This is for floridapanther28's Facial Features contest. I got assigned ears. Sorry this is kind of depressing, but I couldn't resist. And I know you're going to hate me, flp, for using Gustafa, but...it came to me, and I had to use it! x)

~Enjoy~

All You Need Is Love

No, he thought. This can't be happening… Not so soon… Music is my life, my soul, my being… and now it's gone.

He sat next to the waterfall, leaning against the big oak tree that flourished next to the river. The small guitar in his hands was emitting beautiful melodies, his gentle fingers stroking and picking the strings to the tune of his favorite Beatles tune – All You Need Is Love. The song made him feel understood, and it got his mind off all his problems; always being the "weird hippie", the loser, the outsider, his loneliness, and his illness.

He could play his guitar all day, every day, if he chose to. It was his outlet. The lyrics of his favorite songs spoke to him – from the lighthearted encouragement and reassurance that All You Need Is Love offers, to the deep yet optimistic nature of Imagine by John Lennon.

He didn't have very many friends. The only true friends he had were Nami, the mysterious traveler, Muffy, the flirty ex-secretary, and Griffin, the quiet bartender. Everyone else stared, sneered behind his back, or made fun of him right to his face. Because of his limited association, he turned to music to keep him company.

But two things changed his life forever; the arrival of someone very special, and the disappearance of the very thing holding him together at the seams.

It all started when she moved in to town. He was unaware of her presence - until the day she introduced herself. She had been in the Valley for over a week before he knew about her.

He was playing a song he wrote on his guitar when two brown shoes stopped in front of him, causing him to stop playing. His eyes went from the shoes to a pair of light blue jeans, to a forest green half-apron tied around the figure's waist, then to a white shirt with orange sleeves, and finally, a girl's face.

"Hi! I'm Jill," the girl spoke, holding her hand out for him to take.

Great, he thought, just someone else to make fun of me.

But he couldn't be rude – he was such a polite man. "Peace, Sister. I'm Gustafa. What brings you here?"

"I'm the new farmer here! My dad used to own that farm riiiight over there." Jill squinted one of her violet eyes, scrunched her nose, and pointed behind Gustafa and towards the farm entrance. "But he died a long time ago. I grew up always wanting to run a farm, so when I finally got old enough to live on my own, I decided to take over his old farm!"

Gustafa was impressed by her optimism and enthusiasm, given her circumstances.

"That's great, Jill! If you need help with anything, I'll do my best to help you," he said.

"That's so sweet of you! I gotta go now, but maybe we could chat later!"

"Sounds good to me!"

Jill began to walk away, but then stopped and turned around after a few paces. "Oh! And you're really good at guitar. Keep it up!"

"Thanks, I will! Keep it groovy!"

She laughed and continued walking.

"As long as I can, at least," he grumbled under his breath.

Little did he know, that young farmer would soon become a best friend to him. Jill visited Gustafa daily, bringing him crops from her farm, a simple dish for dinner, a flower, and sometimes even a record to listen to. He decided to thank her with a song that he'd written – but he would only reveal it in parts.

Gustafa went from masking his sadness to being genuinely happy. When he was with Jill, he forgot about being mostly alone, being the freak of the town, and being ill – he lived for the moment, just like he always wanted to. No worries, no sadness, no grief; just happiness.

Jill soon entrusted Gustafa with her greatest secrets, and his to her. One day in particular stuck out in Gustafa's mind; the day she told him about her past.

"So, do you wanna hear about my past? Jill asked out of the blue, stopping her farm work, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She was panting slightly, and sweat made her face and neck shine in the sun. Jill squinted her eyes in the sun as she looked over to Gustafa, who was watering a tomato plant.

Gustafa kicked a little bit of dirt. "…Only if you're comfortable telling, me, Sister," he replied awkwardly.

Seemingly satisfied, she dropped her hoe and gestured for Gustafa to follow her as she walked towards her farmhouse. "I am. Let's go inside and take a break, and I'll tell you over lemonade."

He gently set down the heavy watering can, careful not to break it or harm the plants, and then followed her. Gustafa watched Jill walk ahead of him – she was full of energy with a spring in her step, but not hyper by any means. Her walk was almost optimistic in itself, and reflected how much she loved her life. Her brown ponytails swished from left to right with each step, perfectly in rhythm with her steps.

Step, swish, step, swish, step, swish.

When they got inside, Gustafa sat at Jill's wooden table in the middle of her one-roomed log cabin. The floors were wood, the walls were wood, the ceilings were wood…everything was wood. It wasn't your typical wood walls or hardwood floors, however – it looked like old, large logs were split and cemented together somehow.

Jill had a small bookshelf on the far right wall, a small, white bookcase, a window above the bookcase, and a calendar between the bookcase and dresser. Then, on the back wall was a teeny-tiny kitchenette with a sink and one burner with a frying pan on it. Next to that was a small trash can, a really old TV, and a side table with an alarm clock and a diary on it. A wooden bed rested on the far left wall, right next to the side table. The only thing left was a record player and a window – Gustafa was kind of surprised at what a simple life Jill lived.

His thoughts were interrupted by a pillow hitting the side of his face. Gustafa jolted into reality and jerked his head over to find the source of the pillow, which was a smirking Jill. "I don't have any table pillows right now, so just sit on that," she said, turning to the kitchenette. She squatted down and grabbed two glasses out of the lower cabinet, walked over, set them down on the table, and then said, "I'll be right back. I lack a refrigerator inside, so I have to go out to a separate building and use this giant freezer-slash-refrigerator." She then walked out the door and returned a few minutes later with a pitcher of lemonade and an ice tray.

Jill sat down in front of the table, across from Gustafa, and began pouring their drinks. "So. I'll start with my parents' divorce. Long story short, my dad was an alcoholic, my mom was sick of it, he wouldn't get help, he got violent, and she kicked him out. Mom found out she was pregnant with me the next day, and called Dad into her third trimester. He said he didn't care, and that we weren't important to him. So when their divorce was finalized, she cut off all contact with him."

Gustafa was shocked at her dark past – and this was all before she was born!

She continued, "Mom raised me as a single parent until I was four. My dad turned out to work at the day care center I went at while Mom worked. When he found out that I was his daughter, he called Mom and pleaded to get to know me, saying I was the cutest little girl he ever saw and that he was sorry he ever left. After a lot of deliberation, my mom had my dad over for dinner each Sunday night so he could get to know me slowly and safely. After a year, it was as if he had been with us from the start. I loved him like he had never left, since I didn't really understand everything."

Jill paused to take a sip from her lemonade glass, and then resumed.

"When I was six, Dad moved here and started a farm. I visited for one week once a month until I was eighteen – then I moved out of my mom's house and got a job as a legal secretary. I visited Dad once a month, but only for a weekend at a time."

She paused once again, her eyes filling with tears. Gustafa's heart dropped as he saw the girl he very much cared for on the verge of tears. He gently put his hand on hers as he said, "Sister, you don't need to keep going if it's going to upset you."

Jill sniffled quickly and wiped away the single tear that managed to trickle down her cheekbone. "No, no, it's okay. I want to tell you." After another momentary pause, she continued. "He died of pancreatic cancer six months ago. I'd always had a knack for farming, and I loved it, too. So I decided to take over this farm. And you know the rest."

The way Jill just opened up to Gustafa totally floored him. Though he didn't really show it on his face, he was truly in shock.

"Jill… I'm so sorry about your father. Know that I'm always here for you if you need a hearing ear."

A hearing ear…

Jill smiled. "Thanks, Gustafa." She wiped away the few spare tears that had spilled over her eyes and chuckled lightly. "Sorry for all the depressing stuff. I tend to ramble on about myself and depressing things if I get in a certain mood. You know, you're so quiet… You're a really good listener, Gustafa." She patted his hand and smiled warmly.

I have to tell her.

"Sister, can I tell you something? I mean no disrespect to your father by changing the subject, but… it's pretty important.

"No, it's not disrespectful, I changed the subject first. Go ahead. I'm all ears."

Here goes…

"Jill…I…I'm going deaf."

Her face fell. "W-what?" Jill realized how that could sound and quickly corrected herself. "No! That's not what I meant! I mean… I… Uh…"

Gustafa laughed. "Sister, don't worry about it! I know you didn't mean anything by it."

"Oh, good!" Jill breathed a sigh of relief, and then felt compelled to ask a question. She was worried about the carefree hippie sitting right before her. "But…Gustafa, why? How? When…?"

"I have a disease. It deteriorates my hearing slowly – but one day I'll be completely deaf. I don't know when. Doctors don't know when. I don't really believe in taking medicine, so I just eat things to help improve my hearing. I drink lots of tea. It's aromatherapeutic. Lavender is nice. So is mint. But it's not a big deal; I've come to terms with it." Gustafa laughed at himself in disgust inwardly. No you haven't. What happens when you lose music? Or what about the sounds of nature?

Or the sound of Jill's voice?

Her laugh?

The way she says your name?

His inner voices continued taunting him until Jill said something. "But… it's not fair!" Her eyes were brimming with tears once again.

Gustafa shrugged. "It's life." He gently rested his hand on Jill's. "Please don't cry. I didn't mean to upset you. Not a lot of people know. I felt you should know, since…"

I love you.

But he couldn't say that. Who could love a deaf hippie? Who would want to love a deaf hippie; always the loser, the outsider, the freak?

"Since…" He scrambled for a cover. "Since we've become such good friends."

Jill smiled sympathetically, her heart aching for her friend. What he didn't know was that she was in love with him, too. It pained her to know that he would soon lose his hearing. Without his hearing, he wouldn't be able to hear the gurgling stream that ran past his yurt as he played sweet melodies on his little guitar. He wouldn't be able to hear the lighthearted chirps of songbirds, fleeting from tree to tree, flying free above their world. What about his favorite records? How would he listen to his favorite songs now? Aubrey, All You Need Is Love, Imagine, and Daydream Believer were his top four – he couldn't go a day without hearing them.

Thoughts raced through Jill's head. This isn't fair! Why Gustafa, of all people? He's so caring and kind and easy-going… Why? What can I do to help? Can I convince him to try some treatments? Maybe if they're natural, he'll consider them! I'll contact Doctor Hardy and Doctor Trent and Doctor Alex and Doctor Jin… Maybe they'll have something for him! They have to! He can't go deaf… He just can't!

"Sister? Are you all right?"

Jill looked up and noticed Gustafa had taken his purple Windsor glasses off. His eyes were so soft. So pure. So clean. He'll rely on them completely after he goes deaf.

"Sister?"

She snapped out of her thoughts long enough to answer him. "O-oh; sorry, I didn't realize… I was just thinking…"

He chuckled. "It's okay. I'm sorry I sprung it on you like this," he said before taking a sip of the lemonade Jill had prepared.

"No, don't apologize! I would have found out anyway…"

Silence filled the room. It wasn't awkward in the least. The two were fine just sitting there, in silence. It didn't bother them at all.

Is this what it will be like when he goes deaf? Jill wondered. I know what I'll do to make it all easier…

And then she got up from her seat, startling Gustafa. Without a word, she went over to her record player and put on Aubrey by Bread. It was a song that calmed both of them in their times of distress. When she returned to her seat, they remained silent. The music spoke volumes that words could not. It was something they could share, something unscathed by the outside world, with all its horrors, diseases, crimes, and faults.

But only for a short while.

Gustafa awoke to the refreshing scent of eucalyptus spearmint, as he did every morning. He loved to wake up to incense every day. It was the perfect way to start the day. Still drowsy, he reached over and started his record player to help him wake up.

But he heard nothing.

Is it broken? He wondered.

He sat up and noticed the sound of songbirds was gone. The stream running by his yurt was seemingly mute. He didn't even hear the wind blow.

And he knew what all this meant.

It's really happened…

At first he was calm. He was prepared for this –he knew it was coming. He learned sign language years ago, and was ready to put it into practice. But he didn't realize it was so soon. When it really hit him, he went into denial.

No, he thought. This can't be happening… Not so soon… Music is my life, my soul, my being… and now it's gone.

Gustafa wouldn't leave his yurt for days. He assumed he had no visitors, but how would he know? He couldn't hear them if they knocked on the door. Honestly, he really didn't care. He just sat in his yurt all day in his pajamas, crying to himself.

Who else do I have to cry to? He thought.

He went by seemingly unnoticed for what felt to him like months, but was actually a few days. But Gustafa lingered in the mind of one particular villager, who was determined to help him.

One day, she knocked on his front door. When no one answered, she let herself in. She didn't care if Gustafa got upset with her – she had to know he was okay. But she knew what had happened. He wouldn't just disappear like this without an explanation.

When she peeked past the door, her heart broke in to a million shards. There was Gustafa, holding his little guitar that he carried everywhere. He sat on his bed, just gazing at the beautiful instrument, wishing he could play it and hear it, but deciding it was pointless.

Gustafa looked up and saw Jill standing there, and he was immediately embarrassed. He wanted to turn her away – he didn't know what to say or how he would say it. He certainly wouldn't talk, he didn't want to sound awful!

But then she made her hands dance in the air; they danced to choreography that Jill created. It was a routine he knew immediately.

It said, How are you?

She learned sign language for him. Jill learned sign language for the lonely hippie. The loser, the freak, the outcast. Why him of all people?

Jill mustered up all her courage to make her hands dance in the air again, to choreography that would change both of their lives forever.

I love you.

He stood there, motionless. She loved him. Jill returned the feelings that he had for her for such a long time.

And then it hit him. He didn't need music, or the sounds of nature, or the sound of anyone's voice to live a full and wonderful and beautiful life.

He realized that all you need is love.

So, did you like it? I'd love your honest opinion and constructive criticism.

Thanks to gimmeabreakxD for introducing me to the amazing song Aubrey by Bread. Seriously, go check it out.

Thanks for reading!