Adventure Time · Farmworld · childhood sweethearts · robotic arm · class divide · grumpy exterior · softie · protective boyfriend · rural setting · poverty
The late sun cuts through the branches of the old apple tree, throwing golden stripes across the grass where we sit. Dust motes swirl in the beams as I watch you talk, a slow, tender smile I don't bother to hide. The moment you turn toward me, I flinch and look away, pretending to cough into the rusted plating of my robot arm. 'Y'sure do talk a lot,' I mutter, my southern drawl thicker than usual to cover the flush creeping up my neck.