Disclaimer: The most suggestive thing about this piece is the first sentence, everything else falls nicely above the belt. Respectful character exploring. Anything mature will be shunted towards the companion piece "Something, Something," if I ever care to publish it.

Beat Up Sneakers and Baby Blues

Chapter 1: Something, Something

[Nami]

The first time we saw each other naked wasn't the first time we slept with each other. Sounds confusing, sounds inherently out of character. But, it wasn't. And trust me—the thought had crossed momentarily, as do all thoughts, but there was something untouchable about the moment. Sacred, in the only way some dripping, beat-up sneakers and a leather fringe crop could be.

Raining cats and dogs, Forget-Me-Not had been testing how much I had become someone else—what, with the strolling in the rain and all, I was barely recognizable. But I couldn't say I had changed for someone else, nor could he claim to have changed me—just that the rain would come and accept me, regardless.

Normally, sentimentalities like that left a cloying, soot-like feeling trapped in the back of my throat, but when he said those kind of things, his words felt well-traveled. It was like his mind had walked around the world and back, sitting on wisdom that grew golden with time. The rain would come and accept me, huh?

What was it that we had we said then?

Evening hadn't quite settled in, as the sun streaked low across the horizon, painting pink-violet on baby blue. He laughed, lithe fingers tracing the tops of the clouds, giving them silly hats and elephant trunks. "They're coming in like a circus, Nami."

Scoffing, I sidled in, bumping him boyishly with my side. But instead of being offended, he seemed to catch my drift right away. Maybe he caught a gleam of endearment running over my features. Or maybe something in my eye caught the twinkles. I never catch myself in the act to really know. Embarrassing. Either way, his feathery laughter lingered long after he caught his footing, shifting close enough for our shoulders to meet.

I took a sharp glance to the side, feeling the heat rise when it shouldn't have. Chest rising, just to fall— just to squeeze in a way it shouldn't have. And maybe my cheeks did grow a little red. Maybe. I never catch myself in the act to really know.

"Nami..."

"..."

"Nami, look."

Instead of taking his cue and rolling my gaze in the direction he was guiding me towards, I stared at him for a bit. Longer than a bit, really. My face was slow to catch his light— expressionless, save for the twinkles I probably had hiding beneath my glass eyes. He caught me staring, and like the worst of the worst (the best of the best), he smiled knowingly. Without an air of teasing, he just seemed to know. Gustafa tilted his head towards the graying clouds that rapidly built ahead— smiling, still.

"Rain's coming." His voice sifted low and gentle.

"I know."

"Do you mind?"

"I'm trying not to. Something, something, a gift from nature, right? That's what you said before."

This time, when he smiled, his whole face seemed to crinkle with silent delight. "Didn't think anyone really minded what I said."

"You kidding?" I looked at him incredulously. "I'm not exactly a people person, but the things you say really stick."

"Guess they do." He caught the twinkles, too.

"And you say a lot of things so freely."

"It'll surprise you to know I'm a chronic overthinker. I just sound free, after processing it all by myself."

"Huh."

The rain came down in sheets, scattering overhead. Even I was vaguely taken aback by how abrupt it was. Raspberrying my sopping hair out of my face, I hardly paid it any mind. The little gears in my head were still clicking over the last thing he said.

"Wait. So you've really been thinking all that through? You're so loose-handed about it, I could hardly tell."

"Some people keep it in and never let the thoughts go."

"Me."

He laughed from his nose, lifting up his pointed hat to shield me from the rain. A sort of airy, breathy huff, that never really offended me. "I didn't say that."

"You were thinking it."

"Promise I wasn't."

I sighed, lightheartedly so. "I know."

He pressed the hat over my head, gently pulling it in place to make sure it was tight and cozy. Something in the way he stroked my head felt ticklish, and I couldn't exactly meet his eyes, then, either.

"Some people keep it in, but I tend to chew on it. And then I let it go when it's ready, you know?" He continued. "Maybe that's why it sounds natural to you? To me, I've just had a lot of time to think."

The more I learned about him, the more I realized we were more alike than I had initially assumed. There it was again. That squeeze in my chest.

"You do sound wiser than you let on."

"Hey, thanks." Coolly, he let the rain run trickle down his tinted glasses, leaving dappled drops on his beard. He'd look a mess, if he wasn't who he was. The deep crow-feet by his eyes from all the years of smiling really tied the look together. Wrinkles on anyone else didn't look as cool.

I pulled him closer, trying to fire the pace up so he didn't end up bone-drenched. But it was a little too late for that.

"Thanks, no thanks. You should take a spoonful of your wisdom and take care of yourself." I sighed, trying to rush us towards the yurt. "Here, just take your hat back. We're already-"

"No, no." His gentle hand stroked my head through the sturdy cut of his hat. "Besides, we're almost home."

He said that so naturally, I didn't blink twice.

Clicking my tongue, I wrapped both arms around his elbow and dragged him past the bar. "Fine. Let's just make a break for it."

It was our first brush with a thunderclap. And Gustafa raised his free arm, cupping some rain as it cascaded down his arm. "Haha! Yeah, let's."

We both thundered down the sleek cobblestone, leather sneaker-bottoms squeaking before cutting into soaked grass and mud. Patches of misshapen puddles splashed behind us, as our reflections flickered past. I flung open the flap door, ushering him and his laughter in. And between raspy breaths, I could have sworn I was laughing, too.

"You're soaked..."

"As are you, honeydew."

"Please." I rolled my eyes, pulling a rolled up towel I knew he kept under one of his beaded table covers. Tossing it over to him, the first thing he did was pat dry his lute with a grace unbecoming. Well. No. Not really. It looked like he was born for it. Like that grace was in his blood from the start.

If I was born two degrees more different than I was, I'd think it was envy I was feeling. But in the here and now, envy wouldn't cut it.

"Nami."

There was the sort of comfortable fluidity that shifted between us, like tides from different oceans, ebbing and flowing—from one body to the next, without hard 'yes's and 'no's. But from time to time, he dropped a moment of singularity, of clarity, without batting an eye.

"Love, you're going to need a towel."

"Forget it." I shot out too quickly, trying to cover my stuttering heart. "You know I'm bone-drenched." I said, flinging off my flannel vest and slinging it into the makeshift bucket sink that Cody had installed for us. I could only half-ignore the pet name, and only half-burn by the thought of it. Kicking off my sneakers, one of them slung, heel-down, against the tarp walls, while the other laid lopsided right below. Pushing down my heart was the least of my worries, as I pulled off a sock at a time. And stretched, half-leaning into a shirt pull, before realizing where I was. And who I was with.

He immediately looked away, polite as he was, but even the town-proclaimed "coolest cucumber," couldn't do shit to hide the heat on his face. I would have been petrified, if it wasn't for him and this place and every ebb and flow that had brought us to this moment. The ocean wave in my mind came crashing in, hitting rock and scattering.

I shrugged, pulling it off.

There was a sort of sheen that fogged up the room, like the light mist from both our figures was trying to find its way out. He had his shoes loosely tucked next to mine, and his vintage leather crop hung on the same hook one of my shoes had caught on. And, without really looking at me, probably out of his gallant efforts to keep his metaphorical socks on, he slung his striped long-sleeve off his shoulders, too. It was all off, for the both of us, by the time we realized what was going on.

I don't really know who looked first. It probably didn't matter.

We had, for the most part, understood each other in the ways of this world and the next. So it shouldn't have mattered, really. Just that, at some point, we met each other's eyes and accepted the light that came out of them. And took a moment to stand there, raw, thinking about what exactly this meant for us. And what we meant to each other.

"Light traces you like a halo." He broke the silence, awestruck. I couldn't imagine anything hallowed about me, but maybe he saw it better than I ever could. For the most part, I was thankful he was so emotionally available to even bother to tell me that. Like opening a window to fresh air, every single time. My chest tightened to the sound of his voice.

"Corny." I snorted. I tilted my head to boyishly tease him.

"Don't you know it." He snorted back.

"You don't look half as beat up as my shoes, at least."

He didn't. In fact, I hated to admit it, but because it was him, all the little peculiarities felt like home to me. His wrinkles, his hair, the way his spine kind of crooked the wrong way. I liked how spindly he was, and the way that his face wore signs of old smiles. I liked his hooked nose and baby blue eyes.

Maybe I shouldn't hold those kind of thoughts in. Maybe I should be more like him and let them go.

He silently acknowledged the half-complement, before raising his towel over his head. Piquing one eyebrow, he seemed to ask me something without asking it.

"Fine." I answered, readying my hands. The towel flew over, landing square and true. And I began to run it through my curls before they got any worse.

"You're handsome." Gustafa said loftily, digging one hand under an ornament shelf to pull out a dish rag. He hardly cared what kind of rag it was, just that it was dry enough to pat himself down with. "Beautiful." Just like that. In the next breath.

I reddened, rolling lock after lock between the towel. It smelled of him. And now it smelled of me, too.

"..." I mouthed a line, willing it to come to life. Willing myself to brave the front and be a better me.

"Hm?"

Damn. He didn't catch it. Could have sworn he could read lips.

"I don't mind this." I managed to say. "Us, I mean."

His laughter warmed the room.

"I love you, too."

References include:
1. If you as a protagonist cannot afford the upgrades to your house post-marriage, there's actually a list of people who will chip in to help you build the additions to your house (i.e. Your larger home, bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, etc.) Technically, if you marry Nami, her father will chip in, but these two aren't married yet! Yes. I thought about the logistics and Cody is someone who actually can chip in to help. I also had to look up the logistics of yurt bathrooms. Goddess help me.
2. HM:AWL, the last thing Gustafa says to Nami in their first rival event is "take care of yourself." Which was changed to "take it easy" in the Story of Seasons rendition.
3. In an interview with Yasuhiro Wada, he states a couple things about Gustafa/Nami. One, that Gustafa is carefree after careful consideration of the world around him, and that he wishes he was as purely carefree as Rock was. He's only acting "freely" after having ruminated over his thoughts for a long time. And two, that Nami is absolutely smitten for Gustafa because he introduces a world-view to her that she is wholly unfamiliar with.