Love is a Fine and Fickle Thing

Maru left the Egg Festival once the egg hunt was over and she had her fill of deviled eggs, but she had not gone alone. Her unlikely tag-along spoke constantly about the state of his excellent physique and athletic prowess, but the young scientist knew that when she chose to take on this new project. After their earlier conversation - well, really lecture - about the different kinds of muscles and how they serve different purposes, one topic lead to another until the two were down a rabbit hole of ideas. By the time Maru was prepared to leave the Egg Festival, Alex wanted to try a specially-catered a workout routine that would best prepare him for professional level gridball. Maru never had such an eager study participant and it would certainly give her a more rounded experience, she reasoned. "I'm going to crush whatever you throw at me," the spiky-haired brunet insisted with a level of confidence that suggested either a lack of individual awareness or complete and utter denial of human limitations. Either way, this could prove to be a fun distraction from her more serious projects.

"We have to set a performance baseline first," the researcher told him, whipping out a fresh notepad and well-inked pen. "So run to that tree and back."

Alex looked confused at first, "Right now?" he questioned.

"You've already lost three seconds!" she shot back, though really she had not started the timer yet. That would skew her data points. The jock sprang into action, sprinting toward the tree, and banking off the trunk with his foot for a quick turn before he returned to Maru. "How'd I do? Great, huh?"

"Did I tell you to stop?" Maru questioned, looking up from her note pad. "We have to do at least ten iterations in order to get a good data set."

Alex quickly stripped himself of his letter jacket and did as he was told. Maru noted when the athlete finished each lap and marked down the time. After about a dozen reps, the researcher seemed satisfied the collection of information would provide a reliable average for the gridball player's performance.

The bespectacled young woman glanced up to see a panting, but not yet exhausted Alex standing before her. He had a healthy layer of sweat accumulating evenly across his tanned dermis. Good, we can continue, she thought to herself. "I assume you have a gridball?" Maru asked, though she already knew the answer before she finished the question. Alex always had a gridball on his person. Somehow. That was another mystery to solve, but perhaps for another day.

"I'm going to use my drone to film you while you throw the ball as far as you can," Maru explained to the jock. "After we're done, I'll go back over the footage to study your current technique, distance, and power behind each throw. I'll then run a comparison based on data from players who are already professional athletes and determine what we can improve upon on a separate date. Does that sound good to you?"

"You mean you're not going to give me all the stuff today?" he complained. Alex had expected to have a workout plan in-hand by the end of this.

Maru sighed, "Nothing about this process is going to give you instant gratification. If you want my help to improve, it will take time, effort, and drive," she warned Alex. She tapped the end of her pen to his chin, "Do you still want to continue?"

Alex appeared to mull it over a few moments, before finally saying, "I know I'm great, but I wanna be the best when I go pro." He gripped the gridball tightly and backed away, feigning a throw. "Let's do this, glasses girl."

"Excellent!" Maru replied, pulling the drone controller out from one of her pockets. She pressed the homing button so that it would return. "While we wait, make sure to hydrate. We have a lot of testing to do..."

"Bring it on!"

"I do not like this one bit, Robin," Demetrius said with a huff as he stared out the front window of their house at his daughter and Alex. "That boy is trouble. A distraction from Maru's bright future!"

Robin joined her husband, spying on Maru from the window. "It looks like she's putting him to work, dear," she replied with a laugh as Alex ran to and from a tree in the distance. "What's wrong with Maru spending time with other people her age?"

Demetrius was clearly agitated. "Sports are not 'scientific pursuits,' they are frivolous and play no part in one's quest for knowledge."

Since Maru was not the one running around, Robin could tell Demetrius' objection was not to physical exercise, but she played along. The ginger woman patted her husband's shoulder, "Exercise is important for both physical and metal health, my love." She placed her palms on either side of Demetrius' face and gently turned his head away from the window, toward her own face. "And if Maru wants to help Alex with his dream, that's her decision. You know she isn't always going to be your little assistant, Demetrius. Our daughter is her own person with her own aspirations."

The father grumbled at the thought. "She will always be my little girl," he protested as his eyes did their best to glance out the window once more. His wife made it impossible to do so, however, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss upon his lips.

"And that's very sweet," Robin assured her husband, taking his hand and dragging him away from the front of the house. "Now let Maru have her fun in peace."

"But I have no idea about his intentions!" Demetrius argued, his mouth set in a deep frown.

Robin seemed put out by her husband's current obsession. "What about my intentions, Demetrius?" Robin said with a breathy sigh, holding her husband close, and gently tugging at the collar of his blue polo shirt. "Our children are both out of the house..." she added, brushing a bit of pollen off of his shirt along his collarbone.

Demetrius gazed into Robin's dark eyes and the meaning of her words finally clicked, "Oh!" he responded with surprise and a broad smile. "I see." He cleared his throat. "That is an excellent proposal. In that case, lead the way."

Elliott was relatively cooperative getting home, but he spoke in a stream of consciousness the entire way. It helped Violet get a better idea as to why Elliott was in his current state of inebriation, but it also raised many questions. Violet was confident she would not get most of those answers any time soon, either. From what she could gather, Elliott had courted this Cassandra woman over the course of several years, at a painstakingly slow pace. Though, Elliott did not seem to share that sentiment. He found the drawn-out process romantic. "Oh, the night we were engaged was absolutely magical..." he moaned wistfully. "The world stood still for one single, perfect moment of bliss as the twinkling stars stood as witness to our vows of undying love."

"Yeah, and that sure stood the test of time," Leah added sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and adjusting her shoulder to better support Elliott's weight. "From what you said last night, she dumped you the moment she found out you were disinherited."

"That is completely absurd!" Elliott cried in his drunken state, "It was a full week afterward, so she must have had other reasons!" It was a weak argument, even Violet could understand that with the bare bones of the situation she had collected. She probably wanted to save some face and not break it off immediately and associate herself with whatever scandal occurred, Violet thought, though she would never say so to Elliott. He was already miserable and the farmer did not want to add fuel to the flames.

Leah sighed, "If Cassandra really loved you, she would not have broken off the engagement at all." The red-head was frustrated with her friend's rose-tinted lenses when it came to his ex-fiancee. "In fact, since she immediately fell into your brother's arms afterward proves to me that she was after your family's money, not your pretty face or your sweeping romantic gestures."

"How dare you insult the name of my sweet Cassandra!" the silky-maned man blubbered, trying to twist himself free from Leah. "She is the most kind, beautiful soul I ever had the pleasure of..." he trailed off, as his sobbing overrode his executive functions. Leah shouted as Elliott nearly toppled to the ground, but between the two women, they were able to get him basically vertical again. The farmer wondered if Elliott was always this sad a drunk or if the wine merely amplified his already present despair.

"So you were engaged to Cassandra, but she broke off the marriage when you were disinherited, and now she's marrying your younger brother at the end of this year?" the farmer recapped. She could not imagine being romantically involved with a pair of brothers, even if the relationships were not overlapping. The idea made her skin crawl on some fundamental level.

Elliott shuddered, trying to regain his composure. "Th-that is the w-wretched circumstance in which I f-find myself, yes!" he eked out pitifully.

Violet squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. "I know things seem bad now, but life has a way of sorting itself out," the young woman reassured her heartbroken friend. "Maybe not quite the way you hoped," she clarified when she saw Elliott's lips begin to form a rebuttal, "but I bet someday you will find someone else who is an even better match for you in every way." While the farmer knew these things were not guaranteed, Violet had a feeling that her new hopelessly romantic companion could easily fall for someone if the right person came along. His friends would just have to help keep him safe from those who would take advantage of Elliott. The pastel-haired woman thought that might be a bit of a challenge, but nothing she and Leah could not handle, if the situation arose.

The trio arrived at Elliott's beach front cottage and after some digging around in his overcoat pocket, Leah found the key and slot it into the hole. It turned with a loud click and the three of them were granted entry into their Elliott's home. It was not much, but then again, when you lived on the beach, ideally you did not need much.

Elliott's seaside shack had two separate tables, though only one had a chair. They both appeared to be for writing, however. Perhaps the author felt that switching his perspective in the room would help prevent creative stagnation. Then Elliott had his bed on the far side of the room, away from the door and next to it a piano. This surprised Violet, but it was not an unwelcome thing to learn about her new friend. When Elliott was not in such a despondent mood, Violet told herself she should ask about what he can play. She only knew a few simple songs herself, but it was a fun way to get to know an artist and she loved music.

The farmer also noticed that for a place so small, the poet had four house plants. It made a part of her happy to see someone else appreciate them. Sadly, she only had Plus Ultra Violet at home, but at one point she had quite the collection. Another interest they had in common!

The author sighed, beside himself with grief. "I cannot possibly conjure up a more fitting woman than Cassandra," he groaned pitifully. "She is everything to me."

"You've been just fine without her the past year," Leah grumbled, trying to pry off her best friend's boot off his heel, and obviously fed up with his moping today, "until the wedding invitation stirred up all these dusty feelings."

Elliott began to protest, but decided against it. He simply reclined over his bed until he lie down, "I came out here to heal my wounded heart," he shared, distinctly miserable. "But despite the physical distance, Cassandra found a way to pierce it once again. My heart, which I have always worn upon my sleeve, is damp from the ichor of heartbreak and salty tears of my sorrow." He went on about the wine of something-or-other made from this mixture, being made to drink is pain, and how his soul would never recover, etc.

Wow, he really does talk like that all the time, doesn't he? Violet thought in amazement and exasperation. While he was entirely too verbose about his feelings, maybe it was his way of coping with something he could not control. As if the wall of words were a barrier against a tide of depressing emotions.

Despite it all, Violet's heart did go out to the guy. Elliott really must love this Cassandra woman and she did not seem to care about him whatsoever. At least, that's what it sounded like. Violet knew it was none of her business, but she could not help but wonder why Elliott was disinherited. And from what? Was he from an especially wealthy or powerful family in the Ferngill Republic? He must be, if the disinheritance played that large a part in Cassandra's decision not to marry Elliott after all.

"Well, the wedding isn't until the end of Winter, right?" Violet finally cut in.

Elliott blinked, caught off-guard with the interruption to his monologue on the nature of heartbreak. "Yes. What of it?"

The farmer paused, "That gives you plenty of time. You could channel all this energy into your next book." She placed a hand on Elliott's shoulder and gestured toward the ceiling, "You've been having writer's block lately. This could be a sign from the universe. Think of the possibilities!"

Leah, unsure if this tactic would succeed but willing to try just about anything at this point, joined in. "Yeah, you've been at a loss for written words for ages now, Elli," she said sympathetically. "You could use it to try and sort out all your feelings, or write about how you wished things had gone, or even meeting someone new and finding that people don't always end up with their first love and that's okay." Leah shrugged, "Maybe by the end you'll have something usable for the publishers. If not, you can at least get some catharsis out of the whole process."

Elliott sniffled and tugged a handkerchief from his breast pocket, dabbing his eyes and nose. "You are quite right." He took a deep, cleansing breath. "I must fortify myself through the might of the pen," he agreed. "I shall write a fantastic series of encounters in order to let my mind - and heart - prepare for the upcoming nuptials between Cassandra and Edmund."

Violet smiled, "That's the spirit, Elliott!" she encouraged the author with a hearty pat on the back. "Lots of famous artists used their darkest moments to inspire them to greatness!"

The poet returned the grin, but weakly. "I hope you are right, my dear friends," he said. He gripped his head, brushing away his well-maintained mane away from his face. "I must rest now, however. I fear I have imbibed far too much alcoholic drink and my head fiercely protests my poor decisions."

Leah seemed relieved, but still insisted that Elliott also take off his overcoat and especially his tie so he would not accidentally strangle himself in his sleep. Violet got the tie off easily enough, but the coat was more difficult. The drunken Elliott, already half asleep was not much help, but the two women were able to wiggle it off of him eventually.

Before they left, Leah made Elliott drink plenty of water and left a large glass on his bedside table. The ginger shook her head, "Oh, he's going to regret this in the morning," she stated to no one in particular.

As they left Elliott cottage, the two walked back toward town side-by-side. It was well past dusk now, but the lights in town were bright enough to see where they were going. "He must have really loved Cassandra," Violet mused aloud. "I can't imagine what he's going through..."

Violet had a bad relationship in the past, that was for sure. But once it was over and she had some time to reflect, the farmer realized how unhealthy it had been for both people involved. She hoped Elliott would get that kind of clarity, in time.

Leah chuckled to herself quietly, "He'll bounce back," Leah assured her new friend. "Elli is resilient, even if he does make a fuss to anyone who will hear him out in the process."

The newcomer nodded in agreement. She thought it was cute that Leah called Elliott "Elli." It showed a closeness between two friends that not everyone else shared. Violet thought of how she was the one to start calling Rebecca "Bex." Meanwhile, Bex had all sorts of little pet names for Violet in both Spanish and English, but that was just part of her charm.

"I just worry he's going to try to win her back, or fall for someone else with bad intentions..." Violet confessed to Leah. "Someone could easily take advantage of Elliott."

Leah bobbed her head in accord. "Well, luckily we don't have anyone like that in Pelican Town," she stated. "But the real issue will be if he goes to the wedding."

"Well, that's almost an entire year away, so we have time to build him up before then."

The artist fiddled with the strap of her suspenders, "True," but she seemed uncertain. "I just hope he brings someone for moral support rather than trying to face it all alone..."

Violet reached out to side-hug Leah. "Hey, if he chooses to ask one of us to be his plus one, we already know that we'll defend him."

Leah chuckled nervously, "Sure, that's one thing, but neither of us know high society like Elliott does. One of us could make him look bad, trust me."

The farmer's face fell, "So... when you say 'high society'..."

A grimace formed on Leah's narrow face, "Think old French aristocracy meets modern day corporate exec culture and you might get somewhere close to what Elliott grew up with."

A lump formed in Violet's throat. She hated both those things with a passion. "No wonder he left..."

Leah burst into genuine laughter seeing Violet's face turn a shade of pale green. "Don't worry, I think Elliott's more concerned about keeping his family's name out things than he is about his own reputation." She sighed as they passed the houses on the way out of town toward her riverside cottage. "I think that's why he took the blame for what happened. He had no desire to live that kind of life anymore, but he knew that if someone didn't do it, his whole family would go down with him."

Violet, not wanting to be nosy but also overwhelmingly curious, asked, "What did he supposedly do?"

The ginger tugged at her braid, "It's... not my place to say," she said reluctantly. "Sorry, I shouldn't have even mentioned that much. Please understand. I'm sure Elliott will tell you when he feels more comfortable." Leah thanked Violet for walking with her and the two parted ways in front of Marnie's ranch.

As much as she understood why the artist did not disclose the details of Elliott's sacrifice, Violet did feel somewhat teased by this whole affair. I'll have to earn the trust associated with that kind of information, Violet reflected. Trust was not something everyone gave so freely. Better for them that way, she thought. Perhaps if she had not been so trusting in the past, Violet would not have been so hurt by the people who were supposed to love her. But that was in the past now and the young woman had other things to worry about. New friends, a new life, a new sense of purpose. Violet had finally escaped all the hurt for now and she could not be more happy with her choice to move to Stardew Valley.

"Alright. Spill!" Abigail demanded, once she and Sam has successfully dragged Sebastian off to Sam's house and into the privacy of the blond's room. "Why didn't you tell Violet that the shirt is yours?"

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably on top of Sam's bed. "What's wrong with letting Violet keep it? She likes it and I haven't worn it in ages." He looked up at Abigail defiantly. "And why do you care who has one of my old shirts?!" he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

Abigail pursed her lips, "The problem, Sebastian, is that it might give some people the idea that you two are an item. Shirts are a bit more obvious than a missing necklace and couples do legitimately swap clothing sometimes!" The amethyst-haired woman widened her stance and lowered her face toward her hoodie-wearing friend. "So... what message are you trying to tell the whole town, Sebastian? You know the rumor mill runs quickly in Pelican Town."

Sebastian seemed flustered, but held his ground. "It's not like she wears it out in public anymore," Sebastian huffed. "So I don't see the issue."

Sam smirked, noticing an interesting detail in that remark. "So, Seb. If Violet doesn't wear the shirt in public, where does she wear it?" Sebastian's face went immediately pale, then flushed as he realized that he had been caught.

Abigail's mouth fell agape in shock. "Oh my gosh, you are a perv!" She covered the lower half of her face with her hand and with the other, pointed an accusing finger at the programmer. "Something happened! What did you do?!" Abigail could only imagine what happened after she and Sam left Violet's place two nights ago.

"NOTHING!"

The blond chimed in again, "You're face wouldn't be so red if that were true, fam," he added in a sing-song voice. Sam scooted toward Sebastian, like a person trying to wriggle closer to their crush. "Did something happen at your sleepover?" he asked, resting his head on Sebastian's shoulder and fluttering his eyelashes. "Did you share some spaghetti and meet in the middle?"

Sebastian shrugged him away. "No. Literally nothing happened," he insisted. "We talked and ate separate pizzas and then she went to bed. I read until I fell asleep much later. That's it!" The young man had of course left out that both he and Violet showered before settling down for the night. Even if they had done so one after another, just thinking about how had Violet emerged from the bathroom in his shirt and a pair of short shorts that showed off her legs made Sebastian feel both a little dirty and guilty. Violet had not been coming on to him or flirting, but he could not help the way seeing her like that made him feel. He crossed his legs just in case.

While what his best friend said happened sounded perfectly innocent, Sam knew there had to be more to this. He had never seen Sebastian so bashful before, so the blond had been close when he pressed about where Violet wore the shirt. "Well, she wasn't wearing that shirt when we came by that evening and she hadn't changed before we left..." Sam recalled out loud. "Abigail, do you remember it that way, too?"

Abigail thought for a moment, "True. I've never seen her wear it," she confirmed. While the woman had seen a picture of Violet wearing the shirt, Abigail had never seen it in-person. She narrowed her light blue eyes suspiciously at their mutual friend. "So she must have changed into it after we left..." The breath immediately left Sebastian as he saw the gears turning in Abigail's mind. Something clicked. "She wore it to go to sleep!"

Sam burst out laughing as Sebastian instantly disappeared into the hood of his sweatshirt. "Bullseye!" he cackled, flailing his legs as he tried to maintain his balance on the bed.

The young woman in the room was completely scandalized, "You like that she wears your shirt to bed, you pervert!" Abigail laughed, half from disbelief and half from the fact that Sebastian was so embarrassed he had been caught. This was perfect. Abigail was worried that Sebastian would not bounce back after she rejected him, but clearly his attention had turned to the new girl in town. Not only that, now she finally got to tease her friend a giant, awkward crush that was not directed at her.

"Leave me alone!" Sebastian demanded from the confines of his hoodie. "She said it was soft and I didn't want to make her feel weird and let her know it's mine."

"You know, you're taking into consideration how Violet feels," Sam acknowledged. "That's great!" The spiky-haired blond wrapped an arm around his turtled friend, "So I guess this confirms that you've got... boyfriend material."

"I fucking hate you both," Sebastian hissed from inside his hood in response to the bad joke. "Can I leave now?"

Sam glanced at Abigail, "What do you think? Should we let the poor guy go?"

A sigh escaped the young woman, in part to catch her breath from all the laughter. "I suppose we've tormented our friend enough, Sam..." she agreed reluctantly. "C'mon out, Sebastian. We'll let you go home now."

Sebastian fled the instant he heard the click of Sam's opening door, without hesitating to say good-bye. I guess we mortified him more than I thought, Abigail thought to herself. I hope he's okay...

When Abigail turned back toward Sam, he was standing much closer than he had been before. She gasped slightly, and her heart began to race. "So..." the blond began, "some couples swap clothing huh?" The amethyst-haired woman cleared her throat and took a step back to turn away.

"Uh, yeah..." she stated. "I guess that's a thing, if they're both into that kind of thing. Probably more shirts and outwear, I think, but-"

She glanced back at Sam to find that he had shed his demin jacket, which now lay on his bed, and his yellow shirt, which he held out to offer to her. "Care to trade?" he asked her with a wink.

Abigail immediately balked at the suggestion and tore her eyes away from Sam's bare chest. "I-I... We're not even dating!" she shot back shakily, but that did not stop Sam from flashing his goofy smile at her.

"Sure," he agreed, lowering his arm slightly. "But this way you can decided if I'm boyfriend material, right?" he suggested confidently. "I'll even wear one of yours, if you want," he said with a chuckle.

The joke distracted Abigail for a moment, "You wouldn't even fit into one of my tank tops," she argued. The woman realized she made a mistake as soon as she turned around to face Sam again. Damn his abs... Sam was enjoying every second of Abigail's gaze focused on his shirtless top half. "I'll bet I can fit just fine," he responded. "Just a little... differently," he said, gesturing at Abigail's figure. "If you don't believe me, we can test that theory."

Abigail could not believe how bold Sam was being with her. Was this because he was confident that Sebastian had moved on? Did he really think this was a good idea? The pale woman exhaled shakily. What should she do?

Without thinking, the amethyst-haired woman undid the belt that held her sleeveless vest in place over the rest of her outfit. "Just a quick swap," she laid out the ground rules. "And only because I don't see how my shirt could possibly fit you."

"If it does, will you agree to swap for just a night?"

While part of her did want this, the other part of Abigail was screaming at her to stop this nonsense. "Fine," she agreed impulsively.

They both turned away from one another for the exchange to try on each other's shirts. As expected, Sam's shirt was a little loose on her, but not a bad fit. Just a bit tighter around the chest than Sam wore it. When Abigail looked to see Sam, she blushed. "It's... uh... a little snug," she told him. Abigail was not used to seeing Sam's bare arms or really in anything closer to tailored to the shape of his body. The v-neck tank top showed a great deal of skin and clung to his body, like - Abigail immediately panicked as she felt the heat of her body rise. "Okay, it doesn't fit! The trade is over," she said quickly, trying to yank off the yellow t-shirt without thinking.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Sam objected, "Let me turn around first!" As Abigail paused, he gave her quick a look-over and grinned before he faced toward the opposite wall, "I can see the appeal of a girl wearing your favorite shirt, though."

Abigail frowned, "Are all guys such perverts?!" she snapped, throwing the t-shirt in Sam's general direction. Rather than waiting for Sam to return her tank top, she collected her sleeveless vest and buttoned it up all the way so she was fully covered.

"Well, only some of us are honest about how we feel," Sam chuckled. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Hey, uh... I'm actually stuck. Could you help me out, Abi?"

The woman took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she was about to see again. But sure enough, her tank top was caught at Sam's broad shoulders and he could not continue to slide it over his head without the risk of tearing Abigail's clothing. While his torso was still exposed, the fact that his arms and head were covered by her tank top made him look ridiculous. "See," she said, suppressing a laugh, "I told you it wouldn't fit."

"Once again, you were right," he sighed, though he did not seem unhappy about it. He sat down on the floor to help Abigail get a better angle to free him. After a few moments, Abigail finally eased the tank top off of Sam's shoulders and his arms wriggled free. The young woman realized how happy she felt in that moment. Sam's goofiness always made her smile and even if he did throw her for a loop like this every once and awhile, it kept things interesting between them. Besides, what girl did not want to feel as wanted as Sam made her feel?

"Sam?" she whispered, kneeling beside him and gingerly brushing the side of his face with her fingers.

Though he was still blinded by the shirt on his head, Sam paused and moved his face toward the sound of her voice. "What's up, Abi?"

"I like you a lot," she confessed. It was easier to say these things when his eyes could not look right through her. "It's probably more than that, but it scares me. I need a bit more time to sort it all out in my head..." She took a deep breath, "I promise you won't have to wait much longer. So thank you for being... you." With that, she leaned into him and planted a kiss on his lips, though the fabric of her tank top still stopped them from actually touching. Still, Sam could feel the warmth beyond the thin layer of cotton.

Abigail could not see it, but she could tell from the tone of his voice that he was smiling. "Remind me to get sexy ideas from Sebastian more often," he teased, but after a few moments without an answer, he could tell that Abigail had snuck out. The blond pulled the tank top off of his head and looked around the room to confirm that Abigail had left. Sam did notice, however, that his favorite yellow shirt was missing from the floor where Abigail had tossed it. "Huh... I guess she changed her mind," he observed with a satisfied smirk.