Hope Springs Eternal

"Are you sure you don't want anything, Miss? A shot of our hardest liquor, perhaps?"

I laughed, my head propped up only by my hand. I knew it was rude to have your elbow on the table, especially at a classy little restaurant like this, but I was exasperated. The waiter was even offering hard liquor to me. At this classy restaurant. I had pretty much surpassed the point where anyone cared what I did now.

Pity. That was what it was. Damn pity.

"He's coming," I said for what felt like the fiftieth time tonight. It probably had been that many, maybe a few more. I assured my waiter of this every time he walked over, every time he tried to offer me food or drink. He's coming, I would say, but we both knew that he wasn't. If he was coming, he would have shown up two-and-a-half hours ago, as scheduled.

The waiter frowned at me, but he didn't say anything else before turning around and walking over to another table where an older couple sat. I eyed them covetously, watching as the man gestured for his wife to order first, the gleam in his eye so obviously love. Then, as soon as the waiter turned around, the man reached out and held his wife's hand across the table. The gesture was simple, sweet, and it made me yearn for someone to hold.

Too bad he hadn't showed up.

Again.

I believed in true love. Maybe it was naïve of me, or maybe I had just read too many old fairy tales. Either way, a potent part of me hoped that true love existed. The signs were subtle—the man holding his wife's hand, that little flicker of light in his eyes—but I wanted to believe in it. If they could find true love together, why couldn't I?

"Waiter!" I called, and my waiter came hurrying back over to me looking hopeful. "I'm ready to order."

When I made it back to my flat, Brendan was already there, standing with the doorman and laughing as though he hadn't done anything wrong. I might have been a little less angry if I had seen him and he looked sullen—but he was laughing. He didn't even know that he had made me wait for him all night. He didn't have a clue.

"Hey, May," he said when I approached, and he reached a hand around my waist and kissed the top of my head. I didn't say anything, and I avoided his gaze when he held me an arm length away to glance me over. "You look nice. To what do I owe th—oh." And then realization set in, reality hitting hard. "Oh, shit. Shit, May. I'm so sorry."

I still didn't say anything. I let him have his moment of embarrassment in front of the doorman, but this wasn't the place for a fight. Brushing past him and the doorman, I headed to the elevator, and Brendan followed. He continued to swear and apologize and sound generally guilt-ridden, but that didn't excuse him from hearing what I had to say about this night.

"May, talk to me," Brendan pleaded once we were in my flat.

I threw my purse down on the couch, spinning on my heel to face him now. Brendan was generally a fun guy. He was a little stuck up, sure, but he was free-spirited and never ran from a fight. But even he could tell that shit was about to hit the fan. The horror on his face when his eyes met mine was proof enough of that.

"I waited for you. For three hours, Brendan," I said, my tone dark but not out of control. "Do you have any idea what I was thinking that whole time? I tried calling you, and you wouldn't answer. I thought maybe you had been hurt or… or something, and then I realized, no. You just didn't show up. Again. Because you've done this before."

"May—"

"No, I'm talking," I interrupted, waggling a finger at him and then using that same hand to brush my hair out of my face. Brendan took a step away from me, his lips pressed tightly together. "I even asked you yesterday, Brendan. We discussed it. I know that maybe our two-year anniversary isn't a big deal to you, but it's a big deal to me. I just… I just don't know where to go from here, Brendan. I don't know."

It was silent for a moment as Brendan tried to decide whether he could talk or not. When he deemed it safe, he sighed, slumping down onto my couch and holding his head in his hands. "May, I'm sorry. I know we talked about dinner and stuff yesterday, and there's no excuse for forgetting. I had a lot on my plate today, is all. My dad has been making me take extra hours…"

"But the thing is, Brendan… we're supposed to make time for each other." I couldn't stop pacing around the room, a nervous habit that I had never been able to break. "This is our anniversary. It's the same day every year. I know you're busy, and I respect that. I'm busy, too. But I made plans to be with you. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Of course it does, May. You're my best friend."

I swallowed, finally freezing where I was and covering my mouth with my hands. The composure I had maintained this whole time was slowly dissipating, and my eyes began to well with tears. But I breathed again, in and out, in and out, and I managed to force the tears back. When I turned back towards Brendan, I nodded.

"Yeah, I know. You're my best friend, too," I agreed, and he smiled, thinking this was done. But I hadn't nearly begun. "But you're also my boyfriend. We make good friends, Brendan—we do, we make really good friends. But as a couple… we suck. Everything about this relationship… it's not what I expected. And it's not just my expectations that are problematic here. It's us."

Brendan raised his eyebrows, rising hesitantly from his spot on the couch. "What are you saying?"

"I'm done waiting. I gave everything to you, Brendan—stuff that means a lot to me, things that I can't take back. And I keep waiting for you to give me something back, but it's just not happening. So… I'm done." I looked him in the eye, taking in everything about him. His dark hair, his dark eyes, the curve of his muscles on his folded arms, the opening of his shirt that hinted at the refined body beneath his clothes. Things that I might miss but would forget with time. "We're done."

"May…"

"Please leave. We're over."

He didn't fight back. He didn't say anything else. He just pursed his lips once more and walked out of my apartment, shutting the door quietly behind him. And when he was gone, gone for good, I sat down in the couch where he sat, just barely warm from the brief time he was here, and cried for everything I had just lost.

"May? Are you in favor?"

I blinked, glancing up from my hands and meeting the gaze of Drake, one of the toughest trainers in Hoenn and a member of the Elite Four. He raised a single eyebrow, and I bit my lip. "Sorry," I said, and he rolled his eyes. It wasn't the first time this week that he had caught me zoning out during a meeting. "What am I in favor of, exactly?"

"Here we go again," Phoebe hissed under her breath, but obviously loud enough for me—and the rest of the people in the conference room—to hear.

"We're going through budget cuts, as you know," Steven, the current interim Champion in place of me, explained, his tone much more amicable than Phoebe's. I had always had a better relationship with Steven than with Phoebe, though, so that was to be expected. "Are you in favor of eliminating the effects in each of the Elite Four's rooms, plus the Champion's room, in order to keep the Pokémon Center in the main lobby?"

I nodded, though to be honest, I didn't really care. It wasn't like I was ever here, anyway, so it didn't matter what the place looked like. Phoebe, however, scowled, shooting me a look as she crossed her arms. Apparently, as noticeable by the way Sidney was staring at Phoebe's cleavage, appearances were a big deal to some.

"Wonderful. Are we all done?" Glacia asked, her tone coming off dry and bored. When Steven nodded, she rose quickly from the table and smiled. "See you next month, May."

I waved, just a little raise of my hand, before sighing and resting my head on the table. This had been the longest week of my life. I couldn't even think about making it through another month at this rate. Usually I enjoyed these meetings—which occurred during the last full week of every month, Monday through Friday—but now it wasn't even something to look forward to. Not with the way things were going.

"Are you okay?"

It took me a minute to realize Steven was talking to me. I picked up my head, and Steven frowned. At some point, Phoebe, Drake, and Sidney had left the room, and Steven had finished picking up all of his notes. He had always been more organized than me, hence why I had left Ever Grande City in his capable hands.

"What?" I asked, jumping to my feet and picking up my notebook—which hadn't been used at all this week, of course. "Oh, I mean, yeah. Yes, I'm fine."

Steven looked skeptical, but he shrugged. "Okay. You just seemed kind of out of it this week. I wanted to make sure nothing was going on…" He smiled then, and I couldn't help smiling back. He was one of those people who, when he smiled, everyone else just sort of followed suit. Even me during my week out of hell.

"I'm good," I assured him, a blatant lie that he would never be suspicious of—not from me, anyway. "A little tired, but I'm fine."

Steven dropped it, just as I suspected. We said our goodbyes, and he headed out ahead of me. I sighed, rubbing my temple when I knew he was gone. There was something about lying to Steven that made me feel insidious, even though the lie was benign and really had nothing to do with him. It wasn't as if I wanted him to hear why I was so out of it. He would laugh at the stupidity of it all.

I sat back down at the table, crossing my arms on it and leaning my head against them. "So stupid," I told myself, my voice muffled against the tabletop. It was me who broke up with Brendan; I didn't know why I was so upset, especially when it had been a whole week since we broke up. But it had also been a whole week since I heard his voice, felt his presence, touched his body. That was a long time for the two of us.

I didn't know how long I sat there, my head on my arms and my eyes squeezed shut. But I shot up when the door to the room opened again, and there Steven was once more, like he never even left at all. I rubbed a hand over my face as he stared at me.

"Yeah, real fine, huh?" he asked, though his tone was more amused than concerned. I rolled my eyes and stood up, grabbing my notebook and brushing past him without answering. He shouted for me, calling for me to come back, but I stomped away, my patience exhausted before it even had a chance to begin.

Steven caught my hand at the bottom of the stairs, swinging me around to face him, but I yanked my hand away. "Don't," I warned, and he held his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry."

"What do you think you're doing, anyway? Checking up on me? Making sure I left? Who are you, my dad or something?" I snapped, and he lowered his arms back to his side.

"Actually, I left my favorite pen. I must have dropped it on the floor when I left," he replied, and it was only when he wiggled it in my face that I noticed he was indeed holding a pen. I crossed my arms, swallowing out of embarrassment at my outburst. "So, you want to talk about it?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Talk about what?"

Steven shrugged, examining his pen like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. I knew he was just trying to avoid looking at me, that I had probably hurt his feelings, but here he was, acting the hero again. Like he could do anything about what had happened. Again, this was why he was the better Champion than me, why I had relinquished my power back to him.

"What's wrong, I guess," he said, glancing back up from his pen.

"I told you it's nothing." When he shot me a skeptical look, I sighed, uncrossing my arms and smacking my arms to my sides. It was rare that I preferred Phoebe's company to Steven's, but I would take hers right now if she was the other option. "I just… I just had a bad week. It's not really any of your business."

"I suppose it's not, but it's always good to talk about your problems." Steven smiled, but I scowled, not dissimilar to the way Phoebe had earlier when she had been exasperated with me. "Hey, I get it. You don't want to talk. But if you ever want to, let me know. I've been told that I'm a pretty good listener."

"Of course you have," I muttered, and Steven just laughed before walking away.

I watched as he left the building, as if he couldn't care less whether I told him or not, and I found myself running after him. When I caught up to him, he glanced over at me, but he remained silent. The two of us walked about a block together, and it was only then that I remembered we both usually flew home. So, what was I waiting for? What was he waiting for? Or where was he going?

"Do you believe in true love, Steven?" I asked before I could stop myself, but Steven still didn't say anything. He knew before I did that I had more to say. "It's just… this stupid thing, but I've just always believed in it. Like… that I would find this one guy who would just sweep me off my feet, and I would be with him forever. But recently…"

"Bad breakup?" Steven wondered, his tone completely innocuous. Here I thought he might want to make fun of me.

It turned out that I was the first one to laugh. "The worst. And I broke up with him. I shouldn't have any excuse to be angry or sad," I said, shoving one hand into my jacket pocket. "Nothing was what I expected—any of it. I didn't know what I was expecting exactly." I laughed again, shaking my head. "Something more than that, I guess. I just kept waiting for it to turn into what I wanted, and after two years, it never did."

"Wow, two years of being with a guy you didn't even like?" Steven whistled low and long, and I smacked him with my notebook. "I'm just saying. You shouldn't lower your expectations for anyone. It's good that you know what you want. I, on the other hand, have been with plenty of women who didn't know a thing about what they wanted."

"Plenty of women, huh?" I joked, and his cheeks burned pink.

"You know what I mean," he said, an excuse that everyone said whenever no one knew what they meant. But I just laughed once more, feeling better than I had all week. It was certainly the first time I had smiled and actually meant it. Maybe things would get better. This was the first step on my road to recovery.

"Sure." I winked at him, stopping where we were on the sidewalk. He spun around, walking backwards for a couple of steps before pausing. "Hey, you are a good listener, but don't let that go to your head. You're not cut out for a job as a psychologist."

"Ha ha," he muttered, but he was smiling now, too.

I grabbed a Poké Ball from my belt, clicking the center button to enlarge it. Throwing it into the air, Flygon erupted from the Ball, lowering itself to the ground in preparation to help me get on it. But before I hopped on its back, I looked back at Steven, who had continued his stroll down the street. I furrowed my eyebrows, running a hand along Flygon's back.

"Hey!" I shouted, and Steven stopped. "You didn't answer my question!"

"Which one was that?" Steven called back.

"Do you believe in true love or not, Mister I've-Been-With-Tons-of-Women?" I smiled, laughing at my own genius, but my smile vanished the second Steven replied.

"No," he said, as somber as I had ever seen him. And then he turned around and continued along his way.

"I disagree. I think that it's important to consider the safety of the trainers coming through Victory Road. If they're not ready for it, they can be seriously injured," I argued, and Glacia crossed her arms. "They might think they're ready for you guys, but the possibility that they're not is high. We should have badge checks before Victory Road for their safety."

"But that's what the waterfall is there for. They can only climb the waterfall with the help of the HM, which is only available to use after defeating the Gym Leader of Sootopolis, the strongest Gym Leader in Hoenn," Drake countered, and I nodded. "There's no point in hiring a guard to do the job that the waterfall does for free. Just because one person got injured doesn't mean we should punish everyone."

"Right, but I'm inclined to agree with May." Steven rubbed his chin, glancing over the notes in his overly organized notebook. "When was the last time we faced a challenger even remotely that—challenging? May was the last one. Perhaps the trainers who have been coming have been collecting the Sootopolis badge, maybe through type advantage, and skipping the other gyms in the region. Part of being a trainer is having the experience, tasting the whole region. Something isn't happening that should be."

I held up a finger, smiling at Steven. "Exactly."

"Well, it's the Champion and the interim Champion against us. Guess who wins," Phoebe groaned, and Sidney laughed beside her. "Even though May doesn't really have anything to do with us, seeing as she only comes to these meetings and does nothing else. But, you know, that's fair."

I blushed, the argument that I had been building for Phoebe's rebuttal feeling unsatisfactory after that low blow.

"That's not fair, Phoebe," Glacia said, and Phoebe pouted. "You know as well as the rest of us why May gave up her position—and that's not fair to Steven, either. He has always been nothing short of cooperative with all of us. This isn't a dictatorship. This discussion isn't over. Right, Steven?" She turned to Steven now, who looked just as embarrassed as I felt. "We'll continue to talk it over next time, right?"

Steven opened his mouth and cleared his throat, preparing himself to say something, but he ended up just nodding and folding his hands together. When he looked over at me, I averted my gaze, knowing well that whatever silent exchange we would have made wouldn't have helped with our embarrassment. It was better to avoid that.

"Next time," he muttered, and everyone rose from the table with the exception of Steven and me. Glacia gave us a pitying look as she passed us before walking out of the room with the rest. I sighed as soon as they were all gone, shaking my head. Just another month until the next week of meetings. They had been getting worse and worse.

"That was killer," I said, and Steven groaned.

"That sucked," he agreed.

The only good news that I had didn't feel appropriate to share now—if it ever had at all. Ever since I had talked with Steven last month, I had been feeling a lot better. In fact, I was fairly certain that I had gotten over Brendan now. When I thought of him, my heart didn't ache nearly as much as it had that first week of our break up. And thank goodness.

"You want to go out?" Steven asked suddenly, and I coughed, choking on my own spit as I inhaled just a little too sharply.

"What?" I managed to get out, but Steven didn't seem to notice my coughing fit—either that or he was purposefully ignoring it, which I actually believed was the more likely case.

"You know, like go get some food? I'm starving, and after that meeting, I need something that will get rid of my headache." He gathered all of his notebooks and files, cradling them under his arm as he rose to his feet. "Come on, you have to be hungry, too. We've been here all day. And it's on me if that's what it takes to convince you."

I laughed, jumping to my feet with about as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Steven raised his eyebrows. "I mean, if you're paying, then how can I say no?" I smiled, and Steven rolled his eyes. "I'm going to warn you, though: I'm starved."

After that, it turned into our monthly ritual that the two of us go out to dinner together on the Friday after our long week of meetings with the Elite Four. Some weeks were better than others, as it had always been, but we went out to eat to relax, anyway. I always offered to split the tab with him—or, since he had paid the first time, pay entirely—but he waved me off, saying it was the chivalrous thing to do to pay for a lady.

"But," I informed him when he told me that, "chivalry is dead."

He responded, "Says the girl who believes in true love."

I dropped it after that. Besides, it was only once a month that we did this, and the bill for the two of us wasn't outrageous. So, I let him act the hero, covering the tab just because it made him feel good. But as the months went on, I couldn't help feeling a little guilty about it. Still, I never brought it up again—but only because of his ego.

I didn't know what this was slowly turning into. I began to look forward to our next dinner together even before the two of us had gone our separate ways after the current one. During the meetings, I found myself meeting his gaze every few minutes, and he would smile at me before looking away. But I would keep staring, feeling suddenly overwhelmed just by that smile. And even during the month-long break between our meetings, he popped up in my head every once in awhile.

But it wasn't until I got a call from good-ol' Phoebe that I realized exactly what everyone else thought we were doing.

"So," she said, skipping the introduction when I picked up my phone. "What have you and Steven been doing after meetings, anyway?"

"Phoebe?" I asked, even though I was fairly certain that it was she who was on the other end.

"Don't even bother denying it. We've all been talking about it—me and Glacia and Sidney and Drake, I mean," she continued, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Phoebe wasn't one to hold back on anything, but even this seemed a bit extreme to me. There was being forward, and then there was being forward. "So, are you and Steven together now or what?"

"Uh, no," I said hesitantly, "not that it's any of your business."

She laughed on the other end, the phone crackling in my ear just from the volume. "Oh, okay." She laughed again, and it was obvious that she didn't believe me. "Well, we were just wondering. As coworkers, we just want to make sure that there isn't an, um, unfair advantage or whatever. You know what I mean?"

I sighed. "No."

Phoebe giggled again. "You're too funny, May. I'll see you in a couple of weeks!" The line clicked, and she was gone. Just like that, as if she hadn't even called at all. I sat down on my couch, holding my phone in my hand and staring at it. Had that actually just happened? Had Phoebe actually just called and said all that?

As I sat there holding my phone, replaying that whole conversation back in my head, I kept thinking of Steven and wondering if maybe Drake or Sidney had called him—Sidney, probably. But what had they said to him? The same thing?

I dialed Steven's number before I thought much about it, and when it began ringing, my finger lingered over the END button. But the line clicked, and Steven's voice greeted my ears before I could end the call, and I was forced to say something. I didn't know why I even called—what was I supposed to say?

"Hey, it's me," I said, and then I rolled my eyes in spite of myself. "May."

"Oh," Steven replied, and for a second I thought he was disappointed to hear from me. Man, I was stupid. "What's up?"

"Um, nothing." I smacked a hand against my face. I was amazing… could I be any more of a loser? "Well, I was just wondering… did Sidney call you today? Or Drake, maybe? Because Phoebe called me, so I… I was curious, is all."

Steven coughed, sounding distant from the speaker. Then, I could hear some shuffling on his end. "Nah," he finally replied, his voice coming in clear again. "Why, should I have heard something? Did something happen?"

"No, no, everything's fine." I bit my lip, wondering why I called him in the first place. He was probably wondering the same thing. I couldn't say I blamed him. But as I thought about that, thinking that maybe he didn't want to hear my voice anymore, I felt an ache in my heart, so similar to the one I felt when I broke up with Brendan. And I needed closure. "Listen, do you… I… well, do you want to go out with me tonight? To this, um… just this little diner by my house—it's nothing fancy or anything."

Steven didn't even need a second to think about it, apparently, since he replied, "Sure," without any hesitation. "What time?"

"Well, I mean, the thing is, Steven… I wanted it to be kind of like… I mean, we've gone out to dinner a lot, but… I just…" I stopped myself, curling my free hand into a fist. If I was going to do this, I just needed to spit it out. It wasn't like I hadn't been disappointed in my love life before. "A date. I want this to be a date."

"Yeah, but what time do you want to go?"

I blinked, holding the phone away from my ear to make sure that he was still the one on the other end. Sure enough, my screen still read Steven, 1:06, and still counting. 1:07, 1:08, 1:09. I just stood there as the time increased, staring at my screen. Did he actually just agree to go out with me? Like, on a date?

"May?"

"Seven. Meet me at the Slaking Diner just outside of Petalburg at seven."

"You know, diner food is always way better than anything you can get at those fancy restaurants down in Sootopolis. Have you ever been to one of those? The food sucks, but they charge an arm and a leg for it," Steven told me, walking close to me as we strolled back towards my house. I bumped my arm against his, but I didn't jump away like I normally would have.

"And you can't get breakfast for dinner at classy places like that," I pointed out, and Steven laughed. We had both gotten crepes and eggs, a personal favorite of mine that I had assured him was the best plate of breakfast foods he would ever have. "Fancy restaurants are overrated. Greasy diners with even greasier food are the way to go."

With my arm up against his, I could feel his whole body shake as he chuckled again. When he stopped, he looked down at me with a grin. I searched his eyes for a minute before looking forward again, shoving my hands in my pockets. We walked together in silence for a moment, just a moment, and then he broke it.

"So, why do you care so much about the whole 'true love' thing?" he asked, using his fingers to put air quotes around my favorite phrase. "Not that I'm judging, but you don't strike me as a fairy tale fan girl."

"I'm going to tell you a secret, but don't tell anyone," I told him, lowering my voice. He stared at me, his eyes wide. "I was obsessed with fairy tales when I was little."

"No!" Steven cried, and I giggled.

"Yep." I nodded, trying to regain my composure. "But in all seriousness, I don't see why anyone wouldn't want to believe in true love. I mean… if there was one person on Earth who you were supposed to be with, wouldn't you want that? Wouldn't you want that person? Why settle for someone else when you could have the one you were meant to be with?"

Steven didn't say anything. Maybe I had said too much—he, after all, didn't believe in true love like I did. I didn't know why, and perhaps I would never find out. But it was true what I said: I wanted to be with the person with whom I was meant to be. Apparently it hadn't been Brendan. I didn't know who it was, but I would find out. Someday.

"That's a good point," Steven finally said. "But I still don't believe in it."

Now I held my tongue, trying to think up reasons why Steven wouldn't believe in something so simple—at least in the scheme of things—and beautiful. Had he been hurt in the past by one of the women he had dated? Had he lost hope in his years, just six more than my own, and given up the search? What had happened?

"Steven…" I began, but as I saw my house coming up, I stopped my thought and switched to another. "This is it. My place. Thanks for walking me back."

"You're welcome. Thank you for dinner—although," he smiled, stopping and facing me once we reached my stoop, "since this was a real date and all, you should have let me pay for it. You took away all the fun of a first date, you know. For someone who loves fairy tales and true love and all that, you're not very traditional, are you?"

I crossed my arms, leaning in towards him and crinkling my nose. "Very funny. I did have a good time, though."

"As always," Steven agreed, his face coming closer to mine. And then, like the softest touch, his lips met mine. He held me for a moment, his hand at the back of my neck, before standing up straight again and smiling down at me. I raised a hand to my lips, brushing my fingers along them as I stared up at the silver-haired man.

"Steven," I began, but he bounced down my steps before I could pull him back.

Once he hit my sidewalk, he turned around and waved at me. "Let's do this again soon. I'll call you."

It was all I could do to nod. When he sent out his Skarmory and flew away, I stood where I was on my stoop, watching him get smaller in the sky until I couldn't see him at all. The whole time I kept my fingers to my lips, as if this simple gesture would remind me what had just happened. But the beating of my heart was proof enough for me.

Eventually, we couldn't hide what we were from the Elite Four anymore. Phoebe had suspected us from day one, even before day one, and we let slip that we were—albeit casually—dating. Steven and I. Dating. A couple. No matter how we said it, the two of us were together more often than not, kissing and holding hands.

The months passed, one leading into two leading into three and four and five, until we had been together for six months. I hadn't felt so happy in a long time, even when I had been with Brendan. There was something about being with Steven, something so uplifting, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. It was just different.

"Different?" he had asked when I told him this, but he didn't quite understand. Neither did I. "Good or bad?"

"Good, of course," I assured him, and he left it at that. But I wanted to know what felt so different about us. Maybe it was the age—six years wasn't so many, but it was enough to make it feel like he knew more of the world than I did. And he did. When I had traveled as a preteen, he had already reached maturity. Now, I was just catching up. Maybe that was that—Brendan never had quite reached it.

I didn't talk with Steven about it again, but like I avoided the subject of true love like the plague now. I didn't want to bring it up now that we were dating, now that there was a possibility of my expectations not being met—but that negative thinking got to me more than anything, and that was why I avoided it.

Maybe that was why Steven didn't believe in it. I was perfectly content with Steven, so even if he wasn't my true love, why would I give him up?

But now, as we cuddled on my couch watching one of my favorite fairy tale movies of all time, I couldn't ignore the thoughts. Why I had agreed to this movie, I didn't know. Steven had asked, and I had said yes. Holding him, I thought I might be okay. But as we sat watching it, nearing the end when the prince and princess found each other again, I couldn't handle it.

So when my phone rang, I jumped up from the couch and ran to it. Seeing the caller, though, I didn't know what to do.

"I have to take this," I told Steven, and he frowned.

"You'll miss the end."

"I've seen it a hundred times. I practically have it memorized," I assured him, and he shrugged. I pressed the call button and glued the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

I hurried out of the room, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. "May, hi," Brendan greeted, and I put a hand over my heart. Nothing. No change. After all this time, he wanted to talk again? I hadn't heard from him since I broke up with him a year ago. "Do you want to tell me what's been going on?"

I furrowed my eyebrows, sitting down on my counter. "Huh?"

"You and Steven Stone?" he demanded, and I pulled the phone away from my ear. "My dad heard from your dad that you were dating him. Steven Stone, I mean. Is that true? You really weren't going to call and let me know? I thought I was your best friend, May. What happened to that, huh? You forgot or something?"

"What?" I pulled the phone closer to my face again, trying to keep my voice calm. "You've got to be kidding me, Brendan. What does it matter who I'm dating? You haven't talked to me for a year, and you call now to tell me that you don't approve of my choice? As if you have any authority over that. Geez, Brendan."

Brendan breathed in sharply on the other end, and I pictured him pacing around his room. The whole maturity thing still hadn't really caught up with him. "So, it's true?"

"I'm hanging up now, Brendan."

"It's true?" he shouted, as if somehow that would make me stop. It did. My finger hovered over the END button, and I pulled the phone back up to my ear once again.

"We're just messing around," I said, and the phone clicked. Brendan, in my stead, had hung up on me. I cradled the phone in my lap, closing my eyes and holding my hands to my face. Yeah, May, I thought. That was the best way to handle that situation. Go ahead and tell your ex-boyfriend that you're just messing around with another man. That will end well.

After a minute or two, I emerged from the bathroom. The credits were rolling on the television, the volume all but depleted. When I sat back down on the couch next to Steven, he didn't put his arm around me like he usually did. He sat rigid, his eyes fixated on the screen, and when I glanced at him, he didn't look back.

"So, this is what we're doing?" he asked, and I furrowed my eyebrows. "Just messing around?"

Shit.

"Steven…" I began, hoping he would interrupt me to say something else. That was what was supposed to happen. It always did in the movies. But he just continued to stare at the television, at those scrolling credits, without interrupting me. "Of course not. That was Brendan calling, and he was just annoying me, so I said what I knew would shut him up."

He laughed without amusement, his voice dry. "Yeah, of course that would."

"I didn't mean it." I reached for his arm, but I stopped myself before I touched him. "I know I should have told him the truth, but I know Brendan. He was always kind of a jealous boyfriend, even though he never showed up for anything and usually treated me more like a friend than a girlfriend. Apparently he hasn't really gotten over everything. Telling him the truth would have just made things worse."

"Well, what is the truth?" Steven asked, and I shook my head, not completely understanding what he meant. Now, I noticed, he didn't seem angry with me—just a little disappointed and, if I wasn't mistaken, hurt. Of course I had hurt his feelings. "About us? What would you have told him if you were to tell him the truth?"

"I would've… told him…" I paused. Was now the time, in the middle of a pseudo-fight? Now or never, I decided. "That I love you. Imagine how angry that would've made him."

This got Steven's attention. His eyes shot to mine, shock lighting all the features of his face, his eyes glowing as silver as his hair. Then, his face relaxed, his widened eyes returning to their normal almond shape. A small smile formed on his lips, so subtle that it was barely there at all. But when he looked back at the screen, the corners of his lips were upturned more visibly.

"Pretty angry, I guess," he joked, and I smiled. There it was. It wasn't the answer I wanted exactly—a response to my admission would have been nice, but I had a feeling he was still recovering from my phone call with Brendan—but it was something positive, at least. "I don't know if that's worse than 'messing around', though."

I pulled my legs up on the couch, sitting up on my knees and facing Steven. He turned his head back towards me, his body shifting slightly, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Then let's make him really angry," I suggested, leaning my forehead against his, the tip of my nose brushing his. "How about—"

And then he kissed me, cutting me off and pulling my body on top of his. He stretched out across the couch, his legs dangling off the end, and I knelt above him, my legs and arms straddling either side of him. One of his hands found my way into my hair, weaving through it like it was a maze to be explored. His other hand lingered just below my chest, unmoving.

"Steven," I whispered when his lips left mine, moving down to my jawbone, and then my ear, and then my neck. "Are you—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his mouth covering mine once again.

His hand moved from my hair to the hem of my shirt, and he pulled it over my head. I lifted my head from his, and it was off. I worked on his next, moving my hands under his shirt and feeling his skin beneath my fingers. It was warm, soft, but firm in its muscle tone.

And then it was just my skin against his.

"For the record," he whispered, his voice broken and ragged, "I love you, too."

And then he kissed me again.

In a year, I felt closer to Steven than I had ever felt with anyone else. But the thing was—and I didn't know why I couldn't get past this—I didn't think he was The One. My True Love. Whatever I felt when I was with Steven, which was indeed love, just didn't seem to reach my expectations still. This made me wonder how I could have ever survived two years with Brendan.

I didn't get it. Steven was the epitome of Prince Charming. He had started off as just a friend, but he had saved me in more ways than one. With just the two of us, I never felt more admired or loved, and he actually showed up on time every time. When we were together, it was something beautiful, and I was happy.

So, why did my expectations remain unmet?

I couldn't help but think about what he told me: You shouldn't lower your expectations for anyone. It's good that you know what you want. But the thing was, I didn't know what I wanted at all. I had these expectations that were so high that no one seemed to meet them, but I didn't know who was supposed to.

The One. My True Love. He was supposed to meet them.

The next time I saw Steven, I broke up with him. A year gone, just like my two years with Brendan. All of my hope that I would find true love was slowly fading away, not nearly as eternal as I thought it might be. And all of the happiness I thought I might find by waiting for true love was not nearly as potent as I thought it might be. In fact, it might not have existed at all.

I didn't see Steven again until the next meeting at Ever Grande. I considered calling out sick for the whole week, but I knew that was cowardly. But I didn't know why I cared about being cowardly—I was already ignoring all of his calls, refusing to answer the door when he rang at my house, purposefully staying indoors when I knew he was near. Skipping the meetings would just add to my plate of cowardice.

The room fell silent when I walked in. The entire Elite Four plus Steven had already arrived, and any gossip that they had been catching up on died out when I entered. Phoebe's eyes darted between Steven and me, her lips pursed as she tried to make sense of what had happened. When I took my normal seat beside Steven, I avoided everyone's gazes.

"Hi," I muttered, just to break the silence. Sidney coughed.

Glacia rose to her feet, the ever decisive one. "Why don't we give you two a moment? I would like to have a meeting without this crazy sexual tension devouring the whole thing, hmm?" She smiled at me, but I couldn't say I returned it. Instead, I gaped at her, my cheeks blazing. I couldn't believe she just said that.

Drake was the first to rise after her, and Sidney and Phoebe followed quickly after. Steven rubbed his temples, his eyes on the table as they shut the door behind them.

We sat in silence for a minute, and I twiddled my thumbs, focusing on them because I couldn't very well focus on Steven. But eventually he cleared his throat, and our eyes met. Disappointment and hurt again, but there was still no anger etched into his skin. There never was. I was much better at disappointing people than making them angry.

"Look," I began, and Steven held up a hand.

"Why'd you do it? I thought you were happy. If there was anything the matter, you could've told me. I thought we could talk about our problems?" he asked, and I frowned. Allowing him to get a word in was a lot tougher than I thought it would be. When I broke up with him, I kind of just spit it out and then ran for it. He had been too busy calling my name to ask me any questions.

I twiddled my thumbs again, my heart beating now out of nervousness rather than life. I didn't feel alive right now. "This is going to sound really stupid," I said, and even without looking up I could tell he was rolling his eyes. "But… it's not you, it's me. No… it's us—but because of me. I just… I just had to go."

"Because of true love, right?" Steven sounded annoyed, and if my cheeks weren't already red, they certainly were now. "I didn't meet your expectations. But the thing is, May… your expectations are for someone who doesn't even exist. You're waiting for a fairy tale character, not a real person. No one is coming for you. But me—May, I loved you. I still do."

I bit my lip, forcing myself to hold back tears. "How do you know? You don't even believe," I accused, and he sighed.

"The thing about fairy tales… if that's true love, then of course I don't believe in it," Steven told me, and I swallowed. Was I about to find out, after all this time, why he didn't believe in true love? "The couples in those stories… they couldn't possibly be in love with each other. They're in love with the idea of each other. I want to get to know someone. I want to love her for her. That doesn't happen in the fairy tales."

My eyes shot back up to his, and the two of us sat looking at each other, our breathing the only sound in the room. I blinked a few times, shaking my head as what he said sunk in. I thought of every story I had ever heard, every tale I had ever read, every scene I had ever watched. There were two people made for each other, true love, everything they ever wanted. Everything that I always hoped for.

But he was right; they didn't know each other. Not the way Steven and I knew each other.

"Maybe true love doesn't exist, but I'm pretty sure we belong together, May," Steven continued, his hand coming on top of my hands to stop me from twiddling. "Nothing about life is as perfect as it is in stories—and nothing about any relationship is, either." When I still didn't say anything, he squeezed my hands. "I once told you that you shouldn't lower your expectations—but sometimes they change."

Everything that had happened… it hadn't been a waste. It was all to teach me a lesson, to help me find what I wanted and who I wanted. Life had these little ways of setting us on a course and throwing some fast curves at us—and once we made it around those turns, we could see what was ahead. Maybe these were it.

"I'm sorry, Steven," I said, jumping up from my seat and leaning across the table to kiss him. He held my face in his hands, and when I pulled away from him, he smiled. "I'm so, so sorry. I was such an idiot. You were right in front of me this whole time. Do you think maybe we could try this again?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he replied, his lips hovering just millimeters above mine. Then, turning his head to the side, he looked towards the door. I had almost forgotten that the Elite Four was still here. But how could I forget Phoebe's attitude and Glacia's omniscience. "Do you think we should let them back in now?"

Crossing my arms and sitting back in my seat, I laughed. "This sexual tension might be a bit much for them."

"Better make this meeting fast then." Steven rose to his feet, opening the door and leaning into the hallway. He called the Elite Four back into the room, and everyone—with the exception of Phoebe—sauntered into the room hesitantly. I didn't know which they were thinking: that Steven and I would start fighting in the middle of the meeting or that we might rip each other's clothes off. Phoebe was obviously looking for the latter.

There was something about hoping for the impossible—that was the only way it could ever be eternal. But who wanted to hope that long? I would rather hope for something possible, something close, than for what I could never have.

And maybe I had everything I ever needed. But only forever would tell that tale.

Author's Note: Oh my God. I can't believe I just wrote that one scene. I'm, like… the most innocent and naïve person on the face of the planet. It wasn't even that bad, but it was for me because I'm me, and omigod.

Literally every single fanfiction I write featuring Steven is a bazillion words long. Well, maybe not literally, but close. And I have no idea why I'm so obsessed with Steven right now. Maybe because I just really want a Ruby/Sapphire remake (who's with me?), and this is my way of building support?

God, if this is my way of building support, it will never happen. I have scarred the innocent world of Pokémon.