**Becoming**
by: MistY BluE
Chapter 3:
Three Words Doesn't Equal A Thousand Miles
AUTHOR'S NOTE: In case y'all didn't know, "A Thousand Miles" is a song. Though I didn't want to spoil it…! I wanted all of ya to figure it out on your own but, uh…hey you got ya answers right here. ^^;; I HATE my stupid Microsoft Word. It sucks, I can't align things the way I wanted to! Ohwell. "A Thousand Miles" is by Vanessa Carlton. Don't own it…Please, milk the money out of someone who's got it, and that counts me out. ^^; Also, my writing has gotten more serious in this chapter, though there are some humorous bits. Anyhoo, like I always say, enjoy the fic! OH! And PS…I sorta snagged an idea from Crossroads, for any of you who saw it, well…it'll look familiar!
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"Le la la la…hmm no, that melody is too high pitched!" Misty slinked her vibrant, flame-resembling hair onto her spiral notebook she had been keeping poems and deep thoughts in. Sort of like a diary.
Misty was beginning to lose all hopes. She had called SingBig Records, and they accepted her for an appointment for a tryout the next day around eleven in the morning. Misty knew she had a beautiful voice, she hadn't a problem admitting it. In fact, she would hum and flow with the music in her early years; which doesn't seem hard to believe seeing as how she had gotten a big break out of it in the afternoon hours of the day. However, there were just some kinks that she thought she had to workout with Ash and Brock.
After her few moments alone in the corner of the Pokemon Center, Brock and Ash had enough energy to actually shuffle their way through the automatic doors.
"I…I…I can't feel my mouth even moving…*ATCHOO!* Oh…*sniff* damn it, I have a headcold now. Brock…?"
"W-w-w-what?" Brock was shivering so badly that he didn't take notice he looked like he was having a seizure.
"Come closer, please." Ash demanded while his teeth were chattering rapidly.
Brock scuffed a few inches over. "YOU are stupid! You are stupid! AND DON'T FORGET YOU ARE STUPID!" Ash's hand shaked uncontrollably while he lifted it trying to reach Brock's head to smack it.
Brock decided to take advantage of Ash's incredibly slow movements. He grimaced, and tiptoed further away from him, closing in near Misty, making Ash much more agitated than before; his hand still shaking, trying and trying to get to his main goal by beating the crap out of Brock for putting him through shoveling all the snow out there with him.
"Hiya Misty, what're you up to?" Brock began to warm up, and of course, you can tell by his rosy cheeks on his olive skin. He took a comforting seat next to her.
"Oh…pretty much, really. I'm just aggravated at the moment because I've drawn a total blank trying to think up some lyrics and an even better melody!" She placed her notepad beside her as she sunk her chin down on both of her risen palms and began to space out.
Brock wanted to help. It was the least he could do, whether or not she would become a pop diva. His curiosity got the best of him; he examined the clatter of loose papers and whatnot on her notebook. What really caught his eye, was a neatly folded piece of composition paper with a pressed, dried up crimson-blushing rose attached to it with a tiny paper clip.
Then it hit him, this had been the rose from last year's Valentine's Day that Ash had given to her for being one of his only friends that is a girl that he actually had ever cared for. No wonder why she was so bent on Brock not saying a word that she liked Ash. Well, that's the way it goes with everyone, basically. Perhaps, she liked him for being one of the few boys who ever took an interest in her tomboyish, attractive ways. Who knew?
While Misty had probably calmed down and wouldn't know that he had picked up the paper, he unfolded it very carefully, not making a sound. Brock cautiously grazed over the pruned rose with his fingertips. Then there was a scent of a deliciously fragrant perfume. It was Allure.
"Hah, it's just like her to put a romantic touch to the simplest things…" He inwardly mused and chuckled.
Brock glanced over her cursive writing. It seemed to be in alignment as a poem would be, it also had a title, so chances are it was. The poem was entitled: "A Thousand Miles." Misty suddenly snatched the piece of paper out of Brock's fingers instantly.
"BROCK! DON'T GO THROUGH MY STUFF, YOU YUTZ!" Misty had blushed a shade of red that matched her hair color. She lightly held the poem with the rose against her chest.
"I am only trying to help! And come on, I see you got some poems there. What do you think most of these pop songs are made out of? Gee, Alex Trebek, what is a poem?" Brock had been getting more sarcastic by the days.
Misty sighed, "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm just not so sure about expressing the feelings I put into these poems to the whole deranged world!"
"Well, can you please read it to me?" Misty shot Brock a skeptical expression, "Misty! Please. You can trust me." He really did mean it.
"Well, well, well. Looks as if your funny-ass ways are dwindeling down…"
"No comments from the Peanut Gallery, okay? Just please, for the last time read it to me."
"All right. Don't laugh." She had a sparkle of distinct in her eyes. He nodded and smiled while she straightened the sheet of paper. Misty cleared her throat prudently and reads her poem softly.
"Makin my way downtown
Walking fast
Faces passed
And I'm home bound
Staring blankly ahead
Just making my way
Making my way
Through the crowd
And I need you
And I miss you
And now I wonder....
If I could fall
Into the sky
Do you think time
Would pass me by
'Cause you know I'd walk
A thousand miles
If I could
Just see you
Tonight
It's always times like these
When I think of you
And I wonder
If you ever
Think of me
'Cause everything's so wrong
And I don't belong
Living in your
Precious memories
'Cause I need you
And I miss you
And now I wonder... That's basically all you need to hear for now, heh, heh."
"Aw, Misty!" Brock had tears flowing in waterfalls down his cheeks, "THAT IS SO BEAUTIFUL," he hugged her extremely tight that she could feel her ribs rub against the opposite sides.
Misty only rolled her eyes, mumbled a simple thanks, and shoved her friend to the side. Meanwhile, after having been caught up in all the entertainment, Ash took a stroll over to them. "Hi guys, what's up?"
Brock glared at him, being unsure if Ash would take a surprise whack to him while he was close. Misty spoke up, though, "Uhmm…nothing much." As if on cue, Brock and Misty exchanged looks and spun back to Ash's face staring down at them.
Misty must've forgot she had been supporting her poem with the attached rose peeking over against her bosom. She was about to whip it around to her back when Ash took hold of it. "Doesn't look like nothin'!"
She was still grasping onto the rosy end for dear life, if Ash ever read it…"Jerk! LET GO OF IT NOW! It's very delicate!"
"Bring on the violins…" Brock took out an imaginary violin and acted as if he were performing a dramatic piece with it. Something anyone would get used to if you heard these two go at it.
The paper tore. It had ripped into an even two pieces. "HEY! Itchy! Scratchy! What's going on here?!" Brock jumped up the second he heard a painful tear in a certain piece of paper.
Misty clasped her hands over her mouth, astonished. Her eyes became cloudy and and squinted. She began to sob, "I hate you," she said between gasps and sniffing, stifled noises. The poor girl threw her other half of the paper to his face and sprinted to the bathroom door. Misty pushed it with full force and hurled herself inside while locking the door behind her.
"You blating idiot," Brock began to state bluntly, "what shit in your head to make you do such a thing? Do tell." He lowered his head a tad and folded his toned forearms.
Ash was fiddling with the sheered paper pieces, "I—"
"Hold your speech, hand over the catastrophe." Brock extended his slender arm beside Ash, inviting the poem to rest in his palms.
Ash rotated his body to face Brock; his face completely lackadaisical, "Don't command me like I'm some kid. I don't need to be treated this way."
"Excuse me, but in case you were wondering, your psychotic round-about with Misty just a minute ago, seemed to resemble some childish scheme. You no longer appear as a child does physically, but you have one hell of a juvenile toddler in that brain of yours. Now if you know what's good for you, you'll give me that poem." Brock knew how to pierce those eyes of his through somebody to make them feel like scum.
Ash proceeded to ignore Brock's demand and was transfixed on the fluttered rose petals surrounding the piece it had been attached to. His lip was quivering, though he tried to shun it by clenching his upper row of teeth into his bottom lip. He knew. He knew it was his rose to her. Every bit of her care that had been transfered into each and every petal was now shattered and scattered. And everybody knows, you can't heal a rose's purpose whence it's lost…
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Author's concluding chapter note: Ah hell, I'm sorry, guys. ^^; Twas a sad chapter! I promise though that I will not keep up the 'gripehanger' stuff up. I wanted to make it dramatic since I am the drama queen O_o heehee (booing could be heard from Angie, Dusty, and Leo hollering in the background…) SHAAAAADDDUPPPP! -_-;; (Angie: Yeah, bullshit your way through, bum chum. ^^;;) … ANYWAY! Catch you all in the next chapter. ^^ SORRY IT WAS SO SHORT! I don't think Zarrah reads this fic…but when you do get here from me yelling you to at least go to the bottom of the third chapter…
-:|:-*-HaPpY BiRtHdAy ZaRrAh!!! -*-:|:-
2/25/02! – 14 YeArS!