NOVEL NEXT Chapter 334
CHAPTER 334
"It's been so surprising to see you at all these public events—let alone an interview with SNN! People have long struggled to squint past your… elusiveness, but it really feels like you've begun to step into Craig Goodwill's shoes recently. What do you have to say to that?"
I stopped myself from noticing Mimi vibrating around my neck, and stopped myself from gulping too loud into the microphone as I brought it closer to my mouth. In front of me was a live audience of around fifty or so who had paid Poketch and the Sinnohan News Network—a different news channel than the SGNC—to be here. From high-level trainers to regulars of the show who had money to spend to whoever would be interested in seeing me talk on the Paloma Show live instead of on TV. In front of me was the woman herself, Paloma Kier. Dark-skinned, long-legged, and short-haired, she was a young rising star in the news industry thanks to the long-form podcast-like interviews she did with any personalities she deemed interesting. Tonight, that was me.
"I owe a lot to Craig." There was a lot to keep track of. My face, if I was smiling enough, if I was smiling too hard, the pace of my breaths, the twitching of my hands around the mic—I had to be tailored for television but not seem too unnatural. I still had to be myself, to some degree. Worthy of the position, but still a person. It was a tricky line to walk. "He offered me guidance when I was lost and just out of Mount Coronet, and he's been one of the trainers I admired the most, not only because of what he represented, but because I saw who the man was first-hand. His work ethic was second to none…" it felt good to finally be able to be real in this interview and talk about what I admired about my predecessor. There were only a few windows to say what I really thought here, like how I, for example, would have rather been doing literally anything else.
But at least one could say it was kind of acting practice, which I was trying to pack a lot of in my daily life these days.
Paloma beamed at me, waiting for the round of applause at Craig's accolades to diminish before she straightened her back on her comfortable couch. I tried not to wince at the loud feedback loop in my hearing aid, but I could tell from Paloma's apologetic stare that I failed. The studio was arranged somewhat like a lounge and a fireside chat in a cabin during winter, so it looked pretty cozy. It kept reminding me of how tired I was. Being a Poketch mule was hard work; I could almost picture myself drifting off to sleep next to the fire…
"We've talked about your work within Poketch and the way you train, but let's talk about you," Paloma said, before turning toward the audience. "Do we have any Grace fans in here tonight?" Around eleven people raised their hands, which was more than I expected. "Excellent, excellent! Does anyone have a question for her?"
A few hands went down, then nearly all of them—were they nervous to speak to me? Two were left, and one of the crew members discreetly passed them a microphone from behind before the camera feed switched to a trainer in his early twenties. I figured he was a trainer because he just had the look about him.
"Uh." He cleared his throat; he was clearly nervous. "My name's Andrew. Been following your Circuit since you disappeared into Coronet and were presumed dead and came out with a Larvitar. I guess that's relevant to the previous question about Craig." Andrew anxiously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "My question is—it's been a while since we've seen you battle. Seriously battle, not just train with your colleagues or fighting people in public arenas." That was true enough. There would always be a difference between training with no stakes and an actual Gym Battle or a fight to the death. "A lot of fans are nervous about your rematch with Byron, since it's going to be your last try. I guess I wanted to ask how ready do you feel?"
Oh.
That was tricky.
On one hand, the real answer was that I was utterly terrified because the consequences went beyond a badge and the Conference, beyond being demoted within the Poketch hierarchy. If I failed to reignite something here, if I screamed out into the world and all I heard back was the faint echo of my own tired voice, then—
Then what else was left?
But I couldn't just say that, could I?
"Of course, I'm always going to be nervous with such high stakes in a single thirty-minute match," I replied with an honest smile. "I mean, getting to the Conference in my first year's the kind of stuff dreams are made of; I'd love to make it a reality. I've been preparing as hard as I can in order not to disappoint myself and my fans."
I hated that answer. It was vapid and felt untrue to myself. I liked having fans, even if interacting with them wasn't my favorite thing to do nor my forte, and I didn't want them to think ill of me, but they were not the reason I was worried here. They didn't even occupy one percent of my anxieties.
"But my first loss to Byron taught me a lot of things," I added. "Hell, it basically saved my life—" I swallowed my next word when Mimi pricked me in the neck. Crap, I was not supposed to say that. "Um, that was a figure of speech. I get really into battling, haha…"
That salvaged it a little. I could have spoken about Coronet—the official story the League had peddled anyway—but that was the last thing I wanted. I'd had enough of things reminding me of that mountain; my only desire was to move past it.
The next question followed, this time from a chubby teenage girl. She was even wearing my merch.
"Is—is it okay to ask personal questions?" she asked, not introducing herself.
I resisted the urge to make eyes that may or may have not have had fighting intent at her and kept up my not-too-forced smile. There was no Melody with me to tell me yes or no to this, but I'd been vetted before this interview to take these whenever possible. Poketch was done coddling me, and Craig had taken a million questions about his life, even if he ended up dodging a good majority of them. With a restrained sigh that thankfully didn't make it through the microphone, I nodded.
"I think I spear for a lot of us when I ask: what exactly is going on with you and Maylene?" Her voice went quiet by the end of that sentence. She wanted to go on, but this had taken all of her courage.
Unfortunately, I was no Craig, able to dodge and weave in between questions that I didn't like all while satisfying my inquirer. I stayed silent for a moment, freezing while I recalled what Poketch had coached me to say.
"I've had a rocky relationship with Maylene in the past." Because of my own mistakes, which I wasn't allowed to say. They shouldn't have—shouldn't have been looking at me like we were somehow equally at fault. I swallowed the bile at the back of my throat. "Obviously people aren't blind," I forced myself to laugh. "We've gotten closer recently, but I'd like to keep that private."
The girl looked a little unsatisfied with that answer, but she sat back down after thanking me for my time. The interview continued in earnest for another fifteen minutes until I was finally freed, and I met Melody and the rest of my crew out of the SNN's Jubilife studio lobby. It wasn't as expansive as the SGNC's, especially when Jubilife was a lot more expensive. The SNN lobby was smaller and more straightforward, with clean lines, glass walls, and a few plants for decoration. It felt efficient but a little cramped—nothing like the wide halls and Magikarp pond of the SGNC in Veilstone. From her slightly crooked smile and quiet cheers from her colleagues, I knew I had done okay. It wasn't until we got back in one of the cars that Melody found it fit to speak to me in detail.
"You did a good job out there. Some hiccups, especially near the end, but overall it was a great interview. Paloma will be pleased, I bet." Melody looked in the rearview mirror directly at me. "Grace. Sit up and put your seatbelt on."
Maybe I'd lied down in the back of the car and curled up to ready myself to go to sleep. Just maybe.
"If there's a car accident, Buddy will keep me alive. Uh, I mean us alive. Probably," I quietly spoke with a sigh. I felt the water type rumble against my skin, telling me to put the damn seatbelt on. "Fine. But you're like a warm blanket, so you really aren't helping."
"Don't make him get out in the car!" Melody nearly shrieked.
"I won't! Arceus, relax."
Sitting up was tougher than I'd expected. I had to push slowly myself off the seat and blink away the tiredness. The moment my head hit a pillow, I'd be out like a light. My teeth chattered a little bit—that was a really bad expression for me to use these days.
"I can't believe you had your Jellicent there during the interview," Melody exhaled, her hand tapping the steering wheel. She was a little like my dad when she drived. "Well—I can believe it. As long as he's well hidden, I guess it's fine."
One of my fingers tapped my necklace, and Mimi dripped down, pooling onto my lap. I gave the steel type a gentle smile. "Thanks for helping me out there."
Their eye turned into a smug 'U' and they chimed.
"I don't have any snacks on me. Wait until we get home—I'll get you the rusted scrap you like." They didn't really like the taste as much as they liked purifying the metal and cleansing the rust.
"You had your tetanus shot, right?" Melody asked with a hint of worry.
"Yeah. I mean, it's in the vaccines they make you take when you sign up to be a trainer." I'd heard Unova had more on the list I would need to get. Back in the day, that would have terrified me, but today it was just a needle.
Melody continued speaking about the areas I could improve in while I distracted myself with my phone. There were texts from Denzel and Pauline—I had a pretty long conversation with the former about interviews and how he'd bring me on one of his streams again when I felt ready. He even made fun of how stiff I was for the first few minutes of the show. It was… good that he was comfortable enough to go back to that. There was also Jess and Marley, my parents, Bobby and Ramon—hell, even Jasmine, though her text was less about the interview and more about the stuff I had sent her about acting. As it turned out, that was out of her area of expertise, but she was interested in what I had prepared.
She said she might be able to make time for one training session for me to prepare against Byron. Normally, I would have been against this, wanting to do everything myself, but the stakes were just too high for me to refuse.
As I'd said before, it wasn't just about a badge.
Maymay <3 - Good job today! U gave some great answers
I sent her a sticker of a Pikachu holding a heart.
You - I tried my best, thank you. Was the answer about us fine?
I'd been typing an entire essay about the reasons why I'd answered that way—a combination of me being deathly terrified that I'd overstep boundaries and go too fast if I put a label on us and Poketch wanting at least a little bit of a delay before I confirmed anything despite the fact that people basically knew already, but—
Maymay <3 - It was! Jsut take ur time. I can wait, ur worth it
I sent her an 'I love you' and clutched my phone against my chest.
"It's hard work, isn't it?" Melody said all of a sudden. "All of this."
"It is," I agreed.
It took a lot of effort to have your story told, I was finding out.
—
Twinleaf was quiet at this time of day—
Actually, Twinleaf was always quiet. It was just what I needed after how hectic the last few days had been. Relaxing in the quiet lakeside town would also help me get ready for my date in Veilstone tonight. Poketch's rhythm had infected every aspect of my life, including my sleep schedule (not that I slept very much), so I'd spent the first few hours of the morning flying south from Jubilife and seeing my mother for the first time since I realized I was cheating. She had acted like nothing was wrong, given me a wonderful smile and hug that exuded warmth as she always did. Yet there was a gaping emptiness between us—the chasm always left by words left unsaid.
I needed to talk to her. Not next week, not tomorrow, but today.
But for now;
"You're doing it all wrong!" I gently scolded Sweetheart. The enormous mass of shifting stone plates stared at me, her eyes furious at my eighth rebuttal of her performance. "No yelling," I firmly added. The last thing I wanted was to scare the neighbors, and Denzel's parents were back in Twinleaf for the time being. Even from afar, I could see shifting behind curtains.
"You can't have Sunshine's role," I said. "Be happy I haven't given you Buddy's or Angel's!" I patted her arm, standing on my tiptoes. She growled at me and angrily glared at Turtonator, who was working together closely with Princess around a hundred feet away. All of my Pokemon were out, but I was spending the most time with "Come on, baby. I know it's tough, but you can do it."
It was difficult for Sweetie to be anything but an excited toddler or a violent beast. The silence and solemnity I would demand of her didn't come easy. It wasn't that her acting was bad—all of my Pokemon's acting was currently bad save for Cass and Buddy. Expecting them to be professionals when they didn't even have a month of training would be asking for the impossible. It was that after a while, she just lost focus and got bored of making faces and practicing attacks with the right… attitude. We were telling a specific tale that was meant to flow like water; it would completely break immersion if she got too excited during the fight and couldn't conceal her excitement at fighting an actually fun fight after so long.
Granted, she had fought a decent amount lately, most recently another kid with seven badges who had challenged me, but it wasn't the kind of fight that got your blood pumping—if I even was capable of feeling that. I always kept these battles to one on ones because I couldn't afford to have a huge chunk of my team in the Pokemon Center at a time when I had so few days. He had been very confused when I'd looked frustrated after winning—it reminded me of the Solaceon Tournament days before everything had gone to shit.
"Why don't we do this." I stepped around her, jumping over her tail and climbed on top of her back, grabbing on each of the jagged spikes behind her until I could speak into her ear. She giggled at me, flashing sharp teeth the size of my face. She was still growing. "Emotions are a spectrum; they bleed into each other easily. There's a reason they say hate borders on the frontier of love. Sure, they're opposites, but the obsession needed for both is one and the same."
The rock type grunted, and I felt her entire body vibrate against me. She asked if that meant she could be more herself.
"Not exactly," I said. "But ideally, you'll represent an element of transition between two states of mind." It would either be her, Honey or Angel. The thing about turning battles into stories out of my own volition was that it was so difficult. Battles had so many variables that every Pokemon needed to be ready to act out different scenarios just in case things didn't line up correctly. Save for Sunshine—and Sweetheart because I knew she wouldn't be able to handle two of these quite yet—all of my Pokemon were working on two to three roles that would need to lead not perfectly, but at least well into each other depending on how the fight went. "That means that you aren't a static character."
I saw her eyes squint in confusion.
"Like Sunshine, you're going to change during the battle—that's called character development. Slowly but surely, you'll become someone else." I explained my plan, and her mouth slowly spread into a toothy grin. "That feel better to you?"
Sweetheart gave me an exaggerated nod and thanked me.
"See? Compromise feels nice, doesn't it?"
She began her work earnestly again. It was interesting to see what kind of actors my Pokemon were. There were method actors like myself, who with prep work and mental exercises became someone else like Buddy. Classical acting with exagerated gestures, laughs and voices, like Cassianus or Princess. Those who enjoyed improv and essentially winged it like Honey and Angel, or Pokemon who just stayed true to themselves and tried their best like Sunshine and Sweetheart…
The truth of the matter was, so long as it worked, so long as things stayed cohesive and I succeeded in making this fight the match box upon which I would be able to strike myself.
I just hoped I hadn't bitten off more than I could chew.
Once I was sure Sweetheart was on a good path, I sent her over to Buddy and promised that I'd go and buy her steak she'd eat before heading to Veilstone this evening. Everyone was working well like—it was a thing of beauty, like watching a bunch of cogs help each other spin. The only one who needed to pick up the slack was me.
But right now, I needed to talk to mom.
"Hey."
My mother sat on the couch in front of the small TV with a book about home decoration. Herdier was lying next to her with his head on her lap, his body rising and lowering with each calm breath and his eyes half-shut. It was a lazy week-end in a sleepy town. Honestly speaking, I'd for sure go for a nap right now if I could afford to waste the time. I was jealous about many things Pokemon had, but their energy was probably near the top of that list.
"Grace." Mom smiled at me and placed her book next to her. "How's your training doing, sweetie?"
"Pretty good, all things considered. Could be going a lot worse." I took a few steps forward. "Can I, uh, sit? So we can talk?"
Her smile didn't fall, but it did falter. A simple twitch at the corner of her mouth followed by an unnatural stretch to put it back where it was, but it simply wasn't. It went too far. Not ideal, really. "Always."
"I can tell you're expecting the worst! You shouldn't be," I said. "I just want to talk about a few things." The usual comfort found within a couch was nowhere to be found when I sat. I glanced toward my mother, who I had only seen this nervous a few times. Usually, always when she thought our relationship hung in the balance of a single conversation like when we reunited in Twinleaf or in Veilstone. "I'm not gonna ghost you again."
She let out a nervous laugh. "I know."
There was this thing with her, I noticed. She wanted to stay positive around others and hide away her pain. It was why I'd rarely seen her grieve her own mother save for the first few days after I'd come back from Coronet, or why the last time I'd asked her about it she had only answered with 'I'll be fine, don't worry about me.'
"You were worried!" I pressed. "Because I didn't text you much. I needed space to just digest everything, so…"
She cleared her throat and ran her fingers through Herdier's fur. "And have you? Digested everything, I mean."
Would I ever untangle the mess of a person that I was? Maybe not ever, but at least I had come to terms with my actions and what had happened with Maylene and Cecilia.
I gave her a nod. "I guess I should start with—with an apology. I'm sorry I kind of dropped off the face of the earth recently, and I'm sorry I lied to you about Maylene. It wasn't… an intentional lie, but it was a lie. I wanted to hide myself from the truth that I'd fallen in love with someone else."
Mom grabbed my hand and squeezed. "Thank you."
"Can we talk about my—my childhood for a bit?"
"Of course, Grace."
"Okay. I guess… well it wasn't too bad, but it was kind of empty before I got Princess?" I tried to look out the window for her, but she was too far away for me to see. Instead, I saw Honey and Angel throwing Mimi between each other like the steel type was some kind of ball. Slackers, I thought with a slight smirk. "I dunno. For a while dad just worked long hours. I'd hear about promotions or whatever, and we'd move to a better apartment, but I don't remember much. At some point his eyes got brighter again and he started taking me somewhere most weekends. Eating out, bowling, the movies, watching battles—it was fun, but there was something missing."
"Me," she guessed.
"I'd see moms pick up their kids in a car after school while I had to take the bus because dad was working. I'd hear girls complain about how annoying their mom was or just talk about them sometimes. I'd see mothers taking their kids to their Little League battling club or football practice or whatever. And you know, it wasn't—it wasn't a big deal, you know?" I was far from the only kid who grew up without a mom. It was far from a unique circumstance to be in. "But it wasn't nothing, either. It was something. It was an itch. There was a certain uncomfortableness to it that I tried to hide by hating you instead."
It wasn't like she hadn't done anything deserving of scorn. But I'd done it too, now. I put myself through what she'd done and I could understand far better than I ever thought I would. Not condone it, never that, but understand. And while dad had told me I could see her whenever I wanted from the getgo, I kept saying no and making up my own image of her in my head. Because it was easier to hate than to confront the reality. Easier to hate a fake when you were so deathly afraid that you would also hate the real person and that you truly, truly would never have a mother to hold you in her arms.
"I could have kept trying to contact you," she said, hand squeezing tightly. "At some point I just gave up trying as hard. It just hurt every time no answers came. Every time Arthur said you didn't want to talk. And he—he just has this way of talking to you that makes you so sorry for disappointing him that he hadn't lost then and still hasn't lost now."
Ah. The tone.
"The point is—I don't know. I don't even know if there is a point to any of what I'm saying, which is rare for me." My foot tapped anxiously against the floorboards. "I'm a lot. I'm just a lot. And I think I put you as the blame of everything wrong in my life before I became a trainer. Why dad looked so broken when he thought I wasn't looking, and how I felt like he had to force himself to take me out. Why I had no friends. Why I couldn't get interested in anything like clubs at school. Why I just felt like going straight home every time the bell rang and I kept denying invitations until they just stopped coming. Why I was just lost in life like a fleck of dust drifting in the wind."
My mother sniffled—she cried very easily, as did I. "I was the cause."
"Maybe. But then it's like, for how many years can I keep blaming you for everything wrong with me, you know? Like… I can't just put that on you. I could have done more, but it took dad getting me a Togepi and basically lighting a fire under my ass—butt—crap, sorry."
Her laughter broke the tension. "You can swear, Grace. I'm not going to get on your case with that."
"Dad doesn't like it. But I guess you aren't dad." I could almost hear him yelling language from the other side of the room.
"You've sworn in front of me before."
"Did I? I completely forgot," I chuckled. "Uh. Anyway, I don't know. I just… wasn't doing much of anything until dad forced me to go on the Circuit. God, he was so happy when I brought Denzel back." He had tried to hide it by being mad I had just forced him to accept Denzel would be staying with us—and to be fair, he was plenty angry—but he had accepted without much of a fight because it had literally never happened before. I'd just never brought a friend home. "There's no… no grand ending to this vent, I guess. No way to neatly tie it all together. I'm just… I've been wanting to talk to you about it."
"We can talk all you want," she said, pulling me close and kissing the side of my head.
"Cool." I tried ignoring how fuzzy my chest felt. "I have a lot of time until my date tonight."
"Ah, this Maylene!" mom said. "You know, she came into our house and I expected her to be… this figure grander than life, but I realized pretty soon that she's just a kid like you." We both laughed at that, and I teased her for having been so nervous she'd literally rearranged the entire living room. "Tell me about her?"
"Sure!"
Once I started, it was nearly impossible for me to stop.
Mom came to regret it as the minutes passed by the dozens.
—
The grocery store was cold and empty like the hearth that was my spirit, an extinguished flame that had died long, long ago. The frigid air from the freezers washed over me in waves determined to keep me down, keeping my body lifeless and broken. To keep me dark and quiet, with only faint echoing whispers from eons ago hinting of the girl I used to be. Passionate. Driven. Ardent. My fingers grazed the cold glass, carrying with it air that was apathy distilled down to its very essence, making its way into my lungs with every breath. Each inhale stung, the cold air settling deep in my chest like shards of ice.
"That is your idea of me." Each word was like pushing against a mountain. The eyes staring back at me—my dear reflection—were as dead as they could be. There was empty, and then there was empty. The death of an idea, the end of the light in my gaze. "The whispers are here for a reason, aren't they?"
I was my worst enemy. The cold was heavy, smothering ambition in its crib, but fire could be born from nothing. A single spark, swallowing all of the oxygen for miles and miles. It burned so hot, yet went out so fast. It had gone out within me, too. Flame demanded sacrifice, and I was not sure I had anything left to give.
But.
All you needed was a breath—a moment, a chance—for the spark to catch again. Just one flicker of courage, of will, to set it all ablaze. I could feel it, faint and trembling, like a heartbeat just beneath the surface—
"Hey."
The world brightened, and I became someone else. No, I turned back to my true self.
Maylene gently booped my nose with a flicker of amusement. "Take a break. You can't be training all the time; I sent you here to get some vegetables!" There were plenty of groceries in the cart she was pushing. Soy sauce, garlic, fresh ginger, sesame oil, water—
Oh.
Right. We were in a grocery store because we were grocery shopping.
I smiled. "Sorry. I'm trying to find a thread—really, it's like spinning yarn until you finally get something that lasts. I was getting really into this one." I noticed a few people looking at me weird as they passed by. By now, the emotions clouding my mind from acting were nearly all gone. "Uh, so what was I supposed to get again?" I glanced at the refrigeration unit.
Smiling, Maylene shook her head with an exasperated sigh. "Broccoli and carrots. You had, like, the easiest job."
"Sorry," I said.
Maylene grabbed my hand. "It's okay. It's why I love you," she said, sending my heart into a frenzy. "I've got these." She opened the freezer and grabbed a packet of frozen carrots and broccoli. "Could have gotten them fresh, but this is easier and cheaper."
"I'm surprised people here don't even spare you a glance." In the ten minutes or so we'd been here, no one had even tried to accost Maylene besides a small kid who had vowed that he would be a fighting type specialist just like her one day. His dad had embarrassingly apologized for the bother, but Maylene made sure to talk to him for a few minutes at least. I had steered clear, unwilling to repeat the many incidents I'd had with kids back in Twinleaf for Renewal Day. Maybe I'd ask her about it. "I thought you'd get more… fanfare."
"They're used to seeing me here," she said. "I come by at least once every few weeks to buy stuff in bulk for meal prep. I'm actually here earlier than planned because of this." She nudged her head at the cart.
That made sense. This was the closest grocery store to the Gym, and it was the same I'd seen Candice in back when I'd been consumed by the want to apologize to Maylene. Legendaries time sure flew by fast. It was nice and quiet, though. Peaceful enough not to make my hearing aid flare up and destroy my ear like it sometimes did in crowds that got too loud. Plus—
Mimi warbled, like the sound of scrap metal falling on the ground, and I had to once again tell them to sit still on my head.
"Wait! Don't change the subject," she caught on. "I'm serious; you've been working too hard."
"Not that hard," I grumbled. She put the carrots and broccoli packages in the cart, and I followed her deeper into the store. "It's just… putting myself into a different mindset. I get really focused and I lose track of where I am sometimes, but it's not, like, exhausting."
"You train all the time, and you've got your Poketch stuff, so you have zero free time. Then, even outside of training when you should be taking time for yourself, you keep prac—you keep doing this."
"Well, there's not a lot of time," I said. "And you saying that is kind of funny. I literally have to call you so you remember to eat on time."
"That's—fair," she had to admit. "I'm just worried about you. I just don't want you to burn out. You went from zero to a hundred pretty quickly."
I leaned against her, head lying on her shoulder. The sleeve of her t-shirt felt so comfortable. "Come on, I wasn't at zero." It was true that before Poketch had forced me to get active, I hadn't been doing much, but… "I was still doing stuff."
"I'll give you ten."
"Twenty!" The edge of her breath brushed against my head as she laughed, and my knuckles bumped against her hand. I wanted to hold her so bad—these little touches and grazes constantly kept me at attention.
"I'll give you twenty," she relented near the end of her laughter. "The point still applies! No more acting tonight; we have a date." The telling smirk on Maylene's face let me know that a jab was coming. "Also, it'd be awful if you got in the zone and messed up dinner. I mean, I'd make fun of you—"
I pulled my tongue out at her. "Careful. I could always poison your dinner tonight."
"Meh. I could take it."
"Tofu with a hefty dose of Buddy's Poison Sting sound good to you?"
"Maybe if it comes from you."
"Ugh. Stop sweet-talking me," I said, unable to the pull on the edge of my lips.
"I can't be bantering every time. I gotta keep you on your toes," she said. I stopped sticking to her not to encroach on the Small Touches clause, and she perked up. "Hey, since we're already here, I might as well keep buying stuff so I don't have to go again until the Conference. You don't mind?" I shook my head. "Cool. What about you, Mimi?"
The steel type chimed happily, wriggling on top of my head. We continued talking about anything that came to mind as Maylene gathered the stuff she usually had someone make for her—chicken, oats, yogurt, avocado, fish, nuts—I made sure to make a mental note of it all. Mostly, I just let her rant about nutrition and asked her questions about it because I knew she loved to talk my ear off about how I needed a good diet if I was going to live a long life. Somehow, that got me to bring up my research about method acting again and living through a character's head.
"When you found me in the frozen aisle again, was I convincing?" I asked.
"Scary convincing." We were making our way to the last thing Maylene needed now—oranges that she pressed to make juice in the mornings. She was a lot better at picking the best fruit, so I just held the plastic bag open for her. "My brain actually started panicking a little before I remembered it was probably just you acting again."
"I mean—it's kind of intuitive to me. I'm not becoming someone else—I'm not good enough for that yet. Just finding a facet of myself to give everything to."
"Hm. That's pretty scary, honestly." She paused. "Make a face at me. An angry one," Maylene asked. I tied the plastic bag and put it in the cart, which was now so full I'd find it difficult to push around if she wasn't there. Once finished, I made an angry, pouty face at her. "Ah," she sighed with a hand over her mouth. "That's so cute."
"Hey!"
"What? You are!"
"Don't make me do the killing eyes at you," I threatened. She squirmed in place as if her whole body was tied down.
"Don't call them killing eyes."
"That's literally what they are."
"They're battling eyes. Completely different."
They made her feel good regardless of what she wanted to call them. "Anyway! I need at least a good minute to get into the mindset. Ten is ideal, really. Maybe I'll need more against Byron," I explained as we made our way toward the checkout line.
"Uh, and this is how you're going to be fighting in every battle?" Maylene asked.
"Maybe not every, but like, ninety percent of them? Actually, scratch that number. All of the ones that matter, at least," I said, feeling my heartbeat quicken with anxiety. "Why? I mean, I know I tend to get lost in stories, but I—I've been getting better—I wouldn't make a mistake or seriously injure someone or kill—"
"No, no!" Immediately, she grabbed my hand and let her warmth diffuse through me. Sparks of blue light diffused through her palm. "Arceus, I'm sorry. I don't mean that; I was genuinely wondering for—well, never mind. Just—you're okay. I didn't mean anything by it."
I took a deep breath. "I'm okay. God, it's been a while, huh?"
"Yeah. Let's make the next streak two whole days; I'm sorry for breaking it."
"Sorry enough to let me cook something for you once a week?" I wriggled my eyebrows at her.
"You sure recover quickly now," she noted. "Maybe! We'll see…" I made puppy eyes at her, and her eye twitched. "Uh, sure. But only when the Conference starts and we're at the League."
I made a little choking sound, part disappointment, part confusion. "Hey."
"Hm?" She started putting our items on the belt, and a slightly wide-eyed clerk scanned each item, glancing at her every few seconds. She must have been new here. "What's up?"
"Sorry if I'm stepping over the line here, but—is there, like… a reason beyond my issues you don't want me to cook for you?" Maylene blinked a few times, her movements growing slightly slow. "I mean, I kind of noticed," I added. "Like, back before we were… trying things out, you'd refuse a lot of things. Like buying you things, or me wanting to bring you somewhere. That's all changed, but the food stuff hasn't."
She raised her hand, signaling me to wait until we were out of such a public spot. I felt a little ashamed of how much I enjoyed looking at her flexed arms with four bags balanced on each forearm. The subtle definition of the little amount of strain Maylene needed to carry such weight. Usually, I'd just ogle her without a second thought, but the coming topic would probably be hard on her, so I shut my eyes and willed myself to glance up at her face.
"Not too heavy?" she asked, looking at the one bag I was carrying. We could have Teleported back to her Gym instead of walking back, but it was the little moments like these that were everything. Plus, Maylene loved Veilstone. She enjoyed watching the people go out and about, because it gave her job meaning it wouldn't have if she spent her time Teleporting between her Gym and wherever she needed to go.
"Come on. I'm not that weak."
"Grace, I saw you struggle to open a juice bottle last week."
I ignored her totally hurtful but admittedly truthful jab. "So? The food thing?"
"It's just… I don't know. It feels like breaking my routine. That's scary." Her tone was pointed and short, and her usual air of confidence was gone, leaving only a certain smallness to her that was rarely seen. "For as long as I can remember, I've been on this program. I eat the same stuff every week. On monday, it's yogurt and oats for breakfast; chicken and steamed vegetables for lunch…" she went on and listed her entire schedule which she had committed to memory.
Every day.
Every week.
Every month.
For years.
It was the exact same thing. How fucking dull was that? Nothing to look forward to, nothing to savor—just the endless repetition of what she had to eat to stay as healthy as possible. No exceptions, no cakes on her birthdays, no ice cream, no sweets, no pizza, nothing. Eating for the sake of honing your physique was fine, but this was torture. Even the tofu I was making today was just her Wednesday dinner moved to Sunday!
Admittedly, that last fact hurt me a little. I thought I'd been making something she genuinely loved, not her favorite thing she picked off her rigid meal plan! But I also knew from the way she looked and acted that this was a difficult topic for her. Maylene would definitely focus on me if I showed any signs of weakness out of genuine worry, and she'd gotten good at spotting those. I'd keep my complaints for later tonight when things were stable and calmer.
"Maylene. Have you ever eaten something for fun?"
She balked at me, her eyes narrowing as if I were crazy. "For fun?"
"Yeah! Because it's tasty?"
"Food's not meant to taste good; it's fuel," she said, and I could tell she was parroting something her father had imparted upon her. "I'll be fine. It's honestly not bad—you shouldn't make it into this whole thing."
"I'm not. I'm just saying that… an exception once in a while would do you some good?" I tried. "Is—is this something Oscar did, or—"
"It was! But it's also me," she cut me off. Her pace quickened slightly, and she nearly left me behind before she realized she walked too fast for me to keep up. "Sorry."
"I don't mind. Just—give it some thought, maybe?"
Her lips flattened, and her brows creased into a pensive frown. "Okay."
"Promise?"
Now, she winced. She knew I had her. "Yeah."
"Say it out loud, or it might as well be smoke and ash. You've got to speak it out into the world.
"I promise that I'll give it some thought."
Beaming and yelling out a joyous "Yay!" I grabbed onto her arm—which was awkward with all of the grocery bags she had with her—and hummed.
"What are you, an extra bag?" she teased.
"A bag that loves you very much, maybe." There was a short pause as we waited for a light to turn green to cross the street. "Hey, random question. When you talk to a kid, how do you… like, what's your angle of approach so they don't end up scared of you? Your plan?"
Maylene clearly held back a laugh; her eyes diffused pure unabated joy, and she dragged me close into a quick hug—quick, not because of the contract, but because she got embarrassed about physical contact in public. Even holding hands. It was mostly fine when I was the one initiating, but she rarely did the same except when I was visibly distressed and needed reassurance. The plastic of the bags touched my back and was generally weird, but the warmth and love seeping from her skin made up for it.
Maylene was a blushing mess when she was done with the hug. She pulled a strand of hair down her forehead and fiddled with it, using the bags to hide parts of her face. If she'd tried saying anything, she'd be sputtering out nonsense.
I still had two kisses left, but—
Not yet.
She was just so cute about touching!
—
"So? How is it?"
I eagerly leaned forward on the table as Maylene pinched another piece of tofu dripping with sauce in between her chopsticks. Honey was to the side, staring as intensely at her as he would look an opponent in the eye during a fight—had he gotten that from me? Maylene let it sit inside her mouth for a second before she chewed. She knew she held our attention in the palm of her hands, that little scoundrel, because she smugly looked at the two of us and stayed as quiet for as long as possible.
We could have tasted our portions first, but it wouldn't have been proper. I'd never had tofu before and I'd followed the recipe to the letter in hopes of impressing her, but…
"It's good!" Maylene finally said.
I deflated. "Just good?"
Honey instantly dug into his own meal, which looked way too small for his size because of the size of the bowl.
"Come on." Maylene pointed her chopsticks at me. "Yeah, it's good. But if I acted out and pretended like it was the best thing in the world, you'd see right through me, wouldn't you?"
"I probably would. Is it—better than what you usually get?"
"...yes?"
"What was that about not lying?" I exclaimed. I shoved a piece of tofu in my mouth with quinoa and… the taste was okay, but the texture felt wrong? The quinoa and the sauce were pretty good, at least, but the tofu was too rubbery. "Oh. Yeah, that's pretty meh. Not even good, really. Sorry, Maylene."
Honey nodded with a slightly apologetic grunt, saying that it was our first time cooking that type of food and that we'd do better the next. He had already inhaled all of it, though, unwilling to let his own cooking go to waste or to be given to someone else.
"No, it's genuinely good! I think it's because I looked at how hard you worked when you made it?" she said, taking another bite. With a mouth full, she added, "I can tell it came from the heart. I'd eat buckets of these."
"So I can cook more for you? Uh, sometimes we," I said, glancing up at Honey. The electric type gave me a hearty thumbs up. "You have quinoa stuck in your teeth." His smile fell, and his tails curled up in embarrassment. A tiny whir came up his throat.
"Sure! You know what, whenever you come over or there's an opportunity to, you can make us something. And hell, I don't want to make you do everything. I could help eventually; I never learned how to cook."
"Actually, on that topic. You kind of hurt me today."
Her face fell. "Oh. What did I say?"
Once I explained to her that I thought tonight would be unique and not just some other routine meal she always ate, she digested my words for a few seconds in silence, twirling her chopsticks in her bowl in what I assumed was a way to assuage her anxiety.
"I can see how—" she stopped herself. "Yeah, I'm sorry, Grace. I didn't think of it that way."
"It's okay. I mean, it was technically your favorite meal, even if we botched it." We both chuckled at that. "Just… you kind of sold it as something… not routine? And I felt a little blindsighted."
"I totally get you—I won't do it again."
Wow.
That was so easy. The sliver of anxiety I'd felt at her potential reaction fizzled out into the wind, and I took another bite of this horrible tofu.
"Wanna watch a movie or something when we're done? I need one where there's a character who's lost their drive so I can learn," I said.
"I can call Candice. She'd be the one to know one of those," Maylene said. "I'm surprised you don't, actually."
An amused scoff left my throat. "I haven't been regularly watching movies in like a year, and those were never my type."
"Sounds like excuses to me."
"Don't make me come over there," I warned.
"Don't make me come over there," she mimicked in a mocking drawl. "What're you gonna do about it anyway?"
My hand twitched against the table, and she froze—unfortunately, Honey cleared his throat to remind us of his presence, and the moment was gone. We finished dinner and put our dishes in the wash before Maylene went and grabbed a big blanket from her bedroom and I called Candice for movie suggestions.
"Uh. I guess I can give you one or two names off the top of my head," the ice type Gym Leader said. "Uh, A Star is Born, Flyingman, Unovan Beauty—"
"A Star is Born?!" I yelled. "I'm picking that one!"
"Damn. I was gonna list off more—"
"Thanks, Candice. I really appreciate it!"
"Grace, I think you're probably misunderstanding the point of the movie…"
That title was too perfect not to pick it. I ignored Candice's jokes about 'keeping my hands off her sister' and hung up when she ran out of steam. It was date night, so for Honey, it was back into his Pokeball, and Mimi was already asleep as a loose bracelet around my wrist from all the excitement of the grocery store. Now that I was in a better place mentally, I'd better show them more new things. Like… bowling, maybe. They'd probably get a kick out of that and it'd make a good date, even if it was kind of soured by being Cece and I's first.
My Streamix account was already hooked up to her TV from a previous date, so getting the movie was simply a matter of finding it on the list. It felt good to be cuddling with Maylene under the blanket. I was mostly clinging to her under there, tucked into her warmth like I was trying to absorb it while she whined about my cold feet even though I knew for a fact they didn't bother her. I was curled into her side, my arms wrapped tightly around her waist as if I could hold on forever. My head rested on her chest, tucked beneath her chin, and I could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, the rise and fall of her body, and the subtle drum of her heartbeat. Maylene held me with a firm yet gentle grip, her arm wrapped securely around my shoulders, fingers resting lightly on my upper back. Occasionally, she'd play with my hair a little—she could go all out now that we were alone.
It was explicitly allowed in the contract, too, just not every time we saw each other, and there was an opportunity. There was a difference between this and practice. Practice was—intense. And harsh. And…
Well, better not think about that right now.
Tonight was just a lovely experience. One of the things that just made everything worth it was having a partner to rely on at the end of the day. One you could say anything to, really. That was the difference between this and Cece, even if I still missed her so, so dearly and it hurt to remember her. It was also comfortable with Cecilia, just like it was now, but maybe too comfortable. My eyes shut for an instant as I recalibrated my mood. This was date night; there was no use crying about a love I'd—we had ruined. Plus, Mesprit always complained when my mood got in the way of movies.
The past was the past. The present was what needed to matter.
So—the movie. It wasn't what I expected.
It was… really depressing?
It followed Stella, an aspiring coordinator working a dead-end job in Floaroma, who was discovered by Eric, a once-legendary Pokemon trainer ala Craig whose career was fading due to the death of his Staraptor. He spotted her during one of her routine practices after work and was instantly grabbed by her potential. He mentored her as they traveled from city to city, helping her hone her skills and guiding her rise to stardom.
Ironic, considering he was trainer and she was coordinator, but nowhere was it written that they weren't allowed to help each other.
Stella's fame grew, but Eric struggled with his own declining relevance. Stella's success culminated in her reaching the top of the contest scene in a single year, while her mentor, though proud of her achievements, accepted that his time in the spotlight was over, finding peace in passing the torch to a new star.
It—kind of made me tear up, really, even if I'd gotten a lot of good information on how to behave myself if I were to be a fading star. I really thought he'd use her intricate knowledge of TE that quickly surpassed his to reignite his passion for battling, and he tried, but there was just nothing.
For my acting, I had the body language down but not the voice he'd used. The desperation had been there, but it needed a mixture of agony and vapidness that I hadn't owned quite yet. Not only that, but the way his Pokemon acted would be of great help to some in my own team; I would need to get them to watch this tonight when I got back to my mom's. She had a projector I'd be able to use outside.
The movie just hit all the right notes to get to me—Eric's story ended, and he instead used the last bits of himself that could be lit to fuel another.
I needed to stare that fate in the eye and deny it with my full chest. To prepare my utmost to rage against it, I had to gather every ounce of strength and passion that remained within me.
The next battle would either be my firestarter or the final ember snuffed out.
"I didn't think we'd actually get one that made you cry," Maylene muttered. "You were so quiet."
"I was studying."
"I can tell it got to you. Sensitive subject—I can't believe Candice suggested this! She knows you well enough to—"
"I might have gotten too excited at the significance of the title to listen."
After a short lapse of realization, she breathed out a laugh and kissed my forehead. "Dummy. Need any tissues?"
There was a slight buzz where she'd kissed me. The lingering shape of her lips branded onto me. "Let me use you as a bed."
"I'm pretty sure that goes against Cuddle Time's rules."
Rules could be bent quite easily with the right words, especially when the language we'd used in that section of the contract was so vague, but I nodded and remained against her for the time being as we watched the credits roll. We had a good laugh at the after-credit scenes that had Stella and Eric bond over funny moments in their lives past the movie's plot.
Maylene's head turned toward me. "Sad or not, that was really good. Candice knows what she's talking about—"
I lunged in and kissed her.
Sometimes, she was too irresistible to ignore—especially after she'd gone in with that forehead kiss. I smirked when she got a little red and struggled to find her words for a few moments.
"I—um, that—was nice—"
And another—my last one, just to catch her off guard again. I made sure this one was extra long, skirting right below the usual time limit, and had my hands wrapped around her under her shirt with my nails slightly digging into her back just like I knew she liked. My lips twisted into another smirk as I licked them as soon as they parted.
"I get it!" she mumbled, slightly breathless as her lips struggled not to quirk into a dumb grin. "Legendaries." She looked a little cornered on the couch, given I was kind of crawling on top of her. Her stomach peeked under her shirt, and there was a perpetual tug of war in my eyes to either look at her mouth and face or her tummy or her arms or her legs or her—maybe everywhere, actually.
"Maymay. We need to figure out the Making Out Clause soon," I simply said.
"...yeah."
I'd said that we'd take it slow and that we wouldn't have a moment like our first kiss again for a while, but by every Legendary, holding back was tough. Thankfully Cuddle Time was over now that the movie or whatever activity we were doing was as well, so I wouldn't have to worry about going too fast and making a mistake. There was only around twenty minutes left in the date before she Teleported me back to Jubilife, so things winded down and I just did by obligatory scrolling through Chatter to track what people were saying about me or to occasionally reply to a fan message Melody had approved and sent me via link. The algorithm had kind of filtered most things save for fan art or things Maylene's alts, Candice's alts, Gardenia, or Denzel retweeted out of my feed.
"Hey." Maylene straddled the backward-facing chair, her arms draped casually over the top of the backrest as she leaned in. "Are you ready to see Nia tomorrow afternoon?"
I raised an eyebrow and glanced up at her. "I think. I mean, Candice gave me some pointers that ended up being just be myself."
There was a nervous tint to her eyes. Gardenia was the person she was closest to; she most likely didn't want me to royally fuck up.
"Maymay, you being nervous is making me nervous too. I thought I'd worked through that stuff."
"Sorry!" she sputtered. "I'm sure you'll do great and have a great time."
"I hope so… I wonder if she could give me acting tips." Gardenia wasn't someone who became another during a fight, but her mastery of the human condition was second to none in this country. "Plus, knowing how others react to things would help me read the flow of a fight better. I still need to get better at body language." I could probably nab some advice from her depending on how things went—
"You'll be fine," Maylene repeated, almost as if to soothe herself. "Nia just needs to get to know you—the real you. I talk about you a lot, but she won't approve until you meet in person. It'd be really important to me for her to support us."
Okay, now I was really anxious. "I—I won't disappoint her. Do you have any pointers beyond 'be yourself' now I don't know if that'll be enough. Should I dress casual or fancy—"
A post caught my eye—and it made the fact that Cecilia Obel had been trending make a whole lot more sense. I'd tried to ignore, focusing instead of my job, but this was…
What was this? It was a video of her and Temperance Porter. I wanted to scroll past it—I wanted to. But the thumbnail had them so close. Temperance was looking at her with something in her eyes—admiration? Passion? Love? My thumb hung over the play button like a herald of death.
I pressed it.
"Grace?"
My volume was low enough not to hear what they were saying beyond a few words, but their body language told me all I needed to know even if the captions announcing Temperance's new girlfriend hadn't been there. They were dating. Dating. The idea didn't compute in my head, like I couldn't ever have imagined Cecilia with someone else. Had I ever seen her laugh or smile this much with me? Why did she look so happy? Temperance was—she must have been something else. Better than I was both in her career and looks. Her face was basically flawless as if she was made to be looked at. Not only that, but she was one of the best coordinators in the industry. She must have been used to life in high society, too; I bet they were a way better match than we ever were. She'd be good for Cecilia. Good. Good. I bet Unova would find it a lot more palatable, which went hand in hand with Cecilia's goals. Temperance was a better fit than a worthless monster like me could ever hope to be. If Cecilia hadn't met me—
The tears dripped down my cheeks and onto my lap. My phone fell face down on the floor.
Maylene hadn't understood. Not yet. But she hugged me anyway, staying quiet with her arms wrapped around me until I was well enough to speak between the sobs and the hiccups. It felt like Cecilia was breaking up with me all over again.
"What happened?" Maylene asked.
I wanted to brush it off and to say nothing, to act like I'd never found that post, but I had already told her I still had feelings. Lying would do us no good, especially when she wasn't stupid.
"Cecilia," I sniffled, "is dating someone else."
I wanted to call her and to say 'already?' To berate her for acting like I didn't exist. But I knew that would be the epitome of hypocrisy and made no sense coming from me. Maylene stayed quiet for a long while, allowing me to hold her back. How was she so nice to me all the time? Even when tears flowed down my face because of another girl, she just…
held onto me.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I know it probably hurts."
Ugh. I'd gotten tears and snot on her T-shirt. Maylene looked into my eyes and smiled. "I'm not gonna lie and say that I'm not at least a bit jealous," she whispered. "But I know it's tough for you. It really isn't about me."
"How is it not about you?" I cried out. "It's—we're… together, and I'm crying about Cecilia moving on! Like I'm—I'm sick," I slowly realized. "I would have felt better had she never gotten with someone else while I was enjoying myself with you! How awful is that?"
"I mean—Gardenia would have the answers. Not that you should tell her about this!" Maylene quickly added, her body tensing. "But I think that… I don't know, maybe it's normal? I already said that I don't expect you to move on that fast."
"Then why is she?" I asked.
"Maybe she isn't? Maybe she's like you—we won't know." Her hand gently rubbed my back. "Either way, it's… it's okay to feel things. Just—don't leave me?"
My eyes widened. It was a rare hint of insecurity from me, and her arms tightened around me.
I steeled myself. "I won't."
"Even in Unova?"
"Hmhm. I love you."
"...wanna stay an extra hour?" she asked, her voice meek. "We can talk some more. About happy stuff."
I smiled. "Yeah. Let me text my dad."