Tune4Toons: (The original long A/N was removed since its purpose is no longer needed. :D) Just to disclaim, I own nothing but the will to advertise this guy's amazing, self-composed music. Inspired by James Rogers' For Tim, I'd recommend reading this while listening to: (soundcloud DOT com/jimmygod0070/for-tim) Minus the spaces and changing the dot, of course. :)

And I'd like to give a special thanks to MessengerOfDreams for taking the time to beta! Seriously made this story a lot better than the first time around. XD So thank you for that! Music set? Then here we go! Enjoy~


。.•°•.。。 left 。。.•°•.。


It's raining again and I've been walking along the same path for hours. I never even realised when I started travelling along here to begin with, but I know exactly where it's going to take me.

No, it's more like I know who it's going to take me to.

The moment I trek to the top, there you are sitting on the cliff side in front of me again, looking down at the town below as if you are a runaway refugee who didn't want to come home. You didn't even notice that I was nearby until I clear my throat.

You turn around. "How'd you know I was going to be here?" Then you smile the way you usually would, looking at me as if you expect me to smile back.

You try too hard.

I hear you scoff. "And you don't know the meaning of politeness."

What am I going to do with you? You're always here when something's wrong. It's not easy watching you pretend to be happy, but the funny thing is that's the look you have on nowadays.

I remember the first time we met a long while back, when I was exploring the outskirts of town only to find you sitting here on this cliff. I found it weird that you'd be there considering it looked dangerous and it had been raining at the time, but there you were anyway staring at the raindrops that fell onto the town below. The moment you heard my footsteps, you turned around and looked at me with those big, blue eyes.

We both stayed still for a while, staring at each other without doing anything. I could see your gaze drifting to the sword I'd always carry, and I found myself expecting you to say something about it or asking why I was there or even who I was. Instead, you asked me to come sit with you.

We didn't know each other so I didn't know what to do, and that was when you stood up and took my arm, pulling me over towards the cliff before sitting down again. Don't get me wrong—I still find you strange—but I remember the way you smiled when I finally sat down beside you. It didn't matter that it was raining; it didn't feel like it was at all.

The rain is nice, isn't it?

"Wait, I thought you don't usually like the rain."

I could still see the days when we'd run into each other in town either in the streets or while I was working. It'd always rain here, and I hated how it'd get my cape wet. The funny thing was it was easy to forget the rain whenever I see you. You'd have this cheeky grin in every moment you spotted me. It'd always look like you were running towards me as if I was about to give you something. Then you'd tell me to take you somewhere, anywhere in fact, just so long as it somewhere.

Along the street, I can still see the days when you'd hop along the cobble stone streets like a pink pebble skipping across the water—sometimes you'd slip since the ground was wet—and you even tried to make me do it too. I wouldn't of course.

Now that I think about it, you'd try to make me do a lot of things when you were bored. You would make me hide you from the humans whenever they were around. It must've been strange being the only Pokémon among a society of people; I knew I was different too.

Maybe that's why we were able to be with each other. We were the same, two small puffs—as they'd call us—who had to look up in order to see the world.

That's what you told me once when we sat here at this very spot, when we looked down at the people and the town below, the only place where "We are the conquerors who tower over everyone!" as you'd say. Even now, I can still see you swinging your small, pink feet over the edge while humming a tune.

"What's wrong this time? You're acting weird again."

You haven't changed much since then.

I hear you giggling. "Are you expecting me to change?"

Is it wrong of me to?

Right about now, I expect you to make fun of me. Tease about me having a mask or carrying a sword or why a swordsman is barely a foot tall. I remember once when you did at this very spot, joking around about how I could pretend to be your knight in shining armour, the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.

But then you said, "Wait, you're not even that tall. Give me all your gear, and I can pretend to be the knight instead."

I remember standing here, watching you trying to grab my mask like a child. Couldn't help myself by saying that at least I was still taller than you.

And then you had that pout on your face, grumbling that you had to have been at least a centimetre taller. We even started comparing ourselves, standing next to each other and measuring our heads. Who knew that we'd end up being exactly the same height? You tried to tiptoe of course, but it had rained the day before, so instead you slipped back and fell onto the mud behind you.

"That's not fair!"

Life doesn't tend to be.


As I sit down next to you on the cliff, I realise you always managed to make things go your way.

Sometimes my left arm would throb a bit. It's the strangest feeling, like it can recall the days when you were always dragging me around from place to place. From the farmlands to the markets, and then to the residential areas too. We were always sticking to the alleyways and small streets, I noticed. You hardly let me stop either during your sprints, pulling on my arm even when I protested; all you would do was smile and tell me to keep up.

During the days when I'd be working for the blacksmith, you'd come into the shop and watch as he struck heated metal by the furnace as you waited for me to be done for the day. Or if I was on my errands, you'd follow me around, sometimes asking if you could help me.

But whenever we'd be walking on the busier streets where people were, you'd stay close behind me, eyes scrutinising the ground as if the cobble stones suddenly became more interesting. The both of us would get stares from humans passing by. Without looking, you could feel their gazes. Like we were aliens in their society.

How'd you manage to do it for all the years you've been here?

A lot of the times, we'd be here at the clifftop whenever it rained. Honestly, I didn't like it sometimes. Neither of us ever carried umbrellas and all we'd do was sit and talk with no cover; the talking was nice, but my body didn't always handle constant wind and rain well. Sometimes, I'd ask you to come back to town with me to take shelter in a warmer place, but you'd shake your head and stay where you were.

No matter what, you'd always come here on rainy days. When you were sick to the point of coughs or sneezes, the only way you'd move was if I forced you onto my back and carried you down the cliff towards town.

You can be so stubborn sometimes.

"But you can be just as stubborn as me."

And remember when you took me to your place once? You told me it was your trainer's house, but he was usually gone.

We came inside during a cloudy day, but you never told me why you invited me to begin with. Even now, I still don't know. I remember the way you slid open the door and let me in, how empty and echoey and dusty it was within the room's wooden walls, the way you only had a small rug in the centre for the two of us to sit down on. But while we were there, you told me how you met your trainer on a rainy day and how he'd been your partner ever since. It reminded me of the days when I used to have an apprentice under my wing in a different land from here. For the first time there, it occurred to me how similar we were.

Yet we were different all the same. You had a trainer and I was then no more than a traveller who was supposed to stay in this town for no more than a week.

It's been two years since then.

Guess I didn't find the need to leave yet, and at least I had a friend in this town. But I was curious, so I asked you where your trainer usually goes to work. You walked over to the window and looked up at the cliff in the distance. It started raining again.

You told me his body was buried in the clifftops.


Remember that day when we argued with each other? It was over something really silly and stupid that I don't even remember why we were mad to begin with anymore.

But was it wrong of me to not want to be your babysitter?

There I was yelling at you in town, and I could see the tears glistening in the corner of your eyes as you yelled back, but I didn't even hear a word you said—as if the world had gone mute. I think it was finally getting to me, all those years of holding back my frustrations. And I regret everything I did. Telling you that I never liked you. Demanding you to go play with somebody else for once. Calling you a childish brat who had nothing better to do than drag others into doing what you wanted.

Maybe I was finally beginning to lose myself, to the point where I yelled: I wish I never knew you.

I remember watching your eyes widen as you stiffened. You started stuttering, trying to force your words out while clenching your hands into fists. That point on, I knew I shouldn't have said that, and yet I was too proud; I didn't want to apologise for anything I said. But from there, I had to know.

Why did you make me sit next to you the day we met?

Your gaze drifted to the side as you bit your lip, trying to not let your tears fall. I asked again when it started to rain. I couldn't tell if you started crying or not since the raindrops hid it, but you looked up at me.

"I was lonely, okay?"

I felt myself tense up; I didn't know what to say, so all I did was listen.

"You didn't have anyone with you," you started sobbing as you wiped the tears off your face, "and I couldn't help but think that maybe you were just like me—the same. Always looked down upon by everyone. Always walking these streets alone. Always there with nowhere else to go.

"You were the only friend I had! There, I admit it! Happy now?"

Was it wrong of me to find it unfair? I took a step forward only to see you stepping back. Soon you turned around and ran away into the winding streets of the town. I wanted to chase after you, call out to you, but my feet stayed in place. My mouth didn't move. Instead I was stuck staring at nothing but a pink dot disappearing behind a veil of rain and walls.

And I still regret every moment of it.

The minute I snapped out of my trance, I knew exactly where to go. Is it wrong of me to say you were too predictable? It was raining again and I began walking along a familiar cobble stone path, one that winded around the pubs and houses of town, one that led to its outskirts and towards the cliff that overlooked it all.

And there you were sitting on the edge of that cliff, letting the rain fall on your face. I was only at the foot of the cliff when you spotted me from where you were. Even from where I was, I could see it. A faint smile on your face.

Why did I decide to sit next to you that day? I don't know. Maybe I was lonely too.

But the rain kept pouring, the wind kept blowing, and the world kept turning. It's funny the way some can fall from grace.

The mud gave way below you, and you slipped off the ledge. I ran as fast as I could. Tried to get to the foot of the cliff. Rocks crumbled from where you'd been and made a mudslide. All I remembered were your screams. The crashing rocks. The ground rumbling. My stomach turning the moment I saw you disappear within the falling mud and rocks. I desperately wanted to yell, but I couldn't even see through my mask anymore.

And everything plunged onto the ground in front of me, clouding into smoke.

It all hit me at once. Couldn't see where I was anymore. Couldn't apologise to you. Couldn't find you anywhere. Was it wrong of me to have let this happen?

I wasn't there to catch you in time.


I open my eyes only to see a cloudy sky as streams of water cooled off my face before looking down at the town drenching with rain below. I don't hear you answering back, so I turn to face you. The only thing sitting next to me are two small tombstones engraved with names.

Maybe it was meant to be. We were strangers from the start, and you had a partner while I did not. But was it wrong of me to have thought of you as mine? What happened wasn't fair—the world's worst wake-up call—but I'm glad you reached out to me that day we met. I don't know if I'll ever have the strength to do the same. Don't forget that. I know I won't.

But it's raining again and I miss you.