universe: stardew valley
characters: alex (stardew valley), cooper (oc); mentions of haley (stardew valley), sebastian (stardew valley), george (stardew valley), taiwo (oc, belonging to Kiose_ ). alex/cooper, with implied, past alex/sebastian.
tags/triggers: angst, hurt no comfort, first kiss; internalised homophobia, f-slur
word count: 791
notes: title from re-do by modern baseball. typed up by Kiose_ (thank you so much bestie!!) from handwritten. this is a oneshot for an eventual fic we'll (hopefully) be doing together at some point, with our ocs and the stardew valley characters!

...

Alex had never expected things to go this badly wrong.

Two new farmers, one familiar — totally fine. He'd been neighbourly, and they'd returned it tenfold, so much that he felt bad, almost, for his own attempts. He and Haley had been recieving home-grown gifts from the pair almost since their arrival: but only one of the two he really took interest in, and slowly such gifts trickled down to only being recieved from Cooper.

They were total opposites — yet another reason Alex was confused as to how it had gone this far. It started with fresh eggs and ended in confessions to understanding expressions, burdens shared as he lay them across the pair; Alex ever-guilty about laying such things on Cooper — quiet, doting Cooper, who could cheer him up like nobody else at all. His soft kindnessess had worn Alex down so that he was feeling — intensely — something long repressed, something he'd crushed underfoot with Sebastian years and years ago. This was too far — and Alex was cutting it off at the root.

Here Cooper was now, innocently looking at him, lips poised to pour out comfort as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Alex choked on his tongue, unable to cough up the words. How the hell do you even say it? — I love you, I'm scared of that; I can't anymore, sorry, don't talk to me again. All he wants is for this to be over.

"Alex—" Cooper starts. His hand shifts and rests on Alex's thigh, and this is too much. Cooper is too sweet for this; too smart to be trapped in a small town with a small-town failed sports star, some dumb jock who could never match his skill.

Alex doesn't cry. He bites his cheek, tries to ignore Cooper's warm hand, prepared to tell Cooper to leave him be forever, because he's too weak to crush his feelings alone when he knows — hopes beyond logic — that they're reciprocated—

"Are you and Taiwo, uh, a thing?" He ventures.

Cooper suddenly lightens — is that all? He laughs; it's infectious, because he's right, that's a laughable question.

"No, of course not," he giggles, squeezing Alex's leg friendlily (and sending a horrid, electric glimmer of hope shining up from the contact).

"We're best friends. She's totally like my sister, I would never." He grins. "I thought it was obvious?"

"No, yeah. Uh," — that wasn't what I invited you here to say — "I guess it is." An attempt at lightness: "But is there anyone you like in the Valley?"

"Personal question," Cooper says awkwardly, suddenly stiff, as if they haven't lain each other bare, spilled things never confessed to anyone. He fidgets. Sparks of hope, despite every logical neuron telling Alex he is wrong, illuminate him suddenly; he smiles easily and nudges Cooper with a foot.

"So there is someone," he teases, trying to seem like this is nothing more than harmless talk between close friends. Cooper, now, is serious, looking at Alex like don't make me say it. Fuck.

Alex suddenly lurches forward, surprising the other boy on his bed, but the encroachment is nothing if not welcome; and though Alex started it, it is Cooper who follows through, pushing against his leg with such warm hands as he kisses Alex, now, deeply. This is so, so wrong, his mind screeches, the voice of old George — this isn't natural, even as his lips meld so perfectly with the other's, as Cooper's hand tightens and and his other arm takes Alex's back—

He pulls away, so harshly that it surprises even himself. Cooper moves as if electrocuted, hands at his sides, doe-like eyes shiny with hurt. "I'm sorry, Alex, I thought—"

The words Alex spits from his lips aren't his own, but echoes of others'. Upset glimmers staunchly on his face even as his brow creases in faux-anger; he speaks, low and rough, a different man, "Thought what?"

"That you—"

"We're just friends," Alex forces out. "It's unnatural for two guys to— to— I'm not a faggot, Cooper, okay? It isn't normal." None of the planned 'this isn't working's, the letting him down slowly or gentle separations. Alex tells Cooper everything, and Cooper has to comfort him. Alex lashes out like a child frightened, and Cooper has to deal with the fallout. This is how it has to be.

Alex's cheeks are wet when Cooper gets up to leave, when he watches this perfect boy tremble with repressed emotion and try walk slowly though all he wants to do is flee. And even though men aren't supposed to cry, everything spills out in hacking, painful sobs until Alex is worn down and empty, lying cold on top of his duvet.

How can he be so stupid?