Title: Budding Actress

Summary: Asking someone, "How long does it take to fall in love?" is like asking, "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop?" But when it comes to losing any hope of that love ever being fulfilled, it's less than a minute. Anncentric.

Disclaimer: Harvest Moon belongs to Natsume. Even if I were to change my name to Natsume, which would be weird, it still wouldn't belong to me.

"The wedding's on Friday."

I freeze. The muscles in my hands spasm, and the pitcher clasped between them, freezing the skin in a manner I've grown accustomed to, threatens to clatter to the floor, leaving a mess I know I would be the one to clean up. A shatter of glass. A splash of water. A skitter of ice cubes across the floor. Everyone would be so shocked. I never mess up like that. I never drop things. That never is an absolute I prove true as I gently put the pitcher down on the little bar that runs along the wall, where Dad and I put the containers we know we need but aren't currently using.

I turn around slowly. My eyes search the bar for the speaker. Rick and Karen and Claire… they're all looking at her, with her hands on her hips and that grin on her face because she knows she's accomplished something just by saying that, because she's proven to her brother that she's mature enough not to run away with the summer sailor who's hiding upstairs, probably because of the news she's delivering now.

"It's going to be absolutely wonderful!" she gushes, and a long list of adjectives I would never use, followed by strings of details I would never consider, and the repetitive sound of her giggling escape her mouth.

We all know who the lucky man is. They've been holding hands for over a season now, whenever they're together, and she goes to his farm more than anywhere else. I shouldn't know that, and in the past two weeks I've stayed away from that. I've become my dad, hiding away in my little kingdom where I know there will be no pain.

"And Ann, you won't mind if the reception is here, do you? It'd be just perfect! There's so much space, and no sand to get into shoes like at the beach—even though we'll have the wedding there. Besides, Kai says there won't be enough room at the Snack Shack for the reception, and there's enough room here for the whole villager and a dance floor, right?"

There's more, but I've zoned out.

I spoke too soon.

There will be pain in my kingdom, because I know I can't say no, not the way she's looking at me, not the way there's pity in Claire's eyes, pity I hate to see.

I want to pound someone's face in. Instead, I play actress, and I smile at her, and nod, and ask if she wants more to drink.

And I ignore as someone takes a spoon and stabs it deep into my heart.

Cleaning makes me feel good. It does. It always has.

When I'm happy, it gives me that sense of accomplishment, that I've completed a project that's good for everyone. When I'm tired, I can look forward to my bath. When I feel useless, I know it makes the lives of the people who live and visit here—namely Cliff, Gray, Kai, and my dad—more pleasant.

When I'm angry, I can beat at the floor and no one will give a shit that I'm "making a mess" because I'm actually making one go away. No one ever notices when I'm mad. At least, they're not supposed to.

"Ann?"

I run the back of my forearm across my forehead and look up, sitting back on my haunches. "What?" Watch it. Don't snap. They'll know something's wrong if you snap.

"You look like you're trying to clean a hole in the floor." Cliff doesn't look like he means anything by it, like it's his way of asking if something's wrong. Shy guy that he is, it's a surprise. But then, I'm probably one of the only people he talks to. Why can't he talk to someone else?

Cuz no one else cleans his room and looks like they're trying to clean a hole in the floor, that's why.

"So?" I need to watch the snapping before it gets out of hand.

"Do… do you want to talk about it?" He looks like he's afraid I'll bite his head off, like the schoolgirl in the manga Claire's always showing me, who just told a guy she likes him and is being torn down brick by fucking brick.

I can't snap at him anymore. I give a sharp yank on my braid and shake my head. "There's nothing to talk about, Cliff."

He doesn't believe me, but he knows better than to push. He doesn't want to see me actually pissed off any more than I want to be pissed off. He leaves me to my cleaning.

When I'm done, there's no hole in the floor.

Plop!

I growl at the little rock as it lands in the water and sinks. Hook. Line. Sinker.

Not.

I didn't fall that easily. Not as easily as Elli did, but I didn't come out of it nearly as easily either. She doesn't give a shit that he's marrying that stupid bubblegum-headed little chicken shit.

Funny, but I sorta used to be friends with Popuri.

I don't really know why I'm here. I half-expected her to show up, drop by like we both used to do, to watch the water and listen to the birds and enjoy the general fucking scenery.

I throw another rock, but with more energy. It hits the wall alongside the waterfall and falls right in.

She hasn't come here in 13 days. She hasn't come here with me since it's been serious with him. At first, I wanted her to. I wanted her to come here and talk about him and tell me it wasn't serious. But she didn't. She stayed away. Stayed with him.

That showed me just how serious she was about him. How serious she still is about him.

I want to stick my head under and not come back up for air, but I know that's too damned extreme. I'm playing drama queen, except the only theater I'm in is my head. I think I'm pretty good at the acting part. At least, no one's mentioned anything to me except Cliff. Cliff. Shyer than Bigfoot Cliff, couldn't hurt a fly if he wanted to Cliff.

It's kinda sweet that he asked about it, I guess, but if I get into the soft mushy stuff, I'll cry, and I will not cry.

I haven't cried since my mom's funeral. Funny how that works, isn't it?

I flop back and stare at the sky. The sun is blinding. Harsh. Evil. As evil as a certain little chicken farmer…

"Ann, what are you doing here? You're missing the wedding."

Scratch that. Yeah, I do want to dunk my head into the Goddess Pond and not come up for air.

"I wasn't invited," I grouch, rolling over to stare at the water.

"Everyone was invited," he says.

I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood. I spit it onto the ground and fold my arms under my chin. "I uninvited myself."

"Oh."

There's silence for the moment. Not even the birds or the wind say anything, like they know it's not okay. Like they know that if they sound the slightest bit pitying or cheerful, I'll want to hurt them.

"May I join you?"

"Whatever floats your boat." It's not like I can make the guy do what I want him to do. If I had that kind of power, Popuri wouldn't be marrying him today.

Again, there's silence for a moment. I can hear him breathing as I stare at the water rippling slightly. A single leaf floats a little ways ahead of my, curled just so it looks like a tiny boat. I wish I could jump in just row away.

And then it strikes me.

"Why aren't you at the wedding?" I ask, looking over at him.

He's sitting cross-legged, head bowed, playing with a lone flower poking through the grass at the edge of the bank. He looks at me suddenly, and I can see his skin pale. "I… I…. I'm not…"

I grin. "Uninvited yourself, too, huh?"

He nods and goes back to staring at the pool.

More silence.

I don't usually like silence. It always feels like it's squeezing me in a fist, making my pulp out at the top and bottom until I die. But the quiet scares me, too, because it makes me think, and thinking… thinking reminds me how much I hurt. I don't like thinking about it because I'm supposed to be tough one. I'm supposed to be one that doesn't cry.

I haven't cried since my mom's funeral. I haven't had to cry. I'm good at not crying. But still… today I actually sort of want to cry. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"I didn't think you would want to be alone," he whispers suddenly.

I don't say anything, even though I feel like he wants me to. The thing is, I don't know what to say. The great Actress is stumped, because she doesn't know her lines. Actually, she knows her lines, she just can't say them.

Because she knows he's right.

I didn't want to be alone.

"Where've you been, Ann?" Dad asks the second I walk into the Inn.

It's spotless. I miscalculated how long it would take. I took too long. I got distracted.

I'm glad Cliff is standing right next to me, even if Dad's ignoring him. It's weird. I haven't had any security blanket since I was five. That's more than fifteen years ago. But it still feels good.

"The Goddess Pond," I tell him, honestly. I don't want to argue with him today. I feel drained, even if Cliff and I didn't talk much. Especially after he said that thing.

After that, and the ensuing awkwardness, he said and did so little. But what he did do… it was nice of him.

"We should get back to the Inn," he said suddenly, softly.

I looked over at him, not saying anything. My throat was dry, both from the silence and the epiphany I was having issues coming to terms with.

"We wouldn't want to get attacked by any wild dogs," he added.

I liked the sound of the "we" for some reason, so I picked myself up and brushed off my overalls. The same dirty overalls I always wore. They're patched and faded, and they'd gotten thinner over the years.

As a wind rushed through the little clearing, it chilled me to my bones, and I shivered.

Suddenly, I felt something warm around my shoulders. Cliff was helping me into his jacket. I let him. I didn't tell him to take it back until we reached the doors of the Inn.

I like the way he smells.

That sorta makes it okay that we spent the entire day there and did absolutely nothing while we did.

Cliff trots up the stairs, but just before he disappears, he turns to me and waves. I can't bring myself to smile. Instead, I just nod to tell him I saw. He continues up, and out of sight.

Dad sighs. "Get to bed, Ann. It's late. We'll talk to tomorrow

Maybe I'm not as good an actress as I thought I was. Or maybe he's just tired. I don't want to argue with him. I'm… I'm too drained.

I go to bed. As I lay in the darkness, I find myself wondering whether he's staring out at the stars like I am. Not he, not the one who was married today, although I find myself sort of thinking him, too, but the one laying upstairs…

"She asked me to go to the Full Moon Festival with her," Cliff says.

I freeze, nearly dropping my sponge back in my bucket from wringing it out. I don't want to know, but I do. I ask anyway. "Who?"

"Claire." His voice is soft, hesitant.

I nod. It's exactly what I was expecting. "What did you say?" We're friends now, probably because of what happened a year ago. The anniversary for their marriage was two weeks and four days ago.

I still care, I think, but not as much. I can look them in the eyes again now. I can speak to them like I don't care. But I haven't told anyone. I haven't admitted to anyone that it hurt, that it still hurts. Not even Cliff.

Not even the only friend I think I still have.

I didn't enter seclusion because I wanted to. It just sort of happened. When I realized that it had, I didn't really want to stop it, so I didn't. The only people I talk to, other than for orders and stuff, are Dad and Cliff now. With Dad, it's hardly more than a "Good morning" or a "Sleep well?" or something like that anymore.

Everyone grieves differently. Except I wasn't aware I was grieving. I'm not grieving.

I'm not really pissed off anymore either. I just want to go on. I want to forget that he even exists. The fact that she's pregnant and they're both ecstatic just makes it a little harder.

"I said I didn't know," he says finally.

I turn around and wipe at my forehead again. "Why?"

"I might want to go with someone else."

I squash the hope, the daring goddamned want, before it can do more than rear its ugly head, but even that is too much. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice.

"You didn't tell her that, did you?" I ask.

He shrugs. "No, but… Ann…"

"Yeah?" It's my turn to ask him, because we both think he'll say yes, but it's just repeating history. I told him yes when he asked, but the whole time he was looking at someone else. Just because Cliff thinks he wants to go with me doesn't mean he wouldn't rather go with her.

Guys never know what they want until they're ripping someone else's heart out. That's why there's no such thing as a Happily Ever After.

He still hasn't responded, and I turn around to look at him. He's staring at a spot next to me, at the ground, and he's red in the face, but his lips are so tight together that it's like he's trying not to vomit.

I look away again. "Go. Have fun. It's not like you need my permission." The words come out sharp, and even though I want to wince, I don't, because I know it's what he needs to hear.

"Oh."

"Is that like you favorite word or something?" I snap finally, getting up with my fists at my sides and glaring at him. It's like I've reached my boiling point. I feel like a firework, lit aflame by some unsuspecting by-passer only to blow up in their face. It's not your fault you're being stupid. "You always say that! No matter what anyone else says or does, you always just say 'oh' and go about your thing like they don't matter! What's your problem?"

He stares at me for a long moment, with one foot back like he wants to turn and run. He doesn't know what to say as he stares at me. His eyes are wide, and I have to admit, they're really pretty, but I'm too angry to care right now. I want him to admit there's something wrong, something up, something that the world just isn't doing right.

Instead, he straightens up, and his eyes get smaller until they reach their normal size, and it's him who's suddenly intimidating me, like I'm afraid of him, although I shouldn't be. I'm the tough one, the tough, albeit erratic, redhead. I'm the one that goes into a rage. Not him. That's why his words, when they come, surprise me. "I don't have a problem, Ann, but it seems sort of like you have a problem with someone. Maybe it's yourself. Maybe you're mad at yourself… but it isn't right to snap at someone because of that."

He's calm, cool, collected, like I didn't just yell at him. He studies me for a minute. I can feel my mouth hanging open as I stare at him. I expected him to tuck tail and run, like some kicked puppy.

I'm a puppy kicker. That shouldn't make me want to cry.

Then, Cliff nods to me. "Thanks, Ann." He waves. And then he walks away.

I count the sounds of his footsteps as he goes down the stairs. I listen for the slam of the front door.

I kicked the bucket of soapy water across the room, splashing suds everywhere—on the wall, the floor, even the legs of the table and the chair and the bed. I end up crouching on the floor, hugging my knees, almost curled up into a ball, hiding in my arms, and trying to suppress the goddamned tears.

Why does he always have to be right?

I glare at the clock sitting behind the bar and wish it would hit midnight already so I can go to bed. I don't want to be up late. I want to be in bed, hiding under my covers, pretending there's absolutely nothing wrong with the world.

There's a slight tick as the hour hand moves. 7:00 o'clock.

What a cruel, cruel world I live in.

Dad went to his room already, probably to stare out the window with the picture of my mom that he keeps on his dresser. I have a picture of her, too. Thinking about it makes me want to grab my ice cream and go onto the roof.

Why not?

I go into my room, grab the picture, and head to the kitchen. In the dark, it takes only a moment longer before I've fished two spoons and an extra large tub of triple chocolate ice cream from the appropriate storage facility, and I make my way back out front.

I face the bar again, pondering the situation for a moment. If anybody finds me, they're going to think someone's up, and my part as Best Actress of Mineral Town will forever be ruined. But no one's going to go looking for me up on the roof, right? I always thought it had the best view anyway. Besides, there's no one up there to bug me.

I sit down at the bar and study my mom's picture, and the unopened tub of ice cream. It seems almost like a waste now.

Suddenly, the door opens behind me. Without looking, I slide out of my chair and say, "So, what'll it be?" I'm expecting one of the older villagers, wanting a glass of wine since all the couples are at the mountaintop.

"Forgive me."

The words surprise me, and I spin around.

Cliff stands in the doorway, looking upset and embarrassed both. "I'm sorry, Ann."

I stare at him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to ask… if you wanted to look at the moon with me…" he adds in a whisper.

I can't stop the swelling smile. "I know just the place." I grab his hand, and the ice cream (but I leave the picture behind), and pull him up the stairs and onto the roof.

We end up sitting next to each other on his jacket, spooning ice cream out of the tub in turns, and talking about things that don't really matter. It's when we're nearly out of ice cream that he clinks his spoon against mine.

"You know, this doesn't make it better," I tell him.

He nods slowly, staring at the moon rather than at me. "I know."

Boys are pretty stupid, but they have their good moments, because sometimes you don't have to play Actress around them.