August '12 Daily One-Shot Challenge

AUGUST 27th = Lifeless

Hello guys! Okay, before you read this, I want to warn you: I know Misty is a very independent, fiery person and she probably wouldn't become in this state simply because Ash left. However, my fingers pretty much got carried away when I wrote this, so it is OOC. I apologize in advance!

Lifeless.

Misty walked along the busy, screaming streets of Cerulean, her eyes lifeless, her soul broken, and every inch of her skin pale. Music pounded in her ears from her headphones as she absentmindedly turned a corner, red hair whipping in the wind, looking dull and drab. Everything around her seemed so unimportant. Life seemed like a hopeless walk that never ended.

Every detail, little comment, or smudge of a voice irritated her. She watched the world and their unnecessary dingy problems. Her sisters – she could no longer put up with. She had moved out and bought her own apartment. The boys that chased her – she felt like punching them in the face for using cheesy dialogues off the internet. The sympathetic looks – she wanted to wipe them off their faces.

It was always too much, but she would remain silent. Clenching her jaw. Her throat tightening. Words begging to slip. She waited for the day she would surely crack and blow up on the world – but it was not today, it hadn't been yesterday, and it definitely wouldn't be tomorrow. She would continue her walk through life, a lost soul, wanting to be held and loved like every other person on the earth.

At night, she would sleep and dream of nothing. Sometimes, beautiful brown eyes, blurry, would appear in her vision, but on very, very rare nights - good nights; and those were few.

She hadn't meant to feel this way; not at all. When he first left, she had begun busying herself with the gym, going to meetings, trying to learn as much as she could about water-Pokémon, her dream pushing her through. Very slowly though, everything started to make itself visible. The sassy comments from her sisters, constantly on her case, made her want to hurt someone. But her words, her yelling, was always ignored by laughter – and so she ceased to talk. She became silent when they were harsh to her, as arguing proved to be useless.

And everybody she talked with in Cerulean – they were so fake. They lived their lives off of someone else – money, loneliness, masks of other people – and nothing was no longer right. As she got older, her childish innocence disappeared as she realized the motives behind all the cheerful smiles and happy voices. Complaints about broken nails, a rumor, a pimple – they were so stupid and unnecessary. She couldn't even engage in a simple conversation that wasn't vacant, stiff, and awkward.

Sometimes, she would sit, driving in her car with the road passing by her and she would wonder. She would wonder how she would be if she was still out there, travelling, exploring with that one person that was alive, bursting with energy and excitement. She wondered if she would have been a different person if she was still with him.

Whenever she was feeling particularly down, right to her limits, her lips about to split from being pursed so tight – she would head over to Brock's place. The little children scrambling around in the house, albeit a bit older than before, still innocent and lively – made her smile and chin up a bit. Brock's familiar scent and girl jokes lightened her mood.

But they didn't help. They were just temporary solutions. He was the only one who could make her see the world brighter, bring back that fire in her heart – but she couldn't visit him anymore. It hurt too much; she was too scared, too nervous – too exhausted of life. Besides, he was also too busy now for her. He was constantly on the move, travelling around the world.

She knew he was the cure for her lifeless personality. She had proof. Whenever she saw him talking on the television, cracking corny jokes and smiling widely, Misty would be happy for about a full week. She would be a different person for a week, full of life, his words bringing her encouragement and desire.

But soon, the vacant stares of the people around her and their snide, judging looks took their toll. He faded; the people around her brightened – and she was dull again.

In her daydreams, she would imagine lying on the dew-sprinkled grass beside Ash, staring at the stars and making jokes among each other. In reality, she would have restless sleeps in the humidity, the car horns bonking outside her window, refusing to lend her some peace. It was the worst kind of life – but everyone around her accepted it, adapted to it, and learned to live by it.

Misty couldn't though. She wanted her past, ten-year old life back, where she was sprinting away from stupid Team Rocket, trying to catch new Pokémon, making fun of Ash Ketchum – not this busy, adult life that held no meaning.

She had accepted it, like everyone else had, but she hadn't adapted to it. She was pretty sure she never would.

And so she would walk, thinking, still as stone. She would drown out the noises of other people. She would drown out the cars. She would drown out everything and then she would listen hard: for Ash.

Sometimes, on a lucky day, she would hear him. But it was normally just her imagination. At least it brought her spirit up for a few days.

She was sick of it all. Sick of the people. Sick of the mockery and the acting. Sick of being in a state of numbness. Sick of being lost, not knowing her place in the world.

But mostly, she was just sick of being lifeless.

Epilogue

Sunlight filtered in through her open window as she walked inside, kicking off her sandals and humming a familiar tune to herself. Her eyes were vivid aquamarine, her face flushed from previous laughter, and her bright fiery hair cascading down her back in thick waves.

Shoving her key back into her purse, she walked inside, brushing her feet on the matt and enjoying the cool air-conditioning in her apartment.

Behind her, Ash Ketchum followed, walking with interest. "So, this is where ya live, huh?" he said. "A small little place."

"I like it. It's better than the gym." She said, flopping down on a couch, her eyes sparkling. He followed her actions, sprawling down on the sofa across from her. He smirked, "You seem happier than usual,"

"How would you know how happy I normally am?" Misty shot back, a smile playing on her lips.

"Dunno. Life probably sucked without me, right?" Ash joked, chuckling.

"Totally," Misty rolled her eyes. You don't know how right you are Ash Ketchum…

"So," she continued after a beat of silence. "How long can you stay?"

Ash shrugged, rolling over to face her with his gentle innocence. "Two weeks at the most. I missed you a lot."

Misty grinned at the compliment, lying on the couch, her heart fluttering and every portion of her body tingling with excitement. Her stomach turned loops as he shot her a wink and her breath started to hurry, cheeks blooming rosy red. Her whole body was consumed in sparks. For the first time in weeks – no, years – she felt alive. Not lifeless. Alive.

She ducked her face, letting her hair fall over her eyes as dread replaced her excitement.

Two weeks to feel alive.

Two weeks before she was lifeless again.

But as she met Ash's friendly brown eyes, the thought escaped her, and she decided to enjoy the moment while she could.

Two weeks was enough if it meant two weeks with him.

Eh, I didn't like the ending much but hope you enjoyed! Feel free to drop a comment!