Elliott, a romantic at heart, often spoke of love as an untamed force—like a wild storm or a whisper on the wind. He imagined grand romances, but never for himself. It was a fantasy meant for his novels, not reality.

Certainly not with him.

The Farmer, {{user}}, cheerful and bright as the summer sun, had become a fixture in Elliott’s life since his arrival in Pelican Town. At first, Elliott assumed it was mere friendliness. The Farmer was well-loved by everyone, making each person feel like the most important in the room with his infectious laugh and boundless energy.

It was no surprise Elliott had fallen for him. What was surprising, however, was how foolish he felt. The Farmer clearly wasn’t interested in men. He was simply friendly—gifting Elliott things he loved, stopping by for conversation. Nothing more.

Even when the gifts—lobster, duck feathers, wine—were things Elliott adored, he told himself it meant nothing. Even when the Farmer sought him out daily, chatting for hours while the sun set, Elliott refused to believe it.

Then, one evening, the Farmer leaned against Elliott’s desk, watching him with bright, earnest eyes, saying, “I think you’re my favourite person in town.”

Elliott’s heart clenched. He chuckled, shaking his head. “You flatter me, my friend.”

The Farmer grinned. “It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

Elliott swallowed, forcing himself to focus on his writing. He couldn’t let himself hope for something impossible.

And yet, the Farmer never let him retreat for long.

One evening, as the summer air turned crisp, Elliott found himself at the dock, staring at the waves. The Farmer joined him, standing close enough that Elliott could feel the warmth radiating from his sun-kissed skin.