A.N: Holy Crap. Holy Crap. Holy Crap. It's been too long. Much too long. 'Suppose you all think I died. NYET! (- Too many Russia-centric fanfictions…) The great, ironic scheme fabricated to ensnare all of us, you know that thing called "life", yeah, well it totally kidnapped me! Fear not, the ransom (cookies :D) was paid! So here I (guiltily) stand and offer to you the next installment as a condolence for my absence!
This one… was inevitable. Technically one of the only CANNON pairing, and yet their relationship is so unstable. Somehow, it still manages to, statistically speaking, be the most popular OTP. Not mine, but a personal favorite, yes.
It was just some old storage cleaning. On a whim.
Sunday afternoons in Rustboro were always calm, a treasured abnormality from the city's usual fast-paced activity, the economy and business hub of Hoenn. He adored these weekend days, savored them and the peace they brought. Perfect for sewing or designing or napping or shopping.
Or in today's peculiar case, cleaning.
It was just some old storage cleaning. On a whim.
Dust billowed out into the neighboring atmosphere as he removed the lid of a box, clouding his vision and causing him to sneeze. The Delcatty by his side mewed something of a blessing, the Coordinator replying with chuckled gratitude.
He looked down at the now open chest in front of him, stifling a gasp as collections and tokens of his past glared up at him. Old, cyan cloth, specific measurements scrawled on crumpled notebook paper.
A photo album.
It was just some old storage cleaning. On a whim.
Teeny-bopper faces grinned at him, encased protectively behind a translucent slip. Crimson and ocean eyes met his, smiles gracing the young couple's faces. From her radiant grin, a sharpened canine could be made out and the Coordinator let out a chuckle, tracing the fang with his forefinger.
He flipped the page, lips locked in a tight line. He already knew what he would find (their faces now angled to each other, the distance diminishing between them.)
So why did he glance down at the following picture, frowning at the two teens kissing?
It was just some old storage cleaning. On a whim.
And yet liquid diamonds plopped down on the album cover. The Coordinator's shoulders shook and a Mightyena licked away the star droplets from his cheek, pressing her nose to his neck in a comforting manner.
Why had he randomly decided to file through old things? They only carried gloomy and wretched stories. No, he corrected. They were happy memories, and that's what upset him now. That he had let such happiness slip away. That he once cradled such bliss in his hands, carelessly letting it seep through the cracks in his fingers. And now that it was gone…
It wasn't on a whim. He came here every third Sunday. But Ruby had convinced the pokemon around him, (but really, if he was being honest with himself, it was he whom he was convincing) that these trips to the storage room were just random bouts of curiosity. They knew. But they would make no apparent notice.
"Just some old storage cleaning. On a whim." Ruby croaked and delicately set the album back into the box.
