Hopeless Chapter 10: misunderstandings, a harvest moon fanfic

Chapter 10

Misunderstandings

It was frail, wilting and only slightly greenish, cracked and yellowing at the edges—he thought it was yellowing, but it may have been browning or tanning or chamoisee-ing or medium lavender magenta-ing for all he cared; he wasn't good with color names—with at least three different species of flies hovering around it which required a lot of swatting, missing, and cursing.

It was beautiful.

Normally, he'd have thrown it out days ago, and he'd have thought of plenty of other adjectives to describe it that was anything but synonymous to "beautiful," but he was willing to make an exception this time, because this particular wilting weed was from someone dear to him, and that was enough to make it stunning in his eyes—although it didn't lessen the flies, but that was beside the point.

"Mark, are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" Mark asked, wondering where the voice had come from … until he spotted Denny lounging on his bed, frowning at him. "Oh. Yeah, of course I was," he added hurriedly.

"Could've fooled me," Denny said. "What was the last word I said?"

"… 'said.' "

Denny snorted haughtily.

"Okay, I wasn't listening. Sorry."

"That's not why I'm upset."

Mark frowned thoughtfully. What else could he possibly have done to make Denny upset? Except, of course ….

"You were daydreaming—"

"I wasn't—"

"—about a weed. A rotting weed."

He exhaled sharply and raised his hands defensively in front of him.

"Look. First of all, I wasn't daydreaming." His meddling conscience obnoxiously yelled "LIAR!" the moment the words left his mouth, but he ignored it—daydreaming wasn't manly and he'd never admit doing it once (or twice) in a while … especially if it was about a weed. A rotting weed. "Second, I'm sorry. Really. What were you talking about, anyway?"

"Lanna's birthday is tomorrow and I don't know what to get her." Denny, looking like a lost child, poked at Mark's bed sheets, right in the middle of an old brown coffee stain with faint streaks around it—he'd stupidly tried wiping it off but only had succeeded in spreading the coffee even more.

"Uh, fish?" suggested Mark.

"Nah, that'd be too predictable, wouldn't it?" Denny replied. "I've always given her fish on her birthdays until last year."

"How about flowers?" Mark tried again.

"Flowers grow everywhere. They're not that special, honestly."

"How about a birthday cake?"

"I don't know how to cook."

"Then why don't you just ask her what she'd like to receive?"

"Too tacky."

"What about her friends?"

Denny paused for a while, thoughtfully frowning at a cobweb on the corner of the ceiling—Mark reminded himself to do some cleaning sometime soon, which meant either next month or the month after that. Or the month after that.

"That's not a bad idea," said the fisherman, turning wide eyes to Mark. "You're a genius, Mark! You should go ask Sabrina or Natalie!"

The blond deadpanned. Did he hear that right?

"Whoa, wait, hold up," he said. "Why me?"

"Because it'd be too obvious if it were me!"

"Everyone knows you like her. Including her."

"Exactly."

As if "exactly" made sense. Mark considered for a while. "Why me?"

"Why not?" countered Denny.

"Why?"

"You honestly don't expect me to ask Vaughn, do you?" the fisherman spat, annoyed.

"You could ask Pierre or Will or Elliot—"

"They're all busy because they have jobs," Denny said, "unlike you. Well, except for Terry, but you know him …."

Mark was more than slightly annoyed. If Denny wanted to give Lanna something she'd love, then finding out her preferences should be Denny's responsibility, not Mark's. Besides, he'd really rather not talk to Lanna's friends because that would involve talking to Natalie and he'd really rather not talk to Natalie because he'd unintentionally involved her in a rumor he'd unintentionally started and that wasn't what he (or anyone else) would call "a good start."

Furthermore, he was afraid Sabrina might engage him in girl talk—specifically, the one about who was "dreamier" between Vaughn and Shea. He'd (accidentally) overheard the girls talking about that specific topic before—there had been two votes for Vaughn and six for Shea, and Mark had thought it was only just. He'd have voted for Shea too if he were asked … but that did not mean he wanted to engage in girl talk, nor did he think Shea was "dreamy."

"Girls are hard to talk to," he said honestly.

"They're not going to eat you, you know," said Denny, who almost seemed like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Mark stored the observation for a later date, thinking he might be able to exploit it in some way that would hurt his friend's ego.

"You don't understand. They're harder to read than … than …." Mark paused to think and search his brain for something that was hard to read, flailing his hands uselessly as he did so. "Than the Latin binary version of the Code of Hammurabi in hieroglyphs written backwards in red ink against a red background taped to the back of a tap dancer."

Denny stared at him and blinked once. Twice.

Thrice.

Then laughed.

"Wow, man, that was creative!" Denny slapped his thighs and clutched at his abdomen, his laughter rising an octave higher. "The backwards Latin hieroglyph of what taped to what?"

"That's not the point!" Mark cried, aggravated. "You're completely missing the point!"

"How can I not?" replied the fisherman, who was beginning to calm down. "Binary version of the Code of Hammurabi … really, bro, how do you think of these things?"

"I won't do it, and that's final." Mark crossed his arms and steeled himself for the persuasion that was to come.

He wasn't talking to Sabrina or Natalie—no way. No matter what happens, no matter what Denny says, no matter how much his ego gets bumped … there was no way he was going to change his mind.

No way in hell.

It was finally official: Mark was a pushover.

He gritted his teeth and shook his head. What the hell was he doing here? Why, why, why did he have to agree to everything Denny said? He could have refused to do it. Scratch that, he did refuse to do it, and plenty of times at that. He supposed it was simply a matter of will, and his friend, unfortunately, was really strong-willed. Hell, Vaughn was fickle compared to Denny.

He felt his fist tighten in annoyance with himself as he knocked on Taro's door, hoping Natalie was inside. He'd visited Sabrina earlier—he was lucky she was taking a walk outside, sparing him the imminent encounter with Regis—and she had suggested earrings made from pure orichalcum from the mines. Mark personally thought it was a very good idea, since most women loved jewelry and obtaining orichalcum wasn't really difficult. The price of having the ore fashioned into earrings, though, hurt one's pockets like … like … well, like something that hurts really badly.

"Wha—oh, hi, Mark."

The door had opened and he hadn't even noticed it. Drat.

"Hey, Natalie." He paused, wondering. Should he be blunt about it and finish it quickly or should he go through the usual pleasantries first? It might be a little rude to get to the business without asking her first how she's doing or apologizing for bothering her—ah, the hell with pleasantries. "What do you think would Lanna like for her birthday?"

"Lanna?" Natalie narrowed her eyes suspiciously and tilted her head to one side. "A homemade yam pudding, I guess."

Mark waited for her to say more, but when she didn't, he mumbled a hasty, "Okay, thanks so much" and turned on his heels. He wanted to get away from her as soon as possible, lest she start questioning him about that rumor he so desperately wanted to forget.

"Hey, wait!"

Drat.

He hesitantly turned around and saw Natalie a few steps away from where he'd left her, looking at him again with those narrowed, scrutinizing eyes. Goddess, she was frightening in her own way. Pretty, sure, but insanely frightening.

"Yeah?"

"Lanna, huh? Is she your new target?" She drew invisible quotation marks in the air when she said "target."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"First it's me, then it's Chelsea, then it's Lanna," she continued. "So, who's next? Sabrina? Julia? Lily? Got women all lined up for you to play with?"

"Wait, that's not—you got it all wrong—"

"What, you think women here could be your periodical trollop? You think we're that low?"

"Natalie—"

"Did you honestly think you could get a girl just because of a damn rumor?" She poked his chest angrily. "You think, just because you're a man, you could play with women's feelings?"

Oh, boy. Natalie was getting angrier by the second, and he didn't even know what to do. Hell, he wasn't even able to defend himself—what in the world did "trollop" even mean? And where was a dictionary when he needed one? He tried to speak and tell her she was wrong, but his tongue knotted itself and his hands suddenly became clammy. Tongue? Hands? What were those things? … oh, great. Now his brain was short-circuiting. How Vaughn even managed to put up with this woman, he wanted to know. The knowledge might become handy at times.

"Why don't you defend yourself? Because it's all true. Is that it?"

"N-n-no, no, it's not—you got it all wrong, ma'am—" Ma'am? Seriously? Wow, he really was a pansy.

Natalie grabbed his collar and pulled him down so their eyes were level. He had half a mind to tell her she had beautiful eyes but he thought it would cost him a limb or two, so he bit his tongue.

"Listen here." Her voice was so low and chilly that it sent shivers up his spine. "If you try to play your stupid womanizing game one more time, I swear I'll cut your head off … and I don't mean the one sitting on your shoulders."

Feisty.

He gulped audibly. The idea of getting castrated was terrifying, but nowhere near the woman threatening to do it. Goddess, why was this happening to him? And why was the world shaking? Good Ignis, it was an earthquake! Why wasn't anyone panicking? And why is Natalie simply glaring at him—oh, it wasn't an earthquake. It was his knees shaking.

"Let me explain, please," he whispered. "You got it all wrong, I swear."

She grunted and released him, her eyes looking murderous all the while.

He took a deep breath and began to talk.

He told her about everything—about how he'd always had feelings for Chelsea, how Denny and Chelsea had forced him to tell them who he was in love with and Natalie was the only one plausible because he couldn't admit he loved Chelsea, how Charlie and Eliza had overheard everything and spread the rumors around, how he couldn't take his statement back because he would have to confess why he'd lied and he didn't want Chelsea to know why, and how Denny had coerced him into asking them for ideas on the perfect gift for Lanna.

She listened patiently, nodding every now and then, and when he was done talking, she smiled widely.

"Sorry for thinking so lowly of you," she said, still grinning, "but you had it coming. Still, I'm sorry. I really am, Mark."

"It's fine. It was all my fault, anyway."

She cleared her throat and looked away embarrassedly.

"You've got another problem coming, and it's … kinda sorta my fault."

He frowned. Oh no, not again. Not another castration threat.

"Well, when I collared you," she said, "Chelsea came out her farm and saw us, and … well, you know how we might've looked like, and I think she might've been a little hurt, you know, because she ran right back home."

Oh no.

Oh no, Goddess, no. He'd gladly accept another threat of castration rather than face this. No, no.

Why did these things keep happening to him? And just when he thought they were starting to get along so well. His thoughts strayed to the rotting weed sitting delicately on his bedside table; he barely noticed Natalie apologize again and walk away.

Chelsea had the worst timing sometimes.

…

a/n:

I got my internet back! Yay! Well, actually, I've had it back for a while now. Sorry I haven't been able to update; I've just been really really busy ... especially now that I got a job (finally). I don't think I'd be able to update as often as I'd like, but I swear I'll try. By the way, are you guys aware of the two-chapter Harvest Moon IoH manga released January 2007? I sure wasn't. The links are on my profile if you're interested. :D