NA: I love this pair. So much. But alas, this fic is old so I don't know if the quality makes up for it. I hope so! I don't own pokémon but I hope you like this, which I own! Thank you :) Fun fact: I think this was one of the first fics I wrote in English so it has been a while since then.
Good-bye
It has to happen sooner or later. — MaySteven
—|—
"Good bye, May."
She smiles, keeps up a mask, hiding her fear. Shakes her head. Her heart sinks in her throat. Beating. Dread's claws are clenching her body. He turns away—points his spine at her—stands so far away. She tries to reach, but he walks away from her.
The time. The memories. Her. He leaves all of this to drown in the sea of Sin. Stamps all the memories, all her feelings—her burning desire—into the ground. Leave her alone with her engulfing hole in her stomach. She swallows; her throat is dry like the desert. The pain (agony) is beating in her chest.
No. He can't leave her. Not now.
She runs forward, clinging into his shirt. Pulling him close and smells his gorgeous cologne. Wrinkles her nose. He's so real. So pure. She doesn't care that he is too old. Her feelings are too strong—too passionate—for her to let him go away. He is a part of her—and will always be. Clings to her memories. She can recall every scene with him perfectly. Their first meeting. The moment when she started to realize that she can't feel like this with anybody else. Not Brendan. No one else.
Steven.
—|—
"Hi!" he greets, waving at her. "Are you lost?"
His strong voice, masculine appearance, sparking eyes and pure smile makes her just stare. She can't answer. Words are stuck in her trout. Her chin shakes.
He looks at her, suspiciously. Maybe he finds her lack of continuing a conversation weird. She swallows, tries to come up with a good line to spit at him fails.
"Something the matter?" he asks. She looks up. Her brown hair flicking forward. Why does she react like this?
She knows the answer to that question. It's far too simple to ignore.
When she accepted to deliver the Devon Gods to a Steven Stone in Dewford, she'd never guessed that is was the all-round-known Steven— famous for his care for Pokémon, dreadful skills in battles, mining, and—of course—his wonderful looks. But not only that, he was far more amusing in real life. Burning with life. It makes her heart stop.
"No," she says nervously, looking into the ground. The small rocks catch her toes.
He smiles. "What are you doing here? I don't recognize your face. And by the look of your eyes—you're not really into caverns, aren't you?"
She feels her face gets red. Strokes her hair back. "Nah, not really. I prefer open areas. I'm here to deliver a package to a 'Mr Steven Stone'. I guess that is you."
His smile gets wider. "Yeah. That's me," he adds unnecessary. "Thanks. What's your name?"
She smiles back. "May."
"May." She likes his way of pronouncing her name. "Maybe we see each other again." It isn't really a question.
"I hope so."
—|—
She didn't hope. She needed it.
He is older. He is wiser. And she clings to that. Clings to his comforting arms, warm smile and intelligent words.
She knew from the beginning that it was wrong. Was and is. He is an adult and she's a child. Only fourteen. Her parents—who really only do care about her—will never accept it. Even Brendan said that it probably just would run out in the sand due to the complications. Her own analysis says the same—stringing lines in her head that fulfill the same ending. But that's the problem when it comes to wrongdoing. You ignore it until it's too late and you can do nothing to prevent the wave from crashing into the cliff. The challenge. And in some way— which can occur as stupid but nevertheless truth and straight to the point—she wants someone who can take care of her. Not like a parent but someone close, inching near, like a ball close to the hole on the Green, that still has the experience and know that it is not easy to be young. So much happens. Body transforms from child to youth, rejections, knowledge that's passing through without reaching the target. She needs a firm point in her life—someone she can talk to and will listen—without judging her.
No, she can't help but to feel this way. Of course it was a kind of awkward feeling at the beginning—he was handsome and seemed to be ten steps before her—and he was more of an inspiration than an attraction for her. Okay, sure she wanted to see him again. But she never knew that it was going to grow so fast—the seed sprouted and she could do nothing but to watch the flower bloom, spread out like a bonfire. And then it was too late. Too late to do anything about it.
He is older. But not old. And that's the difference is the leach dragging her forward. Because she clings—clings to the fact that there may be a chance. Chance of succeeding. Maybe.
—|—
She actually meets him in Mauville again. She has just succeeded beating Wattson—the old man was fierce and eager but she soon learned to use that to her advance to at last pull in a victory—and walks back, with her newest Gym Badge in her hands, smiling, to the Pokémon Center when she spots a fringe that she recognizes. The first impulse is to ignore him—she doesn't have anything to do with him, does she—and she walks to the Mart instead. She needs to stock on Super Potions anyway, her supply is starting to vanish like the sun on the night. However, she doesn't get far until she hears that voice that makes her almost freeze in place.
"May? Hi!"
He's so enthusiastic. She wonders why.
"Hi!" She sounds enthusiastic too. But she can't help it. It's just something with him that makes her smile. Fell warm. Something.
"How are you? How does your Eight Badge Run go?"
She shows him the last Badge. He smirks. "I'm heading to Lavarigde Town next I think," she tells him, smiling with her teeth. "You know that Gym Leader?"
"Actually I do but I'm not going to tell you anything." Those light-blue—with a stench of purple—rests on hers.
She pouts. "Aw. That's mean."
He tilts his head and then lays a hand on her shoulder and it feels like electricity is striking inside her body. She doesn't want him to remove it but so he does. "Hey, just because I like you doesn't mean that I'm going to spill knowledge on you."
Then he walks away, still smiling.
I like you
—|—
And so it continues. Maybe that's why she falls for him. Because he always show up when she wants. Because she can string along that he may like her too. It seems like it, why can't it be? He's so different, so mature; he really knows what he wants. So different than her. That falls because she doesn't understand the hardship—shooting arrows at her that kills—that life has in store for her. And when she falls he catches her. She's sure that he doesn't mean to do it. It comes naturally. All he says, all he does, it's like jigsaws in the puzzle she wants to solve. To get the picture, the image, of what she's searching for. Every meeting feels so natural—like words come before she's actually thinking them. They just do. All the smiles, all the laughs. There is nothing mannered—it's flowing. Flowing like a river, washing away obstacles built for prevention.
"May, how is you quest coming along?"
Usually, she hates that question. She doesn't really know why. Maybe because it's a sign that that's all she is. Her journey. Her talent. But when Steven's asking, it feels like something else—like everything does with him. Like he cares. That he's proud when she comes farer on the road of destiny. He's always there to support her when she loses—which she does, everybody does— and appeals when she wins. He seems so near, like he means it, like she's number one for him. Of course—the opposite would be goofy—she likes Brendan but no matter what will happen, she's sure—it's clearer than moonlight striking through thick fog— that it will remain as that. There is only one for her. It may be wrong but she can't deny the fact that it's true.
Steven and May. She can't help but to smile when she unites them from one to two.
And after the event in Mossdeep—his home is there by the way—she is stuck. Stuck in the swamp. And she can't escape. It's too late. It was too late from the start.
She loves him.
—|—
"A child and a goof? This is starting to become extremely ridiculous," Maxie says with a sign, his masculine voice purrs with an angry tone hidden deep inside. "Do you honestly believe that we're gonna let you stop us?"
No. But they—May and Steven—are gonna chance the rules. How hard can it be?
Even in this situation, she understands that this is more than a normal Pokémon Battle—these guys are fierce—she can't help but to feel her heart rising at the thought teaming up with Steven. That he wants to fight alongside her. It is stupid but she cannot resist the thought. He looks at her carefully before he sends out his Metang and starts attacking Tabitha's Golbat, which is flying across the museum, pillar high and drafting irreparably divulged over the floor. Watches her every moment. Watches her safety. How can she prevent herself from falling when he does that to him? It's impossible.
"Blaziken!" she exclaims, breathing heavily due to the agitation. "Blaze Kick on the Mightyena now!"
With its rapid feet—gaining speed from below—its jumps up in the sky, confusing the Mightyena which is glaring intensely. Due to Blaziken's high speed it is impossible to indicate when the strike is gonna hit. The Fire Pokémon turns around when the Dark Pokémon is trying to shrink into the ground, trying to reduce the chance of hitting and then runs rightly into it and sends it flying with its burning kick. The Mightyena crashes into the wall, dust spreads and the tail hangs. Some small bits of fervor can still be seen in the dark fur. Maxie mutters something for himself and puts his hands on his hips. She walks forward and orders her Pokémon to use a Double Kick when he quickly counters with a Shadow Ball. But it's not aiming for the Blaziken. It's aiming straight for May. She freezes. The ball consuming the darkness around is way too big to be avoided with her two legs.
And then it happens. Of course.
"Look out!" Steven screams and runs to her, pushing her down to the ground, lies over her, shielding her with his body. The Shadow Ball passes right over them, bashing into the wall that crumbles heavily. Her eyes are big. He's still over her, she can feel her warmth. His breathing in her face. He touches her hair, looks her in the eyes. The shield is gone. This is him. And he cares. There is no point in denying it now. "Are you okay, May? Are you hurt?"
"No, no," she says when her voice crack. He stands up and orders his Metang to use Metal Claw in order to keep some distance. Offers her a hand and then puts an arm around her shoulder, squeezing it tightly. She can barely stand—she has to use her mind to strike actions to her Blaziken. Tears make her vision blurry.
"You will be okay," he whispers when he has floored the Golbat with the dual type Pokémon's dreadful claws. "I'm here. You don't need to worry anymore."
—|—
And it never returns to the same again. She cannot run away. She has to face it. Face it that the struggling is over. Can only fly with the smothering wind and hopes that he will catch her.
And he does. First.
But now it's the time when the age-gap is coming into the frame. She can't ignore it. He won't let her. Not anymore.
—|—
It is a nice morning in Mossdeep, the branches of the trees are moving rapidly in the wind's movement and the glowing sun is rising, spreading a color mixed by blue and orange.
May sits in his home with her legs swinging around. The futon scuffs beneath her. She looks at him, sitting with his sofa, reading a book. She doesn't get the title. Probably some author she'd never heard off. She coughs and lays her hands on the edge, trying to get his attention. She feels uncomfortable—mostly because she has no idea where life is directing her now. The aftermath seems harder than the real one. She loves him, that's not a secret. But he's… not denying it, more like ignoring it. Says she's too young. But she cannot agree on that. How can she be too young? Can anybody be too young when both are sure that this is equal? She can't believe it. Doesn't want to believe it. Not now. He's been there for her. Is that over? Why can't she be happy the way it is?
Because she can't. That time is over. The snowball is rolling down the hill and she has no chance to stop it. It's too late. Too late for any of that.
"Steven?" she asks, the question swaying back and forth as time passes. "What should we do?"
"Hm?" he looks up and narrows his eyes.
"You know. Us. I like you. You should've noticed that by now. And I…" Her voice vanishes.
He signs. "I know that. But I can't. You're too young."
She rises up and walks towards him. Is not going to accept that. That's only a simple excuse to hide the real truth he doesn't want to stand with. "Why should that be a problem? It's not like I'm ten."
He closes the book. "Particularly no. But near enough. May, I can't do this. It's not right for you. I'm an adult. We can't match each other. I think in another way than you. You're still young and have a lot to learn. I'm not going to prevent you from doing that."
Angry tears pours down before she has a chance to stop them. She feels so… broken, embezzled from the credit card. "You promised me to take care of me. Was that only a lie?"
He signs deeply, probably thinking that she's some kind of spoiled kid that says things without another thought. That is probably true. But she has always been that kind of way. She can't help it, can't chance the person that's being her. Not even for him. "You can't say that and believe that's going to change anything. This is wrong. I abuse you. You do not love me—you're impressed by the person that you think is me. And no relationship can survive on a frail ground."
"You…" She swallows deeply and trying to prevent—to no avail—more tears from running. "How can you say that? I love you. I love you so much that there is no point denying it anymore. And I may be young but I'm not too young! How can you do this to me? I know what love is. I know it's true. I…I…" She gasps, trying to breathe but her desolation makes it too difficult. Snorts gravely, running down her face like a slide. He looks at her with gloomy eyes. His hands trembling and he clutches them.
"May…"
That word. The way of him saying that word. Then she understands that he's not unaffected by her. That's why he wants her to leave and never come back. To save himself. Save him from this "wrongdoing". For some reason she doesn't feel any better after coming up with that conclusion.
"Stop crying," he wishes quietly, his voice is only a shadow than what is was before. "Please May…"
Then she—even if she shouldn't—throws himself in his arms, embracing him tightly, inhaling that scent that's so him. Presses her body against his, her limps going limp when she feels his warmth. First, he doesn't do anything, just sits there like a stiff lamp-post but then he slowly relaxes, wraps his arms around her neck.
"I love you, Steven," she cries, her tears dropping down at his collar.
He touches her head. "I know."
—|—
But no matter how many "I love you" or "you're perfect" they smashes around to each other it would soon come to an end. She doesn't want it. Neither does he. She doesn't feel the need of quitting it. But so he does.
And then she's back as she starts.
"No…No… Steven, you can't go." The tears are running frequently now. Pounding down at the ground like a tremendous rainfall covering everything.
Can't stand that word. That simple word.
"I must."
Nothing more. It's over.
"We can try. Try to-"
He pushes her away and she feels to the ground, gaping as her world is trashing to pieces. She's never gonna rebuilt it again.
"We tried. It didn't work."
Then he looks at her. For one last time.
"Good-bye, May."
I love you.
—|—
"Brendan," she says and spins around the spoon in her bowl of cereal, "do you think love is nice?"
He lifts his glass of milks and lifts one eye-brow. "Nah. I dunno. Perhaps. It depends on who I guess."
"I loved someone once. It didn't work. I don't know if it ever will."
"It will, May," Brendan assures her and smiles slightly. "Somehow."
"Yes," May says and stops spinning the spoon, looking up.
Somehow it will.
—|—
fin