The Runaway: A Stardew Valley Story

Space Cadet

Leah

Something is different with Elliot. He has that look he got when he decided to scrap an entire series and start fresh a few months ago. His gaze is distant. His words are careless. He stepped on my toes twice during the dance.

As Elliot's only friend, I try to pretend that this is the face of a man in love. Elliot needs someone like Junox, or Joy, or whatever her name is. He doesn't look so disconnected from reality when he's around her, and I wish it was because he's falling for her.

But this is the look Elliot got when he decided to scrap an entire series and start fresh.

This is the face of a man with a story.

"The little witch is more bothered by Sebastian's absence than I would have thought." When Elliot says the word witch, it's said with a fondness that I realize that's how he sees Abigail as a character. "I thought she was indifferent to him."

"Stop sticking your nose in other people's personal affairs and mind your own business!" I hiss.

"I'm not prying," Elliot defends himself, "just observing."

I cannot kill Elliot, I remind myself. That would be murder. Murder is illegal. People in jail don't get to make cool sculptures for a living. I cannot kill Elliot.

I sigh. "Well, are you going to keep pushing your stuffed eggs around or are we ready to go?"

My friend looks down at his plate where his plastic fork has played table hockey with hard-boiled eggs for the past ten minutes. Elliot drops the fork and turns to me with a grim expression. "Fine, you win. We can go on one condition."

"Short of performing that misogynistic dance again, I'm down for anything."

"Murder?" Elliot shoots me a cheeky grin.

Damn, that man really can read minds.

"No!"

Laughing, Elliot rises and offers a hand to me as I attempt to pull myself free of the picnic table without letting the whole town see my underwear. I'm not a big fan of nude panties, so this is the only pair I own. They've survived the past five Flower Dances, but the whole in between the elastic and cotton has only been widening. It might be time to order something new.

The people of Pelican wish us well with smiles, waves, and shouts of goodbye. No one here has ever minded our taste in romantic companions — though I believe George thinks Elliot and I are together-together — and that came as something of a shock to me when I moved here straight out of art school. I'd always pictured small towns with small minds, but I was wrong. The people of Pelican are the reason I stayed.

"It's a real shame, Kel wasn't able to make it," Lewis says as he claps a hand to my shoulder. "She knows she's welcome to take Elliot's place, right?"

The smile on my face turns to plastic. "Of course. She's just busy." I trail off before I can mutter the same useless filler words like painting, gallery, commission, or show.

"Watch your tongue, Mayor," Elliot teases. "I take great pride in leading my dearest friend in the dance, and I will not be tossed aside like an old spinster."

"I s'pose I'll leave this between you three for next year, then!" The mayor laughs and slaps his thigh.

After giving the mayor a round of placating laughter, Elliot and I drift away from the throng of townspeople. Elliot walks like a space cadet. His head is far beyond the clouds, and his feet stumble on loose ground. When we near my cottage, Elliot veers to the left toward Marnie's.