Talking Things Out
It was a warm, Summer day at the Granger dojo and the G Revolutions were taking some time off. It had been a few days since the BEGA Justice 5 tournament but they still needed rest, time to heal as it were. Tyson sat alone, quietly in the back, effortlessly flicking Noon's feed to the Koi swimming just below him in the pond. Though he was only in his backyard, the fresh air and the Vitamin D from the sun felt nice, not to mention the cool breeze that blew through every few minutes.
"Tyson?" At the sound of the familiar voice, he turned to see Mathilda. The shy and short girl was peering at him nervously beneath her pink bangs.
"Hey, Mathilda, what's up?"
"C-can I talk with you?"
"Sure, but shouldn't you go to your teammates for this?" She shook her head, her big, fairy-like pink eyes glistening with unshed tears. That made Tyson arch an eyebrow. He'd not once seen her cry in all the time he's known her, let alone look this upset. What could be eating at her?
"Everything okay?" She said nothing, and Tyson watched while she shook like a brittle leaf.
"Mathilda?"
"Damn boys!" she bellowed. Tyson jumped, he didn't even know she could scream.
"What?!" the navy blue haired man let out in shock, his face reflecting said emotion 100x.
"Yeah, you need to go to one of the girls, who are inside, or call your mom. I'm sorry, but I can't help with this kind of stuff. I don't get girls yet," he told her.
"He doesn't care," she continued, speaking rather low, near a whisper. Her tone and pitch were definitely much softer than they were just moments ago.
Did she not hear what I just said? he thought, big beads of sweat starting to run over him.
"Wh-who doesn't care?" he reluctantly urged. Well, he was here, unfortunately, and he was way too deep in it to even try and speak his way out. Why did he have to be so nice? Why couldn't he be like Rick Anderson and tell her to buzz off like a bee? Oh yeah, he had morals… and an endlessly lecturing grandpa. He took a breath, and looked at her.
This is so going to be awkward, he thought.
"Mathilda, what's wrong? What happened?" Tyson calmly started. She sat next to him, her eyes shifting aimlessly around the area as she spoke. Tyson didn't know it, but this was making her feel uneasy too.
"I, I told him how I felt last night," she began.
Oh no, here we go, he thought.
"And? What did the guy say?"
"He, he didn't say anything. He just left," Tyson cleared his throat and stiffly leaned back, putting the white, paper bag of fish food near the entrance.
"Well, maybe he couldn't give you an answer then. He might be the nervous, shy type, ya know? Like me and Max. Like you are," She looked at him, more relaxed, her eyes focusing on him.
"Really? You think so?"
"Yeah, just give him a bit. A day or two maybe. You'll see, he'll come around. I'm sure of it,"
"Thanks, Tyson," she said with a bright smile.
Who am I kidding? he thought, mentally grimacing at his rotten luck.
"Sure, no problem," he said happily.
"I feel a lot better," she said, a heavy weight leaving her dainty shoulders.
Apparently, I'm kidding her, he thought again.
"Um, why couldn't you go to anyone else for this? Seriously, why me of all people?" He both needed to, and felt he very much deserved to, know at this point.
"Because I knew the others would tease me, or probably try and tell him before I was ready to," she timidly said, her voice squeaking. For a moment, Tyson thought she sounded like a mouse. Like one of the female ones from the '50s version of Cinderella. In a dorky sort of way, it was really cute.
"Okay. Well, glad I could help. I hope Miguel returns your feelings,"
"Huh?"
"I look forward to hearing about how he feels,"
While this was an odd conversation, Tyson does genuinely care for her and deep down hopes she'll be truly happy in life.
"Oh, no, it's not Miguel. None of them," she said, shaking her head, her voluminous pixie cut bouncing repeatedly off of her small, round cheeks. Now the champion was thrown for a loop. A little voice told him not to, that he'd end up regretting this, but he ignored it and pressed on, sheepishly asking the obvious.
"If it's not Miguel, or anyone else on your team, then who is it?" Mathilda swallowed, a little apprehensive. Then, she rather confidently stated,
"… It's, Kai,"
Joy poured from her features, while the color drained from Tyson's but his smile still remained. It's like his face had been permanently stuck that way, frozen. He watched as Mathilda went inside, all bubbly and giddy, like she was on Cloud 9 and she was. As Walt Disney once put it, she was completely twitterpated.
This was torture! he thought, absentmindedly waving goodbye to her, and internally screaming.
The End.
Please R & R? I hope you like it! ^_^