Liminal Space | A Stardew Valley FanFiction

Chapter 11 - Then

The four of us laid beneath the stars, our backs collecting dirt and flattening the grass. It was hard to describe the feeling—the comfort of companionship, the way the breeze softened the heat of that humid July night. It all felt so simple, pointing to constellations and craning our necks to see what the others' fingers saw; fireflies flickered around us and the lake glinted in the moonlight.

Abby was the first to retreat home, followed shortly after by Sam, both grumbling about their curfews and cursing their parents. Seb and I didn't mind.

It had been a little over a week since I'd lost my grandfather, the days blurring into one another. I filled my days with distractions in order to shut off my mind—to not think about what would happen to me after his service; after the paperwork was sorted out. I stayed in the farmhouse alone, spending my free moments mourning in the dark of the cabin, Lewis popping in from time to time to ask how I was holding up and flashing me a sympathetic smile in return. Now, as I admired the sky, I imagined Grandpa as each of the stars, looking for clumps of three and hoping that within them, my family had united once more. My stomach turned at the thought of it.

I was no stranger to loss. It felt more familiar than foreign; I possessed an intimate understanding of human temporality. I found relief in being lonely—it eliminated the chance of being left, which was starting to feel inevitable.

"Callie," Seb whispered, rolling over to face me. "I've been meaning to tell you something."

"What's up?" I asked, mirroring his movement. A heavy silence lingered between us; I held my breath.

"I think I might be—well, I know I am, but I'm not sure if you—"

"Seb," I said, cutting him off. My heart was racing. "What is it?"

"I think I've fallen in love with you."

"What?" I froze, paralyzed with a fear whose root I couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I've fallen in love with you, Cal," he repeated. "I've always loved you, of course, but it feels different than it used to."

Every bone in my body ached with love for him, a love that never faltered or questioned itself or considered existing for anyone else. He was there, and he'd been there since we were six, and he hadn't left since. We experienced everything together—a decade's worth of growing up—and I wanted a million more. This was everything I'd ever wanted him to say, and I wanted to leap on top of him and kiss him until our lungs gave out and do that again and again for the rest of our lives. Everything we'd done—everything the universe had done to us—led us straight back into the other's arms, and I never wanted that to change.

But if I loved him, and he knew it, it would only be a matter of time before he was gone, too.

Maybe witnessing death does something irreversible to you—the kind of trauma that's a silent killer. I tried to pretend like it didn't, like I was above the innate need for human connection. Sitting nearby those who care, but just barely out of reach.

"Seb—"

"I know you feel this," he urged, sitting upright. I followed suit. "Right?"

"Seb, I can't," I muttered against the wishes of every fiber of my being. "I can't. I'm not—I'm not in a good place right now."

He placed his hands on my shoulders and stared through me, his dark eyes scouring mine. "I want to be there for you. You've been dealt a shitty hand, and I'm sorry for that. That doesn't make me feel any differently about you, okay? I know you're in a bad place, but just let me in, please. I can help."

"How can you help?" I choked, tears filling my eyes. My tone was harsher than I meant it to be. "You can't possibly understand what this feels like, and I never want you to. I've lost everyone I've ever loved. You think that's a risk I'm willing to take with you?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he said sternly. "I promise."

An unwelcome anger swelled within me, my mind resenting him for making promises he couldn't physically keep and my heart resenting my mind for thinking that way. I hated him for trying to make something of us in the midst of all this grief, to bring about more uncertainty when all I wanted was stability.

"Words mean nothing," I snapped. "You can't change fate."

"I'm not trying to change fate, Cal. Don't you get it? You and I...we are fate. It's us, and it's always been us, and I don't know who I'd become without you...probably some kind of monster."

"You're the one who doesn't get it, Seb," I said, more loudly than before. "You never will. Losing family takes and it takes and it takes. You never shake it. I'm still mourning my parents whose faces I can barely remember...I don't think I even have the capacity to love anymore."

His eyes grew glassy and regret replaced my anger. "I lost my dad, too!" He shouted, standing up. "I watched him leave; I watched my mom start a new and improved family that I've never once been a part of. So don't sit here and feed me that bullshit—that I 'don't understand.' At least your family died loving you—my father disappeared and never gave half a damn."

"Are you seriously trying to compete right now?" The regret had morphed into something more complex, manifesting itself as maniacal laughter. "My grandfather died one fucking week ago. I'm sorry that I'm trying to deal with it before jumping into a relationship."

"My grandfather died twelve years ago," he snarled, launching himself off of the ground and turning around. "Get over it."

"What did you just say?" I followed closely behind him.

"I said get over it, Callie!" He was screaming now, his face scarily close to mine. "You've been a sob story since I met you, and I made the mistake of falling into your trap. You've never once cared to ask what it's like to be in my shoes, and you never will. I've been here for years and years for no goddamn reason except for the fact that I cared, and now I'm in fucking love with you, and you can't even say it back—after everything I've done. Who has been there for you every single time? It was me that held your hand through it all—me who sat in that hospital lobby, me who heard his last words.It wasn't Sam, or Abby, or any of your other fairweather friends."

"Fuck you," I whispered. "How could you bring that up? Act like I asked for all of this?"

"Fuck you, Callie," he hissed. "You—"

Before I could even register my own movements, my hand was flying towards his face, colliding with his nose. Blood poured from his nostrils almost immediately, pure shock plastering itself onto his features. It looked bad—really bad. Swollen and pulpy and already halfway bruised. I held my wrist and wondered how I mustered up that kind of strength. I felt scared of myself.

"I could never love someone like you," I spat, lying through my teeth. "You're a sorry excuse for a friend—I can't even imagine what kind of partner you'd be."

It was at that moment that I realized things would never be the same. Everything we'd been through was for nothing, because I couldn't confront my feelings and he couldn't control his anger. My ego and my heart had each other by the throat, each immoral to their own degree. It was a miserable existence.

He spit crimson into the grass, giving me one last look over before saying, ever so quietly, "I believed in you, Callie. In us. You've been a monumental waste of my time."

And then he was gone, disappearing into the night so quickly that I almost believed he was never there at all. I prayed to whoever was out there—which, at this point, I knew was nobody—to let this be a dream. A terrible, gut-wrenching nightmare that would fade with the sunrise.

It wasn't.

And the nightmare had only just begun.