The Runaway: A Stardew Valley Story

Rowdy Howdy

As odd as it sounds, stepping into the Rowdy Howdy fills me with a sense of calm. The smell of beer and sweat, the pulsing music and pounding feet, and even the rainbow-colored strobe lights remind me of long nights spent with Gussy on the dance floors of our favorite clubs. It was rare that my friend could sneak me away from Joshua once we were engaged, but my parents went on many long trips. Most of the clubs we visited played something other than country music, but I suppose that's one way to avoid running into someone we know.

"I'll have a Bloody Meredith," I yell at the bartender over the roar of the nightlife.

Sebastian grabs my sleeve. He leans low to whisper, "Pregnant women can't drink, Junox. It's bad for—"

"ID?" the bartender with a long blonde beard asks.

"Put it on Mr. White's tab," I reply instead.

The bearded man nods and turns to Sebastian. "And for you?"

My companion blinks in surprise. When he doesn't respond, I speak up, "Piña Colada."

The bartender turns around grabbing metal shakers and glass cups from rickety racks. Sebastian's pale hands are gripped in a tight fist with somehow paler knuckles. He opens his mouth but only stares at the scars on the wooden bar top. Finally, Sebastian looks away to hide his signature almost pained expression.

I tentatively touch Sebastian's white knuckles with the tips of my fingers. "Sorry to drag you into all of this. I should have never asked for your help."

"Don't," Sebastian says, "apologize. I told you to reach out for help when you need it, and you did."

My hands grip my arms to my chest. "But you're upset about something."

Sebastian finally looks at me. His dark eyes search my face. He takes a deep breath and prepares to say something, but of course the gruff voice of the bartender drowns him out.

"You kids will be more comfortable at table nine," the bartender says as he slams down two glasses and points to a private booth in the darkest section of the room.

I smile a thank you and grab our beverages. Sebastian follows with a posture of robotic rigidity. His dark eyes are wide and his lips a straight line. When we finally make it to table nine, Sebastian draws himself into the corner as tight as he can go.

"Sebastian?" I start. "You're scaring me. What's wrong?"

Without meeting my eyes, Sebastian says, "I just don't do so well in crowds. It makes me... nervous."

"Maybe a drink will help?"

My companion snorts. "Uh, I hate Piña Coolada — like with a burning passion." Pink blooms in Sebastian's cheeks, and it strikes me how much life the color gives his pale complexion. He looks up in surprise when I burst out laughing at his statement.

"Me too!" I say between giggles. "I mean with the Bloody Meredith, I hate them!"

"Huh? Why did you order it then? That's wasteful!"

"It's a code for Gussy."

Sebastian's eyebrow arches. "Oh, so you mean she actually does have a bone of stealth in her body? Maybe the farmer will last the year."

My cheeks burn with a smile at the small victory in Sebastian's teasing. The corners of his lips have loosened, and his eyes hold my gaze steady with little crinkles at the edges. This suits him better, I decide. It's not a full smile, but maybe Sebastian doesn't need one.

"You can have my drink if you want?"

Lines form around the corners of Sebastian's mouth and forehead as he crinkles his nose. "No thanks."