Disclaimer: If I owned Pokemon, the graveyard in Pallet Town would be full.

I'm sorry, but this drabble doesn't seem to be as good as the others. I put it on anyway, because I can't really identify what's wrong with it! I hope you enjoy it anyway, and please give me some feedback!


This would be a nice place to call "home".

He stares up at the house, with its wooden walls, and sunny-coloured window frames. The overgrown garden had been beautiful once, he can tell. There are small little roses peeking out weakly between knee-high weeds, and the paving stones that form a little pathway to the front door are still painted, in all the colours of a kid's drawing. He can imagine living here. He really can.

"Ash?"

He turns to smile at Misty. "It's really great!"

The tense muscles that had bunched up around her dazzling eyes relax, and she smiles too. Has he done that before? Has he always been the one to smooth away her concerns? He wonders why he ever gave it up.

She's beautiful when she smiles, after all.

"Let's go in," Gary snaps, pushing past him and up the pathway.

Brock laughs. He has a deep laugh, right from the bottom of his throat. "Well, it's a long way from Pewter Town. I'll fix us some lunch."

The inside of the house is pretty enough, and completely feminine. Pikachu jumps off his shoulder and onto the table, setting off an enormous dust cloud. Ash picks him up quickly.

Brock rummages about the kitchen, and it is only as he bangs cupboards open and bangs others shut, that he notices traces of a man. Empty beer cans have been stacked in the corner like a pyramid,by someone who seems to have had time on his hands. The washing machine is stuffed with clothes, still unwashed, as though the man in question has never gotten around to doing them.

He steps into the living room, which is covered in an even thicker layer of dust. A granfather clock in the shape of a tall Clefable stands silently next to the staircase. It isn't working.

"Your room is upstairs, the second door from the stairs," says Gary. He doesn't have to look behind him to confirm the speaker anymore. He's starting to recognise their voices, especially Gary's, because it's such a strange mixture of bitterness, and friendship.

"Gary?"

The other man has already started up the staircase. "What?" he asks, as he pushes open the door that is the second one from the stairs.

Ash follows him up. "Why do we hate each other?"

Gary is quiet for a moment. "It's a long story."

"I've got plenty of time,' he says, walking into the room that is supposed to be his. It's rather small, with a tiny television set in one corner. The bedspread must have been white once upon a time, and the words embroidered on the bottom suggests that it is handmade.

I LOVE MY LITTLE ASH.

He kneels down next to it, touches the frayed ends of the words. He wonders what his mother sounds like. He wonders if she looks exactly like she does in the photo albums Misty brought him. He wonders if she smiled a lot.

"I don't want to tell it to you,' Gary bursts out behind him. It startles him, because he had almost forgotten that he had asked him something in the first place. He looks up at the other man, but he has already turned away.

Ash watches him as he picks up a clock. It is shaped like a Voltorb, but when Gary opens it, the Pidgey inside is lying on its side. Its neck is broken, and a spring extends out of the hole. Pikachu squeaks in dismay, and Ash has the faintest idea that it is talking to him.

"I gave this to you," Gary says, and throws it at him. It rolls onto the floor. "Now, it's broken."

"Guys, lunch time!"

Ash can't find the words to stop him, when he walks out the door.


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