Disclaimer: I lost Harvest Moon to Natsume over a game of poker, along with my lucky bra and pet chihuahua.
... I wish. XD
Author's notes: Just started playing AWL, and just felt like drabbling. Turned out okay-ish for something done under ten minutes. Constructive criticism welcomed.
Oh, yes. You know the farmboy you get to control in the game? In the file where I married Nami, I called him Kyohei.
I couldn't bear to leave the quiet Forget-Me-Not Valley.
But it had to be done; I have stayed two seasons longer than I'd originally expected to. My money's running low as well. Tim and Ruby have told me that I could stay for free, but I'd just feel guilty to be boarding at no cost.
And, despite my vehement denials, I have actually made some very good friends here. Rock is good company; despite being a tad air headed and just a touch egoistic. Gustafa isn't half bad, his guitar makes sitting near the Goddess Spring even better. Tim and Ruby think of me as the daughter they'd never had, and I see them as my mother and father more so than my own biological parents.
And Kyohei, the late farmer's son, is a good man, even if he is a little quiet and eager to please. To be honest, he reminds me of a puppy. Come rain or shine, he always appears at my door at the Inner Inn no later than 9.10 in the morning, with either his archaeological finds or Trick Blues clutched in his gloved fingers, a hopeful expression on his face, his chocolate eyes wide, making him resemble the animal he reminds me of.
Lately, seeing that look on his face makes me smile. It's a nice thing to look at the first thing in the morning.
I sigh, shifting a little in my seat on the windowsill. He should know by now that I like anything he brings me, especially since he's already caught on to the things I like.
How'd he find out, anyway? Pondering this, I stare out at the winter raindrops pattering in my window, casting a glance at the clock on the wall. 8.57 am. He should be along any moment.
Another sigh crosses my lips as I uncurl myself from the ledge. I'll leave on the first day of Spring. I've lingered too long in this sleepy Valley.
Tomorrow, I leave. I begin to pack, shoving my scant belongings into the bag I'd placed at the foot of the bed. Today's gift is the last I'll ever receive from him.
A tentative knock on my door rouses me from my reverie. I get up and open it, expecting to see a bunch of Trick Blues clutched in the farmboy's fist. He's taken to giving me five or more tied into an impromptu bouquet this past week.
The Blue Feather cupped in his hands throws me off.
I stare at the object in his palms for a moment, before throwing my arms around his neck and sobbing out a tearful "yes," into his turtleneck.