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Never in her entire life had a birthday mattered more.
And fuck, it wasn't even her own birthday.
When Ryan had seen the date on the calendar outside of Pierre's for the first time, she choked on her coffee. Dr. Harvey, heading back into the clinic to start his day, had rushed over at once. He slapped her on the back brusquely a few times, a concerned hand landing on her shoulder.
"'m good," Ryan wheezed, waving Harvey off as he fretted over her. "Wrong pipe."
"You really shouldn't be drinking while you're walking," Harvey chided lightly, finally relenting and accepting that she wasn't actively dying. "Nothing is as important as a clear airway. Not even coffee, though I admit, I understand the temptation." He chuckled, cheeks pinking as he gestured with his own coffee cup.
"You got it, doc," she said after clearing her throat again. It was scratchy and uncomfortable now, but another sip of hot coffee soothed the worst of it.
With another concerned warning against too large gulps and regulating the temperature of her brews, Harvey bid her goodbye and disappeared into his clinic, leaving Ryan alone with the calender once more.
She narrowed her eyes at the offending date and the text scrawled on it.
October 13th.
Abigail Mercer's Birthday!
Ryan had known it was coming, of course. They'd talked about birthdays and ages and all that fun stuff a long time ago, back when Ryan was first being accepted into the folds of the ASS trio. Ryan was first of the lot — and also the oldest — in June, then Sam in July, followed by Abby in October — the youngest of them all — and Sebastian in December. And, with the pumpkins plump in her fields and the autumn sun overhead, there was no doubt that October had arrived, even without the calendar declaring it.
But damn if Ryan hadn't forgotten it until that exact moment.
She tried to do the math quickly in her head, then settled on counting the days on the calendar under her breath when the numbers got too jumbled. She had just under a week: entirely too late to try to order anything, even if she was able to convince Sebastian to let her use his computer to do so and keep it a secret from Abby. She knew he probably would anyway, but he'd most certainly be annoying about it.
There were few things Sebastian seemed to enjoy more than annoying Ryan. He and Sam had grown into the little brothers that Ryan had never had, nor ever wanted, but was stuck with regardless. And Abby…
Ryan could feel her cheeks heating just at the thought.
Leaving the calendar behind for the beach, Ryan got to work fishing the tilapia that Demetrius had insisted were overrunning the local ecosystem. From the amount of time it took to hook even one, Ryan thought he was full of shit, but hey, gold was gold. The lack of bites on her bobber gave her mind plenty of room to wander back to Abby and what in the world she was supposed to get for her birthday and their friendship.
It felt a little silly to call Abby her friend, though, Ryan thought.
A friend wouldn't spend the entire night willing her racing heart to calm itself after one goodbye hug after an afternoon together.
A friend wouldn't forget to listen to the words coming out of their other friends' mouths, too caught up in the tendrils of purple hair escaping a messy bun, the twirl of drumsticks in a trick that she hadn't quite gotten the hang of yet.
A friend wouldn't be so damn worried about what she thought of them, if anything resembling reciprocation of feelings that they couldn't even put a name to was even remotely on the table.
A friend wouldn't spend the better part of the rest of the week frantically trying to put together the best birthday gift they could think of, given their limited time, resources, and gold.
And yet, that was exactly what Ryan did, because fuck if Ryan was going to let something as pesky as feelings or labels or the way her mouth went dry at the very sight of Abby stand in the way of making her happy.
If there was one thing that Ryan was put in this Valley to do, it was to do her best to make Abby happy through any means possible. Even if it was the last thing she ever did.
At home that night, rifling through her mess of chests, Ryan went back and forth for hours. She had a pile of amethysts, but so did Abby. There were pumpkins aplenty, but Ryan had already given her one from the very first harvest not two weeks ago. She'd found a wayward packet of Stardrop Tea in a geode, of all places, but it felt a little too impersonal.
"What the fuck am I doing?" Ryan groaned, flopping backwards onto the floor, letting her arms splay out.
As if sensing her turmoil, Umbreon took this as invitation to pop up onto her chest, perching on her sternum and mewing curiously at her.
"What would you get someone you like for their birthday, bud?" she asked, scratching under his chin. He purred loudly, leaning into it. A tendril of drool leaked out of the side of his mouth, dripping onto her hand. She cringed, laughing. "Drool on her? I think I already nearly do that. Don't think it's particularly helpful, bud, but I'll keep it in mind. Thanks anyway."
Seemingly satisfied that his advice was being heeded, Umbreon took his leave, making sure to step with all his weight in the dead center of her tit as he went.
"Yeah, just step wherever," she muttered, rubbing the sore spot. "Why do you weigh like fifty pounds? Diet-time for you."
Umbreon hissed in her general direction, then jumped into what was supposed to be her foraging chest. Every chest started out with good intentions, with an explicit purpose, with the idea that this chest would be the last one she needed to really get organized. As if this one specific chest would magically fix a lifetime of absolutely nothing staying organized for more than five minutes at a time in her general vicinity. It wasn't Ryan's fault, obviously.
She was content to leave him in the chest — everything in this house was already covered in cat hair anyway — until the telltale sound of a cat chewing on something they shouldn't be chewing on drifted out. Ryan was on her feet in an instant, grabbing Umbreon by the jaw and prying the plastic sandwich bag of blackberries out of his mouth.
"What is the obsession with eating plastic?!" she demanded, holding the bag well out of his reach. A quick once over confirmed that he'd only gotten so far as making a few puncture marks in the bag, but hadn't actually made it through to the berries themselves, nor gotten any chunks of the plastic off. "One of these days, I'm gonna let you do it and laugh when you come crying about a tummy ache. Yeah, how does that sound, huh?"
Umbreon meowed indignantly at her, eyes narrowed. With a flick of his tail, he hopped out of the box and went to inevitably find something else to get into.
Ryan rubbed her forehead, sighing. She loved the creature, but it was like having an incredibly agile toddler around at all times. A toddler who had knives for fingers and an attitude that rivaled her own.
"And now I have to find a new container for these… blackberries…"
Ryan trailed off, the gears in her head turning slowly as she stared at the bag. A passing comment presented itself as if on a silver platter, from a conversation about their favorite Winter Star foods.
"Pumpkin soup, for sure," Sebastian had said immediately. "My mom makes the best."
"I keep trying to get Gus to bring pizzas every year for the feast, but he never listens. The cranberry jam is pretty good though," Sam had shrugged. "I'm not big on a lot of Winter Star stuff."
"Anything a little tart is my favorite," Ryan had declared. "And candy canes. Gus mentioned that he makes some from scratch every year, I might ask-"
"Don't!" Sam had blurted, eyes wide.
"Save yourself," Sebastian had agreed immediately, nodding sagely. "Whatever you're thinking of asking, just don't. You'll be there for hours."
"Oooo-kay, nevermind," Ryan had laughed. "Abby, what's your Winter Star go-to?"
The three of them had all spoken at the same time.
"Blackberry cobbler."
Sam grinned cheekily at Abby, who was now blushing lightly, clearly embarrassed. "She nearly punched George a few years ago when he took the last piece."
"I did not!"
"You were absolutely about to," Sebastian countered. "Remember how your mom ran over with another one right after? The whole town was holding it's breath for Hurricane Abby."
Now, staring at the little bag of blackberries, Ryan was doing an inventory in her head of where the rest of them were and how many she'd need for a cobbler. Did she know how to make a cobbler? What was a cobbler? She didn't even have a kitchen. How fast could Robin build a kitchen?
Reinvigorated, inspiration flowing, Ryan scooped Umbreon up and started back for the farmhouse. She had several phone calls to make.
—
On the morning of October 13th, Ryan rushed through her morning chores. She'd worked late into the night the night before, dodging the golems on her heels to get as much done ahead of time as possible so she had nearly the whole day off.
Sans the watering, of course. She had way more crops than she had sprinklers. Ryan really needed to fix that before spring, especially if she wanted to set up that whole strawberry grove like Grandpa had.
But even with her crops needing to be painstakingly hand watered, Ryan was still in the shower by eight and rushing off the farm by eight thirty, backpack straps tugging painfully on her still-wet hair. The mountain path towards Sebastian's was beautiful this time of year, sunlight streaming through the yellow and orange leaves, backlit by a crystal clear blue sky. As much as she wanted to linger and take her time, she had a schedule to stick to.
Linus' tent was the first stop, where he was already waiting for her. The fire was roaring, a tripod stand situated over the flames.
"Good morning, Ryan," he greeted. He pursed his lips to hold back his laughter when she finally dropped her bag to the ground in a huff. "Have you got everything?"
"And more," Ryan groaned. "Why is flour so heavy?"
Linus did laugh that time, but it wasn't malicious in the slightest. He gestured towards the long, flat log that already held a cast iron pan, indicating for her to set up shop there. Ryan dutifully emptied her bulging bag, producing enough ingredients for two blackberry cobblers: one for Abby, and one for Linus. It was her thanks for helping, since Robin was not, in fact, able to finish a kitchen in time and Ryan didn't trust anyone else to not yap about her plans to Abby.
And, three hours later, covered in flour and way more sticky than she'd planned on, they had exactly that: two cobblers that couldn't possibly be mistaken for bakery quality, but smelled divine all the same. Ryan left Linus with the first one — it was at his insistence that he take the worse of the two — and carefully maneuvered the second onto the platter she'd begged Caroline for, then tucked it into the carrying case Caroline had insisted on providing as well.
Standing outside of Pierre's, Ryan tried to calm her breathing, to remove the flush from her cheeks. It was a losing battle, her heart racing a million miles a minute.
Ryan had been in denial for a long time about her feelings for Abby, but this felt like a turning point. Make or break, it had to be absolutely perfect.
She pushed the door open, waving to Pierre on instinct. She didn't make it three steps into the shop before he was stopping her, eyes locked on the cobbler case.
"Abigail went for a walk, if that's what you're here for," he said. "She left fifteen minutes ago."
Ryan cursed, shooting Pierre an apologetic grimace after his reprimand.
She wasn't in any of the normal places Ryan could think to look. She wasn't on the bridge by Joja. She wasn't in Cindersap Forest by the wizard's tower. She wasn't walking along the river. She wasn't at Sam's, nor Sebastian's, neither of which had seen her at all that day.
Dejected, Ryan started back down the path to the farm. Her arm was aching from carrying the cobbler around all day, her shoulders from wearing the heavy backpack with all the extra flour. And it was all for nothing, Abby suddenly disappearing into thin air.
But, passing the bus stop, a flash of purple caught her eye.
There, on a quilt spread across the grass behind the dilapidated bus, was Abby. Laying on her back, eyes closed, hair fanned out above her, she looked ethereal in the afternoon autumn light. Ryan stopped dead in her tracks, rendered near speechless at the sight.
The nerves that had faded as she searched slammed back in full force.
Abby's head tilted towards her as she approached, hearing the brush of her feet in the grass. Her face split into a wide smile at she looked up at Ryan, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand. She looked radiant. Gorgeous. Stunning. Happy.
Happy that Ryan was there.
And suddenly, all the nerves were gone again.
"Happy birthday," she said, dropping down to sit cross-legged on the quilt beside her. "I've been looking for you all day… have you been here the whole time?"
Abby smiled sheepishly, sitting up and straightening her shirt. "Maybe. I wasn't sure what your plans for the day were, but I figured if I just sat here, I'd see you when you went out."
Ryan groaned, covering her blushing face with her hands. "I left on the mountain path this morning. You should've told me you wanted to hang out."
"The mountain path?" Abby repeated, suspicion clear in her voice. "Did you go to the mines without me?"
"What? No. Of course not. But… well, here."
She pulled the cobbler out from behind her back, watching Abby's face intently.
Recognition.
Confusion.
Abby opened the case, staring at the fresh blackberry cobbler.
Surprise.
Excitement.
Abby looked up at Ryan.
Adoration.
Success.