Part XIII – Unused Emotion
As strange as it seemed, this heartfelt admittance of sorts, touched Misty in such a way that her typical sarcasm coated small talk seemed sacrilegious. She felt that if she were anything but genuine after such a vocalization, that it would destroy the amazing unspoken meaning in his words. Wow, for once she'd actually had to read between the lines with Ash. She was happier than all get out.
"Well, I think that there's really nothing I can say, except, thank you," she said softly to him, prompting him to open his eyes.
"Nothing? Well that's a first. You'd usually have tons to say. Either a joke or something witty," he incited.
"Well, you've never really said anything like that before, so I can't respond as if it is any other conversation," she admitted.
"Should I have not said it?" he asked, concerned.
"No, that's ridiculous! I'm glad you said it, because it . . . well, I'm just glad!" Misty stated firmly.
"So I haven't freaked you out or anything? You're not going to start wailing on me are you?" he verified.
"Of course I wouldn't! I'm hurt you'd even think such a thing. I don't want to fight with you," she shook her head convincingly.
"Sorry, it's just . . . Uh, Mist, do you remember when we used to fight all the time?"
"Yeah, why?"
"I don't know, it's just, don't you ever miss that?"
"What kind of thing to say is that!?" she looked more wounded.
"It's just, why did we used to fight?" he tried to clarify.
"Because you were a block head," she couldn't help herself.
"Aw, c'mon now, seriously?" he looked like he was annoyed at losing the conversation, and a lot more intent on an answer.
She couldn't quite see where he was going with this. Surely, he didn't know why they used to fight. At least not why she always fought with him . . .
There were many metaphorical ways to put it. When they got close she had always seemed overwhelmed with him, like he was rushing through every part of her. That always caused chaos, because she didn't want to come to terms with the sensation, and how it toyed with her reasoning. It could be simply the effect of a storm at sea. Tumultuous waves, clouds blocking the logic, and when lightning struck – well. Everyone knows what happens when lightning meets water.
It rushes through every part of it.
When she'd learned to halt this effect – after becoming jaded about any prospect of affection from the source – she had also developed a better tool against it. Or at least to veil it. Constant derision. It had become gradually easier to make a joke whenever she felt the unwanted emotions coming on.
Frankly, she'd always fought to conceal the truth.
"Misty?" Ash asked, after patiently waiting as she looked pensive.
She had no real intention of answering him; what was she supposed to say?
"I always fought with you because I thought I loved you," And to her best friend? Yeah right. Wait, she did just say it. Well there's a momentary lapse of cowardice! And she'd said it in such a dry tone too. Like it was obvious. Well, she supposed it was, although never to Ash.
"And you thought you freaked me out, huh?" Misty said in a voice that evoked acceptance of her fated doom. She wasn't scared anymore; it wasn't like she could take it back.
She almost felt, relieved. How sadistic.
"Mist?"
"Ash," she intoned dutifully,
"I have to admit something. I've been trying to get you to fight with me for the past while now. But it hasn't been working like it used to," he explained, catching her completely off guard.
She caught the implication behind all the past tenses. He could have read it entirely wrong. Wait a minute – why was he acting like she hadn't just confessed her love for him?! The ignorant little . . .