"Welcome to the Brass Bar. We're currently not open, but even if we were, there isn't much diff— oh, it's you. Again."
Molly simply offered her most simpering smile. "Hello Chase! You look well."
Chase sighed dramatically, while casually pinning his unkempt hair back. "Don't you have, like, farm things to do?"
"No, but cleaning up cow manure is, under usual circumstances, an incredibly time-consuming job."
"Judging from my highly developed olfactory senses, that is very believable."
While their mindless sarcastic exchange was taking place, Molly had already seated herself comfortably in the high chair. She yawned— not too subtly, placing her right cheek on her palm, propping herself up with her elbow. She watched, eyes glazed, as Chase chopped away at something that smelled really earthy. The steady rhythm of his experienced chopping against the chopping board was threatening to lull her into a deep slumber, yet in a strange way, it calmed her frittered nerves.
She looked at Chase's strawberry blond hair, and noted how each strand was a different shade of blond, depending on how it caught the sunlight. She noted the three nondescript black bobby pins that were hastily shoved back, and how they weren't placed parallel to each other. She thought that rather comical, but kind of… endearing.
She was just trying to look for any specks of dirt on his impeccably taken care of apron when Chase turned around, startling her with his wide, violet eyes. He held a cup of herbal tea, which he plunked unceremoniously on the bar top.
"There."
"How much?"
"On the house. Don't work too hard, or one day you will have to pay, and Goddess knows how much that would strain your meager earnings. And if you collapse, well… you had it coming."
Molly cradled the cup, and smiled discreetly to herself.
He says that all the time.
.~.~.~.
The circumstances of their meeting were very strange.
Molly was walking around her new town, all of her high hopes quickly fading away with each gloomy villager met. Her doe eyes, so filled with thrilled trepidation just hours ago, have been fast replaced with jaded disappointment. The town was beautiful, the scenery was beautiful, her house was in a sorry state, but nothing beat its beautiful backdrop of the sapphire ocean and the emerald grass. Too bad the people were in a pretty sorry state too, and nothing could compensate for that.
Her tired feet found her in what appeared to be a church. It was completely deserted. Go figure. You don't really think of a faithful and spiritual group of people, when all of them are telling you that their land is screwed beyond redemption, right?
Molly spotted a bunch of stray animals (of which were all over the island, which is… sad), and immediately turned her attention to this cute beagle hanging around to the left. It sat on its hind legs, looking out despondently to the vacant church ground. She too despondently surveyed the mockingly beautiful landscape from her vantage point, when she suddenly noticed another stray to her direct left.
Well, the stray was a guy. But he did look like a stray, even from a profile view. He pondered the beautiful ocean, eyes as lost as that cute little beagle over there.
Wait, what?
Molly shook her head, and decided to introduce herself. She approached the stray—uh, the dude, and cleared her throat.
The lost guy made no response. Molly suddenly realised that she doesn't have anything to say.
"Uh… this town's beautiful, isn't it?" She so suavely said.
The guy made a strange noise in the back of his throat. Kinda like a cross between a choke and a scoff and a "You've gotta be freaking kidding me."
Silence ensued. Molly's eyes darted around.
"Penny for your thoughts?" She asked, half-expectantly.
The guy finally smirked. Well, it looked like a grimace too.
"Trust me, if you hear them, you may probably decide to move back to wherever you came from."
Molly's eyes clouded over, and she sighed lightly. "Believe me, I already am in deep consideration." She murmured.
This seemed to surprise him, and he turned fully to face Molly. She glanced at his face, meeting a delicate, pale face, a delicately sculpted nose, and a pair of delicate, wide, purple eyes. She quickly looked away. There is no way she can coolly hold the gaze of someone so attractive.
Molly still felt eyes on her, and she shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, I'm from the city, so call me a wuss but—"
"You aren't. This place is a dump. Why'd you come?"
"Change of scenery."
"Knock yourself out. My name's Chase. "
"I'm Molly."
"See you around then."
And Molly was left standing bewildered, feeling as lost as the cute beagle hanging around over to the left.
.~.~.~.
Well, so she lied.
Who does move for a 'change in scenery'?
But it's a long story, and she didn't think that a lost puppy-man would bother with that much detail.
To put it simply, nobody cares in a city. People walk by, they go to work, they go home, emptily promise going for their kid's softball match, and then they sleep. Restlessly. And then the cycle repeats.
Someone gets mugged, everyone shrugs it off. Work harder and buy a better phone then.
Someone gets assaulted, everyone looks around expectantly, before shrugging and moving off. The bystander effect, that's what it's called.
Someone gets kicked out into the streets, everyone says that it is their own fault for failing. The city gives everyone equal opportunities, not equal outcomes. They shrug and go about winning.
Seriously, what happened to good old-fashioned values where the husband comes in with a "Honey, I'm home!" and the wife greets him with a kiss and a hot dinner, while she gets the kids from the neighbour's house? It all died with the birth of apartments and career ladders and… Molly had to leave, to return to what she had when she was a child; back to before she took that dumb scholarship.
But you see, when you breathe, the city… breathes with you. You know despite the selfishness, in a really strange way, everyone is winning together, everyone is making their dreams come true together, and that is what makes the city. The city welcomes everyone with no qualms. It is a home to everyone willing to make it their home.
But anyway Molly favoured the concept of 'communal good'. She wanted a nice tight-knit community where everyone's your neighbour, and nobody locks their doors at night, just like that she had when she was a little girl. That's why she came to Harmonica Town.
"Oh my Goddess, I think I may shit daisies and rainbows from all that idealism." Chase moaned.
Molly glared.
"So why did you move back here then?" She said, a touch too defensive.
"I told you like a million times, it's to be a better cook." Chase said tiredly. He finished stirring the martini, and slid it to Molly.
Molly sipped appreciatively, but glared at him with hard eyes.
They glared back and forth for a bit, before something in Chase finally gave away. "… Fine, what you said. A little bit, I guess. Happy now?"
Molly was genuinely surprised. And a little happy.
.~.~.~.
Molly thumped against the door.
"Chase! Open up!"
Silence.
She started to bash at the door. Patience was never a quality she possessed. Even in a village with no commitments or attachments, Molly still preferred moving fast. Time waits for nobody, right?
She stopped because her fist was starting to feel sore. Molly clucked her tongue in annoyance, and planted one hand on her hip, while the other hand held a jar tenderly. She glanced around, noting the neat flowerbeds, and the quaint little windows and roof. This choice of décor was certainly unlike Chase's brusqueness, but then again, a lot of things was against that. Like his eyes, for example. How could someone so blunt have such wide and innocent eyes? And such doll-like features—
The door flung open, revealing Chase, whom looked like he just rolled off the bed.
… Half-naked.
Molly immediately squealed, dropped whatever she was holding and clapped her hands over her eyes.
"Who do you think you are, The Situation? We aren't on Jersey Shore; put on some damn clothes!"
"… What? Oh, it's you."
Molly felt the warmth rapidly spreading from underneath her hands, and she sensed no movement on Chase's part to protect her modesty.
Moments passed.
"Have you put something on yet?" Molly asked, despite knowing that at this moment, the idiot was probably smirking his stupid smirk at her.
"We're not on Jersey Shore, but this is my house, so I decide what to wear," Chase obnoxiously replied. "… Or what not to wear."
Molly felt her shoulders slump. Damn idiot was doing this on purpose! She removed her hands, and kept her eyes strictly focused on her scuffed boots.
She bent down in front of Chase, feeling her shirt dip slightly with that movement, to pick up the jar.
"Here. It's marmalade, from the orange tree you pestered me to grow." She shoved the jar to Chase's slack hands, glancing up very quickly to see that his face was as beet red as hers was. She was too preoccupied with the fact that she accidentally caught a glance of his lean chest, to wonder why.
"Uh… th-thanks." He sputtered.
"Don't mention it."
Molly turned and walked off as quickly as Chase slammed the door shut.
.~.~.~.
"Where's your family?" Molly had asked, very suddenly.
Chase jerked, and halted tenderising the meat for a split second. He immediately returned to that, though with slightly more vigour.
"Dead."
Molly retaliated, slightly alarmed. "… Oh."
Chase paused to look at her, almost expecting her to say something more, and Molly looked at him back questioningly. "… What?" She asked.
"I'm quite surprised; you're the first one that didn't say sorry." Chase replied slowly.
"Why should I, I didn't kill them, did—" Molly blurted out, before quickly stopping herself. "Uh… I mean… well—"
"Save it." Chase said, hiding a smirk. He paused, before he added, almost cautiously, "I was just a little kid. Spent most of my life living with my aunt, who was a total bitch. I moved to the city and then picked up cooking. Then I came here—"
"To study cooking as an understudy of Master Yolanda." Molly cut in.
"I think I've been telling you too much."
"But you must reciprocate!"
"If that's the case I'd have to tell you my entire life story," Chase snorted.
Molly blushed. She would've liked that.
.~.~.~.
"We've gotta save the Harvest Goddess! Mollyyyy! The mine's this way, where are you going? MOLLLYYYYYY!"
"Does Dr Jin have any experience in psychology? I think I need to be checked for schizophrenia," Molly muttered to herself, feeling incredibly spooked.
So this orb of light just flies straight to her, and starts crying really loudly, then, by God, she actually follows it to a pond where this huge glittery apparition of sorts starts telling her that she needs to save some tree so that the island will thrive and everyone will be happy, and in order to do that, she needs to ring, like, bells or something, and…
"Wait. Why me?" Molly cut across the… er, what was it? Oh yes, Harvest Goddess.
She smiled celestially at Molly, glimmering radiantly despite something about her powers being weathered down by the people's abuse of the land and all that jazz.
"Why Molly, it's because you are pure at heart."
Molly briefly recalled that there were tins of discarded paint lying about her dilapidated house. Maybe she's been high on the fumes.
"MOLLYYYY! Don't ignore meeee!"
"Look Finn, if you keep quiet, my head will clear, which means that I'd be closer to saving the Corn Godde—"
"HARVEST GODDESS!"
"Same difference. So just… don't say anything, okay?"
Finn shut his mouth and looked at her with baleful eyes. She ignored him.
Strangely, Molly found herself at the entrance of the Brass Bar. She shrugged. Why not, alcohol goes hand in hand with drugs, right? Maybe if she'd get hammered enough, she'd do something really stupid that would cause the Wheat Goddess to quickly ditch her, and to find someone more 'pure at heart' to do the dirty work.
But then again… Molly sighed. The town was in pretty bad shape. And if she was chosen, why not, right? Cool stuff like saving towns from self-destruction would be a pretty good activity to be immersed in rather than clearing cow manure. And if she heard another word from a villager about how doomsday is approaching because the annual crop yield of yam has dropped by 45% , she may just self-destruct.
"Hey, who peed in your cornflakes, hmm?" Chase inquired, turning from his work station to look at Molly, seating herself in the high chair.
"It's actually the sight of you," Molly replied glumly.
"Okay, something is definitely up, that was a terrible comeback."
Molly contemplated. "Have you heard of the Harvest Goddess?"
"Of course. She's all the village idiots talk about."
Kathy, who happened to be walking by, glared. Chase challenged her glare evenly, before Kathy put her nose up in the air and stalked off.
Chase moved towards Molly, and continued. "I mean, it's all the Harvest Goddess has forsaken us, the Harvest Goddess tree is dying, we have challenged the Harvest Goddess, and all that happy cheerful stuff. Why'd you ask?"
Molly wringed her hands underneath the bar top. "… You know, that's all kinda right."
"What are you saying?"
"I mean, hypothetically—what if we are driving her away?"
Chase immediately scoffed, which caused Molly to painfully cringe. "Hypothetically, of course. Does she even exist, in hypothesis? Hypothetically, how are you going to save her?"
"I mean, no, but it could start with us—"
"What could start with us? You want me to move out of civilisation, go up the mountain, live under a rock, to be one with nature? Seriously Molly, I thought you're different, but you're sounding like all of them. Some things just can't be redeemed!" Chase's eyes were unforgiving, and his normally easygoing face was filled with bitter cynicism.
"No, you douchebag! Let me finish!" Molly barked. Chase was startled out of his angry tirade.
That's when Molly realised she didn't really have anything else to add. Or to finish.
She sighed, and without really planning to, asked, "Hey, do you care about anything other than cooking? Or yourself, really?"
Chase was visibly taken aback. So was Molly, seeing that the question just slipped out of her mouth. Chase tightened his slackened jaw, and he looked deep in thought. Molly dreaded his answer as much as she regretted asking that. While their conversations never were too deep, she thought of him as a decent person, with a good sense of humour to boot, and of course, charmingly good looks. Why oh why did she have to screw this up with that kind of question?
Chase opened his mouth, snapping Molly from her reverie, making her anticipate, with bated breath, whatever he had to say.
"… Meh," Chase shrugged. He walked back to his working station, leaving Molly as confounded—and depressed, as the beagle that hangs around the church.
And I'm going to leave it at here, for now.
I'm trying to figure out whether all these anecdotes happen in chronological order, though honestly… it doesn't really make a difference. But Molly and Chase's relationship is kinda developing along the way, so take it that it's all happening chronologically then.
And as for the personalities… I hope I did it alright! Especially for Molly, because… I know this is entirely up to the author, but I keep thinking she's a sweet girl that's willing to help everyone out, yet I turned her into this dry and quick-witted anomaly! I guess my reasoning is that running a farm single-handedly is a toughass job (it's so tough it doesn't even exist in reality, lol) and I just can't see a sweet pleasant girl choosing to do it. But under the tough exterior Molly really is an idealist, I guess, because if you actually moved from the city to become, of all things, a farmer… I don't think anyone from the city would do that. And as for Chase, it struck me that he can be awfully sentimental in AP, which is strange since so many people portray him as a guido-certified douchebag. So I thought I'd play down the douchebagginess.
Alright enough with the analyses. I can't say I'm too proud of this fic (it's my 1st HM fic in a long time!) That's why I'm cutting it in half for now to see what you guys think! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!