"Dearest farmer,

If you are able and would be so kind, please meet me at the swing set by the abandoned community center at 9pm tonight. There is something I must discuss with you.

-Elliott"

So read the letter I discovered in that mailbox that morning. Tonight's date, Spring 13, was neatly written in the top right corner, so I could be certain Elliott really did mean tonight.

The Egg Festival was overall a fun time. Sam and I tied for second in the Egg Hunt, Abigail taking the win by one egg. We both vowed to defeat her next year. After that, and up until I excused myself, the three of us and Sebastian sat by the river and shared some jokes and laughs and whatnot. Shot the shit. The kind of shit the pre-Stardew-Valley me didn't think I deserved. I once again had to thank my late grandfather for allowing me all the wonderful things I now had in my life, in the form of a beautiful farm, a charming orange kitty friend, a welcoming town, and at least three badass human companions, one whose hand I maybe wanted to put a ring on someday. I also realized I had to thank the younger versions of me that were so incredibly tempted to give up on life, but markedly decided to keep going. I wasn't lying to myself: it really did get better.

Even with how fun and happy the day was, though, this impending meeting did weigh on me the whole time. Do I tell someone? Do I ask someone to keep a stealthy eye on us just incase? Now, don't get me wrong, I could never take Elliott as someone to even wish harm upon me, or much anyone else... but humanity could be cruelly unpredictable.

My respect for Elliott's probably wanting to keep this covert arrangement... well, covert won over. I had excused myself from my gathering with my friends, saying I had to quickly take care of something then go home and feed Laslow, which... was the truth. Poor guy hadn't had dinner yet.

Now, though, just minutes to 9, the citizens of Stardew Valley were going back and forth between packing up the festival and stopping to chat. Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail were still among them. I sat on one of the playground's swings, reading Elliott's letter over and over, trying fruitlessly to draw conclusions from the subtlest of details.

I was also preparing my response for if this overwhelming hunch I had was right.

"A-Ah... hello. I see you showed up."

The idle chatter in town had served to ease the tension in the air. Elliott's voice, though, simultaneously made it so thick you could cut through it with a knife... and acted as the knife to do said cutting in one fell swoop.

There was one striking thing about it, though: he sounded nervous. This presented both good and bad news. The good news was that unless it was some facade, he probably didn't mean to harm me. The bad news, though... was that this heavily contributed to that hunch.

Nevertheless, I looked to see Elliott approaching from my 10 o' clock. His hands were behind his back, and I got the strange feeling that that was intentional.

"What, did you think I was gonna stand you up?" I asked.

"No, I-I had faith, but... I... couldn't be sure, you know?" he replied. "Anyway, I'm... sure you've got somewhere to be, so I'll get to the point."

"Heh, you, getting to the point?" I quipped.

I'm not sure if he heard me, though. I'd barely finished that line before he revealed what had been behind his back.

Here I was, sitting on a swing set... and here Elliott was, standing in front of me and holding out what looked like a carefully-curated rose.

"...I..." he stammered. "...Would you like to go to the Flower Dance with me?!"

I could be essentially certain that my hunch was correct... not that I could really think about having had a hunch in the first place. It's not just that I didn't know what to say, either.

I... shut down for a few seconds. Errored. Bluescreened. Felt my brain's nonessential functions (maybe even one or two of the essential) come to a screeching halt. It's as if my brain literally couldn't compute being asked out by the town poet.

When my brain did power back on, though, it came back with an answer... and the command for my heart and nerves to go berserk.

"I gotta be upfront," I responded. "Do you mean as a friend or-"

"No," Elliott answered, probably only cutting me off out of nervousness. "As... As, uh, more."

Overall, he was clearly in shambles. My first instinct was to comfort him, but how do you comfort someone that's making an unreciprocated move on you specifically? With the truth, right? The nicely-presented-but-honest-to-Yoba truth?

Also, holy shit was Elliott confessing feelings to me?! How does that happen?!

"...I... appreciate the offer," I started. "But... if you really do mean this as a, um, romantic proposition, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline."

He visibly deflated a little when I said that. Poor guy.

"Elliott, you're a fantastic guy, and I'm sure you'll find someone who will fall dearly in love with you," I said. "But I... just don't... feel that same way toward you."

I only added in this last part because I knew it would've helped me move on if I was in Elliott's shoes.

"I've actually had my eye on someone else."

Elliott was silent for a few seconds, but the sadness in his eyes spoke volumes, those eyes that were metaphorically dead-set on me while mine were diverted somewhere else. I had to do what made me happy, but still... damn.

"...I understand," he eventually said. "I appreciate your honesty and kindness, and... and I hope our friendship can... t-that I can continue to be your friend."

"Oh, of course," I assured him. "You're one of my best friends, Elliott."

To my delight, Elliott smiled. The defeat in his eyes was still pretty obvious, but that smile offset that defeat pretty well.

"I'm filled with joy to hear you say that," he replied.

A good four seconds of awkward silence then ensued. I spent it thinking about how relieved I was that not too much had to change. Of course, I couldn't just forget that he had romantic feelings for me, but it didn't have to affect absolutely everything. Quite frankly, the thought of not having Elliott to discuss the finer points of life and nature with made me shudder a bit.

"It's getting a little chilly, isn't it?" he then asked. "I'll... let you go home."

"Okay," I nodded, getting up from the swing. "...You have a fantastic night and get home safely, alright?"

"...Yes," he replied. "You as well."

Author's note: I'm... fully expecting this confession scene to have turned out to be trash. For some reason, though, adding much more drama and passion to it would've felt kinda unnatural. Let me know what you think, if you'd like.