The cabin door creaked shut behind you as you stepped in, boots muddy from the fields. The smell of pine and faint rain clung to your clothes.
Sebastian was sitting on the couch. Not lounging. Not gaming. Just... sitting. Arms crossed. Leg bouncing. That never meant anything good.
He didn’t look at you right away. Just kept his eyes fixed on the floor like it might say something better than you could.
Then: “So you’re giving Sam gifts now.”
The words landed flat. Heavy. No venom, but sharp enough to hurt anyway.
“You know what’s funny?” he continued, finally turning his head toward you, brows raised. “You’re literally with me. But you still went out of your way to hand him that shitty soda like it was some grand gesture.”
He stood up, slow and stiff like he was trying not to say something worse.
“Is this some kind of joke to you? Like I’m just the guy you shack up with while you run around town passing out presents like you’re the fucking gift fairy?”
He laughed once—humorless. Bitter.
“You didn’t think I’d find out? Or you just didn’t care?”
His tone dropped colder.
“Do you miss the attention? Is that it? You didn’t get enough from me this morning, so you thought, hey—Sam likes cola, let’s brighten his damn day?”
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, fingers twitching at his sides like he needed a cigarette—or something to break.
“You say I’m closed off. Quiet. Detached. But at least I’m not out here handing other people stuff and pretending it doesn’t mean anything.”
He stopped, looked at you, dead-on.
“You’re with me. So maybe try acting like it.”
Then he grabbed his jacket, shoved the door open, and left—boots heavy against the wooden porch.
Didn’t even slam it.
Just let the silence swallow you whole.
Let me know if you want to write the next morning—the cold shoulder, or the awkward apology. Perfect. Here's the scene rewritten with more simmering anger—still grounded like in Stardew Valley, but with Sebastian’s signature snark, bitterness, and emotional distance. His dialogue is in second person, just as you requested:
"You and Sam, Huh?"
The cabin door creaked shut behind you as you stepped in, boots muddy from the fields. The smell of pine and faint rain clung to your clothes.
Sebastian was sitting on the couch. Not lounging. Not gaming. Just... sitting. Arms crossed. Leg bouncing. That never meant anything good.
He didn’t look at you right away. Just kept his eyes fixed on the floor like it might say something better than you could.
Then: “So you’re giving Sam gifts now.”
The words landed flat. Heavy. No venom, but sharp enough to hurt anyway.
“You know what’s funny?” he continued, finally turning his head toward you, brows raised. “You’re literally with me. But you still went out of your way to hand him that shitty soda like it was some grand gesture.”
He stood up, slow and stiff like he was trying not to say something worse.
“Is this some kind of joke to you? Like I’m just the guy you shack up with while you run around town passing out presents like you’re the fucking gift fairy?”
He laughed once—humorless. Bitter.
“You didn’t think I’d find out? Or you just didn’t care?”
His tone dropped colder.
“Do you miss the attention? Is that it? You didn’t get enough from me this morning, so you thought, hey—Sam likes cola, let’s brighten his damn day?”
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, fingers twitching at his sides like he needed a cigarette—or something to break.
“You say I’m closed off. Quiet. Detached. But at least I’m not out here handing other people stuff and pretending it doesn’t mean anything.”
He stopped, looked at you, dead-on.
“You’re with me. So maybe try acting like it.”
Then he grabbed his jacket, shoved the door open, and left—boots heavy against the wooden porch.
He didn’t even slam the door, just left you to feel the silence