For the next few moments, we ate our meal in silence, simply pleased to be eating good, homemade food. I had a flood of questions in my head at this point, but I ate first, realizing that I'd have to take care of myself before doing anything else first.

"The soup is really delicious," I began when I was nearly finished eating what had been on my plate. "It's definitely out of this world... And the tea as well. Everything here was really good."

"I was experimenting with different foods," Steven explained. "It's actually something I've been doing ever since I've isolated myself here. Trying to come up with some kind of eccentric cuisine."

"You're an amateur chef?"

"You could call me that."

I looked around the kitchen, noticing how well-kept the entire room was. The granite countertops were immaculately polished, the sink was free of any stained dishes, and the kitchen cabinets made of dark chestnut wood were tidily lined next to each other. I was surprised at its orderliness.

"Of course, I have help from my Beldum and Aron often. When I'm out, Beldum helps make sure the soup stays cooking in the Crock-Pot for as long as it needs to be cooked. In the summer, Aron used to go out collecting wild Berries. Without them, I wouldn't survive alone like this."

I became softhearted hearing this; I hadn't expected to see Steven displaying his gratitude. Of course, he was a Master Champion; each and every one of us as a Champion were in huge debt to our Pokemon. Somehow, though, seeing Steven show his appreciation was moving on its own.

"In essence, they're sort of like your caretakers," I said, smiling slightly now.

"You noticed by now that this particular Beldum knows telekinesis, didn't you?" Steven indicated to Beldum, quietly whirring as it watched its Master at a distance.

"Yeah, how does it..."

"That was how we met actually. I was with my Metagross out this summer, near the Mount Coronet range, trying to develop some of its psychic powers in different ways. Then, this little guy came along and started training along beside us. It was able to master telekineses pretty quickly." Steven chuckled now, smiling to the Beldum. "It refused to go back to where it came from, though. It seemed adamant on joining me and Metagross, so I ended up taking it as one of my own Pokemon. There's a lot of promise in that little guy."

"Ah."

"On the other hand," here, Steven pointed to Aron, who was cheerfully eating away his own bowl of food set on the ground next to the kitchen wall, "This little one hatched from an egg I was given this year in early fall. I'm not sure where it was from, but the guy who gave it to me from Aulighte said it had come a long way from some faraway region."

My smile grew wider; hearing Steven's story was quite touching.

"I have to say, the Sinnoh region is perpetually mysterious. Six months living here on my own, I still can't understand this region. The electromagnetic fields are highly unusual. My Metagross in particular gains far more power here than it usually does in any other region of the world, including my native Hoenn. It's allowed a new challenge for me." Steven took a sip of his tea.

I nodded, moving my eyes away from his. "You're telling me. I was born and raised here, and there are age-old questions that still baffle my grandmother even. It's not easy to tackle the enigmas of this region. No matter how much time I devote my spare time to researching everything I can about Sinnoh, I feel as though I can't contribute anything that's revolutionary and valid."

"At the same time, I love the tranquility here," Steven went on. "Even the cities here have their own quiet air."

"Excluding Veilstone, Jubilife, Sunyshore, and Hearthome," I remarked. "Those are the only cities that get a lot of attention worldwide. Sure, there might be an episode on TV about Floaroma, or a special about Pastoria. But it's mainly the first four: Veilstone for its casinos, Jubilife because it's our capitol city, Sunyshore for its innovative technology, and Hearthome for its fashion and contests. It's a sister city to Lumiose, after all."

Steven cocked his head to the side at my mention of Hearthome, looking somewhat conflicted. I looked at him curiously, wondering what I had stirred inside him.

Then, he laughed awkwardly, pressing his forehead into a hand as he leaned into the table. I played along by holding a constrained smile

"Sorry," I said quickly, removing my smile.

"Oh, it's nothing." Steven brushed the subject off, lightly tapping the table with his knuckle again. It was as if he had grown used to my strange sense of humor. "Don't worry about it."

There was definitely something bothering him about it — it looked like he could talk about it all day until the Miltank came home. Yet, I felt that perhaps it gave him distress all the while, so it wasn't an easy subject to alter into.

Up to now, the both of us had finished eating. I mentioned to Steven about my Pokemon whom I had taken along, and he told me he'd prepare food for them in the basement within a few minutes. We both stood, starting our next line of tasks.

"You'll be staying downstairs in the living room," Steven said, pointing to its direction. "I'll help get you set up there."

I nodded. "Thanks."

The next few moments consisted of the two of us doing our own housework. I removed all of my things from the bathroom, putting my wet clothes and shoes in a basket (Beldum had conveniently sided up to me, insisting on bringing the basket to the laundry room for me). After, I took my Pokebelt and walked around to find the basement. Soon I was walking down a set of stairs from a door that led to a pleasingly remodeled basement, completed with a carpeted floor and bright lighting; Steven was waiting with prepared food. When I withdrew everyone from their Pokeballs — Garchomp, Togekiss, Glaceon and Lucario — I gave them a short summary of what had happened, and they were rather agreeable, not minding what had happened. (It was a sharp contrast to me in comparison, where I had flipped out at my ruined schedule earlier in the day.) Lucario especially seemed to be happy to see Steven once again, running over to him merrily as Steven patted him on the head; they had met on more than one occasion, and my Lucario developed a special liking to the steel-type specialist. Soon, when they had finished eating, I withdrew them back into their Pokeballs, promising them that I'd let them outside once the snowstorm had calmed down.

Coming back to the living room, I took full notice of the surroundings. His house was completely devoid of Christmas or holiday decorations; Steven probably didn't care much about the holiday season. It was refreshing to see that there were people who truly didn't give a second thought about it, especially when my own holiday season was wrecked. I didn't need to be reminded that my holidays were forever sabotaged.

The living room appeared to be an extension of a library, to which there was another entrance leading to a dark room with shelves bordering the walls. The first thing I instantly noticed in the living room was the black baby grand piano — a Steinway — placed next to the window, covered with an old curtain fabric to prevent the dust from building up. To one corner, I saw a pile of piano books, the very top reading Chopin: Piano Impromptus. Next to it were some pencils scattered loosely.

I wondered momentarily if Steven played the piano as well, or studied, it, as I had; it reminded me that I hadn't touched the piano in months. I had been so caught up in my own, tangled life that I couldn't really remember the last time I sat down and gave some time to myself.

To give you a rundown: ever since I was young, I had studied classical piano. While I always had potential talent for the piano, my passion for battling was stronger, thus I pursued it while continuing to study piano whenever time allowed it. In general, I loved classical music, as listening to classical music was similar to studying philosophy, to studying literature, to studying ancient history. There was a parallel complexity in classical music unrivaled by every other musical genre out there, I had concluded, because its own sophistication and complicatedness was astonishing, always refocusing itself to amazingly confuse the human mind. There was no other musical genre in the world like classical music.

My curiosity got the better of me; I opened to the first page of the Chopin Impromptus, and then continued flipping, finding occasional pencil marks written here and there. Some of the notes looked hesitant, with question marks marked lightly against the paper. I was almost tempted to play the second impromptu, but I was stopped short before I could think over it any further.

"I see you're at the piano," Steven said, entering the living room with a bundle of blankets and pillows, dumping them on the sofa. "You play piano, right?"

"It's a hobby," I said, looking up to him in greeting.

"I'm guessing you're pretty good at it."

I shrugged. "I don't know what you consider good. It's been a while since I've practiced. My life's been so busy, I can't quite remember when I exactly sat down at my own piano in my home."

"What's the hardest piece you've played?"

I struggled to find the answer. "That's a difficult question. Technically, the hardest I learned was Chopin's E minor piano concerto. Philosophically, Beethoven's opus 110 piano sonata."

Steven's eyes widened, apparently impressed by my response. He rubbed his head, as if he had been confronted with a difficult philosophical question.

"Like I said, though, I haven't touched the piano in months. I don't even have high expectations at myself now. I played that when I was much younger anyway."

"You're free to play it now, if you'd like."

I closed the Chopin: Impromptus. "I'll pass. It's been a long day. I just want to sleep at this point."

Steven smiled, but he didn't press me any further into playing the piano, to which I was surprisingly grateful he didn't do. I still had some interested thoughts, so I proceeded asking him a couple of questions.

"Was there any reason why you started learning?"

"It was for my own curiosity," he said, helping set up the blankets and pillows on the sofa. "It's one of my other things that I decided to try when I isolated myself here."

I nodded once, finding his answer satisfactory.

"Still, it's pretty incredible that you could play those pieces."

"What, the Chopin and the Beethoven?"

"Yeah. Who knew that one of the Master Champions of the world had a secret talent for piano, playing pieces that professional pianists perform?"

"I think it's a little... sad."

"Sad? In what way?"

I sighed. "I suppose since no one else I know appreciates my playing as much as I would hope they do, it gets scuffled under into the dust disregarded. Essentially, no one... cares."

Steven made a confused face, which somehow made me laugh. "You shouldn't dismiss it."

I sighed, finishing my last laugh. "If only that advice were easy to take."

I wish I hadn't sounded so pessimistic then. I wasn't too sure of why I was giving myself this discouraging attitude, but it didn't take me long to figure out why I felt the way I did: I felt that no one cared about me playing piano because Lance didn't care about me playing piano. In that one second, I realized that within the one year I had dated him, he never cared at all. It only struck me now how detrimental this kind of behavior was.

Of course, I kept this to myself. Steven didn't need to know about it, because if he did, I got the feeling he'd badger me about it. I didn't need to explode again.

"Sorry," I said again, "I think I really need to sleep. Otherwise, I'll get crabbier."

He shrugged, not bothered by my words, oblivious to the thoughts in my head. "Sleep is a good idea. So, these sheets and pillows are for you. If there's anything else..."

"I think I'm good now," I said. "There's nothing else I need."

There was a quick silence, but I smothered it before it could get any more awkward.

"Thanks for letting me stay. I really appreciate it, and it's really nice of you to let me stay here."

"Don't worry about it. It's the least I can do."

Another awkward moment of silence seemed to threaten us, but Steven walked out of the living room near the light switch, ready to turn it off as soon as I settled into the blankets and pillows on the sofa. But even after I had finished settling in and acknowledged he could turn it off with a quiet nod, Steven turned around one more time, facing me from his side.

"Hey," he began, "I'm sorry I was a jerk earlier, when we were walking. I was..."

I waved his apology away with a hand. "We were both cranky, in a bad mood, so no worries. I'm sorry as well. Whatever I did..."

We both felt like there was something more to say, though neither of us said anything more than we had. The awkward silence had extended.

Thankfully, Steven nodded finally and turned off the light, ready to head upstairs to his own room.

"Merry Christmas," he added, before vanishing upstairs.

Hearing this, I felt I had been hit straight to my chest; I felt ready to cry. I felt hot tears start filling up around my eyes, and I realized how much I had missed my family and Lance. Steven had done everything he could to help me, and I was grateful, but he wasn't my boyfriend. I thought I would fall asleep crying to myself, but I ended up laying there for a couple of hours, hearing some grandfather clock tick from the library.

My eyes having adjusted to the darkness, I dug for my phone, which I had thrown somewhere in my duffel. I struggled with it temporarily to see if it was still alive; it gave me some signs of life. Feeling a little more confident, I dialed Lance's number. It rang a few times, six or seven rings, before he picked up. When he did pick up, he sounded tired and drained of energy.

"Cynthia," his voice was throaty, "It's three in the morning. What is it?"

"I left you a voice message earlier tonight," I said, trying to hide any sound of hurt feelings in my voice as I sat back on the sofa. "Did you listen to it?"

"Wha? Oh, yeah. I listened to it." Lance yawned. "Sorry about that. I was busy. You know. Saffron Christmas Gala and everything. Can we talk tomorrow? I'll call you after I do the Christmas Gift Extravaganza tomorrow morning, okay?"

I was quiet for some time. Did he not care where I was at the moment? Did he forget that my train had crashed on the way to Snowpoint, leaving me stranded in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere? I had so much more to tell him anyway — I fell into a freezing river, Steven was gracious enough to let me stay at his place, and my entire family, who was patiently waiting for me at the Snowpoint Station, was now in jail.

At the same time, I realized he had a long day, a bunch of long days, and that his job as being Host of the Saffron Christmas Gala was far from over. He couldn't sympathize with me, let alone listen, to my story when he was trying to keep awake from the other line. Telling him my story wasn't worth the effort now. It would be a complete waste of time.

"Okay," I said finally. "Tomorrow, then."

That's when I heard light snoring from the other end of the line. I hung up, realizing he had fallen asleep during our phone conversation, and threw my phone to the ground as if I gave up.

There were days, I admit, where I questioned to myself if my reasons to date Lance were genuine. I often tried to go under the illusion that we completely understood each other, but there was always the nagging voice inside me saying that he was using me for something else instead of for a true romantic purpose. If anything, there were times I even thought he dated me for the sole reason of image, like he was trying to better his image to the entire face of the world by saying, "Look at me! The beautiful blonde, the Master Champion of Sinnoh, the intelligent historian-scholar-scientist-whatnot, the one and only Cynthia, is my girlfriend! She's the only one good enough for me, for my limited time that I have in my ever-busy schedule, who understands my pain that no one else in the world understands!" It was all a part of his master plan to illuminate himself... but not me. There seemed to be nothing I gained from the relationship; if I gained anything, it was the feeling of loneliness and feeling myself slowly... deteriorating... away...

I shook my head, refusing to believe my thoughts. It was three in the morning. I wasn't thinking properly. I had been swung into a day of unbelievable happenings, so of course my sense of logic was out of whack. Those negative thoughts were just a way of externalizing the pressure I had experienced throughout the day. If I slept, I would feel completely restored tomorrow. Yes, that was all I needed. I would be able to think properly after a good night's sleep for tomorrow.

I settled back into the sofa again, closing my eyes and turning my head inwardly. Only now, I was able to fall asleep far more easily, my head spinning around until I had begun sleeping.

That night, I dreamed of Steven's exotic soup and piano music.