Fractured Stars

by Spruceton Spook

Part 11

The Ruinous Morning

Brock rapped his knuckles lightly upon the door, leaning his tired, heavy body against the side of the house. Misty yawned loudly beside him, a contented yawn, and she began to hum softly to herself. Her chirpy little Togepi's eyes darted happily up at the sky as a flock of boisterous Pidgey flew by. Misty found herself looking up at the brown streaks, as well, highly contrast against the pale blue morning sky.

They waited for a couple moments before the door creaked open, and very mildly Delia's head popped out from behind it. She gave them a warm smile, opening the door invitingly.

"Morning, guys," she said, her tone relaxed. Resting her head on the door, she watched silently as Brock and Misty slipped in carefully, each sporting their own pleasant morning smiles. Delia closed the door quietly when they were inside and sighed softly.

"So, did you have a nice night?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

The two looked at each other for a moment, and shrugged.

"Sure," Misty replied. "We…we slept good and all."

"That's good," Delia nodded satisfyingly. "I'm glad to hear that."

Misty bit her lip, and her face became scrunched apprehensively. "Is Ash here?" she asked somberly. Brock's eyes rose attentively at Delia as the question came out.

Delia's gaze fell to the ground, and she nodded. It was no surprise that that question came out so soon. "Yeah, he's here," she answered. "He hasn't been out of his room yet, though."

Misty and Brock looked almost shamefully at the ground, the previous night and the way Ash had unexpectedly bolted still a fresh memory. They had not even been at Gary's for half an hour, and yet in the end it seemed ridiculous that such a thing wasn't foreseen. The last they had seen of Ash, he was in a rage, his face clutched in a look of pure insanity and hatred, and then of devastation. They couldn't even begin to imagine what shape he was in now.

Delia suddenly closed her eyes and shook her head rigidly, as if she didn't want to talk more about it. "I'm really upset with him."

Brock slumped as an impetuous pain of guilt shot through his body. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Ketchum," he mumbled candidly. "I should've stopped him—"

"No," Delia stopped him right away, placing a hand on his mouth delicately. Brock's words were hushed immediately back into his mouth. Delia formed a light smile. "Don't apologize for anything. None of this was your fault."

"I know," he shrugged as Delia took her hand away from Brock. "But still, I should have…but I couldn't…"

"Ash was going pretty crazy," Misty said cautiously, her voice in a low squeak.

Delia groaned and brought her hands up to her temples, which she rubbed agitatedly. "Oh, God," she whimpered anxiously. "What—what happened there last night?"

Misty and Brock fell into a brief period of silence, exchanging another uneasy glance at each other. They had discussed this on the way home, how they were going to approach it. Swallowing, Brock began to speak.

"Well," he said prudently, gesturing slightly with his hands, "it…it wasn't too good. I mean, Gary was fine and all. I don't understand what initially set Ash off… I guess it was just—just the fact that he didn't want to be there. Gary was trying to make nice conversation, and Ash was ignoring him, basically what it's always like between those two, but then…I dunno, they started talking about their former friendship, and then some insults starting flying back and forth…"

Brock watched as Delia covered her face as the story went on, pausing a bit before concluding.

"Then, Ash just…well, he just blew his stack," Brock related. He stopped the story there, as he and Misty had decided first and foremost not to tell Delia that Ash had hit Gary. They didn't know what that would bring about, and felt it was best to leave it out. Besides, Gary had not been hurt. He was a bit shaken up for a few minutes, but ultimately Ash's punch had little physical effect. "I—I tried to stop him, to make him calm down, but then he just ran out of the house."

The room became dead silent again as Brock stared fastidiously at Delia, who seemed just overwhelmed, her face partially buried in the palm of her hand. Misty's attention was directed at the floor, waiting tediously for someone to say something.

Finally, Delia brought her face out of her hand, sighing loudly. "What made you kids stay?" she asked, her face painted with interest. "Why didn't you come home, too?"

"Because," replied Brock, taking a short breath, "we knew that…" He grinned nervously. "…that it wasn't going to be good back here."

Misty glanced momentarily at Brock, and then dropped her eyes again. She thought of what had occurred seconds after Ash had left. She started yelling out after him, wondering if he'd come to his senses and come back, but it just ended with Brock clasping a hand over her mouth, concerned that she would wake the entire neighborhood. She was utterly distressed, the whole fight between the two rivals setting off her fidgety emotions. Insisting to follow Ash and retrieve him, she was restrained by Brock, who without a second thought told her of his "deal" with Delia. Feeling uncomfortable to talk about the reason as to why Jay and Delia had wanted them out of the house for the night, but doing it otherwise, Misty squeamishly pushed aside her intention of going after Ash. She had looked worriedly in the direction of the Ketchum house for quite some time before she decided that it would be best to stay. Brock had agreed, saying that he didn't want to see what happened when Ash's parents found him back.

"Well, it wasn't good here," Delia said downheartedly, the events of the previous night still unsettled in her nerves. "Ash…he just barged into the house, no knocking, no ringing, nothing. When I saw the look on his face, and saw him crying like that, I didn't know what to think. And then…and then Jay started yelling at him, and those two got into a big fight…"

She stopped, shaking her head disgustedly again, her cue that she didn't want to go any further. "It was just awful."

Misty's face drooped as she listened to the account. As vague as it was, she could still conjure up an unpleasant picture. Especially after Brock had told her what Jay and Delia had been anticipating for so long—a quiet night to themselves—she couldn't even begin to imagine what torment it had launched. The conception of Jay and Ash fighting alone she couldn't grip, seeing as how those two barely ever looked at each other without a smile. It must have been some night.

"So, Ash hasn't come out at all?" Brock asked.

Delia shook her head, flustered. "Not since he locked himself in his room last night. But frankly…you know what? He can stay there. He—he has no idea what he did last night."

"I'm sorry," Brock felt obligated to apologize again. "I wish I could've done something, really."

Delia smiled softly. "No, Brock honey, you staying at Gary's last night was the best thing to do." She looked separately at Brock and Misty, smiling warily at both of them. "It was a good thing you weren't here last night."

"That's what we figured," Brock replied, grinning sheepishly. Delia nodded mildly.

"How's Gary?" she asked. "What's up with him right now?"

"He's all right," Brock replied. "I don't think he was too surprised with what happened. But he was a nice host, afterward. We talked a bit and stuff. He's okay."

Delia nodded calmly in satisfaction, glad that at least someone had had a good night.

Misty had been dead silent the whole time. Her mind was totally engulfed with thought, subconsciously taking in Brock and Delia's conversation. Ash was on her mind. She'd glanced up the stairs time after time, the urge to go up and see him strong in her. She wondered what he was doing up there, what he was feeling. As much as she felt that what Ash did was wrong, she couldn't help but notice how much Ash was a victim in all of this. The whole shock and agony of being at Gary's in the first place, then to become as emotionally distraught as he did, only to come home, possibly looking for relief, and instead find more fighting, more anguish. It was no surprise, really, the way he acted.

"Misty?" Misty's head jerked up abruptly at the sound of her name. She quickly put on a smile, dazed at the wake-up call.

"Y-yeah?" she asked, looking into the face of Delia.

"You're so quiet," Delia told her, giving her a comforting look. "Are you okay?"

Misty spread her smile wider and nodded briskly. "Sure, I'm okay. Just a little…tired, I guess. Big, long night."

Delia nodded. "You get any breakfast at Gary's?"

Brock and Misty shook their heads.

"We were kinda anxious to get home," Brock informed.

Smiling, Delia giggled. "Guess you're hungry then, huh?"

Grinning bashfully, Brock and Misty nodded honestly. They were starved, as even a cold slice of pizza sounded appetizing at the moment. They followed Delia sluggishly into the kitchen, watching silently as she poured them each heaping glasses of cold milk.

"Oh, darn," Delia groaned, holding the empty milk container over one of the glasses, letting the last few drops drip in. "I didn't realize we were so low on milk. I guess I'm gonna have to go out to get some today."

Brock cocked his eyebrow. "You want me to get some milk for you?" he asked, taking his glass of milk. The cold, creamy liquid was just too good to wait for.

A sanguine smile took over Delia's lips. "You'd do that?"

Brock gave her an incredulous face. "Of course," he replied, chuckling. "For all that you do for us, it's the least I can do." He flashed her a toothy smile.

Delia matched his smile. "I'd really appreciate that, Brock," she sighed sincerely. "Thanks."

"No prob," Brock waved it away, finishing off his milk in one gulp. He nudged Misty's shoulder with his elbow, raising his eyes and swallowing. "You wanna come?"

Misty scowled at him for his shove, but otherwise shrugged. "Sure," she replied. "Why not?"

Since there was no more milk in the house, Brock and Misty had to settle for some toast and juice. Not that this was a problem for them, of course. The small, yet likewise delicious breakfast was very satisfying, and they were already on their way out the door as soon as they were done.

"You want anything else?" Misty asked, accepting the money that Delia was handing to her.

"Nah," Delia replied. "Just use the extra money for snacks or ice cream or something. Anything you want, since you're such good kids."

Brock and Misty smiled simultaneously, bounding fleetly out the door soon afterwards. Delia watched them go with a smile, sighing calmly. Softly closing the door, she headed back for the kitchen to do the meager dishes that Brock and Misty had left behind.


"Where are they going?" Ash mumbled to himself. He was leaning on his windowsill, looking below as Brock and Misty made their way down the road. He squinted confusingly as they disappeared gradually into the distance, their long shadows trailing behind them in the morning sunshine.

He bit his lip, his mind filled with sudden puzzlement. He had no idea that Brock and Misty were home in the first place, but then again, how was he to know? They hadn't come up to see him, which startled Ash, making him wonder why they wouldn't want to find out what happened. Weren't they worried about him? Swallowing heavily, he didn't need to think any further of it. He knew why they didn't come up to see him. There was no second guessing there.

Turning dejectedly from the window, Ash rubbed his tired eyes. He had been awake for a good hour, fresh from a shockingly restful sleep. He'd actually slept like a log, for as soon as his eyes shut for good that night, they remained that way till that morning. Figuring on how upset he was, Ash thought he would've been up a few times during the night. He found that he sometimes had an uneasy night after something so hectic like that happened, but that wasn't the case last night. He was more than grateful for that.

But a little part of him wished that the morning hadn't come so quickly. It was apparent in the fact that he was still in his room after waking such a while ago. A couple of times, Ash felt the urge to go out, to go down to get some food or use the bathroom at least, but a strong feeling a reluctance held him back. Instead, he wound up flipping randomly through morning talk shows on the TV and reading some magazines, his attention drawn frequently out the window and at the outside world.

"Pika," Pikachu uttered lightly from atop Ash's bed, flicking his ears playfully at his trainer. Ash managed a small smile, and reached up to stroke his pal's head. Pikachu chirped softly at the touch, which made Ash a bit happier.

You're the only one who cares about me, Ash mentally told his Pokémon, basking in the satisfaction of Pikachu's pleasant expression. He tilted his head and smiled affectionately as Pikachu's bright brown eyes opened again.

Ash took a deep, sound breath and pulled his hand away. His eyes dropped, and he pursed his lips tensely. "Guess I should go down sometime, huh, Pikachu?"

"Chu," Pikachu nodded, giving Ash a sympathetic look.

Ash slumped at Pikachu's response, dreading the answer just as much as he had expected it. He glanced nervously at his door, still closed, still locked—just as he had left it the night before. His muscles tightened as he thought about leaving his room, his "safe zone" as he had christened it the night before. He wasn't sure yet if he wanted to leave. One thing that made him slightly comforted was the fact that he knew Jay wasn't home; he had left for work hours ago. But his mom was going to be around for another hour or so, as she always left for work around ten on Mondays, and Ash didn't know what her temperament was like this morning.

Pikachu watched Ash attentively. The poor boy was wringing his hands anxiously. His brown eyes clearly showed his distress, flickering worriedly.

God, I need to use the bathroom, Ash thought, wincing uncomfortably. Oh man…need to get downstairs!

He clenched his hands tightly into fists, silently debating on whether or not to go. He needed to eventually, since nature's call was calling him very strongly, and he wasn't sure if he could hold out much longer. The house was quite silent, as Ash detected no movement or groaning of the floors underneath him. Was Delia around? It was hard to tell from such stillness.

Finally, Ash just shook his head of the situation. Building up his courage, he put on a determined face, and told himself harshly to go and stop worrying. Pikachu followed him slowly behind, though it wasn't barely as slow as Ash was going. The boy was dragging his feet, almost as if they weighed two tons each. His fingers curled in and out as he walked, a habit he displayed when he was nervous.

Being as quiet as he possibly could, Ash descended down the stairs, gripping the banister tightly. As he made his way to the ground floor, he could hear his mom rustling softly around in the kitchen, and a chopping knife became perceptible. Gulping in a desperate attempt to rid the lump in his throat, Ash breathed faster, a chill of discomfort coursing through his body as his foot touched the floor for the first time.

Ash could see his mother's back to him, and his eyes rose attentively. She must not have heard him come down. At that moment, Ash regretting even emerging from his room. This was exactly what he didn't feel like experiencing. He wished he could zap himself to the bathroom and back to his room effortlessly, without having to go through this turmoil. Giving himself the mental push necessary, Ash worked his legs yet again, slowly taking himself to the bathroom.

Delia's head never turned as he walked past the kitchen entranceway. Ash couldn't believe that she hadn't noticed him yet. Sure, he was walking slowly and inconspicuously, but it wasn't that he was obsolete. Usually, she could always hear him even tip-toeing about. But now she didn't even flinch, her head down as she concentrated on the vegetables she was cutting, presumably for the night's dinner. That's when he realized something wasn't right.

It hit him so oddly, and his curiosity caused him to halt in the entranceway. He looked glumly at his mom's back, cocking his head as his bottom lips quivered. He forced his mouth to move and speak.

"Mom?" he squeaked inaudibly. He expected her to turn around immediately, but she didn't budge.

"Mama?"

The knife didn't even hesitate in mid-chop. She just went on like nothing else was there. Gritting his teeth despondently, Ash hung his head.

Oh crap, Ash groaned to himself. Please not this. It was one thing if Delia was yelling at him or reprimanding him, but when she ignored him, Ash felt ten times worse.

He took a deep, apprehensive breath and looked sadly at his mother's back.

"Mom, I…I'm sorry about last night," he said, gripping softly onto the side of the doorway and resting his head timidly against it. His voice was shaking, but it was sincere. His heart took a small leap when he noticed his mother's head lift and the chopping finally stop. His eyes rose expectantly.

"You should be," Delia replied sullenly, her head lowering again, never turning around.

Ash's face fell as she said this, and he looked shamefully at the ground. He blinked long and hard, feeling the loathsome chill of guilt fly through him. It was an incredibly miserable feeling. He took hold of himself, and prepared to explain.

"I…I know what I did last night was bad," he mumbled. "I know I shouldn't have come home. You and Dad wanted to be alone last night, I know." He paused before continuing, needing to breathe to calm his thumping heart.

"B-but it was so bad there, Mom! Gary was being such a jerk, and I just couldn't stand him anymore! I didn't want to be there any longer, because…well, I didn't even want to be there in the first place! I told you I didn't want to go, and I really didn't… And that's why…that's why I—I don't want you to be mad at me. You have every right in the world to be mad at me, I know, but I…wish you weren't. 'Cause I'm sorry, an-and I just h-hope you know that."

He stopped there, a small nervous exhale escaping through his lips. He had tried to keep from whining, as he found so easy to do, but it had been difficult. It didn't help that he had no idea what his mom was thinking or doing at the moment, whether or not she wanted to speak to him and deal with this. Ash couldn't take much more of it. The feeling of regret had never been so strong. He braced himself and awaited a response from Delia, if one ever was to come.

Sighing, Delia turned around, her rigid, glaring eyes settling deep into her son's. Ash gulped, his face involuntarily sagging, begging for the forgiveness he craved so greatly. He withdrew, cowering like a nervous puppy. She remained that way momentarily, simply staring gravely at him.

"Mom—"

Delia brought her hand up abruptly, hushing her son. He bit his lip and immediately shut his mouth. She continued to look at him blankly, her narrowing eyes causing Ash to feel more and more apprehensive by the second. He had no idea what to expect, as his mother was making no inclination of what was to come next.

Finally, Delia took a deep breath and spoke. Her voice was calm yet firm. "I need to say something to you."

Ash rapidly nodded. Folding his arms around himself, he clutched anxiously at the sides of his shirt. He could feel Pikachu slip between his legs, his warm body comforting him slightly. Glancing down quickly, he saw Pikachu's eyes staring deeply into his, filled with worry. Feeling that it was best to keep his eyes on Delia, however, he immediately gave her his attention again.

Delia brushed the hair out of her face, her stare beginning to make Ash substantially wary.

"Ash, I don't understand you," she began somberly. Her eyes then darted around, and she shook her head slightly. Her mouth moved, but nothing came out, as she struggled to say next. It was all clear in her mind, but jumbled in her words. Finally, she managed to continue: "I give you everything."

Ash squinted confusingly as she said this. Delia's eyes were glistened and full of remorse, and they were soon focused on him again. She went on, her voice shaking.

"I try so hard to please you. Your happiness is one of the only things I ever think about, you know that? I gave you everything you ever wanted. It wasn't always easy, but I did it anyway…I did it because I took pleasure in seeing how thankful you were, how your little eyes lit up. There've rarely been times I haven't given you what you wanted."

Staring with dismay at the floor, Ash managed to nod. He couldn't see where this was going, but from the way his mother was talking, it didn't seem to be in his favor.

"I don't think you even know the magnitude of what I've given you recently," Delia went on slowly and glumly. Ash looked at her again. "This Pokémon journey of yours? You have no idea, Ash, how hard it was for me the day you told me that you wanted to go on it. I spent weeks thinking about it, about how much I didn't want you to go. Oh God, Ash, I was up in arms over it. It made me sick to think about letting you go out there into the world all by yourself. All I could think of was how you were just a baby—my baby—and all the bad things that could happen to you. I debated and argued with myself over it for weeks, Ash, for weeks! There were times when I had made up my mind, that the answer was no, but every time I went to tell you, I just couldn't do it. I knew I couldn't do that to you. I knew how much you loved Pokémon, and how badly you wanted to go on that journey. And that's why I made the most difficult decision I ever had to—I let you go on that journey, because I knew in my heart how it would've crushed you if I hadn't."

Ash bit his bottom lip, trying to fight the tears that were accumulating in the bases of his eyes as Delia's words sank into him. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Ash, Delia was fighting back her own tears as she forced more of the painful words out of her mouth.

"I give you everything," she said again. "Everything. I never ask for anything in return, hardly. Just that you be a good boy, and do some stuff around the house, but never anything in particular. Except for this. This one time…all I asked for, Ash…all I asked for was one night."

Very slowly, she raised her solitary index finger. "One night. One night alone with your dad." She shook her head disgracefully. "But you couldn't give that to me, could you?"

Ash was at a loss for words as he gaped at her, his mouth dropped open in stupefaction. The words stung as they shot through his body, filling him with the most overwhelming feeling of lamentation he'd ever felt in his entire life. His heart seemed to tear in two at the refractory, cold words, overtaking him at once. Not only did they hurt, but Ash found them regrettably true, and slowly yet surely, his face deteriorated along with his spirits.

"Mom?" he started, hoping to somehow amend this.

But his mother didn't even acknowledge it, and slowly turned back to her unfinished job. Choking back her tears, she picked up the knife and began to cut the vegetables, licking her dry lips repeatedly. Ash was still standing in the doorway; she could feel him there. His silence told all—what she had said was undoubtedly effective. It hurt her to say that, but it needed to be done. Her disappointment in Ash needed to be relayed to him, to let him know the impact of what he had really done.

And did it ever work. Ash slowly backed away from the kitchen, his vision blurring over from the strong rush of tears. Pikachu was left sitting where he was, and the Pokémon watched mournfully as his trainer dragged himself back up the stairs. Throwing one more forlorn glance at Delia, Pikachu hopped up to follow Ash.

The bathroom was the last thing on Ash's mind as he made his way back to his room. His face was blank and pale, and he seemed to stare off into space. His mother's words inadvertently replayed in his memory liked a skipping record, completely washing his mind over with nothing but the most horrible feeling of dejection. He couldn't believe what she had told him. Why couldn't she have just yelled and screamed at him? That he could've bore. But not this.

"Pika pi?" Pikachu piped up, raising Ash's head. Stopping in the middle of the hallway, he glanced down at his Pokémon. Pikachu lifted his mouth into a sympathetic smile. "Pikachu."

Biting his lip forcefully, Ash's teeth showed through a desperate smile. Sniffling back a few hurtful tears, he bent down and collected Pikachu into his arms. Gripping him tightly to his chest, Ash rested his head on Pikachu's soft, warm head. Pikachu's long ears brushed against his face, tickling him just a bit.

"Oh, Pikachu," Ash moaned dolefully. "I really screwed up this time."

"Pi, chu," Pikachu replied gently and understandably. He could feel Ash clutching him more strongly, making it a bit uncomfortable, but he didn't mind. He wasn't the one who needed solace right now.

"Why didn't I just stay at Gary's?" whimpered his trainer, the first sign of crying breaking through his voice. He shook his head fiercely. "Oh, man, why didn't I?! Why do I always mess up everything? Why didn't I just listen to Misty, and be strong like she told me to? I—I could have, but I didn't…no, instead I go and do something stupid like this!"

Suddenly, Pikachu felt some wetness against his fur, and it didn't take long for him to realize that tears were dripping from Ash. His nose twitched as Ash stirred, finally completing his lugubrious walk to his bedroom. Closing the door quietly behind him, Ash leaned against it. His wet eyes rose and scanned the ceiling, and his hand stroked over Pikachu's back again and again. Throwing his head back, he clunked it lightly yet miserably against the door. Slowly, his legs slid out from underneath him, and he sank to the floor.

He curled up right there, squeezing Pikachu to his chest. He curled his body up, bringing his legs in and his knees up to his chin. Pikachu was wedged somewhere in the middle, clutched desperately in his trainer's shaking arms like a plush toy. A heavy, heartbroken sob escaped Ash's throat loudly, and his face cringed miserably. The effect of his mother's words worsened by the second, and gradually Ash began to loathe himself.


Ash remained on the floor for a good half-hour before a light knock came upon his door. He tensed up, a chill running through his body. He recognized the knock of his mother immediately, and with a small sniffle, he spoke.

"What?" he asked, his voice shaky.

"I'm going to work," Delia answered from behind the closed door. "I'll be home later this afternoon. Bye."

She left after that. Ash could hear her walking down the hallway, and then trotting down the stairs and out the door, which slammed soundly behind her. At that was that. No "See ya later, honey," no "Good-bye, Ash, I love you, give me a kiss," or any of the frequent phrases that always seemed to accompany Delia's leaving. None of them. It made Ash feel even colder, and he withdrew more tightly, biting his tongue in response to his emotional pain.

He had never expected his mother to act this way. He could tell she was clearly upset the previous night, but he didn't know it was this serious. She was honest-to-God mad at him, a situation alone that made Ash feel horrible. She may not have ranted and raved like Jay had done, but she was just as disappointed and frustrated with him.

Stopping for a moment at the thought of Jay, Ash lifted his head and looked in the direction of Viridian City—not that it did much, but he was inclined to do it. As much as he strove to put it out his mind, he couldn't help thinking about the night before. It troubled him how angry his father was, how for the first time in over three years, Jay succeeded in putting the fear of God into him. His father could do that very well, aside from being the witty, humorous, happy-go-lucky guy Ash knew him as. He trembled as he recalled more of it.

Maybe I should call him, Ash thought to himself. Tell him how sorry I am.

If only it were that easy. There was nothing, of course, stopping Ash from calling his dad—except for fear. But Ash didn't know exactly what that fear was. It was just an itty-bitty yet powerfully tense feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that warned him over and over again: Don't do it, don't do it! Ash couldn't precisely understand why he felt this way so intensely. After all, what could possibly happen? Jay hang up on him? Ash knew he wouldn't do that; Jay wasn't like that. But there was always the possibility of many other unpleasant instances: getting harshly berated once again, or getting promises of punishment when Jay came home, or worse yet, getting the same cold words that Delia had given him. Unfortunately, Jay could be like that. And that was something Ash didn't think he could handle at the moment.

Temporarily pushing that thought to the side, Ash was left in dismay again. He held a now slumbering Pikachu in his arms, conked out from the constant petting and warmth of his trainer's snug hold. It was the only thing making Ash feel decent, not totally over the edge. He still had someone beside him, someone who was on his side. He wasn't completely alone. Or, at least, he didn't think he was.

Brock and Misty kept slinking their way back into Ash's mind.

Where the hell are they? he repeatedly asked himself. There was never an instance like this when his friends went off without him. Out of all the times he needed them, this was the greatest, but instead of endowing him with sympathy and compassion, they were off gallivanting somewhere. Ash couldn't help but put it together with last night, wondering if there was some connection to the fact that he hadn't spoken to them since he blew up at Gary. Could they possibly be just as mad at him?

Why would they be, you idiot? Ash scolded himself, forcing himself to render his thoughts ridiculous. You're thinking stupid things now, Ashton… Cut it out.

Brock and Misty couldn't be upset with him. They were his best friends in the whole world. They never went against him. Sure, they had found some things he'd done in the past dumb, but they always let him know. They were always there to help him, too—through anything. He didn't think last night was so bad. The thing with his parents—yeah, that was bad. But standing up to Gary and not letting him degrade him? He saw that as an achievement on his part. He imagined his friends would have thought similarly. Misty and Brock weren't fond of Gary, either. So why didn't they defend him then? Was it that perhaps—

No! Ash gritted. But still, they….

There were too many questions bouncing around in Ash's head. So many unclear factors, all going to war within his brain.

Oh man, Ash sighed uneasily, his body tensing. He brought his hands up to his face and buried it in them, smearing the tears about. He breathed heavily through his mouth, as his nose was too stuffed from the hours upon hours of crying. Withdrawing himself more, he felt himself shrinking, stiffening as a most wretched sensation suddenly swept through him. It almost crept up on him, taking him by surprise so forcefully that Ash shuddered. Misty and Brock weren't there. His mom was driving his feelings into the dirt. His dad…who knew what his dad felt about him? But he knew it wasn't going to earn him a hug when Jay got home.

What did I do this time? What did I do to make everyone hate me?

TO BE CONTINUED . . .