Liminal Space | A Stardew Valley FanFiction

Chapter 14

"Bye, Cal," Abigail whispered into my neck, her head resting cautiously on my shoulder and violet strands of hair flowing down my back. "Will you text me later?"

"Of course," I said, our embrace quickly becoming polluted by secrets that the other already knew. "Get home safe."

The hurricane was over. As many times as Robin carefully suggested we might just be in the eye, Sebastian reassured her that the radar knew more than her; she accepted the conclusion rather begrudgingly. Brunch was served over a presumptuous quiet and Sebastian's fork scraped the plate periodically, the screech grating against my hangover. It only took him a few more pointed glances at Abigail for her to get the hint.

Now, with her bag haphazardly stuffed with clothes that had clearly just been shoved in, I was almost sad to see her go. Maybe it was because she was a buffer—a damn good one, at that—and her absence left Sebastian and I to stew in the aftermath of our civil conversation.

Only we would be freaked out by an exchange of pleasantries but unphased by a life-altering fight, I thought.

Oh, God, the foyer was silent. Robin had already scurried back upstairs to begin restoration preparations for the farm and Demetrius hummed to himself in the lab—I imagined him to be blissfully working away. Maru, who had been M.I.A. for days, was likely tinkering in the basement beneath her room, hiding from the storm and from us.

"What now?" He asked.

"Should we play outside?" I asked, only half joking. I was dying to escape this house—noisy memories clanged in shadowy corners that were getting harder and harder to avoid.

"Should we—what?" He laughed. "Are you kidding?"

"Better that than focusing on how shitty I feel right now."

"I don't know how," Sebastian started. "But I think I'm hungover and still a little drunk at the same time."

"You know what they said is the best cure for a hangover?"

"More alcohol?"

"Well, I was going to say fresh air, but that works too."

"I know you, Callie," Sebastian said. My terrible heart fluttered. "And I know you can't pass up a mimosa."

I could feel my body begging me not to, but a slender glass was already sliding into my hand before I could voice it. Seeing him holding his flute brought me back to the funeral, the golden liquid a stark contrast to the water he had that day. His face had healed since, but he'd never shaken the tiredness now encased within his once youthful features. My head dizzied at the thought.

My mind and my stomach were thankful for the orange juice that masked the champagne, but were still weary of what laid beneath the beauty. I felt the consequences of the evening before—and the entire night—and this morning; it was by no means a good idea to drink again, but maybe—just maybe—it would work out in my favor this time. Better to obliterate our minds than focus on the unspeakable thoughts brewing in them, I decided.

I couldn't understand what was happening, and part of me didn't want to. The animosity, the hatred, the looming knowledge of our past—it had disappeared so suddenly that I almost questioned if it ever existed. Was getting laid really all it took?

My blood boiled at the thought, then ran cold at the memory. "Well, what are we waiting for?" I said, my mouth pulpy and saliva thick. "Come on!"

And he did, and we went outside, and the sun pricked my skin like it used to and my days in that basement quickly disappeared; as the day passed, the years that we lived in silence faded too—it was all a distant memory that begged to be forgotten. Leftover alcohol mingled with the morning's mixed drinks, and the concoction swirled around my stomach as the mud dried into dirt and coated our bare feet. The sky fell into dusk around us—despite our begging the sun to stay—dragging a cool September evening behind it. We layed in the dirt and basked in the starlight.