Liminal Space | A Stardew Valley FanFiction

Chapter 14

"Cal," Sebastian said quietly, his tone disrupting the carefree atmosphere. "Would you want to talk about—um...well—what went down?"

"We really don't have to," I sighed, rolling over to look at him. His face was painted with cool light, dark strands of hair tickling his face from the breeze. The night sky danced in his eyes; I almost lost myself in them. "I appreciate you asking, though."

"What if I want to talk about it?" He took a swig from the beer in his hand, and I followed suit—a kick of carbonation following the sip of my seltzer.

"What's on your mind?" I asked gingerly, tipping my head back and allowing the rest of the liquid to cascade down my throat. If last night was bad, I could only imagine the hangover waiting for me.

"I've been waiting to yell at you like that for years," he admitted, staring at the ground. "I thought it would help, that it would make all of the feelings valid."

"Okay." There was nothing else to say.

"It didn't. So then I thought, 'let me do something even worse,' so I did. I did it because I was horny and—probably above that—I wanted you to hear. I wanted you to know that if you didn't want me, there was someone else who did. But after the fact, I felt nothing but shame. Shame that I used Abigail's body as a pawn in our little mind game, shame that it meant something to her and nothing to me, shame that you heard it and shame that it didn't do what I'd hoped."

"Do you still—" forbidden words danced on my tongue. "Do you still feel something for me?"

The silence was heavy. I could feel it crushing my bones, one by one, as his gaze held mine and something indiscernible flickered within it.

"Does love like that ever really go away?" He asked, almost silently, as though he were only talking to himself.

"No," I whispered. "Sometimes I wish it would."

He nodded, and for a brief moment, the flood gates had opened and we could see each other for what we were: hopelessly fused together.

He hated it as much as I did. The unbreakable bond of childhood innocence, first loves, shared trauma—it shackled us to one another with cuffs that tightened each time we pulled away. We could run and run just to find that, once we slowed—out of breath and sweaty—we were still attached by metal chains and unrelenting regret.

And then he kissed me.

He kissed me, and I felt everything I thought I'd lived a million times over die and be born again. Years upon years of not-so-unrequited love and angst and hatred and lust and a phenomenon much deeper that didn't have a name yet, just an explosion of something that I never wanted to end.

And then it dawned on me: we'd never kissed, never had an embrace more intimate than my cheek resting on his shoulder or his hand in mine. It felt wrong and more than right at the same time; we were drunk and he'd brought my best friend to bed the night before, but it was us. Was there anything more right than that?

His thumb drew circles on my cheek as his lips brushed mine, and they never grew hungrier or even thought about it. It was like a crop's first drink of water after a drought, the sting of sunlight on pale skin. The way he smelled—raw cedar and amber—the scent that had enveloped me at the flower dance and bit my nostrils at the funeral and lingered in the air even when he wasn't around. The sound of his lungs filling and deflating, the gentle caress of his eyelashes against mine. Parts of him that existed only in the back of my mind—parts of him that existed only when I allowed myself to indulge in a daydream, only when hating him became too exhausting.

"We should get to bed," he sighed as he pulled away, turning his flushed face towards the sky once more. We were locked in a silent agreement that there was nothing left to say. "We're both in for a hell of a hangover."

"Don't remind me," I breathed out, already swallowing bile that pooled at the bottom of my throat. "I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

"Roger that," he said, hoisting himself off of the grass and extending a strong hand down to me. We walked in silence towards the house, and at the fork in the hallway, he whispered an unintelligible goodnight and veered towards Maru's room.

I grabbed my pillow and blanket from the floor and walked towards the bathroom, sparing myself from the cursed—and likely inevitable—sprint I had to endure the night before. The ghost of my younger self sat behind me, watching the night unfold with a pained smile.

Nothing lasts forever, she whispered, her aura screaming I told you so. I dismissed her and my thoughts, my cheek pressed against the cold toilet seat and two days worth of alcohol waiting to spill back into the bowl.

Nothing lasts forever, I agreed. And I meant it.