Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon.

- - - - - Chapter 1: Remember - - - - -

You know, I always thought that arranged marriages were a thing of the past. I actually thought those customs were extinct. We were in the twenty-first century for crying out loud! So who was I that deserved such brutal treatment? What happened to all of those rights such as freedom of speech and choice?

Why should I get stuck with some girl I never even met for the rest of my life? Why couldn't I just meet someone on my own accord and fall in love? That barmaid named Amy down the street was pretty cute… But that was beside the point.

Why did I need my parent's help with marriage? Didn't they care about how I felt? Didn't they realize that I was a grown man, capable of making life-altering decisions? Who cares if I fucked up? I was an adult. That's what they do, don't they? Live and learn. That's the basis of life, after all.

But no, of course not. They never cared about anything or anyone except for their precious money. Not even their own son. Their only son. Their only child.

It makes me sick to think that I'm only alive because of the two of them.

Dear Julius,

I'm sorry your father and I didn't get the chance to wish you a happy birthday. But since you're twenty-one now, we need to discuss your future.

I have sealed a plane ticket for you to come see us in New York on the 15th of winter. Looking forward to seeing you.

Love, Mom

I stared down at the piece of parchment numbly. If this was eight years ago, I would have been pissed. But I was so used to my mother always sending me such short letters that it didn't even remotely faze me anymore. Never bothered to call to see how I was doing, but a four-sentence letter deemed just in her corrupted, little mind.

But what did I care? It didn't matter much to me. I couldn't say that I even ever loved my mother. My father? Forget him. I haven't seen him since I was thirteen, even though he was well and alive. He was just totally forgetting the fact that he even had a son.

Maybe it was because I put him to shame. Maybe because he was so ashamed to have such a son like me. I didn't care. Screw him. He deserved it, the bastard. At least my mother bothered to write me once or twice a year.

My parents were always so involved with their business world that they never had time for me. It was always about the money. Money, money, money. They should never have even had me. Why bother having a kid if you're not even around to witness the joy that having your own baby could provide? They were both totally unjust as parents. And I always swore, when I would have a child of my own, I would spoil them rotten. And shower them with such love and attention that they actually felt suffocated. As long as they felt loved, it would make me die happy.

When I was a little boy, I would go for weeks without seeing a glimpse of my mother or father. They hired a nanny to take care of me. The majority of the time they couldn't even speak English and it was always a new face every week. I never even bothered to get to know one of them because it was someone new all the time.

…There just wasn't any point.

So, every day I was alone with no one to talk to. Imaginary friends got boring after awhile. You could only beat them in checkers so many times.

I always did what I could to make myself look like a troubled child. I just wanted the attention. I didn't care if it was from my classmates or my teachers or a bum on the street. As long as someone paid attention to me, I was happy. I colored on the walls, I kicked over furniture, and I left the water running. A spanking or a maybe time-out. It was all good to me. It was perfect.

In elementary school, I was the child that would always be punished and sent to sit in the corner, forced to stare at the wall. I always talked back and I never listened to a word anybody ever said. I didn't care. I was getting some sort of attention – whether it to be bad or positive. It was all the same to me.

And I got even worse in middle school. I got constant detentions and received my first suspension. That's when everything started going downhill. I was out of control and I started hanging out with the wrong crowd. Yo, want some weed? Sure.

High school? Don't even get me started. Stayed back a year because I always skipped class. Never made up any of my detentions and was expelled and suspended a few times. In school suspensions? My middle name. By the time I was finally a senior, they didn't care what happened to me. Skip class? That's okay, let's turn the other cheek. They just wanted me out.

But I don't regret any of it. At least I'm remembered. Even if it's in a negative way, at least someone will always remember me… and tell stories to their friends about that purple-haired asshole that did this or that.

The point was always the same. To be remembered.

"Julius, it's good to see you."

I stared at my mother without smiling and proceeded to sit down in a chair. She had invited me into her luxurious office that had windows that viewed the entirety of New York City. If it wasn't for my mother's connections, wealth, and status I'd be a bum on the very streets that I was looking at right now. She's the only reason why I even have my own clothing business – because she was the one that supplied me with the money to get it started.

Why? I honestly have no idea. To make her and my father look good? Most likely. Of course they couldn't be seen with a good-for-nothing son that did nothing with his life. And fashion was my only real interest.

"Where's dad?" I asked nonchalantly, eye-balling the walls of her office.

"He couldn't make it today, sweetie."

I stared at her long and hard. She was sitting upright, and very properly. She was dressed up in a black business suit and heels – the typical uniform. Her sleek, purple hair was down and straight and she was emitting a strong aroma of expensive, rosy-perfume.

And this woman was the reason why I was blessed with such good looks. The same face structure and the same attributes. Same hair, same eyes, same complexion. I thanked God everyday that I looked nothing like my father.

I coughed politely. "Alright. So what did you need to talk to me about?"

"Now, I know you have your own clothing industry. But there are larger matters at hand," she replied monotonously. "I was waiting for the day that you finally would turn twenty-one."

"Go on," I pressured, rolling my eyes.

"Before you were born, your father and I had an arranged marriage set up for you."

…What the fu—?

A couple moments of silence was all I needed to take it all in.

An arranged marriage?

"What are you talking about?" I finally said, cautiously.

"Your father and I have arranged you to marry a family friend's daughter. She's from an equally wealthy and well-off family as ours. Your marriage to her will finally stabilize our connection with them."

"You can't be serious!" I shouted, my anger rising. "How could you do this to me? We aren't in the fucking middle ages!"

She glared at me, her ruby eyes narrowing dangerously. "Stop shouting. Who do you think you are?"

"Your son."

"And because you're my son, you will do what I tell you."

I sat there, seething as I just soaked up all the information. The unbelievable and undeniable infuriation made it hard for me to even think and see straight. This woman repulsed me. She honestly made me sick; I couldn't stand looking at her bitter face. Her expression showed no warmth and care of what a mother should have for her child.

"Her name is Aria," she continued. "She recently moved to a place called Waffle Town. I have a ship ready for you to depart there first thing in the morning."

Awesome.

"You'll have no trouble finding her. It's a relatively small place. I went to all the trouble to make sure you had a house ready for you once you get there, you should be grateful. I will be checking on you from time to time."

I hate my life. I really hate my life.

With large, overflowing suitcases in both hands, I stepped off the broad ship and onto a creaky and worn-out dock. Strong, icy winds clashed against my face and went right through my light clothes, sending frigid chills all over my body. My teeth immediately began chattering and I cursed myself for wearing such thin clothing.

It was snowing and pure white was blanketed everywhere I looked; there wasn't a single dull spot to be seen. Looking around slowly, all I saw were quant buildings and nothing but vast ocean.

Stranded on an island? Excellent.

I walked down the pier and came to a stop in front of a white, square building called "On the Hook". I knocked on the door shakily and an old man that looked like a sailor emerged. He was wearing the usual white with a cap with an old pipe hanging out of his mouth.

"Yes?" He said, eyeing me curiously from head to foot.

"I'm Julius."

"Oh! Yes, I heard about your arrival today. Welcome to Waffle Town, my name is Pascal."

"Um… Thanks. Can you tell me how to get to my house?"

Pascal rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm working right now, but there are plenty villagers that would be happy to help."

"…Okay."

He nodded and grinned. "Good luck!"

"Thanks."

I probably would have been nicer to him if I wasn't in such a foul mood. Tired, cold, and pissed off don't mix very well. The entire morning was just a living hell, and quite frankly, I didn't care if I came off as a prick. I could always make up for it later. I just had no desire to be a people person today.

I left On the Hook and headed down the road, looking around for anyone to help me with directions. I wasn't that good with maps and I was more of a visual learner.

Constantly looking around, all I saw was building after building. There weren't even any signs of footprints in the snow besides my own.

I groaned and came to a halt in front of a building titled "Sundae Inn". My arms were getting tired from carrying the heavy luggage and I wanted nothing more than to just take a rest. The snow was beginning to soak my clothing and it was beginning to stick uncomfortably to my skin.

I sighed heavily as I stared down at the ground, cursing myself for getting stuck on such a forsaken island. I've always wanted to spend my days on a small, dumb island with a wife I didn't even know. Simply paradise.

Hearing faint, feminine voices coming from behind me, I looked around at the source curiously and hopefully.

And there to the left were two girls – a short pink-haired one and a taller blue-haired one. The shorter one was resting her hands on her hips, seemingly mad at the other girl who was just standing there nervously; fidgeting. I watched the two of them in amusement, curious about what was going on.

I approached the two of them casually, plastering a smile on my face, trying to appear serene in the worst of circumstances. "Hello!"

The two of them then slowly turned to face me, and all I received was a look of irritation from the shorter girl and a nervous blush from the taller one. They, clearly, were polar opposites. The shorter girl had a pretty face but immediately had the air of "arrogance" and "snotty" surrounding her. And while I couldn't even see the other's girl face due to her bangs obscuring it from view, it was a no brainer that she had zero confidence.

"What?" The shorter girl snapped, brushing a wisp of hair away from her cheek.

I continued grinning. "I'm Julius."

"So?" She sneered, rolling her eyes.

I glared down at her, taken aback. "Is that how you people greet a new inhabitant?"

Right off the bat I knew her and I weren't going to be getting along anytime soon. This short, pink-haired, little snob was already crawling under my skin and I've known her for no more than an entire minute.

"L-Luna…" The quiet girl spoke up. "You should be nice…"

I then turned my cheek from Luna, staring at the quiet girl long and hard. She was fidgeting nervously, and very slowly and warily lifted her face up to meet eye-level. And the moment I was finally able to catch a glimpse of her hidden face, my heart skipped a frantic beat. My blood rushed fast up into my cold cheeks and the wave of intensity that I just had made my knees weak and jell-o like.

…

If there is a God, please let her be Aria. Please, oh please.

"I am nice, Candace!" Luna shot back defensively.

…Candace?

This is what I got for peeing all over the toilet seats at my mother's business building, wasn't it? Thanks a lot God.

Figures.

- - - - - End: Remember - - - - -

Aria = Angela. Capiche?

I have been waiting to write this story for so long lol. The idea's been fuming in my head for weeks now, and it's even better that there are hardly any Juli fics around. ],: I love the man. He deserves more lovin'.

I'm aware that Juli isn't a hardcore badass but ugh. It was just too hard to pass up. He'll become more in character as the story progresses.

Review loveys! I'd love to hear your feedback so far and any ideas that you have. :3

- Tara