the panting dog, feeding him the pieces of biscuit one by one.

“Ah…” For just a second, Alex’s face darkened, but when he stood back up, after wiping his slobbery, crumb-dotted hands on the grass, he seemed more weary than upset at Achilles’ query.

“My dad’s last name. My mom and I picked out the tag way back when. Honestly, I kind of forgot about it… I guess I could take it off, it’s probably confusing with the old address and stuff…” Alex took a closer look at the heart shaped tag, too, weighing it in his hand as Dusty collapsed onto the ground to take a nap.

He took a seat next to Achilles on the grass, uncharacteristically hunching over, legs criss crossed in front of him, the toe of his right sneaker an inch away from Achilles’ shoe.

“My father wasn’t a good guy… actually, no, I’ll say it, he was an asshole. He ruined everything for me and my mom.”

Alex’s fingers began shredding one of the many purple petaled sweet peas that grew wild among the Valley.

“Okay, well, maybe not everything, but he sure didn’t help. Half the time he was gone… the other half he’d drink all night, yell, throw things, tell me I’m worthless, that I’d never amount of anything, you know, that whole shebang, whatever. He never apologized and he could never admit he was wrong.

“I used to think he hated me for screwing up his life. Stuck with a dumb kid he didn’t want, or something like that. But now, I think he resented me for just being, I don’t know, young… because he’d wasted his youth doing nothing and had gotten nowhere in life. That’s my take on it now, anyway, or at least Grandma’s take on it—I mean it’s not like I’d been doing much with my life as a 10 year old… not like I’m doing much with it now… but I mean, there’s wasn’t much for him to be bitter over. But hey, who knows what was going on in his mind.”

A sudden breeze scattered the little shreds of sweet pea from his tiny pile across the pen. Alex’s eyes followed their various paths through the air for a few moments, before leaning back into the fence, his head now tipped up facing the sky.

“He left 14 years ago today. Soon after that, Mom got real sick. We moved to Pelican Town, back in with my grandparents. I never left. Changed my last name, though, when I turned 18.” He twisted Dusty’s tag between his fingers. “I don’t know. I don’t have much left from my mom, so I guess maybe I always thought Dusty deserved to keep something from her.”

A beat. Dusty took it upon himself to fill the silence, rising from the ground next to Alex with a little huff and jingling his way to stuff his moist nose back into Achilles’ lap.

“I…” Achilles was grateful for the excuse to look at something that wasn’t Alex. He dug his hands into Dusty’s fur. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Alex gave a small, sad smile and reached his arm over to join Achilles in petting Dusty on the head. Their hands brushed, but Achilles, his nerves on high alert, pulled jerkily away. Though Alex, perhaps still deep in reminiscent thought, didn’t seem to notice. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago. A lot’s happened since then…

“Hey, enough about me, though.” A determined shift in tone; the cheer in Alex’s voice somewhat forced. “Where you off to?”

More grateful for the change in topic than he probably had any right to be—well, at least compared to Alex, it was his story they were leaving behind after all—Achilles gestured down at his swim trunks and the terrible pun that had been haunting him this past week stamped down the side. “Well, as the pants say, gotta get that Vitamin Sea.”

Alex gave a tilt of his head, scrunching that perfectly straight nose of his as he scrutinized the screenprinted text. “Wow. You know, I never noticed they said that, and I wish you hadn’t pointed it out. Awful. Literally the worst. You’d think rich people could afford something better—”

Achilles stood, dusted the grass off his pants, and without another word, made for the gate.

“Hey, where are you going—”

“Ho, ho, well, actually, sir, my dad used to tell me the best way to deal with bullies was to just walk away so…” Oh fuck, you idiot, why’d you mention your dad, he just told you his was an asshole.

“Oh I see, so you got bullied a lot as a kid?” Alex had also stood (Dusty had returned to his nap in the middle of the grass), and together they left the pen and began to head down towards the beach (“Ew, stop following me, you bully.”)

“I was never a victim, thank you very much, though, unpopular opinion, I do believe all children should be bullied just a little bit—“

“—that’s a terrible thing to say—”

“It builds character. No, I kid. Well, maybe. Nah, I think my parents were just trying to stay ahead of the game after I came out—they say middle school can be a ruthless place. But turns out, I was fine. Maybe not as popular as you, Mr. Prom King, but I did well enough.”

“Eh. I don’t see you walking away from a bully anyway.”

“What, you think I’d beat them up instead?”

“No, but you’d probably tell them to go eff themselves at the very least. Am I wrong?”

“Did you say eff as in fuck or off as in kill yourself?”

“I said eff, but honestly I could see you saying both.”

“Yeah, yeah, so this is what you think of me huh…”

Alex chuckled at Achilles’ dry sarcasm, and, in a gesture that sent Achilles’ stomach into a tiny barrel roll, lay a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, I’ve got a shift until 2pm, but if you want to maybe head to the tide pool after if it’s not too busy, I’d be down. It’s been a few days, don’t want you forgetting all the progress we made.”

“Actually…”

Perhaps it was a bad idea, especially since Alex reacted exactly how he had anticipated Alex would react when he told the lifeguard he had been practicing by himself the past two days, whipping his hand off Achilles’ shoulder to gesticulate wildly at the beach beyond. But a part of Achilles just couldn’t help but share the initiative (however dangerous it had been) he had taken if it meant receiving even the slightest bit of praise. Although Alex didn’t seem willing to give it.

“You can’t do that, it’s dangerous—hell, Ash, at the very least get Emily or someone to come with you—”

“It’s fine, the water’s like six feet deep—”

“You can drown in an inch, you know that—”

“Listen, it’s fine—I’ve convinced myself the tide pool’s like being in a bath tub, I haven’t had—”

“—look like an irresponsible lifeguard—”

“All right, all right, all right!” Achilles stopped in his tracks and held his hands up in surrender. “I won’t go without you anymore.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be me, just bring someone—”

“Okay, okay, I will.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Alex exhaled, an audible puff through his nose. “Fine. Good.”

“I mean… come on though, I’m totally a natural right, you said so yourself.” Achilles checked Alex’s shoulder as they resumed walking. “It’s only a matter of time—”

“Oh yeah? How about we row out beyond the waves after dinner and throw you overboard, huh?”

“I’m so sorry, as exciting as that sounds, I’ve actually got plans this evening so I’m going to have to ask for a rain check—”

“Oh, plans, huh? That reminds me actually…” Alex glanced at him, brows slightly furrowed in both curiosity and concern. “How’s this week been for you? That’s week one of your Summer of Rest and Relaxation, just in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Great. No, really, I mean it,” Achilles added after catching sight of Alex’s skeptical face. “Ok, maybe not great, but it’s been… fiiiiine. I mean, sure, I still catch myself getting anxious about all this… free time—I mean, honestly, that’s probably why I kept swimming while you were out these past couple days—”

“—irresponsible—”

“But… you know. It hasn’t been terrible. Got dinner with Elliott a few nights ago, been finding some… small things to keep myself entertained, I suppose.”

Alex nodded. “Okay… doesn’t sound bad. Just remember, it’s supposed to be fun all right? Don’t go turning any of this into something bigger than it should be… just, like, do things to do them.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it Mr. Mullner…”

They had made it to the beach, and it was there, right next to a particularly thick bush of sea grass close to Elliott’s cabin, that Achilles saw a purple junimo.

“What the hell are you doing on the beach?” he called, forgetting for a second that no one else seemed to be able to see them.

“Uh oh—who are you talking to?” Alex, shielding his eyes with his hands, looked about the area for signs of an intruder of some sort.

“It’s a—oh. Um, it’s a… junimo? Like Junimo Cart, I don’t know if you’ve heard of them, but I’ve been seeing them since I moved here, remember that day—”

“Oh! A forest spirit?”

“Yes! Yes. I’ve been trying to learn more them, but it’s been a lot harder than I realized…” Thank goodness, Alex didn’t think he was crazy.

“So that’s what you were seeing this whole time? Interesting, and you’re seeing one on the beach? You know, I think my grandparents used to be able to see them… I’ve never, but if you ever have any questions, you should ask them.”

“That’d be great actually, yeah I might just do that…”

They had reached the lifeguard chair. Achilles had been prepared to say his farewells, but as they stood underneath the giant red umbrella, something between them still felt slightly off kilter from earlier and he wanted to fix it. It was likely all in Achilles’ own head, but there was something… heavy weighing in his chest. Something asking to be released.

“I’m, um, sorry about your dad. And your mom,” Achilles said, low enough that the other lifeguard couldn’t hear. He had hesitated in bringing the topic back up again, but his earlier sympathies hadn’t felt like they had adequately acknowledged the vulnerability of Alex’s admission.

A little sigh. Again, more resigned than irritated at the switchback in topic, but Alex’s green eyes were ablaze—whether in determination or anger, though, Achilles wasn’t sure.

“Hey, like I said, it was awhile ago.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Now I don’t want any sympathy. If there’s one good thing about my past, it’s that it made me strong. Or,” he looked down at his hands, nerves breaking through. “At least, that’s another one of Grandma’s takes.”

“Well… you’re the strongest guy I know, bro,” Achilles said rather lamely, awkwardly placing a firm hand on Alex’s muscular arms.

“That’s when I first got into swimming, you know. I actually used to um, swim competitively, back in the day…” Alex’s eyes now had that glazed, far off look as he surveyed the beach without seeing. Achilles had forgotten it was Emily who had told him about Alex’s pro-sports history—Alex himself hadn’t mentioned it during any of their lessons, and Achilles was grateful now that he had never brought the details up by accident.

“I ran a lot as a kid. Whenever my dad got into one of his moods, my mom would just take me out to the park and we’d play this game… well, okay, it wasn’t a really a game, it was just a way to give her a well deserved break and get me to shut up. I’d practice counting seconds while running around the playground and we’d write down the times, and she’d give me a sticker.

“When we moved here, it was during the Summer, and with the sea and everything, I just… fell into swimming. I guess all that cardio transferred over. It was easy. It was nice. Everything was so quiet under the water. You can’t hear people yelling at you under there. I mean, not that he was around to yell anymore…”

“Have you talked to him since?”

Alex blinked rapidly a few times—Achilles had never noticed how long his eyelashes were— before shrugging. “He reached out once on my 12th birthday. That was the last time. But it’s been, what, 12 years now? I don’t think about him anymore. Except on days like this…” He jaw was firmly set, fingers tense as they drummed slowly against his thighs.

“What are you up to, Alex?” The other lifeguard—the same sporty brunette Achilles had noticed earlier that week—stuck her head down from the chair. “What’s keeping you, you’ve been standing there for a hot minute, Jason’s shift ended five minutes ago.”

Her ponytail bounced behind her red baseball cap as she swiveled around, looking for whatever had been distracting Alex and catching sight of Achilles. Her brown eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hmm, you know, speaking of birthdays…” Alex said, still a little lost in thought. He hadn’t even acknowledged the girl. “Figured I’d have a get together by the beach, maybe a bonfire or something. You’ll be there?”

“I don’t know man, a week’s notice, I’ll have to check my calendar, you know I have so much going on these days…”

“I’ll call your assistant, make sure it’s penciled in,” Alex said with a laugh, his good mood returning as he took out his sunglasses and finally, in a enviably graceful climb, joined the girl up in the chair. “Now, you stay out of the water today unless you’re supervised, okay? Haley might be free—”

“Haley? Having her do your job now, huh, isn’t supervising what you’re here for?” Achilles called, jabbing a finger at the safety ring hanging from the side of the stand before dodging the sunglasses Alex proceeded to hurl at him.

#llnks #sunspraypeak #stardew fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #sdv alex #stardew alex #sdv oc #sdv fanfic

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sunspray-peak · 1 year

Text

Ch. 17: Appointments Pt. 2

Unwilling to join Haley when his presence clearly wasn’t wanted, Achilles instead made his way back into Pelican Town. After a quick pit stop at Pierre’s to grab today’s crossword and a sweet tea, he leisurely made his way over to Pelican Park and took a seat on one of the three benches circling the fountain. He sat facing the community center, so that his back was turned away from the playground where tourist children were crawling all over the jungle gym.

No need to look like a creep.

The air was stickier here further away from the sea. It was Tuesday, and so it took him only ten minutes or so to finish the crossword, and after spending another ten minutes flipping through the magazine, subconsciously critiquing the ads and finding nothing remotely intriguing besides a puff piece on some child from some neighboring city who had been dubbed “the goat whisperer,” he declared himself decisively bored. How the hell did one rest and relax?

The problem with relaxation, according to Achilles, was that you weren’t “doing” anything. No progress. Idleness was, in his eyes, the complete opposite of productivity, and in addition to making him feel restless, it also made him feel like he was wasting his time.

But, as Alex had said, perhaps this was what he needed. Maybe, if he was lazy for long enough, and let the ants unleash their maximum anxious fury in his brain, his head would just explode into a million pieces, and he’d be able to start fresh. A clean slate. Because that’s totally how that worked, right?

You are sick in the head, my dude.

He just needed better hobbies… or hobbies at all, really, since anything he had ever enjoyed inevitably turned into a brutal, joyless competition against himself. But he had decided last night he would try to change that this summer—enjoy things just for the sake of enjoying them. He would’ve practiced swimming if his pride would let him flounder in public.

Oh, but what was the point of it all. What was the point of enjoying something if it didn’t mean anything in the long run…

Deep in a frustrating conversation with himself, it took him several moments to realize that something over by the community center was trying to get his attention.

But there it was, a long series of bounces finally catching his eye. He stood from the bench and glanced quickly around but, not unexpectedly, nobody else in the park seemed to give any indication that they could see the 6-long train of junimos marching in a neat line into the community center.

He gave them a small wave, just for the heck of it. After all, didn’t the Wizard mention something about making friends? Hey, that could be a project for this Summer…

He dumped the magazine unceremoniously into the recycling bin and was just beginning to make his way over to the ramshackle building when someone called his name.

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you. Would’ve just left it on your farm but… I figured I owed you an in person apology.”

Achilles turned from the junimos to see Leah approaching him, red hair drawn in its usual braid down the front of some paint-splattered overalls. She rolled a small, blue wagon covered by a red gingham blanket behind her.

“I was being a jackass. That day, Emily’s party… wanted to apologize. If I’m honest, I’ve been in a mood—not that that’s a good excuse for the aforementioned jackassery, but…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Been in a bit of a rut.”

“Hmm, tell me about it…” Achilles gestured for her to take a seat on the bench as he sat back down. The junimos could wait—oh, how he loved being on the receiving end of a (in his eyes) well-deserved apology…

She obliged, stretching her long, thin legs across the mulch and picking paint and clay from under her fingernails as she semi-mistakenly took Achilles’ response for an invitation to hear more than just the apology.

“My ex called that day. We broke up nearly three years ago… had been together for nearly nine, known each other for 13…”

“Sheesh.”

“We had an apartment together, back in Zuzu. I did odd jobs during the day and spent all night working on art projects… We barely made enough to scrape by. He was always nagging me to go back to school and study business or medicine… something with a lot of money in it. Pretty shitty of him you know, considering he was an artist, too. A writer.” She rolled her eyes, the ghost of a disbelieving smile on her face. “Who’s published nothing except some op-eds in the Zuzu Times, just as a by the way.

“I guess the idea was to save up for a normal life. You know… a house out in Moonmist, kids, PTA meetings… that sort of thing.

“But I wasn’t ready for that kind of life, you know? Not with him. He wasn’t the worst mind you… it’s easy to focus on the bad sometimes, but you know, there was a reason we were together for nine years… But I guess all those habits and quirks I thought I could live with just all… built up. Turns out I couldn’t live with them. So I left. Came out here three years ago to ‘pursue my dream’ of ‘being an artist.’” Something between a chuckle and a scoff accompanied her air quotes. She turned to Achilles. “Do you think that’s selfish?”

Achilles shook his head slightly, but what actually slipped out of his mouth was, “Maybe.” He pinched his nose, sighed. “But honestly, I don’t think that matters. Sometimes these things just have to be done. Whether they’re selfish or not, it sounds like it was the right decision for you in the end.”

Leah gnawed on her fingernails, her eyes unfocused as she gazed at the fountain and took a minute to digest Achilles’ words.

“I suppose…

“Anyway, he called that day. First time in a long time to, I don’t know, ask me how things were. If I was actually happier out here… and I guess it all came rushing back to me. The penny pinching, the insecurity, wondering if he was right, if I should’ve gone for something more practical… because honestly, sometimes, I don’t know if I am happier. I still have the same problems, and I felt like Kel was just rubbing it all in, ‘oh I told you so.’

“And then I ran into you, and you just… didn’t have to worry about these things. And so I took it out on you. It was unfair. I don’t know your life. I’m sorry.”

Achilles nodded. It seemed a genuine enough apology, and (with a couple of key exceptions, Eddie Bloomsbury, looking at you), he wasn’t one to hold a grudge.

And to sweeten him up even further, Leah leaned over to her wagon and, with a grunt, heaved a large block of wood, maybe 3 feet by 2, from under the blanket and into her lap. She turned the sign around—for it was indeed a sign—before passing it on to Achilles.

“A little apology gift for you. Figured you’d need a new one, especially now that you’re staying here.”

Under a clear lacquer, “Strawberry Farms” had been neatly carved and painted in an elegant poppy red and green script. Rather than opting for literal berries, Leah had instead carved out and painted rustic, white petaled strawberry flowers, their cheery yellow centers providing a bit of pop around the border.

At the bottom, in small black block letters, was “Property of Achilles Robinson.”

“Oh. Wow.” He hadn’t expected this, especially not from Leah—in fact, he had straight up forgotten about a sign after his spur of the moment mini-To Do List bonfire yesterday morning. “You are… very talented. Thank you for this.”

“Least I could do. Really. Again, I’m really sorry.”

Achilles nodded just as Leah stood from the bench.

“I’ve got to go now—spent all morning trying to track you down, got an appointment with Harvey. But I’ll catch you around, ‘kay? Stop by the cabin whenever.”

Her (now much lighter) wagon rolling behind her, she began to head back towards the center of town before turning to call, “Oh and have fun with Elliott tonight—he’s been really looking forward to this, so you go on and treat him better than I treated you, okay?” Without waiting for Achilles’ response, she turned back and headed down towards Dr. Harvey’s clinic.

It was only five minutes after she and her wagon disappeared from sight down the stairs that Achilles stood and realized his new sign weighed about 50 lbs and he’d have to lug it 1.5 miles back to the farm.

Woman couldn’t have left me the wagon, huh?

Nothing to do but carry it with his hands—if only Alex could witness him now, he thought drily as he tested out a couple of different positions for transporting the unwieldy thing back home. “Couldn’t be a smidge lighter, hmm?” he grunted, testing out an over-the-head lift.

And suddenly, the sign did indeed feel lighter—significantly so. With each step, it felt like the thick slab of wood was losing a pound in weight.

Curious, he lowered it to better investigate the must’ve-been magical shenanigans taking place, holding it ahead of him like a tray. To his surprise, two junimos were sitting on the sign, their stubby little feet hanging off the side.

“I suppose it’s you two doing this?” he asked the bulbous little figures, one green, one red. Per usual, however, they didn’t explicitly respond. And yet, he seemed to understand something unspoken from the wide eyed looks they gave him. This could be a very interesting Summer project indeed.

“Well regardless, thank you.”

*****

At 4:45, Achilles made his way once again back to Pelican Town for his early dinner with Elliott. He was dressed in a very on-brand button down (though no fun pattern this time), and at the last minute, decided to add the tie he had usually worn to client meetings back in Hyacinthia. Was this a date? Regardless, best not look like a slob.

He had lost track of the time in his efforts to set up the new sign, and so was running late (a pet peeve of his) and was thus forced to do an undignified gallop/half-jog in too-tight skinny jeans to the saloon.

Elliott, who had been waiting patiently, immediately gave him a hearty “Greetings!” upon his arrival at exactly 5:01. With the influx of tourists, the saloon was busier and more crowded than ever, even at this early dinner hour; nevertheless, Elliott’s long, auburn hair and 6’5” height would’ve made him easy to spot anywhere, even without the exuberant wave.

“I secured us a private booth, my friend!”

A private booth, huh?

Achilles nodded and weaved his way over to the corner booth closest to the arcade room where Abigail and Sebastian seemed to be duking it out on Junimo Cart (a game that, frustratingly, did not feature any images of junimos, he’d discovered last season). He gave the pair a quick nod.

“Sit, sit, please,” Elliott said, ushering Achilles into the wall-side of the booth before taking a seat across from him. “What a nice tie, Achilles, it suits you marvelously!”

“Oh. Thank you. Yours is nice as well.”

It was actually a pretty hideous shade of green, but could anyone blame him for the white lie?

“This is for you!” Elliott leaned over, half-disappearing behind the table for just a second before emerging with a large, flowering succulent planted in a teal ceramic pot. “A housewarming gift—or would it be more apt to say farmwarming? I had heard you decided to stay—excellent choice! I myself have never possessed an ounce of regret for moving to the Valley!”

“Oh—wow.” Achilles hesitatingly slid the plant, whose ginormous pink blossoms nearly obstructed his view of Elliott, against the window. “Thank you very much.”

Emily swiftly made her way over, handing the two of them their menus, her mouth twitching as she made eye contact with Achilles. “May I start you two gents out with some drinks?”

“Ah Miss Emily, two of your finest ales, please.”

“Oh, actually—” He wouldn’t have minded a drink to help him get through the dinner, but the thought of alcohol still left a sour taste in Achilles’ mouth.

“Ah, more of a wine man?”

“I’ll actually just have…” he glanced quickly at the menu. “The… lavender lemonade, please. Thanks, Em.”

“One ale and one lavender lemonade coming right up!”

“Sincere apologies for my presumption!” Elliott said once Emily had whisked herself away. “The lavender lemonade sounds delightful. Perhaps I shall allow myself to indulge in one as well.”

Achilles glanced slightly disconcertingly at the two tapered candles that had been lit in the middle of the table. They hadn’t a window here in the corner, so there was no natural light, leaving the candles to cast the whole booth in a rather sultry shadow.

Elliott himself was wearing a rather fine, if stuffy, red velvet sports coat to pair with the bright green tie. It’d have been a bit much for the occasion, if Achilles hadn’t known Elliott wore that coat nearly every day. Honestly, perhaps it was the only thing the writer owned, especially as he was allegedly unpublished with no day job.

Then again, you haven’t got a day job either, have you, bitch.

Avoiding the man’s penetrating gaze, Achilles pretended to stare instead at the menu. He wasn’t one to be afraid of making conversation, but usually preferred having a better grasp of the wider surrounding situation first. But rather than clarify that for himself, he had decided to wait for Elliott to make the first move—for if he were honest, he was curious how the man would navigate their dinner. He had, after all, done the asking.

But for a few minutes, Elliott seemed to follow his direction, silently perusing the menu. Until…

“How was your day today, Achilles?”

Achilles quickly set the menu down—he had known what he was ordering before he had even arrived. “Oh, good, good. Spent the morning at the beach… haven’t seen a sunrise like that in ages. But it really gets crowded fast, doesn’t it? I bet Summer must be particularly crazy for you, though, living on the beach and all.”

“Ah yes… it can be a real… nuisance, so to say. It’s the cacophony that drives me mad the most. That being said, I had an eight hour writing session today, so perhaps I cannot really complain about tourism’s impact on my productivity, can I?”

“Wow, eight hours! That’s… impressive.”

Emily had returned. “Ale for you, Elliott, and Achilles your lemonade. Are y’all ready to order?”

“I shall have the Thom Kha Soup, if you please—and I’ll let Master Achilles here order for himself this time,” Elliott said with a wink. Achilles suppressed a grimace.

“I’ll get the crispy bass, thanks.”

“You got it.”

Once again, Elliott waited to Emily to clear the space before speaking. “Achilles,” he began, and as he raised his glass, a grandiose speech inevitably ready to spring from his lips, Achilles’ stomach dropped. “I felt from the moment we crossed paths on that bridge in Spring that our destinies were intertwined.”

Achilles forced a smile. This little toast could easily go a number of different ways—back at home, in his notebook, he had actually spent an idle hour brainstorming potential motivations behind this dinner in order of preference.

“I must confess, my fervor for your fateful residence in Pelican Town is born from a place of selfishness, but I assure you my passion for your presence goes hand in hand with that of my gratitude. I think it only right I propose a toast.”

Achilles raised his glass. “To our friendship,” he quickly suggested.

Elliott’s eyes widened and—was it merely the candlelight or something else?—his face seemed to flush for the same second Achilles’ heart skipped a beat.

Then, Elliott’s face broke into the widest smile.

“To friendship? Oh, Achilles, how you honor me! You are too kind… That’s a splendid idea! To our friendship!”

They clinked glasses.

“I must confess… I was hoping perhaps the two of us could indeed truly become friends, so I must tell you, it excites me a great deal to know you feel the same. I have not lived in the Valley here for quite so very long, and, well, let us say I haven’t quite been able to get so close to the townsfolk as I sometimes wish. I assure you, I will treasure our friendship!”

Achilles, whose mood was rapidly rising as the stakes of this dinner grew clearer and clearer, gave him a hearty, encouraging nod.“How long have you been here for?”

“Ah, four some years. It will be five this Fall. Fall 14, to be precise.”

“Nearly five years! And you haven’t gotten close to any of the townsfolk? I don’t think I’ve ever met a more social bunch—in fact, I feel like I know too much about them all in one season and,” he added with a slightly shamefaced wince, “if I’m honest, I wasn’t particularly trying. At first.”

“I see… well perhaps my choosing to reside on the beach, being a little farther away from town… I sometimes feel life as a writer can be quite solitary. I wonder if you share the same sentiments? I would welcome your thoughts as an author yourself.”

“Ah…” Writing advice had been close to the bottom of his “Potential Reasons Why Elliott is Inviting Me To Dinner After Refusing To Make Eye Contact With Me For a Season” preference list, but had been close to the top in regards to what he had expected. Well. It was what it was.

“I suppose, it can be… for some.” Achilles thought back to his writing days—that was actually the last time he felt he had had a good group of friends. He hadn’t been a loner; no, being a loner came after. “But I don’t think it has to be.”

“I’m afraid to say—or, please pardon me, may I retract—I am honored to say you may be only my second friend in this town, Achilles.”

“Oh?” Yikes. “Who’s the first?”

“Leah!” And with this cry, the man dramatically hung his head, his voluminous hair concealing his face like a curtain. He grasped the half-empty tankard of ale harder, his knuckles straining against the tin handle. Must be a lightweight. “Leah, Leah, Leah…”

So was it girl problems then that had catalyzed Elliott’s sudden seeking of friendship? He had just confessed to being friendless, perhaps he needed an outlet, someone to vent to… but surely nobody would expect Achilles to be able to provide particularly much insight on that front…

“She… seems nice,” Achilles managed to say to Elliott continued to bury his head into the wooden table. Bitch, she caused your first mental breakdown in years. Although… “She painted a sign for my farm actually, just today…”

“A more beautiful and talented artist, the world has never known. And such a beautiful soul, Achilles. She set my heart ablaze from the moment I met her three years ago—in her, much like in yourself, I saw a kindred spirit. A fellow artist. Have you seen her work?”

Achilles took an quick sip from his lemonade. You know, perhaps he’d prefer giving writing career advice after all, at least, compared to this. “Outside of the sign? Not yet.”

“Ah, you must! Beautiful, unique, and wondrously thought provoking it is!

“But alas, dear Achilles, I’m afraid to say the feeling may be unrequited. She has never confirmed as much—for she is as elusive as she is entrancing—but I have, shall I say, given a hint here or there. And yet, she has not made any sort of acknowledgement, but whether out of ignorance or polite rejection, I do not know.”

“Why not just ask her out? Worst she can do is say no.”

Hypocrite.

Was Achilles aware his advice was at odds with his own, personal views on unrequited confessions of love? Yes. But after his conversation with Haley and Emily yesterday, he was beginning to see that, apparently, many (if not most) people did not share his sentiments—and besides, unlike Elliott, Achilles wasn’t even wanting a relationship, so the situations were completely different to begin with anyway… right?

“It is, perhaps, the vulnerability I fear, not her denial. To confess your feelings, your desire… knowing that they may not be reciprocated, is that not to lay yourself naked at the other’s feet? To surrender all power, all your flaws and virtues. To relinquish that amount of power to someone, now that is what I fear.”

Okay, so maybe Achilles and Elliott weren’t actually that far off from each other. Take that Haley and Emily! Maybe it was a woman thing. Speak of the devil, there was Emily now with their plates…

“Please do not get me wrong, Achilles. I value her as a friend, and I am not one to pine and whine in the corner. I believe the best cure for a wounded heart is friendship. A deep friendship is its own type of intimacy, and sometimes I have found it can override the more romantic fancies of the heart.”

Achilles unfolded his napkin as Elliott drained the last of his ale.

“Well. Thank you for listening, my friend, I’ve needed to get that off my chest for many a week now.

“But how about you? Has anyone in the Valley caught your fancy? I saw you with Haley today… and Leah…” Elliott added the latter casually, but Achilles caught a gleam in his eye. Maybe that’s what this dinner was about. Laying claim. Although, Elliott seemed neither competitive not malicious in that regard. Maybe Achilles need only assuage the man’s concerns.

Maybe what Achilles actually needed to do was get his head out of his ass and stop overanalyzing the motivations behind the dinner and just… relax.

“Oh no, don’t worry Elliott you have nothing to fear from me on that account,” he said, and Elliott’s eyes lit up as the two began to dig in. “I’m gay.”

“Oh splendid! A toast to you! I’m so glad you feel comfortable enough to share that with me—”

“Well, it’s not particularly a secret—“

He nevertheless found himself clinking glasses with Elliott again.

“Well, allow me to revise—has any young gent in the valley caught your fancy then?” he asked with yet another wink.

Achilles sighed. High school truly never ended, did it? Back in Monstera, back even in school, he had always been in an environment where conversation was dominated by career-oriented topics. Your personal life? Nobody needed (or cared) to ask and learn what was going on back there unless it impacted the questioner’s own life. It was always “So what do you want to do?” or “What do you do?” and of course, the usual opener, “What university did you attend?”

“Hmm, well… I just moved here, I think I need a year to… figure my own self out. Before pursuing… anyone.”

Elliott nodded solemnly. Knowingly.

“I understand. How can one hope to know someone else if one does not know themself? Nevertheless, young Alexander is a very handsome man, there’s no doubt about that.”

Achilles blinked. “Pardon? Who said anything about Alex?”

“The red tint to your pale visage just now confirmed it,” Elliott said with a rather grim smile. “Although my second theory would have been Sebastian.”

Sebastian???

“Ah! I see that I have made you uncomfortable—I deeply apologize, that was not my intention. I have been told that discussing personal matters early in a conversation may help to more quickly establish a level of intimacy in a friendship. But I now see that perhaps may not have been the correct route in this case, so I am more than happy to move the conversation along now! If I may, I was hoping to perhaps pick your illustrious brain on a different matter…”

The rest of the evening was spent, as Achilles had originally predicted, giving Elliott writing advice. Not that he had been entirely against it or begrudging in any way—to be frank, his main concern was merely that he didn’t feel that he was truly in a position to be trusted to give said advice. It had been several years, and as much as it pained him to admit it to himself, his easier foot in the door had more than likely been a side effect of nepotism.

But Elliott seemed to be eager for anything, and by the end of the night, Achilles had agreed to give Elliott’s romance novel a once-over when it was finished (Elliott had unknowingly buttered him up after calling Apparition “ahead of its time”). And despite his original apprehension, he found that discussing his old craft with Elliott felt… if not good, at least not bad.

*****

He came home later than he had anticipated, having found Elliott to be a good soul behind the grandiose facade, surprisingly full of quirky little stories from his various travels over the years (though he had rather expertly dodged any questions pertaining to any sort of day job or former career), and they had chatted long into the evening.

Given the early, swim-filled start tomorrow, he set his phone down and went immediately to bed. But even with the lack of blue light, he lay awake long into the night, running his fingers absentmindedly over the bumpy rainbow temporarily tattooed to his arm and thinking about Alex and, of all things, writing.

#llnks #sunspraypeak #stardew valley #sdv alex #sdv fanfic #stardew alex #sdv oc #alex sdv #stardew fanfic

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sunspray-peak · 1 year

Text

Ch. 16: Appointments Pt. 1

TUESDAY - SUMMER 2

Achilles woke at 5am. Ungodly early, even for him, but try as he might, he couldn’t get back to sleep. The dark waves breaking on the shores of his dreams kept his eyes wide open.

His… “appointment” (as he had begun to call it in his head) with Alex wasn’t until 7:30am, but in the quiet of the dawn, he figured maybe he’d get to the beach early. Take a minute to get used to the water just a little bit. Maybe catch the sunrise. How romantic…

One sun-warmed bagel with cream cheese and strawberries later, Achilles walked out the door in his swim trunks, a tee he usually wore for jogging, his “I <3 SDV” towel, and a bottle of water.

The swim trunks were rather embarrassing (seriously, what was Willy thinking?), but rather than purchasing a new pair online, he figured maybe the egregious pun stamped down the lefthand side would make him look more… relatable. Approachable. Quirky. Less like a… what was the word Haley had used the other day? Like a “puffed up puffin.”

Anyway, with all that farm work the past Spring, he thought (after spending too much time fixing his hair in the mirror) he looked pretty damn good, if he could say so himself. Minus the dark circles under his eyes, but those he had long accepted were permanent. Good enough to pull off punny swim pants, that was for sure.

It was too early for the tourists; the sky was still dark when he left Strawberry Farms, even the songbirds hadn’t yet woken. Only the crickets and the wind.

Hopefully no one else in town would have the same idea about the sunrise; he’d prefer his maritime suffering to be witnessed by as few people as people. The two and a half swimming tutorial videos he had been able to buffer last night had only been marginally helpful.

The bridge was deserted, its cobblestones smooth from the passage of time and thousands of footsteps. He glanced over the railing at the river below—no ducks. Too early for them, too, but in the early rosy fingered dawn of the morning, he could just make out some mayflies circling the reeds.

He was in luck. The beach was barren as well. Half-collapsed sandcastles and various lost beach toys were the only evidence that people had been there yesterday. The lights in Elliott’s cabin were still off… Mmm. Achilles had spent a few minutes yesterday attempting to hype himself up for their dinner tonight, he had no idea what to expect. But that was a problem for the afternoon.

The sand was soft, still cool from the moonlight, and squished underneath his weight. He removed his shoes, letting his feet burrow underneath the grainy particles; it was so easy to sink in. Each step required a bit of a bounce, and so he walked with a dragged spring in his step, kicking sand to and fro.

The dry grains soon became damp and dense as he got closer to the shoreline. He was level with the lifeguard chair now, but continued on, his feet now leaving only the faintest tracks as he walked atop the wet sand. Iridescent shells glimmered in the shadows, and part of him worried that perhaps he’d cut his foot.

Just add it to the long list of reasons to hate the beach…

He didn’t venture too far in. The water that surged forward had yet to be warmed by the sun, and it sent a small tingle up his calves as it tickled his toes. As the tide pulled away, so too did the sand, until his feet were buried in a hollow of several inches. In the not-so-far distance, he could see the waves build in height. There had been surfers yesterday. He would never surf. Zero interest. Nope. Swimming was already a stretch.

Speaking of which—now that he was here, looking at it all again—how in the world was he supposed to learn to swim in the sea? A pool would be better, hell even a pond… something where the water was, at the very least, stationary, and not threatening to pull him out to the middle of nowhere with every crash.

Don’t think about that, you bastard.

The white froth bubbled as another wave surged forward—this was a larger one, circling Achilles’ ankles in an icy grip.

There he stood, eyes closed, breathing in the salty wind and trying hard not to think of the “appointment” coming up… he didn’t want to swim. Not really. Who needed to, he had had a great time splashing about in the shallows yesterday with Emily. This was a mistake.

Man, come on. Just do it.

His hands were curling into fists when suddenly, with no warning—daybreak. A burning orange that pierced the horizon, warming up the frigid navy sky with streaks of yellow and lavender. The sun set the water on fire, a column of gold sweeping across the waves, racing them towards shore, and as his fingers relaxed, Achilles felt something catch in his throat.

“You don’t ever get sick of it. I could see it every day for a hundred more years, you know, and it’ll take my breath away every time.”

Achilles turned around to see Alex walking towards him, his left arm carrying a red rescue board, his right raised in an exuberant wave. “Surprised to see you here so early!”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Achilles murmured. The wakening day called for whispers.

“Nervous?”

A small, sideways smile. “Just a little.” Liar.

“Hey, that’s ok! We’re in it together, it’ll be good. We’ll take it slow.” Alex directed his reassurances to Achilles with a pat on the back, but he swiftly returned to watching the horizon, the green of his eyes glinting in the sun’s early rays.

The sight of him standing there was more transfixing than the sunrise, if Achilles were honest with himself, and he tried hard not to look—or, at the very least, stare. It seemed disrespectful, immodest, even. But with the sunrise still capturing Alex’s attention, Achilles couldn’t help but sneak a quick up and down to better admire the former swimming star’s physique.

No 16 pack or whatever that he could see (thank goodness), for Alex was wearing his lifeguard tank, but even so, despite the loose fit, it was evident every inch of him was tight and toned. He stood effortlessly tall and straight, muscles chiseled from tan marble—especially those arms and those shoulders… Achilles felt another chill up his spine that had nothing to do with the rapidly warming water. An athlete he was for sure, but a little leaner than Achilles would’ve anticipated for a swimmer.

Did he miss the pro sports life? Alex, always so patient and positive, had never given any indication that he was bitter about anything except perhaps his dyslexia…

When Alex turned back to meet his gaze, those eyes twinkling warmly over that carefree grin of his, it was like something clicked in Achilles’ brain—something more than a silly, juvenile, unrequited crush. Not love—definitely not that, no, this was something different entirely. Something… platonic. It was almost like… an admiration? An… appreciation for his presence?

Get yourself together!

“I’ve got about an hour thirty before I’m on duty for the rest of the day,” Alex said, completely oblivious to the breakthrough Achilles had just made. “I’ve just got to write down the tides and temp for the early birds and then we can get started, if that’s all right.”

“Oh please, take your time, I’m in no rush at all.”

He followed Alex to the lifeguard stand where a large black board was resting on a wooden ledge hammered into the back.

Taking a piece of chalk, Alex bit his lip as he slowly and steadily wrote “SUNNY WITH SCATTERED CLOUDS! NO RAIN! HIGH: 92° | LOW: 67°” before adding a smile face at the end. He turned to Achilles. “Right, weather boy?”

Achilles squinted at the low clouds in the distance before confirming with a thumbs up. “Don’t seem like nimbus clouds to me.”

He set the slate back on the chair with a satisfied “There we go!” before turning to Achilles, whose anxiety was beginning to bubble up again as the sun settled in its place in the sky. The peace daybreak had briefly gifted him had drained away. “Ready?”

Achilles glanced at the water. “Right. So I was actually thinking, perhaps learning to swim in the sea is a terrible idea and I ought to… learn in that lake in Cindersap instead…”

“Oh, hey! That’s actually not a terrible idea. Mmm… that lake is pretty disgusting, though, I don’t think it’s been cleaned in a bit…”

“Does Lewis take care of anything around here?”

Alex shrugged.

They glanced at the waves that seemed to crash against the shore with increasing menace.

“It would be a little irresponsible for me as lifeguard to just throw you in… sorry, should’ve thought this through earlier. Stupid.” Alex responded slowly, biting his lip again, deep in thought. It was only a minute though before he snapped back to attention. “Oh, wait a second! We’ll just head over to the tide pool. Duh—it’ll probably be empty this early in the morning, too, it’s usually only like families with little kids there.”

“Oh. Shit.” If he were honest, he hadn’t expected there to be so easy a solution. But of course—the tide pools, how could he have forgotten? Over on the eastern side of the beach, across a small wooden bridge—crystal clear, the water was, and more importantly, perfect still. No waves whatsoever. Just coral and sea urchins and, apparently in the Summer, toddlers with floaties splashing around.

He followed Alex across the sand and over to the bridge, and was relieved to see the lifeguard’s instincts were right—the area was completely empty. Just tall tufts of sea grass he could easily hide behind if needed. No tiny children to roast him for being unable to swim. Just Alex, whom he had already grossly embarrassed himself in front of three nights previously. There was no dignity left to lose. Excellent.

“Great! Look!” Alex pointed at the five different pools, each varying significantly in size, scattered among the sand. The undisturbed water couldn’t be more different from the waves along the shore, sparkling like glass panels. “Yeah, this’ll be great—you ready?”

Fuck, Achilles hated this part—loathed it actually, the awkwardness of undressing in front of someone else. It was different in a bedroom; out here, in public, there just wasn’t an elegant way to go about it. He was sure some people could pull it off somewhat smoothly—with one of said people likely being his swim instructor here—but given his hatred for the beach, Achilles had rarely found himself in this specific position. Not to say he hadn’t practiced stripping in front of the mirror the night before…

“I didn’t know you had that.”

Achilles clumsily finished tugging his shirt the last few inches off his head before glancing down at the tattoo he assumed Alex was pointing at.

“Oh. Yeah, I had her do it pretty high up my arm so it’d be covered most of the time. Corporate job things.”

“Does it mean anything?” Alex took a step closer, and Achilles followed his lead, twisting his left arm arm back and forth to provide a better look at the black band that wrapped around his bicep. For a second, it looked like Alex would reach out to touch it—but at the last second, and to Achilles’ slight disappointment, he retracted his hand.

“No, actually. I saw someone else with something similar once, really liked it what they did with the negative space and all, and after some thought, decided to get one, too.”

“So the flowers and the birds—”

“Don’t mean anything. I just liked the look of them.”

“Sure. It’s nice—”

“I know, anticlimactic.”

“Nah—gotta say, I am a little surprised, though, you seem like the kind of guy who’d want it to mean something.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know! You know, writers… words… pictures… symbolism…”

“Well now you’re just listing nouns.” Hyperaware of Alex’s eyes on his him, Achilles made sure to neatly fold his shirt before kneeling to rest it on a nearby rock. “Would you ever get one?”

Alex shook his head rapidly, answering with little hesitation. “Oh no, I’d never be able to commit to something like that, not even to, like… commemorate… something, or… I don’t know. Besides, grandpa hates them…”

His eyes lingered on Achilles’ tattoo for a few beats longer. It was a delicately designed thing, thin lines and only an inch or so in width. A 7 month waitlist, and had taken Harper James only two hours to do.

After a second, Alex took a step back and cleared his throat. “Uh, let’s use that pool over there…”

Ah… alas, the little delay Achilles had bought himself was over. That being said, he was determined not to reveal the extent of his fear and hesitation, and so followed the lifeguard to the largest pool. Not too bad—scarcely larger than Achilles’ bedroom, perhaps 25 or so feet across, and only about six feet at the deep end.

Just like a bath…

It was a tide pool, not the sea. Relax. Zero waves here, perfectly placid water—that was the most important part (besides the temperature, but he couldn’t very well heat a tide pool to the near boil he typically opted for in the tub).

Nevertheless, despite the early morning, the water had warmed swiftly with the sun, and so the shivers that assaulted his body as he gingerly clambered in could only be blamed on nerves rather than cold.

Achilles clutched the rocky wall and gazed (rather pathetically, he might add) up at Alex who was standing above him, grasping a whistle that hung around his neck.

“You’re not getting in here with me?”

“Oh, do you want me to? Will that make you feel better?”

The lifeguard’s concern seemed genuine, but Achilles’ pride ultimately outweighed both his physical attraction and his fear (the more impressive feat), and he responded with, “Nah, it’s fine. I got this.”

Alex handed him a pair of goggles from the red fanny pack slung across his chest. “Might make you feel better.”

“Sure, and I’ll look like a fuckin nerd. Just kidding. If you say so, captain.” Nobody was around to witness this, and he’d take anything that might help, so with only the briefest hesitation, he snapped the polarized goggles onto his head. “Do I get a swim cap too?”

“Oh, do you want one?”

“No, that was a joke.”

They started off with bubbles and breathing—a bit juvenile, Achilles thought to himself, he knew how to blow a bubble, thanks very much—but Alex insisted it was a vital skill.

“You’re a natural!” Alex said with enthusiastic applause after Achilles’ head emerged from the depths below.

“I’m 27.”

At the half hour mark, Alex announced they’d practice floating. Floating on his stomach hadn’t been as difficult as Achilles had anticipated (ho ho, maybe he was a natural), but floating on his back—this was what Achilles had been dreading.

Perhaps he could have asked Alex to skip over this lesson… but if not now, then when? He thought of his post it notes. Just do it! Conquer the sea, this isn’t fucking conquering, bitch! Get it together! He was, as he had said, 27. It was time to get over this stupid, irrational fear of his.

Just like a bath.

Didn’t one lie on their back in baths, anyway? How hard could this be.

But as he followed Alex’s instructions and began to lean back into the water, his breaths began to morph quickly into jagged gasps and spluttering coughs as he battled the water charging into his open mouth. His hands, which were supposed to be paddling, suddenly felt numb and became harder to move, dropping to his side like rocks.

Then—a small splash, a firm hand on his arm that gently guided him upright and towards the wall of the pool.

“Hey, you ok, man?”

Achilles, who was now clutching the wall again with still half-numb fingers, nodded, but his heart was still racing. He was fine. This was fine. Everything was fine. He was in a shallow tide pool, Alex was right there, the chances of him drowning were next to none.

“I’m fine,” he said, forcing his voice steady and staring resolutely away from Alex. “Just… just give me a minute.”

“Sure, of course, no problem.”

After almost exactly a minute (he’d been counting), heartbeat nearly back to normal, Achilles backed away from the wall and bobbed in the 4 ft end of the pool. He could do this. He would do this.

Alex shot him an encouraging thumbs up—“I’m right here!”—as Achilles took a steadying breath and leaned back into the water.

He had a couple more false starts though, although nothing as bad as the first. Not that it would have mattered, as Alex was proving to be more patient a teacher than Achilles had to admit he himself would ever have been.

During attempt #5, Achilles focused on the warmth of the water, trying to let it lull him into a false sense of calm.

Just like a bath, Yoba, come on, how hard is it? Maybe if he dropped some lavender bath salts or something… he’d probably actually have to apologize to the fish… focus!

By the end of the thirty minutes, to fervent applause and cheers, Achilles was successfully lying on his back.

“I think this is all I need, really. We can stop here,” Achilles called to the sky, spitting out water in the process as he dipped beneath for half a second.

“So you can just float along the waves? Nah man, we’re going to get you surfing by the end of the summer.”

“Oh ha-aghughuack.” Another infiltrating splash of seawater interrupted his fake laugh.

“I think we can get a start on gliding…” Alex glanced at his watch. “And then I’ll probably have to head to work, but maybe Emily can help you practice. Ok, do as I do—

“So you’re going to point your arms high above your head together, like a pencil!” Still in the water, his wet, white lifeguard shirt plastered distractingly tight against skin, Alex raised his own hands to demonstrate. Achilles followed him, somewhat halfheartedly. People were really just allowed to have arms like that and walk around in public, huh—

“There, you have it, great job! So now, tilt your chin down to your chest just like you’re a little turtle.”

Alex was clearly used to teaching five year olds; Achilles vaguely remembered Orange Grove Fitness had a pool, perhaps he taught there or something… but although Achilles knew his instructor’s similes were motivated more by a genuine desire for Achilles to learn than patronizing condescension, he still couldn’t help but proactively defend his pride with a sarcastic retort or two. Alex, however, merely took his sass in stride. Five year olds were probably worse to deal with.

“You take that back—that’s strike one now, pal, I’m on to you—ok, so now you’re going to kick off, and just glide to the other side with your arms held just like that and your legs straight and toes pointed.”

“I keep my arms like that?”

“Yep, you keep your arms like that. Superglue ‘em together. And your head down.”

“Head down? How am I supposed to breathe?”

“Well you blow your bubbles.”

“No, I get the breathing out, I mean the breathing in.”

“Well you can hold your breath, can’t you, it’s like 20 feet across.”

“I have tiny lungs, Alex, I don’t know if I can make it.”

“Oh Yoba… come on Ash, I’ve got like 10 minutes left.”

“Ok, sorry, sorry.”

He did as he was told, and was just getting ready to kick off, when he felt Alex’s hand lightly touch his stomach. Achilles froze instantly.

“What are you doing?”

“Supporting you in case your tiny lungs explode and you need to breathe, come on.”

At 8:50am, Alex called it in and climbed out of the wave pool with significantly more grace than Achilles, who inwardly blamed Alex’s longer arms (like, that’s why chimpanzees were so good at climbing, right? It was totally just the length, not the strength…).

As Achilles clambered out—damn, nearly two hours to learn just how to float and glide? He had a long way to go, huh…—Alex unzipped his fanny pack again and withdrew what seemed to be a few small sheets of paper and a tiny pair of scissors.

“Hey, so I didn’t realize you actually had a real one before I grabbed these this morning, so it’s not going to be nearly as awesome and cool now.” He held up what Achilles could now see were a couple sheets of (very colorful) temporary tattoos, a shy smile on his face. “Seven year olds don’t normally have real tattoos, you see. Anyway, I started off giving the kids stickers after a job well done, but that didn’t really work, obviously, ‘cause, like… water. Ended up switching to these.”

Achilles’ brow furrowed as he examined the various rainbows and butterflies and smiley faces and dinosaurs printed behind sleeves of plastic. “That’s… actually really adorable.”

Alex turned just the slightest shade of pink and gave his scissors a couple of absentminded snips. “Well, like I said, I always give them to the kids for a job well done and you did a great job today so… well, I know they might not be your style,” he nodded to the richly detailed finch and apple blossoms outlined in black on Achilles’ arm, “But it’s tradition. You gotta.”

“I gotta.”

Did he fancy wearing a neon cartoon on his arm out in public like this? Not particularly. But hey… as the post-it notes said, give no fucks! right? Alex was clearly joking (or, half-joking), but still. He couldn’t disappoint. Besides, doing something silly like this was one step into de-puffin-ication, right? Damn, he’d have to make another post-it note…

“Well… we gotta go with the rainbow.”

Achilles wasn’t sure if Alex had expected him to bite—the slightly raised eyebrows suggested perhaps not. Regardless, the lifeguard snipped the rainbow off the sheet with an absurd amount of glee, cackling a “hehehehe” as he tore off the plastic and pressed the temporary tattoo into Achilles’ arm. God, he was close…

“There, now you’re all balanced out.”

Achilles looked down at the smiling rainbow temporarily tattooed in all its vividness on his right bicep and gave an approving nod.

*****

“OK, so I can totally handle the sea now right?” Achilles asked as they headed out of the tide pools, which were now beginning to welcome visitors, and back to the main beach. Umbrellas and beach towels were already beginning to dot the sand here, too. “Like, I’m totally a swimming prodigy, right?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Just make sure you give me a heads up though if you do decide to go into the sea—you know, so I can make note of the tides and tell the search and rescue squad where they’ll be able to find your drowned body.”

“I mean obviously, of course.”

“So you staying at the beach the rest of the day? Hey, you’re already getting kinda tan, you know.”

Achilles wrinkled his nose at the suggestion.

“What, you don’t like being tan?”

Achilles gazed at Alex, who, only one day into Summer was already what many would likely call a “perfect shade.”

“I’ve always felt I look better paler. Really fits with my eclectic ghost of a victorian middle aged man vibe.”

“You’re 27.”

“Physically, yes. But emotionally?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Ok, well whatever you do, in all seriousness now, don’t swim in the sea. Maybe go back and practice in the tide pool if you get a chance.”

“With the five year olds? Absolutely not.”

“Oh Yoba—fine, suit yourself. So does the crack of dawn work for you again tomorrow, then?”

“You still want to keep doing this?”

It wasn’t that Achilles was surprised Alex wanted to continue hanging out with him, per se—they were, at the very least, close acquaintances. Or, thinking back to his earlier emotional epiphany on the beach, perhaps they were actually… friends. As his mother (and old friends) had always said, he had never been good with using that word…

That being said, Alex’s response didn’t do much to particularly confirm the existence of a warm and fuzzy burgeoning friendship. Instead, he gazed rather seriously into Achilles’ eyes and somberly said, “I think swimming is a very valuable and important skill, Achilles. Especially when you live so close to the water.”

Achilles sighed. He still didn’t love the beach. Didn’t even like it—he wasn’t sure if he’d ever really be able to—but hey. Summer of Rest and Relaxation/Recreation, right? The tide pool’s quiet calm must have already cast some sort of spell on him, for the thought of gliding through its tranquil waters no longer struck too much fear into his heart. And he’d be lying if he said he minded the one on one time with Alex.

“Fine. Right. Same time tomorrow?”

“Works for me!”

And with that, Alex waved goodbye and joined his fellow lifeguard—an equally tanned and sporty looking brunette—at the stand.

Achilles left for Pelican Town. Perhaps he’d see if Emily was available, maybe if he watched her swim he could pick a couple things up.

It was Haley, however, who opened the door when he knocked on the Garison household, dressed in a floral, high waisted bikini, pink sunglasses already resting on her perfect button nose. He seemed to have caught her just as she was leaving for the beach herself; a beach bag was on one shoulder while her camera hung from the other.

“Just lurking about, are you?” She sauntered past him, and he instinctively followed. “Alex is on duty, Shane’s at JojoMart, and Emily’s at the saloon all day. It gets busy during the summer, you know.”

“I suppose you don’t want me to keep you company?”

“You supposed correctly.” She tutted before pausing to glance at his bare upper body. “Nice tattoos. You’re a bit pasty, though.” And then, without another word, she continued down to the beach.

“Not a particularly Flower Queen thing to say,” Achilles called to her retreating figure. “What kind of representative of the community are you?”

Without looking back, she flipped him the bird (to the gasps of surrounding tourist parents), and kept walking.

#llnks #sunspraypeak #sdv alex #alex sdv #stardew alex #sdv oc #stardew fanfic #sdv fanfic

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