Author's preface: This one's probably taking up the largest amount of space in my notes. It was a huge undertaking for me. As such, I hope I made it good.

Also, the soundtrack of VA-11 HALL-A, an indie game, was the inspiration. Go ahead and give it a listen, or even better, give the game a try!

The first day of that winter sucked ass. It sucked ass from the very stroke of midnight.

I was asleep at that stroke of midnight. Asleep, experiencing a nightmare.

It totally shouldn't have been a nightmare. All that had happened was that I'd looked out a window, watching Sam open the car door for Penny, giving her a look of pure love, like "How did I get the privilege to escort this absolute angel?" She'd gotten out and taken both his hands in hers, and they looked like they were about to start ballroom-dancing by the car, like a newlywed couple.

All I could remember of the nightmare was those four seconds… but a four-second scenario was all it took for me to wake up, eyes having shot open, to find my heart pounding against my ribcage. And that is what classified the whole thing as a nightmare.

Once I finally registered that I was in my house, and that no newlywed couple was outside my window, I gave an annoyed sigh. What the fuck was that, and what did it mean? Well, wait, dreams tended to take material from your subconscious or something like that, right? Memories and knowledge that you have, but that aren't at the forefront of your mind?

That would explain everything perfectly. I'd made it a point not to think about the fact that Penny deserved Sam way more than I did, that she was an absolute angel for teaching the town's kids with no problem and probably made everyone else's lives so much better, that she totally liked him…

Fuck, now I was thinking about it. And it sucked ass.

Deciding I didn't really want people seeing me down at all, especially Sam, I decided today would be a quartz-gathering day. Underground, nobody could hear you writhe in the agony that was unrequited love.

The sun was very much down by the time I emerged from the mines, but it being winter, it was still only 5.

I wondered what Sam was up to, and quite frankly missed him a bit. Was he strumming some aimless melodies on his guitar? Shooting the shit with Sebastian and Abigail?

…Did I have any right to wonder this? What the hell was I doing in this spot? I wasn't supposed to be the one wondering what Sam was up to with love in my heart. I felt like I was intruding on one of destiny's love stories, where Penny was meant to be the girl with the flowing hair and the heart of gold that Sam, the dashing young musician, falls madly in love with.

There was a weight in my heart, I was sad, and everything felt stupid. Even my self-doubts felt stupid. The problem, though, was that any self-motivation felt stupider.

…Was this the kind of thing that made people go "Fuck it, I need a drink" and head right to the bar?

There was a bar in the city I'd always wanted to stop by. My dropping everything to move to Stardew Valley had happened, though, before the chance arrived.

But why not just go to the saloon that's less than a hundred paces away? Because the exact guy I'd be drinking over could have been there, that's why. Even if he wasn't, other denizens of Stardew Valley would be. To be honest, I wasn't hyped about the idea of anyone who knew me seeing me at all right now, let alone seeing me trying to drink my emotions away. In the city, I'd be surrounded by strangers. Left to deal with my issues all by my lonesome.

So less than a half hour later, I was on the bus to ZuZu City.

Soon after, the lightshow that was ZuZu came into view. It was admittedly a little hard to see due to the bus's interior lights making the windows more like mirrors, but it was still unmistakable.

I once thought I'd be living in that vast expanse of lights and noise for the rest of my meaningless life. I'd forgotten how many people lived in ZuZu City, but I did know it was somewhere in the millions.

And how many people lived in Stardew Valley? No more than 30 or so?

Statistically, I should have fallen utterly and completely for someone in ZuZu City rather than Stardew Valley, right?

Mathematics aren't always absolute, then… because I'd met Sam among the valley's 30.

I pulled the cord to ask the bus driver to stop at the next stop, which waited right across the street from the bar I was venturing to. No doubt that countless drunks saw this stop as a godsend. In fact, as I stepped off, it looked like a man stumbled in through the other door in my stead.

Was my goal for tonight… to end up like him? Just maybe.

Surprisingly, for the time of night, the bar had nary but a few people in it, and one was clearly a regular from the way he was chatting with the bartender.

The bar itself was a pretty nice establishment. I'd only seen it from through the windows before now, and what had drawn me to it was how… cyberpunk everything looked. There was a pool table on one side, and even a single slot machine on the other. Did the cyberpunk aesthetic come from the purple and blue color scheme in its lights?

I walked up and took a seat at the far end of the bar, then reached into my purse for my wallet so I'd be ready to hand my ID over.

"I dunno how much longer I can afford to keep giving Harold food," the regular was saying to the bartender. "I know he's got nowhere to go and everything, and he's a great dude. This is just seriously starting to cut into my paycheck, which is already Yoba-awful."

"What are you giving him, T-bone steaks?" the bartender asked.

"Sandwiches from the gas station across the street, thank you," the regular replied. "What am I supposed to do, trust he'll survive on a tiny bag of chips that's half air anyway?"

The bartender looked over and saw me.

"Hang on, Reg, I gotta attend to this young lady over here," he said, walking over to me.

I wondered how long this guy had been in the business, if he had both regulars and hair as white as the snow outside.

"Can I see some ID?" he asked.

I handed it over and he checked it, seeing I was indeed allowed in here.

"What'll it be?" he asked, handing it back to me. "…I'll be honest, you look like you've had a straight-vodka kinda day."

"I-Is it that obvious?" I asked. Well, damn, I thought I'd hidden it pretty well.

"Your eyes are all bloodshot in a few places," the bartender said.

"Well, then," I replied. "…Laugh all you want, but what's your sweetest drink?"

"That'd be the Sex on the Beach," the bartender answered without missing a beat. "Vodka, peach schnapps, orange juice, and cranberry juice."

"Start me with one of those," I said.

Soon enough, it was sitting in front of me. A Sex on the Beach, a pink cocktail with an orange slice on the glass. I took a sip.

This would do the trick just fine. Alcoholic fruit juice, take me away from this land of unrequited love and onto… the beach, maybe. For… sex or something?

I'd consumed three of the things before I felt anything, anything being a Yoba-damned dam about to break.

Basically, suddenly, tears. They were forming in my eyes faster than I could hold them back. My breathing was hitching before I even realized it.

I'd come here to feel numb, not to feel more… but here I was. And I completely should have seen it coming. If this wasn't failing as hard as possible, I didn't know what was.

My face had already contorted to an expression similar to an infant's, and I was still in this bar, where people could see me. This wasn't good; I had to act fast.

I quickly dug through my purse for my wallet, and in seconds, I had the gold for the drinks set on the table, and I was out the door and down a side alley.

Snow was falling now. It was the best kind, the fluffy kind that made no noise as it floated softly to the ground. The city in the snowfall should have been like something out of a dream, a scene to be savored. However, I was currently sitting against the bar wall and sobbing harder than I'd sobbed in years.

I spent the next ten minutes or so trying to cry all my tears out, thinking about how crazy it was that life could have been completely different if I'd stood one millimeter to the left, or spoken with a slightly higher-pitched voice.

Maybe, if I'd stood one millimeter to the left when I'd walked into Joja's corporate building for the first time, I could have been their CEO. Possibly, if my voice had been slightly higher-pitched when I'd spoken to my grandfather for the last time… oh, Yoba, if he could see me now, by the way… he would have given the farm to someone else, and I'd have gone back to school.

Because I'd talked exactly how I'd talked, though… walked the exact steps I'd walked… made the decisions I'd made… I was outside a bar in ZuZu City, in the cold, crying over how little I deserved Sam's love. How much more Penny deserved it than me. How even if Sam and I ended up fucking the shit out of each other someday, he'd just be doing it to be nice.

How selfish I thought I was for not being 100% okay with that.

Suddenly, a voice.

"You okay? …No one hurt you, right?!"

What the hell kinda decisions had I made in life for Sebastian to be standing over me? No kidding, I was so baffled that my tears dried up for a sec.

"W-What are you doing here?" was all I could think to ask.

"I could ask you the same thing myself," he answered. "But seriously, did anyone hurt you?"

"…N-No, I'm fine," I answered. "But what are you doing here?"

"Nope, you first," Sebastian demanded. "I'm just taking a ride to the city, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Stardew Valley's farmer girl absolutely bawling her eyes out by a bar."

"…Touché," I said.

At this point, he walked over to my left and sat down by me. He then reached into his pocket and withdrew his good ol' cigs and a lighter.

"I don't feel like getting into it," I sighed. "But… love sucks, basically."

"Seconded," he replied, lighting a cigarette. "…Wait, you don't like me, do you?"

"Oh, no, no, not like that," I assured him. "Don't worry."

"Okay, good," he said, clearly relieved.

The tears that had dried almost seemed to materialize again. I hid my face in my arms and tried not to make any noise. Someone was here now, and his being a friend of mine didn't give him any sort of special privilege to see me cry.

He didn't say anything as I tried to compose myself, but I had reason to believe he was looking at me.

This entire moment could have been made into a little animation for a lofi stream or something. The snowfall, the occasional car going by, some barely audible guitar music coming from within the bar… and Sebastian watching me try not to cry again. In retrospect, it was all pretty poetic.

After a minute or so, though, he took a rather deep breath. I was expecting the smell of his smoke, but it never came.

What came instead, after a good few seconds, was "I… kinda have a thing for Abigail."

"Oh yeah?" I responded.

The words "I KNEW IT!" were echoing off the walls of my skull. I momentarily wished Sam could have been here to hear that, too.

"I've known her for years," Sebastian continued. "She's been through some shit, and I was by her side through it all… and I want to be with her through everything that's probably still yet to come. I want to celebrate her achievements with her, help her fight the bad days, and all that. She's such a beautiful person… always has been… She's helped me through a bunch of shit, too, and I could never thank her enough. I… I dunno."

He stopped speaking for a good few seconds. Right as I opened my mouth to talk again, though, he continued his piece.

"On top of that, everyone likes Maru way too much," he ranted. "Today, I tried to build a snowgoon, but Demetrius made me take it down. Meanwhile, Maru builds one, and it's all hunky-dory! Hers goes unharmed! It's ridiculous! She's putting on an attention-grabbing scam, I swear!"

I opened my mouth to tell him that I agreed that was unfair, but he continued talking. He seemed to be on a roll with a bunch of shit he needed to get off his chest, so I figured it would be better to let him speak.

"Who does Demetrius even think he is, telling me what to do?!" he asked. "He's not even my real father! He didn't raise me! What makes him think he has the right to just walk into my life and tell me how to live my life?!"

At this point, he finally stopped. During his rant, my tears had stopped, and I was able to look over at him. With puffy eyes, granted, but at least I wasn't crying anymore.

"I just…" he said, his fire of rage starting to weaken. He then looked over at me. "…I'm sorry."

"No, don't be," I insisted. "You're going through some shit. Your feelings on the issue are perfectly valid."

"…Thanks," he replied. "I guess… you're dealing with your own mess, and I just unloaded all my baggage onto you."

"Sebastian, it's fine," I said. "Actually, I'm happy you talked to someone about it rather than keeping it bottled up. Now, are you looking for advice, or did you just need a listening ear?"

Sebastian turned his head to face the opposite wall, thinking over that last question.

"…I guess some advice would be okay," he finally sighed. "You don't seem like someone who'd try to preach a bunch of bullshit that's supposed to fix all my problems overnight."

"Ugh, I hate those people," I nodded. "Though, I used to be one of them. I hope I've gotten better, though."

I sniffled, trying to clear my sinuses.

"And, of course, it's up to you what you do," I said. "But… it seems like, if you're looking for a solution, that's going to lie in communication. Maybe sitting down with each member of your family and voicing how you feel, calmly and rationally, would help."

"I don't think they'd listen, though," said Sebastian, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"You never know until you try… as cliché as that sounds," I said. "Would you rather take the chance that your family will understand how you feel and take your feelings more into consideration, or keep it a certain thing that those feelings will go unheard? That's up to you."

Sebastian didn't say anything, but exhaled smoke.

"And, if I can offer my two cents about your feelings for Abigail," I continued. "It seems like you're pretty sure of them. There seems to be no doubt in your mind that you have a love for her that makes you want to take your relationship further. Am I wrong?"

"No," said Sebastian.

"…And, I mean, this is just my take, the opinion of someone who likes being upfront about things whenever possible," I said. "But… maybe it's time you tell her how you feel."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Sebastian replied, in a bit of a grumble.

"If it makes it easier, don't think about the confession as a lavish proposal to try to win her heart," I said. "Maybe… think of it more like… just… telling her what's up. What you've been going through. Don't make her give you an answer right away. Tell her you like her the same way you'd tell her you had mushroom casserole for dinner last night. Well, maybe a bit more carefully than that, but still. Just like 'Hey, so… I've actually liked you for a while. Take that as you will, I don't need an answer right now, but… I just wanted you to know how I feel.'"

"…Have you…" Sebastian asked. "…I've never heard advice like that before."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" I asked.

"Sure," said Sebastian. "…Thank you. Really. I'll… I'll tell her when I'm ready."

"Only when you're ready," I nodded. I made a mental note to try to discourage Sam from any further get-those-two-together shenanigans.

The snow hadn't let up, but there was this beautiful ballad playing from inside the bar now.

"Heh…" said Sebastian. "When the new farmer moved in, I didn't think I'd be getting love advice from her."

"You never know what'll happen in life," I smiled. "And that's what I love so much about it."

"You love life, huh?" asked Sebastian. "That's… kinda hard for me."

"It can be hard for me, too," I told him. "There are days when I think about dying, thinking that's the only way out of the pain I'm feeling."

"Same," he sighed, puffing on his cigarette again. I wondered if he'd ever thought about quitting smoking. I hoped so.

"But… yeah," I said. "That's what I've got to say."

"…Love sucks," he replied. "You only ever get hurt."

"You get hurt for the pursuit of happiness," I shrugged.

"But how often does love actually turn out well?" he asked.

"You hear stories all the time about old couples that loved each other until their dying breaths," I answered. "I haven't experienced it myself, but from others' accounts, I know true love exists."

"Keep telling yourself that," Sebastian quipped.

"…What did you just get done saying about Abigail?" I countered. "Don't even try to tell me that's not love you've got for her."

"You like someone, don't you?" Sebastian countered back. "And now, you're slumped against the wall of a bar crying your eyes out. Have… Have you been drinking, by the way?"

"Yeah, I've had a few," I answered. "I don't think I'm drunk, though. Buzzed, at most, and I feel like I've cried all the alcohol out at this point."

"You didn't drive here, did you?" he asked.

"No, took the bus," I answered. "…Speaking of which…"

I checked my watch.

"There's not another one coming for an hour, is there?" I sighed. "Damn."

"I can drive you back, if you want," Sebastian offered. "I came here on my motorcycle."

"Oh, cool," I said, starting to freak out over the prospect of riding a motorcycle for the first time. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd appreciate that, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"I'd rather that than you waiting here alone for the bus," he said. "This probably isn't news to you, but this isn't the safest place to be at night."

"Oh, trust me, I know," I replied. "…Speaking of which, thanks. Thanks for being here. I… I feel like such a pussy, crying like this."

"You kidding?" he asked. "I cry myself to sleep probably twice a month."

I felt the impulse to offer a hug, which was only shot down by the fact he wasn't a hugger.

"But still…" I said. "You didn't have to stay here with me."

"Well, for one, I'm not leaving you alone in this part of town at night," Sebastian replied. "And for two… well… I guess I needed this. You're the first person I've actually unloaded all my life problems on like that." He turned to look me straight in the eyes. "Normally, I get anxious around other people, but… that doesn't happen with you."

"O-Oh?" I replied. I'd never been told that sort of thing before, at least not by someone who meant it.

"I'll admit, I was ranting about my problems before I knew it," he said, rubbing his neck with his free hand. "I guess… I feel like I can trust you."

"I-I'm glad to hear that," I smiled. "In that case, if you ever need someone to talk to, just come find me."

"Thanks," said Sebastian. "…Back at ya, I guess."

"Thank you," I said. "That means a lot."

We sat there for another minute or so, watching the snow fall. After that, though, the cold was starting to seep through my coat, and not only did I want to get warm…

"I wanna cuddle my cat," I said. "If you're ready to go, I guess I'm ready."

"Yeah, I should probably be getting home, too," Sebastian said, standing up.

Standing up myself, I asked "I know it's a bit late for me to be asking this, but… isn't it a bit cold to be riding a motorcycle?"

"I didn't have the capacity to give a shit tonight," he answered. "I needed to get the fuck away."

"Fair enough," I shrugged.

"It's over this way," he said, before walking out of the alley and taking a left.

He hadn't parked far from where we'd been. Had my cries drowned out the sounds of a fucking motorcycle when he'd gotten here with it?

"Have you ridden a motorcycle before?" he asked.

"'Fraid not," I sighed.

"Sit in the back and grab onto these handles here," he told me, pointing to a couple of black handles. "It'll help me if, when I turn, you lean the same direction I'm leaning, too."

"Alright," I said.

Before I knew it, he was in the driver's seat. I took a deep breath and sat in back and grabbed onto the handles, like he'd instructed. I was a bit startled by how close the handles were to Sebastian's body, but being worried about that would only make things more awkward, so I tried to consider it as normal as possible.

I hadn't expected to be riding a motorcycle for the first time tonight, but it certainly made the night better than it was looking to be otherwise.

"Oh, and…" said Sebastian. "Whoever this lucky person is, they're an asshole for making you cry."

I couldn't hold back a hearty laugh in response to that. After all, Sebastian had essentially just called his best friend an asshole.

Really, the only uncomfortable thing about the ride back was the freezing air hitting my face, and Sebastian was getting most of that. I was grateful he was there to act as a windblock. Everything else was… what I could only classify as an experience; motorcycles had always been an icon of badassery to me, and that stance didn't change when I felt like a badass being aboard one. I wondered how Sebastian must have felt when he'd driven this thing for the first time. Didn't he say he'd bought it with his own money, too?

On top of that, all that freezing air made hiding under all my blankets, with Laslow by my side, feel all the better.

I probably needed all that just as much, if not more, than Sebastian did.