Frogs in the Rain (Stardew Valley // Sebastian)

A Talk of Fathers, and the Friend Who Hides

Nix drank like a fountain. That's what Sam Walker concluded after that night. They remained at the Stardrop Saloon until midnight, ordering drink after drink to go with their pizza. Abigail went home first, the wine giving her a headache. Sam remembered staying, watching Nix with awe as she downed her fifth drink and carried on their conversions without so much as slurred speech.

"And then my mother called me [̴̬̥̉̀E̷̛͓͇͠r̸̛̠͕̫͗̌͆͘r̷̺̽́̈́͘ò̸͖̚͜͝͝ŕ̵͍̺̺]̷̠̮̼̙̺͍̈̀͘. That's my [̴̬̥̉̀E̷̛͓͇͠r̸̛̠͕̫͗̌͆͘r̷̺̽́̈́͘ò̸͖̚͜͝͝ŕ̵͍̺̺]̷̠̮̼̙̺͍̈̀͘ name... It hurt, so I just... left..."

They were talking about why she moved to the valley, but now that he was lying in bed with a massive hangover, he could hardly remember what she had said. All he could vividly recall was how absolutely not drunk she was after nearly half a dozen drinks. It was impressive, to say the least.

"Sam, dear," his mom, Jodi, called with a slight knock. She poked her head into the room, giving him a glimpse of the woman's long, strawberry-blond hair and oval face. Her hazel eyes worriedly watched her eldest son. "Abigail is here with some coffee to help with the headache."

For a moment, Sam blushed. He wearily glanced at his room. Was it clean enough? A moment later, the headache gripped his face, and he decided he didn't care too much. "Let her in," he groaned while turning towards the window. It was a bright, sunny day out. Perfect for skateboarding. Behind him, the door creaked open.

"Hey," Abigail began. "A little birdie told me you were feeling so horrible today you used one of your vacation days to get out of work. So, I brought you a little something."

Sam rolled over and sat up, taking the black thermos his friend was thrusting into his face. That "little birdie" must've been his mom, who was so incredibly pissed at him for coming home plastered. Had Nix not been there, the farmer nearly dragging him as his arm draped around her shoulder, his mom might've yelled.

Sam opened the thermos, lifting it to his lips and letting the bitter liquid spill onto his tongue. "Thanks. How are you feeling?"

"Better than you, obviously." Abigail eyed the drums in the corner of the room. "I came to drag you to Capricorn Grove."

"Why?"

"Because it's your fault we feel like this," Abigail accused. It was at that moment that Sam realized Abigail had more than two thermoses with her, the last one sticking out of her cross-shoulder bag like a sore thumb.

"Something tells me she won't need that," he mumbled as he took another sip.

Abigail stared at him in disbelief. "She drank more than me, and all I had was a little bit of wine. She had gin."

"Maybe I'm just imagining what I saw last night," Sam groaned, shoving his throbbing head between his knees. "Because she definitely didn't seem drunk."

"Well, I'll be the judge of that then." Abigail put her free hand on her hip and turned towards his bedroom door. "Go get ready. I'll be in the living room."

Heaving a weighted sigh, Sam slung his legs over the side of the bed, nearly spilling the coffee all over himself. He was in for one hell of a day, he just knew it.

...

By the time they arrived at Capricorn Grove, Sam's headache had only improved slightly. He blinked incessantly at the sun, praying with each spout of darkness that it would just disappear and replace itself with the much more pleasant moon. Walking five steps ahead of him, Abigail trudged into the dirt pastures that lead to the old farmhouse.