Muddy Relations (Stardew Valley Fanfiction)

Spring 25, Year 4

"That's so strange," Abby frowned, her mouth full. "Ugh, this is so delicious!" she exclaimed, shoving another spoonful of Banana pudding in her mouth. Her cheeks lifted, filled to the brim but beautiful nonetheless.

"Yeah, I think it was a penguin who taught me the recipe," I smirked.

"Ooh, authentic!" her eyes squinted, "I mean, Clint has always been unconventional–" She paused after changing the subject back to what we were talking about earlier. "You're sure he wants you to get involved?"

"He sent me a letter this morning, actually. He wanted me to come around as soon as I could."

"Well, why didn't you? I could've lived without pudding for the morning–" She looked at the pudding hungrily. "Actually, nevermind."

My eyes lingered on her face. It looked sculpted and was glowing. Abby shifted, watching her gerbil cause mass destruction inside its cage.

"How are your parents?" I asked at last, wanting to know. Pierre and Caroline had seemed excruciatingly on the rocks during the flower dance. They spent the night apart, Pierre not even leaving his booth for food. He had counted his gold coins occasionally.

Abby's head turned down, and her face fell. She swallowed down the last bite of Banana Pudding, but she didn't seem to savor it the way she had wanted.

"They're surviving. My mom is working on her tea more and more. It makes her happy in a way that my dad can't." Her eyes fluttered to the ceiling, her eyelashes looking especially navy. "They had a big fight when my dad decided to stay open seven days a week. She liked having the time to be with him. I think it made her feel like they were in love." Abigail couldn't do anything but sigh.

"It'll be okay, Abby–" I began to speak.
"I know, of course I know. It's not like their relationship was ever good. Anyway, their love life is none of my business." I couldn't help but frown.

Clint's shop was delightfully warm. Even with the plants growing, and the sunlight finding paths down to the tossed earth, the cusp of Spring couldn't fully remove the bleak chill that winter had left behind. The furnace in the hearth of Clint's store emitted a bright luminance, the coals glowing a lustrous fever, encased in its own crystal prison. I had always been a bit of a pyromaniac.

We had started with the basics. Being presentable.
"This is unbelievable," Clint complained. His voice was winy, but his hair was also wet with perspiration from the early morning grind. "So you're telling me, that what I've been wearing, and how I've been grooming myself, for the past thirty years, is wrong?"

I stared back at his dark glinting eyes. They seemed to glimmer with desperation.

"Yes– You need to take care of yourself."
His face pulled and his hand rubbed dirt on the bridge of his prominent nose.

"No, I mean it," I noted. "What makes a person desirable is that they're pleasant to be around, not just okay to be around. This means that you use fragrant soap, after shave, cologne. You need to smell like something other than metal and smoke." I pondered to myself a moment, my head relaxing down in the small of my palm. "Although,"

Clint's eyebrow raised and he frowned slightly. It was moments like those where I couldn't quite tell what he was thinking. A flash of every possible thought he could have went through my mind, and none of them could satisfy like the reality of actually knowing.

"What do you mean, 'although'," he breathed, indifferent. He leaned closer to me, his face soft and timid. His eyes drooped with comfort, and his breath mixed through my hair. It was sweet. It had the reminiscence of mango and starfruit, a gratifying occupation. His face was only inches away from mine.

"Hmm," I droned, my thoughts on the shape of his face in front of me.

"'Although'–" he said again. My mind seemed to straighten.

"I don't mind the smell of smoke so much," I finished. "Emily prefers fragrance, though. You need to cater to her wants and her preferences. Defining that early on, is what makes a difference."

The mood changed almost immediately. He straightened, and he vowed to wash himself regularly with the supplies and process I had suggested. Finally.

"Now we come to the second most important topic," I spoke, moving further away from Clint. If there was one thing I knew, it was that proximity had an effect on my thoughts. "You need to actually talk to her."

"I do!" Clint protested, his eyes squinted with disappointment. "We went to the Grampleton Carnival." He looked distant. "Emily really hit it off with the fortune teller," he shuffled a bit, and then laughed. "Apparently Emily had a dream about all the things you'd done for Pelican Town and spent the evening catching her old friend up."

My ears flushed.
"What happened, Clint? Why didn't you pursue her?"

"Because I wasn't sure that she would choose me. She is the most wonderful, interesting person that I can't see her settling down to be with me. Like you have stated, there just needs to be more to me. I'm the walking curse of my bloodline, and Emily is the enlightened blessing to hers."

I frowned.
"I know you've had a lot of time to think about how wonderful Emily is and how you are lacking in certain departments, but you need to focus on what's important. You have a chance to improve your attitude, so take it." My voice made me sound important. I wanted to be important.

"The first step in wooing a woman is simple. Brand yourself."
We had sat down and faced each other. I had half a mind to make Clint take notes, but the only paper he had was already used for his attempted poetry. "What do you enjoy doing?"

"Blacksmithing, I think," he said apathetically.
"No wonder." I frowned with frustration. His eyes seemed to sparkle in response. "Well, what do you do when you don't have any work?"

"I always have work,"
"What did you do as a kid, then?" He was surprised for only a second before smirking at me.

"I helped the old man tend his field. I fixed fences and things like that. I carved a few statues as well," he said gruffly, tilting his head back and leaning into the plush armchair he sat in.

His comment had thrown me off slightly.
"My old man?" He nodded. "You worked on my Grandpa's Farm?" He nodded again. "Wow,"

"'Wow', would be right. The old man really was a character. I can see where you get a lot of your traits from," He shifted in his seat, and stared gently at me, caressing each figuration of my existence. "You're a lot more refined than him, though. You don't share the same soul."

"What do you mean?"
"For starters, you don't hire some strange teenager to build a few fences–" He paused and thought. "You're more sensitive than him. You really care about me– uhm, us, I mean. You really care about Pelican Town. Not just because you're a member of the community, but because you feel responsible for us. I really appreciate that quality in you,"

I blushed for no reason besides humility. "Thank you," I whispered, my breath hot on my lips. "I never considered myself to be quite up to standards." My early progress in Stardew Valley had been enough to make me doubt myself. Not to mention the nightmares.

"So," my mouth uttered on autopilot, "You like to wood carve. That's unique." Clint only shrugged. "I want you to carve something for Emily. Maybe an incense holder," I held my chin in thought.

"Don't you think it would be strange if I just started gifting things to Emily?" Clint asked. I'm sure he was close to blushing.

"I think you're right–" I thought for a moment again. "So carve something for everyone you see regularly at Gus's," It was the bar Clint spent every night at. I crossed my legs. "It'll really make you stand out, if you're generous enough to give gifts to everyone. Plus, it won't make it seem as though you are singular in your affection to Emily; Just thoughtful."

He nodded, taking it in.
"Oh, and bring your whittling supplies with you when you get to the bar," I said as I sat up straighter. "You'll be more natural that way." Clint's face contorted at the suggestion.

"Isn't there anything else I could do?"
"Only if you want to actually talk to other people." That response seemed to keep him quiet.