Liminal Space | A Stardew Valley FanFiction

Chapter 20

"There is no way I'm getting on the back of that thing."

The dark blue of Seb's motorcycle almost camouflaged with the night, only the gleam of its shimmery finish distinguishing it from the earth that surrounded it. It had the same mysterious sparkle that Seb's eyes had long held, and I wanted to smear the pigment atop everything I owned. I imagined cabinets and floorboards and wall trim drenched in it; a colorful collision of homes.

"C'mon, Cal," he cooed, patting the seat behind him. His left hand held a helmet while his right cradled a cigarette. "Pick your poison."

He chuckled as I clipped the cigarette from his fingers, letting the smoke coat my throat and drown my brain in a momentary buzz. The buckle clasped together beneath my chin, Seb grinning as he fiddled with the helmet's hard shell.

"Phew," he whistled, his eyes descending down my body. "You're the only person who could look sexy in that thing."

"You're right," I smirked, raising an eyebrow at his identical helmet. "It's not your best look."

"Fuck off," he laughed, dragging me into a kiss that could've lit the world on fire.

He adjusted the position of my feet and urged my arms to wrap around his waist as I climbed behind him, whispering sweet instructions into my ears.

"I'm scared," I breathed as he accelerated, the wind knocking my voice out of my throat.

"You'll be okay, darling," he reassured me, his left hand disconnecting with the handlebars to grab mine. His kiss was gentle on my skin; I wanted to tattoo the feeling.

The road became blurry with movement, tunnels occasionally obstructing the night sky and making the reappearance of the stars feel even more striking. They twinkled above us, and I drew invisible lines between the constellations, making them whole again. No matter how fast we moved—how far we went—they seemed to stay stationary; I was starting to wonder if everything was—at its core—some beautiful metaphor for love.

"Where are we going?" I asked after an extensive quiet. The path felt like one I'd taken before, the darkness shrouding the scenery. There was a familiar chill in the air that signaled the world was still turning, and I basked in the feeling.

His answer was simply parking the motorcycle beside a wall of trees, their leaves painted with the palette of flames. Their fallen counterparts crunched beneath our shoes as we trekked beneath a canopy of foliage, a clearing awaiting our arrival several feet ahead.

And then I saw it, and my mind barely had time to register what was in front of me before tears began cascading down my face and soaking my collar.

Four apple trees laid before us, three fully grown and one barely bigger than a sapling. In front of it was the boulder, the one that had our names scribbled in childhood handwriting. Only, this time, a dark X covered the bottom half, replacing the original word with another.

Seb and Callie's Tree of Life Love

To its right proudly stood the latter three, each bearing fruit and a stone of their own.

Karen Kennedy, 1966-2004.

Christopher Kennedy, 1970-2005.

Randall Kennedy, 1941-2018.

I felt them there, looking down on us, and for once, relief poured over me. The guilt that had followed me for years began to dissipate and was carried away by the late fall breeze, like seeds from whitened dandelions after a wish-filled exhale. I looked over at Sebastian and watched the constellations dance in his eyes. It was as though he was the universe—the ground I stood on, the atmosphere that surrounded me. It had always been him.

He swept me into his arms, and the elements around us disappeared, just as I thought they would. Soft kisses graced my forehead, almost silent I love yous escaping his lips.

"You did this for me?" I asked, brushing his wind-swept hair out of his eyes.

"I'd do anything for you," he replied lazily, wearing a love-struck smile. "You know, I've found that not every ending is permanent. Some are simply doorways into new beginnings, you know? Maybe our tree fell because we weren't meant to live like this anymore—constantly dancing around the truth and pretending like it didn't kill us inside."

"Yes," I whispered, squeezing his ribcage until I could feel every groove. It made an almost scary amount of sense—fate, the logistican's worst enemy. If I'd been asked merely days ago, I would've claimed everything to be a result of something else—like a never-ending conveyor belt or assembly line—to avoid believing that sometimes, we relinquish control to something bigger than ourselves. "Thank you, Seb."

He rubbed circles on the small of my back, his touch so gentle that it almost felt phantom. I stood before the Kennedys that preceded me, that created me, that made me. I could almost hear their laughs that I thought were long forgotten; I could almost see their smiles and feel their embrace.

"How rude of me," I said, Seb raising an eyebrow at the attitude shift. "Mom, Dad, Grandpa—this is Seb, my boyfriend. I've been dying for you to meet him...Grandpa, you remember him, don't you?"