The blue of the afternoon sky tinted the chipping, white walls of the Church of the Ethereal Sea and reflected on the golden murals of Kaióga. The benches were supplied with only a few worn, torn copies of To Chon in the front row. The air was stuffy with the smell of decay and neglect, memories dancing with a sense of loneliness. A priest stood at the altar, lighting stubs of burgundy candles.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Nicole's footsteps echoed across the emptiness. The silence and emptiness was at once overwhelming and comforting, as if the heavens were guiding her through the uncertainty.

"Brother Spenser, Earth and Sea and Sky Above."

The priest turned at the sound of Nicole's voice. He wore white and blue vestments, standard for priests and Lorekeepers serving under Kaióga's domain. Perhaps most distinct was his balding head and long, white beard.

"Sister Nicole, Earth and Sea and Sky Above," his voice was powerful yet gentle. He could speak directly to the heart and bring it light. "What brings you here today? It's unusual to be praying at a church under Kaióga's domain during the Feast Week of Gourádon."

"Brother Spenser, I come here to ask for your blessing."

"Ask and I shall give. Is it a blessing for the Feast Week? A trial you're facing? Your daughter?"

Nicole nodded. Swallowed. Collected herself.

"My brother cannot fast for the Feast Week, and I seek your blessing on his behalf."

Brother Spenser's brows furrowed with worry. "Is Brother Wallace sick?"

Nicole looked down at the ground. "He is."

Spenser swiftly glided past Nicole, down the aisle, out of the sanctuary, into the church office. It was a small room with three desks against the walls, with papers scattered on the floor.

He spoke not a word as he searched through the bags and bottles he stored in his cabinet.

"What is it? Influenza? Bronchitis? Salmonella? Tetanus? There's an outbreak of pneumonia in the city."

"We… moved to Lilycove City."

Spenser laughed softly, his voice tinged with lingering worry. "And you failed to tell me? I was there as Wallace memorized To Chon, you know. And your father as well, bless his soul."

"It's a disease of the mind."

Spenser looked up. The smile on his face was gone. "Does he have… Huntington's Disease? Parkin—"

"Mental illness. It's… mental illness."

Nicole rubbed her eyes with her wrist to fight off her tears. She had to stay strong to face whatever Spenser was about to say to her: that Wallace wasn't ill, that he was actually cursed, that he needed to be exorcised or killed or—

Spenser there wasn't shame or disgust or malice in his eyes. There was simply the same gentle power of his voice.

"I see. Would you still want me to come to him for the blessing of Tziráchi? I might be able to come once the Feast Week is over."

-

Wallace spent the next few days in the garage, only coming out when Nicole dragged him out for meals and therapy, or when he went into the red light district in hypersexual heat.

It was Gourádon Feast Week, but under no circumstances would anyone let Wallace fast for any amount of time. Being forced to eat three meals a day against religious law only drove Wallace's state of near-constant anxiety. He barely slept at night and was constantly on edge. There were times where he couldn't even hold down a meal because of stress, though at the very least, he never induced vomiting himself. It was a small miracle.

Duncan stuck by his side through everything to make sure he wouldn't… do anything. The good news was that Wallace didn't do anything. He didn't cut his arms or hit his head with books or purge after meals. Progress was being made, at least, even though certain other things were falling back.

Most notable were the black clothes he wore: black shirt, black coat, black pants, black shoes, all stained with paint here and there. He refused to wear any other color.

The paint got on his hands and face, too, along with the general dirt and grime that came with not bathing for several days. He looked haggard with his unkempt hair and sunken eyes.

"Come on, Wallace," Steven coaxed as he knocked on the door to the garage, "I thought you were a performer."

"I'll do it tonight," Wallace called back. "I'm busy."

"But don't you want to change your clothes?" And stop mourning your fucking rapist?

"I said I'll do it tonight!"

Tonight became the next morning, which became later in the day, which became tonight again.

Eventually, the Feast Week ended, and somehow Wallace made it out alive. With the week over, Spenser came by for the prayer of sickness.

"My my, Wallace," Spenser sighed, "I always believed Coordinators were prissy about their clothes having even a speck of dirt, and now here you are covered in dirt and… paint?"

"Forgive me, Brother Spenser."

Wallace was laying in bed. As was tradition for prayers for the sick, the rest of the household stood or sat close by—except for Lisia. She was off playing with Ali in the living room. She had to stay oblivious to Wallace's condition, for her sake. She wasn't going to become what Steven became. She was going to get a good childhood and a good life. All she had to do was stay out of this.

"Ah, there's nothing to apologize for," Spenser said. "Just remember to bathe and shower every other day. I recommend mixing up a scrub of olive oil, honey, sugar, and oatmeal to remove dead skin cells. And remember to nourish yourself with good food and drink."

"Easier said than done," Wallace mumbled.

Spenser placed a hand on Wallace's forehead.

"Tziráchi to astéri

"fére chíkari sou

"Tziráchi to astéri

"fére chíkari sou"

Spenser had a strong and baritone singing voice, protecting Wallace like a golden barrier. Even when the song ended, the warmth of it lingered on.

"Tziráchi, To Astéri," Spenser said, "blessed be the heart and mind of Wallace. Blessed be the family who has stayed by his side as he has walked this difficult path. I call upon you, if you cannot be with Wallace, to instead lend him your strength, your love, and your serenity. By—"

"Brother Spenser… may I make a request?"

Spenser looked down at Wallace, smiling.

"Of course you can."

"Can you say a prayer for Megalos?"

Steven shot out of his seat, and Winona had to grab him before he could storm to the bed. Rage fumed in his body.

"We are not saying any prayers for Megalos!"

"But Steven—"

"Wallace," Nicole said, "respecting the dead is important, but if they didn't respect you—"

"He did!" Wallace shot upright. "He loved me and respected me and—"

"Wallace," Steven snarled, "he raped you. He choked you and beat you within an inch of your life."

"HE DID IT OUT OF LOVE!"

"HE DID IT BECAUSE HE WAS A FUCKING DICK!"

Spenser held up a hand, and the room went quiet.

Wallace was shaking and gasping for air. Spenser turned back to him, expression softening.

"And Tziráchi, To Astéri, as Megalos moves on into the realm after ours, let us not forget the person he leaves behind, distraught and lost in a typhoon of emotions. Shine your light on Wallace, and let him know that he is not alone. Let him see you in the light, and let it guide him." He looked up at Steven and Winona. "And please… do not forget the family around Wallace. They are trying to help him, but they are doing so alone in the darkness. Give them light. Give them hope. By Earth, Sea, and Sky, in Harmony."

He smiled. After a moment of silence, he turned to Steven and Winona. "Can I speak with Wallace alone?"

Steven huffed, but he stood up to leave. Soon, the others had left, as well.

"Steven," Winona said as she stopped him in the hallway, "why do you have to be…" she waved her hands "...so aggressive?"

Steven exhaled harshly. "This is ridiculous, Winona. We can't have Wallace glorifying his rapist and almost-murderer."

"He doesn't understand that what Megalos did was wrong." Winona smiled as she put her hands on Steven's arm. "But he will."

"When will he?"

"He'll figure out that it was abuse eventually, but…" Winona's smile fell. "Steven, it's going to take time. We can't rush him, or he'll just push himself further away. It's like when he denied he self harmed or had an eating disorder. We kept pushing and pushing and demanding and demanding—"

"If we had demanded more, then Ren wouldn't have raped him."

"Steven, we can't blame anyone but Megalos and Ren."

"We should have done more! We should have intervened sooner!"

Now Winona was angry, too. How dare Steven imply she was a bad girlfriend! "But now we can't! Now all we can do is be here for Wallace until he figures out all of this shit!"

"Why can't he figure it out now?!"

THUD!

Pain shot through Steven's hand—a familiar pain, but that didn't make it hurt any less. There was a small dent in the wall where his fist had made impact, and there was a dull, throbbing pain in Steven's hand.

"Steven."

Winona took Steven's hand in both of hers, gently stroking it.

"Remember how you told me about taking breaks to focus on self care? Have you ever considered doing that yourself?"

"I'm a hypocrite, remember? I've even been cutting because of all of this shit."

Winona immediately rolled Steven's shirt sleeve up. Several fresh cuts ran up his arm.

"Steven…" she gasped.

"If you think I'm violent now, then imagine how bad I would be if I didn't let it out on myself." Steven forced a chuckle, despite the fact that tears stung his eyes. "I sometimes worry that I'm going to let out my anger on Wallace."

"Steven, you would never, would you?"

"They're intrusive thoughts. Very scary intrusive thoughts." A tear managed to crawl down Steven's cheek. "I've never… I've never told anyone about those thoughts, but sometimes I just want to… strangle him." He rubbed his eyes with his unrolled sleeve. "That makes me no better than Megalos, doesn't it?"

Winona hugged Steven. "It doesn't. You would never act on those thoughts, would you?"

"Never in a million years, but sometimes I worry I would."

"Have you ever thought of therapy?"

"I did OT in elementary school and CBT in high school."

"What about now? What about getting therapy and taking a break for a day every once in a while?"

"I don't think a day away is going to make Wallace realize he was abused."

"Then how about… a temporary breakup?"

Steven's eyes widened, and his heart stopped as he grabbed Winona's arms and stared into her eyes. "A breakup?!" Steven didn't hate Wallace; he only hated Wallace's thoughts. He just wanted to use his power in battles or money or whatever to make them go away. "Are you crazy?!"

"I said temporary. Maybe until Wallace realizes that he was abused… and after he's gone through the aftershocks that follow that, unless you would want to be there."

"Are you thinking of breaking up, too?"

Winona shook her head. "I think I'll be able to manage. I can just tell my mom that college is getting busy. So instead of worrying about family, Wallace, college, Gym duties, and myself, I can just worry about Wallace, college, Gym duties, and myself."

Winona looked down at Steven's feet. "And there's the matter of… Wallace's sexual… everything."

"Winona, I may be asexual or demisexual or whatever I am, but I'll be able to handle Wallace's trauma and readjustment to healthy intimacy."

"Are you sure?"

Steven leaned against the wall, sighing. "Maybe… the anger wouldn't mix well with intimacy post-assault and abuse. I don't want to become another Megalos."

"You won't."

"But what if I do?"

Winona smiled. "The fact that you're even introspecting about your anger automatically makes you better than Megalos. I don't think he was even capable of regret. And the fact that you're acknowledging it might be better to step back instead of suppressing things until they boil over…"

"But how will we break the news to Wallace?"

-

"Brother Wallace," Spenser said as he sat at Wallace's bedside, "is there anything else you wish to talk about with me?"

"Is Megalos going to heaven?" Despair dripped from Wallace's voice like wax on a melting candle.

Spenser winced. "Well… that's for the Angels of Tziráchi and the Judgement of Rekkoúza to decide."

"What do you mean?" There was confusion in his eyes. "He hurt me, but he did it because he needed to. For my sake. For Sootopolis's sake. He made sacrifices for Sootopolis."

"Megalos was selfish."

Spenser had seen countless Sootopolitans die of illness, illnesses that could have been prevented if the people in power cared. He had seen his church begin to crumble as they looked away. Megalos had power. Megalos supposedly cared for Sootopolis, unlike Hoenn. So why did those countless have to die? Why did the church have to crumble?

"He cared about Sootopolis," Wallace retorted. "He cared about me."

Spenser sighed. "You'll understand one day… I won't try to force anything on you, but focus not on what you lost, but the people around you, who love you no matter what."

"But Megalos—"

"Grief is a funny thing, you know? In my time, I've seen many people and Pokémon leave the physical world: my first companion, my parents, your parents, Megalos… I've felt different things every time. Grief is a primal, innate creature that brings out the deepest emotions of Man and Mon. And the grieving one creates waves of collateral for the ones around them…" Spenser chuckled. "I'm sorry for rambling."

"Keep rambling," Wallace's voice cracked.

"Why do you say that?"

"So I can stop thinking so I won't start cry—"

Spenser held Wallace tightly as he sobbed.

"It's okay to feel those deepest emotions," Spenser whispered. "All of them, none of them, some of them. It's okay… It's okay…"

-

Dinner was always loud, with the sounds of people talking and utensils and dishes clanking. At least it drowned out the sounds of people eating, otherwise Wallace wouldn't be able to eat.

Why did people make such a big deal about eating? There were too many events and rituals and other bullshit centered around eating. Why couldn't it be a private thing?

Wallace stared down at his food: rice, lemon-egg-miso soup, and grilled vegetables with spices. His therapist always talked about focusing on food—mindful eating or something. So he tried that. It soon turned into him staring at his chopsticks, and the traces of soup on them.

"You should let yourself have unconditional acceptance and permission to eat what makes you physically and mentally well."

Bullshit. Food wasn't something to make into unconditional love and acceptance. That was ambiguous, uncontrollable. It was a tool for survival, not something to enjoy. It was a necessary evil, a—

"Wallace, can Winona and I talk to you?"

The table was cleared except for Wallace's food, and the only people left at the table were Wallace, Steven, and Winona.

"Is everything okay?"

Steven swallowed, glancing over at Winona.

"Well…" Steven began, "I've been… thinking… considering… contemplated…"

Nausea clawed at Wallace's throat, and he hadn't even eaten half of his food.

"What?" he choked out. What was Steven doing what was Steven doing WHAT WAS STEVEN DOING?

"I think I need to take a break," Steven blurted. Before Wallace could say anything else, he held up his hands and said, "This isn't a breakup. This isn't permanent, but well… you saw how I reacted to the prayer for Megalos. You haven't processed Megalos's abuse as abuse yet."

Why did Steven keep calling it abuse? "It wasn't—"

"Exactly my point. I don't think it's healthy for you to hear my thoughts on Megalos when you're still processing yours. And on top of that… you have sexual trauma. A lot of sexual trauma. Even you can admit that, right?"

Wallace looked down at his lap, nodding. His head was filled with…nothing. Static-like, buzzing nothing. "Ren hurt… me… Miku. Lots of people hurt Miku. But—"

"And I don't think I'm in the right headspace to be able to give you the care you need to recover. But… Winona can. Winona can set boundaries that you can respect. My boundaries would be 'don't talk about Megalos', and that's… that's impossible." A pause. "I love you, Wallace. I want you to grow into the greatest, most beautiful version of yourself. And I think if you stay away from the hell of Sootopolis high society, if I take a break while you process your baggage while I figure out myself… I think you'll blossom."

"You think so?"

"Of course I do, Wallace," Steven chuckled.

"Then why do I keep loving Megalos? Why do I keep hating myself?"

"Because human emotions are weird. Take it from me."

"But why can't my emotions be normal?"

"What even is normal?" Winona asked. "Are we normal according to your standards? Because Steven and I aren't normal according to society's standards." She thought for a second. "We both have autism, you know. Not the first thing people think of when they think of 'normal'."

"The only normal thing in life is the Normal type," Steven teased. "And even then… take any Normal type Pokémon, and you're sure to find something not normal about them."

Wallace shook his head. "But I'm a drain on everyone around me. I can't even think like I should be thinking. I—"

"Deep breaths, Wallace." Winona's hand was on his shoulder. "Deep breaths. Your feelings are okay. All of them. You're okay. You're okay. You're okay."

Images and sounds blurred into one. Winona was Wallace's only tether to reality, the only person or thing reminding him that anything was real.

"Wallace, think of it like a little vacation. Steven's going to take a two-month break so he can focus on his Champion and Devon Co. duties. And you're going to take a break so you can process your trauma from Megalos and…" Several seconds of swirling spinning went on. Silent buzzing. Ineligible noise.

"Wallace? Wallace, did you hear Steven?"

"What…"

Wallace shook his head. "What did you say?"

"Do you want to discuss the terms of the break and boundaries?" Steven asked. "Stuff like how long it will last, what we will and won't do, how we'll re-evaluate once the two months pass. I'll be in touch with Winona, so I'm not completely cutting off contact. I just need… a break. A break to reflect on my own issues and figure out how to be a better boyfriend."

Silence followed. Stillness followed. Then Wallace took Steven's hand in his.

"And I'll do the same."