The end of spring blustered by with storms and gale force winds. It was easy avoiding everyone in such weather, and I enjoyed my time outside, drinking in the rain and petrichor. The sky crackled with lightning and the hills boomed with thunder. I felt alive, and the valley was my own private escape – void of people, it was free to loom and engulf me in its majesty.

The mountain caves served as my refuge when I was sick of being wet. I had worked my way quite far down, pushing myself from morning to midnight. Iron ore was my new cohort, and I realized that I would probably have to upgrade my pickaxe soon to deal with the harder, denser rock. It was magical, the frosty chill that permeated this lower section of the mines.

Some days I clung to the shores of the beach. I had run into Sebastian once accidentally, to his surprise, but I knew now not to venture onto the docks at the western edge of the beach. All at once the valley felt small and large. I didn't feel ready to come face to face with my demons, and far too many of them came to me with Sebastian's countenance. It was unfair of me to pin my hopes of friendship solely on him. I hadn't given everyone else a chance, and yet I couldn't shake it, the strange connection I felt to him.

My dad had managed to forward some money left to me by grandpa, and along with it, a number of my books and some trinkets. I would have to purchase a bookcase, but for now my things were strewn across the floor of my house – an obstacle course of memories enshrouded in that unique feeling of possession: mine, these things were all mine. Slowly, I was building a home here.

And so we entered summer, soggy and solitary. I allowed myself a visit to Pierre for seeds, but didn't see anyone on my way there and back. I wasn't sure if it was embarrassment that drove me or reclusiveness. I did not mind being alone, either way. If anything, I had learned to appreciate Dog's company during this time more than ever.

There was a funny kind of companionship that Dog provided. Just seeing him run around, careless and thoughtless brought a smile to my lips in spite of every dark notion and mood that possessed me. He was strangely self-sufficient, gulping down tufts of grass at the edges of our property, lapping up water from the pond at the southern end of our land. On the stormier days, he stayed in and together we would lounge by the fire. I would sometimes read aloud to him – not that I had become so deluded as to think he would understand me, but because he seemed to enjoy hearing my voice. Dog did everything he desired with almost reckless abandon. There was a purity in his unswerving loyalty that kept the beast in my heart at bay. I don't know how he did it, but Dog made sure that I knew that things were okay. My nightmares were few and far between now.

As summer dried up the remnants of spring with its brilliant blue skies and fiery rays, Dog kept to the outdoors more than the indoors, and I followed. What I hadn't been expecting was for him to try and herd me towards town. With his nose he would nudge my legs until I moved in that direction. I gave him a pleading look, but it became apparent that the lazy, dog days of summer were in full swing. I made it to the first Friday of summer before deciding resignedly to pay Robin a visit. I was starting to tire of having to pick my way through the array of books to my bed each night and so it was time to buy a bookcase, anyway.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" I asked Dog. "This is all your doing, you know."

He merely looked up at me with those onyx eyes and panted. His tail slapped the ground a few times, but he remained rooted to the spot.

"Alright, I'll see you later, then." I patted him on the head and he ran in a circle around me. I couldn't help but laugh.

I left my farm and headed up the path to the mountain. I took my time, there were new things to forage along the way – grapes, spice berries, sweet peas. My procrastination was a cover for my nervousness. It felt akin to meeting everybody for the first time again, except worse. I could no longer use newness as a guise for my awkwardness.

Too soon I was at Robin's front door. I hesitated a moment before entering, taking a deep breath to gather myself.

The interior had not changed in the week or so since I had been here. Robin smiled brightly at me from behind the counter. "Hi there, farmer."

"Hello, Robin. How are you?"

"I'm well. I've been dreaming up some new carpentry projects." I saw a hint of where her son got that ethereal, dreamy look from.

Fortunately she was selling a bookcase that day, and so I made my first furniture purchase. I knew my mother would be proud and I resolved to write her a letter when I got home.

"Oh, and Sebastian's home, if you're looking for him," Robin added as I handed over my 2000g for the bookcase.

"I wasn't, but thank you. Maybe I'll say hi." I put my wallet away. She gave me a confused and distressed look so I explained, "I just don't want to distract him from his work." And I kind of hate how much I blush when I'm around him, I added silently.

She nodded, relieved. "He and Demetrius were arguing last night. It got pretty nasty, and I tried to console him, but he withdrew into his room. I think he'd appreciate your company, though."

"Okay, I'll do my best," I said, and headed down the hallway. Goosebumps raised along my arms as I took the familiar turn onto the stairs leading down to the basement. I knocked on his bedroom door.

"Enter," he grumbled, a pang of tiredness cutting through his irritation.

I pushed the door open. "Hi."

He stopped and looked up abruptly, surprised and flustered. "Oh, hi."

"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you in case you were in the middle of something," I gestured at his computer, "but your mom mentioned that you were home."

"Yeah, it's not a problem. I'm between tasks right now."

"That's cool."

Our shared pause was pregnant with the unsaid questions neither of us risked asking. We stared at each other, and I knew that I would fall into the depths of his eyes if I kept looking, inching into them.

I looked away, allowing myself to pick my way closer to him without tripping over myself. "How have you been doing?" I asked, letting my gaze fall on him once more. He was wearing a black t-shirt again, which showed off his wounds. They were healing nicely, I was relieved to see.

He gave that half-shrug of his. "I've been better. You?"

"I've been busy. My crops have been needing my attention." It wasn't a complete lie. I let my hands rest on the back of the unoccupied computer chair.

"Cool."

There was a pained look in his eyes that sliced through my ego, and a stiffness in his tone that destroyed me. He was hurt, and perhaps my recent hermetic behaviour had been the cause. A sick part of me was delighted until I remembered what Robin had told me.

"Hey," I began, "I'm sorry for not coming by during the last little while."

"It's okay, you said you were busy." A hint of annoyance highlighted his statement.

I shook my head slowly. "That's not a worthy excuse. You don't deserve to take that kind of crap from me." I hesitated and debated with myself. I could be truthful with him, or I could be guarded. Even as I resumed speaking, I wasn't sure what I would tell him. "I don't want you to think that I was avoiding you because I don't like you."

He studied me as he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. I wanted to glance away just for a second, but the question was so plain in his eyes that I could not ignore it: So why? Why were you avoiding me? Am I so awful?

It was all my fault. I had made such a point of visiting him regularly, bringing him coffee from the city and asking about his work. I had portrayed this image of genuine caring – and I did care, I conceded, more than I should – but then I had gone cold on him. I was truly selfish.

"In all honesty," I could not stop my hands from twisting with anticipation, "I've been feeling weird since the Flower Dance." I had to look away and close my eyes for a second. My chest felt constricted, but I forced myself to breathe. I pretended that Dog was here with me, sitting by my side, encouraging me with his nose.

Sebastian said nothing and I couldn't read his expression. At least he hadn't ordered fire and brimstone to rain down on me. Tentatively, I continued, "There was something about seeing you guys all dressed up and dancing that felt like a punch in the gut. I'm an outsider, I know I am, but it was so much more real that day, and something snapped in me." I shook my head and scowled, "I couldn't stand to be around anyone after that. It wasn't that you guys all looked happy, because you didn't. It was that you all belonged in some way, and I didn't." The words spilled out of me, and I couldn't bear to look at him, not when my face felt hot and my eyes threatened to expose me.

Sebastian remained quiet as he processed what I said, but then he spoke. "I remember seeing you leave during the dance."

"You saw that? Shit." A fresh wave of shame washed over me and I ran my fingers through my hair.

He nodded. "It's okay, I get it. And you didn't miss anything anyway. I don't think anyone else knows."

"I'm sorry," I said again, pressing my lips together.

Sebastian's gaze softened, but I sensed a hesitance that persisted. "It's fine. I know that feeling, of being an outsider. I never considered what it would be like for someone like you trying to be part of things here."

I offered a ghost of a smile, letting my gaze reconnect with his once more. "In so many other cases I think it'd be fine. I don't know, it was just a particularly weak moment for me. And I don't want you to feel bad for dancing with Abigail instead," I added.

He grimaced. "We'll see next year. I dance with her because we were paired up together when we were kids. Neither of us even likes the damn dance. I don't know why she still goes along with it."

"Why do you?"

He shrugged once more. "It's something to do. Everyone else in town goes, and the town's so small that it'd be pretty obvious if someone wasn't there. There'd probably be gossip afterwards."

"I'll play hooky next year if you do."

Finally, I elicited a smile from him. "That's the best thing I've heard all week."

"It's confirmed then," I nodded sternly. "Next year we shall bow to no Flower gods."

He snickered, and it was the most glorious sound.

I was feeling a lot more energized now. I was glad to have confided in him. Perhaps we could resume our almost-existent friendship.

"So," I ventured, "any plans for the rest of today, or this weekend?"

He sighed, though he had not completely lost the smile playing around his mouth. "If gas wasn't so expensive, I'd ride my motorcycle to the city today."

My consciousness lunged like a desperate, starveling thing, and I spoke without pondering my thoughts. "If I paid for gas, would you take me with you?"

He hesitated, at a loss for what to say. There was a weariness in him that I didn't notice until afterwards.

My mouth kept going, fuelled by the inkling of a chance to visit Zuzu City. I was desperate to go back, to experience the shitty people and the polluted air, all to know that it still was there and that my choice had not been wrong. The beast was in full predatory mode, unchained and feral.

"It'd still be cheaper than taking the bus, and two thousand times more badass. There are so many places I want to go back and visit. I can't believe I've been away from it for an entire season, I wonder how much has changed. I…" The words died on my lips. Oh Yoba, had I scared him? I wasn't even sure if we were friends, really, and here I was inviting myself on a motorcycle trip with him and babbling like a zealot.

No words came from his lips, but his face said enough on its own. His brow had furrowed above his narrowed eyes and he seemed to lean back, away from me.

"Shit, shit," I said angrily, bowing my head slightly. "I got so excited, too excited. I'm sorry." It was my turn to sigh, my self-frustration fizzling out. "It's just – you mentioned going to the city and a floodgate opened, all these feelings and thoughts, and unexpected things." It had been like hearing a voice for the first time after being deaf for years. My pulse throbbed with the intensity of a timpani, and that terrible beast reared its ugly head, frustrated with being teased like this. I bit my lower lip and looked away, willing myself to die of mortification already. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have invited myself. I put you in a difficult situation." Every instinct in me told me to flee, but I couldn't. Not this time, not after I'd hurt him by fleeing in the past.

My words were met with silence, and I wondered how badly I had damaged this relationship.

"You're homesick," he said gently, surprising me.

I looked up and met his gaze. His earlier apprehension had been replaced with a solemn understanding and sadness. I felt naked before him, and my heart went into a free fall, struggling to right itself and find stability. I was unsure if I relished or hated the feeling, the vulnerability and bareness of being known. I forced myself to nod slowly, a cover for the sudden bout of self-consciousness overtaking me. My cheeks blazed. "I should go." I could not handle this.

I turned and made it as far as his bedroom door before he said, "Wait."

I stopped and turned to face him, trying to keep my gaze focused on the floor.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should've figured that you had a good reason to get so excited and intense." He paused to think. "I think I know you better than that. I mean, we don't know each other that well yet, but you've shown a lot of yourself through your actions. You treat me, the monster, like I'm normal."

My heart pounded in my chest, hopeful and anxious. We were on the threshold of something, and it was on me now to cross it or step back and let the moment fade. My desire and fear grappled with one another.

"You are not a monster," I said quietly. "You are a kind creature with a good heart that you choose to hide. The monsters are those who try to break it." I bowed my head. "But thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." I turned and left, leaving him in silence.

In my head, I heard one word repeated over and over again in his voice: Yet.