1 - Remembering

(Author's Note: So yes, I spent a day incredibly bored in Kwik Fit, and as such returned to Pokémon, a franchise I'd abandoned age ten. And yeah, it's pretty sad and geeky, and the plot is nonexistent, but I found myself drawn to the character of N. And yeah, I'd read Lawlierlivesforever's RoyEd fic recently, and had already been working on an original character for a novel that never went anywhere. So I brought in LLF's idea about exploring the dangers of loving somebody half your age, and this was the result. I hope you like.)

My father didn't give me much before he died. He gave me my name, I suppose. He gave me those embarrassed, awkward looks whenever I tried to talk to him about feelings and emotions. He gave me my first Pokémon, an Oshawott who I later called Snow, and he gave me a few lessons on his proper use. There were half smiles, a few words of encouragement when I was battling the other kids my age and he happened to be watching. And there was the advice he gave me right before he died.

My childhood is mostly a blur; bits and pieces, scraps of memories or memories of remembering something. But my father's death, I remember clearly. It wasn't anything dramatic or sinister; he'd always had a weak heart, and one day it gave out. We sat by him for days in the hospital, praying for him to get stable, and then, when it was just me with him, he woke up, pulled himself upright, and smiled at me.

"Frost", he told me,

"I know I've not been there for you like I should have been. Too late now, really, but I thought I should say it. Fathers are supposed to teach their boys things, apparently. Well, I guess I taught you how to hold your own in a battle… but I'm not lying to myself; I know I'm going to die. So, if you'll hear it, I have a few last lessons for you, boy. A parting gift."

I don't remember saying anything, but I definitely nodded, and he closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall of the cubicle.

"I didn't do much with my life; I don't know an awful lot. But I know a few things. A few things which I advise you to do above all else. No matter what the cost is, no matter how bad things might get if you do… no matter how your life may depend upon it, promise me, Frost, that you'll tell the truth. Out of all the things that a boy can aspire to be, an honest man is the greatest of these things."

He had chuckled, deep in his throat, and looked down at his lap.

"God knows I made that mistake a few times, and you will too, but being dishonest always makes more trouble than it gets you out of."

Then I remember him sighing and intertwining his fingers.

"In matters of money, you must be forceful, but fair. If a man owes you money, make sure that he pays you back. But charity is a great virtue also; if a man who owes you money cannot pay you back because he has to support a family, or pay for his dad's treatment, or some other such reason, then let your conscience decide."

Then he had smiled fondly at me, and I remember feeling, for the first time in my whole childhood, like my father really loved me, and that he was proud of me. It was a good feeling.

"As for matter of love… My advice is to never be ashamed. I believe that there is somebody out there who has been created for you to love. It doesn't matter who they are, or if people condemn you for it, you mustn't let other people change how you feel. Love is the one thing, be it a kindness or a sin, which is always justifiable. But as I said, always be honest."

Then he leant back, shuffling down to rest his head once more upon the pillow, and took my hand in his.

"I don't know what kind of man you're going to be, Frost. But never be ashamed of that man. And know that no matter what you do, and no matter who you become… I love you, my son."

And then I remember how he died. His eyes simply closed, and the machine he was hooked up to started to beep. I remember standing up and walking out of the room. I didn't look back, but I remember mouthing a prayer for him, and thanking him for the things he told me.

Even now I think back to that day, and what he says. Because I've started to doubt. Because matters of love have occurred, and nothing he says seems to apply.

Was he right?

Can you truly ever justify loving somebody?

Many people would say that you can, and I'd agree.

But what if that person were another man?

What if he were half your age?

What if he were your king?

Because I love a man. At thirty-three years old, I have fallen in love at last.

And the man I have fallen in love with is my King. The sixteen year old boy who I am sworn to serve.

I am in love with N, the King of Team Plasma. And I am ashamed.

My father died when I was thirteen years old, leaving me to look after my mother. I gave up my ambitions as a trainer to work at a Shop, because it was a reliable source of income. Our lives weren't great, but I like to think that we got by. I worked at that same shop for years, buying and selling Potions and TM's from young, excitable trainers who didn't know what it was like to be hungry. I remember back when I started, having just turned fourteen, the innate jealousy and hatred I would feel towards them. The way they would jet around without a care in the world, whilst people like me, whose dreams were the same as theirs, had to work so that they could achieve those dreams and we couldn't. I remember thinking about the Pokémon they used; many would have six trapped in their backpacks, and I used to identify a lot with them. They were trapped in an existence they didn't choose; serving the ambitions of their trainer without question. I remember sitting on the floor of the shop on the quiet days, just scratching Snow, who had by then evolved into a magnificent Samurott, behind his ears, listening to the sound of the streets of CasteliaCity, wondering at life and how unfair it was.

That was then. I was still a kid.

I grew, though. I grew up. When you're stuck doing the same job every day, life tends to blur, and before I knew it, I was a man. I was in my twenties, and starting to understand. Life wasn't fair, but I wasn't the only person who felt as I did. There were lots of people forced into jobs like I was. Lots of people who felt the same as I did about Pokémon and their trainers.

And those people were starting to notice me.

I was twenty-one when I went on my first date with a girl; one of the trainers, a few years younger than I was, had come into the shop and apparently I looked hot. I never really saw it, but then I never really cared. Back then, when I was twenty-one… I remember that was the year I realised that I actually had hair. I think I had it in spikes back then; these huge, blue spikes that shot out in all directions. I'd started to fill out, as well; I no longer looked like a rake. Apparently girls liked that… well, this girl did. She felt the same way as I did about Pokémon, and pretty soon I had a friend. It's been over ten years since I met her, so I forget what she looked like, but I remember that her name was Amy, and she had pink hair.

We went out for a few months, and it was fun, but then she told me that she loved me. And I remember feeling terrible because I didn't feel that for her at all. In fact, I'd never felt it for anyone before. Of course it seems stupid now; I was young back then, and still finding out who I was, but I remember that I panicked. I tried to let her down gently, and I remember that somehow I made a total hash of it. She went off crying, and that was the end of that. That I can remember.

My memory has never been any good, really. Everything is a blur; disjointed images, certain phrases, a few vivid memories, like that of my father's death, but not a lot else. Names I can forget within the day, faces I can forget before that. I remember that a trainer came into my store first thing one morning, came back in at lunchtime, and I'd completely forgotten ever meeting him. I used to hate it, but now I just accept it. The things that matter, I remember. The rest can blur if it likes.

I spent years living in that blur. Years just working in that shop. My mother, the reason I took the job in the first place, died when I was twenty two, but by then I was trapped. I had no talents except Pokémon, and now I was an adult a career as a trainer was out of the question. In a way, my bond with Snow, formed out of boredom, constant companionship and necessity, was my undoing; I couldn't even consider having that with another Pokémon. That, and I was starting to hate the whole idea of being a trainer in the first place. Pokémon weren't pets. They weren't slaves. Snow was my best friend, and in the end, that was, and still is, what I feel Pokémon are truly for.

So, even though I no longer had to support my mother, I continued in my job. My shop grew popular, especially with the younger trainers. Business boomed, and I remember that, when I was twenty-four, Gym Leader Chilli from StriatonCity came and offered to advertise it.

I don't remember much about the campaign, or even about Chilli, but what I do remember is that the moment when I met him was the first time I ever felt attraction for another man. Well, attraction for anybody, really. It wasn't love, and I never thought it was, but I remember looking at him (if you asked me what he looked like now, I couldn't tell you without referring to the picture I have), and starting to blush. I remember thinking to myself,

My god… he's beautiful.

That was the start for me, really; the start of finding out who I was. Until then I'd never even considered the possibility that I might be able to feel attraction, let alone that I might be gay, but while Chilli wasn't really that important to me as a person, he was important in helping me discover more about myself.

Chilli hung around the shop for a while, with camera crews filming his adverts, trainers flocking for autographs. I remember watching in awe from my shop as he battled passing challengers; I remember admiring his skill and his usage of his Pokémon in battle. It was everything I'd wanted to be as a child. But the Pokémon were just weapons to him, despite his good intentions. He didn't realise it, but he was treating them like tools.

That week blurs just like any other when I think of it, but I remember that Chilli started flirting with me at one point. Nothing serious; just the winks, brushing me as he walked by. I think he called me sexy one time as he walked into my shop. I was completely thrown; I honestly had no idea what to do, and whole I may not remember it happening, I remember that at some point he kissed me. When I think of it, it's a total blank, but I remember seeing it on the CCTV footage that night; he'd just grabbed me head, pushed me up against a wall and kissed me.

After that, things got awkward, and when the week ended he left, which was probably for the best. Life went back to normal for the next seven years; blurry days of work, although it was probably a lot more work now that Chilli's adverts had brought in customers.

Until, for the first time in so, so long, things changed.

Two years ago, when I was thirty one, I heard about Team Plasma. It was just rumours, at first; a professor that bought a TM from my store told me about this weird new team who were stirring up feelings against Pokémon Trainers. I remember that I did some research, and found out that finally there were other people who thought like I did about Pokémon. In fact, they were a whole Team. I remember leaving the shop one day to listen to a man named Ghetsis, one of the Seven Sages of Team Plasma, talk, and his words resonated deep inside of me. He had managed to put into words what I had been trying to for my whole life until that point. I went back to my shop that night deep in thought.

Team Plasma started to use my shop, like everybody else did. They still fought with Pokémon, but they fought for their liberation, and as such, they still needed the goods I offered. I got to know a few of the rank-and-file; the grunts, as they were generally called, and eventually it got around that my store offered discounts to Team Plasma. More attention from them, which was good. I spent ages talking to them about Pokémon, and every minute I spent with them made me even more sure that I was right. That they were right.

This continued for about a month, and then my life changed completely.

I met N.

Well, I didn't know it was him at the time. I remember coming back out from my flat behind the shop, and looking over the till to see a boy of about fourteen looking around. His hair was long and green, held in place by a baseball cap, and his face… it's the only face that I can remember in perfect detail. Every angular line, every subtle curve, every hue of skin, every colour his eyes turn in the light… I can see him now, in my mind, as perfect as he was when I first met him. Of course, I didn't love him immediately; he was merely a child then. But I asked him what I could do for him, and we got talking. He was interested in Team Plasma, I told him that I was too, and then a few Trainers walked into the store.

I don't fully remember what happened, but they didn't like team Plasma, and seemed to want to hurt the boy with the green hair because he was something to do with him. They didn't even take it outside; they just threw their Poké Balls down on the ground in the middle of my shop and started a duel. There were two of them, against this kid.

N told me what happened when I failed to remember; according to him, I vaulted over the bar, and Snow ran into the middle. The Trainers had sent out a Purrloin and a Simisear, and the boy sent out a Pidove. He was hopelessly outmatched, but I remember noticing the bond he had with his Pokémon. He had a few with him, and they all loved him. It wasn't quite what I had with Snow, but it was more than just a bond between a Trainer and his Pokémon. Together, we defeated the trainers, and the boy introduced himself as N, the King of Team Plasma. And then he asked me if I would consider joining as his bodyguard.

I accepted. And now, aged thirty three, I know that this is where I was always meant to be.