I is back!

I'm going to try to actually finish this story unlike my others… it's a Luke/Angela/Chase story, it probably won't have too many chapters but hopefully I'll be satisfied with it. xD I don't really know which pairing I'll make either… they'll both find some love forever and ever!

Anyways… have fun reading! : )

The incessant taping of hard-edged fingernails annoyed her to no end. If there was one thing that annoyed her, it was unnecessary noises that people decided to create when inattentive.

"Would you mind stopping that?" she asked the strawberry blond boy in front of her, a frustrated tone adding edge to my tiny voice. The girl was sitting at the bar area of the Inn, where she had been staying for about a day since the fatal faint on the way to Waffle Island. At her outburst Chase spun around from tying the string of his apron around his waist with a smirk on his face. "And people tell me that I get angry easily," he teased. I just want to slap that smirk off his face, Angela thought, fuming. He finished tying the string into a knot and turned back to the kitchen. Said girl let out a puff of air and glared at his back. "You should be the one to talk," she retorted harshly, her jaw set in a fashion of frustration and big brown eyes fanned by long, dark lashes narrowed towards him. Stupid boy.

Angela could almost feel him raising his eyebrows, his back to her. Crossing her arms on the bar table, she let her head rest in strong, pale arms. After waking up around 10 yesterday – a typical waking time for the city girl turned country – she had met up with the mayor. To her dismay, he had told her to go around and introduce herself. When she finally got back to the Inn, after getting lost numerous times and shaking hands with several strangers, the time was 12:10, and to her horror, she then found out that it had closed ten minutes. She was tired of knocking 5 minutes in, and had given up at this point and stayed by the door, her chilly spine leaning on it's smooth, oak frame, when Chase had opened the door on his way out back to his house.

She truly wasn't a morning person, as the certain blond cook had blatantly guessed that morning. Perhaps it was her usual fiery attitude that happened to spark up more often than during the afternoon, or the way she talked less in her "just woke up" moments. Angela scratched at the back of her head and lifted it up just in time to smell the mouthwatering aroma of sizzling pancakes. Peering over Chase's shoulder, she watched as he expertly flipped them, showing off the golden-brown color of the finished side. She spied blueberries in a small, clear bowl to his left and grabbed one of them, popping it in her mouth. The taste was succulent on her hungry stomach, but not what she'd considered filling. "I am so hungry," she complained to the back of the chef, the scent of freshly made blueberry flapjacks wafting through her nostrils. Chase shot her an annoyed look and put a couple of the flat, round breakfast cakes on a plate before sliding it towards her along with a pitcher of maple syrup.

He was rather used to having early customers grumping to him, though not this early, and he had learned to block out the unwanted noise rather well in order to concentrate on his cooking. But this girl was different – he didn't like to block the harmonious call of her light murmur. A small smile playing on his lips, he placed the newest of the breakfast cakes onto a plate and turned the heat on the griddle off. The scent seemed to entice the young woman seated at the counter. He hoped her house got repaired quickly. What was her name? Ann? Alexandra? No, no… it was Angela. Personally, he didn't believe that anybody would fall for the brochure that Hamilton had sent out that his best friend, Gill, had told him about. Chase wiped the excess batter from the pancakes on his hands against his teal apron and turned his attention to washing the dishes.

Instead, he was interrupted by the ringing of a bell that informed him of a customer coming in. Angela turned her attention away from the delectable pancakes, expecting to see Mayor Hamilton (which she often thought of Hamilton from a TV show she watched as a kid when she said or thought his name) or Pascal, some soul to take her away from her peace and drag her around the island once more. To her surprise, the customer was not one of them, but instead a guy who looked around her age. He had blue hair and a young face, with cat-like golden eyes. His unruly blue hair was held back by a white bandana with red flames printed on it. He wore a red vest over a white t-shirt that had little sleeves over muscled, toned arms. A shark tooth tied around a red string adorned his neck, and knuckle gloves covered the knuckles on his two hands. She felt her cheeks get warm and she looked away. Though she would hopefully not say this out loud, the boy was pretty cute. The image of him was stuck behind her eyelids as she closed them in an attempt to calm her racing heart. It was to no avail, so eventually her chocolate brown eyes snapped open once more, trained on the stove that sat directly across from her.

While Chase just offered him a friendly nod and called for Kathy, Angela felt eyes boring into her back as she slid the emptied plate towards the sink. "I didn't know it was 9:30 yet," she mused with a slight frown. Her rude attitude was almost always better after she ate, and it wasn't everyday that she got a chef to cook for her.

Before either of them could say a word, Kathy had come out, and upon seeing the boy, greeted him, "Luke! What can I get for you?"

"Three spinach pancakes, of course! I come here often enough that you should know that, Kathers!" he shouted happily, wagging his finger in the air as if scolding the blonde waitress, who in turn rolled her eyes at his childishness. "I should've known," she said to humor him, mock disappoint laced around her usual accent. Without a word, Kathy relayed his order as 'the usual' to Chase.

Angela figured that he'd sit at the table by the window, or any other table. Instead, the blue-haired adolescent seated himself on the stool next to the one that she had regained. Once again, she felt as if someone was looking at her, and to her dismay, her cheeks tinged a light pink. "Stop… stop staring," she protested weakly, keeping her eyes averted from the one Kathy had addressed as Luke. From the corner of her eye, she noted that his golden-hued eyes had widened impressively. She let out a giggle, and the toothy grin returned the soft features of Luke's face. His eyes brightened at her compliance. "New girl! I don't think we've met yet, but you're the talk of the town!" he greeted, excited. She frowned, which confused him to no end. "I haven't met you yet? You don't look familiar, but I thought I had met everyone!" she inquired, looking worried.

"Nah, don't worry about it! I'm Luke! Have you met Bo or Pops yet?"

It was then that Kathy cut in. She glanced at Angela with an amused smile on her lips. "By Pops, he means Dale. You must've met him – he works as the carpenter along with Bo and Luke," she supplied.

Luke watched the young girl's features as understanding dawned on her face. A new best friend! He thought happily. The young carpenter glanced at Chase, who had been looking at her. What kind of look was that? He thought with a small laugh that was caged inside the outline of his mind before training his attention back on the new farmer. The news of her arrival had spread like an epidemic – word of the young girl had reached the town even before she stepped foot on the island.

A girl's voice shocked him out of his thoughts. "Shoot, I'm really sorry! I didn't know how many villagers there were, and you must've been the only one I missed, but I got home at midnight last night and was too exhausted to-"

Luke chuckled heartily, which intervened in her babbling and told her to stop talking. His left hand moved to scratch the back of his neck. "Don't worry about it, just you owe me lunch sometime!" laughed the boy. He opened his cat-like eyes when the smell of his pancakes that Chase had recently slid over to him hit him. Angela stared at them, a horrified expression on her face. "Are you… actually… going to eat them?" she asked stupidly, her chocolate brown eyes locked onto the steaming plate. Her face was already starting to look a little green and her nose wrinkled slightly at the thought of him consuming such an unsavory looking dish. The thought of it would've ruined her appetite had she not eaten before.

Golden eyes met darker brown eyes and the corners of his mouth curled up. "What else am I supposed to do with it? Spinach is the bomb! Want to share?" he queried with a grin that favored the soft contours of his face. Angela's nose scrunched up at the suggestion. "Er, no thanks, I just ate," she interjected fastidiously, making note to never give in to the invitation, and veered her eyes somewhere else. They managed to lock onto the door of the Inn, and she wondered how nobody could've heard her banging on it furiously late last night.

The Sundae Inn was a cozy place. Both the interior and exterior was made to look friendly and like a home. A couple flowers sat in sienna clay pots by the small doorstep that led to the wooden double doors of a two-story Inn. It's dark wooden floorboards contrasted against the cream and light brown wallpaper. Stripes and diamond suits prints adorned the wallpaper. A large table with a green tablecloth sat in the middle of the room.

However charming the Inn was, Angela couldn't wait to have her own house, even if it required farming expertise and more work. She took the offer to work a farm as an excuse to get away from a life of emptiness back in the city. Though her parents had always had trouble, the young rancher never expected this. There was a few too many drinks swallowed, and suddenly, the last time she saw her father. The doctor later diagnosed it as a deathblow to his liver. She was nearing her 18th birthday at the time, and it was a rough blow to her grades and her thoughts. As hard as her mother tried to fix the issue, it was an ongoing one, and there was only one conclusion: it was blatant that his death had caused it.

Her mother tried to get better, but her widowed state took over her life. There was little to no smiles at the dinner tables, only the clinking of her silverware scraping against the plate. Trips to fun places and long road trips and camping sessions were extinct in Angela's world now. During dinner, her only figure of authority would lock herself in their bedroom that she had once shared with her deceased husband and weep quietly. Hot tears flowing like waterfalls down pale gaunt cheeks, she would cry out in a broken voice the name of a lost lover.

Their family had always been coordinated and neat. Angela didn't remember a Sunday they didn't go to Church, or a dinner that they didn't give their thanks to the world above. Sunday mornings with family were now replaced with the still of silence and an unspoken agreement between mother and daughter.

Angela shut her eyes tightly, pushing the memory to the very back of her mind. She silently willed her moist eyes to not give in, to not start crying at that point. "I should probably head off, I'd like to explore," she told them with a slight gulp, trying to rid of the small lump that had formed in her throat. At the door she turned to Chase and Luke and waved at them before disappearing out the door.

That morning found her feet going places she wasn't aware of, moving without her consent. It all came out quickly – she wasn't about to bother keeping herself collected. As soon as the salty tears started to run freely, Angela found herself slumped against a nearly dead tree. Damp fingers ran through the tangled locks of her chestnut hair and watery pools formed on the rough fabric of her denim shorts. Her salty tears made stains where it touched her shirt.

Angela's dad's death hurt her beyond belief. The nineteen year old had been in her senior year of a small town's high school. It was never really her mother who had structured her relationship and love for her parents. Her mother was the brainwork, while the father spent time with her. Then tragedy struck. Grades started falling. There was more absent days in two weeks than she had ever been gone from school in her whole lifetime. Though she had been homeschooled into 2nd grade by her Mother, Angela's life link would always be her father. She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand and let out a strangled sob.

"Ange?"

It was one voice that made her freeze in her depressed state and not glance up. She was afraid of meeting his eyes.

"Angela?"

She would've had to be stupid to not recognize the voice of her rescuer. It dug holes into her heart and rubbed onion into her teary brown eyes. "No," she whispered, almost silent. "No!"

I was just watching Harvest Moon videos on YouTube and there was the AWL ending and I cried so hard. It was so depressing… what kind of people would end a game in that way?

Anyways… what do you think? The next chapter should come up within 2 or 3 days. Well, it depends if I'm feeling motivated. It was a bit of an emotional chapter here… towards the end, at least.

Sorry for any mistakes that might've been made – I'm typing this without ever playing Tree of Tranquility (I know what you're thinking… wut. Stalker status!)

If you guys have any suggestions, please tell me. My thinker's not too developed… In fact, this story doesn't have too much of a plot, I just started typing away. xD