harvest moon; goodbyes at summer's end | Amir/Gretel
Title: goodbyes at summer's end
Pairing(s): Amir/Gretel
Wordcount: 609
Summary: When summer ends, Amir says his goodbyes before returning home.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harvest Moon series in any shape or form.
Notes: This is one of my favorite things that I wrote this year, although it's the wrong season for it right now. ♥ I figured that since it's my favorite on my to-post list, it makes sense to post it on my favorite day of the year.
goodbyes at summer's end
The morning he leaves Zephyr Town Amir wakes up earlier than usual. The hotel is dark and quiet as he packs his things; neither Ethel nor Stuart have yet woken for the day.
He does not mind. He's already said his goodbyes the night before, his promises of return drowning in Daisy's watery blue eyes. Not for the first time, he thinks that while she is innocent she is not naive, and that she knows something of the permanence of goodbyes.
Ethel and Stuart were easier, somehow. They took his words as inevitable, and while this quiet acceptance should have been all the more tragic he finds that he takes comfort in it instead. They too know goodbyes, know them so well that each new one is merely another ocean wave against the smooth pebble of their being. His mother is the same way.
Amir will know many goodbyes in his lifetime. He hopes that one day he will be able to accept them with that same quiet grace.
His goodbyes have all been said, with the exception of one. He has not enjoyed any of them thus far, but this he will enjoy the least, and so he has put it off until this final morning.
He finishes packing. It is time.
When he leaves the hotel the air outside has a colder bite than it did before. Summer is dying, he thinks. Summer is dying, and I am leaving.
It is fitting, somehow.
He takes his time getting to his destination, following the familiar paths he has grown to love. He will not see them again for a whole season. The leaves of the trees are still lush with green, but he can see a few unlucky ones beginning to brown at their edges. He wonders what Zephyr Town will look like, red and yellow and brown, leaves scattered across the grass, scattering across the dirt in the wake of a breeze.
He will never see it, as long as his father lives.
One season is a long time.
He reaches her farm shortly after the sun crests over the horizon. He thinks that she should be awake soon, but is not sure. It is usually she who visits him, stopping by the hotel or the fountain during some break in her day, free with her smiles, always willing to listen. He's only been here once after that first meeting, in Spring. It had been noon then, and they had sat on the bench overlooking her field and eaten the cookies she had baked, the chocolate melting on his tongue, the sun warm on their backs, the delicate leaves of her cabbages just beginning to unfurl.
It had been a pleasant day. He looks back on it often, especially when he sees her admiring Angelo's art by the river, or stopping by the cafe to speak with Dirk. He's neither stupid nor blind, and he knows full well why these things trouble him.
It's the same reason why he's waited until now to say goodbye.
The farm looks different than it did that day in Spring. There's a tree growing in her field now, and the delicate veins of her cabbages have been replaced by something he doesn't recognize, something whose leaves are thick and dark and spiky.
Finally, he reaches the farmhouse. He thinks of cabbages and chocolate cookies, of fountains and benches, of Daisy's tears and Ethel and Stuart's acceptance.
He thinks of summer's end.
He thinks of goodbyes.
Finally, he thinks of his father, his kingdom, his heritage.
Then, he thinks of her.
He does not hesitate as he lifts his hand to knock.
Pairing(s): Amir/Gretel
Wordcount: 609
Summary: When summer ends, Amir says his goodbyes before returning home.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harvest Moon series in any shape or form.
Notes: This is one of my favorite things that I wrote this year, although it's the wrong season for it right now. ♥ I figured that since it's my favorite on my to-post list, it makes sense to post it on my favorite day of the year.
goodbyes at summer's end
The morning he leaves Zephyr Town Amir wakes up earlier than usual. The hotel is dark and quiet as he packs his things; neither Ethel nor Stuart have yet woken for the day.
He does not mind. He's already said his goodbyes the night before, his promises of return drowning in Daisy's watery blue eyes. Not for the first time, he thinks that while she is innocent she is not naive, and that she knows something of the permanence of goodbyes.
Ethel and Stuart were easier, somehow. They took his words as inevitable, and while this quiet acceptance should have been all the more tragic he finds that he takes comfort in it instead. They too know goodbyes, know them so well that each new one is merely another ocean wave against the smooth pebble of their being. His mother is the same way.
Amir will know many goodbyes in his lifetime. He hopes that one day he will be able to accept them with that same quiet grace.
His goodbyes have all been said, with the exception of one. He has not enjoyed any of them thus far, but this he will enjoy the least, and so he has put it off until this final morning.
He finishes packing. It is time.
When he leaves the hotel the air outside has a colder bite than it did before. Summer is dying, he thinks. Summer is dying, and I am leaving.
It is fitting, somehow.
He takes his time getting to his destination, following the familiar paths he has grown to love. He will not see them again for a whole season. The leaves of the trees are still lush with green, but he can see a few unlucky ones beginning to brown at their edges. He wonders what Zephyr Town will look like, red and yellow and brown, leaves scattered across the grass, scattering across the dirt in the wake of a breeze.
He will never see it, as long as his father lives.
One season is a long time.
He reaches her farm shortly after the sun crests over the horizon. He thinks that she should be awake soon, but is not sure. It is usually she who visits him, stopping by the hotel or the fountain during some break in her day, free with her smiles, always willing to listen. He's only been here once after that first meeting, in Spring. It had been noon then, and they had sat on the bench overlooking her field and eaten the cookies she had baked, the chocolate melting on his tongue, the sun warm on their backs, the delicate leaves of her cabbages just beginning to unfurl.
It had been a pleasant day. He looks back on it often, especially when he sees her admiring Angelo's art by the river, or stopping by the cafe to speak with Dirk. He's neither stupid nor blind, and he knows full well why these things trouble him.
It's the same reason why he's waited until now to say goodbye.
The farm looks different than it did that day in Spring. There's a tree growing in her field now, and the delicate veins of her cabbages have been replaced by something he doesn't recognize, something whose leaves are thick and dark and spiky.
Finally, he reaches the farmhouse. He thinks of cabbages and chocolate cookies, of fountains and benches, of Daisy's tears and Ethel and Stuart's acceptance.
He thinks of summer's end.
He thinks of goodbyes.
Finally, he thinks of his father, his kingdom, his heritage.
Then, he thinks of her.
He does not hesitate as he lifts his hand to knock.