At seven A.M., he wakes her and Brock up, eager to continue the journey, to battle the next gym leader, or catch the next Pokémon. She's angry and grumpy, but she gets up and forces herself to start the day, to emerge from the safety and warmth that is her sleeping bag cocoon, and into the cold, real world.
By eight-fifteen, they have eaten and packed, and are ready to set off. Red bag slung over her shoulder, green backpacks over his and Brock's, they all begin the exhausting, time-consuming trek to the nearest city.
At nine, the obligatory arguments start. The topic is always different, but never important. The point isn't that he's a bad Pokémon trainer, that he's annoying, dense, or stupid; the commotion is simply their signature technique to voice her anger, his excitement, or their homesickness.
By the time their first argument is over, around nine-fifteen, it is raining, not the pleasant spring spray that occasionally rewards them on a hot day, but the chilling, harsh, bullets of water, pelting themselves from the clouds overhead. The sky is as gray as the day ahead seems to her.
The cycle initiates itself quickly. They argue, walk in silence, and sooner or later, a casual comment is heard from poor Brock, stuck in the middle, trying to ease the tension between the two younger, sulking trainers.
But it's all worth it, because at one, they arrive in the next town, the next gym, and his childish eagerness and enthusiasm will always make her smile, will always erase the pressure to be strong and mature, and to be a mentor. Instead, she is happy just to be a friend.
It's worth it, because sometime around one-thirty, the rain has stopped, and the sky is bright and refreshing and new. The daylight is dazzling and the gray of the previous hours quickly disappears and is replaced by a vivid cheerfulness, to all of them.
It's worth it, because by two-thirty, Team Rocket is blasting off again, and they celebrate, and her joy and relief always relieves and uplifts him, too.
It's worth it, because when four rolls around, he and his Pokémon have defeated the gym leader like they always eventually do, and they have the rest of the day to goof off, and he and Brock always insist that she chooses what they'll do for the rest of the afternoon. She realizes how much she appreciates them, and she hopes that they reciprocate the feeling.
Their lives are a series of these days, the occasional, yet rare, breaks and vacations scattered in throughout the same sequence, again and again, and all around Kanto they are awakening, arguing, and celebrating.
However, every series has its end, and one day, things start to change. She's not sure if the others notice it, but she certainly does. They have less of the fighting, more of the joy, and she feels less like she is dragging herself out of bed, and more of the refreshing sensation of a brand-new day, waiting to be filled with some adventure or other.
Something changes, and she starts to notice the spark in his eye when he's caught a new Pokémon, the sweet purity of his smile when he's beaten the gym leader. She notices the way he chooses to walk next to her, not running ahead like he used to, and the way he's started to listen to her, and actually talk to her, instead of their previous juvenile hostility and violence.
Something changes not only in him, but in her, and she notices the warmth in her stomach when she sees that smile, and the slow, gentle blush that appears on her face on when he grabs her hand to lead the group to their next exploration.
But she clutches his hand back, and she grins when she notices a matching red appearing on his own face, and her genuine contentment shines so brightly that it causes his blush to deepen, and he feels the same fluttery heat in his own stomach.
But their awkward exchanges are all worth it, because one day, at approximately five-fifteen, Brock is off making eyes at Nurse Joy, and they are alone together. They are talking, talking for real, about things other than Pokémon and gym battles. They are talking about thoughts and feelings, and all of a sudden one of them points out the blushes, and the stomach-Butterfree, and they lose track of who brought it up, because suddenly all that matters is that these strange and new emotions are shared.
Everything is so, so worth it, because on a Wednesday, at five-thirty, and from there on out, they have each other, they have friendship, and they have whatever this untouched, unknown affection is, and right now, that's all they really need.
(So that was it! I hope you enjoyed, I don't own Pokémon. I tried out a different style for this one, so constructive criticism would be great. I know it's really short, but I just couldn't bring myself to change it and make it longer. Oh, and it was inspired by an insurance commercial I heard on the radio. XD Anyways, thanks so much for reading!)
