Notes:
1. The story actually starts with Chapter 1, so if you aren't interested in the prologue establishing how Cynders and Ethan meet, feel free to skip ahead.
2. In addition, the prologue and chapter 1 were written all the way in 2011. Their writing styles differ, as will my current ones. This story is for me to learn how to write a plot, and learn how to do good storytelling while I'm at it.
Ephemeral
Prologue
Ethan remembers. He's very good at remembering. Sometimes, when his mom forgets a number as she's adding up bills at the kitchen table, Ethan, who is watching TV, will pipe up and say it because he remembers the last amount she said aloud before she'd added another to the total. She majored in math in university, she told him once, when the teacher taught Ethan's class how to add and subtract and he couldn't get the hang of it. Because Ethan remembers that too, he beams when her smile is delighted because she's proud that he's good with numbers too.
It runs in the family, she says, and then doesn't say anything more for a second.
At first he doesn't understand it, doesn't get it, and doesn't catch onto it. Gradually, though, over the years, he notices how her smile dwindles and he asks her what's wrong. He's told that nothing's wrong, but since Ethan remembers things, he learns not to brush the topic of 'family', and the word 'dad' is out of the equation entirely.
If there's anything Ethan doesn't really know much about, it's his dad, and if there's anything his mom doesn't want to talk about, it's his dad too.
He thinks of it with an equality sign: One plus one equals two; therefore, his dad plus his mom equals Ethan plus his mom, because his dad's not around anymore to be the three. The math works out, so Ethan doesn't say a word more about his calculation, and instead keeps it to himself and in the back of his head. It's hard enough to remember things, but even harder to forget them, after all.
It makes sense, then, that Ethan remembers the day he turns ten will be the day he's going to go out and explore the world. To him, it makes sense. On TV, there are all sorts of adventures playing on. He likes watching the Pokemon Rangers in their quest to defend nature with their Pokemon by their sides, but he wants to see what else is there.
It's cool, to have a Pokemon. He knows because Lyra got one last year, and it's like a second best friend, with Lyra being his first.
His mom always answers the question of, "Can I have a Pokemon?" with a smile that Ethan can never really understand the meaning of.
"Wait until you're ten," she tells him. She's always telling it to him, and sometimes she's absentminded, so Ethan reminds her the day before his birthday, hours before the clock will beep to twelve, and even more hours before he'll get his first Pokemon, as soon as he gets up.
"You'll be ten already?" She asks, surprised, and then laughs at his excitement. "Are you going to stay over at Lyra's house tonight?"
"Of course!" he chirps, chewing down his breakfast like he's been fasting, between bits of food.
They grew up together, so they know the 'ins and the outs' as Lyra's mom says all the time – especially when Ethan pops into Lyra's house right after breakfast—but Ethan knows they know each other a lot better than that.
Sometimes, when there's nothing to do, they'll sneak into each other's rooms and sleep there for the night or have impromptu sleepovers. Sometimes, they'll watch shows together and talk about what's real and what isn't late into the night. Sometimes, he and Lyra will visit Professor Elm and ask all sorts of questions about the Pokemon. And sometimes, they just play video games all day long, and then Pretend; though lately, Lyra's been going her own way now and Ethan sort of, kind of, maybe misses her.
He asks Lyra why she won't get a starter or leave town – she's old enough – but really, he's kind of happy when she says she'll do it at the same time he does. They do things together, after all, and he doesn't think he'd like it all that much if she wasn't there.
Still, Ethan doesn't do the silly girly stuff that Lyra does like picking out baby names because the Pokemon isn't a baby, but he likes playing with her Marill enough to know that he'd like one of his own and that no matter if he messes up the name, it'll be the name he gave it, and it's going to be the best ever. He dreams of the day he can proudly show Lyra his own Pokemon, when all four of them can finally play together, and it'll be like never growing up.
"Which one are you going to get?" Lyra asks him, the night before his tenth birthday, when they're sleeping over in her room. Ethan's in his old, worn sleeping bag that he has yet to outgrow, and she's on her bed beside him, tucked behind a warm quilt with Marill slumbering right beside her. She crawls over to the edge of the bed to peer down at him, eyes particularly shining.
"Cyndaquil!" He says immediately, with a big goofy grin that can barely be seen in the dark. "Lyra, when I get my Pokemon, do you want to battle?"
Lyra studies him, and sighs almost in disbelief. "You know Marill's a water type, right?"
"So?"
"Cyndaquil is a fire type."
She lets the implication slide in, and when it does, Ethan's grin is lost.
"Oh." He says, chastened, disheartened, in a very quiet voice.
"Ethan?" Lyra asks, and gently reaches down and threads their fingers together, swinging them back and forth. "You okay?"
"Can't we play together anymore, Lyra?" he asks. "I want to battle with you."
"It doesn't mean we can't," she says.
"But water beats fire."
"Silly," She admonishes him, "You'll just have to get a Grass-type Pokemon if you want the type advantage."
He stops the swinging. "But I don't want a Chikorita! I want a Cyndaquil! And I want all of us to play together!"
"I didn't say you couldn't." Her voice, fond, wafts sleepily over from the side of the bed. She pulls her pillow closer to the edge so that their fingers don't have to let go and can just hang. "I guess we'll have to be careful, then. It'll be fun."
She's half-asleep when Ethan pipes up again.
"Lyra?"
"Mm?"
"You promise?"
"Of course."
"Okay."
It's always weird, though, after that kind of conversation. Ethan doesn't know why. But he likes it, Lyra's warmth seeping through his fingers, and falls asleep clutching at it. The next morning, he'll wake up curled into a ball both fingers latched onto hers, and Lyra will be sleeping late like she always does instead of waking up at the crack of dawn with him to watch the sun rise from her window.
When it's eight o'clock, Ethan can't wait anymore, not even for her, he gets up.
"Lyra, we're going to be late."
"Mm."
"Lyra, you're not going to get a Pokemon!"
"Mm."
"Lyra!"
"Go get one first," Lyra mumbles into her pillow.
"But you won't get to pick anything! What if all of them are taken?"
"Don't worry. I don't mind which one I get."
Ethan has a good memory, though. So he remembers telling her she'd better keep her word and making her pinky promise on it, and then leaps down the stairs and out the door.
This day is a day Ethan's never going to forget. From the day the Professor hands over the pokeball to him, that Ethan throws it open, and out of its depths comes a red light and a small bundle.
"That's a Cyndaquil," Professor Elm says, but Ethan's not listening.
"Hi!" he almost whispers, and his voice is lost in wonder.
The little bundle quivers slightly.
"Hi," he says again, and crouches down. He can't stop himself. He's reaching a hand out to stroke it-it's not smooth skin like he thought. It's some kind of fur, but it feels so soft under his fingers. He pets it, over and over again, the excitement that's been kept in for so long just tying knots in itself in his stomach.
Ethan feels like he can't breathe, as the moment he's been dreaming about time and again comes to pass.
That small little bundle sort of slowly uncurls itself, from a little lump to a little lump with a head, a smooth face, and teeny arms and fat legs and equally small feet. It's strangely adorable, little and tiny, and tilts its head slightly at him in wonder.
Ethan imagines he looks pretty big from such a small perspective, and is determined to make it not so scary.
Later on the road, when he's older and when he knows things and has experienced them enough to be able to recognize it, he'll know it was buddies-on-sight, because you can only really have love-on-sight in the movies and not in real life Lyra said. But for now, he's thrilled at having his very own Pokemon, his very own best buddy like Lyra has, and he can't wait to get started on his own adventure out there.
"I'm Ethan, nice to meet you!"