Lightning-Dono: I'm so sorry for the lack of updates, you guys. But I got a new computer and I'm on a 60-day trial with Microsoft Word and I had to use the computer for projects and some one-shot fics I wanted to write. Sorry! But I will continue this! My writer's block is long gone.

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Third of Fall

I feel pathetic. In my mind, I realize that I can't stop Gustafa from giving his immediate opinion when I popped a question like that so suddenly. But there was no hesitation between my question and his response, no stuttering, no…random serenade bursting from his lungs. It was ridiculously short, forthright, and honest.

I still wish that he had lied. I know that it's dishonest and that I would never have known how he really felt, but he sunk my ship. Now I have no one to use my image to impress and I feel no worth in waking up in the morning to get dressed, comb out my hair, and even engage in the simple act of eating. All I want to do is lie in bed, scorn his very existence and seethe about how annoying Jack is. But regardless of my condition, I can't stay in bed for long so before I knew it I was dressed this morning and walking out the door and towards the bar. But not even a drink quelled my raging emotions.

Naturally, Jack was lurking in a corner of the bar, sipping on a Moon Trip with gusto, and when I stepped into the cramped bar, the first thing he did was smile at me with his startlingly white teeth. Usually, I would have turned and walked in the other direction. It didn't matter now. I didn't have to be loyal to anyone, didn't have to hold up my standards. Right now, I was a lonely, loveless woman with a heart to full of hatred for love and I was sure that even if Jack tried to force his way in, I'd block it somehow.

Then I remembered that Gustafa often visited the bar in the mornings, so I stood up and took my drink out the door when Jack started following me. Not with his eyes or jerking his head forward with his smile to grin at me, but he actually got up, poured his drink into the fake plant's pot and followed. Sometimes I get the impression that he's just doing it for attention, but this time he looked intent on something – as though he were on some sort of mission to stalk me. Make that a suicide mission to stalk me. I was very much tired of seeing his face swell with pride whenever he forced me into something or whatever he wanted to do. It was enough that he hadn't already tripped over a rock and speared himself with the blunt end of his sickle, but now he was plaguing me with his presence. In love or not, I wasn't willing to tolerate him coming with me and pilfering my room at night, trying to jump me when I went around corners or whatever other sorts of crap he had planned for me. I didn't consider my life that doomed that I would let him have such control.

So I decided to stand up to him. I haven't a clue why I hadn't done this before, but seeing his oddly clean denim overalls every time I turned my head just slightly while Celia dress was pockmarked with dirt stains irked me to the limit. He should've been at home tending to his nonexistent crops, because I wasn't letting him get by with this.

When I turned around to confront him, he looked as though he were in shock, like he had just seen me disintegrate on the spot or melt.

Me: "So, how far do you plan on following me."
Jack: "I'm not following you." With this, he started trying to trace something in the cobblestone. It was as though he carried a bright pink neon sign proclaiming "NERVOUS". "This is how I get home."
Me: "And you're walking behind me for what reason?"
Jack: "Because this is how I get home." What a great reason.
Me: "Then go on ahead." At this precise moment, I stepped aside for him to pass.
Jack: "All right, I wanted to talk to you! Just stop making me look like a fool."

At this, I was surprised. I expected him to continue his claims of trying to get home. What could he want to talk about? Nevertheless, I was ready to give him a smack if he decided that he should propose to me. In fact, even if there was a flash of blue with a spine and feathery cerulean material coming out of his pocket, I'd smack him anyway. Now that I think about it, perhaps I was merely in a bad mood, but now I realize that I was retracting from society. As if I wasn't already anti-social enough.

Me: "Go ahead and say it. I don't really have the time to wait for you to keep stalling."

I couldn't believe what he said next, really. I'll say why later.

Jack: "Can you stop ridiculing me? I'm really tired of it! Whenever I come near you, you're always pulling out sarcastic remarks and using them against me. And you're impatient, you won't listen to me…"

You know what, that was infuriating. He spurs all of the misfortune I bestow upon him. Honestly speaking, maybe he didn't deserve everything he got, but if I had just let walk him all over me without reacting, he would have. I was positive that if someone had tried to give him rancid milk, he wouldn't have maintained his patience around them, either. And if someone had attempted to push him down the town well, he probably wouldn't be so keen to hang around them anymore, either. It was amazing how he didn't incorporate his own faults into this. Didn't he realize what he did at all or was he possessed by some evil spirit as he did these things? It frightens me to know that there are actually people like him in the world.

Me: "But do you think there is a reason why?"
Jack: "What did I do?"

The guy had issues beyond all understanding. You didn't have to take AP Psychology in order to learn how people behave and act. This was basic. Or perhaps I'm just exceptionally bitter because of Gustafa.

Me:"What do you think you did?"
Jack: "I was trying to be your friend!"
Me: "Oh, well I can come up with many things that you have done that weren't very friendly."
Jack: "I was trying. Everyone screws up! No one's perfect."
Me: "I'm sure giving someone spoiled milk is 'trying'."
Jack: "Hey, maybe I might not be bright in your eyes, but at least I want to make friends."

This really hurt. It wasn't like I didn't want to make friends, I just didn't make the effort to because I wasn't used to being social. I was naturally a wanderer. If I became too attached to a person in some place, I wouldn't be able to move on. It'd ruin the entire pattern of my life. But what was I wandering for? I wanted to find a sense of belonging, but only in those I bothered to trust. Frankly, Jack wasn't one of them.

Me: "I'll make friends. Just…not with you." And even being a cold person, I found that rude.
Jack: "Fine. I'll go."

Now, along with my anger towards Gustafa, I'm guilty because of Jack.

Looks like my favorite time of year has been ruined after all.