Begin With the End in Mind

by vegetables

The end of the road is never particularly bright. - SundaeShipping, Harley/Max, Harley/Masato.

2. Part Two

Part Two

-Max-

When I woke up, it had been nine o'clock. By the time I actually got out of bed, it had been ten. I was furious at the fact it was still raining. Now I was starting to fear all the flood warnings Goldenrod had been getting for the last few days. It wasn't normal to rain this much, but it also wasn't normal for me to spend such a long time in one city.

After having breakfast in the cafeteria and watching the weather on the TV in there, I was feeling a bit more hopeful for tomorrow. The weather lady said it would be clear skies tomorrow, and I believed it.

Last night, after having gone back to my room, I returned to the lobby around seven to see if any trainers were interested in battling. I ended up battling this girl from Olivine City, who was here to pick up supplies for her father's store. She agreed that the weather was a pain because she wasn't able to get back to Olivine with it raining so heavily. I had beaten her in a three-against-three battle, knocking out her Growlithe, Quagsire and Turtwig fairly quickly. Even though it felt good to win, she seemed so depressed by her loss that I felt bad. I could tell she was hardly a trainer in the first place.

Anyway, though, there really hadn't been much excitement after going separate ways from Harley yesterday. I knew he, too, must have been incredibly angry by the weather today. For some reason or another, I had a feeling he wasn't even awake, wherever he was. He just seemed like the kind of guy who slept until noon every day.

Currently, I was walking down the streets of Goldenrod, protected from the rain by my poncho. I was planning on picking up some Pokémon food at this natural food store I read about in my tourist guidebook. I really had no intention of checking the place out, but since I couldn't think of anything better to do with my day, I figured I needed to go somewhere to amuse myself.

On the way, I ended up walking past the sandwich shop Harley and I ate at the previous day. It wasn't opened currently, but I saw a lady inside setting up for the day. She looked at me as I walked by, and I wondered if she recognized me from yesterday. I continued walking, though, knowing the natural food store was a couple more blocks away. It was interesting to be awake so early and see the amount of people that weren't awake, too. The streets were so blank, and I knew that while their absence was partly due to the weather, the early time was also a factor.

The amount of shops in this city was ridiculous. In just a single block there was a women's clothing shop, a men's clothing shop, a Pokémon clothing shop (for whatever reason the world needed one of those), a grocery shop, a beauty salon, a shoe store and a deli. A whole town worth of stores jammed into one city's street. It could only mean that there were hundreds of repetitive stores in Goldenrod.

Halfway down the next block, I noticed a large hotel. It was taller than the rest of the buildings on the street and had a huge, red awning that just barely ended before the road began in the middle of the block. The hotel was called The Dream Suites, and I laughed at the unoriginality of the title. But, I also wondered if Harley was staying there. It wasn't that far away from the sandwich place we ate at, and he had gone back this direction when we separated.

As I walked by it, I peered inside, astonished by the luxurious lobby. There were two bellhops standing inside and one greeter standing directly next to the entrance. I had never stayed in a place like that. I wouldn't know what to do if I did. It almost seemed pointless to spend so much money on a place you'd only be staying for a couple of nights.

Just a few minutes later, I arrived at the food shop. I went inside, instantly picking up on the spicy and grass-like smell of the place. It was completely decorated in flowers and plants, although the entire middle section of the store had shelves of food and other items. Since no one was at the counter, I helped myself to looking at the selection of foods.

I spent a few minutes browsing until I settled on a small bag of food for all types of Pokémon. There were plenty of mixes for a select type, but I didn't have the money for all of them, and I didn't feel right only buying one type of food for one of my Pokémon. I wondered if Ash knew how lucky he was to have Brock traveling around with him still. Brock could easily whip up something for one of Ash's Pokémon, and Ash wouldn't have to spend a single dime or lift a single finger.

When I got to the counter and rang the small bell to get someone to come out, my mind wandered back to that fancy hotel. I wondered what Harley would do if I visited him. Well, if, of course, that was the hotel he was staying at. Would he be angry seeing me again? Would he even possibly be interested in spending more time with me? I figured the first would be the outcome. He had the entire night to realize he'd lost to me in our match, and I'm sure somewhere along the way he started getting fired up about it.

"Hello there," a man said, coming out from the room behind the counter. "I didn't even realize we had a customer."

"That's okay," I assured. "I found what I was looking for." I placed the small bag on the counter.

"Is this your first time visiting us?" he questioned as he calculated the total. This place was so self-run that they didn't even have a cash register.

"Yeah," I admitted, watching as he scribbled down the total on a chart. He read me my total, and I gave him the money, quick and easy. I thought about how Harley had such a difficult time finding his money yesterday, still astounded by him not having a wallet. Did he really just stuff his money in his bag like that?

"I hope your Pokémon enjoy the food. Thanks for visiting," the man said, handing back the bag to me.

I thanked him, then began walking out of the store with the bag in tow. Just before I exited, I turned around and asked, "Are there any hotels around here?"

The man sat on a stool behind the counter and looked towards me. "Hmm?" he mused.

"Hotels," I repeated.

"Well, let's see," he pondered, resting the weight of his head on his elbow. "There's a ton in Goldenrod, but the only one nearby in just a block away."

"Do you know the name of it?" I asked, removing my backpack from my shoulders and placing the bag of food in it.

"The Dream Suites, I believe," he told me.

I nodded. "Oh, okay. Thanks." And, with that said, I turned and left the store.

So, that hotel was possibly where Harley was staying. I stood outside the store for a moment, contemplating whether or not I was actually going to go through with checking to see if he was there. What would I even do? Go ask the front desk? Would they even tell me if he was staying there or would they assume I was some stalker?

Gosh, why did I even want to find him anyway? Was I really that lonely these days?

Originally, I was sort of planning on visiting some of the other touristy places listed in the guidebook. I only wanted to because I was bored and knew the bad weather would make everything less crowded. But, to tell the truth, I wasn't really interested in anything listed in the book besides the natural food store. I guess if I couldn't find Harley, I would just settle for following through with my original plans.

So, I began heading back towards the hotel. It didn't take long since it was only a block away. As I entered, the two bellhops gave me a weird look, probably wondering what a kid my age was doing in a place like this. I should've felt insulted, but knowing that I truly couldn't afford this kind of hotel, I really had no grounds to feel offended. I took off my poncho in an attempt to look half-presentable, but they kept looking at me funny.

The lobby was so big and wide, it felt like the front desk was miles away. I'm pretty sure it was bigger than the entire Pokémon Center. There were numerous chairs and a coffee table near this gigantic fireplace that seemed to have a fake electric fire. Over on the right side of the lobby was a large hall that seemed to lead to the elevators. On the left side, there was a lounge, dimly lit and—

—and, there he was! Even though I was only half-examining the place, I instantly spotted the man sitting at a round booth alone. I was completely shocked at my luck, but very pleased at the same time. This was indeed the hotel he was at, and thankfully, I didn't even have to work up the courage to approach the front desk. I hardly ever had this easy of a time looking for someone. But, then again, when had I ever really looked for someone?

I was, in a weird sense, excited to see the man, but I still I walked very cautiously over to him, entering the lounge slowly. His eyes were glued to whatever drink he had in his hand, and I noticed he also had a cigarette in his mouth. It stayed trapped between his lips as he tipped it to allow some smoke out of his mouth. He sucked in the rest then held the stick between his fingers as he took a sip from the small glass. I realized that he must have been drinking alcohol, and I was slightly taken aback by the realization, and not because it was so early, but because it made me consider his age.

Due to my slow movements, I was hardly even near his booth. I bit my bottom lip, my heart suddenly beating very quickly. There was no reason I should have been so nervous. Sure, he was a weirdo, but I was the one who went out of my way to look for him, so I shouldn't have been so hesitant to reveal my presence.

"Um, hi," I finally said, nearing his booth and starting to rustle around the poncho in my hands.

The man's eyes slowly rose, not exactly sure if the voice was for him. When he realized it was me, however, his rather blank and depressed look vanished in less than a second, and he shouted:

"Oh, Maximus!"

I flushed, not liking how loud he said that. I just stood there, not sure what to do now.

"Hi," I repeated.

He placed the glass filled with light brown liquid on the table. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe in coincidences," he told me. "You came to find me." It was not a question.

"I… uh, yeah, I did," I admitted. "Can I sit down?"

Harley laughed. "Yes!" he answered.

I did so, sliding my way into the round booth, making myself sit across from the man. "It's still raining out," I said.

Harley gave a rather dull look. "It sure is," he groaned, running a hand through his hair in annoyance. He then inhaled some of the smoke, blowing it out of his nose.

The smoke traveled in my direction, and it smelt rather disgusting. But, I didn't cough, like I had yesterday. I felt a stifle in my throat, but I prevented a cough from actually releasing. I must have looked like a retard doing it because Harley laughed at me.

"Isn't it…" I trailed off for a second, noticing how Harley took another gulp of his drink. "Isn't it a little early to be, um, drinking?" I motioned my eyes toward his now finished beverage.

Harley didn't seem to like my question. He rolled his eyes at me. "I suppose it's too early for a cigarette, too?" he mocked, blowing a heavy amount into my face just to annoy me.

I fanned most of it away and glared at him. "I went out of my way to find you," I spewed, "the least you could do is be nice to me."

"Oh, Maximus, you can be such a child," he criticized. When a waiter walked by, he rose his empty glass at the man, signaling for a refill. The waiter nodded and continued on his way.

"Can you at least stop calling me that?" I asked.

"Aww, why? It's so fun to say." The man grinned. "Maax-ah-muus," he pronounced slowly.

"Stop!" I ordered, biting my lip. "Listen, I didn't come here to fight with you."

Harley raised both his eyebrows and said, "No? Then what?"

"I-I don't know…" I began stuttering out, and I truly did not know why I was so nervous. "I just thought… maybe…"

"Maybe the two of us could paint this fucking town red?" Before he waited on my answer, he continued, "You know, kiddo, I'm not really in the mood."

I frowned, feeling very disappointed by being blown off. "W-Why not?"

Harley smacked his lips together, discarding the seriousness of my question. "The weather has depressed me. I think I'm going to stay inside and drink." Just as he said that, the waiter returned with a new glass of the golden liquor. He placed it in front of Harley, and the man took a small sip.

I continued to frown. "So, what exactly is that?" I asked, looking at the liquor.

"Brandy. Damn good Brandy at that." He leaned the glass towards me. "Want a sip?"

I gaped. "N-No!"

Harley took another sip, or a swig, really, and then asked, "Go anywhere this morning?"

"No," I lied, knowing he really didn't care if I had. Plus, he would've just made fun of me for going to a natural food store for Pokémon. "Today's my dad's birthday," I then blurted out.

"Ahh, Norman's birthday, hmm?"

The man was asking way too many questions, and I assumed he was starting to get drunk. He had a very slow reaction to my statements, and his words were dragging out. I was sort of scared, as I had never been around a drunk before. My parents never drank, but now I wished they had so I would know whether or not I should leave Harley alone.

"Yeah," I shrugged. "I actually forgot, but my mom reminded me yesterday when I called her." Now I was just talking to talk, knowing Harley probably wasn't listening anyway.

Harley pursed his lips but still gave a grin of acknowledgment. "Did you get your daddy anything?" he slurred.

"Uh, no, actually, since I forgot all about it. I probably shouldn't even bother now. Giving someone a late present just embarrasses yourself." I tried laughing at my statement to lighten up the mood around us, but I failed.

Harley gave a very slow nod. Somehow, in the short time I was talking to him, he managed to get drunk quicker than how ever long he was here before I came. I just stared at him for a while, noticing how he wasn't even giving me eye-contact. His head was slumped downwards, and he looked a bit dizzy.

I sighed and slid out from the booth. It took a while for him to react, but when he did, he did so violently. He grabbed my wrist, his nails digging into my skin as he pulled me back down. I fell back into the booth roughly, my hip banging into the table and causing some of his liquor to splash out of the glass.

"Oww—!" I yelped. "Let me go!" I ordered.

But, he kept his grip. "I didn't say you had to leave," he said, sounding a bit more coherent.

"All right," I snapped. "Then let me go," I repeated, shaking off his grip.

Harley finally let go. "So, what do you want to do?" he asked.

I blinked. "I thought you said you weren't in the mood."

"Well, yes, but that was before I realized you were going to throw a tantrum about it," he explained.

"Tantrum? I wasn't—" I stopped mid-sentenced and sighed. "Never mind."

Harley finished off his cigarette and extinguished the last of it on the ashtray. He leaned back and said, "I suppose I'm going to have to go out and do something with you, as I can't imagine you'd want to sit in here and drink with me all day."

"Yeah, you're right, I wouldn't," I told him bitterly. "Even if I was allowed to," I magnified further.

"Oh, Maximus," he sighed, reaching out and touching my shoulder.

I stiffened at his touch, not sure why he was doing it. He patted my shoulder a couple of times before he returned to leaning against the back of the booth. Honestly, he seemed to be a mix of tiredness and drunkenness. I wasn't sure I wanted to spend my time with him anymore.

"You know," I began softly, "maybe you should just rest today. I do have some errands to run."

"Of course you do," he laughed. "I imagine you have to go visit all your little friends in this city, too, huh?"

Now I couldn't tell what was up with him. Maybe he was cranky, too. I wanted to get up and leave again, but I was scared of what he might do. I looked down at my wrist, which was light pink where he grabbed me. I could even see light engravings of where his nails had been. The whole situation depressed me all of the sudden.

"Harley, maybe I really should go," I tried explaining.

Harley removed his green hat, placing it next to him. He ran his left hand through his hair again, either trying to straighten it or just busy himself. "If you feel that way, I hope you realize you wasted a lot of time coming here."

I had already realized that. I was about to say something, but then paused, watching a young girl and a man, who I presumed were father and daughter, enter the lounge. The girl looked about my age, and her father appeared to be some sort of businessman. They both sat a table far from us, but I could tell they were talking happily about something.

Harley noticed where I was looking and asked, "Maximus, have you ever had a girlfriend?"

"W-What?" I blurted out, turning bright red as I looked back at him.

A very smooth and slightly insolent grin formed on the man. "Just wondering," he told me.

I continued to blush. "I… I'm twelve."

"Is that an excuse?" he pondered. "Not a very good one, if it is."

"Well, have you—?" I paused, knowing my question wasn't going in the right direction. I was suddenly very confused, and my mind seemed to fog.

Why would Harley even ask a thing like that? I wanted to rebuttal with the same question, but, well, I sort of knew Harley would never have had a girlfriend… and the whole thing just made me feel so uncomfortable. I mean, that was such a rude thing to assume and what if I was assuming all the wrong things about the man? I wanted to bury my face in my hands, preventing him from seeing my continual glow of red.

Harley let out a very loud laugh. He even slammed his hand on the table to show additional amusement. "No," he stated. It took me a while to realize he was answering the question I never quite got out. "No, and that will be a phenomenon I hope never to be familiar with," he explained.

Now I wasn't so much blushing for being asked such a personal question but for having him admit something like that to me. There were some things I just never really wanted to think about. But, for some reason, words just kept coming out of my mouth:

"So, that um, means… yeah…"

"Yes, Maximus," he said between stifled laughs. "Yes, I'm a fag."

"I, uh… oh." I fidgeted in my seat a bit more but tried to get myself to relax. "Okay," I shrugged.

Harley gave me a smile, but I wasn't sure why. I wasn't even sure what to say, really. And, the fact he used such a rude label just boggled me even more. Those were the kinds of words my parents taught me never to say, but I then heard my father use when he was angry about something. I put a hand to the back of my head and tried to return a smile at the man.

For whatever reason, Harley seemed to realize and accept my discomfort. He stood up, balancing himself on the back of the booth and sliding out from the table. I did the same, wondering if Harley needed help standing. But, when he managed to stand up fully, he seemed to be doing fine on his own.

"I'm not drunk," he told me.

He was lying, but I shrugged and repeated, "Okay."

"Now, honestly,"—he turned to me as he spoke—"what are we going to do?" He put back on his hat, straightening it on his head to get it in the right position.

"I don't know," I said once more. I began rustling around the poncho in my hands again.

Harley took notice of it for the first time and gave a disapproving look. "Max," he started, in a very serious tone, "do you realize how stupid you look in that?"

I furrowed my brow. "It's a poncho. How am I supposed to look?"

"Exactly—it's a poncho, and no one should have to wear one," he clarified. "Now that puts something on our agenda."

"What…?" I wondered.

"Buying you an umbrella," he said. "It's funny, in a way. I mean, it's Norman's birthday and everyone should be giving him gifts and yet he's neglected to give his own son an umbrella." He grabbed my poncho, holding it up and shaking his head.

I just stared at him, puzzled.

"Oh, how could a father send his son out into the world with one of these?" he asked.

I grabbed my poncho back. "Stop," I said. "Why do you have to criticize something that doesn't matter?"

Harley sighed, seeming to regain some of his precision. He still appeared a bit befuddled, regardless. "I want to get you a blue umbrella."

I raised my arms in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Maybe a green one," he went on.

"Stop!" I shouted.

He did. And, he looked down at me, not saying a single word. Harley just kept his gaze on me, seeming very interested in my stillness as I stared back up at him with a creased brow of puzzlement.

The purple-haired man pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips, asking, "How old is Norman going to be today?"

"Thirty-four," I informed him. "Why?"

"And, you're twelve?" he wondered, ignoring my own question.

"Yeah. Why?" I repeated.

Again, he looked at me, tilting his head slightly. "Because you look like him," he said. "And, it's interesting."

"I don't see why," I commented. "He's my father, after all."

With Harley's affirmation of his sexuality, I was starting to get the feeling his admiration for my father was a little bit more. I could imagine him swooning over my dad the same way girls did for movie stars, and it disturbed me.

"Well, duh, Maximus," he droned. He then slapped a hand down on my shoulder again. "Now, let's look for an umbrella shop!"

I really wanted to say no, but he had already managed to stand and was walking away. I followed slowly, looking at the father and daughter over at the other side of the lounge just before we exited into the lobby. It seemed so bright compared to the dim lounge, and when I looked at Harley, I could see he had circles under his eyes. I had a feeling this man was in a constant state of tiredness his entire life, never getting enough sleep and never attempting.

"Harley?" I called out, stopping. He became still and turned around. Now I lost the courage to talk to him as he gave me that same weird look. "Um, are you okay?"

The man's wide eyes closed a bit as he readied himself for a serious answer. "I'm tired," he told me once again. "How many times must I say that?"

"I don't want an umbrella," I said. "I'm being serious."

Harley finally seemed to realize what I had said. He bit his bottom lip, and I wondered if he was going to tell me to go away. I wouldn't have had a problem with that actually, because I was starting to feel there was no point being here in the first place. I had intended to spend some time with him, seeing as how we were both bored, just like yesterday, but today he was different, and in a sense, sort of scary.

"Do you mind if I wash my face?" Harley wondered. But, he didn't wait for an answer. He began walking towards the elevators over on the right side of the lobby, heading back for his room.

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to come with him. He made it to where the elevators were, pressing the call button and just stood there, waiting. When he looked back, over his shoulder, to see if I was coming, I slowly made my way over to him.

"I've never been in a hotel like this," I told him, just to avoid the silence.

"I figured," he responded. "Your friends were so cheap."

"Cheap? Ash and Brock?"

"Yeah, those two," Harley nodded. "I'll never understand why you hung out with them."

"They were my friends," I defended.

"Lousy choice of some," Harley muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's not like you have any friends," I claimed. "And, boy, if you do, I don't even want to know who they are."

This made Harley laugh. An honest, timid laugh that made him lean his head back as he let out his amusement. He extended his arm towards me, and at first I thought he was going to hit me, but he ended up patting my head. Feeling degraded, I moved away, and as his hand slid away, he ran his fingers through my hair. I frowned, not sure if he meant to do that. Standing next to him, I felt so small. He was literally, like, six feet tall, and he towered over me.

The elevator arrived, and we both entered. It was even brighter than the lobby. Mirrors decorated the walls, and I felt that no matter where I looked, the lights were glaring back at me. Harley lazily leaned against the wall, possibly not being able to stand well on his own. If he wasn't drunk, like he claimed, what was wrong with him? I had never seen someone become a complete mess just by a lack of sleep. Some people became cranky or slow, but Harley was just loopy and might as well have been drunk.

I looked at the panel of buttons, seeing he had pressed level eight earlier. There were ten levels all together. I wondered what the view looked like from the top.

"I need to go to bed," Harley muttered.

I said nothing. Was I supposed to respond to that anyway?

Well, now I couldn't because we reached his floor. Harley basically stumbled out of the elevator, looking both left and right before he decided on which direction his room was located. Again, I followed with caution. He ended up finding his room, sliding a cardkey through the lock and opening the door. He actually waited for me, holding the door open and everything. I walked into the room, instantly disliking the fact all the lights were turned off. It was already so gloomy and sunless outside; there was no reason the indoors needed to match the mood.

"Be right back," the man said, walking into the bathroom diagonal from the entrance. He left the door open as he turned off the faucet and splashed his face with water.

I walked over to the large, sliding glass door and gazed out. The cement ledge blocked any good view, so I slid open the door, stepping outside onto the small balcony and peering over the ledge to see the city. The view wasn't that spectacular. I could see the Radio Tower, and, further off in the distance, Whitney's Gym and plantation.

I was getting wet from the rain, but luckily it was just drizzling. I was glad because that meant tomorrow could be clear skies. I heard a grunt from inside and turned to see Harley walking back into the main room, throwing his hat and cigarettes onto the floor and collapsing face-first on the unmade bed.

I went back inside, closing the door. I felt like asking him if he was okay again, but I already knew the answer, and he might have gotten mad at me for repeating myself. I examined the rest of the room, liking the colorful scheme of blues and grays. There was a television, coffee table and occasional chair behind a wall pillar, just opposite of the bed.

Harley mumbled something, which I couldn't make out, but he began moving around in the bed until he got himself under a single sheet. On the nightstand near the bed, I saw a bottle of water and a magazine. On the floor, just in front of the bed, were the rest of the bed sheets and a sock.

I sighed, not sure what to do.

xxxxx

-Harley-

I woke up coughing. I somehow managed to choke on my own saliva as I slept, causing me to sit up in a rush as I coughed and hacked my way back to a clear throat. When my breathing settled I noticed the disgusting taste in my mouth. I could taste the staleness of whiskey and dry salvia, and it sickened me.

It was five o'clock. For a moment, I thought it was five in the morning, and I was going to lie right back down. But, then I remembered having been awake earlier and being in the lounge. Then I remembered Max being there. Was that some drunken illusion, or was I remembering the previous day I had with him? No… wait, I remember him being in my room.

I shook my head, remembering somewhat hazily my very real conversation with him in the lounge. And, him coming up here with me and being out on the balcony. I got out of bed, peering around the small wall that separated the bedroom and living room areas. On the couch, I saw Max, lying down without with glasses and his eyes shut. The TV was on, but muted. For goodness sake, had he really spent his entire morning here?

I walked quietly over to the couch, peering over the backside of it and looking down at the boy. His eyelashes flickered in reaction to whatever dream he was having, and without his stupid glasses, he looked a bit less dorky and a lot more innocent. For whatever reason, I wanted to reach down and run my hand through his hair.

Actually, come to think of it, I remember doing that earlier. And, talking about his father quite a bit. And,admitting my nonexistent interest in the female specimen. Great. Had I molested this poor kid earlier or something? That would explain why he looked so dejected and exhausted. But, sadly, I seriously doubted I went that far. Now that was something I would remember.

I chuckled, even as awful as that thought might have seemed. My small laugh stirred the boy for a second, but he continued to snooze.

'How old is Norman going to be today?'

I remember asking that to Max, who answered, "Thirty-four."

Thirty-four-fucking-years-old. That was ten years older than moi. Considering how I obsessed over that man at times, it should've been creepy. But, it wasn't it. At least not to me!

Max was—what did he say before? twelve?—and yet I could see every goddamn feature from his father right there on his pretty little face.

Pretty? Oh, goodness.

I walked away, going into the bathroom to brush my teeth. On the counter I could see excess water, unwiped and left to cause rust on the lovely faux marble stone. Max had probably done that, as I always wiped down the bathroom sink before I left. What a messy little fuck.

When I was finished brushing my teeth, I combed out my hair and straightened up my clothing. Then, I returned to the main room and noticed Max was now facing the other way, his face pressed against the back of the couch. Deciding it was time for him to wake-up, I approached the couch and jabbed him effortlessly with my right hand. I had to do it several times before he opened his eyes.

Confused, the boy blinked several times before his vision cleared and he realized where he was and who had awoken him. A second of fear, or something of the like, flashed on his face and he became so unsure of what he thought I was going to do or say.

"Enjoy your nap?" I asked.

"I… um… I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" I repeated. Then I smiled. He must have thought I was angry with him. "Ha, don't be." I sat down on the coffee table as he lifted himself up, leaning against the back of the sofa.

"What time is it?" he asked, squinting.

"It's five o'clock," I said, reaching for his glasses on the coffee table. A deluded part of me wanted to put them on him myself. But, I killed the urge by just handing them to him. "Looks like we wasted our day."

"I was awake for a while," he told me. "After you fell asleep I wasn't sure whether or not I should leave you, so just watched TV."

Leave me? Did he really think I was dying or something? Even though I had been drinking early in the morning, I hadn't necessarily been drunk. It was just a mix of not sleeping last night and a tinsy bit of alcohol. After Max and I had eaten, I came back here and relaxed, but ended up falling asleep until midnight. As hard as I tried, I couldn't get back to sleep. So, I had spent most of the night doing absolutely nothing until I decided to go downstairs to the bar.

"That was sweet," I decided on saying. "Do you want some food, Maximus?"

The boy gave a disappointed expression at the sound of the nickname. But, he managed to say in a rather pleasant tone: "You already treated me to a meal last night. I'm okay."

I got up and walked over to the hotel phone, picking it up. "Don't you ever know how to just accept the kindness of people?" I mused, dialing for room service.

Max said something quietly, probably something rude that was better for me not to hear. I wanted to tell him to shut up, but someone answered the phone. I made a quick and simple order by just asking them to bring up two plates of whatever they thought was a nice dinner meal. I hung up and walked back over to the couch, on the way, picking up my cigarettes, which were on the floor next to my hat. I plopped myself down next to Max on the couch, and I could feel him stiffen at being relatively close to me.

"Tell me," I voiced, putting my feet on the coffee table as I removed a cigarette from the box, "how do you think May would react if she knew I had you in my hotel room?"

Max's eyes widened, very obviously not liking how I phrased that one. "I don't know," he answered miserably. "Why do you like talking about her so much?"

I snorted and threw my cigarette box on the table. "Oh, believe me, I don't. It's the thought of blowing her casket that I like."

Max muttered something, reaching for the remote and unmuting the television. "Oh, and by the way," he said, grabbing a flyer underneath several magazines on the coffee table, "I found this."

I took the flyer he handed to me. I couldn't recall where it came from, but it was a just a stupid advertisement for a Contest in Olivine City. "That's not why I'm going," I immediately said.

"I figured, but you should enter it anyway," he urged in a bright tone.

"I do not want to," I huffed, trying to search my pockets for my lighter. I couldn't find it, though. I figured it had fallen out while I was asleep, and I was far too lazy to get up and search through the sheets. "Fuck, forget it," I hissed, throwing the stick onto the table, next to the box.

"Oh, I also found this," Max said, reaching into his pocket and revealing a dull, but nonetheless, golden-colored rectangular item.

I yelped in excitement when I realized it was my missing lighter. And, not the one I just lost, but the zippo one, whose disappearance caused me to carry around that unsightly disposable thing. "Oh, goodness!" I continued, taking it from the boy. "You have no idea how long I've been looking for that one. Where'd you come across it?"

"It was underneath the sofa cushion," he informed.

I raised an eyebrow. "What, did you search the entire place while I was asleep?" I questioned. "But, never mind that. Thank you." I reached over and retrieved my cigarette again, lighting it up.

"It's just a lighter," he muttered. "I don't get why you're freaking out about it."

"Because, Maximus," I explained, "it's just about the prettiest lighter I ever owned."

Max shrugged, watching as I blew smoke from my nose and put my feet back on the table. I exhaled deeply, officially relaxed.

The boy continued to stare, and from the corner of my eye, I allowed myself to enjoy how he looked at me. I would've laughed if someone told me a few weeks—or days—ago that I would not only be spending time with May's little brother, but also fighting the urge to make a playful move on the kid. Even though I was intrigued by Max's resemblance to Norman, I wasn't sure if that was all. Was I repressing some kind of urge, or did I just want to screw with this kid's head and make him think I was trying to find some substitute for his father?

Needing to say something, I voiced, "So, did your daddy teach you if you smoking is soooo immoral?"

Max huffed. "Not in so many words," he admitted, "but I do think it's pretty nasty."

"Nasty, hmm, that's cute," I mocked, his choice of a word entertaining.

The two of us just sort of sat there for a good ten minutes, not saying a single word. The smell of my cigarette was filling the room, but Max didn't seem too bothered.

Eventually, I looked up when I heard a knock at the door. I rose from the sofa and went to open it. The male servant routinely asked if this was correct room and then handed me the tray of food. I was too lazy to get my bag and find money for a tip, so I let him go empty-handed. As I carried the tray into the room I noticed Max was standing up now, probably just wanting to be polite. I placed the tray down on the coffee table, lifting the two metal covers from the plates and revealing the food.

"I never thought hotels actually did this kind of stuff," Max admitted, looking down at the plates filled with steamed vegetables, rice, fried tofu, and slices of rye bread.

Smiling, I patted the boy's shoulder, which made him flinch. His reactions to physical contact were interesting, and gave me all the more reason to keep testing his limits. I kneeled down in front of the coffee table, sliding my legs under it as I set-up my plate in front of me. There was a large phial of iced water and two glasses.

"I need a drink," I sighed, extinguishing my cigarette and intending to save the rest for later.

Max was busy sitting down next to me, which made me smile, knowing he didn't want to eat out on the balcony or roof… or street.

"You mean alcohol?" he wondered afterwards.

"I sure do," I said, getting up again and going to the nightstand near the bed. I opened the small cabinet underneath it, where a few glass bottles of alcohol, courtesy of this lovely hotel, were stored. I grabbed the unopened vodka and brought it back to the table with me.

"Why—?" Max began, but stopped himself. He shook his head, grabbing a fork and messing with his fried tofu. He took a bite and smiled. "Mmm, this is really good."

"Only the best for Maximus," I teased, pouring the vodka into my own glass.

As Max poured himself some water, he took notice of the vodka's clear resemblance to his own drink. He also watched as I stabbed some vegetables onto my fork. Then watched as I ate them.

"Why are looking at me?" I asked with my mouth full.

Max's eyes narrowed as he thought about something. "Sorry," he apologized.

I smiled at this. Oh, wouldn't it be fun if he were perhaps having the same issues I was? Maybe then I wouldn't feel the need to actually screw with the kid's mind and instead move things in the direction of getting to screw him. I thought about this fully for the first time and bit my lip, enjoying the notion a lot more than I expected. Exactly how would Max react to those kind of touches? Would he fight me on it or would he be curious?

I gave a quick huff, stretching out my shoulder muscles to try and relax. Honestly, now, I didn't anticipate having such a stimulating reaction to it all. I gave a short glance over at the boy but had to look away, knowing I would be tempted to continue with my thoughts. Or possibly put them into motion.

Despite everything he was going through with May, I was pretty shocked Max didn't want to run and hide from me. Well, in a way, he had after our battle, but we did end up eating lunch together, and then, this morning, he went through the trouble of tracking me down. Max had never forgiven me for what I did to May, but now the past didn't even seem to register with him. I could very well construe this into something else just to justify what I wanted to do to him all of the sudden, but that seemed like something only a guilty child molester would do. But, anything was possible. I mean, now that Max knew my faggotry was official, why did he want to continue hanging around me? There weren't a lot twelve year-olds who would.

"Do you like the food?"

I blinked, realizing Max had asked a question. "Yes, yes," I answered, almost dismissing the inquiry entirely.

"Are you okay?" he then wondered. He looked at my glass, checking to see if I was getting drunk, but I hadn't taken a single sip. For goodness sake, were my thoughts really messing with my overall behavior?

"I'm fine," I assured. "Just not that hungry all the sudden." I threw down my fork and leaned against the couch. As uncomfortable as I was on the floor, I wanted to continue sitting next to Max.

Max gave me a slightly concerned look, and I could tell he was pondering whether he had anything to do with it. And, he damn well did, that stupid fuck. He was close to the coffee table as he ate, and since I was further away, leaning against the couch, his back was to me. I was glad.

But, even with his back towards me, I still found features to look at. His short hair, long in the back, wasn't enough to cover the nap of his neck, nor the ruff of his collared, green shirt. I could see his pale skin there, so completely smooth and clean. Of course, his short-sleeved shirt revealed his arms, and with his shorts, his legs were exposed… but his neck, oh my, his neck was just captivating. I could imagine the warmth of it if I put my hand there. Even better, I knew I could feel his pulse there, too.

His green shirt was rather long, ending far after his hips so that he sat on an inch or two of it at the moment. That was for his own good, since I imagined that if his weight weren't on it, I would slide my fingers underneath the fabric, letting my hand glide over his back and up to that warm, smooth, clean neck of his.

There was a distinct stir in my lower stomach, and goddamn, did I ever feel the need to attend to it. Instead, I busied myself by grabbing my glass of vodka and drinking, but of course, since I was beginning to assume Max was a little malicious faunlet, he stared at me as I did so. He must have been a faunlet, because he then licked his lips, wiping away the sauce from the vegetables, which just coincidentally ended up getting around his mouth, because, oh yes, he was trying to provoke my thoughts.

I had an awfully unfortunate lack of self-control. I should've gotten a medal for not grabbing Max's collar and forcing our chests to fuse together as I claimed his mouth… his modest little mouth that had been covered in that tangy sauce because the world was a bitch of a torture chamber that wanted me to go mad… What a cock-tease this boy was!

Max had his attention focused on the television. There was a commercial on, but he didn't seem all that interested. I was, meanwhile, still dealing with my increasing carnal desires, trying outrageously hard not to think about Max. So, for some reason, I thought about May, which, admittedly, at least helped that certain stir just plummet, but the girl's horridness made me wonder why Max had been blessed with their father's flawlessness and not his sister, too. Whether or not she had didn't change the fact she possessed a cunt, but at least some women were pretty and decent. That Team Rocket member, Jessie—who had the biggest ego in universe and was guilty of at least twenty stereotypical womanly faults—at least took the time to look decent.

Oh, Team Rocket, now there was a subject I could breach without feeling completely idiotic. I waited several more minutes for Max to finish the vegetables (in case he chose to turn around and display to me his mouth dabbed with that sauce) and then spoke up:

"Whatever happened to that Team Rocket gang?"

To my surprise, Max didn't stiffen. But, Jessie and what's-his-name were never much of threat anyway, so they couldn't possibly incite fear just by the mention of their name. I'm sure they would've liked to think so, but, well, the truth was their own lame fault.

Max turned (how smart I was waiting for him to finish eating!) and answered, "I don't know. If they're around, they're probably still chasing Ash."

"Oh, so you're not in touch with them anymore?" I concluded. My God, Max must have been incredibly lonely these days.

"Brock and Ash? Not really." He shrugged. "They're still traveling together, though. Brock sent me a guidebook before I came here, though. Do you want to see it?"

I snorted and shook my head. "No, it's okay," I answered. Then, "Those two are still traveling together, eh?"

Max caught my tone and defended, "It's not like that, no, Harley."

I should've laughed at how he defended the two's supposedly platonic relationship, but I was too caught up on how he said my name. That was certainly delightful. But, I decided to play with the subject more by asking, "Then why on earth would those two still be traveling together after, what, four years?"

"They've been traveling together longer than that," Max said, but he quickly realized his statement really hadn't done much to support his defense. "They're with this girl named Hikari¹ now," he retried.

I just chuckled at how hard he was trying to defend the two. Either he was sincerely bothered or perhaps pondering the situation for himself. I didn't want to make the kid strain himself with the never-ending possibilities so I said:

"Don't worry, Maximus. I'm very doubtful about those two. Take it from me."

Max narrowed his eyes. He had done this before at the lounge when we stumbled into the subject, and I was slightly despondent at how easily he was getting uncomfortable. Then again, he had no problem hanging around me at seven o'clock at night.

Seven o'clock. Oh, my. It was dark out now. Was Max going to go back to the Pokémon Center?

"Hey, you know," I began, clearing my throat and running a hand through my hair, "you can stay here if you want."

Max gave a puzzled expression. "Huh?"

"You can stay here tonight, if you want," I explained. "It's late and some freak might jump out and mug you for your poncho if you go back to the Center."

Startled by the offer, Max looked over to his backpack. "Oh… Well, I have all my stuff anyway…"

"Is that a yes?" I wondered.

Max flushed—oh, now what could that mean, I wonder!—and gave an almost invisible shrug. "Um, okay…"

I grinned, showing my teeth slightly. Well, if inviting the boy to stay the night was enough to make him turn colors, then I might've had a very consensual case on my hands. Though, this kid got so uncomfortable by even the slightest things, I doubted it meant anything huge. Maybe I should've told him that it was regulatory to have my guests sleep in the same bed as me, just to see how he'd react. That might have gotten me smacked. Oh, but the idea of Max trying to hit me was more fun than threatening.

"This is fantastic," I dramatized. "Have you ever had a sleepover, Maximus? Do you know your proper conduct? If so, I hope you're okay with the fact this certain host isn't too keen on handing over his bed to guests."

Max gaped, confused if he was really supposed to answer any of that. He finally just decided on the last one and said, "I can sleep on the couch."

Oh, how I wanted to argue that! But, was I really going to have little Maximus in my hotel room all night? Goddamn, the thought thrilled me. But, if I was going to break the give-your-guest-the-bed courtesy than the least I could do was not sneak up behind the boy and give him a surprise wank. Unless, of course, he wanted me to…

"I'm all done," Max announced, placing down his fork and wiping his mouth with one of the cloth napkins.

"Hmm, I guess I am, too," I grunted, sitting up properly and replacing the metal cover over my plate. I then grabbed the half-burnt cigarette and relit it, pleased to be able to do so with my favorite lighter.

Max readjusted his position, sitting cross-legged and stuttering out, "Harley, um… thanks for all of this. The food—from today and yesterday—and um, now for letting me stay here. Those beds at the Pokémon Center can be pretty uncomfortable."

And, so could couches. I knew a solution to both, Maximus.

Smiling, I just said, "I had to let you stay here. It's the least I can do to thank you for finding my darling lighter."

Max shrugged. "That was just luck."

I finally just decided to fuck it all to hell and extended my arm, wrapping it around the boy's shoulder playfully and pushing him against my side. I rattled him a little, saying, "See, now maybe you'll finally realize Harley isn't as bad as you thought," I stated. Even with my arm wrapped around the boy, I took a drag of my cigarette, having to lean in so our cheeks were close and the crook of my arm was pressed against his mouth.

Max moved his face back and slowly squirmed his way out of my possession. It was short, but enough to stabilize me and possibly prevent me from jumping on the boy later in the night. And, despite the limited time I had his mouth pressed into my arm, I realized how soft and moist those lips of his were. My own lips, which were guilty of being occasionally chapped and dry, would have been a nice contrast against his. Fuck, I wanted to corrupt that kid into doing some pretty outlandish things with me!

Having lost all physical contact with Max, I inhaled my cigarette fully. I looked at Max's plate of food, most of the food eaten except for the piece of bread, which had a single bite taken off. I reached for it, instead of my own, and ate the rest. Max seemed disturbed by the fact I ate his leftovers, and that was half the reason I did it—the other half being I wanted to taste where his mouth had been. I stood up afterwards, grabbing the tray and walking to the door.

"Be a dear and open the door for me," I told Max, knowing I wouldn't be able to balance the tray with one hand.

Max listened and stood up to help me. He opened the door, watching me as I placed the tray into the hall.

"They'll come and get that," I assured, soothing Max's disapproving stare.

"Have you been to the Game Corner here?" the boy blurted out as I walked back over to the coffee table.

I gave a shrug as I picked up the water phial, which I kept in case I wanted to drink something normal, and placed it on top of a magazine to prevent water rings. "Believe it or not, I'm not the gambling type."

"Hmm," Max voiced, obviously surprised.

"Why? Do you want to play with your luck?" I wondered. "You're not old enough."

"No, I don't and wouldn't want to anyway," he declared. "I just figured since you seem so, I dunno, into that kind of stuff."

"Losing money?" I concluded. "The only people interested in that are the wee old men and ladies who are about to expire soon anyway and don't give a flying fuck they might be throwing away their money."

Max rolled his eyes. He was quiet for a moment, but suddenly, some kind of revelation slapped him against the face. "Oh, great," he muttered, putting his face in his hands. "I forgot to call my dad!"

"Oh, my! Norman was expecting a call from his precious son?"

Max sighed, rolling his eyes at me and possibly for himself.

"Well, you can still call him," I said, gesturing towards the phone. "It's not a gaudy videophone, but it will do, no?"

The boy seemed so disappointed in himself. I was actually sort of proud I had been enough to distract him from calling his own father. I must have been quite the company.

"They can't, like, track the number, can they?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

I laughed. "Do they have a reason to? Does Maximus have a dark past of staying in places he's not supposed to?"

Max had no time to analyze my criticism. "I don't want them to know I'm calling from some five-star hotel."

"Four-star, actually," I corrected. I pointed towards the bathroom. "See? No tub."

"Whatever," the boy dismissed. He walked over to the phone and dialed the number. For a moment, I thought he might have been retarded because he dialed exhaustingly slow. But, he finished sooner or later and waited for someone to pick-up.

I sat on the couch, finishing my cigarette and throwing it on the ashtray to die out on its own. I contemplated shouting out something dirty when Max began talking, but that was too cruel.

"Hello?" I heard him say. After a pause, he said, "Yeah, it's me."

He went on, apologizing for how he hadn't called earlier, lying to them by saying he was busy training. So, he could be devilish, after all. That was good to know.

"How was the party?" he asked.

I looked over my shoulder to see Max was now sitting on my bed, very close to my pillow. I grinned and stood back up so I could casually walk over to the bed and sit down on it myself.

"She did? Oh…"

She? I figured they were talking about May as I could clearly hear a change in Max's tone. Hmm, despite having changed my motive with spending time with Max, I had to admit I was still heavily interested in knowing what happened between the two little siblings.

"Well, I'm glad you had a nice birthday, Dad. I'm really sorry for calling so late."

I smiled, falling backwards on the bed, far enough away from Max not to scare him, but close enough to personally thrill myself.

"Okay, Dad, I promise. Happy birthday. Bye." Max hung up the phone immediately and sighed shortly after. "You said you had no siblings, right?" he asked.

"Nope, sure don't," I reaffirmed. He obviously wanted to share some kind of story only those who had siblings could understand, but I figured I could give him some empathy. "Why, Maximus?"

"Never mind," he grunted.

Still lying on the bed, I rolled onto my stomach, reaching far out to place my hand on the boy's bare knee. "I can guess that your daddy just made you feel a bit less important than May," I deduced, feeling a shiver through Max's body as my hand continued to lie on his warm knee. Ah, it felt quite pleasant to touch him.

To my utter surprise, Max did not get up. He continued to sit there. "Well, May didn't forget to get my dad a present, so I'm sure he's much more pleased with her than me at the moment."

I raised an eyebrow. "It didn't sound like you two were arguing just now. In fact, you sounded quite chipper. I doubt he really gives a damn about a present anyway."

Max gave a quick laugh at himself. "I think you're right. But, I don't know what's wrong with me. I get so jealous of May sometimes, and I never used to before. And, I can't stand it when I call my parents and they mention her, because I didn't call to hear about May, I called to talk to them."

I was glad Max wasn't looking at me, because I gave the widest grin as I heard him express his envy and intimidation over his sister. I moved a single finger over his knee, though I knew he wouldn't understand it as physical comfort.

"You're really not the right person to talk to about May," Max groaned.

"True!" I exclaimed, turning over onto my back again and losing the contact with Max. I was closer to Max now, so I raised my arm, placing my hand on his shoulder. Since his back was to me, my arm crept up against his posterior, my fingers wrapping around near his collarbone. "But, Max, I truly would not dwell on it so much. I bet every time May calls, all Norman does it talk about you."

Max became a tinsy bit rigid, and not because I was molesting his shoulder, but because he seemed to really consider my statement. I knew he didn't want to admit this, because he suddenly said, "Hey, you know it's not even raining anymore."

"It isn't?" I wondered. I used his shoulder as leverage to pull myself up and it was at that point that Max sat up and pulled away from my touch. He walked all the way over to the window.

"Yeah," he said. "Maybe that means the train will be open tomorrow!" His mood brightened.

"Might be," I considered. "I have a times table over there, so go check the schedule," I explained, pointing to the coffee table.

Max muttered something about me being lazy, but ultimately did what I asked. When he found the times table, he began reading off the times: "Seven, ten, noon, and uh, three in the afternoon."

I hissed. "Oh, I'm not waking up early to catch a fucking train," I complained. "Let's take the three o'clock."

"Let's?" Max echoed.

I was getting sleepy lying on the bed, so I closed my eyes and just said, "Why yes, Maximus. I don't see why we should submit ourselves to loneliness when we are taking the same train."

I heard Max throw down the paper. "Well, aren't you going to Olivine? I'm going to Ecruteak."

"Well, then, I guess you can wave goodbye to me with a handkerchief as I stay on the train and go to Olivine." I began removing my jacket, throwing it on the floor. Another part of being a host was not sleeping the nude, so I left my black shirt and pants on, removing only my belt to stay comfortable. I really needed to buy some pajamas.

"Are you going to bed?" Max wondered. I swear, I could hear the discomfort in his voice, knowing he was watching me remove pieces of my clothing.

"I think I might just be," I told him. I took a pillow from underneath my head and threw it in his direction. "Here, you can have that one." I then wadded up one of the thinner sheets on the bed and chucked that at him. "That, too." I had done some rather personal things in this bed, so I hoped Max enjoyed my scent. Which, in my opinion, he had no reason not to enjoy it.

My eyes still closed, I heard Max shake out the sheet and set it up on the couch. Ahh, Maximus really was spending the night in my room.

I'm sure May would've died had she known… and that made it even better.

xxxxx

-Max-

I smelt an odd combination of cheese, eggs, pepper and salt directly underneath my nose. I swear I could feel the heat of the meal in my nostrils, the steam hitting my eyelids and creating just the slightest bit of precipitation. What an odd dream, I thought to myself, turning away and pushing my head into the puffy pillow. Pressing my face against it, I began smelling something new, very sharp and torrid. I had smelt it before, on someone, I believe. I wasn't sure who, but when I heard a clank of glass nearby, I realized I wasn't alone and allowed myself to get out of my daze, blinking a few times before I fully awoke.

"That's it," a voice said.

Harley.

Yesterday flooded back. I thought I was sleeping at the Pokémon Center, completely forgetting how I ended up in Harley's hotel room. I gave a deep breath, sitting up slowly as my vision unblurred. I still couldn't see all the way, slightly lost without my glasses. But, I could see Harley sitting on the coffee table across from the couch, a tray of food next to him and a cigarette in his hand.

"Good morning," he greeted, smiling at me. He was dressed properly, complete with his green hat covering his slightly damp hair, which I guessed was due to him taking a shower or something. Last night he had stripped off his jacket and belt, and I had discovered that his black shirt was really a black tank-top, which surprised me for some reason.

I had slept in a similar state, changing into my white pajama shirt, but keeping my regular shorts on. I didn't want to change fully into my pajamas, believing that was making myself too comfortable as a guest in Harley's hotel room.

I cleared my throat and responded back, "Morning."

The man continued to smile. Whatever made Harley so chipper and smiley sort of was freaking me out. The smoke emitted from his cigarette smelt just like my pillow. It must have been his scent embedded in the fabric, along with some kind of light and soft lavender nonsense. It wasn't really the most pleasant thing, two polar opposite scents contrasting as they mixed together.

Harley picked up a plate of eggs, waving it around under my nose. He must have done that to me earlier. I took the plates, annoyed with how he was shoving it in my face. He then handed me a fork, continuing to give me a weird grin.

"How did you sleep?" he wondered.

I placed the plate of eggs on my lap, not really wanting to eat anything. "Fine," I said. And, it was true. I hadn't even stirred in the slightest last night.

Harley tightened the cigarette between his fingers, inhaling a large amount of smoke and blowing it out of his nose. Some of the smoke came my way, but I was too distracted by the smell of eggs to be bothered by the tobacco. Suddenly, Harley moved, sitting up from the coffee table and plopping himself down on the couch next to me. He made me lose my comfortable position as I tried to keep the plate of eggs from slipping out of my hand. His legs rested on the coffee table now, and he motioned towards the window behind us with his cigarette as he said:

"See the weather?"

I turned, not even noticing anything before. From the window, I could see a bright and luminance light shining through, casting shadows on just about every object in the room. I placed the plate on the table and walked over to the window, seeing the city in vibrant colors instead of dark, gloomy hues.

"Wow, I can't believe it's this nice out," I said.

Harley gave a sound of agreement. He put his still-burning cigarette on the ashtray, grabbing a bagel from the tray of food and taking a large bite out of it. "There's a pool here," he said, his mouth full of bread. "We should go swimming."

"No thanks," I rejected, walking back over to the couch. "We need to catch the train."

Harley huffed. "It's 9:40," the man informed me, "and chances of making it to the station aren't in our favor."

"What? Why'd you wake me up so late then!"

"I didn't wake up too early myself, Maximus," Harley told me. "I woke up at eight o'clock, took a shower, and then ordered breakfast for us."

"You took a shower but now you want to swim?" I asked.

There was one glass of orange juice, which made me realize I was thirsty. I claimed the drink by taking a rather large gulp. I then scratched the back of my head, knowing my hair must have been messy. Harley didn't seem to mind, but I felt rather rude looking so unkempt.

"I don't want to swim, actually," he explained, finishing his bagel. "I want to sit out in the sun."

"How boring," I declared. "You're such a woman."

Harley automatically shot a look at me. "That's not very nice of you," he muttered, a sincere tone of anger. He reached for his cigarette again. "But, tell me, if I was a woman, how gorgeous do you think I'd be?"

I furrowed my brow. "Uh… I don't know," I stuttered out. What kind of question was that anyway? Gosh, Harley was weird.

"Hopefully nothing like that sister of yours," he groaned.

"May's not ugly," I defended, frowning.

"You're her brother. Of course you'd say that." He threw his head back as he gave a small laugh. "Don't let that offend you, because I'm not judging your sweet face," he continued, reaching out and giving me a soft, almost effortless, pat on the cheek.

Compliment or not, I stiffened, not wanting him to touch my face ever again. Why he insisted on touching me so much was beyond me, but I wish he knew how degraded I felt when he did so. I wanted to tell him that, but I wasn't sure how he'd react.

I noticed the untouched plate of eggs Harley was pushing in my face earlier. I felt bad not eating the meal he obviously ordered for me, so I picked up the fork and plate and began picking at the food. When I peered over at Harley with the corner of my eye, I could see he was satisfied I had decided to eat.

"We should go swimming," Harley repeated in the exact same tone he had stated it earlier. It seriously sounded like this was the first time he was asking. I guessed he was trying to insist upon the idea.

"I don't feel like it," I decided to say.

Harley brushed his fingers through his hair quickly. "There's no harm in just enjoying the nice weather, Max."

The use of my name, and not that cursed nickname, made me tempted to say yes. He sounded pleasant for once, not forceful or unrelenting. I stayed quiet as I finished eating the plate of eggs. Afterwards, I felt the need to brush my teeth. I put the plate back on the wooden tray and reached for my backpack on the ground.

As I searched for the plastic case with my toothbrush inside, Harley flicked some of his cigarette's debris onto the ashtray. The cigarette basically useless, he just dropped it onto the ceramic dish. He then delicately picked up a small teacup, half-filled with some red tea. He had apparently been drinking it earlier.

"I have my bathing suit in here," I informed Harley dully, pulling it out of my bag along with my toothbrush case. "But, I still don't want to go. I just ate, after all."

Harley slammed down the cup of tea and shouted, "Oh, Max! That whole jibble is just a myth. Don't let it intrude on our fun."

I wondered why Harley so badly wanted me to go with him when he didn't even want to swim in the first place. I mean, how important was lying out in the sun?

Sighing, I unfurled my swimming trunks and looked at them. I hadn't swam in months, finding it boring alone. While I was staring at the dark blue apparel, Harley grabbed it from me.

"Well, look at that. Someone's always prepared," he announced. He smiled very widely. "Cute!" he commented, running his thumbs down the sides of the elastic fabric.

I blushed and grabbed them back. Somehow, the word "cute" didn't seem appropriate for a boy's bathing suit, especially one that belonged to me. I wondered if he was making fun of me.

Harley grinned at me as I continued to glow red with embarrassment. "You do know how to swim, right?" he wondered, leaning in closer and putting a hand over his mouth in mock-horror. "Or, do I have to give you swimming lessons?"

My redness deepened. He had not said that in a sensible tone. In fact, he made it sound like some flirty comment, and I was actually pretty sure it was. "N-No!" I stuttered. "I know how to swim." I was clamming up, completely focused on what he was possibly hinting at instead of what I was saying.

"That's good to know then," Harley stated, smacking his lips together in some concluding fuss.

Now I wasn't sure what to think. So, he was just making fun of me, right? God, I really had no idea. I became frustrated and rose from the sofa, walking into the bathroom and closing the door.

Even with the door closed, I could hear Harley giving a small laugh. It disturbed me.

I brushed my teeth, using the small tube of minty paste Harley left on the counter. Afterwards, I rinsed my brush and dried it so it wouldn't stain the plastic case. I felt like my bathing suit, which I placed on the counter as well, was staring at me. I knew it would fit me, but the thought of being in my bathing suit in front of Harley was terribly humiliating. I had never been self-conscious of my physical appearance, because I didn't really care, but with Harley it was different, I guess.

Harley always stared at me, and I just knew he was judging me. I could imagine him stifling a laugh as he looked at me in my swim trunks. I might as well have just ran out into the room in my underwear. It was basically the same thing.

I sighed again, not sure if I wanted to go swimming in the first place. It was a nice day out, and after dealing with yucky, rainy weather, it would've been a pleasant change of pace. But, I would've rather spent the morning training my Pokémon or battling.

Harley and I had battled the day before yesterday, but it felt like a million years ago. I would've inquired about another battle instead of a swim, but knowing I'd probably beat him, I didn't want to risk him getting upset and swearing revenge on me. Though, truth be told, he didn't seem to be up to anything these days. He really seemed bored and just wanted company, even if it ended up being me.

Not wanting Harley to think I died in the bathroom, I quickly changed into my swimsuit, feeling utterly ridiculous as I did so. I'm not sure why, but the whole idea of swimming began to just seem stupid all together. I looked at myself in the mirror, but because I still wasn't wearing my glasses, I couldn't see very well. I ended up grabbing a clean towel from a shelf, wrapping it around my shoulders like a cape. This way, I could cover my bare chest, and hopefully feel less retarded when I stepped out of the bathroom.

I gathered by clothes and toothbrush and exited the bathroom, taking the deepest breath ever as I did so. When I walked back into the room, Harley was all the way over near the bed, a white bathrobe on instead of his clothes. His clothes and hat were actually folded neatly on the bed, which was messily made. He himself had changed while I was, too, and I wondered what he would've said had I exited the bathroom earlier and walked in on him changing. Knowing Harley, he probably would've just laughed and continued changing without a care in the world.

Across the room, Harley just sort of looked at me. He had a rather neutral expression, but he was eyeing the towel I had wrapped around my shoulders. I wasn't sure if he thought I looked stupid the way I was wearing it, or if he was upset I had used a towel. I opened my mouth to say something, but Harley cut me off:

"Aren't you adorable," he commented.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Was he mocking me? It was so hard to tell with this man, so I didn't even bother mulling over it. I just walked back over to the sofa, noticing the tray of food was gone. I stuffed my toothbrush and clothes back into my bag and then put on my glasses.

"Ready?" he called out, grabbing a pair of sunglasses from his brown bag. He placed them on his head.

His hair, freshly washed from this morning, looked soft and shiny. His hair was actually longer than both May's and my mom's, and I wanted to know why a man would want it that long in the first place. As I pondered this, he ran his hand through his hair, fluffing it up to adjust to the sunglasses he had perched on his head.

"Yes, I'm ready," I finally responded. "I'm going to bring Kirlia," I then told him, having already grabbed the Pokéball from my bag.

"Fantastic!" he said, walking to the door and opening it for me.

I thanked him with a nod, walking out first and noticing the tray of breakfast was sitting out in the hall like he had done with the previous night's servings. That tray was gone, so I guessed the maids here really did just take them if you left the trays out like that. It was pretty rude in my opinion, but whatever.

"So," I began in a hushed tone, "are you going to get a tan or something?"

Harley shook his head, the two of us walking side by side. "No, I don't look good with a tan, Maximus. I just want to lie out in the sun. And, luckily, I don't tan easily so I won't have to worry."

"Oh," I voiced. "Do you know how to swim?" I then wondered, just wanting to throw back his original question to me.

"Of course, I do," Harley answered, sounding a bit insulted. He then grinned, extending only one side of his lips. "Why? Would you give me swimming lessons if I didn't?"

I tightened the grip on Kirlia's Pokéball. "What's with you and swimming lessons?" I questioned, more to myself than him.

Harley chuckled, not wanting to answer aloud, apparently.

We took the stairs to the pool outside. It was in the back of the hotel, surrounded by a small picket fence. There were tons of tables with umbrellas, chairs, settees and lawn chairs. There were a number of people here and there, mostly couples and a few servants dressed in pure white clothing. They were taking orders and bringing drinks out.

The humid air against my face made me smile. It was such nice day out. You couldn't even tell it had been raining like crazy for the past week. I had a feeling the pool area was going to get busier as the morning continued.

Harley picked a corner with two lawn chairs and a table in the middle. The large umbrella sticking out from the middle of the table was large enough to provide a good amount of shade underneath each chair. Harley sat on the left-sided one, relaxing fully on the seat and pulling down his sunglasses over his eyes.

I just stood there, gripping the towel where it met at my collarbone. Still wearing it like a cape, I felt warm in it, the sun beating on my shoulders. I sat down after a while, looking around at the many people. No one was in their bathing suits. They were all in loose and thin clothing, but no one seemed up for a swim.

I threw Kirlia's Pokéball to release her, the red light beaming out and disappearing just as her feet landed on the ground. I caught the ball, placing it on the table and calling Kirlia over. I wasn't facing Harley anymore, but I could sense he was watching me. Kirlia gave a slightly curious look, wondering why I was with him again, but didn't seem to mind.

"You can just relax and enjoy the nice weather," I told her.

She responded with an excited squeal and nod. Afterwards, she wandered towards the edge of the pool to look at her reflection. I was enjoying the warmth emitted from the sun, but I didn't think I was patient enough to just lay here like Harley was doing.

I watched Kirlia sit down at the edge of the pool, soaking her long legs in the water. Across the distorted oval of a pool, there was a Poliwhirl and Sealeo playing with their trainers. I was suddenly really in the mood to battle someone. I turned to look at Harley, who was relaxing comfortably, not a care in the world. Because of his sunglasses, I couldn't tell if his eyes were open, but he was obviously daydreaming or something.

"Are you going to just lay here?" I wondered.

"That's the plan, yes," he answered. "I thought I told you that already."

I narrowed my eyes. "You did…" I muttered.

I noticed that despite the heat, Harley still had the thick white bathrobe tied against his body. He was barefoot, just like I was, but I wondered if he had his bathing suit on underneath the robe. It would probably be green just like all his other clothing. I sort of hated that he wore so much green, especially since it happened to be my favorite color. Knowing it was probably his, too, I was disturbed to realize we might share something in common.

Being with Harley around a pool made me think back to all the times I went swimming with Ash, Brock and May. We used to swim quite often, and it had been a lot of fun playing with them all in the water. As we traveled, it occurred less and less often, but I still cherished the memories of happier times with my sister.

"Are you just going to sit here?" Harley suddenly questioned.

"I don't know," I said once more. "I'm not in the mood to swim."

"Then why'd you come?" he snapped.

"Because you wanted to!" I explained in a huff.

"Oh?" he teased. "Well, I'm not sure I would've gone if you hadn't decided."

Confused, I just said, "What?" I realized that Harley previously claiming to go to the pool alone was just a way of getting me to come with him. He wouldn't have gone without me, because he wanted me here with him. I wasn't sure why, but I figured he was just messing with my head. "You're ridiculous."

Harley began laughing at my final statement. "All right," he dismissed, raising both his eyebrows to show he didn't care.

Very annoyed, I wanted to get away from him. I rose from the chair, letting the towel finally fall off my shoulders. I walked over to Kirlia, sitting next to her and dunking my feet into the water just like she did. I turned to give a quick look at the Pokémon and she cocked her head, wondering why I seemed so upset.

"Harley's a weirdo," I just said, and Kirlia returned to looking at the water.

I felt Harley's gaze on me, so I turned my head. He had his sunglasses back on the top of his head and was sitting up, completely focused. I frowned, not liking this at all. Kirlia turned to look at him, too. She then said something before sliding herself into the pool. The splash made me turn to her, watching as she swam around.

But, Harley kept looking at me. I was too far away to be sure, but I had a strong feeling he was looking at my bathing suit and that made me very uncomfortable. Wanting to get away from his gaze, I took off my glasses, placing them next to me before following Kirlia's actions and sliding my body into the water.

Kirlia swam over to greet me, and I splashed her with small effort as I tried to see if Harley was still watching me. He was. In fact, he seemed even more interested because he was no longer reclining on the chair; he was sitting up, as if he wanted to get a better look at what I was doing.

Half of me wanted to yell for him to cut it out, but what if he wasn't looking at me like I thought? I searched around to see if there was anything else around, but there was nothing I could find. Disturbed, I went underwater and swam all the way over to the other side of the pool. Kirlia followed happily.

"Why do you think he's looking at me?" I asked Kirlia.

Kirlia shrugged and just splashed me. I splashed her back, trying to seem like I didn't care if Harley was still eyeing me. When I had my back facing him, I quietly asked my Pokémon:

"Can you see if he's still looking at me?"

Kirlia caught onto my discomfort and casually glanced over to Harley. She then exclaimed, and I knew she said yes. I frowned heavily.

I tried my best to enjoy swimming around with Kirlia. She was very happy to be out in the nice weather, just like I was, but I could tell she didn't understand the extent of how worried Harley was making me feel. I mean, he even took off his sunglasses so he could watch me. That was plain creepy.

I knew Harley was a bit flip with his actions, which, to a point, explained some of the reasons he always patted my head or shoulder or knee. But, other times, he obviously wanted to do it for other reasons, reasons I couldn't quite grasp. Maybe that was just the way he acted, but it wasn't the most appropriate thing in the world. Though Harley and "appropriate" didn't seem to go together in the first place.

Still hoping to find something or someone around me that could possibly be what Harley was looking at, I realized that besides Kirlia, I was the only one in the entire pool. This made me very red, as I knew Harley was definitely looking at me now, and also, he had a great opportunity to look at me completely alone in the pool. I was horrified.

I swam back to where I left my glasses, getting out of the pool and grabbing them. I did my best to squeeze out the water from my hair before walking back over to the lawn chair and wrapping my towel around myself again. I did so more tightly than before then sat down on the chair and put my glasses back on. Harley had watched my every move, even turning to look at me as I sat here now.

He sensed my discomfort. After a while, he said, "You weren't lying when you said you could swim."

I slowly turned to look at him. He had a sly, almost wicked, grin on his face. His brow was lowered, looking satisfied as if he had just tricked someone into believing a lie.

"Of course I wasn't lying," I stated. As much as I tried to keep my voice strong, it was uncontrolled, and I knew it sounded like nothing more than childish backtalk.

Harley further looked at me, his eyes quickly moving down my body, trying to go down fast to make me not notice. But, I did. And, I noticed how he closed his eyes afterwards, turning over and reclining back again. He pushed his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose and gave a sigh, sounding very satisfied for some reason.

"Harley," I began quietly, "when was the last Contest you entered?"

It took a moment for Harley to respond. But, he answered, "Hmm, maybe two months ago? I was in Slateport City for a while, and I entered just because."

I remembered Slateport was where Harley was from, so I knew he was visiting his home when he entered that Contest. "I can guess the outcome of that Contest," I shrugged.

Harley crossed his arms as he lay there reclined. He grunted, not liking what I said. "Well, yes, and that's when I realized I needed a vacation."

"If you lost, I think it meant you needed to train," I corrected.

Harley became angrier. "No," he declared. "It meant I needed a vacation."

"Oh, okay," I concluded sarcastically. "But, you know, when people have losing streaks it doesn't mean they're tired and need a rest; it means they should work harder."

Harley tore off his sunglasses and glared at me. "I think it's time you stop talking, Max."

I narrowed my eyes, the use of my name sort of intimidating. Honestly, what would he have done if I kept going on like this? He probably would've killed me, yes, but I wondered how violently. This actually made me laugh slightly, and when I looked back up, Harley bit his bottom lip, hard.

I decided to switch the subject of losing back onto myself by saying, "I'm sort of worried about my next Gym Battle." Normally, I wouldn't just admit something like that, but I wanted to keep the conversation going.

"You'll do fine," Harley grunted, obviously just saying it without any real consideration.

I took notice of Kirlia's continual, non-stopping swimming. "So, what happened to your Ariados and Banette?" I asked.

Harley gave a distant smile. "Oh, they're back in Slateport, staying with a friend."

"A friend?" I echoed. It was odd, because I automatically assumed this friend was male and possibly more than just a friend. And, I had to admit, that bothered me for some reason. I wasn't sure if it was on the level of comfort or because it was just weird.

"Yes, she takes care of Pokémon," he further explained.

She. So, it wasn't another man. "Before I was a trainer, I befriended a Shuppet," I told him. "I always wanted one because of that, but never came across one. Where'd you capture yours?"

The man shrugged. "Somewhere around a mountain of the sorts," he told me. "You know, I've caught quite a few more Pokémon while I traveled in Johto the first time. Maybe one day I'll tell you about them."

"One day?" I scoffed, knowing that was an excuse so he never would tell me. And, yet, I would've been interested. But, I went on and said, "I bet your Banette was just as creepy when it was a Shuppet and nothing like the one I met." I wiped some of the wetness from my forehead with my arm, continuing to have the towel wrapped around my upper body.

"My Banette is not creepy!" he shouted. "And, neither is my Cacturne," he finished.

Startled by his yell, I just shrugged and said, "I never said anything about your Cacturne."

"Your sister did," he growled.

"For hating her so much, you sure remember a lot about her."

Harley readjusted himself on the lawn chair, obviously fidgeting as his anger got the best of him. "That's what happens when people scar you for life with their excessive cruelness."

"You're one to talk," I muttered.

"I was never cruel," he argued. "I was just righting what was wrong when your sister did some pretty lousy things to me."

I sighed. Harley really did think May had started their rivalry. He believed his superiority, his position on things, and even his own lies. It was crazy. I wanted to tell him there was no reason to hold a grudge on someone he didn't even communicate with anymore, but it wouldn't have made a difference. I still thought that perhaps he might've been interested in knowing where May was, but I wasn't going to tell him.

After a long amount of silence, my Kirlia came out of the pool and shook herself off. She walked back over to me, giving a very tired look. I smiled and asked, "Do you want to go back into your Pokéball?" I smiled more and grabbed the ball to return her. I minimized it, placing it next to me. "You should've brought your Pokémon out here," I told Harley.

"They're fine," he insisted.

"I heard Nurse Joy tell you to let them out more often," I admitted.

"You did, did you?" he grumbled.

"Maybe you should listen to her advice."

"Maybe," he said, putting his arms behind his head to relax.

"I hope you realize that keeping them locked up in their Pokéballs all the time isn't going to benefit you when you decide to go back to entering Contests," I lectured. Then, "I also thought you said when I beat you the other day that it was a wake-up call to start training again."

Harley gave a loud huff. "I truly believe it's time for you to stop talking, 'kay, Maximus?"

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever." I reclined on the chair like Harley, wanting now to just enjoy the weather. After I was done readjusting my position, I closed my eyes, making sure my towel was safely wrapped around my chest so I wouldn't feel so self-conscious.

Even with my eyes closed, I felt Harley return to look at me. I don't know if it was because I felt him possibly move or if because I was just nervous, but I was certain he was looking at me. I opened my eyes, turning my head, and sure enough, he was. His head was turned in my direction, and the precise angle had the sun gleaming onto his sunglasses, allowing me to see his eyes.

I desperately wanted to ask him what the heck he was looking at me for, but instead I just continued to stare back at him. He didn't say anything either. The man just pushed in his lips, seeming determined to concentrate on staring at me.

"I think I'm ready to go back to the room," he announced, his eyes still glued on me.

"O-Okay," I stuttered. "That's fine with me."

Harley stood up, stretching on the way. I stood up as well, making sure I had Kirlia's Pokéball with me. When Harley walked past me, he grabbed my towel forcefully, taking it in his hands and dabbing his forehead with it. Startled, I had little time to do anything but just stare at him, dumbfounded. When he was done, he dropped it on my head.

"That was polite," I spewed, putting the towel back around my shoulders.

"You shouldn't wear that towel like you do your fucking poncho," he complained, walking back towards the side stairwell of the hotel.

I followed again, having to jog to keep up with him. Why did he have such long legs? Why was he so tall in the first place anyway? I sighed, wondering, as we walked back to his room, why I was still hanging around this guy. I mean, just because he wasn't as annoying and creepy as I thought he would be—(well, he definitely was those things on some level)—there was no reason I needed to spend time with him. What also confused me is that my presence didn't seem to bother Harley. I would even safely assume he wanted me to stick around, just so he could have some company. Maybe he did this all the time: took in people he met and then went separate ways from them after a while.

Once we finished walking up all those flights of stairs, we made it back to the eighth level, and eventually, back to his hotel room. The breakfast tray in the hall was gone, but the room itself hadn't been cleaned yet. Harley's pathetic attempt at making the bed was still evident.

Harley walked over to the balcony window and slid open the blinds completely. The bright sun shined through the glass and into half of the room but blocked off in the living room area because of the wall pillar. Harley also opened the balcony door a little, letting in some air.

Still dripping wet from the pool, I walked slowly over to the couch and replaced Kirlia's Pokéball into my backpack. I adjusted the towel on my shoulders and ended up pulling it over my head to scrub my hair dry. When I removed the towel from blocking my view, Harley was around the corner of the sofa, his bathrobe still on and his sunglasses now on the top of his head.

I picked up the times table that was still on the coffee table and examined the times again. "The last train leaves at three, Harley," I reminded him.

"It's 11:23," Harley replied. "We have loads of time to kill." He smiled in my direction.

Having spent almost an hour at the pool, I realized a lot time really hadn't past in the long-run. He was right: there was still so much time left before the train actually left. "So, um, is it okay if I take a shower?"

Harley removed his sunglasses perched on his head and threw them down onto the coffee table. "I don't see why not. I wouldn't want you stinking of chlorine all day."

I placed down the times table, along with my glasses, but did not respond to his half-rude/half-joking comment. I began digging out my extra pairs of clothes so I could change after my shower, but I felt Harley hovering over me as I did so. I looked to see what he was doing, but as I did so, he just plopped down onto the couch and rested his feet on the table.

My clothes gathered up in my arms, I wondered how I was supposed to get around Harley as he sat there reclined. I looked at him, trying to get my message through, but he widened his eyes and smiled, grabbing my wrist and pulling me down to sit on the couch with him.

"You don't need to do that now, though!" he exclaimed, pushing the clothing out of my arms.

"I'm still soaked!" I argued, sitting up from the couch. "I don't want to get your couch all wet."

"It's not my couch, Maximus," he went on, patting the empty space next to him. "Let's watch TV."

I frowned and placed the towel over the cushion before I sat down. Even if it wasn't his couch, it was rude to just allow chlorine to soak into nice material. As I sat on the couch, though, I felt very uncomfortable. I was starting to dry off from the air, making my skin feel sticky and dirty. I was also getting cold, and I wished I wasn't still in my swimming trunks.

"Are you going to stay in another lousy Pokémon Center in Ecruteak City?" Harley wondered, titling his head.

"Well, yeah, not everyone wants to waste money on a hotel like you," I defended myself. "How do you even have money anyway?"

"There are some ups to when your parents die," he told me.

I frowned, not even knowing where to begin with that. I wouldn't know what to do if either of my parents died. Money wouldn't even cross my mind.

Harley then shrugged off his statement, and for a second, he leaned forward, aiming for his box of cigarettes. He then decided against it for whatever reason and looked over at me. His eyes went to my legs where my goose bumps were most obvious.

"Cold?" he wondered.

"Yeah," I said. "That's another reason I'd like to go take a shower."

"I'm nice and warm," he informed me, placing a hand right above my knee. His hand was warm, especially on my cold, damp skin.

His hand was also very soft and feeling so sticky and moist made me embarrassed to have him touching me. In fact, his touch sent another sweep of goose bumps up and down my body. This didn't bother him. He kept his hand there, even beginning to move his thumb very slowly on my kneecap. I shivered again, tightening up my body to try and regain some warmth.

"I should probably take a shower now," I said dully. I continued to sit there, though, looking at Harley as if I wanted his permission to get up. I guess I would've, though, since his legs were still blocking the space between the sofa and the coffee table.

The man grinned, using my leg to pull himself closer to me. This movement instantly made me sink deeper into the back of the sofa, my moist back sticking against the fabric. His expression turned very odd, a crooked sort of smirk that made me, for basically the first time, feel completely dumbfounded and stupid. I thought I knew what that type of stare meant, but why on earth would Harley ever look at me that way? It was different than his creepy grin when he was up to no good; now it was sly haze of delirium that scared me.

"Max," he began, and I swear I could feel his breath just fan onto me from the distance between us. "I really quite like you." He smirked, inching himself closer and closer until I felt his chest hit my shoulder.

I sunk even deeper into the couch, moving my hands in front of my chest to push him away. It hardly did anything, so I grabbed his upper-arms, attempting to still him. He stopped this time, continuing to look at me weirdly. I had no idea what to say. I could feel the heat from Harley's body, but it was far too odd to be comforting.

My mind shot back to our time at the restaurant when he kept giving me funny looks. At that time, I could've sworn he was judging me, but then he continued to give those looks when we were eating yesterday and when I swam this afternoon. Now I realized, well, actually, I don't know… I felt trapped between what I was tempted to believe and what I knew about him as a person. If he was actually considering that I was certain this was the pinnacle of trying to get back at May. Was he capable of that? Or, was he just teasing me right now, trying to mess with my head like I always thought he was?

I tightened my grip on his upper-arms when he moved himself near. I was too lost in my thoughts—my confusing, but very revealing thoughts—about Harley to put more effort into my small fight. He was going to do something, and I was so scared that I closed my eyes just as I felt his body lean over mine. Then his breath hit my face, and this made me open my eyes. I swear I thought my heart was going to explode because he pressed his lips onto mine, and I became terrified. Absolutely terrified.

The dry and rough sensation made me positive his mouth should not be on mine. I turned my face away, causing his lips to slide sideways on my face, dragging across my cheek. He backed away a bit and looked down at me, his messy hair falling from his shoulders. I shut my eyes again, avoiding his look as I struggled with my inability to say anything at all.

"Max," he called out, running his left hand through my wet, clamped-together bangs.

He readjusted himself, basically sitting on my lap with his legs on either side of me. He gave the weirdest expression. He looked so drained, but so needy. This sight made me tremble with panic.

Putting his hands on my shoulders, he pinned me back onto the pillow cushion as he hovered over me. Having lost my grip on his upper-arms, the man moved his hand down to prevent one of my arms from pushing him away again. At this point, I started to squirm. Not backing down, he then pressed his lips against mine. This time, the kiss was not motionless. I wasn't sure if he expected me to respond in some way. I surely didn't want to. I wanted him off me. But, I was too scared of what he would do if I fought.

I gasped to end the suffocating claim, but his persistence made me gag and he used the opportunity of my open mouth to slide in his tongue. Wet and hot, I was horrified by how much it felt like my own. I stayed still, but he forced our tongues to tangle together, making my entire mouth feel stuffed. I choked a bit, disliking the slick feeling.

I groaned in sudden fear, trying to stop him from doing anything further. His lingering weight over my lap finally rested down, making my lower body trapped. I felt something hard against my thigh, and I hated that I knew what Harley wanted. I gargled another fearful huff, and he finally parted our mouths to look at me. My face was beet red, but he didn't seem to care. He smiled at me, looking suspicious.

I wasn't sure what to do. We just kept looking at each other.

So, I narrowed my eyes, ashamed and paralyzed. I wanted to say something, but what? I really wished, for once, Harley would say something, too. Instead, he was rubbing my arm, his palm running up and down.

"W-Why…" I stuttered, so unsure of myself. "Why did you do that…?"

This made Harley grin widely. "Because I like you, Max."

I blushed. I was on-guard this entire time of Harley pulling something, but I never expected Harley pulling something like this. I felt so stupid for hanging around him in the first place! He was never up to anything normal, and now he was trying to pull me into something by saying he "liked me." I wanted to ask why he liked me, but I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer. At least now I knew why he was staring at me the entire time I was swimming. Now I knew why he was so insistent on letting me stay the night. God, a million other things I questioned were starting to make mild sense now.

I had never been in a situation like this before. Even though I had met hundreds of people on my journey, not once did a single person ever express this kind of interest. I couldn't help but feel special momentarily, until I realized once more that this was Harley. He wanted me to feel that way, I'm sure. He was just too likely of falling under the category of child molester, the more I thought about it. Why would he just up and decide he liked me when he never showed a single bit of interest before? Or, wait, had he? I just got finished thinking all those times he looked at me were explanations of his current revelation, but… I just didn't even think it was possible for Harley to feel that way. I was so confused that now I couldn't even think straight. All I knew was that when we first met, he certainly never acted out this way. I knew what it was like to be manipulated by him, and I never wanted that to happen again.

That memory surged some anger in me. He hadn't just messed with May all those years ago, he had done the same to me. Back then, I had been more concerned with May, but now, at this very moment between Harley with me, I became more aware he wasn't above still playing schemes.

"This is my own fault for hanging around you," I told him, shifting my eyes away from his.

"Perhaps," he mused wistfully. He pressed his upper-half against my chest. "And, it also may very well be your fault for being so—oh, how should I put this?—hmm, tempting."

Tempting?

But, I had no time to examine that because it was happening all over again: his mouth, his hands, his determination. The tip of Harley's tongue pressed through my lips, parting them even as I tried to keep them together. His body moved against mine, his hips grating against my stomach as he readied himself for his next move. He slid his hand down my bare chest and tugged the left end of my swimsuit.

Beneath him, I still tried to move my face away from his. But, while one hand slipped underneath the material of my swimsuit, the other held my face in position, forcing our mouths to stay fused. When he released the hand holding my face still, he used it to untie his fluffy, white bathrobe. I tried not to look, but my earlier curiosity of what he was wearing underneath got the best of me. And, he had on nothing. Nothing. And, just a glimpse of his bare body was enough to make me look up to the shadow-decorated ceiling, avoiding him completely.

But, Harley grabbed my chin, forcing my gaze downward as he wrapped his other hand around the top of my bathing suit and slipped into them. Harley's body was unlike anything I had seen before. He was older than most people I had met, and his body showed it. He was a collection of defined shapes in his shoulders, arms, legs, and hips, and I knew my small, bony stature was the polar opposite of his. Whatever my body looked like, he didn't seem to care. He had his hand inside my swim shorts, feeling around below my abdomen before I felt his fingers linger more and more down.

I swallowed hard. Not wanting to give up on making this whole mess stop, I grabbed his wrist, preventing him from touching me any further. "Stop, Harley," I said forcefully.

Harley's expression melted into a grin. "Relax," he coaxed, brushing away some of the hair in my face. "You'll enjoy this, I promise."

His words shocked me. "No!" I went on. "I don't want to do this!"

Harley smacked his lips together to make that dismissal sound. He then slammed himself against me, pressing our bodies together forcefully and trapping me beneath him. He reached fully into my shorts and wrapped his hand around my limp thing, urging a reaction out of me as he dragged my shorts down my legs.

"H-Harley!" I exclaimed, shrugging my shoulders upward to try and push him off. "Stop!"

"Shh," he said. "Relax."

I became paralyzed once again, surprised by how sudden it was happening. His hand wrapped around my length, stroking it carefully with his soft, but slightly callused, fingers. His body was tightly pressed onto mine. I felt his thing, hard and larger than my own, against my inner thigh. He was not attending to himself, but I felt his growing need as he rubbed himself over my leg.

His enclosed hand around my length steered in circular motions, making me shudder as he allowed it to grow hard. I bit my lip, completely unsure how I was supposed to react to someone touching me like this. I laid my head onto the back of the couch, my wet hair sticking to the sides of my face and making me itch. I watched the shadows from various objects sway on the walls, created by a mixture of dark and bright lighting throughout the room.

My hips unintentionally rose off the sofa, pressing into his touch. I tried to correct this by sinking myself back into the couch, but Harley had noticed. He smiled at me, his face coming forward to mine as he trapped our mouths together. Oddly angled, our groins ended up touching, and Harley moaned into my mouth, thrusting our bodies closer and closer until I felt like his weight was going to kill me.

When I became completely hard, much to my dismay, he slid himself down my body just a bit. His mouth connected with my chin, teeth grazing my skin gently, before he fell on his knees in front of the sofa, his weight off me.

Feeling relieved, I sat up and attempted to squirm away from him. But, he placed his hands on my thighs, pressing me down to halt my movements. I looked down at him on his knees, and he looked back up at me, still retaining that grin of his. I watched as he licked his lips, inching toward my length. I closed my eyes tightly, preparing myself as if I were going to be struck. With his right hand bringing my length down to his mouth, he enveloped it, his warm saliva causing a staggering response of shivers in my body.

I let out a silent gasp, but I felt like it could be heard everywhere in the room. This wasn't that complicated to get away from, so why did I only make small attempts to get away? If I wanted to, I could've shoved him away, maybe actually hurt him. But, all my hesitation was gentle and it made me seem like I needed his assurance to "relax." And, now—with his hands guiding up and down my thighs, pushing them further apart as he lapped around my thing with his tongue—I started to believe I didn't want to get away.

Harley was moving his lips over the tip of my length, taking it in inch by inch before the entire thing disappeared into the circle of his mouth. I quivered, making small noises of pleasure and humiliation. Pushing my thing into his mouth, the inner, velvety side of his lips provided me with delight while the front of his lips grazed me with a rough and wet sensation. My legs started to squirm, pushing forward for more even though my mind was begging me to pull away.

At the first notice of my slight pull, Harley's strong hands immediately pressed onto my hips and held me down. He angled himself better, right above me, as he took in my entire length again and it disappeared from my sight and into his dark, hot mouth. I gasped louder this time, feeling his teeth then his throat. He made his mouth enclose around me, the warmth of his tongue still gliding over repeatedly. I could feel the very back of his throat, but he pulled away, beginning from the tip of my length and starting the in and out pattern over.

The man hollowed his cheeks and leaned his head and chest up, revealing the lower half of himself. I noticed his hand between his thighs. Though his bathrobe was still on, it was untied and exposing his hand laid out in an open palm as he rubbed himself against it. His backward and forward motions on my thing were the result of the friction he forced on himself.

And, I watched, fascinated. His eyes were closed, managing to concentrate on both himself and what he was doing to me. His face so close to my entire lower self, I felt the intense heat escape through his nostrils, sometimes hitting my length when he was sliding his mouth up. In the back of his throat, he somehow directed it to expand forward, feeling far more warm and velvety than the rest of his mouth.

I arched my back off the couch, hating myself for urging his touches. His free hand pressed me back onto the couch, half of him being on guard for my fight. But, as my muscles tightened and I clenched my fists, I needed something to grab onto. I reached for the sides of the couch, but, too far away, I stretched my hands forward, gripping onto Harley's shoulders until I felt my release, not even thinking as I came inside the man's mouth.

Harley's fingernails dug into my thigh, still using his other hand on himself. Only for a moment did I feel my release swish inside his mouth before I saw his throat quickly lump as he swallowed. Yet, he continued to keep his mouth around me, tongue massaging through the tremors of my completion. Then, finally, his fingernails entrenched further into my skin, and I felt his throat vibrate a moan as he, too, came, but into his own hand.

Harley lolled his head back, sliding off my length as he relaxed his weight onto his knees. I sat there, panting, my skin no longer feeling wet from the pool water, but wet from sweat. Harley's forehead gleamed with moisture, too, but the rest of his body seemed fine. His hand, completely dampened from his climax, reached for the towel beneath my body. He wiped his hand off, but kept the towel there.

I closed my eyes, pulling in my stomach as I inhaled with a confusing guilt. I had let Harley do this all. And, worst of all, I had humiliated myself by reacting to his touches and finally letting myself come into his mouth. This was absolutely wrong, and I knew it. These sort of things weren't supposed to happen to kids my age. Was it even normal to have reacted the way I did? Above all things, I hadn't even begun to analyze the fact I had enjoyed this from a man. I just wanted to dissipate, never having to face Harley or anyone else again.

After Harley caught his breath, he sat up, retying the robe and covering his grown and developed body. I closed my eyes, trying to block the images of his taut, erected self, but nevertheless, I blushed at the brief memory. My eyes closed, I felt Harley hover his weight over me again, not completely setting it all down. His hand brushed the side of my cheeks.

I broke the silence. "Don't," I ordered, flinching away from his touch.

Harley didn't listen. He cupped his hand around my cheek, leaning over and kissing me demandingly. I threw his hand off my face, tightening the grip on his wrist even as he continued to press our mouths together. I could taste my own release, even more when he slipped his tongue inside my mouth. He broke away when I groaned with objection, rubbing his free hand over my chin.

"What's wrong?" he wondered, raising an eyebrow.

As if he had to ask! I glared at him then frowned and looked away. His fingers, still massaging my chin, began slinking up, pressing between my lips. I was just about to bite down—demanding his intrusion to end at that moment—but then I tasted something on his hand. It was some combination of tangy iron, tobacco, and… his own release. I realized this was the hand he used on himself. Having just tasted myself seconds ago, I felt a sudden connection between us, but I let it pass, not wanting to think of Harley in any other way than negatively.

End of Part Two

¹ Footnote: After the voice actor change in 2006, I completely stopped watching the English dub of the show. Although I have knowledge of Hikari's English name, it's completely second-nature to me, and thus, I do not feel compelled to use it. I am, however, familiar with the English names of the fourth generation Pokémon (because of the games), so referring to them is less complicated. I know it seems silly (especially since Hikari's name only comes up a few times in the story), but this is just the way I feel, and for those who do not know my full involvement with the situation, I ask that you simply respect this decision.