Big Book Of Sjips One Shots

It Was Never Much (S)

TW: Fluffs, Maybe Mild Angst

Some might argue that he was never mine to have, not mine to love; I would argue the contrary, though not without a fair amount of guilt- it's always been about guilt. Even when I called him mine and he called me his it was always a game of blame, more so with others than between ourselves; my fault something didn't work, his fault for not reading the instructions correctly. But that's not to say that was constant; no, he was the first to apologize most of the time, and when he wouldn't it meant I had really
fucked up.

But things would be alright, always alright; and Xeph would say how I could do better, and Honeydew would tell Xeph to not talk that way. Bless that dwarf; always on our side. Dave helped us when he could, bringing in the quarries we requested; mainly gems we couldn't manage to find on our own; he was a very helpful man, haven't seen him in ages.

There were always people who visited us for no reason other than to judge us; wondering why he was so obnoxious, question my logic behind following someone they deemed a madman. He was never a madman, filled with brash hope and inspiration, but never madness. He was the most intuitive person I ever knew, full of life and wonder despite his facade of grumpy impassiveness; who else would dream up a dirt factory and dedicate themselves 100% to the idea, going so far as to spend countless waking nights in a lab running chemical tests to determine the best quality of dirt.

I remember him sending samples and his own results to Lalna for a second opinion; to this day everyone credits Lal' for making the dirt good, completely discrediting the one who deserved it all. But he never made a big deal about it, would shrug it off and continue to build, to eat lunch, to sit around by the pool relaxing; he'd calm me down when I got worked up about it, my logic being that if he wasn't going to get upset about it then someone had to. He'd kiss me, use one of the dumb pet names I spend 5 minutes laughing at, always a little embarrassed he came up with something so ridiculous, but not caring because when I smiled, he smiled; freckled cheeks rising with the turn of his lips. It was one of my favorite things.

I wish I could say it was always like that, that everything was so easily resolved with a kiss and reassurance; it wasn't, a lot of it wasn't. That's how my "dream of running a farm" spawned. I remember it was a bright day and I found him on the front porch, knees pulled up to his chest, face half-hidden behind his folded arms, covering the freckles I loved so much. I promised him I'd be back, that it wasn't anything he did: only one of those things was true- I fully intended to return one day.

He was a loud man, open and foul-mouthed, and sometimes the teasing was too much, even when I knew it was done with love. I wanted to get away from him, for how long I didn't know; so I made up the farm idea, and I left on a whim with an axe, some dirt, and homemade bread. It wasn't much, but it's what I needed.

As night fell and I finished pitching my makeshift shelter that first night, I barely sat down before crying openly into the night, already regretting my decision but somehow knowing it was still better for me; maybe even for the both of us. By the end of the first week I no longer felt alone, and with my farm construction well underway I was
distracted, and for a month after that. Then 2 months after that.

It was my 5th month away from home when I realized; ...I was away from home, and had been for 5 months, and that for 4 of those 5 I hadn't thought about my spouse at all, and that night, for the first time in all the months that had passed, I cried.

I couldn't safely leave the farm for another 2 months, I had left home in late May and it was getting cold, I couldn't leave the crops planted, animals unkempt, and the fields unprotected: it took me those 2 whole months to treat everything appropriately. It was mid December when I wrapped up in the only coat I had and his scarf, one I hadn't noticed I'd taken until then, and I powered through the long journey back, biting back the desire to camp when the winds began to sting my skin.