May dreams.
She dreams of chasing Skitties through grass fields and tucking red flowers into her hair. She dreams of meeting legendary Pokémon under the shadow of a tower and battling gym leaders who look upon her with awe. She dreams of sunny skies and white sand beaches and the salty tang of ocean on the tip of her tongue.
But, she also dreams of lava and heavy rainfall. She dreams of molting magma boiling humid air. She dreams of endless rain smeared against a glass window. She dreams of a boiling sun and flooded land, of people suffocating to heat stroke and people drowning in rivers once peaceful. She hears the screams of people far and wide, sees the giants in the distance shadows of heat haze and mist that rise up to wreak havoc upon the world.
And, she dreams of a man with blue hair. Dreams of a man whose blue eyes make her breath catch in her throat and her face run red. She dreams of his lips pressed against the tip of his ring, of rainbow light dancing on his face as a Mega Metagross manifests beside him. She hears his voice, soft and light yet somehow strong and firm, whispered into her ears.
She dreams of Steven Stone, of Team Aqua and Team Magma, of days of naïve childhood, and dreams of much more. She dreams of the future, of a world where she can stand side by side with that man with the ring of rainbow light. She dreams of red roses in her hair and in her hand, of skies clear and bright but not without a hint of rain.
She dreams of walking through an aisle of white, faces of familiarity peering at her with smiles bright and kind. She dreams of stepping across a red rug, dreams of standing at an altar with a veil over her face.
She dreams of Steven Stone greeting her there, standing in black with a smile on his face. His eyes are soft, reassuring, and he lifts the veil over her face with gentle hands.
She dreams of his lips against hers, of his eyes closing and hers too as the roses become pressed against their chests.
…And she wakes up to the nightmare of corpses floating in an ocean, standing on the wasteland of an island baked to the barren bone. She awakens to a nightmare of emptiness, to a world neither dry nor wet.
Water froths at her feet, boiling and searing and she recoils. The sun overhead burns down upon her, blistering and unforgiving.
It's too late to dream of pretty dreams. It's too late to dream of roses or marriage or handsome boys killed by primal titans.
And, it's too late for her to dream a dream when the world she has left to dream of is nothing but a nightmare she can't escape from.
I wanted to try a piece on Steven/May but it got a little out of hand lol
Next time I'll try for something more romantic and less tragic but knowing me quite honestly anything goes