disclaimer: i don't own anything.
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"and in the streets you run a-free
like it's only you and me"
The two of them, young and curious trainers, were collecting wood for the campfire. They left Brock, who was preparing a dinner of potato stew and rice, and traveled deep into the surrounding forest. Ash and Misty found a hidden pond, a group of docile wooper swimming in and out of the murky water.
Immediately, Misty takes off her shoes and puts her feet in, throwing all the wood she collected to the side.
"Misty…" he groans, visibly annoyed. "Come on! I'm hungry."
She ignores Ash's protests and nuzzles Togepi in her arms, taking a step farther into the cold water. Pikachu tries to join them, almost jumping from Ash's shoulder before his trainer grabbed him by the stomach with his free hand.
"Don't even think about it—"
Misty smiles, the soft glow of the sun setting in the sky reflected in her eyes. She peacefully admires the glistening water, kicking her feet up in a splash, her hands petting the rocky bottom. He feels foolish watching her, almost bashful. He turns away in a pout, telling himself the heat traveling to his face was because he was annoyed and nothing else.
"Ow, crap—"
In a flash, Ash drops his wood and rushes over to her. Misty limps out of the pond, her scream scaring off the wooper.
He shouts, "What happened?!"
"Nothing, nothing…" she says between clenched teeth, limping past him. "Let's just get back to Brock."
Ash grips her arm before she had the chance to put her shoes back on. His attention immediately goes to her foot.
"Ash, it's not a big deal, I just stepped on a stupid rock."
"You're bleeding…" He drawls, voice low, and amber eyes dripping with concern.
Lifting her leg, he sees a red pool at the bottom of her foot. She winces, clutching togepi close to her chest.
Ash glances at her face then her leg again, saying nothing as he dropped all the firewood. He turns his back towards her, crouching down as Pikachu crawled to the top of his cap.
"Come on."
"…What?"
Ash doesn't face her. She takes note of how unusually pink the tips of his ears looked. "I'll carry you back to the campsite. Let's go before it gets dark."
Misty just blinked at his unexpected offer and gesture, cocking her head in slight confusion. When has his voice ever been so firm?
She tries to step forward and winces as the pain from the gash pulsed with the first step. He is by her side before she could even blink, allowing her arm to rest on his shoulder.
"Please let me take you back to camp before you bleed out."
Togepi is placed in her bag by Ash before she could even refuse, and he positions himself right in front of her, waiting for her to just jump on already. So, after breaking down her pride, she does.
Misty pouts, her face exploding into a burst of color as she squirmed and settled herself to be carried by piggyback. Ash may have been shorter, but he stood up easily, holding Misty upright.
It felt awkward. It felt embarrassing. But above all else, it felt undeniably warm.
Her arms wrap around Ash's neck, their cheeks pressing together.
His eyes widen when he feels her edge closer, close enough that he can hear her breathing—his heart, its weight and livelihood, shifts in an unrecognizable feeling. He adjusts their position, her body close to his back, and climbs up the forest path in heavy silence.
Eventually, they make it back to camp in one-piece. Brock buzzes around Misty with bandages, chiding her for being so careless. She sits on a log, wincing as Brock applies icy liquid to her heel. Misty looks up at Ash, preparing a thank you only to find that he was already heading down the same path, going to retrieve the abandoned firewood and her sneakers.
His figure is distant, but she can make it out.
She screams out his name and a heartfelt thank you. Ash doesn't turn around; he lifts his hand in a wave and runs away into the dark.
. . .
Ash was one rational thought away from jumping off the roof right after her. He almost reached—his finger an inch away from her hand. The motion of Misty falling into the dark flashed before him as quickly as his stomach plummeted. In an instant, Ash goes to her, not even wasting time thinking of the worst possible outcome.
No broken necks or concussions. No broken bones.
Shouting her name and a fragment of curse words over and over, his voice drips with fear. He dives out his front door to the side of his house. His mind sober but body trying to regain composure.
He finds her a groaning mess. Misty is nestled into the bush as the rose thorns pinching her skin. Ash sees blood dripping down her arms and legs; Ash feels his hands shake.
Sobered up from picturing Misty break her neck, Ash does his best to not yell or twitch when approaching her body calmly. Mindful not to overcrowd her, Ash gets on her level and gently moves the thorns away from her skin.
Misty sucks in a sharp breath. "Stop," she whispers, a low groan escaping her lips as she was conscious.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Ash repeats, internally giddy that there was still life to her.
The leader moves jaggedly, lifting her head and arms as if she was a zombie.
"Hold up! What if you twist something?"
Her nose flares, eyes sharp yet cloudy. "I'll twist your arm off if you don't help me out of here." The words come out like a flurry of slurs. Salvia sounding thick in the mouth. Ash knows she is not belligerent, but she wasn't anything close to sober.
He scratches his hand against the bush to reach under her body to lift her. He stumbles slightly but manages to hold her as he squatted on the ground. Misty hisses, her face twitching at the pain. Ash catches redness on her neck.
"You're bleeding." His eyes twitch as he watches a droplet of blood drip down her neck.
Misty wrinkles her nose and reaches for the back of her head. "Ah shit," she curses under her breath, raising her fingers tinted with blood, vibrant and new. The lump in his throat drops to his stomach at the sight.
"—Hospital, okay? We're going."
Misty groan. "Isn't it far?"
"There is an ER about twenty minutes south from here." Ash lifts her, keeping his legs strong and sturdy. Misty's head reels at the motion but she manages to keep her hand on the scrape.
At the bite of her lips and tears swelling of her eyes, Ash knew it had to be painful.
Managing to open the door and making past the threshold of his home, he kicks the thought of his mom yelling at him for not looking at the front door out of his mind. Currently, he was grateful for the door being opened. It made this situation a lot easier.
"Pika pi?" A sleepy Pikachu lifts his head and squints at the trainers.
"Hi buddy," he replies, his voice uneasy. Pikachu huddles to Ash's side but maintains distance out of concern.
His hands on her skin, covered and scraped by the rose thrones, made her wince every other step he took. Ash's insides twist at the whimpers coming from her. He was starting to sweat as he carefully put her on the couch, and he spoke of a game plan.
"Bags, towel, um—"
"Our bottle of whiskey." Eyes narrow, he gives her a look from the kitchen as he fumbles through the drawers in search of a towel. "What? Wait until we get thirsty."
Pikachu jumps to her side and sniffs at her head. The yellow one's eyes drop, eyes watery, and nose twitching. Pikachu goes under Misty's hand, into her lap.
Ash's brain pounded as he comes from behind her and gently moves her hair to find a deep gash on the back of her head. The strands of tangerine around the cut tinged and wet with red. He sucks in a deep breath as he presses the clean towel on top of it and aligns her hand to hold it in place. "Add pressure to it okay?"
He tries to remember that he is a trainer. He tries to remember that things like this happen all the time out on the road. He tries to remember that bruising and blood and the experience of jumping off cliffs were normal to him. He tries to remember that things like this happen during adventure but none of it helps the shaking of his hands and nerves surfacing.
Ash could feel the bile rising in his throat at the realization that they had no way to even get to the ER. His mother walked everywhere or carpooled with neighbors. All she had to do was ring Prof. Oak and he was there within minutes. There was always Oak. Which meant, there was always Oak's red corvette.
Ash goes scurries to the family videophone. It rings for the Oak lab.
"Shit—" No one picked up at the lab. "I can't remember Gary's cellphone number."
"My bag. Upstairs. It has my phone." She cranes her neck.
He rushes and returns, fiddling with it in his hands. "It's locked, Misty. Why do you even need your phone locked?!"
"Creepy fanboys.
"Misty!"
"0025."
"Okay that's random—" He taps against the screen.
"Pikachu's dex number."
Ash's heart flutters a little at the casualty of her answer but purses his lips together as he listened to the ringing.
"Hi, Red. Miss me?"
Ash retracts his head from the cellphone and gives Misty a look. "Red, huh?"
Misty snorts as she dips her fingers and scratches Pikachu at the side of his neck.
"It's Ash, Gary. Are you in Pallet?"
"Ashy, hi. Why are you breathing so heavy? You with Misty?"
"Are you in Pallet?!"
"Jubilife City. I'm a guest lecturer tomorrow at the university. What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I just need a car or a ride and you're not here and Tracey is with the professor and my mom isn't here and Misty is bleeding—"
"Ash, slow down. What did you say?"
He lets out a shallow breath. "We were on the roof and Misty fell into mom's rosebush. She's bleeding and I need to help her—"
Misty hums a tune with the back of her throat, her head swaying.
"What?! What do you mean bleeding?"
"Blood coming from her head bleeding!" Ash hisses. "Aren't you supposed to be smart?"
"Okay rude," Ash growls into the wasn't any time for this. "Make sure you apply a clean cloth for now. Don't remove the cloth a lot, blood clotting comes off that way. As long as Misty doesn't pass out or feel weak, you should be fine. I know gramps isn't home and he definitely took the corvette to the getaway with your mom—"
"Stop."
"There has to be some car you can borrow around town. Just calm down. I'm surprised she even managed to make a dent on that hard head of hers—"
"She would kick your ass for that one."
"Oh, I hope she does. You'll get her to the ER, Ash. I wish I could be there to help but I'll call you soon to check-in, okay?"
"Is Gary still talking?" Misty asks, groaning.
"I heard that, Red. Tell her I wish I could kiss her booboo better for her."
Ash sighs and blushes at Gary's tone.
"Bye Gary."
"Bye Ashy."
Ash sucks at his teeth. He turns, noticing Misty's head limp to the side. Pikachu trying his best to give support with the top of his head. "Misty! No!" Rushing to her side, Ash carefully holds her up. "Please stay awake! We will be out of here soon, I promise." He starts to smack her cheeks back and forth, gentle but quick enough that he got some response out of her. She twists her mouth and moves, moaning, but she mostly wants to dig herself deeper into the couch cushion.
Misty slowly opens her eyes. They were bloodshot and hazy like dull sea glass. "Naptime," she whines.
"No naptime." If she wasn't bleeding profusely from her skull, Ash would've been laughing at her disoriented self. It was like watching an angry baby wake up after a good sleep.
"Stop moving please, Ash."
"I'm moving?"
"Yeah. You're doing jumping jacks. It makes me want to puke."
"Oh jeez okay. What about we get you to the ER and if you're going to puke, you're going to let me know, please? A little warning."
"No promises," she says in a way that makes Ash want to get a bucket.
Gary is in Sinnoh stealing the science community's heart or whatever. His mom (who would be pissed in the first place) and Prof. Oak were hours away from Pallet. Tracey was with the professor. They took the car. His mom didn't have a—
Wait.
Yes, they did have a car. It just wasn't his mom's.
. . .
The single lightbulb hanging from the roof sparks. Hidden in the back of the old shed, sat a dusty deep green pickup truck. Its windows were crusted with a layer of dirt. Ash grabs a towel from the shelf and rubs away at it, holding back the floodgate that was the memory of his father.
His dad and his old stitched jeans. A jean pocket that always had a pocketknife and a dirty old' rag. The way his aftershave smelled of pine and how pretty the color of the bottle was to Ash as a kid. A caramel brown. Almost as pretty as his mom's hair color. How his dad's stubble felt against the side of his face. Kisses from his dad. How easily he would be lifted in the air by him.
How quickly it all ended when he left it all behind. He even left his beloved truck behind. The image of his dad wiping down the daily grime from the metal at the end of a workday flashes as a bitter-tasting memory. The way Ash sat in the corner playing with whatever thrift shop toy his dad bought him that month. The joy of listening to his dad whistle and tinker.
Ash retracts his hand from the window in a jolt. He pauses and sucks at his teeth. He goes back to circling the towel at the glass with a heavy hand. He would have to actually see if he was going to drive this metal monstrosity. If he could even get it to start. His mom didn't seem to use it one bit if the rust and dust was any indication, it looked dry and—
All out of gas, he internally curses. In a panic, Ash looks around the old shed, finding a red jug covered in splatters of white paint. "Yes!" The trainer lifts it, hears the liquid shake in the plastic container. He awkwardly dips the spurt to the gas tank, pouring in till every drop was done.
The keys were on a hook by the shed door. Untouched for years.
Ash grabs them on the way out before running inside to get Misty and Pikachu. He enters to find Misty, still on the couch, giggling at Pikachu playing charades in front of her as an attempt to keep her alert. Ash rushes upstairs to grab his wallet from his bag and zips downstairs. He grabs Misty's bag. "Alright, let's go."
"Hm?" Misty makes a noise as Ash kneeled his back to her. "Try swinging your legs over and hold onto my neck, Misty. Be careful not to drop your towel."
Ash scoots her legs on his hip as she loosely wraps an arm around his neck. Hoisting her up against his back, he lifts and manages to keep balance. Pikachu follows, careful not to step in front of his trainer.
They safely make it out of the back door. He walks slowly in the dark. Misty's head falls right on Ash's shoulder. Cheek to cheek, he rubs his face against hers. "Stay awake, okay?"
"Mhm." She murmurs into his skin. He shivers at the warmth.
The uneven beat in his chest was familiar. Excitement and fear resounding in his heart. A recognizable feeling reminiscent of the hot sting from the first sip of tea on the tongue.
Then he feels Misty tug at his cheek. "Ow! Are you pinching me?"
"No," she snorts the lie and blurts out a bubbly laugh. Her mind must've been rattled.
Pikachu chirps and jumps onto the door of the car. "Pikachu pi?"
"Alright Mist," Ash adjusts her, his hands on her thighs. "You gotta get in the car."
Carefully, he lets go of her legs and she unwraps herself from his neck. Wobbling backward, Ash turns and catches her by the shoulders. Holding the towel to her injury, Misty reaches for Ash and steadies herself on his chest. "This. Is. Embarrassing." She whines and drops the cloth from her head; her forehead knocks against Ash's pec.
He is just at her height, the amazon she is, but with her bending her knees he can catch the top of her head. Her hair ruffled and wild, flecks of red through the strands. "The fact you were clumsy enough to fall from the roof?"
"Be nice!" A smack to his arm.
Ash's lips curl slightly. "I'm sorry—" A loud inhale. "I'm kind of trying not to freak outright."
Eyelashes flutter up at him. "Wanna switch places?"
"Gladly," he admits, moving to open the passenger door and throwing her bag at the truck floor. "I'd rather be the one bleeding from my skull."
She looks like she wants to say something but twitches her nose in irritation. Her face scrunched together in discomfort. He moves and holds her hand as she climbs in, slightly off-balanced. Shutting the door behind her, the rust flakes flake off. Ash bites his lip in worry. "Let's go Pikachu."
Pikachu followed right behind him as Ash settled himself in the front seat. The truck had a bench seat and a steering wheel as big as a large frying pan.
From his pocket, he pulls out the key and after a deep breath, inserts it into the ignition barrel.
"Since when do you drive?" Misty questions, eyeing Ash with a cloudy expression.
"I don't."
He's had little lessons here and there. Meyer showed Clemont, Serena, and him a few tips and tricks but Ash only got behind the wheel a couple of times. Those times were fun with all their squeals on the open road but now he felt like he was going to vomit out a vital organ. The engine sputters. Ash tries again as he bit his bottom lip. The engine roars despite his doubts. The headlights blink and shed a bright hue.
Ash sighs out of relief.
There isn't much to understand but the rattling of the truck mixed with beads of sweating forming from Ash's palms is proof that he drove the truck out of the old shed and past his house. He doesn't understand how he is even driving but miraculously, he hasn't swerved off the dirt path yet. The road is dark, rocks, and dust crunch under the truck tires, but he quickly turns on the static-y radio to calm his nerves. A folksong begins to play. It's unrecognizable by name but Ash can imagine his mother playing it late at night while working on her needlework. Pikachu sits in between Ash and Misty on high alert, his black eyes tracking both of them.
He hunches over, both hands on the steering wheel. "How do people even drive at night?"
Misty answers with a groan and a soft pet to Pikachu's back.
"—Don't fall asleep."
"I'm not," she argues, her voice sounding like it went through a dirty filter. "There is blood running down my neck and it's ew and wet like, I want to focus on anything else." It was more like a Sensational Sister was describing a bad date, not Misty describing her dripping wound.
"You need a distraction? I can play the music higher—"
"Please, Ash. Just drive. K?"
What does k mean? Ash's attention leaves the road and turns to Misty reaching for her bag at her feet, fishing for something. Pulling out a lighter and a carton of cigarettes, she releases a deep sigh and plucks a cigarette from the white and gold box.
Ash almost plunges the car into a ditch on the side of the roads.
"Misty, you are not going to smoke right now." His nostrils flare. "You never even told me—!" A pause, carefully lowering his voice to not strain her ears or cause a headache. In a whisper, he reiterates, "You never told me that…you do that."
The trench between them is wider than he expected. There are things he doesn't know about, things she fails to tell him. It's as if she tells him only about the things she thinks he wants to hear. He continues, explaining his life and his journey. A life of adventure and unlimited paths far more exciting than paperwork and baby trainers getting snotty over failing to win her badge. Guilt seeps into him.
They were all shallow things. The whiskey shots, kissing boys and smoking cigarettes. They weren't part of their friendship—they didn't make Misty up. She was still undeniably Misty, but selfishly, he considers all those things proof of how disconnected he was to the idea that Misty has grown beyond the image of her that is kept blazing in his memory.
Leaning against the door, she manually lowers the window and leans herself away from him and Pikachu. "Only when I'm stressed."
He couldn't taste the whiskey on his tongue anymore nor feel the weight of it on his senses but watching as she basked in the moonlight, lit cigarette hanging from her chapped mouth, his mind went null. The lighter clicks, a flame dances, and Misty's relieved moan as she inhales the tobacco deeply makes Ash's mouth water. He may be side-eyeing smoking but something carnal in him wants to taste it. He wonders if it fills your lungs as harshly as the ashy smoke that a torkoal spouts from its shell. Yet again, Misty makes it look serene until a cough puffs out her mouth.
Smoke escapes the window moving truck as the alit end of the cigarette slightly bounces at every other bump on the road. The red end fading in and out slowly as Misty took a drag. Pikachu also seems to bounce at every other bump on the road. There is little trace of the smell as Misty sits as far as possible from him and Pikachu.
He recognizes the signs that flash by and his shoulders loosen up. The direction as correct, all he had to turn was make a right and head northbound. The tall light posts were scarce but lit up the road just enough. They'll be okay; they just need to make it past the large siphon. Once at the siphon, make a left and there is the old' town hospital. The night is a blur.
"How are you feeling?"
Misty snorts and laughs at the question. "I just—I just can't believe this is where the night is ending up." She flicks her free hand outside of the window, the cigarette burnt out by the air. "At least Pikachu is doing a good job driving."
"I'm driving. Me. Ash. Not Pikachu."
"Pikaaaaa." A tiny yellow paw smack's Ash's thigh.
"Oh right," her tone dry. Another laugh sputters out of her. Her arm reached far out the window and cut through the air in wave-like motions. "Thank you for driving. I know it's scary."
"Not as scary as seeing you fall." Ash wets the bottom of his lips at the hard but still image of her limp neck and her limps draped over the rose bush like a forgotten doll.
"I know the feeling. You've scared me plenty."
Swallowing, he holds on hand on the stirring wheel and the other scratching the side of his face. It was true and she has said in the past after near-death experiences or random accidents but now, it was him feeling this relentless pull in his gut. It was her on his mind and how hard it was to focus on anything else but her. He notices the thorns still caught in her skin but there he is, too scared to rip out in case he does it utterly wrong. Or, he could already see the fresh bruises forming on her thighs and arms; the soreness she should expect tomorrow. Ash spots the messy knots in her hair. The tears that collected at the corner of her inner eyes, the whites of her sea glass eyes red-lined and wet, every time she accidentally jabs a finger into the gash.
His heart seizes inside his chest, rattling against his ribcage as loudly as the truck engine sputtered. Well, that's how it felt to Ash when he pictured Misty with a broken neck. He was afraid to admit it, but there was a moment he thought she wouldn't wake up. Then came a panic living—no, festering inside him. Guilt ate away as it sunk in that he shamelessly let her feel this way before. This was far different than Brock catching a bad cold or Iris getting seasick or Serena tripping and scraping her knee. He was concerned during those times too, but this held weight to it. The unshakingly feeling of worry wasn't rare for Ash but it surfaces rampantly when Misty, who handles everything like a shield handles a hit from a sword, gets hurt.
From the corner of his eyes, he sees her feel the wind and trace the route the moon took as it "appeared" to be following the car. Catching his breath, as the image of Misty peering out the window and up at the midnight blue sky the night before the Whirl Cup tournament flashed before him. The moon was almost full. The ocean breeze entered their room and brushed against Misty. She opened the window, welcoming the night and the possibility of tomorrow's adventures. They were younger and his memory is fuzzy at best but Ash remembers how he felt her excitement bubbled within him. Misty touched by moonlight. Misty smiling softly. Ash's throat dry and he couldn't find the right words to say, but he didn't mind, he just looked at her. He remembers how light he felt back then. It felt weird but a good weird. A 'trying a new but strange-looking ice cream flavor but finding yourself liking it kind' of weird. Maybe he felt kind of sweaty and nervous, but it was also light and warm and good. And then a couple of months later, she was gone. Brock was gone. Ash steadfast to Hoenn.
Then it was Sinnoh and then Unova and then Kalos and now he is back driving on these roads where the fields don't change, the houses stay the same, and the shops are owned by a family for generations. Roads he outgrew the minute he accepted the gym challenge.
He was older now. So was Misty.
They were no longer just newbies starting their journeys. No more fumbling over maps and failing to throw poke balls. Time passed, they'd lost something and Ash was trying to understand that. But Misty seems to get it. She accepts it. No matter the glass whiskey bottle and the crushed carton of cigarettes, Ash saw it in the way her lashes fluttered when Will's voice cracked at the sight of her. It was the way she carried herself through Pallet, her shoulders straight and head high, legs light as they sway with each step. She had a grace that reminded him of the way the performers entered the stage during a showcase but different. Like each flick of her wrist held intent and poise, every tilt of her hip. Then she opens her mouth and venom spits, or a strong laugh falls out. Her voice is deeper and smoother than he was used to. On the rooftop, when Misty told him to consider Serena's feelings, he felt like he was a ten-year-old again blubbering over spilled milk. The confidence, the consideration for someone's feelings, someone she didn't even know—it uprooted something in him. Insecurity, maybe? It stung like insecurity.
Like she knew something about life that he didn't. Ash wants to ask her why he isn't strong enough to look at her for long, or enough to breathe, and how does her heartbeat go—does it hammer like his? He is afraid to ask. The questions stuck and saturated on his tongue. Whatever she knew about life, he wanted to learn.
Listening to Misty shuffle in her seat, watching her cross her legs; brown eyes tracing bare thigh. Shocked at the shivers that run down his spine, Ash lightly groans as the sense of mortification begins to take over.
She flinches at the sound, turning her attention to him. Misty blinking stares are practically stabbing at his skin. Ash's face burns and he almost considers slamming his forehead against the stirring wheel.
Instead, he makes a left at the turn right near the rusted siphon. A slight but certain cast of light shines in the dark, hidden behind long lines of shrubbery and trees. Pikachu jumps for the spot near Ash's headrest and flops his ears to the side as he thumped his head against Ash's. Pikachu and the art of telling his trainer, "It's okay!"
Drowsiness evident in her expression, Ash manages to loosen his arm enough to shake Misty up enough for her not to fall asleep. "We're almost there, look!"
Peering at the light, slightly brighter than before, Misty lets out a ghastly-like groan. "—I am going to puke as soon as we get there."
Ash jolts. "I can pull over!" A pause. "Honestly, you can puke in the seats in you want but it might be gross for you—"
"No, I can make it but your driving, has me feeling like I'm sort of in some fast spaceship. Not a roller coaster but a spaceship."
Feeling slightly less mortified, Ash raises his brow and makes a taunting face and laughs out, "And you know what it's like to even be on a spaceship?" Out of all the questions to ask, questions that sizzled in his mind, he chooses to shift to spaceships and her critique of his driving skills.
"It's all zoom, not all sharp turns and loops, Ash. There is a difference."
He makes a mental note of his zooming as her eyes narrow at him. "You speed up when you're distracted, like when you were staring." Pikachu's ears twitch and mouth softens into an o-shape.
His stomach stirs at her tone of certainty. "Staring at what?" He plays dumb.
Misty's knowing smile is more of a smirk. Ash considers driving off-road in embarrassment—luckily for them, he spots their destination. The light coming from the emergency center is sharp but not quite blinding as Ash pulled into the parking lot. Failing to turn into space, Ash tries again and curses at himself for bombing the second attempt. "Aaah!" This time he does slam his forehead against the stirring wheel. "Misty, go ahead, I don't know how to work this dumb thing and—"
"It's okay," she manages, adjusting herself to face him properly. "I'll wait until we park. I want to go walk in together."
Ash breathes in deeply, biting his lip as he concentrates on turning in at the right angle and parking straight enough that there was enough space for them to get out. Once in, Ash internally shouts a thank Arceus before turning off the engine and stuffing the keys in his pocket.
With Pikachu on his shoulder, Ash crawls out and shuts the door behind him as he went to the passenger seat side to meet Misty. She climbs out of the truck, managing not to trip. Ash reaches for Misty's hand as they walked to the entrance of the emergency room connected by a firm, attentive grasp. The old neon sign shouting EMERGENCY and asphalt under their feet.
They rush in past the sliding doors into a still room. Empty, ugly brown patterned chairs to the side except for two people. A woman with a fierce cough and a man scratching at what looks like the rash that comes after being in contact with a poison sting. The room is cold, the lights warm, and the faint scent of bleach alive in the air.
He feels Misty squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.
They go to sign in. The person behind the check-in desk was sipping on her coffee, not realizing the two eighteen-year-olds stood there feeling like kids in timeout.
Ash coughs, clearly annoyed. The woman looks up, points at the sign-in sheet, and hands over a clipboard full of documents to fill out. "You don't seem to be dying so you're third in line. Go have a seat."
"Thanks…" they reply simultaneously, exchanging glances.
They find their seats. Pikachu jumps from Ash's shoulder and curls on the chair beside him, careful not to get in any injured person's way. Pikachu eyes the room. With realization, the two friends separate and unhinged their hands. Ash flexes his hand, sweaty but warm. "I don't blame her," Misty offers, her voice deep. "I'd be so done with people if I worked the night shift at a place like this."
Misty has the clipboard in her lap but looks down at it like it nauseated her. "Here let me fill it out for you." Taking it from her, he reads the usual questions. Name. Address. Date of birth. Blood type.
The smile is slight and sleepy but it's still her smile. "Thanks, Ash."
He clicks the pen. "Okay, so allergies—"
"Bug pokemon. Carrots."
"Allergies, not things you unfairly don't like."
"Peppers," she finishes, her voice strained.
Ash catches her wince, immediately he moves her hair with the tips of his fingers. She lifts the blood-soaked cloth and he sees the gash clearly, not that wide and not very deep but still, painful to look at. Luckily, the bleeding has subsided.
He tilts his head to get a better look, careful to avoid touching anything sensitive as fingers graze her neck to move any loose hairs away from the cut. Misty sucks in a short, faint breath.
"I'm sorry—"
"No," she waves her hand. "You didn't do anything. I just feel lightheaded."
"I'll go get someone." She holds him down by the arm in refusal, putting her head onto his shoulder. Ash opens his mouth to say something, but she waves him off. "Not sleeping, just resting my eyes."
"It's not smart to lay your head anywhere you should keep it upright, Misty!"
She yawns, settling comfortably on his shoulder. "You can move it if you want."
Like he was going to do something like that. He clicks his tongue at her, his face burning as he tries to remember the address to her gym and if she still got a rash from whenever she ate pineapple.
Ash reads Misty Williams in his blocky handwriting and swallows the lump hanging in his throat.
"I'm sorry." She whispers beside him.
He slightly turns, peering at her. Eyelids downward, her lashes longer than he remembered.
"For what?"
"I'm sorry that you had to drive your dad's stupid truck to get us here. And that I made you worry and that I smell like a bar." She pauses. "I'm sorry that we have to be here now," she says with a grip to his forearm, pressing close for a final drowsy whisper. "I wish we were at home."
The pull at his gut tugs again. How was it her fault she fell off, his heart plunging faster than she did? Swallowed by the roses and their thorns. He's grateful that his mom was sentimental enough not to take a bat to the truck and give the metal junk away. The relief that washed over him when she woke up, broken but breathing, was indescribable.
As much as Ash hates seeing her in pain, or that he couldn't do more, but despite it all, he doesn't regret anything about tonight.
The uncertainty of any moment worth living might leave you broken, betrayed, hurt, or forgotten; pleasure and pain of being alive. There are times where you have to say good-bye to people that matter to you, whether it ends on a bittersweet crossroad or with a kiss from someone, honey-colored and sweet, that ends with them descending to their next step, leaving you to go on to yours. There are times where you must sit on the roof with someone you love, fumbling over words, and counting stars as you recount your memories together through a drunken lens. There are times where you must fall. Other times you pick someone up. Those are the risks of moments worth living, moments you are going want to want to relive when the years go on. For Ash, his day spent with Misty, was full of those moments.
He puts a hand over hers. "Y-you only smell a little bit like a bar."
Silence. Her response is an exhale—not even a giggle.
"Misty?"
"Pikachu pi?"
She is slumped against him. Her hand falls from his forearm, the cloth falls to her shoulder.
Ash carefully lifts himself, shaking as he places a hand on either side of Misty's face to keep her head straight. Her cheeks were burning. "Misty?" He chokes out, tears welling up.
"Hey!" Ash's heart lurches out of his throat. "Help! We need help!" His rasps echo. There was barely a stirring coming from the front desk. Ash whips his head, glaring at the lack of movement. "HEY! SHE NEEDS HELP!" His screams sting his throat.
It all goes fast. The wheelchair pulls in and someone in scrubs is talking to him. Ash hears someone murmur substantial blood loss and blunt trauma and vitals but the words are drowned out by his inner monologue and stifled noise as he watches Misty rolled to the other side of some wooden doors, taken away from him. Blood matted and head slumped, chest heaving up and down.
He steps forward to follow but is stopped by another person in scrubs. They look apologetic when they lock him out, arms pushing him away. He tries again but is blocked again, leaving Ash to stand and wait, a nail caught between his teeth under a yellow light. His gaze doesn't shift until he sees her, from a tiny window in the door, disappear into a hall. Alone with strangers.
Ash doesn't move. It takes Pikachu to jump into his arms to bring him back to Earth. "Pika pi…Pikachu pi."
"Huh?" He makes a strained noise, blinking, and slowly senses Pikachu pat the side of his face with a tiny paw. Ash pets the top of his partner's head. He finds it a bit hard to breathe despite Pikachu's attempts at reassurance.
Finally, he looks away as his shoulders shake, and bottom lip bruised from all the biting, Ash shuts his red-lined eyes and curses at his stupid heart for convincing himself there was nothing to regret.
. . .
Inside was suffocating.
He sits in the back of the truck. The low humming of bug pokémon in the distance. Looking up at the dome that was the sky, how it almost appeared like a dark blue blanket, littered with holes of varying sizes and brightness, was going to drape across the planet. It is the same night sky, but Ash's throat heaves at the difference: he felt limitless sitting on the roof, taking in the universe but here, his back against icy metal as he fought against tears, he felt useless.
Pikachu on his stomach, curled and comforted by his trainer's body heat. It was way past his partner's bedtime.
It felt like hours ago when they took Misty away. Ash is glad they did, no he was grateful they did and others were around to help but—
He blinks back the tears, saltiness clouding his vision and cooling the heat of his hot skin. Tears falling down the side of his temple, Ash forces out a brash yell of frustration, kicking out the pent-up energy in his legs and slamming a fist to the inside of the truck bed.
But what could Ash even do? He would only be in everyone's way. Head trauma is dangerous and all he wanted to know if she is okay. To not see her, to not have her within reach, hurt. He understood empathy but this—
This hurt was different. His hurt came in the tilt of a skull, the cracking of bone. Her fallen face, a milky pale that was stark to her usual peachy tan. A shrill cry then a faint voice.
"No," he whispers under his breath, his fist unclenched. "Come on, Pikachu."
Ash kicks himself up, a sleepy Pikachu already on his arm and surges towards the dimming light. He trips before the entrance but pulls through, smacking and hurling himself past the front door, evading the front desk and crossing into unknown territory as the wooden doors slammed shut behind him. Eyes unflinching as they shout after him, a sharp turn around the corner and he found nothing, but empty rooms filled with chairs and cotton balls, until he found her tucked away surrounded by two medical professionals in coats.
Full of eagerness, he stumbles forward and catches his breath.
"—Misty!"
She turns swiftly at the sound of his approach.
"Ash," she says strong, awake and standing, holding onto the shoulder of one of the nurses. Bandages wrapped around her arms and thighs.
The pulse in his ear that followed his every step subsides as she breathes, as she talks to them, assuring that he was her friend. She was okay. There is a stillness between them, eyes attached, and he feels slightly awkward at how hard he was staring.
Misty's eyes leave him as they discuss with hurt further on the dos and don'ts of staple care. Ash hears shampooing and daily fresh bandages as Pikachu noses his cheek.
"Why don't you let your friend guide you back to the car?" The staff member suggests, walking Misty to Ash's side. "Be mindful of the checklist we provided as well as sleeping. You should watch out for any signs of concussion, such as dilated pupils or trouble walking. Wait a while before going to sleep, coffee usually helps. Not ours though. Our coffee sucks."
His colleague slaps him on the shoulder then gives Misty a warm but smile. "You're all set to go home. Make sure the front desk has all your information." A pause. The staff member turns to Ash. "Also don't be shocked if you get a scalpel in your eye the next time you randomly rush into a private room, kid."
Ash makes a sulking face. "Got it."
Misty, bags under her eyes apparent under the lightning, gently gestures to the door. "Coffee?"
. . .
"Grinds first then water?" Ash trips over himself as he waves his mom's canister of grounded coffee. Cerulean coffee. Brock's favorite.
Misty practically drips the entire cup of water into her mouth at once. "Order doesn't matter," she tells him, popping two extra-strength ibuprofen. "I gotta get out of these clothes."
"Do you need help?"
Misty quirks her brow, "With undressing?"
Ash's cheeks burn. "Get out of the kitchen."
"Yeah, yeah."
Once she leaves, he hits his head against the counter. Listening to the coffee pot boil and spout, he takes a deep breath. They survived two car trips. Ash managed to park the metal monstrosity with only tearing up in frustration a normal amount. They made it back home safely. Both of them barely willing to even discuss their night, finding solace in the casual dips of conversation between their silence.
Ash's mind and body were barely functioning at this point if it were not his beating heart and nervous system bringing his blood vessels to pump and widen, flooding his skin with reddish color.
Clemont explained it once to him like that. How things like blushing, as strange as it looked, are ignited by emotional currents that trigger a response from the nervous system. The way Serena's face burst into a rose as Bonnie poked her sides wearing her usual cheeky grin.
It happens to him and he feels betrayed by human biology. The memory of hands together and warm skin making him feel hot.
Misty comes down freshened up in an oversized blue t-shirt and cotton shorts, her socks scrunched at her ankles, and skin with a slight sheen, like she didn't apply her face lotion properly. She yawns as she walks towards the counter, leaning against it as she waited for the coffee pot to stop. "Can you reach the mugs?"
"If I'm on my tippy toes."
He barely catches a glimpse of her teeth showing through the amused smile. Ash grabs two mugs and some creamer from the fridge. And sugar. He needed sugar, and he knew Misty liked things sweet yet again, he wasn't up to date on her tastes.
Which didn't bother him that much.
The machine spurts, he pours the dark roast into two mugs, only slightly spilling on the second try. He mixes in the sugar and creamer and takes the mugs to the living room, passing Misty's attempt at grabbing the mug for him. "I can carry it, Ash."
"I know."
He sits them down on the living room table. Pikachu was sleeping soundly since they got there, finding his spot on the comfy chair in the corner on top of a cushion.
"I'll be right back."
Misty nods, curling her fingers around the ceramic mug and blowing on the steam.
His head snaps, biting the inside of his cheek and rushing upstairs to the bathroom. He runs the sink. He grabs a bar of soap and runs his hands under the cold water, scrubbing the suds on his face and neck till all the build-up of sweat and dirt returned to the drain.
Grabbing a towel, he wipes his face and heads to his room, throwing his clothes off and changing into whatever he could get his hands on. He rummages through his drawers, finding some worn sweats and a white t-shirt with a surfing pikachu on it. It brought good memories.
He returns to find her huddled on the couch, wrapped in a handwoven blanket his mom made the summer he cracked his front two baby teeth and had to get them removed. And then there was his mom's old worn olive-green couch. Spilled barely tea stains and familiar. The lights off and a three-wick candle burns. Lavender and fresh linen scent drift throughout the living room.
Ash hesitates, unsure whether to join her but then she lifts the blanket, expecting him to sit on the other side. So, he joins her. How could he ever second guess joining her?
She throws the blanket on his legs. They are on opposite sides, legs curled beside each other like a yin-yang sign.
He reaches for his mug, hands instantly warm and his thumb jutted awkwardly; singeing his tongue while drinking hastily. She looks up from her mug at the sharp hissed that escaped his mouth. "It's hot."
He sticks his tongue out, airing it. "I knowah."
Snorting at him, she shakes her head and takes another sip.
The wick cracks. His eyelids are heavy. He relaxes at the warmth.
"You should go to sleep."
"Hm?" He blinks.
"I want to stay up a little bit more just to make sure nothing weird happens but you should sleep."
"I'm staying up with you, I already decided."
"Since when?"
"Since coffee. I can't believe you drink this stuff regularly."
"But you like it?"
He smiles. "I do, kind of."
She taps her fingers against the ceramic. "So, tomorrow I'm heading back to the gym."
Without missing a beat, Ash adds, "I know, I'm going with you."
"Since when?"
He pauses. "Since…now."
She looks at her coffee, lashes inky in the dark. Carefully, she leans the side of her head against the sofa cushion. Luckily, no pressure against her injury that was more towards the lower back of her scalp. "You really will find any way to get into a gym."
"Says the gym leader."
A comfortable silence follows until Misty's eyes darted to his face.
"…We're taking the bus, right?"
"Oh, absolutely we're taking the bus."
Tucked in a blanket they shared, caught in the blue hour that shifted from deep blue to a lighter cyan they wait for the sunrise.
. . .
Time does not exist in the Pallet Town bus station. It was seven o'clock in the morning but you can't tell when you're at the Pallet Town bus station. There are town elders playing cheese and drinking soju outside the Pallet Town bus station. There are wild ratatta circling passengers waiting for them to drop crumbs before boarding the bus.
Pikachu nibbles on some leppa-berry-flavored cookies as Misty downs a sugary vanilla iced latte from the vending machine. Ash sticks with some water. They wanted to wait till eating until Cerulean out of fear of missing the bus and despite the pulsing headache and poor vision, Ash managed to water some of his mom's indoor plants before heading out in a hurry. They managed to make it on time despite feeling like zombies on the walkover. Luckily, it was only twenty minutes from his house.
Nothing was said or asked during the walkover. The silence was comfortable and reminiscent of how they would all spend the first few minutes in the morning yawning and picking boogers out their eyes quietly except for the occasional chirp from the forest. The sunbeams burned their eyes, so they looked ahead, kicking pebbles as they paced themselves. Misty, still weak, kept up but still was a step or two behind Ash. For a split second, for a moment, he almost reached for her hand but then his hands were in his pockets, his lips chapped from all the nervous biting. Embarrassment flushed across him when he realized he can't just do something like that because he wants to.
He knows there are some rules to things like that.
The bus pulls up and honks loudly, startling Pikachu. "Pika-ah"
Ash pets his partner behind the ears. "It's okay!"
Misty turns to him. "I guess that's our cue to get in line."
Ash nods, cradling Pikachu in his arms.
Walking towards the bus, there barely is a line. Ash spots a young trainer anxiously fumbling with what looks to be a gym badge case. There are a pair of gossiping aunties in the back, discussing the department store sales they were preparing for.
They board the bus and take their seats. Misty gets the window and stuffs her backpack under her chair. "Be honest," she says, cracking her fingers and trying to stretch her legs, "we look like shit don't we?"
They did. They really did.
Ash adjusts his cap on his head. "I think I feel like shit more than I look like shit."
Misty lets out a large sigh, dragging the skin under her eyes downward. "My eyebags have eyebags."
He presses his face into his hands, "Brock would be so disappointed we left the house like this." Lifting his head, his eyes begin to water as he yawned. Misty yawns with him.
He remembers that he packed the perfect thing. From his backpack, he pulls out a smallish but fluffy pillow. Ash places it between their heads, right above their shoulders. Misty practically melts at the softness. "Ash, you're a genius."
"That's a first."
"Both a genius and a dumbass. You're like nobody else I know."
"Yeah, yeah," Ash hides his amusement behind a gruff sounding voice. "Don't get booboo blood on the pillow."
"Pika-pi!" Pikachu taps Ash's cheek with his paw before circling onto his lap.
"No promises."
The bus was barely on the road before sleep took over them. Their heads an inch apart, able to catch the little sounds and hitches of breath.
Ash wakes up to Pikachu tapping his wet nose on the side of his repeatedly. Was it the next day? Where even was he?
He blinks his eyes open to see flowers and canals of water outside the window. They made it to Cerulean.
"Misty," he says, "I think we're here."
Carefully, Misty lifts her head, blinking at Ash like he was some bright light. "Already? Wow."
They watch the scenery change to light brick buildings and a roaring farmers market. Misty frowns. "We're missing the farmer's market," she gasps, forehead against the window.
Ash frown is not as large as Misty's but still noticeable. "That kind of sounds nice."
"It's so nice. The fresh juice is delicious! Ughhh." She groans, watching tragically as they drove past the market onto the street that leads to the gym.
"Maybe next time," he offers.
Her spirit lifts at the suggestion. "A day in Cerulean doesn't sound too bad right?"
The bus stops right in front of the Cerulean City Gym. Ash grabs Pikachu and Misty follows, walking down the aisle. Ash's mouth drops as he steps out of the door.
"As long as I get to see your—"
There isn't a dewgong. Why wasn't there a giant dewgong?
"Gym!"
She pushes him forward and out of the door. Stepping out, he takes a step back and a good look. It was half dome, half geometric triangles overlooking the top. Colorful glass and star-shapes. The modern design a stark difference to the old structure. Large metal poles and equipment are encircling the property. It was a work in progress but it was already huge.
Ash just gapes at the monstrosity. Misty winks, a smug smile on her face. "Got approved for some renovations."
. . .
Doors open to the main pool area. Lights flash and the main pool takes focus.
Ash feels Pikachu jump off his shoulder before he sees a spot of yellow in the corner of his eyes.
"Pika!"
"Psy-duck!"
Misty's Psyduck waddles over to them.
"Psyduck, what are you doing out of your ball?!"
The yellow duck rubs his head against Misty's leg. Making soft quacks.
"Everything is okay," she assures, getting on to Psyduck's level and wrapping her arms around him. "I'm okay! Look, Ash and Pikachu are here to visit!"
"It's been a while!" Ash greets Psyduck, bending his knees to pat his feathery head. Pikachu jumps and waves his paws around, giving Psyduck a friendly slap against his paw.
The pokémon smile at each other. Psyduck twists his head up, giving Misty a signature dopey look.
She sighs. "You see me and immediately think of lunchtime huh?"
"Psyyy," Psyduck draws out. "Psy! Psy! Psy!"
"You guys hungry?" She asks Ash and Pikachu.
"You're cooking?"
Misty frowns suspiciously. "No."
"Then I'm hungry.
. . .
They ordered black bean burgers, fries, and large mango juices.
After tipping the delivery guy, they settle into the kitchenette slash break room. Pikachu and Psyduck share their bowl of chow and water as Misty and Ash spread out their meal on the table. Napkins and ketchup packets surrounding them. Ash rips a ketchup packet up as he chews on a fry, motioning for Pikachu to come over. The electric type's shimmer with excitement as Ash puts the ketchup on some fries and feeds it to Pikachu. Ash and Misty smile at Pikachu's joyful expression before unwrapping their meals.
The savory smell made Ash's mouth water as he bites into the burger.
"Why is this so good?" He asks in between bites, moaning lightly and stuffing fries into his face.
Misty swallows. Taking an eager sip of the mango juice, she smiles with the straw between her teeth. "I told you this place is the best."
Ash wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Happy to see Misty regaining her energy as time went on, he grins softly, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. Misty catches him staring and he jolts up straight as his face slips off his hand, red in the face he chomps another bite from his burger.
"So…" he begins, "where is everyone?"
Misty pats a napkin against the side of her mouth. "Well, the gym is closed for today and tomorrow. A lot of the frequent trainers usually go to the Sea Foam Islands or camp out somewhere. And my sisters are on a set for a commercial they are filming."
"For?"
"Some vitamin marketed towards pokémon performers? To promote energy, I'm not sure why they but you know, my sisters love their gigs. And my manager Georgio is in Hoenn visiting his mom so, it's just me."
Ash blinks. He thought he knew everything about gyms. Well, everything you can know without being a leader that is. Was a manager common?
And Georgio, her friend, her friend that she kissed, is her manager.
"Gyms need managers?"
"Not all of them but Cerulean does. It takes a team to run a growing gym. I need some help running programs and ensuring training regimens for incoming trainers applying to them. Not only for trainers and their pokémon but things like water safety, swim lessons, classes of different aquatic environments, and lectures on water-types for the public."
"Oh. I had no idea."
A sense of guilt washes over him. There was a lot he didn't consider that went into her title.
"The more programs we began offering, the more help I needed. Georgio is someone I met before he was even hired but once we opened the position and held interviews—he was the best match. He's a trainer, but his interest is in the sports management field. Likes baseball and league matches—says he remembers when you placed Top 16 in the Indigo League."
"Ahh, that was so long ago." Ash's fries were getting cold.
"You've been in the game a long time," she reminds him.
"So have you," he interjects, "I mean, Misty look at this place. This is crazy—you're winning that many battles?"
"I'm not unbeatable but leaders aren't supposed to be."
"I like it that way—"
"Of course, you do! Trainers like to do the beating. But what I mean is that I should be losing as much as I should be winning. We aren't only here to give out badges or make kids cry, we are challenges. And battles are full of lessons. Sometimes I learn a thing or two, sometimes I teach others. The Cerulean Gym shouldn't just be a pitstop before the next badge."
As confident as she was, she took most losses humbly and willing to help guide a challenger to the next step before walking out the gates of Cerulean City. "Everyone probably had to adjust to how you handle things compared to your sisters."
Misty scowls. "To give out badges without a fight. It's been forever and it still baffles me how they did that."
"Were they weird about the renovations?"
"It was mostly out of nostalgia, but I decided that I'm not going to be a leader forever, so I might as well change what I want now before I lose the opportunity."
He almost chokes on his bite. "You're leaving?"
"Not immediately but I've been thinking about the future and what I want. Traveling and competing, meeting new types of water pokémon, and getting to experience all types of new places. I miss it." Her expression is dreamlike.
He feels a jolt of excitement. "Misty, that would be amazing."
Her smile infectious. "You ever think about the Whirlpool Cup?"
"Sometimes, I do." His mind reels to the memory of Misty under the moon. "Yeah."
"Next year is the anniversary and I decided I'm going to compete."
"Really?"
"I'm going to take some time to travel and train. Daisy mostly wants to start staying in Kanto more for work so she offered to lead the gym if Lily and Violet can manage to step in to help when they can.
"Why the change of heart?"
"Well, we call him Tracey but Daisy calls him future husband."
His jaw drops. "You're lying."
"I am a hundred percent serious."
Ash almost chokes on his drink. "How?!"
"They aren't dating yet according to Daisy but she is working on making her mark in one way or another. She's determined."
"Does Tracey know?"
"That Daisy likes him? I think he is too busy hanging off her every word to even notice she's interested. He's kind of humble in that way, doesn't expect someone like Daisy to feel the same way."
"Tracey Sketchit, your brother-in-law."
Misty swallows, grinning. "He'll pass out when he realizes he's gonna be stuck with me and my sisters for the rest of his life."
"That's nuts."
"Wait till you hear about a certain someone and the leader of the Saffron City Gym."
Seconds past. "Excuse me? Who even—"
Realization seeps in slowly. "You're really nuts."
"Don't shoot the messenger."
"Brock and Sabrina? Sabrina?"
"They are attending university at the same time. She takes theater and literature classes."
"I…I don't have the energy to unpack all that."
"Love is in the air in Kanto, literally."
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he whistles, redirecting the conversation. "You traveling again seems kind of crazy."
She drums her fingers on the table. "Worried about having another rival out there?" Misty's expression is coy, watching him carefully.
His eyes sharpen. "I wouldn't necessarily be worried."
"You should be," she pushes, fiddling with the straw of her drink. "I'm going for gold too, Ketchum. My dream is to still be a water pokémon master and to get a title like that, I'm going to have to beat a lot of trainers like you."
Ash's heart picks up. "If you can beat me," shoots out of his mouth like a bolt of lightning, unable to take his eyes off her.
"When," she emphasizes, "I beat you."
"Name the time and place, I'll be there."
"Even during your break?"
"Never said I was going to stop battling. Right, Pikachu?"
Pikachu looks up from his food, nose twitching. "Piiii-ka!"
Misty's smile is wide. "I'm interested to see how your style has developed in person I won't lie to you, Ash. The TV doesn't do you justice."
Bashfully, he rubs the back of his neck. A slight shift to her tone brought on a shift to his demeanor. "My team and I will show you then. I mean, uh, once you're up for it."
"My team will meet you halfway."
He feels giddy at the thought of battling in her renovated gym, picturing how her pokémon have grown and wonders how her style has progressed. Misty, always quick to the offense, had a 'struck in the face' sort of way about battling that left him feeling tripped up.
"One condition," she adds on, "I want Georgio to referee it."
Ash blinks. "Okay, but why is that necessary?"
She giggles. "I told you! He's watched your battles before and I think he would really enjoy it."
Ash's mouth twitches. "So, Georgio," he pronounces his name like he has a half-spoon full of peanut butter on the roof of his mouth. "He's usually always around here? …With you?"
"He works here, Ash. What kind of question is that?"
Ash furrows his eyebrows. "You said you kissed him, and he is your employee so..."
A theoretical string keeping Misty's patience together snaps. Her nose twitches and those ocean eyes turn into glaring slits. Sometimes Ash didn't know what felt stronger, salt rubbed in a wound or Misty's seething eyes slicing him up like minced mushrooms. "What is wrong with you?"
He blinks at her unrelenting expression. Fumbling for words, Ash's heart drops to his stomach. "You told me you kissed him—"
"In confidence!" She takes a stand, slamming her hands against the countertop. "I told you that to relate to you, not for you to just—just mention it like I did something wrong."
Ash sees hot tears start to build up. Misty grabs her trash, rolling up wrappers and napkins, dunking it into the trash. He catches her waver a bit when going to the sink to wash her hands.
"I don't understand—" He stands up. "Misty, I think you should calm down. Your head—you're still recovering—"
She almost snarls. "You're really going to tell me to calm down?"
Ash's stance is unwavering, his arms clutch to his side. "It's not good for you to be all worked up!"
"Then WHY would you work me up?!"
"Because—" Ash's mouth fails to follow his train of thought. Words lost on his tongue, his heartbeat picking up the pace the longer Misty glares. She stands there, waiting for him to say something. To do something.
He hangs his head low. "I…I don't know why I said that."
She takes in a deep breath and sighs. "Come with me," she says, walking out of the kitchenette. He follows her, earning the curious looks from Pikachu and Psyduck. Ash looks back over his shoulder. "Wait for a second okay guys?" The yellow pokémon nod and watch their trainers storm out. Ash turns facing Misty's back, following as she leads him to the elevator. "What? Where?"
Frigid air hits them as they enter the elevator. Misty presses the button to the second floor, crossing her arms over her chest as they wait. Ash's mouth shuts tight the second Misty snaps her head to look at him. "We didn't talk about if you were staying or going or whatever, but I want to show you the guest room for you to settle. Then I'm going to go to my room, rest, and you do…you do whatever you want."
"Misty…"
"Ash," her voice low and stern, "we should give each other some space."
The elevator beeps. She walks out and he catches a glimpse of a white bandage underneath tangerine locks. The image of her last night burning in his memory.
"But you're obviously upset with me," he affirms, following behind her as she led him to the end of a hallway, passing freshly installed windows on one side and a gallery of picture frames next to ornaments made of sea glass on the other. Greens and blues covering the light peach walls.
Ash doesn't remember much of the Cerulean City layout, but he recognizes a light seafoam door on the other side of the hall. The door was plain all except for the staryu doorknob. He halts, watching her room door for a moment, piecing together parts of the room the best he can remember. His mind reels to a soft woven baby blanket embroidered with daisies and a replica of the S.S. Anne. That's Misty's room but she heads straight in the opposite direction, opening the door to what appears to be a guest room. All soft pastels and seashells.
"There should be towels and extra toiletries in the guest bathroom for you if you're staying."
"Thank—"
Misty sucks in a short breath and heads out as if she were avoiding the plague. "Okay," she comes off curt, lifting her head high despite the slight tears and blotchy face.
"—Wait a minute—"
She turns around. "Ash, I'm not upset with you," she assures him. "I just feel…hurt."
The blisters he got from grabbing the wheel too tight while driving throb as Ash closed his hands into fists. Mixed feelings—mostly shame and a hint of self-hatred—circulate throughout Ash like a whirlpool.
He hurt her.
He hurt her and she's walking away from him.
He hurt her, she's walking away from him, and he might throw up his stomach if he stands there any longer.
"Misty, I am—"
"Why did you say that?" Her hand clasps onto the staryu doorknob, waiting to hear his response. "We were having fun and relaxing after everything last night and I just don't get why you would say something I told you privately with—with such judgment."
His throat tight, he whispers, "I wasn't judging you, Misty."
"The way you looked at me, Ash. That was judging me. So, why did you say that?"
"It was a stupid thing to say, I don't know—"
"If you're going to say something, at least know why. If you're going to judge me, at least tell me your true feelings instead of making me feel small." Misty closes her eyes, wiping the tears with the back of her hand.
The hallway was closing in on him. Sadness dripping from her like droplets from a faucet. Misty waits for words that he was scraping to find, failing to come up with anything coherent. She doesn't believe that those words just slipped out with no reason and deep down, neither did he.
His head hangs in defeat, listening to her bedroom door unlock.
"Tell psyduck I'm resting and that I'll be down to feed the others later," Misty says, cooly.
"Okay, I will—"
Her door is shut in front of Ash's face and he is left standing. Basking in her frustrations, her sadness, thinking about the stupid words from his stupid mouth. He reminds himself that they fight sometimes.
They used to fight all the time. They still fight. Most of the fights, playful or immature spats, but Ash feels the weight of this one. It was different this time.
Eventually, he stops staring at the door, passing by various framed photos to get to the elevator, descending to the bottom floor. Stepping out, unsure of himself, he hopes to head in the right direction. This new Cerulean City was a labyrinth. He picks up his pace and rushes. "Pikachu," Ash cries out, his voice tense. "Pikachu, Psyduck, where are you?"
"—Pikachu pi?"
Following the sound of Pikachu's voice, Ash turns around the corner, his sneakers squeaking against the tile, and finds an unlit hallway with two yellow bodies sitting in the middle of it. The pokemon sit right in front of a large screen on a wall, looking up at the bright colors in wonder. The video casts the only light of the entire hall. Ash edges closer, standing in front of the screen. A video image, a scene of crashing water and a large whirlpool takes over the screen, plays, and transitions to a teal fin swimming. A mermaid smile sends an arrow, cleanly, right through his heart.
.
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notes: i apologize to readers that have been waiting a while for an update. i had other projects and life can get hectic, but i am happy to update with this chapter! the next chapter will be the final so i hope you enjoy ash and misty for a little while longer.
thank you so much. please feel free to leave your thoughts. xoxo