tamingthemuse | 113-Swank-Buried Cosmos (Harvest Moon)-tiaordona

Title: Buried Cosmos
Author: tiaordona
Fandom: Harvest Moon. Which by the way, I do not own. Shocker. XD
Rating: T for sexual themes.

The lavenders cradled in his hands are so delicate, so beautiful and fragrant and swank, that I can’t resist the urge to grasp one of the sun-warmed, velvet petals. It is a fine thing, a beautiful replacement for the week-old cosmos of my wedding day. The flowers are long dead, but there symbolism is no longer treasured by me. After all, I am no longer a young girl. Not anymore.

Marlin smiles at me as he places the long stems into a clean vase, brimming with cool water from the pasture’s pond. “Do you like them?” he asks bashfully.

The warm mauve, the feminine ruffle of petals… “Yes,” I answer boldly, taking his hand and collapsing on to the bed next to him.

“Good,” Marlin breathes, grasping me more tightly. I can’t shrug away the dewy heat of his body. It raises me, awakens me, becomes the bane of my existence just as he had done himself.

The afternoon sun shines harshly upon the ranch. Summer is rapidly approaching…I can feel it in the arid temperature, the sweat that trickles down my neck and temples. It is exciting…summer is a time of simple pleasures, of bliss, of love, a time to go to the beach and curl up in the sand, watching the world fly by… The thought of having a loved one at my side this year makes my chest swell.

As the days of the week had passed, I found a growing, continual love for Marlin. He always complimented my cooking, always took the time to clear the table when I was busy, helped sow the seeds to create new life, new energy, for the people of Forget-Me-Not Valley…they say that marriage is a way of separation, but it is my belief that the marriage has brought us closer together.

The seven days of being a newlywed had been chaste, unadulterated heaven. The small things-waking up and seeing his gorgeous head on the pillow next to mine, walking with arms linked to the market, his smile as he savors the warm taste of home cooking at the Inn-all blend together into a smooth, new way of life. Each day is attractively different, and yet thankfully, the same.

My thoughts immediately fly from their trail when I feel Marlin grasp my forearm. His blue eyes are smoldering, hazy with something I can’t recognize. Something digging deep, its roots burrowed into him, long-suppressed. Something alarmingly instinctual, carving into a million years of human existence. An expression of urgency, that something that cannot be set aside anymore, that demands attention.

And then the curtains life and I see lust…pure, unrestrained lust. Everything surfaces as he kisses my arm, his lips trailing up its tender inner part. His lips are soft and gentle, barely a touch in itself, and yet, they leave a trail of erotic fire behind them. I can feel the thoughts, how careful he is to not inflict harm on me, snap me in half like a twig…

And at this moment, I am utterly terrified at the things my husband can do.

Adrenaline beats its way through me as I gracelessly leap from the bed, shaking violently. He gives me a look of confusion, the spark slowly fading out of his eyes. “Uh…Marlin, I…” I whisper slightly, hesitantly, carrying on. “I…I’m just not ready for this yet.”

The hurt is too livid for me as it stabs right through his face, an immediate transformation. He hangs his head and looks awkwardly at his bare feet that crinkle the crisp linens. “You don’t trust me…” he mumbles.

A stab of pain pierces my own heart. “No, no!” I stutter with haste. “I…I…just…don’t…”

The hurt slides away slowly, and the expressionless façade swallows him whole, eats him alive, just as it did when I had first met him. “I understand…” He moves away from me slightly. “I’m sorry…”

I crumble in upon myself, feeling awful at how cowardly I am. I silently scold myself as I slide into bed next to him. He drapes a tentative arm around my waist harmlessly, and I can sense all the lust, completely gone. He is just my husband, lying on the bed. Things are so ordinary, all of the sudden, that I can’t help but wonder if those predictions of his thoughts were actually true.

A no-good wife…

Nestling into Marlin’s muscular, toned chest, my eyes travel to the beautiful lavenders in the corner of the room. What are they called? Oh yes, Ethel Grace, a common, pleasing flower that appears to be swank, yet it is easy to grow.

Just like people. Swank, elaborate clothes, elegant makeup, and ornate jewelry can detract from one’s true image, a reflection of their inside that they insist upon hiding from the rest of the world.

---

“I’m going to work at Vesta’s.”

The new day’s dawn is a beautiful one. The pinks and purples shoot from the clouds, tinting the sky a childish shade of pale yellow. Overtop the horizon are the hills and mountains, completely blackened from the light behind them, making the nostalgic scene more dramatic. At the same time, I can almost taste the drama in the air as I turn to face my husband. He has a determined set to his jaw, an expression that I can never refuse. But the things that alarm me are his eyes…where the ice has melted into steaming water, cold, flat glass has returned overtop of his emotions, blanketing his thoughts safely away from me.

“Vesta’s?” I ask quietly, anxiously kneading my palms against one another.

He nods. “I promised Vesta, and…” He pauses as the name passes over his lips, “Celia that I would be there to help them out. Now with the Spring harvest coming up soon…”

He’s lying. I can feel the lies in the way he looks at the ground, the way his hands are gripping each other behind his back, the way his arms are so tight at his sides that it would take me an hour to iron the creases from the button-down shirt he is sporting today. I feel horrible, ashamed at the thought that he would ever hide anything from his life.

Somewhere in my head, I know this has to do with yesterday.

I sigh and scratch the back of my neck. My hair is already plastered to the sweat on my neck after watering the fields by hand, by myself…it is clear, how much I need Marlin in my life. “All right. I’ll see you at four.”

He nods once respectfully, and then heads outside. And I am left alone for the first time in seven beautiful days, with nothing but the breaking dawn to keep my company.

The lavenders in my vase are already beginning to wilt. Their petals droop in mortal exhaustion, browning and creasing at the edges, withering with a sign of remarkable age. Perhaps Marlin should not have picked them out…

So these flowers wilt quickly. Their masks are down, and they are truly exposed. And we, as humans, with our hatred of ugly things, toss them aside, not willing to embrace the new insides of the flower we once marveled.

Society only accepts the swank.

But in a world where emotions and feelings are in control, the term “swank” means nothing.