My pairing story of Elliot and Chelsea in Harvest Moon: Island of Happiness. Basic understanding of the Harvest Moon games and plotline is highly suggested, however, direct experience with the Island of Happiness (IoH) game will definitely improve the reader's comprehension! There will be some lemons in the later chapters, so if you're a kiddo who can't handle that stuff yet, skip the marked chapters. Enjoy!

I sighed with relief as I firmly placed the lid of the shipping bin back in place. Today was the final day of Summer, and I had ran around like a lunatic trying to harvest all my crops in time. My crop were all tucked away neatly now, ready to be shipped to the main land and traded and sold from there. I wasn't exactly sure what parts of the world ever saw the fruits of my labor. I've always been a real solid kind of person, only understanding what I can see and touch. The faceless names of those who purchased my goods miles away didn't really interest me; the gold it raked in did though. I know that must sound really greedy, but it was my back breaking work and the gold I earned alone that transformed this island. Without me, it would still be as unforgiving as it first was when I first arrived here, three years ago.

This is Year Three here on Sunny Island, and so much has changed. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the shipping bin, watching the clouds roll by. If it hadn't been for Taro and his family, and all of their help, I wouldn't have made it this far.

As if on cue, I hear approaching horse hooves coming from town. I stand up, and wait for Elliot and the horse drawn cart. As he gets closer, and his features become more defined, I wave high above my head, shouting a greeting. He smiles warmly, and returns my enthusiastic greeting. Finally, he pulls the horse to a stop in front of me, whispering to it calmingly. After the horse has steadied, he turns his attention back to me.

"How was your day, Chelsea?" He asks as he bends and checks the contents of my shipping bin. He nods approvingly, seeing that everything is in place, before leaning further to grasp it firmly at the bottom.

"It went well, thank you," I grunt, quickly stooping myself to help him load the heavy box onto the cart.

"You don't have to help, I've got it, honest," he protests courteously, his voice strained.

"It's not a problem, I don't mind helping." We finally settle the shipping container onto the cart, before turning to one another and giving each other a breathless smile. Elliot turns the horse around, and we begin to head south to the beach, where the ship was waiting for the island's goods for the day. We chatted comfortably walking at a steady pace that matched the horse's. We waved at Chen as we passed his store window without halting the conversation, laughing about Taro's outburst's about weather.

Taro was the first person I had met after I had washed up on this then deserted island. Shortly after, I got to meet his family; Felicia, his daughter, and his two grandchildren, Natalie and Elliot. Naturally, having known them the longest out of all the Sunny Island residents, I was closest to them. Taro even started to insist I eat dinner with them instead of by myself at the café or home. Felicia has really grown to love me, especially since I got Elliot to start drinking milk, much to his disgust. Natalie and I were pretty close, but ever since she had married Pierre, I saw less of her at the family dinners.

We finally reached the beach. Taro heard our approach, and whirled on us with surprising speed. "Where have you whippersnappers been this whole time? Lollygagging? Get that container onto the ship!"

"Yes, Grandpa, sorry," Elliot smiled. Together, we hauled the container with a lot of shouting and grunting, telling each other to watch out for that bump in the gangplank or that sharp corner that's about to jab into your back. After some grumbling and struggling, we finally manage to place it properly. The two of us dance off of the boat's gangplank, before waving goodbye to Taro and heading back to my farm.

"That wasn't so hard," Elliot declares as he wipes off some dirt on his green apron.

"Only because I was there," I snort, rolling my eyes and flexing my biceps.

"You were a lot nicer to me when we first met, you know that?" I laughed loudly, and shook my head. Before everyone had come to the island, Elliot and I would often spend our free time together if I wasn't already hanging out with his sister. At first, trying to play both ends of this playing field, Elliot versus Natalie, I felt really uncomfortable, and often would just leave if a fight started. Now a days, though, I felt like a third child of Felicia's, taking turns on whom I picked on. Elliot never took my jests to heart, because I always knew when to stop. Sometimes… Natalie would take it a little far still.

As we approached Elliot's house, I expected for him to head inside as I kept walking to the farm. However, instead of heading inside to help his mother set the table for dinner, he continued walking next to me, heading to my land.

"Shouldn't you be getting home?" I asked him, wondering how he could forget something so habitual. He shrugged, not meeting my eyes, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his apron as he began to walk ahead of me, his red hair bouncing on his head.

"Mom can set the table just fine on her own tonight. I want to try my hand at working with animals." I snorted loudly and rolled my eyes, smirking at the back of his head.

"You? Help me put the animals away for the evening? This is something I have got to see."

With Elliot's help, we were able to put away the cows and sheep in about half the time it usually took me. The circus began when he tried to help with the chickens. All the chickens were put away except one; the one Elliot had been chasing since we had started with the poultry. While he struggled to just put one of them in the coop, I had managed to put eight away for the night. He ran bent in half at the waist, hands far in front of him, trying to catch his quarry. Every time he finally caught up to the short chicken, it would round it's beak and peck viciously at his hands, causing him to drop it and yelp, before cursing himself and chasing it again. I sat in the grass beside the coop, laughing hysterically and watching him fail.

"Stop laughing, will you? It's distracting," he panted over his shoulder, trying to gain some ground.

"It's a chicken, Elliot, not a roadrunner!" I cackled as I watched him fail to catch it again. "Try not to grab her so tight," I gasped between laughs, trying to breathe. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of comedy, Elliot grabbed the chicken gently enough to not hurt or panic it, but firm enough to keep it from struggling free. He quickly jogged into the coop to while I collapsed onto my side, my abdomen screaming for me to stop laughing as tears streamed down my face. He slowly came back outside, sitting down heavily beside my head. As my laughter subsided, his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

"Thanks…for nothing…You were…No help…whatsoever." I smiled, and snuffled around a little on the ground so that my head was lying on his lap, and not on the grass.

"I'm sorry," I replied sassily, "I thought you were here to help me, not the other way around." His body immediately tensed up under the weight of my head, his thigh turning rock hard as he became uncomfortable. A little hurt, I sat up straight next to him, and leaned my head against the coop wall.

"Maybe you should stick to shipping goods and setting tables," I suggested, closing my eyes. The last Summer sunset burned my eyelids, turning my thoughts and soul a crisp, warm orange. He grunted beside me, and I heard a quiet shuffling and a solid thunk as he dropped his head against the coop as well. I turned my face slowly towards him and peeked between my lashes. He had scooted a little further away, and his breath was heaving faster than when he had been chasing the poultry, instead of calming down.

Elliot and I have been best friends for three years now, and he knows me better than just about anybody. We use to wrestle in the Spring rain, and Natalie and I would cover him in Winter powder when he had his back turned. Nothing was ever hidden between us, and nothing ever acted as a barrier between us. Nothing, except… now, there was something. He had recoiled from my touch. Whereas I use to slip snow down the back of his pants and he use to recoil from the cold and swear I was just as bad as his sister, he now tensed up over just me resting in his lap. Things were changing, but I couldn't tell how.

"Come on," he sighed lightly, springing to his feet. "Mom will be wondering where the two of us are." He held out his hand, offering to help me up. I took it cautiously, and he hauled me to my feet before pulling me into one of our friendly hugs, our arms around each other's shoulders, walking in pace with one another. This time, he didn't seem to mind the contact, and he seemed like the same gentle natured guy I've always known. I pushed my concern from my mind; it was all in my head, nothing was changing. We were fine.

Felicia was glad when we barged through the door, playfully trying to fit through the door without letting go of each other, making a game out of our daily lives, as usual. After Taro shouted at us to stop goofing around, our typical competition began; as Felicia cooked and cleaned, Elliot and I raced around the small home, trying to be more helpful than each other.

"Will someone please set dinner on the table?" She called, a large platter of Omelet Rice held out behind her. I took it gently from her hands, but as I turned around to set it on the table, a flash of red hair and the reflection of the lights off of glasses later, he had stolen it from my grasp. As I shouted that he was cheating, he placed it gently on the table. I began setting the table's dinner plates. I threw one at Elliot just as he was looking up at me, and he miraculously caught it before it shattered on the floor. He placed it in front of one of the chairs, before saying I was a sore loser, laughing. I took Felicia's wooden cooking spoon out of her hand and was about to chuck it across the table at him, when Taro shouted, louder than before, that we should start acting our age.

"My apologies, Taro," I muttered, turning my back to him so he wouldn't see my grin.

"Sorry, Grandpa," Elliot sighed, taking his seat. As the rest of us sat down for dinner and began to eat, Felicia was smiling dreamily and shaking her head slightly.

"When you two get together, it's nearly as bad as two toddlers," she sighed, her sweet smile taking any harshness out of the statement.

"I think they're just trying to destroy the house!" Taro grumbled, shooting me a dirty look, to which I simply smiled at, my mouth full of rice.

"They're just having some fun, Dad, leave them be," she chided with a smile. As we ate, we discussed the day and its various events, and I even told Elliot's face off with the chickens, much to his embarrassment.

"It's safe to say that Pecha doesn't like him anymore," I concluded, envisioning Pecha pecking ferociously at his knuckles.

"Oh, how fun!" Felicia smiled across to her son.

"Goddess, kid, you better work on your animal skills if you ever want to be any help on that farm," Taro nodded, tapping his walking stick on the floor, irritated. "Chelsea won't stand for laziness or incompetence."

"Grandpa, please," Elliot whimpered, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face.

"He's right Elliot, you'd better start practicing. You don't want that poor sweet chicken chasing you around the farm for the rest of your life, do you?" Felicia asked, standing up.

"Mom!" he cried, giving her a pleading look with his eyes as he replaced his glasses.

"It's fine, Elliot, really," I said over my shoulder as I began to help her clear the table. His mother had mentioned after we had all spent the first Starry Night Festival together that she thought I would be good for her son, but I knew she was just joking. Elliot and I was fantastic friends, but he didn't see me that way, no matter how badly Felicia wished it would be that way. Elliot always became embarrassed whenever his grandfather or mother began to plan our future together, but I thought it was charming; it showed just how fond they were of me. Let them have their daydreams.

Elliot jumped to his feet and began to help me clean the dishes, taking his mother's place, the both of us competing again to be more helpful to the other, but with a more quiet and subdued vigor than before.

"Tomorrow will be a scorching first day of Fall, Chelsea," Taro called from his chair, where he was relaxing. "My bad knee tells me so. Be sure to give your crops extra water."

"Yes Grandpa," I said, nodding over my shoulder respectfully. Taro smiled approvingly, before turning back to stare out the window. In the Spring, Taro and Felicia requested I started calling them Grandpa and Mom, but…the transition was hard for me. Not only was it a force of habit, but a sign of respect I didn't want to lose; however, they were both insistent, and I was trying my best.

Afterwards, I waited patiently for Elliot to force down his daily glass of milk, making strange faces and noises, hoping he would make a mess or choke. Afterwards, he told his elders he would walk me home, as always, and we headed for my farm quietly, careful not to disturb the neighbors.

Archer, the dog I received during my first year, waited for my by the main farm path. He yipped happily at our approach, and shoved himself against us, demanding attention. After a few strokes and many licks, he went to the small building he slept in with my mare.

Elliot walked me to the door, and we said some drowsy goodbyes. He gave me a hug that I thought lingered longer than usual, but he pulled away and began walking home, whistling loudly. I closed the door and began to undress, already thinking about my bed, when a sharp bark sounded from behind me. With a groan, I turned around and saw Archer chasing his tail in front of me before jumping on my bed.

"Ugh, did that idiot wind you up before he left?" I groaned, petting him lovingly. He rolled onto his back, begging for more scratches. After a few more belly rubs, I pushed Archer off of my bed and turned the lights out, my red, satin night gown shimmering in the moonlight that was filtering through the window. It was the only nice thing I owned. As the black lace tickled my thighs, I threw myself into bed.

"Archer, bed," I yawned, already half asleep. As I heard the clicking as he went out the doggie door, I fell into the black folds of sleep, and dreamt of giant chickens chasing a red haired boy across my farm.