7 DAYS IN INSTITUTION

Summary: Sunshine Islands. Starry Night Festival and the resulting week at Mirabelle's. Based on the common Vaughn glitch. Why did he stay? Why won't he accept gifts? Why does he stubbornly repeat the same sentence again and again? And how does the hard-working Chelsea combat this? Game and character observations a plenty. Romance/Comedy/Drama!

Notes: whilst reading Vaughn fiction... I discovered that many of the scenes while reminiscent were very different from my current play through. Upon researching (because I can be pretty thick if its not spelled out for me) I discovered that Island of Happiness has a higher volume of, and more diverse scenes. I was duped. I've woo'd Will to a yellow event nevertheless but my heart is safely in one porridge-eating, spurs-clacking, pretty white-haired cowboy's tight denim pocket. This is for those Vaughn-lovers who like me feel they may have missed out slightly despite the gift of youtube.

This is based on my play through of Sunshine Islands: IoH's younger and less frivolous brother. Year 2: Starry Night Festival on Tuesday... a plot bunny built around a game glitch. At some sections this might possibly verge on the edge of abuse for poor Vaughn but in all truth and fact he really did not leave Mirabelle's until the noodle festival on the following Tuesday during this glitch and that makes for pretty interesting conjecture. Not to mention that the character traits that Vaughn reveals in between heart scenes and finally after marriage show him to be a curious little egg of mysteries waiting to be cracked.

PS. Please do not prejudice on my chapter titles as I have pointedly made them silly for my own cheap amusement.

VAUGHN GETS A HAIRCUT

Tuesday 11:50am

His breaths came quick and heavy. Sweat had formed a fine sheen across his brow and his fingers clenched tightly onto well known and caressed material. Her breathing was just a laboured. Their activity had left them breathless and locked in a stalemate. Her hands were poised delicately; prepared to strike in a moment's opportunity.

"Oh for heaven sakes you two! Vaughn, it's only a hat. Julia, you're making a scene." Mirabelle slapped the rag she was using to polish her counter tops over her shoulder and bustled past them to Felicia who had her eyes pinched shut in a fit of bell-like laughter. Vaughn, as any self-respecting man would in such a case, pulled his hat in a tilt across the fluorescent colouring that had crept into his cheeks. Julia however persisted.

"Yes, it's only a hat. You can hardly see and tonight of all nights is one where you vision should be unimpaired and your visage to be comely." She punctuated her sentence with a shrill snip of the scissors. Vaughn, beneath his hat, was rueing the second he allowed these two to hear his half-hearted agreement to their silly matchmaking scheme. No one had said anything about a haircut in those first critical moments.

Felicia took this cue to put in her two cents, "I'm sure that the little lady will appreciate the added effort. Think of the returns!" He was fairly sure his ears were puffing out steam. Her face came unbidden to him and his arms fell lax at his sides. Damn these women. He was bullied, beaten, and outnumbered. Bad odds in any game. Julia made an annoyingly high-pitched and victoriously sing-song sound and grabbed his Stetson from his head. Mirabelle pushed a spare stool behind him and his knees folded until he sat in a slouching, disgruntled position to accept his fate. He closed his eyes and Julia began with the first cut.

"Oh how wonderful." Felicia clapped her hands.

Monday 8:20am

"a party?"

He swallowed. Not too thickly that she noticed however, so he carried on as usual. "Mirabelle and Julia are throwing it. Will you come?" He wondered if he was being too terse for an invitation but again her face showed no reaction to suggest she found it out of the ordinary. She put a finger to her lips and tapped once looking skyward. He would throttle the fisherman, the loincloth-fetishist, and the rich kid all in the same movement if she said she had other plans. And he even sort of liked Denny. Her eyes playfully trained back on him and he swore he saw her wink. His heart clenched. Damn. She got him.

"I would love to." With that she thrust the lukewarm porridge they'd made such a routine out of exchanging each morning into his palms and hurried out with her arms full of chicken feed. He was still forming his thanks on his tongue and was sure that at that moment he looked very much like a fish gulping on air.

Julia stirred the contents of her bottomless cooking pot in the kitchen with a smile and her silence said more than her words.

Tuesday Noon

There was a very sparse amount of hair on the floor but enough to satisfy them both. Mirabelle went about sweeping it up and Julia and Felicia busied themselves complimenting his new look. He checked the mirror that was held out to him. It was quite like his old look just a little shorter where it hung. He was never much one for reflections so without hesitation he replaced his hat and pushed away from the women, ready to be free of them for a minute. Or an hour.

His vest was snagged around the collar and he pulled back and went limp like a cub being picked up by its mother. At the other end was Mirabelle wagging her finger.

"ah, ah, ah. You are staying for all the preparations, dear." The colour drained from his face. Even though his work was done for the day ha had planned to do a little bit here and there on the islands. Just one hour...He thought of Chelsea: always in a rush. He appealing smile as she tripped and stumbled trying to wave to him while she crossed the beach with a fish flapping in her free hand. She charmed him. She annoyed him. She was foolishly unselfish. It had taken him weeks to admit he had a soft spot for her.

Hey, have you got a minute.

What is it? I've always got a minute for you!

You wanna go somewhere? ...With me.

Sure, I've finished here for the day and I was thinking about grabbing some lunch, wanna hit the diner?

Not the diner. His hand was hot when it reached for hers. Somewhere, just us.

The Previous Monday 4:20pm

First they took a boat to Meadow Island. Vaughn would rather that they had their own boat and needn't sit awkwardly together with Kirk, but the boatman didn't leer at them any more than necessary nor make any comments that Julia and Mirabelle might. The wide open space served to placate him, despite the breeze off the ocean being bitterly cool. When they got there the sunshine was flickering behind the trees and Chelsea was making small comments on her daily routine, clearly affected by the mood of the situation. Her cheeks were pink; any previous bravado had been forgotten. When the reached the beach they were silent, the wind tousling her loose hair and ruffling his clothes. The dappled light shimmered on the waves.

"Oh, I tried your advice with Moomin..." her heifer. She refused to budge in the mornings on days when she'd put them outside. His advice was to soothe her first with a milking and a brushing before guiding her outside by a handful of fodder instead of pushing her backside from the get go. Some cows could be moody when they were milk-laden in the morning and that made them stubborn. Miscommunication could end in injury for both parties. "It worked," She started again, smiling at him pleasantly. "You really know your stuff."

Something caught in his throat. It wasn't that he hadn't expected the compliment nor that he didn't believe he deserved it.

"Chelsea." it may have been the first time he used her name and not 'you' or 'girl'. It worked to make him even more certain of his words. Being able to help her at all made him feel lighter. "I really respect you." The breeze swept strands of chestnut across her face that had watched him closely then. When it settled her eyes were alight and there was a confident smile on her lips.

"I respect you too." This however shook him. Her gaze told him that she understood exactly what had been said. What he'd meant by it. He forgot to hide his expression; he gaped at her. The sunset highlighted the flush that had rushed to his cheeks.

"r-really." He cursed himself and she nodded in that over-enthusiastic way of hers. The water shuffled the stone and sands around his heels. Floundering for his next words, his thoughts were cut off by a sudden weight in his hands. She continued to beam at him until he glanced down at his fingers holding the same tepid and slightly lumpy porridge she'd given him every morning.

When was it that she'd realized?

Tuesday 5:00pm

He was pacing. Well his mind was. He wasn't so lost that he couldn't control his own feet. He was stood stock still in his usual place. So still that as Mirabelle moved dishware and table linen and sparkly looking glasses from dust and storage to the kitchen she gave him worried passing glances. As if he might suddenly fall over, a cardboard cut-out; proof of his astonishing escape.

Thankfully after proving that he was less than gifted at cooking his surrogate family shuffled him out of the kitchen and put a broom and dusting rag in his hands. Actually, he wasn't all that gifted at cleaning either. Mirabelle clicked her tongue when he dusted the shelves and then immediately took up sweeping the fluff and bunnies in the corners. Apparently this causes more dust to settle all over again... the rag hit the floor and sent a whorl of grime back into his eyes.

Julia appreciated the boot-stomping, curse-stringing, eyes-streaming scene afterward with a graceful smile that veiled her mischievousness.