A/N: This update came to me like a slap in the face. Well, a very elegant slap in the face, that is, haha. I thought the descriptions seemed a bit dry, but I'm glad people are liking them; it's a bit new for me, too. So…yeah…the plot will be taking off soon. Note the genre very prominently: romance/drama. -cough- DRAMA -cough- Heh, yeah, that'll be fun. Thanks for keeping up with the story, invisible stalkers and reviewing stalkers alike. It'd be nice if you told me what you thought. :D The chapters are starting to get longer too, as promised. Whew, it's nice to know SOMETHING is going right... well, read on...

Hooked.

--

Chelsea gazed around herself in wonder as Taro led her through the abandoned town. She hadn't really focused on the details of the island since she got here; she was either too shocked, dejected, zoned out, or too weak, stumbling instead of walking and staring at the ground as she trudged through it. But now, though her stomach was mostly empty, her body felt nurtured and her afternoon senses were keen as she absorbed every bit of detail.

The deserted buildings, consequentially, were not in shambles - they weren't even in very poor condition. It looked like whoever had ditched them simply got up and walked away. It was highly improbable, but a long time ago, the streets could've been bustling with people, selling exotic items for exotic prices, no individual voice heard among all the commotion… Chelsea could imagine it vividly, the flaming purple turbans of the merchants, fast-speaking foreigners bargaining as loudly as they could…

But now, in the present, which was all that mattered, it was mostly quiet, the birds chirping and fluttering as the sunbeams hit off their tiny wings. The gravel crunched with each step she and Taro took, the miniature pools of converged mud and rainwater on the ground having disappeared, liquid trickling off the trees, which were the purest green she'd ever seen. The sky was amazingly clear, such a contrast to the black and star-littered night in her dream. If anyone had ever asked her for a sky blue crayon in second grade, or described something as blue as the sky…this was what they were talking about. Definitely this. As if seeing through new eyes, Chelsea stared at the most beautiful thing she'd probably ever seen.

She just remembered what she was doing when Taro coughed absently into his palm. She wondered if his new living conditions tampered with his health, but she couldn't seem to voice her concern - it wasn't out of resentment, but she was never very good at expressing her emotions. Eye contact and obvious gestures were about as deep as she got.

"So, can I have a hint?" she asked dully as they travelled in silence, still staring at the sunlit scenery.

"Nope," Taro responded gleefully, and despite his cough, he sounded fit as a twenty year-old. "You'll absolutely love it, though, my darlin'."

She held in a sigh; she really had better things to do. She realized she'd forgotten to water her neglected crops this morning and a gloomy cloud settled over her, envisioning a withered pile of snapped stems when she returned to her farm. The golden glow of the sun seemed to dim a little as well, clouds flocking in front of it.

Taro misinterpreted her despondence. "Okay, okay, I'll tell you," he gave in a couple minutes later. "We're here, anyway."

Chelsea looked around in confusion, not having noticed the atmospheric change - the beach? Why were they at the beach? She stared at the horizon, then at the waves, and her cheeks reddened at the sight of the shore, exactly where she'd been sitting just yesterday, half-hoping to be swept away. It was hard to be believe those were the same waves that turned dark and grabbed at her ankles; they looked so innocent and…well, there was really no word to describe it. They lapped the shore softly, seeming careful not to disconcert even the sediment on the ground…it just looked so gentle. Nurturing and motherly, maybe, but that was a little overdoing it.

"You see that shack over there?"

Her head whirled around and she scanned the perimeter for a shack. A smallish building, in worse condition than the ones in the previous sector, was located near the entrance of the sandy beach. The windows were boarded up and the wooden door creaked as the wind blew it back and forth, in and out of the building.

"Hello? You see it?" Taro called exaggeratedly, and she was pretty sure he would've gotten up on tiptoe and knocked her on the head with his long wooden cane if she hadn't answered immediately after.

"Yeah, I see it."

"Well, it's all yours."

It took her a few seconds to realize the effect and meaning of what the old man had just said.

"Mine?" she repeated in shock. She did a double-take of the shack; she'd never felt any pull of desire when she first lay eyes on it. More like…a case of the shivers. It looked nightmarish, kind of like the overly-decorated, frivolous haunted houses she passed by on Halloween back in her hometown in the suburbs… Well, that might be exaggerating, but she definitely didn't want it.

Before she could voice her opinion, though, Taro twisted his cane timidly in his hands, giving her a gauging look. He suddenly looked undeniably guilty. "Well, I was talking with some people in town the other day, and they said they didn't think you were too fond of farming. I mean, I was totally convinced otherwise when I asked if you wanted to take up the job…but I guess not…so I'd like to give you this shack as…uh…reimbursement. And, of course, as an apology present."

So, like, yeah, sorry you hate your life now 'cuz of me an' all.

He might as well have said that; stuck it onto a piece of paper and taped it to her forehead. Because that was about how apologetic he sounded.

Nonetheless, Chelsea could see the direction of the compensation. "Well, thanks," she told him at length, glancing back to appraise the shack. Some livestock, a better watering can, plants that grew themselves, she could make do with. But a shack? What in the world could she do with a shack?

She was startled when she heard a faint groan in the near distance, bursting through her own aimless ideas. Her head snapped over to the horizon - was she going loopy? Had the waves just groaned or something? Had a fish just communicated with her in some magical language of sorts…?

"…Can't catch a thing," she heard bitterly, ending her paranormal misunderstanding on an embarrassing note. "Might as well throw this damn rod into the ocean, let the waves eat it up..."

Her heart caught in her chest, in the same sense as the empty hook at the end of the man's line. Because that was no stranger's voice she was hearing, no ocean's grumbling.

That was no anonymous tangle of dark brown hair or toasted skin or faded purple bandana or lean body or strong arms.

And lastly, she realized, that chocolate gaze was not foreign to her - her beating heart sank like a weight when those familiar eyes flickered back and locked onto hers.

Thud, thud, thud.

Why couldn't she remember how to breathe?

--

(Then.)

Denny muttered to himself as he strode down the road, considering just breaking into a run. He was coming back from foraging for berries - but only finding herbs - and was in a rather sour mood to begin with; not as sour as the herbs, however. He had bumped into an old man on the way, who he'd spoken to briefly once before, when he'd arrived on the island. The man seemed so sure of himself at the time, rather authoritative for someone in rolled-up overalls and a wooden cane - and Denny didn't like it one bit.

So when the old man asked head-on how his "favourite farmer" was doing, he snapped a little.

"What are you talking about?" His nerves had burst instantly, but he knew better than to jump to conclusions. There could be other farmers on the island…he wasn't for sure talking about Chelsea…

"Chelsea, of course." His teeth clicked as they snapped together, but the man didn't notice. "I'm heading over right now to go check up on her - she seems really fond of that farm, huh?" His face was only half artificial. The other half was merely naïve.

"Chelsea…" Denny spoke slowly, teeth gritted. Her weak, exhausted, drained body crumpled in his arms flashed in his mind in red. "Isn't as fond of farming as you think." Or don't think, he was tempted to add under his breath.

"Oh?" he replied pleasantly. "Why do you think that?"

He not-so-pleasantly replied, "Because she just flopped over half-dead on the beach last night from overworking, and I had to carry her back to her crappy farmhouse. I'm not sure if she was very sober, or a hundred percent alive -" 'Kay, calm down, you're not supposed to yell at old people…"but I can tell you this: she. Does not. Belong. On that farm."

He opened his mouth in shock. An unfitting, resolute look pasted on his face and his eyes narrowed into squints. "Are you threatening me?"

In reality, Denny wasn't threatening him at all. But now that he thought of it, the idea was pretty tempting. "Yeah," he invented flatly, leaning in a bit closer so their breaths mingled. "In fact, if you don't get her out of there by tomorrow, then…"

He hadn't finished. He'd simply pivoted and stormed away, just a little satisfied by the fleeting nervous shock on the old man's face.

Then, he entered the sands of the beach.

And fished.

--

(Now.)

He wasn't sure what exactly to say.

A few seconds ago he'd been bitterly, and rather immaturely cursing at the fish - or lack of fish - and now, he was staring into the endless eyes of the farmer he couldn't take his mind off of all day. In fact, just a little while ago, he'd been staring tentatively into the blue, blue waves of the ocean and thought he'd seen Chelsea's face in it - sick, he thought - and almost jumped in. Just almost.

And now here she was, in the flesh, eyes fixated upon him. She didn't look pleased to see him, and that irked him; in fact, she looked positively horrified.

"Uh…hey." He wanted to smack himself for the anticlimactic greeting. He noticed the old man behind her mutter something, cast him a steely glare, and then saunter off with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.

She was still frozen, and what was going on in her head, he hadn't the slightest clue, so he figured it was probably his cue to do something. Throwing his feet from over the edge of the dock and climbing up on his knees, he started nervously towards her.

"Didn't think I'd see you so soon."

Her mouth twitched, as if she were planning on saying something, but abruptly changed her mind.

"So…yeah. I was just over there, doing some fishing…okay, you can stop gaping at me like that; I get mad when I have to eat nasty sour herbs for lunch, okay?" He shot her a twisted grin, unsure if they were on casual enough terms to be allowed to joke around.

But her sudden, wide-mouthed smile answered the unspoken question for him. "I know exactly what you mean," she agreed in her small, almost whispery voice.

Smack, smack, smack.

He felt his heart ram against his chest with the force of a tuna fish trying to swim away with his bait. He smiled back, but faltered when he couldn't find the source of his sudden unsteadiness.

"You look kind of stiff…you okay?" His grin widened subconsciously as she blushed at his teasing, but inside, his head was swimming. He hoped she couldn't tell, but he was the abnormally stiff one. He was the one who couldn't budge an inch unless he was forcibly shoved.

He was the one who couldn't breathe.

--

A/N: Don't get me wrong: something I hate rushing above all is romance. They are not in love at first sight. They will not immediately elope and make babies, despite insane cheesiness. :D Review?