I find myself at your door, just like all those times before.
I'm not sure how I got there. All roads, they lead me here.

Sapphire sits before her hearth with a nice mug of apple cider and nearly falls asleep after a long day's rushing and romping about, when a hand slams against her door.

She stirs and sets the mug down, but before she can even make it to her little house's front door, more pounding knocks sound out. She glances at her window before yanking the door open; it's pitch black out, and probably just past midnight. Who would be calling on her at such a time?

"Whaddaya want?!" she screeches and looks down at the form kneeling before her. "Oh. It's you."

Ruby sits before her, looking sorry, as if he was just a little boy who'd been scolded.

"What are ya here for?" she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe.

It is then that he lifts his head, and she knows the look in his eyes. It's lost and desperate and confused and hurt. It's a look for every low feeling you could experience; it's a look for wartime and emotional trauma. Sapphire's seen it many times before, but hardly ever on him. Where was the cool, aloof young man she knew so well?

She straightens and sighs. "Come in, then."

He follows behind her doggedly and she makes him cider. Honestly, they were adults. She had her own little house, and he his own apartment in Lillycove. Why was he acting like such a child, following behind her?

Once the warm mug is encircled in his frosty hands—wasn't he the one who was always telling her to wear gloves when the weather grew cold?—she interrogates him.

He tells her what happened; she gives him an awkward pat on the head and tries to help. She doesn't realise that her presence is enough to calm him immensely. Then once he's calmed down and the fire has nearly burned out, he takes his leave. She calms her heart, hating the effect those sad red eyes have had on her since she was just a little girl.

Of course, it happens again.

He appears late at night, some weeks later, telling her how sorry he is, but there was no where else he wanted to go. She takes him in. They talk. He looks at her seriously and speaks. Four words this time.

"Can you fix me?"

And one from her.

"Always."

Something different and awful happens each time. It haunts him and he needs her. He lost a very important contest. He upset his mother. He was badly beaten in a fight. He disgraced his father somehow. Marge left him. He lost someone's respect or trust.

She is always there.

And she doesn't know how to sew, but she stitches up his heart nicely and sends him on his way, time and again.

"You're going through a rough patch," she tells him, but it doesn't alleviate his nerves. He is plagued by ghosts that have followed him for years, waiting for him to let his guard down so that they may prey upon his mind. She'd seen it happen to some of the other dexholders. She assures him that things will be just fine, but he doesn't believe.

"Sometimes, when things get hard, that's what it feels like," she says. "Like nothing will ever be okay again, but it will." She hates the way her heart jump when he lets her take him in her arms. The unanswered question of Mirage Island looms within her, but she pushes it away. This poor fellow is so broken and he was recently in a relationship—(she disguises a scowl at the thought of Marge)—and she shouldn't be thinking of such things.

And yet, she starts to anticipate it. She makes an extra mug of apple cider. If he doesn't come, she just tosses it unceremoniously down the drain. But if he does, well, then it's there.

He shows up on her doorstep looking scuffed-up and lost, like a stray puppy. He gives her his broken, beaten heart to mend time and again, and she gives him three words—"You bloody idiot."

Because he is. They both know it. But it's okay, because she's fixing him.

He finds himself dreading his return home, because his apartment feels empty. It doesn't smell like all of autumn bottles up, like Sapph's house did. Like rain, pumpkins, fallen leaves, cinnamon, firewood—like she took a bit of forest and brought it back, dragging it around so that everything felt so perfectly messy, so comfy and homely. His apartment isn't like that. It doesn't feel like "home".

So even when he starts to feel better, he still comes to her. And then their discussions aren't so morbid. They catch up on things that have been happening; they've both been so busy that they barely talked before he showed up that first time.

So he finds himself before her again, and realises as he pulls himself up from this darkness that she's the reason he's okay. Everyone considered her the rash one, and yet she was such an anchor for him.

They exchange words; his three for her five.

"I love you."

"Well, it's about damn time."

With a kiss that tastes like apples, he feels perfectly fine for the first time in a long time.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY PATSU-SENPAI!

Not precisely sure why I thought your birthday was the 5th, buuut /"

So this is very very short, but I actually kind of like it. Autumn is my favourite season, and so I just love imagining this cute little house of Sapph's and Ruby just appearing...I know it's not the most descriptive or specific, but the vagueness just kind of consumes it so that the focus is on the two of them.

This honestly started as a Pandora Hearts fanfic featuring Oz, Alice, and Gil at a football game and I have no idea how it turned into this.

ANYWAYS, everyone, if you are kind you should go read my wonderful senpai's Pokespe fanfics; they are so incredibly sweet and capture so much emotion! Though her one story about unrequited love is just amazing, my favourite has to be the one entitled "Make Red Jelly Belly Jealous" XD hoho that title. But anways, Patsu-senpai (patsu18) is a great writer and such a sweet friend, and a birthday girl! So go wish her a happy birthday!

Rant over! Thank you for reading!
-Silvia

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokespe or anything else.