Cynthia blearily opened her eyes, just to be greeted by darkness and the musty smell of soil and iron. She recollected her thoughts and tried to make sense what had just happened. The scene of mud and rock hurtling towards her flashed across, death greeting her right in the face. Her heartbeat quickened, anxiety coursing through her body and in an effort to calm herself down, Cynthia evened out her breathing. She then pinched her arm, hard enough for her to wince from the pain. Thank Arceus, she was still alive.

"Cynthia?" A voice said. It was incredibly close-by, and Cynthia's breath hitched.

"Riley?"

A sigh of relief followed. "Looks like we're trapped here."

"So it seems," she said while she tried to search for Riley's figure.

"Are you alright?" Riley asked, his voice echoing within the small space. She felt his breath incredibly close to her and she looked up.

"Um, yes!" Cynthia squeaked when she realized that Riley's torso was right above her in an almost protective stance. His back was plastered against the wall, his arms awkwardly pressed on the wall either side of her head. She could not quite see him in the darkness, but Cynthia was aware that they were somewhat too close for comfort. His chin was touching against her forehead, his chest mere inches away.

"Sorry," Riley grunted. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, it's alright," Cynthia hurriedly whispered. "It's must be really uncomfortable for you in that position."

"I can take it," Riley said. "I'm just glad that you're unhurt."

Cynthia's mind went blank for a split second before she finally mustered, "Thank you,"

Silence dropped within the small space and Cynthia held her breath as she shrunk her shoulders in. Neither said anything and the silence stayed while Cynthia shut her eyes tight, worry seeping into her.

What if, they don't make it out of here?

It's not as if she did not trust Flint. In fact, she trusted her friend and colleague a great deal. Knowing the Elite, he would swiftly seek for help and rescue them with whatever he had at his disposal. Despite how reckless he is sometimes, Flint is dependable at the most crucial of moments.

But, just what if?

The image of Steven emerged in her head and she felt her cheeks turn hot. Yet instantly, her shoulders dropped even more.

What if, they never resolved the matter?

What if, she never saw him again?

Immersed in such thoughts, Cynthia hunched over, feeling increasingly small and helpless, until Riley suddenly broke the silence.

"We might need to stay like this for a couple of hours," Riley sighed. "Unless Flint lights his own butt on fire."

At Riley's light joke, Cynthia chuckled. "Or his hair,"

"Either works," Riley grinned.

The both of them broke out into laughter, lifting the mood considerably.

"Feeling better?"

"Pardon?" Cynthia glanced up, just to be greeted by the outline of Riley's face.

"It's just," Riley said. "You felt rather melancholic just now. Too much thoughts?"

"Oh," Cynthia exclaimed. "How did you know?"

"I could sense the mood around you." Riley said in reply. "Dull and worrisome, I must say."

Cynthia smiled. "Well, thank you for cheering me up."

"No problem," Riley answered candidly. "Staying optimistic in such a situation can help a great deal. And I'm sure Flint will get us out of here."

"You trust him a lot." Cynthia remarked.

"Don't you?" Riley asked.

"Of course, I do." Cynthia agreed. "But everyone has doubts at times."

"When you're vulnerable, yes," Riley said. "Like you just now, for example."

"Are you a second Lucian?" Cynthia said, surprised.

Riley broke into a laugh. "Sadly, no."

"Well then, guess what I was thinking."

"You were thinking, what if we were to die here and never get out in time," Riley replied without missing a beat. "It's not that hard to guess."

"I suppose so,"

"It's perfectly normal," Riley assured as he shifted his foot slightly. "To think of death, that is."

"So you did think the same," Cynthia pointed out,

"I'm only human," Riley said. "Death is always close, and once it gets closer, you can't help but to be afraid. Although on the bright side, if my last moments were to be spent with Sinnoh's most beautiful lady, I can die a lot happier and luckier than many guys out there."

"Compliments won't get you out of here, Sir Riley," Cynthia said with an amused look.

"It's the truth," Riley replied. "You sorely underestimate your popularity, Ms Cynthia,"

"Popularity won't get me out of here either," Cynthia sighed exasperatedly.

"Fair enough," Riley mused. "Though I'm curious, I don't seem to hear any news of you committing to a romantic relationship?"

Cynthia paused for a moment, dumbfounded by Riley's question. A romantic relationship? The term "romantic" sounded pathetically foreign in her ears.

"Romantic?" She laughed, her thoughts spilling out. "I don't have the time for it."

"Why not?"

"Because," Cynthia hesitated for a while. "I'm the Champion."

"Now, that's not a justification," Riley commented. "That's an excuse."

Cynthia felt something in her unwittingly snap, her head feeling hot and angry. She felt attacked by his words, as if something deep within her was abruptly exposed by this unseen force.

"And what makes you think that you know me well enough to determine my reasons as excuses?" Cynthia muttered, feeling bitter. All of a sudden, Cynthia felt rather suffocated to be in the same space. The dense, unforgiving silence, the dampness of the soil, the vulnerability of the darkness around her felt so much more unpleasant.

Suddenly, Riley bent down, his face lowered to meet Cynthia eye-to-eye. Cynthia caught her breath as she noticed the glint in his eyes that enraptured her attention.

"Forgive me if I overstepped my boundaries," Riley said with a tone filled with remorse and sincerity. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Though flustered by the sudden closeness, Cynthia hurriedly shook her head.

"I've overreacted as well," She said while averting her gaze. She pursed her lips for moment, before she whispered timidly, "Did it sound like an excuse?"

"Sorry?"

"Did it sound like an excuse?" She asked again. "About me being the Champion."

"It did," Riley said without sugarcoating his words. "At least, it did to me."

"How so?"

Riley said nothing for a while and Cynthia waited for his answer as she tried to ignore the fact that he was way too close to her. She could smell his breath which was akin to the deep blue ocean freshness.

"It felt familiar...," he trailed off. "Ah, yes, the sound of it felt familiar."

"The sound of it?" She inquired.

"Because I've made plenty of excuses before too," Riley reasoned. "So many that your reason sounded similar to what I would often say in past."

"What kind of excuses did you say?" Cynthia asked, curious.

"All kinds," Riley said. "Mostly to make myself feel better and protected from situations. Well," he paused, seemingly in deep thought. After a few seconds later, he continued, "I guess a prime example would be when Byron asked me to be the Gym Leader at Oreburgh."

"Byron?" Cynthia exclaimed. "Did he personally asked you to take up the position?"

"Yes," Riley said, earning a gasp from Cynthia. From what she knew and interacted with the seasoned Gym Leader, Byron was a tough nut to crack and to impress. The fact that one of Sinnoh's most experienced and strongest Gym Leaders would ask Riley personally was testament of how highly Byron regarded Riley. More importantly, it was proof that Riley possesses considerable skills as a trainer.

"You must be pretty strong," Cynthia concluded.

"Oh, it's nothing compared to you, Champion," Riley said. "Plus, it doesn't matter anymore since I turned down the offer."

"Why?"

Riley let out a dry laugh and Cynthia could sense the heavy feelings hidden behind it.

"Self-preservation,"

That answer struck a mean chord inside her and Cynthia involuntarily clenched her fists.

"What excuse did you give?" Cynthia said slowly.

"Well," Riley breathed. "I told him that he should consider my friend over me. Because it's his son, after all."

"You mean," Cynthia bit down her lower lip. "Roark?"

Riley returned a slight nod and Cynthia fell silent, her eyes trying to make out what expression Riley was making, but to no avail. How odd. Despite how physically close they were right now, she still could not truly understand who the man is before her.

Almost like...

"Laughable, isn't it?" Riley snorted. "Giving up such an opportunity because I did not want to hurt a dear friend, it's pathetic."

"It's not," Cynthia interjected. "Don't say that."

"But," Riley began. "I was a coward,"

"And kind," Cynthia pointed out. "You could have taken up the position but you chose to prioritize your friendship. That's plenty kind."

She thought she saw him smiling, but in this darkness, she was unable to ascertain it. He shifted back a little.

"Thank you," Riley replied, his voice soft.

"You're welcome," Cynthia said.

"By the way, can I ask you something?"

"Sure,"

"How are you acquainted to Steven?"

Cynthia felt her mind go blank once again after Riley uttered his name. No, no, no. She screamed in her head. Get it together, Cynthia. Answer his question.

"I-I only know him in name," She stuttered.

A pause. A pause that was enough to suck all air out of Cynthia.

"I see,"

She sighed in relief in her head and she tried to shift the conversation away from herself, "Do you know him?"

Yet another pause that lingered within the space.

"Yes," Riley finally answered. "He's a... friend."

The odd pauses in between his reply made puzzled Cynthia, but she made no comment about it.

"How did you know him?" She asked.

"A long way back," Riley replied. "I lived in Hoenn for a period of time and studied in his trainer's school." He paused yet again. "He had quite the reputation back then. Handsome and rich. Talented, too. It's no wonder that he ended up as Champion."

"That's... interesting," Cynthia lightly commented, yet in her heart she could not help agree with Riley. Even then, she was curious. After all, she did not know who exactly was Steven Stone.

"How is he as a person?"

A stiff quietude dropped like an anchor and Cynthia felt her lungs constrict. There was definitely something going between Riley and Steven for Riley to go so dead silent, but Cynthia did not know what.

"He's...," Riley began and Cynthia braced herself.

"Honest,"

Cynthia blinked, dumbfounded by his unexpected answer. She wanted to see Riley's face and see what kind of expression he was making, but the darkness prevented her from doing so.

"Honest to a fault," Riley sighed, a sadness in his voice. "So honest that it makes me jealous."

Cynthia widened her eyes.

"I'm sorry... for lying to you."

Honest.

She closed her eyes as her heart throbbed.

Yes, he is.

"It's sad," Riley sighed.

"What is?" Cynthia asked.

"That Steven's the Champion,"

Cynthia held back a gasp.

"... Why?" She asked, carefully.

"He once told me something back then," Riley said as he adjusted himself. "I still remember it quite well. We skipped lessons that day and hid ourselves on the rooftop."

"Wow," Cynthia exclaimed. "I never would have thought that S- the Hoenn Champion would be a truant."

Riley laughed. "He had this quiet look about him, but he's actually quite the daredevil. I guess it was a rebellious phase of his to go against the people who treated him based on his looks and wealth."

Something inside Cynthia's stomach twisted and a bitter feeling rose in her chest.

"Handsome, rich, talented. Everyone around him say he would be the future Champion." He continued. "I was one of them, regretfully."

"Regretfully?"

"Yeah," Riley's voice went soft. "Because that day, he told me this: I don't want to be a Champion."

Cynthia's lips tightened, all words snatched away from her throat as she stared blankly forward at the darkness where Riley was.

"He... didn't want to be a Champion?"

"Yeah," Riley said, his tone undiscernible. "It's ironic how he became everything he did not want to be. Putting on a mask and living the lifestyle he hated."

Putting on a mask.

"That's... unfortunate," Cynthia murmured.

Cynthia sat there in silence, while Riley stayed in his own position, the conversation coming to an abrupt end. Cynthia felt time trickling past bit by bit, the musty smell in the space feeling less off-putting as she got used to her surroundings. She and Riley would make some small talk here and there, occasionally talking about myths and ruins. Thoughts about Steven would linger in her head, but she willed herself to not think too much about Riley's words.

All of a sudden, Riley groaned, his arms that was pressed against the wall slipping down. Cynthia then noticed that his breathing was getting ragged, the smell of iron was getting stronger. It was then she realized that the smell of iron did not came from the rocks around them. Alarmed, she reached her hand out towards the inky darkness. Her fingers touched Riley's cheeks and she traced them upwards to his forehead. When she made contact with a viscous liquid, she felt the dampness of the blood on her fingers and her blood chilled.

"You're bleeding!" She cried out, horrified.

Yet the man before her simply moved her hand away from his forehead. He squeezed it tight, as if trying to reassure her but it was clearly not working very well in his favor.

"I'm fine," he panted.

"I know someone who said the same thing and turned out not fine at all," she retorted.

"Are you referring to yourself?" Riley said, his voice fading in volume.

"Perceptive," Cynthia said. "But that's not the point. Where are you hurt?"

"At the left side of my head," Riley said slowly.

Cynthia felt a sense of dread growing inside her, as the scene of Riley shielding her from the rocks and stones replayed in her head.

"When you tried to protect me?" She gasped, feeling horrid and apologetic.

"It's alright," Riley assured. "I wouldn't want to let such a beautiful lady as yourself get hurt while on my island."

"I see your tongue got a whole lot sweeter with a concussion." Cynthia chuckled. "Now then, let's wrap up your wound."

She proceeded to tear off one of her shirt sleeves, disregarding Riley's disapproval. After cleanly straightening the cloth out, she looked up towards the inky darkness.

"Riley, I need you to bend down."

"Cynthia, really it's fine-!"

"I said bend down!" Cynthia commanded. "I'm not going to let an injured man stay injured."

Riley went silent, before his arms retracted back and he crouched down obediently. Cynthia wordlessly began to wrap the makeshift bandage over his head. He flinched a little from the pain as she tugged the cloth to tighten it. The process was long, considering that she was bandaging in the dark.

Upon tying the knot, she gently traced her hand around the bandage to make sure it was in place. That done, her lips bloomed into a satisfactory smile.

"Better?" She asked.

"Yeah," Riley answered with a soft grunt. "Thanks."

"You're welcome,"

They then moved onto other topics, continuing their small talks in between, not knowing exactly how much time had past. Cynthia could sense that Riley was getting tired, and soon enough, he lost his balance. Cynthia yelped in surprise as his body pressed against hers. His breathing was heavy, his arms slacked and Cynthia could sense that the awkward position he had assumed had taken a toll on his wound and body.

"I... apologize," he murmured. "I'm getting a little dizzy."

"It's fine," Cynthia said. "Just rest for now,"

"Then, I'll take up your offer," he said before he relaxed. She held her breath as she felt his hair brush past the tip of her nose, his chin rested on her shoulder. His back rose up and down and before long, his breathing eased and Cynthia sighed in relief. Soon, Riley fell asleep in her arms, and Cynthia struggled to sit upright with his weight pressed against her. The iron smell of blood lingered, while Cynthia closed her eyes. There was no difference however; darkness greeted her all the same.

Black.

The color she both hated and loved.

It's strange. Strange that she was surrounded by the color of black and how her heart did not at the least bit react to the touch of another man. Instead, the only thing in the mind was him.

He helped her.

The thought of him going out of his way to help solve her problems made her heart ticklish and she was positive that her feelings for him had only grew stronger. It was strange. She could not wait to see him again.

Yet, she did not know what to say when she sees him again.

And more importantly, she still did not know him.

The him that never wanted to be a Champion.

Soon, her sight, hearing and touch dissolved into black as she too, fell asleep. It was a dreamless sleep, with nothing in her head and it felt like eternity. It was a long dreamless nightmare of her being alone within a sea of darkness. Perhaps, for all she knew, she was dead. Dead within a collapsed cave, beneath darkness, with her feelings untold to him. It felt comforting and painful at the same time.

Comforting because she ran away, painful because she ran away.

"-thia,"

Steven?

"Cynthia!"

Her eyes snapped open, the same darkness greeting her. Her breathing quickened but a comforting pat on her shoulder calmed her down instantly.

"Sorry for waking you up," Riley said. "You were crying, so I thought you were having a nightmare."

"Crying?" Cynthia murmured, her hand touching her cheeks. Riley was right; she was crying.

"I'm fine,"

"Pretty sure I heard someone say the same thing but turned out the opposite," Riley chuckled.

"It wasn't a nightmare," Cynthia shook her head. "Rest assured, I'm fine."

Riley said nothing in response to that. She then felt him shuffle around his spot and he resumed his original position.

"Riley, you're going to tire yourself out in that position."

"No worries," Riley grunted. "I've imposed myself on you long enough."

"I don't mind," Cynthia said. A pregnant pause lingered between them for a short moment, before Riley let out a small chortle.

"You're quite sly, aren't you, Champion?"

Cynthia raised a brow, confused by Riley's words, but before she could inquire what he was trying to say, a soft rumble could be heard from the far distance. Her heart rose at the sound and she glanced up, meeting the small glint in Riley's eyes.

"Looks like Flint didn't burn his butt," Riley chuckled. "Nor his hair."

Cynthia laughed. "That's good, isn't it?"

Riley chuckled in response and his hand suddenly brushed past her shoulders.

"Say, Cynthia," He began. "Once we get out of here, can you do me a favor?"

"A favor?"

"As fellow survivors," Riley said.

"Well, if you put it that way," Cynthia chuckled. "If it is within my ability, sure."

She heard him breathe a soft sigh of relief.

"Then, could you go on a date with me?"