Chapter Text
Farewell to Summer
"Do you remember the last time we saw the jellies together?" E asks, falling into step beside Nate as they make their way down the gravel drive toward town. She tugs her cardigan more tightly around her as the breeze picks up, already carrying the first chill of autumn.
"Yeah," Nate says. "That was the last time we saw Grandpa Frank."
"Yeah." She sighs wistfully, her eyes distant behind her glasses. "And of course we made a mess of it." She chuckles softly at the memory.
They'd gotten to the docks early, and promptly got into a squabble over . . . something. Nate can't quite remember what it was about. What he does remember is dragging both of them over the side into the waves. Luckily it was before the lantern boats were released, so they didn't have to find out firsthand if moonlight jellies sting or not.
"Grandpa thought it was funny," Nate counters.
"True," she concedes. "But neither of us got to light a lantern that year."
They had, in fact, spent the entire event soaked and shivering, wrapped in towels from Willy's cabin. They were lucky Grandpa hadn't just sent them home.
"I can't remember what we were even fighting about," Nate says.
"I do. Grandpa only had one lantern between the three of us."
"Ah yeah, that'll do it."
They lapse into a comfortable silence— something Nate is still getting used to. Not the silence, the comfort. As summer wore on, things with E got easier and easier. They still bicker, of course, but it has less animosity to it now. Disagreements fizzle out, compromises are reached, and they move on. Maybe this is how it's supposed to be.
It's nice. And for once Nate isn't waiting for the other shoe to drop and send them into chaos again. He's gotten a pretty decent handle on the farm work, and from the updates he's been getting from E, the lawsuit against Joja is building nicely. It's not without significant roadblocks, but he doesn't really understand the legal jargon, so he leaves that to her. The short version that she put together for him just boils down to: greedy corporations will do anything and everything to protect their interests, and that's something he can grasp quite easily.
Things aren't perfect, but they don't need to be.
Grandpa Frank once told him that the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies is about the inevitability of change. No matter what our plans are, the jellies will begin their migration at the same time every year— summer will always fade into fall, and fall into winter. The good news is that spring will come again, and summer will follow. Just like the valley, Nate's entered a new season in his life. He never pictured himself as a farmer, but it sure as hell beats living out the rest of his life as a miserable corporate drone.
The docks are sparsely populated with a handful of townsfolk and tourists, Mayor Lewis chatting with Willy as they add the final touches to the big lantern boat that will lead the others out to sea. Nate scans the crowd for his friends, but it appears he's arrived just a tad too early. He's reflecting on his first two seasons in the valley when a massive weight impacts him from behind, nearly sending him sprawling into the sand.
His brief moment of panic fizzles into laughter as strong, familiar arms wrap around him. "Hey!" he protests through his giggles as he and Sam stumble together across the sand to try and stay upright.
"I gotcha!" Sam says, his tone triumphant.
E just rolls her eyes at this little display and walks off across the beach to Harvey, who's waiting for her at the bottom of a short set of stairs that lead onto the docks. He's got his hands behind his back, a little nervous smile playing across his lips as E joins him. When they both turn, Nate's eyes zero in on the source of his anxious demeanor. He's got a bouquet clenched tightly in his hands.
E peeks over Harvey's shoulder, and Nate catches a slight widening of her eyes, but she turns her attention back to the sea, pretending she hasn't noticed.
"Well, well, well . . ." Nate says slyly, pointing this out to Sam, who lets out a low whistle.
"Good luck, Doc," Sam says, chuckling.
"He's gonna need it," Nate agrees.
Behind them, Seb, Abby, and Maru make their way down the beach, the two women hand in hand. Clearly the entire crew had arrived together, judging by the way Sebastian rolls his eyes when Nate finally turns to look at them. Sam, as always, just couldn't resist sprinting ahead.
"Hey," Nate says, a sudden thought occurring to him. "I never got you a bouquet— does that mean we're not official?" he asks.
Sam laughs at that, like the question is silly. "I just thought we didn't do that because I'm allergic to flowers," he says. "And since when did you care about traditional shit anyway?"
"I guess you're right . . ." Nate trails off. Of course he knew about Sam's allergies, it was hard to miss. But they didn't ever really talk about it either.
"We can think of something else, if you want," Sam offers. "I don't need anything though. I'm happy just being us, ya know?"
"Me too."
Everything is so easy with Sam, and maybe that's why the thought of making things official never occurred to Nate before now. From the beginning, they just sort of clicked, neither of them feeling the need to question it. Nate doesn't know why he's questioning it now. Even Sam's response to it had been pretty much what he expected. Hadn't they already said the L word? That's about as official as it gets.
Maybe he's still trying to appease that small part of him that's always waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him. He'd grown used to that inevitability, and has to admit, even if it's just to himself, that he's having a hard time reconciling that expectation with reality.
Maybe it's time to accept that the persistent downward trajectory of his life is finally starting to take an upswing. The best thing to do now is just enjoy the ride.
The crowd migrates onto the docks, some folks clustering along the shore, or on the smaller dock out by the tide pools, everyone chattering quietly among themselves as the brilliant orange and purple sunset darkens to inky black, stars sparkling overhead like spilled glitter. Nate quietly takes it all in, standing among his friends at the far end of the festivities. His eyes pick out E in the crowd, eyebrows raising when he notices the bouquet is in her hands now. Harvey seems much more at ease, too, the pair of them standing close near the water's edge.
"You good?" Sam asks, dropping his chin onto Nate's shoulder.
"Yeah, just excited. I missed the jellies," he replies. "But it's also kinda weird, ya know? Last time I came here to see them, I didn't know that was gonna be my last day with Grandpa."
In response, Sam's arms snake around him, pulling him in close. He always does reach for physical touch when he isn't quite sure what to say. Nate leans into it, letting Sam's warm, heavy presence block the chill breeze.
"I'm glad you came back," Sam says.
"Me too."
Everything is different now. Well, not everything. The jellies will do their dance every year without fail, the same thing year after year. It's his perspective that's changed. It's weird to think about the fact that the last time he stood on these docks, waiting for the lanterns to set sail, he'd had a different name. One that didn't fit, though he wasn't really aware of it at the time.
As he reflects on this, he settles deeper into Sam's arms, letting his head fall back against Sam's chest.
"I wonder if we'll see the green one this year," Sam says.
"There's a green one?"
"Yeah," Maru chimes in. She's nestled into the crook of Abby's arm, watching the water with a gentle smile on her face as she fiddles with the ends of her braids. "I've seen it once. It's much larger than the other lunaloos, so it's hard to miss."
"Huh," Nate says, suddenly watching the dark waves with much more interest.
"Did you know that there's a species of jellyfish that's functionally immortal?" Maru asks.
"What?" Sebastian exhales a plume of smoke over the water, shooting a sideways glance at his sister.
"Turritopsis dohrnii," Maru says, matter-of-factly. "When they're stressed, old, or exposed to danger they can revert back to their polyp stage and essentially start over through a process called transdifferentiation."
"Say that again, but pretend I'm five," Nate says, laughing.
"They can basically turn their cells into new types of cells. They just . . ." she trails off, searching for an explanation her uneducated friends will understand. "Become babies again," she offers. She crinkles her nose, and Nate senses that it's far more complicated than that. "Though most will die from disease or predators before they actually finish the process."
"So they're immortal . . . but they can die? That doesn't make sense," Sam says.
"I said functionally immortal, not literally," Maru says, rolling her eyes. "In ideal conditions they could live forever, but that's not how stuff works most of the time."
"Right."
The group lapses into an easy silence as the activity near Willy's cabin picks up. People select their viewing spots, some holding small lantern boats of their own as Lewis sets the big one into the water and Willy checks it's mooring to make sure it won't float away too early.
"Psst, hey." E edges along the dock, Harvey trailing behind her. She raises the small lantern boat in her hand. "I managed to snag one of these . . . wanna release it together?"
Nate grins. "As long as you don't try to push me in again," he says.
"You pushed me," she says. It's a weak protest, cut with laughter.
Nate pulls out his lighter as the mayor makes the announcement that they're ready to begin and lights the little candle set into the boat. Together, he and E kneel on the edge of the dock and lower the tiny craft into the water. There's a count-down, and on one they release it, staying there more a moment to watch it bob on the waves, the flickering flame reflecting off the dark water.
A gasp flies up from the crowd as the first jelly appears, then another, and another. Soon it seems like the entire Gem Sea is awash in a blue glow as hundreds, maybe even thousands of moonlight jellies dance. As Nate watches, he feels Sam's hands slip into his hoodie pocket, holding him tight. He glances back, taking in Sam's face bathed in the cerulean glow, eyes wide with wonder. Suddenly, they widen further.
"I see it!" Sam shouts, pointing. "The green jelly!"
Oohs and Ahhs erupt from the crowd as they hear Sam's announcement and flock over to look. A massive green jellyfish bobs among the smaller blue lunaloos, its majestic tentacles swaying in the current.
"Maybe that's their queen," Nate offers, observing how the smaller jellyfish seem drawn to it.
"Jellyfish are typically solitary creatures," Maru says. Abby nudges her playfully, and she continues. "But maybe the lunaloos are special, I don't know."
"You mean you don't know every fact there is to know about them? You're slacking," Sebastian quips, taking another deep drag off his cigarette. He plays it nonchalant, but he's just as transfixed by the spectacle as everyone else.
"There's a lot of weird shit in this valley," Maru retorts. "I don't think anyone understands all of it."
Nate laughs at that, mostly to himself. Because it's true. This valley is weird as shit. But these days, it feels like the one place he truly belongs.
☆★☆★☆★☆
A Fair Day
Summer was a blur— a kaleidoscope of color shimmering in the heat, full of fireworks, ripe melon juice trickling down his chin, warm sand in his toes, and making love to the sound of buzzing cicadas outside of Nate's cabin. With his hours at JojaMart slashed, Sam has a lot of free time on his hands, and he and Nate spent that summer going at it like rabbits, fucking like the sun wasn't going to come up the next day.
He keeps reminding himself that lawsuits take time, and Eliza had been buried in a sea of paperwork ever since that day she and Nate came to eat crispy bass at his house. Hell, even after she accepted Harvey's bouquet, she'd still devoted the majority of her time to that.
Sam's been learning a lot about farming, too, spending the daylight hours when he isn't at work in the fields with Nate, helping with the planting and harvesting. He'd offered to help under the pretense of freeing up some of Eliza's time, but he'd be lying if he said he doesn't enjoy it. Nate got some chickens recently, and the responsibility for naming them fell to Sam, much to his delight. When he suggested Hennifer, Eggberta, Omeletta, and Pecktunia, Eliza put up some resistance, but she was quickly outvoted two-to-one.
The square is a buzz of activity, vendors for the annual Stardew Valley Fair setting up their booths as townsfolk and tourists alike pour into the square. Nate is parked in front of his grange display, pulling things from the crate Sam's holding and arranging them as best as he can: a carton of eggs, a jar of blueberry jam, pickled cabbage, a salmon, a sparkling amethyst geode, a sheaf of amaranth, apple butter, and a wonky-looking pink cake that he and Sam had baked together. It would look better if they had waited for the cake to cool before adding the frosting, but they had been running short on prep time and neither of them had the patience.
"Sam, I need you to sign some things quick." Eliza rifles through her messenger bag, pulling out a stack of papers and a pen, fumbling with a paper cup of cider in her other hand.
Harvey plucks the cup from her grasp, finally catching up to her. "Sweetie?" he questions, a little out of breath. "Is this really the time? I thought you weren't working today."
Sam takes the papers, and Nate presents his back to act as a table. He signs the papers without really reading anything. He's used to her by this point, and he knows that it's just better to go along with it. "What are these again?" he asks as he caps the pen.
"Your deposition. Speaking of which . . . Shane!" She snatches the papers back and disappears into the crowd again, following a disgruntled Shane, who picks up the pace when he notices her approaching.
Harvey shoots Sam and Nate an apologetic smile and trails after her.
"Hmm . . . some of that shit looks familiar," Nate says, pointing to Pierre's grange display. "Does it count as cheating if he puts out stuff I sold to him?"
Sam shrugs. "Uh . . . I'm not sure. You'd have to ask your lawyer, but she's long gone."
"Yes, yes, I grew all of this in my garden," Pierre says, smugly peacocking next to his display, showing off the fresh produce to a pair of tourists who ooh and ahh over Pelican Town's bounty.
Nate rolls his eyes, clearly communicating just what he thinks of that. "Eh, whatever," he says. He wraps an arm around Sam's waist and steers him away through the crowd.
Jodi waves to them as they approach, Vincent bouncing restlessly next to her. "You kids have fun!" she says, handing Vincent off to them.
Sam takes one of Vince's hands, and Nate scoops up the other immediately— a casual, automatic gesture that melts Sam a little, every time he sees it.
Nate had promised Vince that he would take him around to all the games at the fair, knowing full well that Sam doesn't have the money for that. It was the start of their first argument as a couple.
Well, it wasn't exactly an argument. Sam voiced his frustrations, telling Nate he doesn't have to do that, especially when the farm is just barely starting to turn a profit. He always feels so guilty when Nate does shit like this, even though Nate always assures him he doesn't mind.
"I care about what you care about," Nate had said, as if it's that simple. "Don't worry about money today, just have fun."
Money is one thing Nate never seems to fret over, even when he's broke, which is mind-boggling to Sam. He just dives headfirst into things even when he knows the outcome might be bad, like he doesn't care about the consequences. Or maybe he's just so used to failing at stuff that the prospect doesn't bother him anymore. They spend a lot of time talking, wrapped up in the sheets, basking in the afterglow, slowly uncovering Nate's past through little anecdotes. He tells them like they're funny stories, always shocked when Sam doesn't laugh.
He knows Nate well enough to see that he's truly happy today, swinging a giggling Vince between them as they stroll between the tents in the square.
"Woah!" Vincent stops in his tracks, tugging the guys toward a red and green striped tent. "I want that one!" He releases Nate's hand to point excitedly at a teddy bear swinging on a hook high up in the eaves of the tent. It's bigger than he is, with floppy arms that sway in the brisk fall breeze and blue buttons for eyes.
"Seems simple enough," Nate says, eyeing the colorful targets that move left to right along the back of the tent in a seemingly random pattern. Slingshots are laid out along a wooden sawhorse that serves as the counter alongside smooth, round stones piled into colorfully painted wooden boxes.
Nate hands some coins to the woman behind the counter and hands Vince a slingshot and a stone, then hoists him up by the waist to give him a better vantage point.
When Nate first moved to the valley he was pretty skinny, swimming in baggy t-shirts and jeans. Seb had once described him as a guy "with a bad dye job who looks like he eats cigarettes." To be fair, that description is still pretty accurate, but all of that farm work has bulked him up. The same shirt he'd been wearing when they first met— the one with the cartoon strawberry monster stomping through a city— clings to his biceps as they flex to lift Vince onto the sawhorse in front of the target game, that old blue hoodie Sam never got back tied around his waist. Bad dye job aside, Sam thought he was pretty hot back then, but now . . . there are more layers to it. He watches how good Nate is with his little brother and the warm and fuzzy, lovey-dovey feelings swirl with the feral desire to drag him back to the cabin and never come out again.
Vince makes a valiant effort, but all of the stones he fires plop into the dirt well before reaching the target. He pouts, shuffling one toe of his sneaker into the grass, and Sam can sense that the waterworks are imminent. Nate shoots a pointed 'help me' look at Sam, lips pressed into a tight line.
"I'll win it for ya, buddy," Sam says, ruffling Vince's hair and stepping up to the tent.
In the end, it takes Sam six tries, and the rest of Nate's game tokens, but he gets that bear.
"Man, sorry I wasted all your tokens," Sam murmurs to him as the woman hands Vince the bear.
Nate laughs, watching Vince attempt to cart the bear away without dragging it in the dirt. Sam can barely see him, seemingly swallowed by the stuffy's massive form. "That is worth every cent," Nate says, pointing. "He looks so ridiculous."
☆★☆★☆★☆
They're tucking into Gus's famous barbecue sandwiches when it comes time to announce the winner of the grange display contest. Sam looks in the direction of the square, barbecue sauce dripping down his chin. Nate swipes it off with his finger and pops it into his mouth.
"We should probably head over," Sam says.
Nate just takes another bite of his sandwich, appearing lost in thought for a moment as he chews. "We probably didn't win," he says. "Plus this isn't a sandwich you can just put down and pick up again— the whole thing'll fall apart on me and then I'll be a sandwichless loser."
"We?" Sam raises an eyebrow. The display is all stuff from Nate's farm, so technically only his name is registered for the contest. But that tiny little word, 'we,' has him grinning like a damn fool.
"Well yeah. You did at least a third of the work," Nate says.
"Oh yeah, guess you're right." It somehow didn't register to him that all that time he spends helping Nate on the farm when he isn't busy actually counts for something.
Abby makes her way over to the food pavilion, Maru and Seb in tow, and plops down on the bench across from them, the dramatic roll of her eyes telling Sam everything in an instant. She doesn't need to say that Pierre won, yet again.
Nate takes in her demeanor and laughs. "Well, what can ya do," he says, polishing off the last of the meat in his sandwich and using the last bit of bun to mop up the spilled sauce on his plate.
"You should shake him down for half the star tokens," Abby says. "All of them actually. He doesn't have a garden that I've ever seen."
"Eh," Nate says, shrugging. "Not sure if I care enough."
As the conversation picks up, Sam registers Nate tapping away at his phone under the table, not even looking at it. Sam's phone buzzes in his pocket just a few seconds later. Nate's foot taps his as he pulls his phone out and glimpses the string of lewd emojis on the screen. His boyfriend clearly has more important things on his mind that some small town agriculture contest. Sam sends back a winky face.
When Ma comes to collect Vince, who had been silently pretending to feed his sandwich to the massive stuffed bear throughout the conversation, Seb pinches his thumb and index finger together and raises them to his mouth, inhaling imaginary smoke— a cue for the rest of the group to make their way behind the community center.
As the day comes to a close, the scent of weed mingling with freshly fallen leaves, wood smoke, and barbecue sauce is better than any perfume. Sam wishes he could bottle it.
☆★☆★☆★☆
B - L - O - W - M - E
Everyone knows the real Spirit's Eve thrills are had after the festival ends. Or at least that's what Abby says as the five friends creep down the path from Sebastian's house toward the old cemetery on the edge of town in the wee hours of the morning, guided by the light of the full moon and the beam of a small keychain flashlight that Sam swings erratically over the road before them. A few candles still gutter in the grinning maws of the jack-o-lanterns scattered throughout town, but the festive string lights have been switched off, the buffet tables cleared of their themed snacks and carted away, and— to Nate's surprise— the haunted hedge maze that had dominated the north side of town just hours earlier has already disappeared as if it was never there.
The creak of the wrought-iron cemetery gate pierces the still night air, setting Nate's teeth on edge, like the fillings in his back molars are vibrating with the friction of metal on metal. He whips his head around, peering into the shadows between the darkened houses for signs of any unwanted observers, but the streets are empty.
The ground here is blanketed in fog, making it hard for Nate to trust his vision. Every shadow, every slight noise in the darkness is a monster waiting to pounce. The rational part of his mind scolds him for such childish fear, but his heart is hammering in his chest anyway.
"You scared?" Sam asks, lightly elbowing him in the ribs.
"Nah," Nate says, keeping his tone casual even as the shivers race up his spine.
"You know, I'm kinda scared, actually," Sam whispers, covering his mouth with his hand so other three can't hear. Seb, Abby, and Maru are already strolling between the gravestones up ahead, searching for an ideal spot to set up.
"Looking for an excuse to hold hands?" Nate teases.
"Maybe." A coy little smile falls across Sam's face.
Nate lets out a soft chuckle and takes Sam's hand in his, swinging it as they catch up to the others.
Abby finds an open, grassy spot and slides a long, rectangular box out of her backpack, the tangled cluster of keychains dangling from it jangling eerily in the silence of the graveyard. It's too quiet out here— dead quiet. Nate stifles a laugh and plops down in the grass criss-cross-applesauce as Abby lifts the spirit board out of its box with exaggerated reverence.
The board sports an array of letters and numbers, a "GOODBYE" flanked on either side by a "YES" and a "NO." Around the edges it's decorated with arcane symbols and filigree. A little square declaring "ages 8+" on the box it came in betrays the fact that it was likely purchased at a toy store. It was made to provide entertainment at sleepovers, and not much else, but Abby handles it like it's some mysterious artifact of great power.
"Aren't you guys a little worried we might, like . . . contact something evil?" Sam asks, fidgeting in the grass. He plucks up the longer slender blades and starts tearing them to pieces.
So he wasn't lying about being scared earlier. That's kinda cute. Nate pokes a finger into his cheek, prompting a surprised look.
"What?" Sam asks. "I'm serious. Isn't it dangerous to mess with spirits?"
Maru rolls her eyes. "You actually believe in this stuff?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
"What? No," Sam protests, a blush creeping into his cheeks. "Maybe a little," he admits, quieter.
"I still think we should have stayed in and watched some slasher flicks or something," Seb says.
"Don't tell me you're scared too," Abby teases, pulling down on Sebastian's hoodie strings until the fabric puckers around his face.
"No," Sebastian argues, "I just think this is kid shit."
"Don't be a party pooper," Abby says. She rolls her eyes and returns to her work, retrieving a small, teardrop-shaped plachette and setting it on the center of the board.
Nate never put much stock in hokey shit like spirit boards, but there's something in the way Abby's face goes all still and serious as she places her fingertip on the planchette that sends a shiver down his spine. Even Seb and Maru look solemn once they're all touching it. Nate lets his knee fall against Sam's, leaning into him a little to offer reassurance. He's seen enough magical things since moving to Pelican Town to wonder if maybe there is actually some magic inside the flimsy board.
"Spirits!" Abby intones. "We are here to commune with you. Is anyone here?"
Nate doesn't realize he's holding his breath until the planchette starts sliding slowly across the board.
"YES"
"Okay, who's moving it?" Sam asks. "This is really freaking me out."
"No one, it's the spirits," Abby replies. Maru opens her mouth to say something and Abby silences her with a glance. "What is your name?" Abby continues.
They sit in silence for a beat, and then the planchette begins to move again. Abby reads off the letters as the spirit spells its name.
"W-O-O-D-J-Y-A"
"Woodjya? What kind of a name is that?" Nate asks. He hears a noise from his right, and Sebastian quickly covers his mouth with his free hand, covering the little strangled squeak with a cough.
The planchette keeps moving.
"B-L-O-W-M-E"
"Which one of you motherfuckers is messing with it?" Abby demands. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at each of the men in turn as they barely suppress their laughter.
Nate notices that she doesn't turn her accusatory gaze at her girlfriend, who's laughing just as hard as everyone else. He puts up his hands, professing his innocence. "Wasn't me."
"Pfft . . . wasn't me," Sam says, the corners of his mouth twitching as he bites back another peal of laughter.
Nate cuts his gaze to Maru, raising a questioning eyebrow. She looks at Abby, making sure she isn't watching. Abby's still glowering at Sam, who's doing a poor job of holding himself together. She turns back to Nate and mouths a silent, "It was me." Her eyes glint mischievously as she covers her mouth with her hands.
Nate bites his lower lip, shaking as he fights back hysterical laughter.
"Sebastian?" Abby asks, the sound of his full name from her mouth a tangible threat. Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline as her gaze burns a hole in him.
Sebastian opens his mouth to protest. "I didn't—"
Clang!
Nate leaps to his feet, fear jolting through his chest like lightning as a deafening metallic noise rings out from somewhere just beyond the graveyard. The Mullners' old dog barks in alarm, and then the five of them are sprinting, sneakers pelting the pavement as they flee up the road toward Sebastian's house.
As they pass the saloon, something catches Nate's eye— a figure in a yellow coat darting out from under the streetlight as a trash can lid rolls away across the cobblestones in a lazy arc.
"Guys," Nate pants. "Guys, it's just Linus."
Abby, Sam, and Maru slow to a stop, looking in the direction of the saloon, but Sebastian only runs faster, his retreating form disappearing into the darkness up ahead.
"Is he scared of Linus or something?" Nate asks, brows furrowed in confusion.
"He went out for a smoke once and saw him skinny dipping in the lake," Sam says, resting his hands on his knees and breathing hard. "They made eye contact."
"Now that's a real horror story."