by AcinBC
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harvest Moon. I do not own any lyrics that are written, and if I do, I will say so. I do no own the album or any of the songs this story is based on. I do not own any of the characters, just the situations I put them in and the personalities I give them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another two months have passed, my friends. Ah well. I am glad to have a few devout readers. I thank you so much to all who have reviewed, and I will try and reply as soon as possible. My life has been extremely busy, and I was only able to finish this chapter because of the week off for Thanksgiving Break. Life has been complicated. I am so busy; it's crazy. I had received a question on what album this story is based off of, and I would like to answer it. The story is based off of the album "I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning" by the band Bright Eyes. The story follows the songs almost exactly, and almost every random one liner probably comes from the song each chapter is based. The chapter names are the particular song's titles, and since there are ten songs on the album, there will be ten chapters. Everyone will probably hate the ending, but it's already been planned out and written. I wrote the last chapter a long time ago, before I decided to turn this story into a Harvest Moon fanfic. Anyways, I apologize for my sluggishness in posting this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy. :)
Chapter 4:
Lua
"I know that it is freezing, but I think we have to walk," Conner said as he pulled on his sneakers. He was watching the elegant Karen pull a divine outfit onto her slim body. They had spent the past few days shopping, sleeping, and drinking. The distance between them had grown smaller as they spent every waking moment with one another. Conner had on a slim, black, tweed coat with a white dress shirt on underneath and a black tie. His hair was shot all over the place; it hadn't been washed in three days, and his eyes were already glazed.
"That'll be fine," replied Karen. The massive white pearls around her neck and the bracelets piled on her wrists jingled as she moved. Her hair was pulled back into a chic but disorganized bun. Her lips were pure and red. Her face was a painted cake; New York had changed her. She needed to get back where she belonged. Tonight would be the celebratory party for the two heading back to Mineral Town if all worked well. The dainty black dress pulled across her body was stunning. She never looked more beautiful, but Conner found himself missing her cuteness.
"I keep waving at the taxis; they keep turning their lights off," Conner moaned as they made their way down a frosty sidewalk. The wind blew their frayed bodies as Conner waved at the fourth taxi driving by. Karen reached for Conner's hand as goose bumps formed on her arms; the dress was sleeveless. She had no coat.
"But Julie knows a party at some actor's west side loft."
The two huddled together as they made their way down the frozen streets to the apartment. They were late. Not so fashionably. Conner said his "hey's", "how ya been's", and "good seeing ya's" as he made his way to the liquor. He poured Karen and himself a martini as he introduced his date to his friends.
Throughout the night, bottles broke, music played, and conversations competed for space. Conner was always trying to look for a corner or a quieter part of the room. He huddled in a corner near the stairs as he watched Karen, the drunk Karen, the life-of-the-party Karen, the new Karen, the New York Karen, the not his Karen; there's no heat in the house. He pulled his sleeves up around his hands as he sipped down his fifth, or maybe sixth, straight shot of vodka. Just to keep warm of course. He reached for the whiskey in his velvet flask; he was getting cold again. The two drinks didn't mix too well. His insides burned. Up they came onto the tiled floor. He headed to a new corner.
Conner found himself sitting on a loveseat next to the staircase. He couldn't breathe with all of the words in his mouth, but he decided not to say any of them to the people passing by—he's made that mistake before. On the stairs, a blonde beauty grabbed his arm.
"What's up? Where you been? Is something wrong?" She looked concerned. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.
He tried to smile and then said, "Everything's fine."
Hours later. He was near the stairs, or were those couches, or stools? Trip, fall, crash.
"Supplies are endless in the evening, by the morning they'll be gone," Conner muttered as he finished his whiskey and passed out.
Conner woke to a splitting headache and Karen gone. He pulled himself up off the floor, stepped over bodies lined across the floor like army men shot dead on D-Day, and tried to find the girl of his dreams. He searched upstairs and downstairs and couldn't find her. He tried to call her, but the dial tone on his phone made his eyes water. Conner slipped two bottles of alcohol into his coat as he made his way out into the sunshiny day.
It was one of those nippy spring days where the sun feels good on your skin, but the shadows are chilly. He enjoyed pulling up and down his sleeves depending on where his next step took him. He eventually reached his apartment, empty.
"When everything gets lonely, I can be my own best friend," he told himself. He put the liquor in its proper place and started coffee. The clock read nearly seven am. It was too early to do anything, but too late to go back to sleep. He sighed and walked into his bathroom, undressed, and took a warm, soothing shower. That always soothed him when he was hung over. Always hung over, always taking warm showers. He got out, threw up his insides, and then went to pour his coffee.
"Just get a coffee and the paper; have my own conversations," he encouraged himself. The day could go okay without Karen, right? He had lived several months alone before her arrival, right? That was living… right?
Conner got his mail and the newspaper and read all of them. He read the entire paper for once and even paid his bills. He walked around the house tidying up the messes he had made, throwing up every half-hour or so. He made pot after pot of coffee throughout the day. He fixed the sink, did the dishes, and washed his clothes. He vacuumed the carpets, dusted everything, and went OCD on where he put everything. The apartment felt more amiable.
"With the sidewalk and the pigeons and my window reflection," he listed things to do. He went outside and swept the sidewalk that led to the entrance of his apartment building. Not sure why since it's not his. He took a walk to the park and fed the pigeons. He came home and stared out the window. He watched people for fun. He scoffed at them to his reflection. He made fun of their outfits and their demeanors and their partners or their lovers. Everyone is such a loser.
"Everything's gonna be alright. She'll walk through that door," he glanced at the clock, "any minute now." He watched the door. He re-vacuumed. He mopped. He made his bed. Drank coffee. Slept. Smoked a few packs of cigarettes. Sold meaningless items and made a lot of cash. Bought more cigarettes, coffee, and alcohol. Smoked. Drank spiked coffee. Glazed his eyes. Fell asleep. Woke up. Not much else to do when you're alone.
She still wasn't home.
Conner squinted at the clock. It was now ten pm. "It's okay." … Plus thirty minutes.
"Everything will be fine." … Plus forty-five minutes.
"She'll come home any time now." … Plus an hour.
"Yeah." …
After two more hours of waiting for her, Conner sighed and stared at his TV.
"The mask I polish in the evening, by the morning looks like shit." He couldn't convince himself otherwise, got depressed, and fell into a deep slumber.
Conner woke up to his alarm clock screaming. He reached to turn it off and entered the kitchen to find Karen belligerently smoking a cigarette. He cleared his throat, and she turned her head.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," she replied. Conner poured himself some coffee Karen had made and sat down.
"So, uh, where ya been?" he said after settling himself comfortably with a newspaper in his hands.
"Here and there. Didn't accomplish much," she sighed. "Well, uh. I'm gonna take a shower and get dressed."
"Okay," Conner responded.
She made her exit from the room and the shower came on. Conner sighed and rubbed his hands through his hair. Taking one step forward but two steps backward, the tension in the house grew.
Karen came back an hour later with little but a towel on. She sat down across from Conner.
"I lov—" "I wanna lea—" Conner and Karen said at the same time, respectively.
"You first," Conner insisted. She smiled sincerely as her wet hair fell unkemptly.
"I think I'm ready to head back to Mineral Town, Conner. We've spent nearly two weeks here, and I'm eager to get home. I'm sure everyone's worried."
"Yeah," he said, disenchanted, "I agree."
"Alright. We can leave the day after tomorrow," she paused as the awkwardness flourished. "What were you going to say?"
"Oh, uh. It's not important. Do you want to leave sooner?"
"No. I want to celebrate leaving, again, just the two of us this time. How 'bout it?"
Conner's heart warmed "Sounds good."
The two spent the rest of the day talking as little as possible. Karen often stared at her window reflection while Conner read or cleaned. Karen walked towards Conner and gave him a delicate kiss on the lips, indifferently.
"And I know you have a heavy heart," Conner said to Karen that evening as they lay together in bed before going to sleep, "I can feel it when we kiss. So many men stronger than me have thrown their backs out trying to lift it, but me I'm not a gamble you can count on me to split."
"The love I sell you in the evening," they both whispered, "by the morning won't exist." And they fell asleep with glum thoughts on their minds. Karen let a tear trickle down her cheek as they said goodnight on their own separate sides like brothers on a hotel bed.
That night Conner dreamt of Mineral Town. He didn't see much satisfaction in going back there besides continuing the life his mother had started. One-day maybe the farm would be back to normal, but as for now, Conner wasn't so sure.
"You're looking skinny like a model with your eyes all painted black," Conner said that next evening as the two dined at a fancy French restaurant. Karen had a stunning black dress on that she said she got when she was away. The dress tied around her at about her shoulder blades, but from her low spine up there was no part of the dress. One could see her ribcage as she breathed. Karen's brown hair with blonde highlights was slightly pulled back into a loose bun with curly strands falling out of the ponytail holder. A few curly bangs got loose from behind her ears as she ate. Her pearly necklace and earrings weren't her at all. The black mascara and eye shadow consumed her eyelids. He had to admit, she did look beautiful, but it wasn't her. New York had slapped Conner in the face making him miss Mineral Town, but it had consumed Karen.
Conner wore a the same white dress shirt, black tie, black pants, and black blazer, but he had a red rose boutonnière pinned to his overcoat. He rested his head on his palm as he stared into Karen's eyes.
"What?" she asked furiously "is there something in my teeth?"
"No," he replied timidly.
He sipped some more wine. Three glasses? No, four. Or three bottles? He chewed on the bland food he couldn't afford. Karen nibbled her food like a chipmunk, always taking a sip of water after swallowing half a forkful of food. Nibble. Nibble. You stupid chipmunk.
Karen stood up and placed her napkin on the table.
"I'll be right back," she smiled.
"You just keep going to the bathroom, always say you'll be right back," he whispered to himself as he poured himself another glassful of wine. His mouth was numb. His tongue was a sponge. His gums were enflamed. His eyes were watering. He cheeks were red. His forehead was hot. His chest was cold. His hands were shaking. His legs couldn't stop moving. He was worthless. A worthless drunk. He sighed.
Karen came back and finished not even one-third of her large plate before excusing herself to the bathroom again. She then chugged her water and then attacked the wine.
"Well, it takes one to know one, kid; I think you got it bad," he said to her as she returned from the bathroom again.
"What does that mean?" Conner sighed and just shook his head.
"Nothing. Nothing. You through?"
"Yes," she said as she corked the wine bottle and slipped it into Conner's jacket, "I think I need this more than they do." Conner rolled his eyes.
They walked toward the park where they shared chugs from the wine bottle. Karen rested her head on Conner's shoulder with his blazer draped around her shoulders.
"You know," she slurred, "I thought I was in love with you. You and I are so alike; it's insane." Conner looked up. His eyes were burning. Bags were forming around her eyes as the make-up wore off. Wrinkles formed. No one looks pretty when they're drunk.
"You're, you're drunk, Karen. Shut up," he garbled in reply.
"No, really. I did. I dunno. Then I left that one-day and got boned by some random guy. Yeah, and he, he threw me against the wall that morning. And, I dunno." Within a few minutes she fell into a drunken stupor upon his lap. He could tell she had lied. No one tells the truth that unsubtly. He stroked her hair with tears rolling down his cheeks burning the pores.
"I loved you, too," he leaned back to prepare himself for sleep on the hard, wooden bench, "but what's so easy in the evening, by the morning's such a drag."
"I've got a flask inside my pocket; we can share it on the train," Conner said as he dragged his small duffel bag with Karen's suitcases. She was trying to walk a straight line on their way to the train stop. It was a game for her. Always a game. Everything was a game to her. He can't stand her. Her sunglasses were large and pretty much ate her face. They were white, encrusted with diamonds. "And if you promise to stay conscious, I will try and do the same," he continued.
They were wearing comfortable sweaters and scarves as they dilly-dallied around buying their tickets. Conner didn't pay her way. Spring had already arrived, and they weren't too eager. Spring is too warm, too happy.
In a matter of minutes they found themselves seated on a run-down train. The seats were blue with derogatory comments written in black marker. The seats also had holes slashed into them. She was leaning against the window, her glasses covering her face. It amazed Conner how many times he thought she had never looked more beautiful. He said it to himself constantly, especially this time as she wiped a few strands of hair from her brow. She sniffed a little here and there but mostly kept her peace and sipped the scotch in the black velvet flask. He was getting tired of this vague quietness. It had been like this since they woke up to sprinklers splashing them with freezing, soggy water. They had made their way to his apartment in silence, packed in silence, and drank tea in silence. Everything was pretty messed up.
Conner watched Karen, never taking his eyes off her angelic skin. He noticed her reach into her pocket to pull out a small bottle. She turned away as she popped some pills and chugged them with bitter scotch.
"We might die from medication, but we sure killed all the pain," Conner said. She turned to look at him, sunglasses and all. All she did was nod. She was nothing. Thin, brittle, pale, sunglasses-ified. There was nothing to her. She was a traveling, wandering silhouette of a ghost, and yet, she never looked more beautiful.
Conner sighed as he leaned his head back to fall asleep. He was getting sick of this. As soon as Conner had fallen asleep, Karen took her sunglasses off. She stared at the man who looked more like a boy with his mouth wide open and enlarged, drunken tongue hanging out. He was so stupid, pathetic. And yet, he had never looked more beautiful. Karen softly kissed his cheek as she wiped the one-thousandth, nine-hundredth tear from her puffy eyes. Her mascara had bled off thousands of minutes ago. Her cheeks had lost all color. She was a bombshell of misery. A green-eyed lightning bolt. A sunrise and a sunset. The cataclysmic meteor coming to destroy earth. And yet, she never looked more beautiful.
Karen pulled her legs up on the seat with her and fell asleep in fetal position with her back to the window. Sunglasses on, with a cute, vogue scarf bought from some slaving, cuntwhore who slaughters animals for fur. At least it is colorful, like a rainbow. Conner woke up as she fell asleep. He kissed her cheek softly. Stop. Pause. End scene. Redo. Take five. Fall asleep. Other role, wake up. Kiss. Extra. Kiss. Sleep. End scene. Take six.
Conner sighed as he saw the stop for Mineral Town pulling up. He let Karen sleep. They had a few minutes before they would depart. He sighed again, but this time with words in his mouth, "But what was normal in the evening, by the morning seems insane."
And I'm not sure what the trouble was, Conner thought, that started all of this. He looked at Karen as he lugged their heavy baggage to Karen's home. The reasons all have run away, but the feeling never did. He sighed. I think too much. Stop thinking.
"So, uh," he mumbled, "what're you gonna do now?"
"Not sure. I guess go back to work."
"Yeah," Conner nodded as they passed many jaw dropped citizens. They whispered insincere nothings into each other's ears about the two. The customs of the town are old-fashioned. Thus, if a man and a woman run off together without supervision, it is believed they will have sex, and if they do not marry, then the woman is a tramp and the man is ungentlemanly.
They finally neared Jeff's superstore. They entered.
"Oh my God! Darling—" Sasha cut off, "Jeff! Come quick; Karen's home!" Jeff rushed in from the storage room in the back and gripped his daughter strongly. He hugged her and kissed her.
"Oh, Karen, we've been worried sick about you!"
"Never just up and leave on us again!" Sasha butted in. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, leaving in the middle of the night with that boy."
"Yeah, just act like I'm not here," Conner mumbled. "I'll be going Karen. I'll see you later."
"Oh no you won't! You get out of here. Scram!" Women.
Conner stalked back to his mother's house with his luggage. He passed degrading citizens, children playing and laughing as the hatred brewed from him like a pot of tea. He pulled open his door, slammed it shut when he was inside, and threw his things every which-away. He then retrieved his cornucopia of mail. He skimmed through the letters briefly. Apparently, he had missed three festivals and a load of petty drama. Conner unpacked hastily before scarfing down a loaf of bread for supper. He then grabbed his mother's old hammer, axe, and sickle from the toolbox. He set about cutting weeds, smashing rocks, and chopping wood that was in the farming area. The sky was burning. It was a board on an easel. It was a lush of colors painted magnificently. Reds, oranges, pinks, purples, blues, every shade of the rainbow. The wind blew his trashed body. He stalked about attacking all of the trash that had collected on the field. He malevolently did so.
"I'll show them!" Pound! "They don't know me!" Crack! "Damn them and their lies and their bullshit drama!" Slice! Tears poured down his face as he saw his mother laboring away at the same tasks. He beat the rocks to smithereens, hacked the lumber until there was nothing left, and destroyed all of the weeds. He threw all of the items aside as he had cleared a fifty by fifty cubic feet space to farm. It had taken him about three hours. He wiped the sweat from his brow and spit at the ground. He grabbed his hoe and slashed into the ground, tilling it for the seeds.
"Bastards! They don't know me." He screamed and hollered and cried. The rage, love, and sorrow all just poured out of him in one extreme ball of terror.
"Karen!" He smashed the ground. "You slut!"
"Sasha!" He smashed the ground. "You cunt!"
"Jeff!" He smashed the ground. "You timid fag!"
"Doug!" Smash! "You kindhearted fool!"
"Ann!" Smash! "You boy!"
"Carter!" Smash! "You douche!"
"MOM!" Smash! "You idiot!"
"YOU DON'T KNOW ME! My grief! My horror! My life is pathetic!" His voice changed to a more despondent, quiet mood. "It's not something I would recommend, but it is one way to live. 'Cause what is simple in the moonlight, by the morning never is. Damn it all!" He finished tilling the earth. He spread the few seeds his mother had left. They were probably dead. They wouldn't grow. He screamed out in fury. They won't grow. What's the point? Why live? Why create life when it only dies? He then filled the watering can and spread water over all the seeds. Finally, after three more hours at about 1:30 in the morning, he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. The crickets chirped. The cicadas cackled. The birds fluttered. Wolves howled. The wind blew. Trees rustled. Everything was wonderfully beautiful on this particular night.
A man can only take so much grief before he caves in. A profuse amount of emotions swirling around like protons, neutrons, and electrons in an atom can only last so long. But like the laws of physics tell us, matter can neither be created nor destroyed. Just like happiness in Conner. It can neither be created nor destroyed. It just exists. It may be there for one second, but then disappears, like in instances when the boy watches a movie with a happy ending that ties at the knot in his throat making him feeling nostalgic and happy. Or the happiness could last a long while like when he spent time with his mother or when he was on stage singing and doing what he loved. The boy is a poetic retelling of an unfortunate life. He is the epitome of hopelessness, hard work, and love. He won't tell you much. His feelings come in bursts of energy like that of a car switching gears. If his feelings do exist and are subdued, they will erupt like the volcano at Pompeii. Crash like the waves at Atlantis. Burn like the forest fires in California. Melt like the icebergs in the Arctic. Everything will erupt, explode, or die at one point or another.
As Conner lay there on the dirty ground in his cardigan, navy, v-neck sweater and wrinkled khaki pants, the moon shined over him. A Spring moon. A comfortable moon. Everything in life works out eventually, doesn't it? Karen sat at home in her window watching the same moon with the same tears about to dream the same dreams. In her pink sweater with her wrinkled skirt with her torn tights and her fur scarf.
"It was so simple in the moonlight, now it's so complicated." The stars twinkled sullenly, and men and women smiled in their sleep. But not Karen. And especially not Conner. The world is a dangerous place. People laugh and people cry.
"It was so simple in the moonlight, so simple in the moonlight…"
A/N: I have to say that I wrote the whole last two pages in a flurry. They came and just poured out of me, so I apologize for any puzzlement while reading this chapter. I enjoyed writing in chain of thought though, where you write what comes in to your mind write as it happens, which probably led to a few grammatical and spelling errors I missed. I really hope this chapter opened up some of the wholes in Conner. I hope you understand him a lot better because he is such a complicated character. Anyways, thanks to all who have reviewed. I always enjoy receiving one. Expect the next chapter in approximately two months.