Chapter Text
Life had been going pretty well in Pelican Town. Your farm was blossoming beautifully. Your sales were higher than ever. You'd learned how to make wine and age cheese. You had even gotten good at fishing. You were a changed person---completely opposite of who you were in the city. So much more exercise. So many new friends. So many reasons to participate and be active in life. Plus, all that time out in the sun had inspired you to start writing again and you just finished your first draft. Luckily, Pelican Town was filled with willing, if a little inept, beta readers who were down to give constructive criticism.
Leah was great for descriptive work. She wasn't shy to take red ink to your copy and offer descriptive suggestions. Shane was great for angst. Harvey was one of the most beneficial since he was fact-checking all your injury and fight scenes. Penny was already a big bookworm so she was great at comparing readability and plot points to let you know how sellable this book would actually be. Maru was great at sensitivity reading. And Sam was one of the biggest hype-men you knew, even though it had been a month and he'd only made it one chapter in.
You'd handed out all but two of your copies. One, you kept for yourself. Each night you'd read a chapter and make your own edits, deletions, and additions without the input of anyone else. The other copy sat on the entrance table by your front door. Each time you walked past it, it aggravated you. It wasn't supposed to be sitting there. It was meant to be with probably the most helpful person in Pelican Town, at least in terms of literature. That copy was meant to have the most red ink on it. It was the copy meant to be the thickest---filled to the brim with Post-Its and paper scraps. It was meant to come back to you with the pages slightly warped due to the humid sea air. But no. It sat there on your entrance table. Collecting dust.
Whatever. You weren't going to beg for his attention. You weren't going to beg for his precious input if he didn't want to give it. You could write a fine book without him. And whenever he finally finished whatever he was working on, you'd ignore him the way he'd ignored you. Of course, that would require the great lump to actually finish his book. It would require him to stop spending hours upon hours in the library pretending to research when he was truly procrastinating. You'd managed to write your book while maintaining a farm, a business, and a months-long mining expedition. What did he have to show for the past two years? Fuck all. That's what.
You grimaced as you stared at the book from the kitchen table. Your cereal had gone soggy. You ignored the loud screech of your chair against the linoleum as you kicked away from the table and shoved your bowl into the sink. Cereal for supper wasn't new for you. Most of the produce on your farm went to friends or to the market. Usually, that left you with little food of your own. Luckily, you loved Lucky Charms. You weren't against eating the same thing every day. Besides, you were usually lucky enough to get a cooked meal from Evelyn or Marnie. You checked the clock and sighed. If you didn't leave now, you'd be late. Leah had invited you over to check out her newest piece of art. Critique partners, you called yourselves.
So, you stepped into your large snow boots and threw on your big coat and scarf. If Leah was anyone else, or if she lived any further away, you would have told her to fuck off. But maybe a brisk winter walk would do you good. You hated seeing your farm so white and open and baron. Luckily, even through the steady snowfall, you could see the lights in your lighthouse and knew you still had plenty of produce on the go. You loved the crunch of snow beneath your boots. You were careful to grip the trunk of the tree beside the slippery ice patch you'd nearly broken your ankle on during your first winter here and before you knew it, you were coming up on the warm glow of Leah's cottage.
You stomped your feet on the little porch to get off as much snow as you could and then stepped forward to knock loudly.
"Come in!" You heard faintly from inside. The door slides open easily enough and you walk into the fire-warmed room.
"It's colder than a witch's tit out there." You huff out, pulling off your coat and scarf, and hanging it on one of the hooks beside the door. Besides your big coat hangs Leah's olive green one, and besides that one hangs... hangs... Ah fuck.
You turn around quickly and your eyes find his immediately. He's sat atop one of Leah's stools with his long ginger hair combed all to one side. His posture is perfect as he sits with his hands in his lap and a lazy smile on his face. He wore one of his old-timey, billowy t-shirts with half of the buttons undone, exposing his seemingly hairless chest. His pants were dark red and came up past his navel, slimming his waist as his long slender fingers intertwined between his open thighs.
"Don't let the wizard here you talking about his ex like that, Y/N." He cooed as he turned his gaze back to Leah. Leah was across the room from him, hidden by a large canvas. Beside her stood another stool upon which she had precariously balanced her art supplies. Instantly the cold on your cheeks, nose, and ears dissipates into blaring heat.
"I'm surprised you still came, Y/N." Leah said from behind the canvas. "I thought the moment it started snowing you would have bailed."
"Why would I do that?" You asked, still glaring at Elliot. You slipped off your snow boots and left them at the door as you padded over to where Leah's standing. "You could have called to tell me he was here." You whispered.
"Oh, relax." She whispered, brushing you off. "It started snowing and I figure, like a normal person, he wouldn't want to have to go out until it slowed down. He's just here until it lets up." She whispered. You turned to see what she was painting and couldn't help but roll your eyes. You wondered just how many portraits he already had of himself and here was another. "Just have a seat. It won't be much longer before I need to let this layer dry." She said this loudly enough for Elliot to hear. You looked over the canvas at him and grimaced as his eyebrow raised slowly.
"Don't forget the horns." You gestured to the painting's forehead and sneered at Elliot's lazy eye roll. Before Leah can chide you, you saunter off to sit on the edge of her bed. You look out the window and sigh. This snow is not about to let up any time soon. Elliot's going to be here for hours and you know Leah well enough to know you will be too. She was totally right. You should have canceled. "Where's the piece you wanted me to check out?" You asked. Perhaps if you could get your job done quickly, you could still make it back before this turned into a blizzard.
"Under my bed." She spoke over her shoulder without breaking concentration.
"Ahh, is it that one?" Elliot asked. Your stomach flipped over. Of course, she would have shown it to him first. She hummed in agreement and you rolled your eyes. You dropped to your knees and bent over to search under Leah's bed. To your surprise (and not), you found a large stack of canvas there. You assumed she'd be wanting your opinion on the latest painting, so you grabbed the top canvas and pulled. "It's not that one, Y/N." Elliot called over. You hated the way he said your name, as if it was a foreign word in his mouth. You sighed and pulled out the next one. "Oh, for heaven's sake." You heard Elliot sigh and then suddenly, his large stature was towering over you. You quickly scrambled back and away from him as he looked down at you, those narrow green eyes slicing through you. "This one." Elliot barely looked under the bed before grabbing and smaller canvas off to the side and holding it out to you. He hadn't even bent all the way down---like he knew exactly where it was.
"I would have found it eventually." You chided, grabbing the painting from him. His lip quirked upward and his eyebrow raised again.
"Of course, you would have." He muttered and then returned to the stool and slid back into his pose like it was second nature. Your ears weren't only warm now, they were burning. Your cheeks too. You looked down and found that you were gripping Leah's painting tightly and you quickly let up your grasp. It was a painting of a crab. She'd gone for a macro, high-detail, realistic style. Your eyes were drawn in by the feint blue and green highlights.
"Woah." You breathed out.
"I know." Elliot muttered. You would be angry with him again, but Leah's work was flawless.
"This is stunning, Leah." You whispered. "Really. Truly amazing. The colors you used are just... woah." You became slightly speechless at the sight.
"Well, shit." Leah giggled, her cheeks flushing pink. She'd put down her paintbrushes and was looking at you now. "You think so? I don't usually go for such high realism but I was curious about how much detail of the shell I could get in." She moved away from the canvas and joined you on the floor, looking down at the painting.
"This is really amazing. It must have taken you forever." You said.
"Yeah, a little bit. Luckily I had a photo for reference." She looked over at Elliot as she said the words. He smiled at her, moving to sit comfortably on the stool.
"I didn't know we were taking pictures of pests." You muttered under your breath.
"Y/N." Leah smacked you on the shoulder and Elliot's eyes just narrowed. Just then, the phone on the wall rang loudly and Leah bounced up to answer it.
"Hey, Marnie---Are you okay?---Is Shane home?---Okay, I'll be right there." She gripped the phone tighter as she spoke and then slammed it back down onto the receiver. "Hey, sorry guys. Marnie fell in her tub and needs someone to come help her out. Please, just stay here. I won't be gone long."
You jumped up from the floor and Elliot stood up from his stool.
"Oh my gosh, do you need help?" You asked.
"No. No." Leah was already putting her snow boots and coat on. "No. Shane is home, but she doesn't want him to see her in that state. I doubt she wants either of you to see it either. Really, just have a seat. I won't be long. When I get back I'll make hot chocolate." She turned to the door and pulled it open, then turned back to you. "Behave." She warned, pointing a finger at both you and Elliot. With that, the door slammed shut behind her. You and Elliot stood in silence for not a moment longer than a breath.
"I should probably head out." You instantly caved. "I did what I came here to do and if I rush, I can beat the storm." You didn't need to explain yourself to him. So, why did you?
"Be my guest." Elliot gestured to the door. "Should I tell Leah you couldn't handle more than three seconds with me? Or should I tell her that her art means less to you than a silly feud?" He asked, turning to the dining table where his thin red overcoat lay.
"What?" You asked, turning back to him.
"She asked you to stay." Elliot said, slipping his toned arms into the sleeves. "She asked us both to stay. She said she'd make hot chocolate."
"I could fucking hear her." You snapped and his eyebrows rose.
"Okay, then. So, your choice to leave is a selfish one then?" He asked, slowly walking toward you again, buttoning his t-shirt buttons, and covering up his chest.
"Fine, I'll stay then." You muttered, avoiding watching his slender fingers work. He stops a pace away from you and looks at you. "Can I help you?" You asked.
"I sincerely doubt it." He smirked. You scowled and your eyes dropped to his breast pocket.
"You have a crab in your pocket." You mean to say it with as much disgust as you can, scrunching your nose, and raising an eyebrow. He looked down and chuckled dryly.
"Hmm, it appears I do." He muttered, lifting his finger to poke the pincher poking out of his pocket like a copper pocket square.
"Side effects of living in a rundown shack, I suppose." You shrugged and stepped away to sit by the fire.
"I could have put it in there by choice, you know." You smiled at the way his voice hitched a bit. He absolutely had not put it there on purpose. He was used to people thinking it was adorable for him to have sea creatures in his breast pocket. He wasn't used to people insinuating that it made him any less put-together than he always was.
"Sure." You shrugged. "But did you?"
"I could have." He repeated.
"Yes. You could have. But did you?" You repeated in the same accusatory tone.
You heard the stomping of his feet and then saw him drop down and sit next to you by the fire.
"They're not pests." He sounded like a child giving an excuse. In fact, he even folded his arms across his chest in defiance.
"Sure. And all the rats on my farm are pets too. That's why I bought a shotgun. You know, to kiss them with."
"That's vile." He made a gagging noise and shifted away from you.
There was silence then. You hoped Leah would return soon. It didn't matter though. At this rate, you wouldn't be able to see the road home let alone walk it. It was coming down so hard outside that you couldn't see the lights of Marnie's house across the way. You sighed and leaned back on your hands, letting your feet stretch out toward the fire and your head roll back between your shoulders.
"I think Leah has some whiskey around here." Elliot said quietly. You didn't reply---You didn't even acknowledge that he'd said anything. Nevertheless, he pulled himself away from the floor and headed to the small kitchen. As he rustled around in there, the phone on the wall began to ring. You sat for a moment, just staring at the fire. When it rang for the 5th time, you peeled yourself off the floor and went to pick it up.
"Leah's residence, Y/N speaking." You answered, unsure if it might be a client.
"Please don't hate me." Leah's frazzled voice came through the phone. Your skin bristled and your jaw set tight.
"Why would I hate you?" You asked carefully, desperately not wanting to hear her response.
"Marnie's door got snowed in. I can't leave unless I climb out the damned window and Marnie won't let me do that. She's still in pain and Jas is freaking out so she asked me to stay for a bit. Please, please, don't hate me." She whined.
"I'm going home." You grumbled, making to put the phone down.
"Y/N!" She yelled into the phone. "You can't. You'll get sick, or hurt, or lost. It's coming down harder than it has in years. Please, it can't be that bad. It's just a couple hours. One night at the most."
"Leah, I'm going to kill you!" You spat into the receiver, lowering your voice when you felt Elliot's presence behind you.
"Yeah. Yeah. Let me talk to Elliot." She insisted. You turned on your heel and stare at Elliot with your jaw set tight.
"She wants to speak to you." You grumbled. He put the bottle of whiskey he'd found on the stool he'd been sitting on and reached for the phone. You let it go before he could get a grip on it and let it slam against the wall. He looked at you and huffed loudly before shoving past you and bringing the phone up to his ear.
"Are you serious?" He muttered after some time. "Leah---I can't---No, I can't---I'm going to murder you." At least your sentiments were shared then. Perhaps if you both focused on killing Leah, you might not kill each other. Eventually, he put the phone down and sighed heavily. "Well, I hope she knows she's coming home to an empty liquor cabinet." Elliot muttered under his breath.
"Is there more where that came from?" You gestured to the single half-empty bottle on the stool.
"Thankfully, yes." Elliot nodded and trudged off to the kitchen.
Fucking hell, Leah. I'm seriously going to kill you.