It’s a late morning in Pelican Town. You just sold some fish to Willy and earned quite a big amount of cash - at least, compared to what you’re used to. You were lucky both with your fishing rod and your crab pots.
“Ain’t you gonna sell me that one too? Very nice piece of lobster, it is.” Asks Willy, but you already have plans for that particular lobster.
“It’s a gift.” You answer with a mysterious smile.
As you head towards Elliott’s cabin, you start hearing something strange. There’s two voices coming from the hut. One you know and - dare you say it - love. It’s the voice of your favourite writer, with whom you’ve spent countless hours talking, flirting and helping him with his chapters. And precisely because you know it so well, you can tell that Elliott is in huge distress, even before you can understand the words.
The other voice belongs to an older man. You don’t know him, but you quickly piece the puzzles together. Now, that you came closer to the doors and can hear the voices clearly, you have a nasty feeling that you know exactly who is causing your friend to squirm and stutter, like he almost never does.
“I’ve told you, I’ll get you your stupid money next month!” Elliott raises his voice.
“My stupid money” The other person is calm, but you can sense the storm underneath. “was what paid for your university. Which you didn’t even finish.”
“Only because, as I always told you, I didn’t want to go to medical school!”
“Well, maybe if you’ve spent more time thinking realistically about your future, and less time chasing your unrealistic childhood dreams, you’d have a better living conditions than… this.”
You don’t see the person talking, but you know for sure that they just made a gesture around Elliott’s small, dusty home.
“Father…” Elliott tries as hard as he can to be calm. “I will get you the money. I’ve been commissioned to write a few commercials for the local newspaper. Just as I told you in a letter, your 2000g will be ready to pick up next month.”
The man scoffs, not even trying to hide contempt. “Commission for a commercial? Oh yes, I see that your goal about being an author is just about to be reached. I hope that the local newspaper pays well, because when I return to you next month you will be owing me 3000 gold.”
There is a moment of silence in the cabin. Elliott is speechless. You are too. What kind of % is this?! Even Joja Corp has a more lenient policy of collecting their debts.
“You can’t be serious.” Says finally Elliott. He sounds hopeless.
“Oh, I can assure you I am dead serious. If you don’t like my conditions, you shouldn’t have signed on that loan document.”
“You have made me sign it…” Elliott’s voice is now trembling with anger. “When I WAS EIGHTEEN! Barely a legal adult, and you screw me into some sick agreement that makes me pay you thousands of g if I don’t go the career path that you chose for me?! You call that fair?!”
“Absolutely.” The voice is still very calm, very cold and very… cruel. “Had you been paying attention on business class I and your mother payed extra for, you would have known how to properly read the contract. Instead you wanted to… scribble some nonsense. And where have that brought you?”
You look into your wallet and bite your lip. Inside are almost all your savings - the money you just got from Willy and most of what you had at home. The plan was to buy seeds and a reserve supply of hay for it… But as you’re making calculations in your head, you already know what you’re going to do.
Well, thank Yoba for the theatre club in high school.
“Hello Elliott!” You walk in without knocking, pretending to be in the highest spirits and to not even notice the stress and terror on your friend’s face. You pass the tall man in a suit (ridiculous choice for this warm weather) ignoring him completely, which brings you some semblance of satisfaction.
“Elliott, sorry that it’s so late” You put a big block of cash on his wooden table. “but I brought back the money you’ve lend me.”
Writer must have also attended theatre classes at some point, because the pace with which his expression changes from confused to absolutely serious could win him an Oscar.
“Thank you, y/n…” He reaches for the money, but his father snatches it before him. He looks at you and at the banknotes with distrust, licks his long, thick fingers and starts counting.
“Hundred and fifty… three hundred… Hmm.” He rises his eyebrows in surprise, the first genuine sign of emotion that he let out in your presence. “You can call yourself very lucky, son, this money is enough to pay off your debt… this instalment of it.”
You feel your insides boiling.
“So tell me… y/n, was it?” He acknowledges your presence for the first time, giving you the most fake, vicious smile you ever saw. “It is a frequent habit of my offspring to lend people such a significant sums of money?”
“Actually,” You lie without skipping a beat. “these are profits from Elliott’s investment.”
The man raises his eyebrows again.
“Investment?”
“Of course!” You smile cheerfully, while focusing all your thoughts on wishing that Elliott’s father would be struck by a lightning bolt, right then and there. “In the last season, Elliott encouraged me to take a risk and plant a certain cropp. The cropp he advised proved to be very profitable, and now I’m returning what Elliott gave me. With interest.”
“My son actually had enough of a brain to lend with interest? Pray, tell me, farmer… what were the cropps he so wisely advised you to plant?”
“Strawberries.” You still smile sweetly and don’t let yourself be caught on a lie in such an obvious way.
“Hmf.” Elliott’s father clearly isn’t happy that he can’t rub his deduction skills in your face. He turns to his son again. “Perhaps the hardships of rural life brought some manliness out of you. Let’s see, you ow me this much, so what’s left for you is….”
He takes a single banknote out of the bunch and drops it on the floor under Elliott’s shoes. He smirks, watching a helpless fury in his son’s eyes.
“Invest it wisely and maybe you can afford the next payment.” He says as he turns to open the door.
You can’t stand it.
“Excuse me, sir.” You say still sweetly smiling, but now letting a note of anger into your voice. “Didn’t you forget about something?”
The man looks at you with irritation, which for you means a small victory.
“What?”
“To congratulate your son.” Both Elliott and his father seem like they want to say something, but you don’t let yourself be interrupted. “You just witnessed him making a very smart, very profitable financial decision. Shan’t you congratulate him on that?”
“Little… farmer.” The man hunches over you in almost a threatening way. This time you have to try harder to maintain your self-confident face expression. “Making half-responsible decisions with his money is a bare minimum I would expect for an average man his age. Average. And being my son, he dropped below the bare minimum the moment he decided to pick up this stupid writing project of his.” Anger shows on your face and you attempt to say something, but this time the older man is on a dominant position. “He has to learn his place. And so, apparently, should you.”
Elliott’s father leaves in silence, leaving you both stunned for a moment. Writer is first to break the silence.
“T-thank you.” He says shyly and quietly, and it pains you to hear his voice brought down to this level. “You didn’t have to…”
“Don’t mention it.” You still boil with anger at the old man, wishing he was one of the skull cavern monsters you could unleash your sword upon. “This… this piece of shit. This garbage of a human!” You start walking around the cabin, your body can’t contain it’s energy. “The way he talked to you! That…”
Suddenly you stop all actions. Not only your steps and waving your hands, but it seems like your heart and lungs froze in time as well. You put your arms down, very calmly, looking at the writer with wide eyes. The reason is clear.
He flinched.
“Elliott…?” You say, suddenly in very calm voice. “Elliott, did you think that I…?
“N-no, of course not!” Despite the hot weather, Elliott is shaking. He clearly tries to stop his body from making that movement, but he is unable to. Instead he looks at you apologetically, as if he had anything to apologize for. “It’s nothing. I-it’s just…”
“Elliott.” You feel the cold fury flooding all of your insides. “Did he hit you?”
Writer shakes his head.
“Ever?”
No response.
You see red.
You don’t even know when you storm out of the cabin, rushing towards the street in which this poor excuse of a human left his expensive, fancy car. You want to run but something is stopping you, through the blood flow in your ears you hear Elliott’s voice, first very dimly, and then, as he manages to hold you in one place for longer, a little more clear.
“No! Y/n, please don’t go there! Please!”
You push forward, stopping only when you feel warm stream of tears on the back of your shirt.
“Please, y/n, don’t make it worse…” He whimpers. “Don’t make it worse…”
You snap out of your anger. What were you doing? Now the most important thing in the world is to make sure Elliott’s okay!
“I’m sorry…” You whisper and hug him as you both start to withdraw to his cabin. Behind you there’s a loud sound of a car engine and then you hear a leaving vehicle.
Despite the walk to his cabin being very short, by the end of it you practically carry Elliott. You help him sit on his bed, try to make sure he’s okay, ask if he needs anything. He barely responds, manely with nodding or shaking his head. Eventually all you can do is hug him tightly through his panic attack.
Luckily, it’s short. After about ten minutes Elliott’s breath is getting more even, and he is able to caress you gently with his hand.
“Thank you.” He whispers.
“I’m sorry.” You respond, unable to hold in tears any longer. “I f-feel like I’ve only made everything worse.”
“Are you kidding me?” You look in his face. It’s still bit pale, and you can still see dried remains of tears in the corners of his eyes, but the face he makes is pretty close to his usual, confident expression. “I’ve never had anyone so… chivalrously defend me.”
You smile through tears.
“Of course I did defend you, I…” you stop yourself a little. Maybe it isn’t the best idea to add the four-letter word into the mix of emotions you both are currently going through. “… I care about you. Very much.”
He smiles and hugs you tighter, and you can feel the strength coming back into his arms.
“I care about you too.” He whispers in your ear.