Quotev Backup

Standing on top of the abandoned dorm, Atticus is lost in thought. His eyes are trained on the lighthouse far off in the distance, but his mind is even further; this was his last year at Duel Academy.

His jaw clenches. He'd missed out on so much. He'd only been gone a year, but so much had happened, and so many people had been hurt because of him and his absence-

"Shoulda known I'd find you up here."

Atticus whirls around, no trace of his deep thoughts remaining. He smiles at the girl carefully stepping across the roof towards him, tossing you a flirtatious wink. "[Name]! Couldn't help being drawn to me tonight, could ya?"

You giggle a bit as you stop in front of him, a small package in your hands. "Well it's your birthday, isn't it? And I couldn't get past all your fangirls earlier, so," you hold the box out to him, "I'm bringing you your gift now!"

He thanks you, taking the box gently and then  sitting down, casually kicking his legs over the edge of the dorm roof. He motions for you to sit with him, and you do.

You observe him as the two of you sit in silence. His profile is a strong one, always looking determined, like he can handle anything- but now it seems he's got a weight on his shoulders.

"I wish you'd tell me more." Oops, you hadn't meant to say it. Atticus turns to look at you, a confused smile on his face. You hastily continue.

"You always try to be there for everyone else. It's really nice, actually; I love knowing I can turn to you for anything whenever I'm troubled. But," you bite your lip, looking for the right words, "you don't talk about yourself much anymore. Atticus, it's obvious that you're worried about something- will you talk to me about it?"

It's quiet for a moment as you stare at each other, but then Atticus chuckles. He brings a hand up and ruffles your hair. "You're cute, [Name]. You shouldn't look at me like that, I might jump ya." He tosses his head back to look at the sky. Being the end of October, the night sky is clear, and the air is crisp and revitalizing.

Atticus inhales deeply and doesn't look at you as he speaks.

"This is our last year together, and I'm worried that we'll go off our own ways after graduation and forget about each other." He sighs. "I hate the fact that everyone's memories of me are tainted now. I wouldn't blame anyone for leaving me as soon as they can."

His voice is light and airy, but it trembles. He clears his throat.

"My sister has almost made a choice on that teaching job. Chazz has already decided to go pro. Zane is healing, Syrus is helping, Jaden is going to travel-" his voice lowers. "You all accepted me even after what happened. I'm afraid of being alone again."

When he looks at you again, your breath catches in your throat. There's so much pain in his eyes. You reach for his hand.

"I'm not going to leave you, y'know." Your grip tightens. He smiles back.

"I appreciate the thought, [Name], but I don't want you to set aside the rest of your life for me."

"And what if I want you to be the rest of my life?"

He freezes at your words, a look of absolute wonder on his face. Suddenly fire is pulsing through your veins, and you feel like you could combust in embarrassment at any moment. You drop his hand as if it shocked you.

"Sorry, I really shouldn't be so forward- I know you're dealing with a lot- you probably have your eye on someone-"

He interrupts your stuttering by leaning forward, into your space, pressing his forehead up against your own, an amused look on his face and sparks seeming to fly from his eyes.

"Do you have any idea how cute you are, [Name]? I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life with you, if you'd have me." He brings himself closer, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth for only a moment- when he pulls back and looks at you, he laughs again. You've gone completely red.

You bring your hand up to your face, trying to hide your intense blush with a very fake scowl. "Y-you shouldn't tease girls like that, Atticus!"

He bats his eyes at you, grinning smugly. "Who's to say I didn't mean it?" You only pout harder, and he lets out a dramatic sigh, although he can't help his smile. "Here, let me make it up to you."

He gently pries your hand away from your face, brushing his lips over your knuckles before tracing his thumb in circles. Suddenly you're very aware of the electricity under your skin. You look up at him, and he's staring down at you with warm eyes. Once more he leans forward; your eyes focus on his lips, and he mutters so quietly you almost miss it. "Can I kiss you, [Name]?"

Not trusting your voice, you just nod, swallowing nervously. Atticus smiles at you genuinely before closing the distance, finally pressing his lips to yours. He pulls your one hand to his chest, bringing his other hand up to gently cup your face, and you sigh. He smiles.

When Atticus pulls back, he doesn't let go of your hand, instead staring intently.

"An engagement ring would look nice on you, y'know."

". . . don't say things like that!" You manage to wheeze out, and he laughs again. All trace of his previous sad demeanor gone, Atticus grins down at you.

The shrill ringing of your phone pierces through your skull, jarring you awake. You groan loudly. All your limbs feel like sand— sluggishly, you roll over, your pajamas sticking uncomfortably to your sweat-covered body.

Safe to say, you don't feel well.

For a moment, you grope blindly at your nightstand, trying to find your phone; when you don't find it quick enough, you crack an eye open, only to screw your eyes shut immediately. God, the light's far too bright, it'll cause a headache— well, a worse one than the phone has caused, anyways. Why won't it stop ringing?!

Finally, you find your phone, answering it just to stop that hellish sound.

"Hello?" Your voice is thick with sleep and something else.

"Hey, [Name], where are you?" Jaden's voice on the other end of the line.

"In bed. . . why, do you need me?" Your voice cracks somewhere in the middle.

"Well, it's not like you to miss class, so we just wondered—"

"Miss class?! What time is i—" you jolt upright, only to double over as a rough series of coughs tear their way out of your throat.

"Whoa, [Name], you don't sound too good," Jaden's voice trails off, and it sounds like he's relaying your condition to someone else. You take the chance to check the time— it's almost 10. You've missed a couple of classes, but there's still quite a few left; now that you're awake, might as well get going.

"I'm fine, it's just allergies," you assure him. "I'll see you guys at lunch." And before Jaden can argue, you've hung up on him, throwing yourself into the routine of getting ready.

Damn, you practically have to peel your pjs off, they're so soaked— and maybe it's just because you're in a rush, but you're a bit short of breath this morning, having to pause every few moments to rest. This is probably what you get for staying out in the cold with Chazz over Christmas.

☆☆☆

On one hand, the day feels like it's crawling by— you stumble into each class and then keep your eyes on the clock for each hour, knowing that you haven't retained a word of any of your lectures. But on the other hand, the day feels like it hasn't happened at all; your head feels like it's stuffed with cotton, and more than a few professors have gotten onto you about it today.

"—we'll go to the dueling field!"

The ends of your professor's statement finally register. The other students around you begin shoving their chairs back, pushing past each other, chattering excitedly. You're much slower to follow. When you try to stand, it feels like you're much heavier than normal. God, the room is spinning— you turn your head, trying to focus on one single point in the hopes that your vision will stop swimming. You move to climb the stairs leading to the exits, following all your classmates; somewhere on the edge of your hearing, you think that someone calls your name, but the ringing in your ears mounts and drowns out all other sounds. Your chest is heavy now too, and you're having to take deep breaths to get even a hint of air— hey, let's just rest for awhile.

☆☆☆

Chazz fidgets nervously as the professors recount their class roles; his class was pairing with yours for dueling practice, but he'd been searching the crowd since his group walked in, and he can't find you anywhere. When the professors look away, he pulls his PDA from his coat pocket and sends off a quick message. "Where the hell are you?"

When you don't respond, he turns to Bastion, who's standing next to him in the unorganized group of students. "Do you know where [Name] is?"

Bastion shakes his head. "Jaden said it sounded like she'd be in the rest of her classes, but our schedules don't intersect, so I haven't seen her. Why, is she not here either?"

Chazz anxiously looks back down at his PDA— no response. He's almost lost in his thoughts when Bastion nudges him, bringing his attention to the whispering professors a few steps away.

"She was in class when we started— maybe she got lost on the way?" Your professor turns from his coworkers and towards the milling students. "Can anyone go look for Miss [Name] quickly? She seems to have wandered off again!"

Immediately, Chazz throws his hand into the air— when he sees that several other boys have raised their hands to volunteer, he starts waving frantically and stretches up on his toes, doing his best to make sure he's seen. "Hey! If you don't give me permission, I'm gonna go anyways!"

The teachers chuckle, but nod at Chazz anyways, and then he's off like a shooting star. He vaguely remembers your class schedule for this semester; most courses are held in this particular building anyways, so even if he just pokes his head through classroom doorways, he should be fine.

Door after door, hall after hall, still no sign of you. Chazz snarls in frustration as he shoves open the door to yet another empty classroom.

"What the hell?!"

You're sprawled out on the stairs. Even from his spot in the doorway, Chazz can see that you're sweating heavily and struggling to breath— he stumbles over to you, dropping to his knees, grasping you by the shoulder and shaking you gently. "Hey, [Name], c'mon, this isn't funny—"

Your only response is a quiet moan. Chazz exhales, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours, only to immediately recoil— god, you're absolutely burning up. There's no way he's hauling you back to class like this. . . he considers calling someone else to help, but the idea of another man seeing you in such a vulnerable state doesn't sit right with him.

As carefully as possible, Chazz slides his arms under you, hoisting you up and holding you close. In your sleep, you whine, nuzzling closer to his chest— despite being so feverish, you shiver in his arms.

☆☆☆

When you finally open your eyes again, you're in a bed that you know isn't your own. You blink a few times, bringing one hand up to rub the sleep from your eyes; everything's white and sterile, and you can only assume you're in the infirmary? Slowly you sit up— ugh, everything aches. What happened?

"You need to take care of yourself too," a voice drifts through the curtains surrounding your bed.

"I'm fine, I want to stay here!" 

Ah, that's a voice you recognize.

"Chazz?" Your own voice is fragile and barely above a whisper, but clearly it's enough; the curtains swish aside, and he steps into your small room, concern painted over his face.

"God, you're so stupid," are the first words spilling from his mouth. Despite that, he smiles, although it's frail— he settles himself in the metal chair by your bedside, reaching out to grab your hand, squeezing tightly. "You should've just stayed in bed, dumbass."

"I. . . felt bad, knowing someone was worried." You shrug awkwardly, wishing you could put more into your voice. "Jaden sounded really concerned, and I did really feel fine—"

"Liar." Chazz scoffs. "And hey—" he stares you down for a moment, the tips of his ears turning red. He averts his eyes before continuing. "I'm always gonna be worried for you anyways, y'know. So like, try to avoid scaring me next time, damn."

You chuckle, but it quickly devolves into a coughing fit; Chazz lets go of your hand and leans closer, rubbing soothing circles on your back instead. Once you catch your breath, you also catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall— it's nearly midnight. You whirl to face him, anxiety visible on your face.

"It's so late! You need to go back and rest too!"

Chazz almost laughs— you'd been unconscious for nearly eight hours, and you're worried about him? He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs, smirking at you. "I'm staying here with you until you're better. Needing me and wanting me are two different things."

You can feel your face heating up under his gaze. Slowly you lay back down, pulling the thin infirmary blankets up in the hopes of capturing some heat. You're glad your voice is so weak at this point, because maybe he won't hear you. "I— want you and I need you, y'know."

Then you roll over and try to steady your breathing, pretending you're asleep, hoping he didn't hear that entirely. Chazz leans back in his chair, hoping he did hear it properly.

"I. . . it's not supposed to feel this g⁠—"

You curled your fingers, dragging your nails along his scalp, and Mammon let out something that sounded like a whimper. Curled up together in your room, watching the latest TSL movie with some of the boys, you could feel your lips twisting into a smile. It had only started out with playfully ruffling his hair— but with the way he'd leaned into your touch, you hadn't been able to resist tangling your hand further into his hair. Mammon practically melted in your hands.

"Whatever the hell you're doing over there, it better not be lew—" Belphie, at the foot of your bed, tosses his hair from his eyes and glances over his shoulder. His face remains stoic, but there's a notable lilt to his voice as he says, "I always knew you were a dog, Mammon."

Mammon practically rockets out of your grip, his blush almost bright enough to light up the dark room. He starts kicking at his youngest brother, who only lazily rolls to the side, just out of range. "Y'can't just say things like that about m—"

"Mammon, heel." It's barely a whisper over the demon's rants and the movie's dialogue, but your voice stills the man, and his blush deepens— how dare you do that in front of anyone. Belphie sneers at his brother, and even Levi looks away from the screen for a moment, snickering at the frustrated look on Mammon's face.

"Lay back down, please, Mammon." You open your arms again, and Mammon's body moves on its own; he settles back in at your side, resting his head on your shoulder, grumbling quietly all the while. You're trying not to laugh; Belphie and Levi have given up on that, and are openly chuckling at their brother's plight. "Levi, can you recap the last few scenes?"

Leviathan launches into an enthusiastic summary of whatever event the brothers on-screen had just weathered. Belphie scrunched up his pillow to lay on it, his eyes lazily wandering back to the screen. Mammon let out a huff, right into your ear, and you reached up to play with his hair yet again as he crossed his arms, pretending he didn't shudder when you touched him. Your grin crashed across your face once more as he whined quietly. You had to tease him.

The pen's cartridge burst in his grip, splattering all over the page, his hand, the front of his shirt- he lets out a strangled groan in frustration, standing up off the bench and shaking his hand, sending more ink flying. He looked back to the page he'd just been writing on; stained deep, unfortunately. Flipping a few pages forward proved that, the ink leaking further.

From over his shoulder, a voice echoes- not entirely there, but loud enough for him to hear. "Jaden. You've been distracted lately."

Wiping his stained hand down the front of his equally-stained shirt, Jaden turns to face Yubel. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she barely floats above the bench, her dual-colored gaze narrowing at him. He smiles sadly, almost automatically reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, barely stopping himself in time. "I just- I dunno, I'm fine."

Jaden sits back down, absently examining his surroundings as he lets the ink-stained pages dry so he can keep writing.

This place felt nothing like home.

A bustling city, with the buildings towering much higher than anything on the Duel Academy's campus, filled with people who barely cared about dueling and just preferred going about boring, everyday lives. He couldn't tell the differences between the office buildings and the penthouses, because every time he looked up, there was a professional-looking somebody on every balcony or in every window, getting into arguments on the phone, chugging what seemed to be their fifth coffee of the hour.

On one of the balconies above him now, a young woman leaned over the railing, waving a piece of paper at a man who didn't seem to hear her as he joined the jostling crowd of people on the sidewalk. The woman pouts, and her eyes wander. Jaden waves.

The ink has mostly dried. Next to the worst of the splatter, he scrawls a note about clumsiness and turns the page.

"What will happen when you reach the end of this book? What will you do?" Yubel tilts her head curiously, watching Jaden fill several pages with his messy handwriting before he responds.

"I'll just get another one. That's what you do with notebooks."

"That. . . isn't what I meant."

He refuses to look at her.

Jaden's fingers tap in patterns on the leather cover and the cluttered pages as he flips back and forth. Yubel goes silent, not asking anymore questions, but instead trying to tune into her human partner's thoughts. Unfortunately, Jaden has much more control of himself than one would expect; there's practically a wall around his own spirit, and try as she might, she can't peer into his heart.

It seems he's closed it to her. It's for someone else now.

Maybe it always has been.

☆☆☆

Barely a week later, Jaden hunkers down under a heaping, twisting steel structure, hoping that a place like this doesn't have any guards to notice the small fire he's lit. He admires the roller coaster looming above him; the light of his pitifully small fire only goes so far, and a vast majority of the ride stretches off into the darkness.

Smiling to himself, he digs through his unorganized bag until he finally finds the camera he'd saved for. It was instant, and had no phone or internet connectivity, and most would consider it old-fashioned, but as he rocks back on his heels to take a picture, Jaden is perfectly happy with it. The camera whirs and clicks for a moment before spitting out a blank image, and he's careful to hold it away from the fire as the picture fades in.

As the image develops, Jaden sinks down into the grass, resting his back against one of the large metal supports. His fishes out the notebook- agh, there's a myriad of new scratches across the leather- and starts writing.

She likes to hear stories. So he tells one to the page, reminiscing about amusement park visits as a child, with his family or for birthdays, recounting all the times he'd ridden coasters until he was sick. He carefully sticks the picture onto the page and smiles. Maybe they can go to one together someday.

The chain link fence clatters off in the distance. He kicks dust over the fire to put it out.

☆☆☆

"I've decided!" He says aloud, to both Yubel and the store clerk. She floats closer. The man behind the counter steps over, holding the case keys. Jaden points to the small charm, and the clerk smiles as he removes it, holding it up to the light for them both to admire.

"A rather feminine choice; for anyone in particular?" He has a knowing smile on his face.

Jaden blushes as he smiles back, but he doesn't give any particular answer.

He fumbles with the small bag as he leaves the store, pulling the tiny charm from its fancy little packaging and clipping it to the elastic closure on the notebook. It suits the thing well; a small bronze heart, decorated sparsely with twinkling red rhinestones, looking like an absolute treasure as it rests on the deep brown leather.

He senses Yubel's gaze boring into him.

"You've decided?"

"Yep!" Jaden forces himself to keep walking. "As soon as it's full, I'll. . ." his voice trails off, and he smiles at the Duel Spirit. "I'll do it, I really will."

☆☆☆

Shipping was expensive.

The young man frowned at the prices listed up on the board. It all varied by weight and distance- he tucks the box under his arm and holds his fingers up in front of his face, muttering and trying to do the math. Yeah, way too expensive for something only that far.

He turns to leave the post office, pushing past the line of people.

One old woman, holding a stack of what looks like bills. A teenage boy, waving an envelope and holding it to the light; it's sealed with a heart-shaped sticker, and he seems nervous. A young mother, guiding her small children to the counter, each of them holding a small package and grinning at each other.

What would she look like when she got it? Would she smile? Would she cry? He hoped it wouldn't be sad tears.

Jaden steps into the cold. The freezing air hits his lungs and rejuvenates him. Shifting the box to one hand, he pulls out another notepad, one he's had for awhile- the one she'd scrawled her address on at graduation, before he'd left. The last time they'd seen each other.

He hoped she hadn't moved since then.

He starts walking, looking up at the street signs as he passes. He slowed for a moment to check a map on one of the street corners; it'd be a long walk, but that's fine.

The cluttered city streets meld into suburbs, and cute neighborhoods, and the sidewalks go from well-maintained to cracked and broken and crumbling and well-used. He trots along, running a cold hand along a rough stone wall as he passes, stopping to pet a cat.

He's not nervous.

Graduation really wasn't that long ago- she couldn't have forgotten him already. And she'd said. . . she'd said she would wait for him as long as needed-

There it is.

Jaden stops outside the fence surrounding the cute house. The gate is more for decoration than anything; it swings open easily as he rests his hand on it. Not even locked.

His eyes nervously search each window as he approaches the home. He doesn't think he can face her yet, so he's praying she isn't watching from somewhere here can't see.

Finally reaching the porch, Jaden brings his hand up to knock on the door, but he hesitates; behind him, he feels a whisper of air, and when he turns, Yubel is motioning him onward with her wings.

He inhales deeply and knocks.

☆☆☆

You'd almost missed it.

There had been nobody at the door when you opened it, so you'd assumed it was some neighborhood kids fooling around- but then you'd noticed the small brown box on your welcome mat, with your name etched in very familiar handwriting. All of the air rushed out of your lungs.

Now, seated at your kitchen table, the sloppy packaging having fallen to the floor long ago, you're completely absorbed in the small leather notebook.

'I'm in Paris now! Man, I thought Slifer had some funky food-' A picture of plate after plate of cuisine.

'This reminded me of that story you told me about your parents!' An old movie theater, lit up at night.

'Today, in the middle of Italy, I met someone who needed me.' You smiled at that, remembering how lonely he'd seemed when he'd told you that was his plan.

Page after page after page of Jaden's messy handwriting. Stamps and stickers. Spilled ink. He'd pressed your favorite flowers in between a few pages, and included copies of your favorite card whenever he found them in another country.

On the very first page, he'd written your name. On the very last pages, a note.

'I'm sorry I've been gone so long. Believe me, I miss you more and more as the days go by- but now, no matter how things were, I don't know if you'd want to see me again. Are you still waiting for me? I promise I'll be home soon. Please, wait until then.'

You blink back a few tears, wondering how he could ever think you'd be unhappy to see him.

Maybe he hadn't gotten too far yet. Wiping your eyes, you climb out of your chair and head back to the front door, hoping to find another memory of the boy you feel so strongly for-

When you open the door, he freezes like a deer in headlights. His hand is in the air like he's going to knock again. You stare at each other for a long silent moment.

"I've missed you so much-!" The words feel like they're bursting out of him. You step forward, wrapping your arms around him, not quite believing he's real yet.

"Please don't leave me again." It's barely a whisper as you bury your face in his chest.

"Stay close to me, Hart." Kite squeezed his little brother's hand as you all approached an intersection. When the pair halted, waiting for the crosswalk light to change, Hart reached out to you too; Kite scoffed quietly as you took Hart's tiny hand and smiled down at him.

"Is there anything else you want to do while we're out, Hart?" You casually swung your joined hands, the smile on your face growing as you noticed Kite gritting his teeth. Was he jealous-?

Just across the street was a small park- a spot of natural greenery among Heartland's unnatural fluorescence. You'd intended to walk past it, but something caught Hart's eye, and he slowed.

"I want. . . ice cream." He licked his lips as he stared off into the distance; still holding his hand, you crouched to follow his gaze. Kite remained towering over you both.

Set up near the park's decorative water fountain was a colorful pastel cart, the uniformed man scooping out sweets for a cheery family. You're suddenly overtly aware of the sun beating down on your neck; sweat, dripping down your back, making your shirt stick to your skin. You spared a glance at Kite- despite being dressed in his long black coat, he seemed completely unaffected by the weather, even smirking at your flushed face. Can you make a face at him without getting fired-?

"Anything you want, Hart." Kite's voice is surprisingly gentle as he leads his brother further into the park. You let go of Hart's hand, trailing behind the pair of boys a little ways; although this entire outing was your idea, you almost felt like a third wheel, imposing on a family time they never got to have.

Not wanting to overstay your welcome, you wandered off to one of the brightly-colored benches  across from the fountain. It had been a long day already.

Hart had to stretch up on the tips of his toes to see the full spectrum of flavors in the cart. Kite couldn't help but smile at the serious look on his brother's face. Hart glanced over his shoulder to ask your opinion; he frowned a bit deeper when he noticed you weren't with them, but turned back to his decision-making when Kite tugged on his hand.

You looked up from your d-pad when shadows fell over the screen; although Hart's golden eyes are dull, he mimics a smile as he holds out a hand, offering you an ice cream cone. "We didn't know what flavor you'd want," he mutters, hoisting himself onto the bench next to you, "so we just got vanilla. . ."

"Well, thank you! That's so sweet!" You smile back at the two boys. Kite looks away from you.

"If you make a big deal of it, I'm taking it outta your next paycheck."

"Yessir, Mr. Tenjo."

Kite crouched down in front of Hart, who was digging into his ice cream as carefully as possible to avoid spilling any. "We've done a lot today, Hart; have you had fun?"

Hart just nods thoughtfully. His free hand finds its way to yours, resting on the bench- a flash of frustration crosses Kite's face, but he buries it quickly. Hart bites into his waffle cone. You watch the brothers carefully; while you certainly hadn't expected either of them to make a full 180, seeing them interact all day provided at least some insight into their dynamic and personalities. Kite ran aggressively hot-and-cold, only ever smiling at his brother; Hart was clearly trying his best to mimic the things he'd seen other children doing, and now you were sure today was his first time outside in quite awhile.

You finish your ice cream as the sun begins setting. Kite pulls himself back up to his full height, offering his hand to his brother. "Time to get going home, Hart."

The smaller boy nods and reaches out- but then he pauses, open hand hovering, and starts looking around blankly. The atmosphere seems to deflate instantly. Something hangs in the air, suffocating, sending anxiety pulsing through you in waves. Kite tenses, snatching Hart's hand and guiding his brother closer to you. He stares down at you with his eyes steeling over.

"Take him home, now." His voice is fierce, the air practically crackling around him. You nod and grab his brother's hand, trying to smile at Hart, who is clearly unnerved.

"Heya, let's go back to the tower, kiddo! You wanna go through all my cards when we get back?" You try to keep him engaged as you pull him along  but you do spare one more glance at Kite, who is shadowed in the setting sun.

As soon as you and his brother are out of sight, Kite begins quietly stepping further into the park, hand resting on his deck box. The aura in the air is unmistakable. A shadow falls over his vision in the dying light; he looks up just as Orbital 7 transforms and drops out of the sky, landing awkwardly on the stone pathway. "Master Kite, a Number!"

"I know," Kite hissed. "Keep your voice down. Do you have a location?" Orbital whirs for a moment as he pulls up a map; Kite studies the projection closely, memorizing the location, and then takes off at a sprint. It's so nearby, using Orbital for transport would be a waste.

He slows as he rounds the corner into the gardens. A cacophony of voices is echoing over the decorative hedges, one clearly more manic than the others as the sounds of a duel come to a close. Kite nods at his robotic assistant. "Do it now, Orbital."

☆☆☆☆☆

You kept a tight grip on Hart as you pulled him back to the crosswalk. He was incredibly quiet; hopefully that strange feeling hadn't negated the fun day you'd had together. "So, Hart, what was your favorite part of today?"

He peers up at you. "I liked seeing all those dogs." His eyes widen at the memory. "They were really smart, watching them do tricks was cute."

You giggle too. "You're right! Have you and your brother ever owned a pet-?"

The world around you falters. A wave of electricity seems to slam into you, almost knocking you off your feet- you manage to catch yourself as you stumble, turning to catch Hart as he falls forward too.

"What- what was that, [Name]?!" The young boy wraps his arms around you tightly. You look around for the source of the impulse, only for a sense of dread to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Birds hover in midair. Traffic has completely frozen in the middle of the intersection. Pedestrians, frozen in mid-stride, coats and scarves flowing in a wind that wasn't there. The world was soundless.

You pull yourself from Hart's grasp. A rush of adrenaline pours into your veins. Something is horribly wrong. Hart presses himself up against you, curling his fingers through your belt loop, trembling. "I want my brother," he whispers, although it may as well be a shout into the world's silence.

"We need to get back to Kite," you agreed. Hart nods solemnly, taking your hand again as you turn back to the park. The walk back is terrifying- your footsteps on the pavement are the only sound for what seems like miles. When you step back through the gates, Kite is nowhere to be seen, and your stomach sinks further.

"Hart," you kneel down to be on his level, "I want to to stay right here, okay? I'm going to find your brother."

The little boy nods hesitantly. You watch him take a seat on the same bench you'd occupied earlier, and then you're off through the tall grass towards the hedge gardens in the distance.

The sunset had frozen in the sky, so you're delving into shadows as you step into the hedges. This is the only possible place Kite could've gotten to- god, what was going on? The crunching of grass and twigs under your foot is almost deafening. Your skin seems to tingle out of anxiety.

"Are you ready to repent?"

Kite's voice cuts through the silence, startling you, but also flooding you with a sense of relief. You round the corner into a small clearing in the middle of the hedge maze- just in time to see Kite delve his hands into a man's chest, withdrawing an orb of light that shatters in his grip.

Kite releases the man, who crumples to th ground, visibly aging several decades; his dark hair grayed instantly, his eyes growing dim as he collapsed.

You take a step backwards. "Mr. Tenjo-?!"

Kite and Orbital both whirl on you. "I told you to get back to the tower," Kite snarls. He strides closer, driving you back several steps. "Where's my brother, you're supposed to be watching him-"

You stumble backwards into the hedges. Your gaze jumped from the intense man in front of you to the unconscious man behind him.

"H-Hart is. . ." you almost winced at how your voice shook, "Hart is okay, he's back by the fountain. Something weird happened and we were worried about you." Shaking, you meet his stormy eyes. "What the hell was that, Mr. Tenjo?!"

Kite scoffs and turns to march back through the hedge path, Orbital rolling along with him, twisting his robotic self to stare. "You. . ." Kite doesn't look back at you. "Time has been distorted. You shouldn't be able to move so freely."

You blink up at him, not really understanding what that's supposed to mean- but with the thunderstorm practically brewing around him, now is definitely not the time to ask.

Hart looks up quickly as you step out of the hedges. His eyes widen; he scrambles off the bench and sprints over, wrapping his arms around his brother as Kite drops to his knees with open arms. "Brother! I was worried- I'm glad [Name] brought you back. . ."

Kite's grip instinctually tightened as he glared up at you. At his side, Orbital mutters something and lets off a small electric shock. Suddenly, the world fades back in; the flapping of wings as birds resume their flights, the roar of traffic and voices from beyond the park's fence. You looked away from Kite's intense stare, and he just squeezed his brother once more.

"Time to go, Hart."

☆☆☆☆☆

Understandably, you'd been sent home early. Hart had seemed mildly worried when Kite coldly dismissed you; you'd passed Dextra on the way out of the tower, and she'd given you a sympathetic look. You just held your head high, confident you'd done nothing wrong.

From the top of the tower, Kite watched you walk through the colorful streets, lit up by streetlamps fighting off the moonlight. A reflection in the window caught his eye; Hart, stumbling into the room, quietly chewing on the remains of the sandwich his brother had haphazardly thrown together.

"Why did she leave?" His voice was barely a whisper as he joined his brother in watching your retreating form.

Kite knelt down and spoke gently. "Her job is to take care of you- she left you alone, so she got in trouble."

Hart frowned, pressing his jelly-stained hands to the glass. "I'm not helpless. I wanted her to find you." He glances up at Kite's reflection out of the corner of his eye. "[Name] makes better sandwiches than you do. Will she be back?"

Kite had to look away from his brother's pleading eyes. Mr. Heartland's orders echoed in his mind, joined by one reverberating question. How had she done that? "Probably. We're supposed to keep her around for awhile."

"Supposed to? Does that mean you didn't want her?" Hart muses quietly, tracing constellations in the window, leaving streaks of jam on the glass. Kite didn't answer.

☆☆☆☆☆

The hospital elevator isn't nearly as smooth or quiet as those in the tower. You're sure you can feel every jolt and rattle in your bones. When the doors slide open, you step out into the clinically white hallway, nodding acknowledgement at the familiar women at the nurses station.

Your mother's room is in the corner of the floor. Although it's really not very late, the lights are out when you open the door; given that Heartland is keen on aesthetics- and the mayor himself seems personally apologetic about your family- this room has massive windows overlooking the city. The light from below work wonders that hospital lights never could.

". . . heya, Mama." You whisper as you approach the lone bed in the middle of the room.

Your mother lay there; pale, emaciated, bandaged, strung up to various machines like a fly caught in a spider's web. The steady beeps of her heart monitor are the only response to your voice. Looking at her makes your stomach churn- you step over to the window instead, your gaze flickering between your mother's reflection and Heartland tower in the distance.

The city below you almost feels alive. The tower itself is lit up like a miracle, rising in front of the moon like a proud rival, finally gaining the advantage. The cable cars in the distance have lights that blink in intervals. Further away is the familiar Ferris wheel that dominates the center of the ever-present carnival, the lights flashing in patterns and never repeating. Beyond all of that, though- the walls that separated you from everyone else loomed, reminding you that you don't belong this deep in the city. It's difficult to believe that any of today's events could happen in such an electric city like this.

"I'm working for Heartland now too, Mama. Did you ever know about the family living in the tower-? I was hired to watch the youngest kid." A memory of Hart writhing in pain flashes through your mind; you shut your eyes tightly and turn your back to the window, leaning against the glass.

"Mama. . ." You bite your lip. "If you ever. . . learned something that you don't know what to do with. How would you handle-?" You just watch her limp form, knowing that the years of turning to her for advice are far behind you.

At some point as the night wears on, you checked your d-pad for the time; since you'd stormed out of the tower, you'd received a message from the mayor himself, suggesting you take the following day off and resume work after that.

Anxiety gnawed at you, settling heavily in your stomach as you stepped into the hallway, gently closing your mother's door behind you. Since visiting hours are coming to an end, the ward is practically empty- still, you somehow find yourself turning the corner and slamming headfirst into someone with a thud. You both stumble backwards.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?!" You reach out to steady the boy, who is grimacing and rubbing where your forehead had smacked into his collarbone.

"You don't look like you'd be so hardheaded," he mutters. He brushes his purple hair aside and tugs down his shirt collar, making sure he isn't bruising, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"If you can be a smartass, you're fine." You cross your arms and look him up and down as he snickers.

The visitor's pass hanging around his neck is reminiscent of your own; the fading colors and chipped plastic betraying the fact that it was old and well-used. Even though he was playfully sneering down at you, there were bags under his deep blue eyes, and his general aura is one of exhaustion. You can feel your indignation melting away into solidarity.

"Hey. Whatever you're going through, best wishes."

His smarmy grin fades as he catches sight of your own personal visiting pass. His harsh face softens the tiniest bit. ". . . same to you."

He brushes past you, and for some reason you can't explain, you're compelled to watch him down the sterile hallway. His hair and clothing- dark shades of purples and grays- make him look like a wandering soul manifested amongst the stark white. He disappears into the room next to your mother's; once he was out of sight, you resume your journey to the elevator, uncomfortably aware that your tragedy isn't the only one.

The peaceful waltz began yet again. Thomas's grip on your waist tightens and his smile brightens as the two of you begin twirling around the living room once more.

"And a-one, and a-two," Thomas takes a larger step than necessary, using his momentum to sweep you into a dip. You giggle in delight and wrap your arms around his neck for balance as he helps you stand again. Quinton scoffs from his place on the couch- Quattro sticks out his tongue in defiance.

"Don't waste [Name]'s time, Thomas." Christopher snaps his book closed to stare his brother down. "If you invited her for practice, then practice- you know she's busy, and yet she made time to spare for you."

Thomas, sneering, pulled you flush against his warm chest. "Stay outta this, Chris. Hey, [Name], you're having fun, right?" He peers down at you with his deep red eyes.

You giggle. "Of course I'm having fun, I love being with you guys!" Your grip on him begins loosening as you pull away a bit. "You really don't need practice, though; you're much better at this than I am."

Thomas kept a tenuous grip on your hand, his gaze softening as his smiled sharpens. "So you've caught me," he chuckles. "Maybe this was all just a ploy to spend time with you. It worked!"

You shove him playfully as he laughs, and then you turn to the oldest Arclight brother. "Christopher! Teach your brother how to treat a woman!"

A quick smile flashes across Christopher's face as he stands. He'd towered over you since you were children; still, he bowed deeply, his long hair pooling around him on the floor. Stretching out one hand, he peers up at you through his bangs. "Miss [Name], may I have this dance?"

You almost falter in taking his hand- had Christopher Arclight always been so smooth? Both brothers noticed your brief hesitation, Christopher shooting a sly smile at a pouting Thomas. He pulled himself back up to his full height, smiling down at you gently, holding you as if you were made of porcelain. The radio on the coffee table had continued playing quietly, and as the music looped, Christopher effortlessly lead you in a waltz around the room.

Out a partner, Thomas took his own seat in his favorite armchair. As he watched his brother dance you past the furniture, you staring at Chris with bright, adoring eyes, Quattro felt his heart sink a bit. Things were already tense with Trey over you- what the hell would happen if you were into Quinton, out of the three of them?! Thomas shut his eyes tightly, trying to shake the image out of his mind.

The sound of the front door slamming echoed over the music. Christopher doesn't break his stride, but Thomas tenses up, immediately identifying the footsteps on the tile.

"Christopher Thomas, sorry I took so long; the tailor says-" Michael paused as he stepped into the living room; Quinton released you almost instantly, putting distance between the two of you at the sight of the confused smile on his brother's face. Trey shoots a questioning look at Quattro, who is fidgeting in his seat. "[Name], I didn't realize you were visiting today!"

You smile at your best friend, still swaying along to the soft music, even without a dance partner. "Michael! Yeah, it was spontaneous- Thomas said he needed some dance practice. He lied, though." You playfully stuck your tongue out, and Quattro made a face in return.

"Michael," Christopher slowly began as a thought washed over him, "have you told [Name] about-?"

Trey pursed his lips and shook his head. You glanced between the trio of brothers, wjo could've been communicating telepathically right then, with the kinds of looks they were sending each other. "Told me about what?"

Quinton bowed his head and made some quick excuse to leave the room. Quattro shrugged, eyeing his little brother, whose face was slowly turning red. When Trey turned his pleading eyes to Quattro, the middle brother relented with a sigh, trailing out of the room after Christopher.

Michael fidgets with the hem of his shirt as the radio begins building to a crescendo. He steps forward slowly, bowing gracefully in front of you, much like his oldest brother had done. "May I have. . . this dance?"

He holds his hand out to you- your own hand fits perfectly in his grasp. When he pulls you closer, you rest your free hand on his chest, and he squeezes your hip as the two of you begin swaying in time.

"Our father is hosting an event," Michael begins in that soft voice of his. "He held them all the time when we were little, but of course, it's been awhile."

"What's it for?" You ask, genuinely curious, as he spins you past the front windows.

"Charities, awareness," Michael replies vaguely. "It's been in the works for awhile; a pretty big thing, lots of media attention."

The music begins fading. Michael slowly comes to a stop, bringing both his hands to rest on your waist, shyly looking at you through his long eyelashes.

You rocketed upright, breathing heavily, practically dripping sweat. There wasn't enough air- the blanket was too constricting, your room was too hot- you glanced around frantically as the vestiges of your nightmare wore off.

Your bedroom was empty. Moonlight reflected through the window; beyond the glass, rivaling the moonbeams, was the glow of Heartland's brilliance off in the distance.

Still breathing hard, you placed a hand to your chest- your heartbeat was still drumming wildly. The adrenaline that had woken you was still coursing through your veins. And then- that dream haunted the edge of your mind, bringing tears to your eyes. You shook your head again.

With trembling hands you grabbed your phone off the nightstand. The bright clock on your homescreen told you the ridiculous hour- three a.m. You were far too amped up to try sleeping again; you tossed aside your thick blankets and crawled out of bed, stepping over to the window, opening your texts as you took a seat on the bench.

Michael: [11:30 p.m.] Goodnight!

Staring at his name on the screen brought the nightmares creeping back from the corners of your mind. You swallowed, wondering when exactly your throat had gone so dry; before you could think your way out of it, you tapped the call button.

You held the phone to your ear as it rang, hearing your anxious breathing echo against the screen. What were you thinking? He was a busy man, and it was such an odd time, you should just hang u-

"[Name]?" Even thick with sleep, his voice was sweet and sounded like home.

You let out a shaky breath. "Michael, I- sorry, I shouldn't have c-" you paused to take another deep breath, really not wanting to cry on the phone with him.

"Hey, [Name], are you okay? Do you need me?" His voice was immediately much more alert; you could practically hear the cogs turning in his mind, wondering what had happened.

"Sorry, I had a bad dream, it made me worry about you. . ." Your voice trails off. "I needed to hear your voice." He inhaled sharply. You turned to look out the window, watching the peaceful emptiness of the night. On the other end of the line, you could hear Michael shuffling around, quietly murmuring reassurances through the phone.

"Hey, let's meet up."

You blinked in confusion. "But it's so early? Michael, don't worry about me, it was just-"

"No, [Name], you're clearly upset, even if it was just a dream. And," he weighed his next words carefully, a hopeful note in his sudden whisper, "what if I need to see you, too?"

The two of you stayed quiet for a moment, each waiting for an answer.

"Well, my parents are still out of town. . ." you started slowly. "I can get out of the house. Where should we meet?"

Michael hummed happily. "Just by the park near your place. Don't worry, [Name], I'll see you soon."

☆☆☆

It didn't take long to dress, and you jogged to the meeting spot, but Trey had still managed to beat you. He sat on one of the empty swings, face tilted towards the sky; at the sound of your footsteps through the dewy grass, he turned, smiling bright enough to outshine the moon.

He muttered your name softly as he stood. Just seeing his face was enough; the nightmarish anxiety from your dream melted away as he outstretched his arms and you pressed yourself to his chest, enveloping yourself in his warmth. You stood like that for some time; with your head against his chest, you could feel his every breath, his body vibrating as he hummed quietly to calm you.

"Are you okay now, [Name]?" You nod. He smiled gently. "Is it something you want to talk about?"

You pull away from him at that, although instead of letting go entirely, you grab one of his hands, intertwine your fingers, squeezing for reassurance that he's real. ". . . I had a dream about you and your brothers."

Michael frowns at that. He can see the way your eyes immediately start glazing, as if you'll cry again. He doesn't interrupt, but he does squeeze your hand back so that you know he's listening.

With a deep breath, you begin spilling the fragments of the dream, although it quickly turns into all of your fears practically waterfalling from your mouth as tears begin to drip from your eyes. Fears that he'll disappear, be taken, get tired of you, leave your life forever. Michael stands with you, absorbing everything- as you finish your speech, devolving into tearful sniffles and worries, he brings both hands up and tilts your face so you're looking at him.

"[Name], you know I'm staying with you, right? After everything that's happened, I'm not leaving again." You nod vigorously. He leans forward, pressing his soft lips to your wet cheek, kissing away some of your tears.

When he pulls back, he almost laughs at the expression on your face, and how stiff your body had gotten with that one action. He quickly kisses you on the tip of your nose before grabbing your hand again. "You believe me, right, [Name]?"

You nod slowly as he begins leading you. "I do, Michael. And y'know," you sniffle again, trying to ignore how your skin feels like the places he kissed are on fire, "I'd never let you get away so easily again, you can count on it. You're stuck with me."

He really does laugh at that one. "I couldn't be happier with that, [Name]. Do you want to sleep over with us tonight?"

You don't even have to think about it; a "yes" drops from your lips automatically. His smile widens. He could practically be an angel with the way he's glowing in the moonlight. "I'll protect you from anything else, [Name]. I'm right here with you, for as long as you need me."

A thought echoes in your mind, although you're not brave enough to say it yet.

With an aggressive sigh, Jaden drops his head onto his textbook. "[Name], I really don't get it. . ." he whines. Being face-down in glossy paper, his voice is muffled.

"I told you that you shouldn't bother us," Chazz mutters- when you frown at him, the tips of his ears turn red, and he looks back at his notes.

The three of you were sprawled out on the floor of the library's study room, Jaden having invited himself along when he'd overheard you and Chazz making plans- Chazz had been pouting about that for hours.

You place your own work down and slide closer to Jaden, who's looking up at you now with those big brown eyes. A quick glance at his notes is disheartening- his first exam is rapidly approaching, but there probably wasn't much you could do for him now. "Okay, let's start with the very basics. Do you know the literary movements?" As Jaden hums evasively, you flip through his literature textbook. "The one we've just finished studying is Romanticism."

Jaden rolls over, laying on his back now and staring blankly at the ceiling. "I just don't know why we've gotta study dating techniques at a dueling school-"

Chazz scoffs loudly as he slams his own book closed. "It's not about dating, you dumbass- it was called that because the authors of the time romanticized everything."

You nod, fishing around through all your things for the series of handouts you'd gotten over the semester. Maybe he could understand those better.

Although he stoically faced his own homework, Chazz's gaze kept flickering up to where you and Jaden might as well have been intertwined, for all he cared; he was far too aware of how the Slifer student was pressed up against your side, how hypnotized he seemed by your voice as you patiently explained a semester's worth of content.

Jaden somehow leans in even closer; Chazz has a white-knuckle grip on his books as he abruptly stands, moving from his comfortable place on the carpet, pointedly taking a new position at your side. He drops his work on the floor and sprawls out on his stomach, his shoulder brushing up against your thigh. You don't even falter in your speech.

It took several more hours, but you and Jaden managed to get through enough review that he should have a chance on his exams. After a few enthusiastic goodbyes and goodnights, he was gone- you let out a yawn and rubbed your stinging eyes. A look at the clock told you that, although it was definitely late, you still had awhile before the library closed; the moonlight reflecting through the window practically outshines the dim lamplight in your study room.

You chuckle tiredly, turning to where Chazz had been studying quietly next to you. "Wow, that was quite a rev-"

Chazz, his face nestled in his arms, is fast asleep.

You pause to watch; his back rises and falls as he breathes, and when he shifts positions, you catch a glimpse of his face- relaxed, peaceful, almost happy.

Without letting yourself think too much about it, you reach out, carefully running your fingers up the back of his neck and into the shortest strands of dark hair. When he doesn't stir, you keep going; gently scratching your nails all the way up his scalp, combing through his hair, marveling at exactly how soft it is. His shampoo must be expensive.

Chazz sighs loudly, his eyelids fluttering but not opening; not wanting to freak him out, you slowly detangle your hands from his hair.

"Don't-" his voice is thick with sleep, one eye sliding open as he turns to look at you. "Hey, don't stop."

"And now-!" You held your arm close to your chest, quickly pressing the stone embedded in your bracelet before thrusting your wrist into the air dramatically. "Medicham, Mega Evolve!"

Light surrounded your Pokémon before exploding forcefully, sending sparkles showering down around you as Medicham peacefully levitated in her glow. She gently landed back on the stage, turning to give you a thumbs up; you smiled back giddily, thrilled the routine had finally worked.

A slow clap echoed through the empty contest hall. Startled, you whirled to face the seats below the stage, Medicham taking a battle stance; you both visibly relaxed at the sight of Wallace, applauding you as he made his way up the aisle. He stopped at the base of the stage.

"Spectacular as always, Miss Champion." He smiled as you sat on the edge of the stage; when your Medicham, having returned to normal, approached him, he reached out to pat her on the head.

"Thanks! That means a lot, coming from such a professional." You laughed lightly. "I've been practicing with Steven a lot to really perfect Medicham's Mega Evolution- he hasn't seen the full routine yet, so I can't wait to show him."

Wallace's smile faltered slightly at that thought, but he recovered quickly as always, turning to face the endless row of seats as you returned your Pokémon to her ball. "Quite an accomplished trainer, Miss [Name]. Champion, Top Coordinator- what's next for Hoenn's greatest?" There was a teasing tone in his voice, but he was genuinely curious; even with his own copious amounts of talent, it had taken him years to accomplish as much as he'd done. Seeing you rocket into a league of your own, so quickly- it had been incredible.

You hummed, kicking your feet. "I've been thinking about that, actually." Absently, your fingers found their way into Wallace's scarf, twirling and tugging on the sheer fabric. "I think I'm going to leave Hoenn."

Wallace reeled back as if he'd been slapped.

You winced, refusing to look at him even though you could feel his eyes desperately searching you. He forced a pained smile.

"Can I ask why, Miss [Name]?" His voice was far too level. He was definitely upset.

You shrugged, hating the fact that this was hurting him. "I just- it's something in my heart, Wallace. I have to keep going." You cautiously peered up at him; his face was blank. Your heart started to ache in your chest.

Suddenly a practiced smile crashed its way across the gym leader's face. "I'm sure you'll do well no matter what, Miss Champion." He slowly began walking back up the aisle and towards the exit of the contest hall, clearly expecting you to follow him; you did automatically, trotting to keep up as he continued talking.

"I don't believe we've ever had a Champion leave before; what will you do with your title?"

"-do you want it?"

Wallace halted abruptly. You nearly crashed right into him. The two of you stood quietly in the entry hall for what seemed far too long; the sunlight streaming through the glass doors illuminated your friend, flowing right through his scarf, scattering teal across the floor like diamonds.

". . . I'm sorr-"

"Alright, class!" You raised your voice and clapped your hands to get the students' attention as they chattered excitedly.

"Today we're going over move classifications!" You picked up a marker to write on the whiteboard. "So, can anyone tell me the very basic move categories? Hmm--" several of the children practically threw their hands into the air. "Ty, let's hear from you."

The boy put his hand down, grinning confidently. "Physical moves, special moves, and status moves!"

"That's right!" You smiled at his correct answer and turned to write it on the board. As you scribbled, you heard the classroom door slide open; when you looked over your shoulder, Principal Asuka was stepping into the room, followed closely by a pink-haired man who seemed vaguely familiar.

"Everyone, say good morning!" Your class chirped out their greetings like an uncoordinated chorus. The man smiled and waved at the kids as Asuka met you at the front of the room.

"[Name], I'd like you to meet our local Trial Captain, Ilima."

The man responded to his name, fixing his bright blue eyes on you, his smile making his already-soft face even more angelic. "Miss [Name]- nice to finally meet you. Miss Asuka has told me quite a bit about you already."

He held out his hand for you to shake, and you took it shyly, almost wincing away when you're sure you feel an electric charge; you can feel your face heating up under his gaze, and from the way his lips twitch upwards, you know he's seen it too.

You force a laugh anyways. "Only good things, I hope!" Ilima only hummed elusively, hiding behind his smile. Asuka placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Ilima's a graduate of this trainer's school- we're trying to recruit him as a guest teacher on occasion, so I thought he could sit in on a class?" She looked at you pointedly. You nod, trying to keep a straight face even as your heart sank to your toes. The pair took seats off to the side of the room, and you turned back to your students, who'd naturally begun chatting again as soon as you were distracted. You clapped your hands once more, a universal call for their attention.

"Alright, you guys! Just because we've got guests doesn't mean we can Slack Off- so, can anyone tell me which of these move categories can be broken down further, and how we can do that? Ty, put your hand down, give someone else a chance-"

Eventually you finagled the right answer from the group- "Physical moves can be broken down into contact and non-contact,"- and you managed to segue into another topic of review.

You scrawled the names of a handful of Pokémon on the board, faltering a bit as Ilima whispered something to Asuka, but you recovered with a smile and faced the students. "Now, which of these Pokémon have abilities that will only activate when hit with a contact move? Oh, Mari?"

"Ampharos' Static!" The girl shouted happily. The boy at her side, fidgeting in his seat, flung his hand up too. "Miss [Name], some Gible can have the Rough Skin ability too!"

"You're both right!" You chirped as you circled the correct names on the board. Although you felt you had to keep an air of friendly professionalism in front of your boss and the Captain, inside, you were giddy- this stuff was a bit complicated for the young age of your class, so the fact that they could understand assured you that you were doing well in your job.

After a few more rounds of call-and-response, you dismissed the kids from their desks for a short break; Asuka came up to you again for a quick conversation, and over her shoulder, you could see Ilima crouching down and talking happily to some of the children. The way the sun came through the windows practically made him glow. . .

Asuka waved her hand in front of your face to snap you from your blatant daze. She tried to look strict as you began blushing, but she couldn't help the playful note that snuck into her voice. "[Name], you seem distracted," she chuckled, "The yard is empty right now- I can give you special permission to use the fields early, if you'd like."

This would be the perfect chance to practice what you'd preached- you decided to take her up on that offer.

☆☆☆

In the schoolyard, you stood with your face upturned, basking in the sunlight, wishing its honey-golden rays would just sink right into your skin and calm your nerves somehow. The children were talking quietly a few feet away, clearly excited. There was a brief shuffling on the other end of the practice battlefield; when you opened your eyes, Ilima was staring at you intently, although he smiled. "Are you ready, Miss [Name]?"

Not trusting your own voice, you just nodded. His smile widened into something more like a smirk, something that didn't suit his soft face at all. "Smeargle, go!"

"C'mon out, Flaaffy!"

You were already gnawing on your lip as Flaaffy appeared from the dissipating light; she'd been raised from an egg, but the two of you had barely done any battling over the course of your life together. She just needed to hold on long enough to show off her Static.

Your hesitation was all Ilima needed. "Power Whip!"

Smeargle lashed out with its tail, almost too fast for your eyes to follow. Flaaffy stumbled back at the first hit to her face, but she began sidestepping as Smeargle closed in.

"Um. . ." You almost winced at how weak your voice was, "try Electro-"

"Use your tail again!" Ilima's voice cut you off. Flaaffy looked over her shoulder for a brief moment, waiting for the rest of your command- while she was distracted, Smeargle wrapped its tail around her, using its momentum to sling Flaaffy into the dirt.

You froze as a cloud of dust billowed up. It was happening again- Arceus above, you'd never been one to battle- all you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears, melding with the crashing of waves on the nearby shore.

Across from you, Ilima's jaw was set in a determined manner, his calculating eyes watching his Pokémon fling yours into the ground over and over again. He almost looked like a different man. His gaze flickered up to you again- it was obvious how tense and nervous you were. Your fragility pulled him just far enough from his typical battle daze that it slowed his momentum.

". . . Smeargle, use-"

"H-" You couldn't falter like this in front of the children; they had so much to learn. "Headbutt!"

Flaaffy charged forward, slamming her head into Smeargle's chin, disrupting whatever directions Ilima had given. On reflex Smeargle reached out with its tail yet again; a wave of Static rippled through Flaaffy's wool, and Smeargle paused, numb.

Ilima abruptly turned to your audience. His face, which had been sharp and hardened as he directed his Smeargle, softened once more.

"And that was Flaaffy's Static ability," he smiled. His Pokémon stumbled off the battlefield, shaking off its bout of paralysis easily. The kids immediately surrounded the Captain, peppering him with more questions that he answered effortlessly.

Flaaffy trotted back to your side. Principal Asuka approached too, probably saying something comforting about your excuse of a battle, but it didn't register; all you could think about was how ephemeral Ilima looked in the sunlight.

[this one is more setup + focuses on friendship with Morty, Eusine will actually appear later on]

You hummed softly as you worked, carefully chopping Pecha berries and dropping them into the boiling pot of soup on the stove. Relaxing at the table, Morty watched you flit around his kitchen, seeming perfectly at home in his house. You'd spent years here, after all.

"Thanks for doing this, [Name]." Morty's voice was thick with exhaustion. He picked his mug up by the rim, swirling it, gazing into his coffee as if it held the secrets of the universe.

"You really need to take better care of yourself, Morty." You huffed playfully, stirring the soup as it boiled and thickened. "What good will summoning Ho-oh do if it saps all of your own strength? Don't overwork yourself in practice."

Your friend chuckled. "I could say the same to you, y'know." He lifted his mug to his mouth and took a sip, avoiding your gaze as you stared intently at him for a moment. As soon as you turned back to the pot, you could feel his eyes staring right through you.

His mug landed on the table with a muffled thud. "You can't just ignore your own feelings, [Name]. Taking care of me isn't a replacement for taking care of yourself. And. . ." he paused, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought of his next words, "you shouldn't pour your feelings for him into other people."

He heard your sharp intake of breath, but you didn't say anything. Instead you spooned out two bowls of dinner, setting one down in front of Morty and then taking your own seat across from him. You began shoveling spoonfuls into your mouth to avoid having to respond.

Morty smiled across the table as if he were privy to a secret you couldn't have. The two of you ate quietly for a short while; the Gym Leader observed you carefully the entire time, knowing you well enough to understand the set of your jaw, the shape of your mouth, the slope of your shoulders.

"He wanted to surprise you, but. . ." His voice was kept low, but it still drew your eyes upward and away from your dinner. Morty averted his gaze once more.

You dropped your spoon into the bowl with a loud enough clatter to make him wince. He almost couldn't handle meeting your eyes, not with the way they were practically smoldering. Your voice was just as soft and powerful. "Eusine-?"

When Morty nodded, you forcefully pushed your chair away from the table, rocketing to your feet, sending his coffee sloshing over the rim of the mug. Morty grabbed the corners of the quaking table to steady it.

"He told me not to tell you," he chided, "but I can't stand seeing you mope and deny you're moping. So," as you flung your coat on, he stood too. "Pretend you're surprised in the morning, alright?"

You grinned and nodded at him, barely pausing as you arranged your bag to go back home. "Hey, I'll call you tomorrow, I'll make enough food for the three of us!" And with a hasty goodbye, you disappeared into Ecruteak's soft evening light.

Adjusting to the sudden emptiness of his home, Morty sat back down to finish his now-cooled soup, alone.

[LEAVE ME ALONE HE'S LIKE MY FAVORITE NPC I LOVE HIM]

When the dust cleared, it was her Venonat still hopping energetically, his young Voltorb crackling tiredly at its feet.

His hands trembled as he recalled his Pokémon. His opponent let out a relieved sigh, wiping sweat and dust from her face, grinning at both him and her Venonat. His heart skipped a beat.

"That was a great battle! I've never seen a wild Voltorb before; where did you get them?"

The blond man blinked rapidly, the words scrambling in his mind. He had to look away from her, face slowly reddening, before he could think straight enough to say anything.

"I- they- if you want, I'll trade-"

He didn't think it was possible, but her smile brightened even more, threatening to outshine even Goldenrod's lights in the distance.

"That would be fantastic!" She held her hand out, and he hesitantly took it. She shook it enthusiastically; he was sure his skin was tingling and crackling with electricity as she pulled away.

"I'm [Name]; you?" She turned as she spoke, casually beginning the short trek back to Goldenrod, her Venonat bounding along with her happily. Still fumbling with his words, the blond man had to trot to keep up.

"I'm- Irwin," he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as they walked. The way her hair shone in the fiery light of the sunset, the way her eyes were practically brimming with confidence and determination- sweet mother of Mew, she was cute. "I've lived in Goldenrod for a long time, but I don't think I've seen you before; are you from the area?"

[Name] shook her head as the pair crossed through the gate and back into the city. "I'm originally from New Bark Town, but I'm traveling right now to help the Professor with something. I actually just made my way from Azalea this morning." She paused in the middle of the sidewalk, consulting her Pokégear map for the location of the Pokémon Center.

Something about that statement was like a bell ringing in his mind. Irwin examined her a bit more closely. "Were you. . . were you in town when Team Rocket raided the Slowpoke Well, then?" The report had just aired on the radio, and he'd been worried.

[Name] resumed walking casually. "Oh yeah, I'm the one that fought 'em off. They clearly haven't recovered since Red-"

"That was you?!" Irwin's eyes lit up as he practically skidded to a stop in front of her. [Name] smiled sheepishly, nodding.

He glanced back down at the screen of his Xtransciever, checking once more that the digital ticket had landed in his inbox. It had been a last-minute purchase; he'd spontaneously been stationed at Virbank City, and was actually supposed to be at the port right now— but Pokéstar Studios was just a brief walk from where he was supposed to be—

He'd skipped out on the clock for this.

He snatched his hat off his head and ruffled his bright orange hair until he was comfortable. As he unzipped his Plasma-mandated uniform vest, he tugged the piece of cloth away from his mouth, arranging it around his collar as if he were wearing a normal shirt. Then he pulled on a hoodie he'd purchased from the gift shop, only zipping it about halfway, letting it rest casually around his shoulders.

He barely recognized himself in the mirror— he'd been wearing the Plasma uniform for far too long.

He folded his uniform vest as best he could and stashed it under the hoodie he was wearing before stepping out into the theater's lobby, his heart pounding in time with his footsteps— both out of fear of being recognized, and anticipation of seeing her again. He couldn't even remember the name of the character she was playing this time around; he only knew the actress, [Name]. The attendant at the door checked his digital ticket and let him into the room.

Pokéstar Studios, naturally, had the best theaters in Unova, and he'd managed to score a seat in the premier screening of La Nebbia Rossa 2: Wanderers of the Park. The previews were over by the time he settled into a seat; with the lights already dimmed, he was able to slip in without fear of begin recognized.

This film picked up exactly where the last one left off; having been accosted by mysterious monsters on her travels, the main character and her Pokémon had escaped into a nearby amusement park.

"I can't see anything through this fog. . ." [Name]'s character whispered on-screen. "Sigilyph, can you blow it away?" As her Sigilyph tried to clear the deep red fog, another of the monsters crept into view. [Name] would have to battle.

In the dark of the theater, someone came shuffling in front of the Grunt, their silhouette briefly blocking his view of [Name]. The stranger whispered an apology as she settled into the seat next to him; once she was comfortable, she leaned over and whispered to him, "Hey, how is it so far?"

He didn't look away from the screen as he answered. "It's really good so far— [Name] is my favorite actress, and they've been hyping this movie up for awhile." Although he couldn't see it, the stranger sitting next to him smiled as she leaned back to watch the movie.

As the film eventually rolled to its end, the girl began shuffling around in the dark, digging through her coat pockets and her purse. As soon as the credits began rolling, she stood, not even waiting for the lights to come back up. "Hey, can you hold this for a moment—?" Before the Grunt could answer, the girl shoved something into his hands as he stood to leave too.

He muttered a vague agreement, although it clearly didn't matter, and went to zip up his own hoodie; the lights came on, and he turned to the seat next to him to hand back whatever she'd given him.

The seat was empty.

He glanced around the theater frantically, but he already knew that he wouldn't be able to recognize her; the crowd was shuffling towards the exit doors, and nobody was close enough to him to logically be that stranger. She was gone.

He looked down at the object in his hands— maybe there was a clue to her identity there, so he could return th—

It was a small, decorative card, with the words Backstage Pass printed across the top in bold letters. Underneath the details was a hastily-scrawled message.

"Always glad to meet a fan— thanks for your support! [Name]."

"That's not good enough."

You pouted as your Pokémon hit the ground, exhausted. You were used to Thorton's sneering face at this point- it was practically his only expression- but that didn't make it easier to look at.

"You did well, Jolteon." You muttered, returning the borrowed Pokémon to its ball. Thornton recalled his rented Pokémon as he stepped over to you, scuffing the lines of the makeshift battlefield that you'd drawn into the sand.

"Have you heard-?! The Battle Frontier has finally opened, right outside Olivine!" You'd practically twirled through your kitchen, careful not to tangle yourself in the phone cord as you stretched it to the limit. "Since I can't spare the time to challenge the League, I'm really thinking I'll try the Frontier instead! I'm so excited!"

Thorton's response had been slow; you could almost hear the cogs turning in his head. "[Name], the Frontier is different from the Gyms. It's nothing like your regular battles, not at all. I think you should wait."

You pouted at his voice. "There's nothing for me to do out here! I've been waiting a long time for this! And besides, you're busy in Sinnoh- what are ya gonna do, Fly out here and stop me yourself?"

"I know I said I'd help you as long as you needed, but. . ." Still smirking, your old friend ran a hand through his hair, "it's really taking awhile to get the hang of this, isn't it, [Name]?"

You sighed and nodded. "Sorry to waste your time, Thorton. I didn't realize training for this would be so difficult."

You lowered yourself to the ground, burying your fingers in the sand, watching the waves crash onto the shore just a few feet away. You could feel Thorton hesitate at your side; eventually he convinced himself to sit down with you, although you could see him making faces and brushing sand from his pristine clothing.

"You're not wasting my time." He only glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his face tinged red in the light of the setting sun. "I was planning on coming back to Johto anyways."

You watched him for a moment; he seemed nervous and somewhat jumpy, continuing to sneak glances at you only to turn away when you caught his gaze. You let out a sigh and leaned your head on his shoulder- he tensed up, but didn't move away.

"It feels like you've been gone forever. Even if it's only for business, I'm glad you're home for awhile."

"Y- yeah. . ." He cleared his throat. "Um, depending on how things go, I might be permanently relocated here anyways."

You shot back upright, excitement pulsing through your veins at the news. "Dude, that's awesome! We can start hanging out again! Oh man, do you know like, your schedule and stuff yet?!"

Thorton shrugged, averting his eyes, blushing further. "I mean- well, I'm just kind of on-call whenever they need me, so. . ." He scratched the back of his neck in mounting embarrassment under your gaze.

"I can always make time for you."