Chapter Text
The past few months in Pelican Town had been one hazy blur. Days melted into weeks, and weeks melted into months, until June lost track of what day it was. Maybe any other sane person would have drowned in the chaos, but June embraced it and found some semblance of peace in her new out-from-dawn-until-nightfall schedule.
If she wasn’t struggling to get a hang of the farm work or learning how to care for the chickens, she was in the mines doing odd jobs for the adventurer’s guild or fishing at the docks… anything she could get her hands on so she didn’t have to make amends with the ghosts in her head.
They buried Grandpa Lester in the fall. It had been an intimate funeral on the farmhouse property. June’s father had buried her grandfather’s urn by the small shrine near the old greenhouse. It would have been what he’d wanted—laid to rest for eternity beside the love of his life, on the plot of land where he and Grandma Sarah had jumpstarted so many of their dreams. Her grandfather had been bedridden for months before he died. In the end, watching the light slowly fade from his eyes was worse than the ‘dying’ part itself.
But at the very least, he gave them a chance to say their goodbyes.
June and her older brother August once promised him they would return to the valley, tend to the farm and keep it in their family like both their grandparents wanted. Their parents supported the vision. After all, they couldn’t exactly uproot their own lives from Grampleton to do it themselves.
But then, August followed in Grandpa Lester’s footsteps like he always did.
Just a few months after their grandfather’s burial, June was identifying August’s body in a morgue after his car had been totaled by a truck on the freeway. She couldn’t even remember the conversation she had with her parents on the phone, couldn’t remember much of the night at all.
The entire thing felt like a fever dream, and it was the aftermath of it all that was harder to forget—coming back to the empty apartment she shared with her brother in Zuzu City and being expected to carry on with life because the world didn’t stop spinning for anyone.
A couple of botched exams here, a plagiarized paper there, and one final letter from the Dean.
And now, she was back in Pelican Town, trying to start fresh in the very place that reminded her of summers sporting skinned knees and lazy afternoons on her grandpa’s fishing boat. So, June buried herself in work instead, and ever since then, everything felt more… tolerable.
It was Abigail’s voice that pulled her back to the present. “Hey, did you bring an umbrella?”
The two of them were standing at the mouth of the cave that led into the mines. They’d been… spelunking for trinkets - if one could even call being restricted to the first 10 floors spelunking - doing odd jobs here and there and clearing out the slime population to get on Marlon’s good side. June always thought the guilders were some of the most amazing people in the valley, and Abigail seemed determined to get involved in anything she knew would piss Pierre off.
“Nope.” June blinked. Of course she didn’t remember to bring an umbrella. Sometimes she even forgot her own keys and locked herself out of the farmhouse in the middle of the night. “Did you?”
“Oh please, a little rain never bothered me,” Abigail laughed. “Race you to town?”
Rain clouds had already gathered overhead, and it would only be a matter of time before they ended up stuck in the middle of a violent downpour. Honestly, June didn’t mind the rain either.
Crack!
A streak of lightning cleaved through the clouds, the brilliant arch of electricity illuminating the surrounding woodlands. The distant rumble of thunder followed soon after, and it wasn’t long before June felt the first cool droplets of rain against her face, before her dark bangs clung to her damp forehead.
Days like these reminded her of rainy mornings when she and August would challenge each other to see who could make the biggest splash in the muddiest puddle. They’d always end up tracking mud into the farmhouse living room, and Grandma Sarah always made a fuss over the two of them catching a cold out in the rain.
“June?” Abigail called out, the beginning of a teasing smile tugging up on her lips.
“Yeah?”
“So, are you too chicken to race me or?” Abigail allowed her words to sink in, knowing that if she framed it like that, there was no way June would say no to a challenge.
“Me?” June chuckled. “Chicken?”
Before she could say anything else though, Abigail cut her off.
“Last one there buys dinner!” That was the only notice Abigail gave her, before the purple-haired woman shot off like a rocket, bounding out of the cave with a giggle. That was one of the things June liked best about Abigail; she always went with the flow. June never had to think too hard when they were simply shooting the shit and hanging out in the mines.
“Hey!” June laughed as she followed after Abigail. “You had a head start!”
Then they were racing through the woods, down the dirt road back to Pelican Town.
The Saloon was always a bit of a ghost town on Monday nights, so June and Abigail seemed a little rowdier than usual as they barreled in through the double doors. Abigail arrived at the Saloon first, nearly tripping over her own feet as she grinned brightly at her small victory.
June was hot on the other woman’s heels, and ran into the Saloon a few seconds later.
“And that ladies and gents,” Abigail snickered, “is how you win a race!”
“Uh-huh,” June laughed. “By cheating?”
“Marlon said it himself.” Abigail puffed up her chest like a proud peacock. “It’s not cheating if you exploit your opponent’s weaknesses. All’s fair in the heat of combat.”
June feigned annoyance, but it was hard not to laugh as she followed after Abigail. The two of them slipped into a corner booth, sat opposite from each other as the warm crackle of the fireplace lulled them into the Saloon’s homey atmosphere.
Aside from a few regulars, the place was mostly empty: Willy was nodding off at one of the tables, Pam was sitting at the bar and talking to Gus, and some guy in a blue Joja hoodie was nursing a beer not too far from the fireplace. He looked like he had a storm raging behind his eyes, and he stared pensively at his feet as he took sips out of what must have been one of many bottles of beer.
She could smell him from here, like a distillery. Regret crammed into human form.
June would have stared a little longer if Abigail hadn’t reached out to tap her arm.
“Soooo, loser buys dinner?” Abigail grinned, leaning forward on her elbows.
“Jokes on you,” June mumbled. “I’m broke.”
“Last harvest didn’t pull through?” Abigail’s expression turned sympathetic. “I got you.”
She could only stare up at Abigail with gratitude. June liked to downplay how stressful taking on her grandparents’ property had truly been, but there were more bad days than good. She was a better fisherwoman and adventurer than she was a farmer, judging by the failing crops and the pest problem that never seemed to go away. Now that August was gone, there was nobody else to carry on the farm’s legacy. She had to make it work. It would have been what their grandpa wanted.
“You’re the best,” June whispered. “You know that, right?”
“Of course I do! When have I ever let you down?”
“I can think of a few—”
“Oh, shut up.” Abigail rolled her eyes, dismissing June’s playful jab with a wave of her hand as she puffed herself up with playful pride. “You said it yourself. I’m the best—"
June snorted.
Abigail shot her a look of righteous indignation, but quickly cracked a smile.
The sound of an exasperated sigh cut through the playful banter.
“Too damn loud,” the man slurred.
June looked up at the source of the irritated quip, had the misfortune of locking eyes with the man in the blue hoodie as he stared straight at them. The Saloon was quiet, and while their sudden outburst of laughter had probably drawn the attention of everyone in the room, he was the only person who looked angry. Their laughter agitated him, and if looks could kill, she had no doubt she and Abigail would have keeled over in their booth.
It was an awkward moment of silence—like they were caught in a strange staring contest—before the man broke eye contact, furrowed his brows, and glared at the floor.
“Hey, Ems,” he called out in a gruff voice that betrayed how tired he was. “Another beer.”
Good, neither of them had to be subjected to extended eye contact anymore.
“Hey, Abby.” June whispered as she cupped a hand over her mouth. “Who’s the grump in the corner?”
“Uh,” Abigail gave the man a quick glance before she whispered back. “Looks like that grump in the corner just heard you, y’know.”
June felt heat rushing up her face as she swiveled to look over her shoulder. He had indeed heard her little comment, and she was greeted by the sight of him glaring daggers at their table, mumbling about them being ‘damn inconsiderate’ as he raised a hand and flipped her off. He was clearly drunk, something June could tell the moment she and Abigail walked past him, but that didn’t stop petty annoyance from flaring in June’s chest.
If he was going to be an ass, well, two could play at that game.
“Right.” She took a deep breath, intentionally raising her voice. “Who’s the ass in the corner?”
Abigail couldn’t hold back a snort. She appreciated that June was equally as willing as her when it came to speaking her mind, consequences be damned. “That’s just Shane, he’s always like that. Anyways, where was I? You think Marlon will actually let us join the guild?”
That was an entirely different challenge.
They’d been trying to get on Marlon’s good side for a while now. Right now, they were both restricted to the upper floors, tasked with boring things like thinning out the slime population. It wasn’t much, but it was honest labor that both June and Abigail could toss themselves into a few times a week.
They stayed at the Saloon until midnight, hopping from arcade machine to arcade machine.
June liked to keep herself occupied. She tried to be alone in the farmhouse as little as possible, but she had an early morning the following day and needed to pick up chicken feed from Marnie.
That woman was Yoba-sent, really. The best neighbor anyone could ever ask for.
When June first moved into the farmhouse three months ago - back when the heating and power had still been out - Marnie had been kind enough to stop by with a welcome-back-to-the-valley casserole and a few blankets. Even back when June and August used to spend childhood summers in the valley, she remembered how her grandmother would stop by the ranch to trade produce for animal products, how the nice woman next door would let her pet the chickens.
June made a mental note to create a little thank-you basket for Marnie once the crops were ready.
After she and Abigail said their goodbyes, June made the lonely trek back to the farmhouse.
No matter what time she crawled into bed, June always woke up at the crack of dawn.
She felt a little disoriented from the lack of proper sleep, but then again, waking up in the room she and her brother used to share during summers in Pelican Town always felt a little jarring.
The room itself hadn’t changed, and the moment June rolled on her back and opened her eyes, she was greeted to the sight of the fading glow-in-the-dark stars August had pasted onto the ceiling back when she’d still been afraid of the dark.
There were memories of him scattered all throughout the farm house: posters of the rock bands he’d been into, video game magazines and miniature action figures on the shelves. June hadn’t had the energy to pack up any of his old things, but she didn’t really want to do that either. It was nice to still have the photos of those summer days hanging on the walls, to still have little reminders of grandpa, grandma, and her brother scattered throughout the farmhouse.
It was one of those days where June wanted to close her eyes and lay in bed for just a little longer, but if she fell asleep again, she doubted she’d wake up in time.
So, with a groan, she pushed off the covers and climbed out of bed.
June pulled on a hoodie, put on some pants, and made her way out into the hall. She had a sack of chicken feed to pick up, and the last thing she wanted was to keep Marnie waiting.
The early-morning walk to the ranch was a peaceful one, but instead of catching Marnie before she left for aerobics class, June noticed someone else sitting on the front steps.
It was the guy from the saloon. He was sitting on the porch with a bag of chicken feed beside him. He looked hungover, like he was having the worst morning of his life. June could tell he was suffering from the way he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, like he was fighting off a bad headache, and the way he squinted his eyes to avoid the early-morning sunlight.
Was he here for chicken feed too, or…? Where was Marnie?
She came to an abrupt stop on the other side of the fence, simply standing there as the man opened his eyes. Shane, right? She recalled Abigail mentioning his name. The moment he noticed her, there was a flicker of recognition followed by a sharp frown.
“Urgh,” he grumbled. “Don’t tell me you’re the farmer next door?”
Wait, why was he expecting her? Suddenly the puzzle pieces fell into place.
“You’re Marnie’s nephew?” June squeaked out.
How? Marnie was the sweetest neighbor anyone could ever ask for. Generous, kind, and patient… and she’d called the woman’s nephew an asshole. It didn’t take long for June to feel a rush of heat creeping up her neck and cheeks, and she realized she was probably burning tomato-red and looking like an absolute fool.
A part of her prayed Yoba would smite her down where she stood.
“Last I checked, yeah.” Fuck. His head was throbbing. Even though Shane couldn’t fully recall what had gone down at the saloon, he remembered getting pissed off at all the noise. She’d been there too, with Abigail. Something in the back of his head told him she’d been the source of his annoyance, and that he might have done something he shouldn’t have. “So… you just gonna stand there, or are we gonna get this back to the farm? The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can go.”
He was more mellow now that he was sober, and if he remembered the part where she’d called him an asshole from the booth, he didn’t show it.
It didn’t make the whole thing any less mortifying though.
“Yeah, yeah,” June stammered out as she approached him. “Let me help—”
“I got this,” Shane interrupted with a grunt. “It’ll be faster if you let me do it.” He had the steely resolve of a man who wanted to finish his work as quickly as possible. He wanted to spend the rest of his morning passed out on the couch so he could wake up at noon for his shift at Joja.
With a bit of a wobble, Shane stood up. His knees creaked as he straightened up to his full height, and he did a little stretch before he turned toward the sack of chicken feed and wrapped his arms around it. With a grunt, Shane lifted the sack off the ground and slung it over his shoulder with a certain practiced ease. He’d never been the pinnacle of good health—had been abusing his Yoba damned liver for the past couple of years too—but he knew a thing or two about manual labor from stacking boxes at Joja Mart and helping his aunt run the ranch.
Maybe he didn’t look it, but he was strong.
The moment Shane began walking away from the porch, the chickens that had been roaming the yard began squawking as they followed after him. There were at least a handful of hens trailing at Shane’s heels, and their mere presence brought a faint smile to his grumpy face. The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement as he let out the softest laugh.
“Ladies, ladies,” he mumbled in that gravelly morning voice of his. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”
June blinked once, twice, and found herself staring at Shane for longer than she should have. There was a flicker of surprise in her wide-eyed gaze, and she found herself lingering on the way his arms and shoulders went taut against the fabric of his green Tunnelers jersey.
“You coming or what?” Shane huffed.
And June had to remind herself to tear her eyes away.