Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Pokemon franchise and never will. This is a story I just wrote for fun because I'm a fan of Pokemon.

Also, I don't own the song "Remembering Sunday" by All Time Low and Juliet Simms, which this story is based on.

A/N: So, I wrote this during my long absence when I didn't have my computer with my files for Unwritten. I heard this song and fell in love with it, and somehow, this story came out of it. I honestly don't know whether I love it or hate it; I think it's really cheesy. :/

Cheren also feels out-of-character to me. I tried to capture his Black and White personality (the way I see it, Cheren's personality changes a bit between BW and Black 2 and White 2, due to being older and more mature), and I finished Black Version a long time ago, so I had to look through his quotes on Bulbapedia to get his personality just right. But... I think I failed.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story! :)

Note: The characters in this story are around twenty years old. Also, I recommend listening to the song "Remembering Sunday" by All Time Low and Juliet Simms before (and maybe while) reading.

EDIT (7/04/13): Fixed a couple errors that I noticed.

Remembering Sunday

"Cheren."

Cheren turned to face the source of the soft, sweet voice. She stood before him, smiling, her beautiful face flushed, the gentle breeze sweeping back her long, wavy, brown hair.

"Cheren," she said, "I love you."

Cheren woke, his head feeling as if it were being beaten by a thousand hammers. Shaking, he slowly rose in his bed, squeezing his eyes shut and massaging his forehead to ease the pain. How the hell did this happen? he wondered.

He managed to soothe the pounding of his head enough to open his eyes. Blue eyes wandering his bedroom, he discovered the empty wine bottle sitting on his nightstand.

Oh. Right...

Moving carefully, Cheren slid his legs over the side of the bed and placed his elbows on his knees, running his open hands over his face. He strained his aching mind as he tried to remember what had happened the previous few days, but he couldn't. It was all a blur.

In fact, the last day he could remember clearly—as well as the last day he was sober—was Sunday.

Sunday...

A swarm of Butterfree began to flutter violently in his stomach at the thought of the day.

"I'm bored," Hilda, Cheren's childhood friend, stated.

"Hmm," was all Cheren gave as a response, his blue eyes focused on the open novel in his hand.

It was around one o'clock in the morning, shortly after Bianca and Hilbert—both also being his childhood friends and Hilbert being Hilda's cousin—left after a movie night at Cheren's house. However, for some reason that Cheren couldn't discern, Hilda insisted on staying.

"Cheren," Hilda said.

"Yes?"

"I'm really bored."

"Okay." What does she expect me to do?

They sat in silence on the couch. He thought he felt her shift on the cushions, moving closer to him. He peered at her from the corner of his eye; she didn't look at him. Instead, she gazed at the floor shyly—Hilda being shy? He brushed off her odd behavior and returned his attention to his book.

Two seconds later, the book was suddenly yanked from his hand. As quickly as that had happened, Hilda was then practically on his lap, her lips pressed tightly against his, her hands clutching the collar of his shirt. His cry of surprise was muffled by her lips, sounding more like a moan; his eyes grew wide.

Very gently, Cheren pushed her away. "Hilda...?" he asked, breathless. "What—?"

"I told you: I'm bored," she replied, smiling playfully as her cheeks grew slightly pink. "I need something to do."

"But why me?" he asked. "Do you... Is it because you like me?" He felt his face flush; he felt foolish asking this. The phrase sounded juvenile, like he was a young teen rather than an adult. But he wanted to know why she was suddenly showing so much interest in him. Of course, it wasn't like he minded the unexpected show of affection...

Hilda giggled. "Maybe." She then stood, taking his hand in hers and pulling. "Come on," she urged.

Although he was confused, he obliged, rising to his feet. "Where are we going?" he asked as she led him across the living room.

"Upstairs." She flashed him a grin.

He understood immediately what she was getting at. The steady beat of his heart picked up.

Cheren sighed, falling back onto the mess of tangled sheets on his bed. Hours after sleeping together, they woke and ate breakfast together. Hilda left after finishing the food; though he had called several times later that day, he never heard from or saw her since.

But after that night they spent together, he craved being with her more than he ever had before. He felt closer to her that Sunday morning. When he hadn't heard back from her, he assumed, he began drinking in hopes of filling the void of Hilda's lacking presence.

His pounding headache had managed to die down. He grabbed the phone off of his nightstand, quickly dialing a number and waiting impatiently for someone to pick up.

"Hello?" a woman's groggy voice answered.

"Hello, Ms. White? It's Cheren."

"Cheren?" He heard Hilda's mother yawn. "It's two in the morning. What's wrong?"

Cheren glanced at the clock, and sure enough, it was two o'clock. He cursed himself mentally for not bothering to check the time before calling. "Oh. Sorry, Ms. White, I didn't realize..." He then cleared his throat. "Well, I was just wondering: Is Hilda there? I just wanted to check up on her."

"Um... no, Hilda's not here. She hasn't been in days—since Sunday night, I think. I figured she was with you this whole time...?"

Even her own mother doesn't know of her whereabouts...? "Actually, I haven't seen her since Sunday, either."

"Oh, dear..." Even through the phone, Cheren could sense Ms. White beginning to grow tense. And he could relate—now that he was aware that Hilda wasn't at her own home, he felt his chest grow heavy as concern and panic overcame him.

"I'll let you know if I see her," he reassured, not only trying to convince her but himself. "Knowing Hilda, she's most likely out training her Pokemon."

Ms. White let out a sigh. "Thank you, Cheren. I know I shouldn't worry too much about her. Hilda's a strong, independent young woman, and she can care for herself. And if I hear from her, I'll let her know that you called, okay?"

"Yes. Thank you, Ms. White." Despite the late hour, once the call ended, he immediately punched in another number.

After listening to the dial tone for what felt like forever, he finally heard a drowsy grunt come from the other end.

"Hello, Hilbert?" Cheren said.

"Cheren," a voice groaned childishly, which clarified that it, indeed, was Hilbert. "What the hell? Do you know what—"

"Yes, I know what time it is," Cheren interrupted, annoyed. After hearing that Hilda wasn't at home, he was desperate to have someone—anyone—assure him that Hilda was safe and sound. He didn't want to hear any pointless statements until he found out. "Have you seen Hilda lately?"

"No, I haven't..." Hilbert replied, yawning deeply as he spoke. "The last time I saw her was at your house. Why?"

Cheren heaved a deep breath, trying to calm himself. First her mother doesn't know, and then Hilbert... "I was just wondering. Because I haven't seen or heard from her, either. Sorry to bother you." And without another word, he hung up.

Two arms shot out from behind, tightly binding around Cheren's torso. He flinched, glancing over his shoulder at the girl that embraced him, that had her head nuzzled against his shoulder blades.

"Cheren!" she cried happily.

"Hilda," he gasped as she moved her head, placing her chin on his shoulder to look at his face. He gazed into her deep blue eyes as joy and relief flooded him. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I know. I missed you." Hilda's lips gently brushed against his cheek. "And... I love you."

He smiled. "I love you, Hilda..."

Cheren's blue eyes flickered open, the dream still vivid in his mind. He sat up in his bed as the phrase, Another dream, ran through his mind. While this was his first morning since Sunday that he didn't wake up hung over, he could still vaguely remember the dreams he had during the few drunken days. He could remember two things from every one of those dreams: Hilda, and her sincere voice saying, "I love you."

Once the pounding of his heart in his chest slowed, he ran his hands, quickly and roughly, through his black hair. "Damn it!" he growled, frustrated.

It drove him crazy that the moments he dreamed of weren't reality.

He heaved a sharp breath to cool himself down. Since Sunday, his thoughts about Hilda hadn't ceased, not for a single second. The events of the pleasant—yet, for him, somewhat nerve-wracking—morning replayed in his mind like a recorded movie. She was the prime subject of every one of his sweet dreams. He couldn't deny it; the hours they spent together that Sunday morning salvaged his deeply hidden feelings for her.

But as he started to contemplate the idea of Hilda returning those feelings, he realized that the possibility of that happening was very unlikely. Having known her since they were five years old, Cheren knew that Hilda, being the independent tomboy that she was, never showed any interest—or at least, romantic interest—in boys. Even when she reached adolescence, she remained on her own, turning down any guy that confessed their feelings for her.

Something she had once said echoed through his mind: "I don't believe in love."

Bullcrap, Cheren thought. Although it was a bitter thought, he believed it was true. He remembered Sunday, when she threw herself at him, blushing when he asked if she liked him. Even though her response was a vague "Maybe," he felt that she did harbor some romantic feelings for him. Why would she do that if she didn't feel that way about him?

Maybe I've changed her mind.

Cheren knocked on the green, wooden door of an unfamiliar house in Nuvema Town, his hometown. After a moment's wait, a young woman answered, shooting a glare at him. "Can I help you?" she asked, somewhat rudely.

As he continued on his endeavor of finding out about Hilda's whereabouts by going door-to-door, questioning every resident, Cheren realized that there were many people in Nuvema Town that he didn't know, despite being born and raised in the small town. But this didn't cease his efforts; he knew that Hilda knew everyone in town, and therefore, everyone knew Hilda.

"Hello, ma'am," he greeted, remaining his calm composure despite the woman's rudeness. "I was wondering if you have seen or heard from Hilda White recently?"

"No."

Slam.

Cheren sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples as he trudged away from the house. That's the last house in town that I've been to, and nobody has seen or heard from Hilda. He gulped, forcing himself to not think the worst. Maybe nothing bad has happened. Surely she's just training her Pokemon, wandering the Unova region—

"Cheren!"

He jumped at the sudden shout of his name. Opening his eyes, he looked up, seeing Bianca darting toward him on the dirt road. Rather than coming to a stop in front of him, she rammed right into him; she would've knocked him over if he wasn't expecting it.

"Cheren! I'm sorry, I'm—"

"It's okay," he said, pushing her away and keeping one hand on her shoulder to calm her. "Bianca, what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath; this was when Cheren noticed that her face, normally bright and cheerful, was painted with panic. "Cheren, I just heard from Hilda."

"You did?" His heart skipped a beat. "Where is she? What did she say?"

"I don't know where she is," Bianca replied. "She just called me a few minutes ago on my Crosstransceiver. I didn't understand most of what she said..."

"What did she say?" Cheren urged, desperate to know.

She shrugged. "She said something about leaving with Reshiram. She told me that she doesn't know where she's going herself, but she's not coming back." Swallowing, she clenched a hand over her heart. "She seemed really... sad. I wonder what had happened...?"

He let out a breath. Even though this cleared up where Hilda had been, it only brought up more questions that he desired to have answered. Why would she leave? How come she wasn't going to come back? Did it have anything to do with him? His chest ached at the thought of her reason for leaving being him.

There was a low rumble in the distance. The two young adults looked up at the sky—the normally blue expanse that was covered by dark gray clouds—at the same moment that raindrops began falling. At first, very few tiny droplets sprinkled down, but moments later, thousands of water drops started beating down on their heads.

With a surprised shriek, Bianca ran off down the path toward her house, quickly throwing a good-bye to her friend over her shoulder. Cheren remained where he stood, allowing the pouring rain to soak him.

He considered how rain was frequently used in literature to symbolize sadness and crying. After hearing the news about Hilda, he found it very fitting.

Funny how that works out.

Hilda allowed the rain to pierce her face, let the harsh gusts of wind lash at her skin. She held on tightly to Reshiram's back as the Vast White Pokemon soared over the Unova region, thousands of feet above the ground.

A tear slipped down her cheek, masked by the raindrops that streaked her face.

Why did I do that? she wondered as she recalled Sunday morning, the morning she spent with Cheren. Or, as she thought of it, the morning she fooled Cheren into believing she had feelings for him.

She didn't understand herself why she threw herself at Cheren the way she did. If she thought hard enough about the moment it happened, she believed she felt attracted to her childhood friend—the way he appeared so serene and intelligent as he read in the dim light of the living room.

You shouldn't have done that, she berated herself. You're an idiot.

Hilda was unsure about her feelings for Cheren. On one hand, he was a close childhood friend of hers and nothing more. He wasn't meant to be anything more. On the other, though, she did find his mature, strong, intelligent personality quite attractive. She had for a long time, though she refused to let it show. She constantly battled with herself over the matter; it was because of this uncertainty that she felt terrible for what she did with Cheren.

I led him on. She burst into tears, and though they didn't stop flowing from her eyes, she swiped all the water droplets from her face with her wrist. I can't imagine how he must feel right now. I wanted to talk to him about it, but... but I couldn't face him. If I turned him down, I would only ruin our whole friendship...

It was then that she glanced down. Her small hometown of Nuvema Town was beneath them, the streets empty aside from one person. Even though the person was merely a black dot on the dirt path from the altitude she was at, she recognized him immediately.

Swallowing hard, she averted her gaze, pulling the bill of her baseball cap over her tear-filled eyes. "Reshiram," she said urgently, "let's go."

With an ear-shattering cry, the Vast White Pokemon obliged, blasting off through the sky like a meteor.

Cheren stopped in his tracks and looked up at the clouded sky. Letting out a sigh, he reached into his pocket, drawing out a small, velvet box. Flicking open the lid, he examined the engagement ring inside that he had bought earlier that morning. Even in the lack of light, the diamond inset sparkled faintly, set in the center of the golden band.

He stared at it longingly, but looking at it now only brought more pain.

She was gone. She wasn't going to return. It didn't matter anymore.

He closed the box, returning it to his pocket.

"I guess I'll go home now."

The End

A/N: To be honest, writing the ending almost broke my heart. Probably because the ending of the song breaks my heart. :(

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review! :)

~Hayley

Note: Please refer to the notice on my profile before reviewing.