Pirate Jaya AU

Pirate Jaya AU

Summary: There are three things Jay Walker knows right now in this point of his life. Number one: He hates pirates. Trapped on Nadakhan’s ship for a year, he has had enough of them for a lifetime. Number two: He is going to escape. Sure, his plans to do so are ducktaped together by adrenaline and hope, but come hell or high water Jay is going home. Number three: Jay has inadvertently caught the attention of another pirate crew with powers, a crazy old man, and the most beautiful and fierce pirate woman in the Endless Sea. He is so hooped right now.

Tags: Mentions of Abuse, Kidnapping, Hints of Trauma, Sexy/Badass Nya, “If-I’m-gonna-die-I’m-gonna-be-cool-doing-it” Jay

Inspired by the-modern-typewriter

***

His ears are ringing and the sunlight is blinding his eye, but he’s still able to make out Monkey Wretch’s screaming, Flintlocke barking out orders, and Dogshank’s heavy footsteps.

Jay sits up, dazed. He’s aware of something wet dripping down from his eyebrow, and his chest is still gasping from the shock of having his breath knocked out. Still, he staggers to his feet and looks around.

Clancee is beside himself, panicking; Monkey Wretch is leaping back and forth from the sails, screeching; Flintlocke is firing shot after shot with his pistols; and Dogshank and Doubloon are busy fighting. The rest of the pirate crew are scrambling to either fight or run from the chaos of the raid.

Well, raid is a more generous term. The word was massacre.

The deck of Misfortune’s Keep was splintered from the blast of cannons and spilled with the blood of pirates. The enemy ship had appeared out of thin air, only giving the crew a mere half hour to put together a proper defense before they were upon them.

Not that it mattered to Jay all that much. He is planning to escape. He does another round on the crew when he realizes: Nadakhan is nowhere to be seen. They were in the middle of a battle, where it is easy to get lost in the chaos. He can escape.

He can escape.

Jay snatches the satchel that holds his stash of food and bandages he’s been meticulously storing away before running. He has to get to the Quarter’s Deck, where the map to navigate the Endless Sea was. Without it, Jay would be lost. He’d die at sea before ever managing to reach land.

Jay leaps over broken bodies, ignoring the pain from his body. Ignores the rest of the crew as they fight for their lives. Monkey Wretch is trying to avoid a man with a metal falcon and Doubloon gets thrown back across the deck by a man with glowing arms.

Jay scrambles up the stairs, snatching the map off the desk and stuffing it in his bag. He glances at Clancee trembling behind Flintlocke and feels an ounce of pity. Clancee was the only one who was nice to Jay when he was on board — giving him extra food and bandages after rounds of Scrap n’ Tap. But still, Clancee would never leave with him. He was loyal to Nadakhan and the crew, and Jay wasn’t.

Jay runs as fast as he can — heart pounding, blood pumping, making his way to the rowboats desperately. He’s close, he’s so close to his freedom. After about a year of being captured by pirates and being their slave; he is over it. Jay yanks a bloodied sword out of a fallen pirate’s chest, nearly making it to the boats when —

He skids to a halt. There, right there between him and his freedom are two women. Dogshank — the most massive and terrifying woman Jay has ever met is throwing punches that would kill a normal man at a petite female.

The first thing Jay notices about this woman is the way she moves. Her steps are swift and steady across the bloodied deck of Misfortune’s Keep, unbothered by the rolling waves or the chaos surrounding them. It is the kind of ease which only came from having spent a significant amount of time at sea, and just as significant an amount of time with a sword in hand.

She cuts through Dogshank viciously, slicing and stabbing and not slowing down for even a second as she leaves her crumpling on the deck. This girl is fire and heat and hate woven in the shape of a human form. He watches as she mercilessly grabs the larger woman’s hair and sends her sword through her heart.

Jay is terrified. Jay is in awe.

The pirate woman whips to face him.

The second thing he notices is that she’s beautiful. Her skin is a rich tan color and her hair is night black, cut in a practical bob. She has a beauty mark under her left eye and a gaze so dark and consuming it feels like he has been swallowed by a black sea.

Jay swallows, takes a step back and tightens his grip on the sword. His heart crashes in his chest and he tells himself that it's the adrenaline that makes him shake, not the thought that this might possibly be the last day of his life.

The woman tilts her head and walks closer, making a quick assessment of him. Her lips are ruby red. But before she can do anything (like kill him) a voice rings through the violence.

“ENOUGH!”

Everyone pauses. There, emerging from the captain's quarters are two people: a blonde teenager with green eyes and an old man with steely eyes and a sharp countenance. The old man holds up a porcelain teapot in the sunlight.

“This is the Teapot of Tyrahn. A cursed artifact infused with the power to contain magical beings. The ancient markings on the side describe it's a powerful relic that can trap mortals. Your captain is now trapped in here, and you are outnumbered. Surrender the battle, or we will sink this ship — with you on it.”

While the old man is going through his speech, Jay takes the opportunity to peer closer at the teapot. It looks like an ordinary teapot, with strange inscriptions written on the side. As the old man raises it higher to the sun, Jay catches a flicker of orange reflecting inside the teapot.

No way. There is no way Nadakhan is in there. The Last Djinn, The Prince of Djinnjago, the Captain of Misfortune’s Keep — was defeated by a tiny teapot? That was all it took? Jay is gonna eat his shirt.

There’s a beat of where Flintlocke, the first mate, considers the proposal before he hesitantly lowers his guns. Every line in his face is etched with hate, but he’s smart enough to know that any more fighting would lead to his and the rest of his crew’s death.

They surrendered.

The old man makes a sharp movement with his head, and the blonde teenager begins yelling out orders to cuff the prisoners and take them to the brig.

Jay starts, panic shooting through him. How could he escape now? Nadakhan’s crew is captured, and technically, he is a part of that crew. He may be a cabin boy, but he still looks like a pirate with all the time spent in the sea and sun. He couldn’t be locked in the brig, he couldn’t.

The thing with pirates is that whenever they lose a battle the winning pirates maroon them on an island — and give them a gun with one bullet to end themselves. Jay didn’t know what fate would lay to Nadakhan’s crew, but he didn’t want to be a part of it.

Before he can take any more time (to panic), Jay feels a sharp point dig into his back. A sword. Jay grits his teeth and slowly turns around, hands raised, to see the pirate girl behind him. He didn’t even hear her coming.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Jay grumbles. The girl’s mouth quirks, ruby lips turning into a captivating half-smile. Her blade drags across his chest before hooking the strap of his satchel. A dead giveaway about what he was planning to do.

“I don’t think so. You’re a bit different from this crew. You’re meeting the captain. I’m sure he has some questions about what a runaway is doing on board.” Jay can detect a slight accent in her words, but before he can ponder about how disturbingly attractive it sounds she spins him around and begins walking him towards the old man by the wheel.

“Captain!” The girl calls, and the old man is pulled out of conversation with a man with black hair and biceps that can crush Jay. His eyes narrow as soon as he notices him, and Jay vaguely thinks that being poked with knives would feel less sharp than the way he was looking at him.

“I found this one by the rowboats. I think he was trying to escape.” The girl shoves him forward and Jay stumbles. Glancing at the old man, Jay notices how his sharp gaze seems more considerate as he strokes his beard.

“I see,” the old man says. “What is your name, boy?”

Jay keeps his head down. “Jay Walker, sir.”

“Jay Walker …” the old man smiles, and Jay feels more unsettled than he’d like. There’s something in that smile, like the old man had just realized something important with his name — like his name was a final piece of a map to some lost treasure.

“I am Wu, captain of the Destiny’s Bounty.” He introduces himself. Jay blinks in surprise when he hears the name of the other pirate’s ship.

The Destiny’s Bounty was the pirate ship of one of Nadakhan’s greatest rivals, Captain Soto. They were bitter enemies, often competing for the most gold and the title of most feared pirate in Ninjago. Lately, there had been a rumor across the seas that Soto had been overthrown and locked in Kryptarium Prison — Jay can take an educated guess and see that the rumor must’ve been true.

“This is my nephew and first mate, Lloyd —” Wu nods to the blonde teenager, “and my quartermaster, Cole.” He gestures to the man with black hair, who crossed his arms. “And the rest of my crew, Kai, Zane, and Nya.” Jay turns to see the two other crew members join them — a man with spiky hair and a man with a metal falcon.

Jay can’t do anything but nod. Why is he introducing his crew to him?

“Why are you on this ship, Jay?” Wu asks. Jay jolts — it's been so long since someone has said his name. Usually he was just called junkyard boy or cabin boy. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?” Jay asks. He wonders if he should lie — he doesn’t want to tell pirates anything about himself — before he decides against it. Perhaps if he told the pirates his sob story and that he wasn’t loyal they would take pity on him and let him go.

“I-I — they kidnapped me,” Jay stammers. “A year ago. I’m from the Sea of Sands, and I was just trying to sell some of my inventions at port when they took me. I’m just trying to get back home.” Jay tries to fight back the blow of aching grief whenever he thinks of his home.

Ma and Pa must be so worried — they probably thought he was dead. They worked so hard to provide for him, and Jay had just gone to port to sell his inventions to merchants. It would’ve scored big money if he managed to. Enough so that they could have meals without worry for months, and so Ma could buy whatever she wanted, and Pa could finally stop working until his hands bled. It was supposed to be for his family.

But then he got taken. Lured in by a promise, stolen because of his trust, desperate from his wish. Jay remembers Nadakhan’s silky voice, a blow from behind, and then waking up in the brig of Misfortune’s Keep miles away from land.

Captain Wu strokes his beard while staring at Jay thoughtfully. “Nadakhan took you … without you using a wish?” He asks.

Jay shifts, uncomfortable with the sudden turn of questioning. “Yes. I used two of my wishes while I was on board to escape, but he would keep twisting it until it was nothing like what I wanted. Eventually, I decided to save my third wish until I really needed it.”

Wu’s gaze sharpens impossibly at what Jay said. “You had a wish left and he still kept you on board? He never tried to get it out of you?”

Jay shakes his head. “He did try to get it out of me by manipulating and goading me.” He swallows at the thought of Nadakhan and his voice, the Scrap n’ Tap, the beatings. “But he never could.”

Wu hums and circles Jay, looking at him like he is a particular trying piece of a puzzle. After a minute he turns to his quartermaster, Cole. “Take off his shirt.”

Jay reels, positive he’s heard him wrong. “Wha —” He doesn’t even get a chance to finish his question before a hand grabs his collar and rips the front of his shirt open. At first, Jay is enraged. That was the only shirt he had, he was wearing that, who the heck did they think they were to rip that off him —

Then he hears the girl gasp behind him, sees the others gaping mouths in front of him, feels the burning eyes on his body before being hit by a wave of self-consciousness.

Oh.

His body.

It had been one week since the last Scrap n’ Tap, and his body showed it. Usually, the games went on for hours until Jay passed out and even then, the crew wouldn’t stop beating him until they got bored. Ugly bruises of all colors had bloomed across his body, a beautiful and horrific painting. Old scars littered his body — some from working in the junkyard back home, but the other, newer ones from his life with pirates. There were slash marks from knives he’d dodged, stab wounds from the ones he didn’t, and bullet shots from the few fights he’d been in.

But the worst was his back. Pale, thin lines scored across him, a lesson embedded deep into his skin and bones.

A flogging.

The first month after being on board, Misfortune’s Keep had docked at a small port off the coast of Ninjago City. Jay had ran. He ran as fast and hard as he could before being dragged back to the ship to face the captain’s fury.

Nadakhan had lashed Jay a total of twenty times, the knots from the whip digging into his skin and making the pain stronger. Even then Jay hadn’t shut up. Every smart remark and weak joke would infuriate Nadakhan more, and make him whip harder.

Jay had tried to escape over five times in the last year, and every time Nadakhan had caught him he added 10 more flogging to the additional number. So yeah, Jay’s back is a mess.

Jay feels his ears burn under the sun as the pirates take in his damaged body. He jumps when he feels a touch on his shoulder and turns to see the girl place a hand on the side of his face and stare at him with wide, beautiful dark eyes.

“Your eye,” she whispers. Her fingers slowly reach up and brush the leather of his eyepatch. “Did he do that to your eye?”

(Gleaming hook, on the floor, slashing downwards, blood, black, painpainpain —

“Believe me, aboard my ship you will break. I will make sure of it. And when that time comes I will be there so you can wish it away.”)

Jay flinches, and the girl gets her answer. She swears suddenly, violently, viciously, and the rest of the pirates look more horrified.

“Dude,” the man with the spiky hair breathes, “how are you even still alive?”

Jay ignores him and turns to the captain, who for the first time looks caught off guard. “So you can see,” Jay bites out, “I have no loyalty to this crew. I just want to go home.”

Wu drags his gaze from his bruised body before settling on his hands. Some of the light returns to his eyes and he furrows his brow. “Your hands … are covered with gloves …”

Jay feels his stomach drop out of his body. “I’m a cabin boy. I need gloves to keep my hands from bleeding from all the work.”

“Nadakhan wouldn’t keep anyone who wasn’t loyal to him on his ship if it wasn’t for a reason. Even if it were a cabin boy. And especially if they still have a wish left. He must have wanted you for something.”

Jay tries not to panic. “I told you! He kidnapped me because he wanted my inventions! I’m an inventor! He thought it could benefit his crew if he had them!”

“Show us your hands and we'll let you go,” Wu commands. Jay tightens his hands into fists and backs away, panic bubbling up.

“I-I …” I can’t, is what Jay wants to say, but that sounds too suspicious. His heart thumps in his ears and he’s suddenly aware that he’s hyperventilating. His hands. He can’t show his hands, because it was bad, it was dangerous, it — it …

Quick as an eel, the captain shoots forward and yanks off the gloves before Jay can stop him.

There were scars on his hands. But they weren’t like the ones that decorate his body — no, the pale pink scars that spread across his fingers and palms look branchlike and oddly different.

It looks like electricity had coursed through his hands.

“I knew it,” the old man says. “You are the Master of Lightning. It is your destiny to join this crew and stop the Skulkin Army.”

(Power outage. Electricity. Chaos. Screams. Uncontrollable. Dangerous.

“Jay, sweetie, you have to be careful. Not all of us can handle electricity like you can. We can get hurt. Lightning is a force of nature. It is not meant to be played. Just be careful, honey. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”)

Jay breathes. He feels knocked off kilter, cornered. The old man is staring at him with shiny eyes and looks a hundred years younger while the rest of the pirates have fallen silent.

“No, no. I don't want to be. And I won't be. I need to go back home. My parents are waiting for me.” Jay backs away, fully intending to flee and run away as fast as he can. It doesn’t matter if it’s a ship, he can run, he can escape, he can —

“Jay,” the old man implores. He avoids looking at him, instead noticing how the rest of the pirate crew is slowly circling him. Cutting off his escape. “I can help you. Everyone on this ship is an Elemental Master. I can train you to control your powers. It is dangerous for you to confine them!”

“I said no! I don’t want to be a part of your stupid destiny and join your stupid crew! I don’t want to be a pirate! I just want to go home!”

Surprisingly, the primary emotion Jay feels isn’t fear — it's anger. Jay has been trapped on the ship for a year, and had dealt with Nadakhan’s sly words and goadings and torture, and out of nowhere this strange pirate crew comes in and tell him to join their crew? Fight against the most powerful army in Ninjago? To basically ask him to die for them?

Sparks explode off Jay's fingers and for the first time he doesn’t quell it. Jay reaches down deep within himself to the writhing, electric power locked away and blasts them with lightning.

Screams and shouts are drowned out by wood ripping apart. The blonde teenager had tackled his captain out of the way and the rest of the pirates were on the floor, stunned. Jay is too, but he quickly forces himself to snap out of it and book it. To where, he doesn’t know — he just needs to get out of here. He’s had enough pirates for a lifetime.

A blast of water hits him in the back, knocking him off balance, before it surges around him. Seawater grips his legs shut, and following the line of water he sees the pirate woman holding out her hand. Controlling the water.

She is the Master of Water.

The woman drags him to her as Jay flails uselessly. Like a fish caught in a net. She swings her boot on his chest, pinning him before pulling out her cutlass against his Adam's apple.

Jay freezes. The tip is pointed almost gently against his throat, but for him to even twitch would be his doom. The girl leans down, her breath hot against Jay’s mouth. All Jay can see is her ruby lips and dark eyes. He resists the urge to swallow.

“I guess,” Nya whispers, “that you should have tried to escape earlier. That little stunt you pulled only made me all the more interested in you. And us pirates love to keep the things that are interesting to us.” She grins, mischievous and dark and so many other things at once. “You’re mine now.”

She straightens up as the others approach and lock his hands in chains, but doesn’t take her eyes off him until she is drawn into conversation with the man with spiky hair. Even still, as Jay is walked off to their ship he can still feel her gaze on him.

He feels as if he’s in a whole other realm of trouble than he was with Nadakhan. Somehow, Nya feels just as dangerous as the djinn himself.

Jay tests the lightning playing at his fingers.

Well. It’s a good thing that Jay is an expert of escaping danger as he is getting into it.

So … is he?

[I thought of this while showering at midnight, then wrote the whole thing in the next three hours on a school night.]

You're really gonna tell me they don't have the same eyes?

***

It always started as a question before it snowballs into something more.

“Dayeon, can we ask you a question?”

Dayeon turned to see 008 and 018 standing behind her. She smiled, trying to seem as open and friendly as possible. The Numbers were nice to her — intimidating in general — but indifferent to her mostly. They mostly kept to themselves and didn’t approach her often, but when they did she tried to be as genuine as possible. Ijin saw them as family and trusted them, so that meant Dayeon cared about them too.

“Yeah, what is it?” She asked 008, who was the one who spoke first.

The man — giant really, because Dayeon had to crane her head all the way up to look at him — shifted his feet, appearing oddly uncomfortable. 018 crossed his arms, defensive and avoiding her eyes.

“Well, 018 and I were discussing about 001 and his normal life — how he’s interacting with normal people his own age and —”

“Oh my God,” 018 interrupted, rolling his eyes. “We wanted to ask, is he gay?”

Dayeon choked and did a double-take. “What? No, he’s not. Why would you say that?”

“Because he has girls literally hanging off him and he doesn’t even notice! No guy would ever act like that unless he’s gay.”

“He’s not gay, just oblivious! This is the first time that he’s interacting with normal girls his age — he’s totally clueless when it comes to romance!” Dayeon argues back.

“Are you sure? Even if he’s oblivious he’s sure to pick up the cues of a girl liking him. He was literally trained to read body language,” 018 pointed out.

Dayeon pauses; that was actually a good point. She thought of all the times Yeona’s crush was painfully obvious. Was Ijin actually oblivious, or was he faking it? “Still, it's not like there were any girls that were interested in him back in the Camp for him to pick up signs; he was nine years old and all he was focused on was surviving.”

“Yeah, but so was 032 and he still —” 008 smacked 018 and he quickly stopped talking.

“What are you talking about?” 016 materialized behind her and Dayeon jumped; she didn’t even hear him coming.

“We’re asking her if 001 is gay,” 018 interjects bluntly before she can open her mouth.

“Is he?” 016 raised a brow. “I mean, it would certainly explain why he doesn’t notice all those girls.”

“Thank you,” 018 guestured to 016 empathetically.

“No, he’s not!” Dayeon said. “He’s shown no interest in guys!”

“If 001 has all those pretty girls hanging off of him and doesn’t have a girlfriend by now then he really is gay. Even if he’s oblivious he would notice someone taking an interest in him.” 016 pointed out.

“That’s because he isn’t even interested in romance. He’s more focused on his family and living his normal life. Besides, he isn’t really … emotionally available, if you know what I mean.” Dayeon winced, trying to phrase Ijin’s decade of trauma as delicately as possible.

“Oh, but 032 is?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” 016 dismissed immediately.

“Alright then. If you want to know so bad, I’ll just ask him myself,” Dayeon said. She turned around and scanned the area, taking note of where everyone was. 002 was off to the side restocking the supplies while 004 was beside him, cleaning his knife. 006 and 032 were settled down across the camp having lunch. She spotted her brother on the other side of the clearing.

Dayeon walked up to Ijin, who was busy organizing his guns.

“Ijin, can I ask you a question?” She asked, adopting an innocent expression. Her brother looked up before smiling that small, sweet genuine smile he always saved for her. For a moment, Dayeon almost felt a bit guilty before she shoved it away.

“Of course. What is it?”

Dayeon plopped to the ground beside him before taking a deep breath and saying —

“Ijin, are you gay?”

On the other side of the clearing, 006 spat out his drink.

“W-What?” Ijin looked startled at the question.

“Are you gay?” Dayeon repeated calmly. Vaguely, she can hear the sounds of 032 choking on his food and the thwack, thwack, thwack, of 006 smacking his back to clear his throat.

“N-No …?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes …?”

“Alright! Just wanted to know!” Dayeon said brightly before kissing his cheek and walking away. She could feel the eyes of all the other Numbers burning into her back and she tosses the group of 008, 018, and 016 a sweet, victorious smirk before heading to find 005.

She would find this hilarious.

First Meetings

Summary: May and Drew meet for the first time, and it goes about just as well as you expect it to.

……… | flirting, fighting, and explosions. Not necessarily in that order. |

DREW

………

Drew against the bridge that was facing the shoreline and watched. The girl in a red bandanna was flinging frisbees at her Beautifly — and failing.

“Amateur,” Drew said in his head. The Beautifly had just failed to complete the move Silverwind. “You’re too nervous, Beautifly is sensing it.” He thought.

“You’re not on the same wavelength. You’re rushing your commands.” Drew recited in his head. He watched the three guys cheer up the girl that had just sunk to the ground in defeat.

A rugged boy around Drews age with messy raven hair and a red hat was encouraging the girl enthusiastically, a Pikachu by side.

“Whatever,” Drew let out a breath and closed his eyes, flipping his green hair from his face. That girl could try her hardest to perfect Silverwind, and those guys can keep on being her personal cheerleaders, but by the end of the contest he was going to end up on top.

“WATCH OUT!” a feminine voice suddenly shouted at him.

A lazy smirk glided along Drew’s mouth like an unwinding ribbon, and he didn’t move a muscle. Drew held out a hand and let the frisbee fly right into it. The cold, hard plastic pressed against the palm of his hand as he heard the girl footsteps against the sand as she reached the front of the bridge.

“I’m sorry,” she panted when she came to a stop.

Drew leaned against the banister and spun the girl’s frisbee around his finger, scoffing, “Please don’t tell me you’re planning on entering the Pokémon contest with the cheesy act like that.”

Drew almost jolted when the words came out of his mouth. He was almost about to apologize before he stopped. He was Andrew Hayden, and Andrew Hayden never apologizes.

Eyes still closed, Drew tossed the toy at the girl's feet and jumped off the bridge, navigating his way to the girl and her personal cheerleaders with ease. Now closer, Drew could feel her offense rolling off her more than the waves behind her.

“You have no finesse. No moves.” Drew continued. The mean words wouldn’t stop rolling off his tongue.

“Hey, who are you to tell me that!” The girl raged on like a Toros.

“If you must know, I’m Drew.” The said person did a cocky flip of his hair, smirking. “Pokémon Coordinator.”

Drew let his eyelids rise and came face to face with the most stunning pair of blue eyes he had ever seen.

………

MAY

Green Guy opened his eyes, and May felt caught off guard when she faced the most stunning pair of eyes she had ever seen.

They weren’t emerald, exactly — they were a lighter, softer shade of green that May would no doubt ponder about later at night. But right now Green Guy — Drew — stared back at May with a strange expression on his face. His pupils are dilated, and May couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as his eyes drank in her every feature.

May felt, as accurately as possible, like a Goldeen out of water.

“Really?” Ash's voice cut through the tension, and both coordinators snapped out of it. “That’s just like you May!” Ash exclaimed happily.

Drew cringed like the very thought of being related to May was painful and Max and Brock practically fell to the ground.

“Please, no comparison,” Drew flipped his hair and held out his hand in front of him, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of them. May looked ready to order Torchic to use Ember on the arrogant excuse-of-a-coordinator.

Drew continued insulting May as Beautifly flew down and elegantly perched herself on her head, tilting her head with curiosity. “You and your Pokémon here,” the green brat addressed May, “you have no style.” He turned his head away from them pridefully.

And … that’s it.

With an animalistic growl, May dove for the boy, literally ready to tackle him in her rage. Luckily, (for Drew sake, everybody but the two thought) Brock lunged forward in the nick of time and grabbed the girl by her forearms, successfully preventing May from her attempts of murder.

Drew didn’t flinch as May struggled to get out of her friend's grip.

“HOW DARE YOU! YOU CAN MAKE FUN OF ME ALL YOU WANT, BUT DON'T YOU DARE MAKE FUN OF MY POKÉMON — MMPH!?”

Drew pressed his hand against May’s trap to prevent his eardrums from being injured. He tossed her a careless smirk, amused and not at all intimidated by her temper.

May squirmed angrily in Brock’s death lock. This guy — this arrogant, cocky, grass-headed guy — had the audacity to touch her after insulting her and Beautifly? He must be joking.

“Whoa, just calm down little girl. I know you want a piece of this —” Drew gestured to his body with his other hand, “but I’m not interested in children.”

May got immense satisfaction when Drew actually took a step away from her as she went in for the kill again, dragging a shocked Brock along with her. Pikachu quickly shot off his partner's shoulder to grab onto the leg May was prepared to kick with. Beautifully quickly dropped back down on the brunette’s head to calm her down.

May took a deep breath, shutting her eyes for a second. She focused on the comforting weight of Beautifly weighing down on her neck before releasing her breath.

“Who are you calling little? We’re the same age," May retorted.

Drew simply ignored her comment and flipped his hair, purposefully ticking her off further.

Max jumped into the conversation, sensing his sister was about to blow again. “May, don’t listen to him," he said, sweating at the way May was eyeing Drew like a Mightyena would pounce on its prey.

“Yeah, why don’t you show us all your great Pokémon,” Ash butted in.

Drew rolled his eyes and answered snootily, “Why, what good would that do?”

Drew flipped his majestic (please note the sarcasm) green hair and locked eyes with May again. “I think,” he continued slowly, “that you all should be on your way.” Drew didn’t take his eyes off the blue-eyed girl as he jabbed his thumb behind him to the five-star hotel none of them had noticed before. “This is a private beach reserved for people like me staying at that hotel.” Drew tilted his head to the side, slightly challenging May — challenging them all — to argue.

May dragged her eyes from the fancy hotel to the boy standing a few feet ahead from her.

She hated him.

Rivalry burned in the pit of her stomach and she made sure she channeled all that heat into the glare she was giving him.

“Let’s go,” Ash broke the silence, grabbing May's wrist and tugging.

“Pika,” Pikachu, who was still at May’s feet, agreed and jumped on Ash's shoulder as the latter turned away and walked in the opposite direction.

“Yeah,” Brock said, unlocking May from his death grip and following Ash. Max followed the others, not before glancing nervously between the two coordinators who were in the middle of a face-off.

“Would you stop glaring at me like that? You look like a Gible,” Drew broke the silence as soon as the boys left.

“No,” May snapped back, anger evident in her tone. Beautify flew off her head and hovered above her.

Drew ran a hand through his hair and let it rest for a moment on her. Then he flipped his hair out and walked right up to her, not stopping until he was inches away from her. “I’ll see you at the contest, May,” he said teasingly, daring her to push him away.

May felt her hands ball up on instinct and her face burned with anger and embarrassment. The girl willed her feet to move, but to no avail.

That’s right,” May heard herself say. “You’ll see me win.”

Drew’s smirk grew wider and he leaned closer. Sapphire and emerald eyes burnt into each other. Both coordinators just stood there, staring at each other, standing in each other’s personal bubbles until May finally had the strength to pull away. Both watched each other like a hawk as May backed away from Drew scowling.

“Come on Beautifly, let’s go,” May finally said.

“Beautifly,” her Pokémon agreed.

Still, the trainers would not move, nor remove eye contact.

Finally, Drew turned on his heel and left, heading back to the hotel he had previously pointed out earlier. May and Beautifly stood and stared at Drew’s retreating form and May was left to ponder what had just transpired, blinking.

“What in Arceus’s name just happened?” May thought bewilderedly. Beautifly startled her out of it by landing on her head once more and May smiled at her Pokémon.

“I’m going to pound that arrogant piece of green hair into the battlefield when I win that ribbon,” May murmured to herself.

The young girl turned around and broke into a sprint, shouting, “Hey Ash! Let's have a Pokémon battle!”

Of butterflies and roses

Summary: Drew hadn't fallen for May first; he been struck, curious about this doe-eyed girl in a bandana — distracted, fumbling, so very nervous —and her Beautifly. Drew liked to pay attention to people, how they got to who they were. It helped him in contests, to weed out who would be the real competition. Drew saw May playing with her little frisbees and thought, “She wouldn’t make it.

But now — now, Drew leaned forward and stared as May stumbled onstage and proceeding to blindside the audience with her plastic frisbees; with five Stringshots, a Gust, and one beautiful Silverwind.

A small smile made its way onto his face.

“Huh, what do you know?” Drew said to himself. “That wasn’t too bad at all.”

***

Or: a love story about surprises and realization

***

When Drew first sees May playing on the beach with her plastic pink frisbees he thought she was a joke.

Contests were a serious thing and they weren’t for the faint of heart. Drew has seen many bright-eyed amateurs bounce on stage to perform their shallow appeals before running off in tears when they lost. Drew knows this girl will be no different.

Because her idea of an appeal was pathetic and lame. Her performance lacked flair and finesse, and was much too shallow. She had no style, baseless confidence, and her naïveté was going to get her as far as her performance will.

Beautifly sends a Gust at the frisbees, and the girl daintily catches two of them on a spin as her friends cheer.

Drew watches in amusement as the third sails right over her head and catches it.

***

The girl passes the appeal round and is matched up with Drew right off the bat.

After their first meeting, she is determined to beat him and win the contest, and Drew scoffs at the fairy tale. He has more experience than she could ever hope for under his belt, and he can’t wait to beat her.

In the end, he leaves her in tears on the stage. She’s slumped to the ground by her Beautifly, her lips pressed into a wobbly line as tears glass her eyes. Drew gets a sudden sense of deja vu as he stares at her; he’s reminded of his first loss — his very first loss against Solidad. He remembers the feeling of defeat and devastation and turns away.

At least in his first contest he made it into the finals. With her, it seems like she barely trained for the battle round at all. (He is a little bit disappointed — he was hoping she would put up as much of a fight as she did their first battle.)

With this loss, Drew would see what type of person May would be.

Would she give up like many others have when they faced him, or would she stand up and try again?

***

Drew takes his loss against Robert hard, but moves on by training harder and winning another contest. He tells Solidad about him in one of their weekly calls, but carefully leaves the girl he’s met out of it. He still hasn’t decided on what type of trainer she is, and there will be no point in telling Solidad about her if she never shows her face again after defeat.

He spends his time training Roselia and Trapinch, searching for a new partner for his team, and winning himself another ribbon before heading to Fallarbor Town for a contest. He’s heard the competition is going to be steep.

Occasionally, he thinks of the girl in the bandana and her Beautifly, but it’s a thin, fleeting thought he easily dismisses in his busy days.

***

When Drew sees her training in Fallarbor Town, he feels something startling and surprising in him. His eyes are immediately drawn to her and he can’t help but make his way over to her to tease her about her botched up combinations — (because really, how can a coordinator not know about combinations?)

Based on their first meeting, May doesn’t like Drew. He’s arrogant and criticizes her and offers nothing good to say about her combinations. Drew shows off his newly acquired ribbons and tells her she has no shot of winning a competition this steep.

He walks away, mouth uncurling into a grin and hopes the fire he’s sparked in May will be enough to make this contest a memorable one.

***

It's Drew who loses in the Fallarbor Contest, and normally he would be upset about that if it weren’t for the fact of who won.

May won the Fallarbor Contest, and with nothing but her own skill and talent. She took the same combinations he made fun of and turned them into something elegant and powerful. She and Beautifly beat Grace and won the ribbon — her very first ribbon — and May’s never looked more alive and in sync with her Pokémon.

Drew feels reluctant admiration, pride, and (strangely) joy press into his gut and leave a tingling sensation throughout his body.

May finally did it; and although Drew still thinks that she wouldn’t have been able to beat him if they were paired up in the first round, her fight against Grace almost deserves a congratulations.

***

It was Roselia’s idea to keep giving May roses, and Drew went along with it. He doesn’t know why exactly, but Roselia is very intuitive and reminds him of Solidad, who is spending her off-season in Kanto training.

He feels like the roses are falling into some sort of routine of theirs, and strangely enough, Drew likes it enough to not want to think about what it means.

“I suppose this rose is for Beautifly, right?” May spins the flower between her fingers and teasingly asks. Her smile is light and playful and Drew feels his stomach suddenly knot in on itself at the sight. He’s not quite sure what to think of that.

“Yeah, something like that.” He keeps his response vague and puzzling before turning away before she realizes that the rose is just as much for her as it is her Pokémon.

***

Drew starts to talk about her to Solidad at around the second contest she wins. That’s two times May has defeated somebody who has beaten Drew, and he is fascinated. He talks to Solidad about their first meeting, how she totally blindsided him with the sudden Silverwind in their first battle. He talks about the first contest she won, the Pokémon she used, and is completely, totally, utterly unaware of the knowing look Solidad has in her blue eyes.

“Looks like you have yourself a rival, Drew,” she interrupts with a grin.

Drew scoffs. How can May ever be his rival?

***

It’s a while before he sees May again, but almost against his will he keeps his ear against the ground for her. He hears she wins the Lilycove Contest and the Purika Contest — after a bit of difficulty, apparently — but hasn't heard anything else.

It’s six weeks until the Pokémon Grand Festival and Drew is just out training his Masquerain when he hears someone call his name. He turns around to see May and her friends waving at him so he makes his way down the cliff to them.

May shows off her four ribbons and informs him that she’ll be entering the Pacifidlog Contest with the same happy-go-lucky smile and bright blue eyes. And because Drew doesn’t not like how she looks at him and he doesn’t like how he doesn’t like it, he makes fun of her enough to challenge him to a battle. It doesn’t get far before a trio calling themselves Team Rocket burst from the ocean and proceed to vacuum them into a giant mechanical Magikarp before exploding.

This is what he gets for spending time with May, Drew thinks as he stares out at the foggy ocean. He and May had woken up on the beach alone, together, surrounded by wreckage and with no idea where the others were. Thankfully, Roderick comes and saves them from their incessant bickering, and they set off to find May’s friends.

Admittedly, Drew is a bit excited to have landed on Mirage Island of all places. Few people have managed to set foot on the land, and it was crawling with liechi berries. That’s why when Drew finally spotted them so close to the cliff, he wasn’t as careful as he could've been.

The earth gives out beneath their feet and as they’re falling the only thought Drew has in his mind is that he’s probably going to die. May grabs onto Bellsprout’s vine, and Drew can tell as she grasps his hand that it's not going to save them.

May’s grip slips and they both hit the water, hands still firmly locked with each other. The current rips them apart and Drew desperately surges to the surface, gasping for air.

“May!” He calls, using whatever air he has left in his lungs. The water is stinging his eyes and roaring in his ears, but he’s still desperately searching for the brown-haired coordinator.

He spots her up ahead, choking on the spray of water and being submerged again and again before Drew swims forward and grabs her arm. Her blue eyes find his green ones, and they’re big and wide and scared as she fights against the current. They struggle to stay above water, Drew trying to support May as much as he can before they hear Roderick’s yell above the buffeting waves: “There’s a waterfall dead ahead!”

Fear freezes his veins. If they weren’t going to die, then they certainly would now. There isn’t any time to think straight before it’s on them, but May tightens her grip on Drew as panic seizes them both and Drew clutches her wrist as hard as he can before they go over.

They slam against the bottom, the impact sweeping them apart before Drew falls unconscious.

When he wakes up it’s nighttime, but the first thing he sees is May’s worried face and big blue eyes. She’s crouched over him, and when he opens his eyes her face breaks out into a big, relieved smile. Drew doesn’t know what happened or where he is, but he does know his heart is doing acrobatics in his chest right now and he feels dizzy with the knowledge that May probably saved his life before the Wynaut did.

The Wynaut are nice and thoughtful for wild Pokémon, and with them Drew and May find themselves becoming more at ease from their near-death experience. May releases all her Pokémon and goes to play with the Wynaut while Drew sits to the side and watches with a small smile on his lips.

The May in front of him right now is totally unencumbered and free. Her smile is big and her laugh is bright and for the first time Drew is able to see her in the light that she is a girl, not just a coordinator. This is the first time they are together outside the context of contests, and that means that the girl he is looking at right now is the real May. Normally when they met May would put up a front and talk all big for the sake of their rivalry, but not now. Now, she is completely natural.

Almost against his will, Drew feels a powerful emotion grow inside him as he watches her.

***

May has grown — slowly and steadily, with the help of her friends and Pokémon. Drew sees her start to win contests, learn strategies, her trust in her Pokémon becoming more prominent with every move she calls.

Alongside his admiration, there is something new and exciting that pulse in his veins now, and it makes Drew determined to win. Solidad calls it competition from across the phone line in Pewter City, and Drew actually feels like laughing.

Because, him? Competitive about May? It hasn’t been that long since she was stumbling through coordinating and trying to figure out combinations. But then, he realizes, it has.

May has grown into coordinating, training her partners and catching new Pokémon. Drew thinks that she can make it into the Grand Festival, and looking deeper, he thinks that he wants to face her there.

Drew knows that Solidad can see the realization on his face and quickly hangs up before she can tease him.

His Vibrava had evolved into a Flygon a while ago, and Drew has a sudden idea about who he wants him to train for.

***

It’s not a surprise to see her at the Grand Festival, but Drew is never going to admit it. May lights up when she spots him and is quickly running towards him with a bright smile. Her enthusiasm makes him smile and as she snatches his rose almost petulantly, he feels the strange emotion bubble up again.

Unfortunately, Harley shows up and May is instantly swept up with his bravado and false promises. Drew already knew she trusts easily and is unfalteringly kind, but Harley was pushing it and May is totally unaware. She almost blows her chances at competing in the Grand Festival battle rounds.

Frustration bubbles up, and Drew knows it’s unreasonable, but May doesn’t get it. She’s made it all the way here, and she was talented, but she still doesn’t get it. To be a coordinator one had to trust in themselves and their Pokémon, and find their own style to make their own Pokémon’s appeal shine through.

And May didn’t get it.

Fortunately for her, she manages to impress the judges enough to pass the appeal round and win her way through the battle rounds — until she’s matched up with him. They face off against each other in the third round of the Hoenn Grand Festival; and as they stare each other down from across the pitch, Drew recalls their first battle. He hasn’t had a real contest battle with May since then, and although Drew knows how it’ll end he still wants to see how she’ll react.

Drew calls out Roselia and Flygon. May’s never seen his Pokémon before, and when he tells her that he raised his Flygon specifically to battle her he can tell she is both flattered and scared.

Drew makes the first move and the battle is on.

***

In the end, it isn’t Drew’s time as Robert comes out on top in the Grand Festival Finals, but it was a good battle and Drew gave it his all. He learned a lot from battling Robert and was already coming up with combinations for next year.

He impatiently waits his way through the closing ceremonies and as soon as the party starts he disappears to the beach to practice with his Pokémon. They train for about an hour before someone stumbles upon them, and Drew turns when he realizes it’s May.

She’s confused about why he’s still training and Drew is reminded that it is her first season of coordinating. He gives her advice before heading on his way, but can’t help but leave her with one last thing.

“I’m hoping to see you back here next year too, May,” he says. “You were good.”

She stares at him, gaping slightly. (Has he really never complimented her before? It seems like she takes up most of his thoughts to not have.) Her sapphire eyes are wide as the seabreeze tousles her hair. He’s suddenly aware of the waves crashing against the shore and the stars shining in the night sky. Drew can barely hear the sounds of the party drifting towards the beach.

For such an open space, it feels so entirely intimate in the moment. May looks beautiful in the moonlight, and the realization of what that means strikes him.

Drew walks away from her, feeling as though someone once so out of his reach becomes touchable for just a slither of time.

***

Drew goes to Kanto for the next contest season and is surprised to see May already there. She’s still as rose-scented, sun-kissed and vibrant as she was in Hoenn and Drew is unable to withhold the realization that he likes her. He really, really likes her.

The realization follows him throughout Kanto, so he throws himself into contests and combinations to avoid thinking about it altogether. His Pokémon notice, but Roselia is the only one who knows and Drew can sense her disapproval. He ignores it — they’re rivals above all and Drew values that — her — more than his feelings.

Still though, he can’t help but go see her. Drew knew so little about her. He could easily spot her voice out of a crowd, but he wanted to hear her stories. There was still so much to May that he didn't know. Drew never really minded being a mystery to the average person (sharing parts of himself was something he was naturally against), but with May he wanted her to know him.

He wondered if she had similar thoughts about him and if part of her wanted to know more.

Drew gathers his five ribbons and heads to the Grand Festival. He’ll see her there.

***

Drew meets up with Solidad the morning of the Grand Festival.

When they first met, Solidad had beaten him and Roselia in the final round of their first contest and then invited him out to lunch afterwards. Although Drew had his reservations, he still went.

Solidad explained that she had a season of experience over him, and that her battle with him had to be the most grueling one she’d ever faced. She was impressed with his performance and wanted to see him again in another contest.

As they competed together more throughout the season and their respect for each other grew, he started to open up to her more and meet up with her more often. It's only natural that Solidad is now his best friend.

They have run into each other a couple of times in Kanto, and had carefully shared contest information and have appropriately planned out their routes so they didn’t meet up at every contest. Still, Drew had looked forward to the towns where their paths were scheduled to cross.

“So, what did you think of May?” Drew asks a bit too casually as he sips his tea. He’s not really a fan of the taste, but Solidad loves it so he drinks without complaining.

“I like her. She’s really sweet and friendly. The total opposite of you,” she says with a teasing smirk.

“Uh huh, sure,” Drew rolls his eyes. “Do I even want to know what you two said about me?”

Solidad’s eyes twinkle. “That’s between girls only. Whatever May says is completely on her own volition.”

“Great. She’s definitely going to rub something in my face now.” Drew takes another sip of tea and struggles to not make a face. Solidad does the same, watching him with calm blue eyes.

“I’m a bit sad you haven’t introduced me to her earlier though,” she speaks up suddenly. “Seeing how much you talk about her. I can see why you like her.”

Drew chokes on his tea, and for once it wasn’t because of the taste.

Solidad knows. She's probably always known, Drew rationalizes, but the knowing smile the older coordinator wears cements the fact that nevertheless, Solidad knows.

But then again, if Drew had really wanted it to be kept a secret, he wouldn’t have introduced them in the first place. But Solidad was his closest friend and Drew liked May (enough to give her advice, give her roses) and he had wanted the two of them to meet.

“She — uh, I, uh — ” Drew stammers. He feels uncharacteristically embarrassed and it throws him off his game. “I — ”

“It’s okay, Drew.” Solidad thankfully cuts him off. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m actually glad you’ve found someone like May. She’s good for you.” Drew’s face burns and Solidad’s face softens as she observes his flustered reaction. “Just … don’t let your feelings get in the way of your performance, okay?”

Drew scoffs at the thought. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” he reassures her.

He may like her, but they're still rivals.

***

It’s a surprise when he sees Ash and Brock come to talk to him instead of Solidad, but figures she’s probably having a talk with May after he snapped at her.

Guilt twists in his chest as he thinks of her hurt expression before he ignores it and turns to face the sunset. Don’t let your feelings get in the way of your performance, Solidad had said. Drew internally scoffed. She should have said, “Don’t let her performance get in the way of your feelings.”

Seeing her perform with her Munchlax … it shook him. For so long, May had always been the one behind him, chasing after him. It didn’t hit him until today that … she can pass him. She can beat him.

She had changed; she was a threat. He had changed; he was no longer untouchable.

And that scared him.

“Look, I said it was on my mind, alright?” Drew snaps.

“I know that Drew,” Ash clambors down to join him. Pikachu hops down his shoulder.

“Solidad’s having a little talk with May right now. I think it would be a good idea to do the same thing,” Brock says. Drew hmphs.

“You know …” Ash breaks the silence, rubbing Pikachu’s head. “Watching you out there earlier made me think about all the rivals I’ve faced in battle over the years. I never talked to them about how they trained or anything.” Ash turns to face him. “We deal with that on the battlefield.”

Drew can’t help but stare, shocked at the comparison. It's no secret that a lot of competitive battlers don't take coordinators seriously. They saw it as more of a glorified beauty contest than showing off the strength of the Pokémon with appeal. Not to mention, coordinating was more seen as a feminine form of battling, with its emphasis on beauty and combinations.

For a while, Drew thought Ash was one of those battlers — that’s why he challenged him to a battle in Fallarbor Town. But no, Ash is here drawing comparisons from his battling to relate to coordinating. To him and May.

Ash and Brock are here, telling him in their own way that they understood him. That they took his side.

Drew relaxed. “I hear ya,” he chuckles. “We’re rivals, May and I.”

Somehow, that seems to sum up everything and nothing at all.

***

It’s the Kanto Grand Festival at the Indigo Plateau, and it's Drew up against May in the quarterfinals. He walks onto the stage and hears the cheers so loud it makes his ears ring. The atmosphere of the stadium is electric, and Drew keeps his head straight.

His eyes wander across the field to May and he sees the determined glint in her eyes that Drew knows is reflected in her own. Two years, two regions, and two talented coordinators.

They’ve been ready for this their whole lives.

***

In the end, it’s only one of them who can win, and after a long, grueling battle, the winner is decided.

The screams and cheers from the stadium are overwhelming so Drew closes his eyes and takes a breath, steadying himself.

The battle was incredible. May was incredible.

She is still standing there, staring up at the scoreboard in disbelief and unable to believe what it reads. She’s surprised, shaky from the battle, but happy-ecstatic and Drew is proud to have lost to her. It's been two years since they met, since he first saw her on the beach of Slateport City with her plastic pink frisbees, and since then she’s been surprising him ever since. They’ve both changed since they first met; the final battle an accumulation of everything they learned on their journey.

Absol slowly makes his way to him, head already bowed in defeat. His Pokémon took his losses harder than Drew did, but this time the trainer wasn’t feeling bad about this one at all.

Absol looks up in surprise when Drew reaches forward and rubs his head. “Thank you, you fought hard. You're the best, Absol.” Absol lights up at the praise, gratefully pressing his head into his hand.

Drew turns to notice May’s gaze on him, questioning and uncertain. She’s worried about how he’ll take the loss against her, and suddenly the feelings Drew has tried to keep from fully consuming his heart come forth.

It’s because she surprises him. She’s surprised him from the very beginning — from the first time they met, the first time they ever competed, the first time he truly saw her — and she kept on surprising him, whether it be her skill or her passion or her love towards people and Pokémon. Drew hadn’t fallen in love with May; he was struck, stunned by the care and awe he has for her. She completely blindsided him and turned his world upside-down. He never would have imagined that the girl he had met on the beach would turn into one of his greatest rivals.

Drew’s eyes soften, mouth pulling into gentle smile as he nods. It’s okay. He lost, but it was to May and he is okay with that because she more than deserves her victory. May beams at his approval, throwing her arm around Combusken in celebration.

Drew watches for a moment longer before closing his eyes and turning away, smiling.

***

Drew doesn't stick around after the festival. His bags are packed and he’s headed out. Drew has no new destination in mind, so he just travels around Kanto, exploring the parts he didn’t get to see before. He spends two months just wandering, training and discovering himself. His mind is on May, and coordinating, and on where to head next for the next Grand Festival.

Drew finds a beautiful lake — a glittering expanse of blue in front of him — with plenty of open space to practice some tricky appeals he has been working on. He calls out Roselia and Masquerain and they work on some doubles appeals for around an hour before Drew gives them a rest. Roselia wanders along the shoreline, looking happy and relaxed while Masquerain flutters around the lake.

Suddenly, to his surprise, Roselia runs towards her trainer, exclaiming happily. Drew blinks, alarmed, before he hears a familiar voice speak up behind him.

“Hey, Drew!”

Drew turns to see Solidad approaching with Slowbro, a smile on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Drew asks before he can stop himself.

Solidad laughs. "Jeez, it's nice to see you too."

Drew smirks and waves his hand at her. "You know what I meant."

"Well, am I not allowed to want to see you?” Solidad asks gently. “You practically ran away from the afterparty of the Grand Festival, and I’ve barely heard from you.” She settles on the grass right next to him as her Pokémon goes to greet his.

Drew runs a hand through his hair and winces. “Sorry. I've been busy.”

Solidad shakes her head. “Typical of you, isn't it? But don't you think you’ve trained enough?”

Drew shrugs and says nothing; she knows what his answer is. They both watch as Roselia comes forward and Solidad rubs her head. “So, have you decided on where to go from here?”

“I think I’ll head to the Johto region next.” Drew says. “What will you do?”

“Johto too, I think.” Solidad turns to meet his gaze. “Just because I became a Top Coordinator doesn’t mean I want to stop. I want to keep coordinating, traveling, and winning. I want to be a master coordinator and be accepted into the Ribbon’s Syndicate.”

Drew smirked and closed his eyes. “Yeah, you’re not the only one, you know.”

The Ribbon Syndicate was a big ordeal for coordinators alike. It was a private, special organization that only coordinators with a legendary status could call their home. Members would finally earn that sought after "Master" status and finally become a part of the world's elite, setting an example for all young coordinators alike.

Solidad smiles. It’s quiet for a while, both of them watching their Pokémon get along before she speaks. “I gave her your rose, you know. She caught you as you were leaving, right?”

Drew tenses, before he relaxes. “Yeah. Thanks for giving it to her. I … couldn’t give her that one in person.” It feels entirely too honest than he meant it to be, so he avoids Solidad’s eyes as she studies him.

When Drew had first given roses to May, it was a mocking. The flowers were filled with taunts about how her Pokémon were carrying her to victory. Then Drew had started to notice May, and his roses became fleeting — everyone knows what red roses meant. How could Drew give out roses when he didn’t even know who he was really giving them to?

But now this one was different. After everything — their fight, their battle, the final leg of their journeys — the rose held a different meaning now. It is a confession of his affection, respect, and awe for her.

It was the only genuine rose.

And they both knew it.

“Here,” Solidad holds out a shrunken Pokéball and Drew takes it. He glances down at it and blinks.

“This is Butterfree’s Pokéball,” he says, surprised. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Because you need it,” she says simply. “You’ve done enough reflecting, Drew. You need to get out of your head, and the best way to do that is with a new partner. He’s yours now.” She stands up as Slowbro wanders towards her and returns him.

“Where are you going?” Drew is still reeling.

“To Johto,” Solidad raises a brow as if to say ‘obviously’. “And you’re going to Fennel Valley.”

“What’s in Fennel Valley?” Drew is scared to ask.

“You’ll see.” Solidad smiles.

***

Drew does end up making his way to Fennel Valley and runs into May. As soon as he sees her, he understands why Solidad sent him here instead of going to the Johto region first.

Drew feels like he’s seeing himself a week ago. May is lost, out of sync, and confused. It’s a mental thing he’s seen in himself and other coordinators stuck in a rut, and Drew tries to pull her out of it.

He challenges her to a battle, his heart beating faster when he sees the fire relight in May’s eyes.

They’re talking outside later — May sitting beyond the fence while he leans against it — and Drew tells May he’s going to Johto. He studies her reaction, trying to see how she’s feeling, and watches her eyes lower as she leans against the fence with him. “It’s pretty there, right now,” she says.

Drew gazes at her. She’s looking at the sunset, how the pinks, reds, and golds reflect off the mountains. The sprawling region in front of them looks beautiful, but Drew can’t seem to take his eyes off May. There’s no moonlight this time — May’s dripping with the sunset glow, chestnut hair waving in the wind, azure eyes deep and Drew feels like his heart is going to crawl out of his chest looking at her.

He really, really loves her.

Harley interrupts, as he always does, and soon he and Drew have to leave. May calls out goodbyes behind him as he walks away, and Drew raises a hand in return.

Life insists on — they’re rivals, May and him. They will always come together. As frequently as roses bloom, they will meet each other, again and again.

to love and to learn

I’ve had this request since 2022 and had half done for more than a year now. Sorry it took so long! 😭

Summary: (to have and to hold)

Zoey navigates her relationship with Mike and co. throughout the year, learning that just because things are tough doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hold onto who they are.

A girl with a heart as big as hers shouldn’t be afraid to speak it.

| he is so many things. he is everything. she loses her heart and gets it back, this time ready to hold on. |

*♥️*🩵*

Mal (Spring)

Zoey unlocked the door to her place, purposefully making more noise than necessary as she closed the door and placed all her belongings on the table.

“I’m back!” She called out.

The empty house said nothing back and Zoey sighed, heart sinking. She didn’t know what she was expecting, to be honest. Her house was always empty, always silent, always dark. Normally, that would be any teenager's dream, but Zoey had always felt constricted when she was alone — like she was one tug away from panicking.

Separation anxiety, is what Courtney would call it. Neglect.

Zoey the Lonely, is what the elementary school kids called her.

It wasn’t like Zoey’s parents were bad or anything like that. They were just … never around. They were busy with work and away on trips often, which was fine because they were making money and putting a roof over her head. So Zoey didn’t say anything when they didn’t call her and she always smiled when the neighbors asked how her parents were and if she was fine …

Zoey shook her head out of the thoughts she wandered in. She had friends — close friends, better than anything she could have asked for — and that was enough.

Zoey walked over to the fridge and opened it — only to find absolutely nothing at all. Zoey quickly began looking through the shelves in the pantry and resisted the urge to sigh.

Right, she was supposed to go grocery shopping like, a week ago, curse finals for making her forget —

Zoey grabbed her wallet, keys, and phone and walked out of the house even though it was midnight.

Anything was better than being alone in an empty house.

* * *

Zoey is a sixteen year old girl walking home alone late at night, and apparently that’s some sort of welcome mat to get mugged.

Her credit card is weeping from the amount of things she’s bought but the food will last her a while so she doesn’t have to go shopping again. Zoey’s in good spirits as she crosses the street.

Normally, she would take the buses, but she doesn’t want to wait around outside when it’s one am and she has school tomorrow — well, today. She's also relaxed enough for the first time in about three months to let her guard down a bit, so it's a real shame that she immediately gets jumped by thugs the moment she does.

Zoey shrieks when a heavy hand covers her mouth and she gets dragged into an alleyway. Her back slams into a wall behind her, and Zoey counts three big, dark, intimidating thugs in front of her.

"Hands up, sweetheart, nice and easy," the biggest guy says, waving his gun at her.

Ice-cold fear shot in her veins and she instinctively reached for her pepper spray. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt empty space. She forgot it!

"He said hands up, kid!" the second guy barks at her, his own gun leveling out somewhere wildly above Zoey’s shoulder.

Zoey flinches. Great, not only would she be killed by thugs, she would be killed by amateur thugs. With the way they were holding the guns, she would most likely be shot by their own carelessness rather than actual intention.

"We don't want any trouble, just your money."

Zoey bit back a retort. Yeah, because teenagers just happen to be real millionaires. Who's even teaching these guys how to pick targets —

The thugs move forward, and Zoey cuts off her inner dialogue. Adrenaline races through her veins and her hands tremble at her sides. Just as she tries to summon her voice to call for help, or to desperately use one of Courtney’s self-defense lessons —

“Hey.”

All four of them jump, and the three thugs turn around to see two figures. Zoey couldn’t make out their facial features in the dark, but one was short and stocky while the other was tall and lanky.

The short one took a menacing step forward. “Leave the girl alone, and I promise we’ll leave you with your teeth intact.”

The thugs laugh. “Oh yeah? Last I checked, there’s three of us, and two of you. And we have guns.”

The tall one walks forward, and the thugs gasp. From her place Zoey can’t see who he is, but it makes the thugs tremble.

“B-boss … it’s the Malevolent One! And … the short mohawked green punk!”

Short mohawked green punk? That sounded like someone she knew, but who was the Malevolent One?

Caught up in her musings, Zoey almost didn’t notice the conversation going on.

"Hey kid, we said — hey, stop that creepy grinning, we're pointing a gun at you — "

Duncan just grins wider, cracks his knuckles, and throws himself into a fight.

Zoey screams as Duncan tackles the thug that called him short and gleefully begins going to town on him. The Malevolent One moves like a shadow, knocking the gun from the thug leader and sending him unconscious.

Slowly, they both turn to look at the last thug standing.

The thug’s face loses all its color and he jumps back in terror, screaming as he drops his gun in his haste to escape.

Zoey is frozen, gasping hard as her knees tremble. The two took on three armed thugs and managed to escape with only bruised knuckles.

Zoey’s legs suddenly give out.

“Hey, Zo, are you okay?” A hand is placed on her shoulder, and Zoey looks up to see Duncan staring down at her.

Zoey can’t help but smile. Duncan liked to put up this bad-boy image to make him seem tough, but secretly he had a soft heart. Zoey was glad to be one of the few to see it.

“Yeah, I — um, yeah. Just in shock. No need to worry about me.”

Duncan offers a hand to help her up, handing her the groceries in the process. Zoey shakily stands up, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Duncan.”

She looks at the other guy, whose figure was hiding in the shadows. “Thanks …” she trails off hesitantly.

He steps into the light and her heart stops. Mike, is her first thought. The tall, lanky body, the skin color, the face. Then she looks closer — the frown on his lips, the dark look on his face, the hair covering his eye.

“Mal,” Zoey says. Her throat suddenly feels extremely dry and she resists the urge to swallow.

“Zoey,” he responded neutrally.

Duncan looks back and forth, obviously picking up the strange air between them. “So, are you headed home?” He asked. Zoey and Mal both broke off the weird trance they found themselves in from staring at each other.

“Yeah,” Zoey nodded. “I was just walking back.”

Duncan takes the grocery bags and turns away. “Come on, we’ll walk with you! Don’t want you to get mugged again, do we?”

Zoey exchanged a bewildered look with Mal, but when he merely raised a brow she quickly flushed and hurried after Duncan.

No way was she letting herself be robbed two times in a night.

* * *

“Hey,” Zoey suddenly asked on the walk back. “Where’s Scott?”

Scott, Duncan, and Mal were the “bad guys” of the neighborhood, the misfits. They liked going out at night and causing trouble — nothing serious or endangering, but just enough graffiti to give the police a headache.

Zoey wasn’t very fond of Scott, but if his friends liked him and they were happy, who was she to judge?

“He stayed in because he had to do a biology project.” Duncan said casually, swinging her grocery bags from side to side. On her other side, Mal was carrying her other bags.

Zoey raised a brow. “And he cares because …”

“He’s failing. He spent three hours begging Dawn to help him out.”

Zoey cringed. He must really be desperate if he went crawling to Dawn. She hated his guts more than Zoey did.

“Right…” Zoey said, because she didn’t really know where to take the conversation.

“Anyway, where’re your parents?” Duncan asks. “Should they be the ones doing grocery shopping? Or at the very least, make you do it at a decent time?”

Zoey shrugged, suddenly not in a very chatty mood. “Oh, uh, they’re on a business trip.”

Duncan narrowed his eyes. “Wait, didn’t you say that last month? What —”

Zoey cut him off. “Duncan, I’m tired. So please drop the topic or else I'll text Courtney that you were on the streets beating up thugs at two am on a final’s night.” Zoey waved the phone for emphasis.

Duncan instantly backed off at the threat of bringing Courtney in. He definitely didn’t want his on-and-off girlfriend to get on his case again (even if they were broken up now). “Okay, okay, fine. I get it, I’ll back off.”

Zoey sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

She turned to look at Mal and found his eyes already on her. They were dark and scorching, and it felt like they were burning her body apart to look into her soul. It felt like he knew every secret scrawled under her skin and was taking it apart to observe at his leisure.

Zoey looked away, her heart beating nervously as her skin tingled under his eyes. “This is my stop.” Zoey stopped walking in front of her house. “Thank you for walking me home and for carrying my bags. That was very nice of you.” Zoey sent Duncan a cheeky grin, knowing how much he disliked being called “nice”.

“Just don’t tell anyone about it,” Duncan huffed, handing her the bags. “Probably about time to start heading back anyway. Later, Zoey. See ya, Mal.” With that, Duncan turned away and walked down the street.

Leaving Zoey and Mal standing alone together on the sidewalk.

“Thanks for walking me home, Mal. I appreciate it.” Zoey held out her hand for the other grocery bag.

Mal stared at her open hand uncomprehendingly, long enough for Zoey to get uncomfortable before saying, “I’m supposed to be walking you to your house.”

“We are at my house.”

“No, we’re in front of your house,” Mal corrects.

“My house is literally right there,” Zoey stabs a finger up the front lawn. “I can carry a couple of bags across the lawn. I’ll be fine.”

But Mal just stared at her unwaveringly, so Zoey huffs and marches towards the door. Mal trails after her, and it’s only until she unlocks the front door and opens it when he gives the bags to her.

Zoey flicks on the light, already feeling unsettled by the darkness before she turns to Mal. He’s already staring at her intently, and Zoey bites her lip uncertainty. “Thank you for walking me back,” she says. “For real, this time.”

“No problem,” Mal shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes flicking behind her to see the undeniably empty house. He turns to walk away, before he hesitates. “If you’re ever feeling lonely …” he starts, looking like he was already regretting it, “call me. I’ll always be there.”

Zoey’s face explodes in red and her mouth drops open. Mal quickly turns around and hurries away, leaving Zoey to gape after him in shock.

She closes the door before leaning against it sliding down to the floor. She buries her face in her hands, cheeks hot from her blush.

Yeah, she would call him. She did have his number after all.

She had all of theirs.

* * *

Vito (Spring)

Now, Vito has always been a massive player.

While Manitoba liked to flirt, Vito actually went out with girls. When he wasn't busy starting fights, he was chasing skirts — and while his behavior had always bothered Zoey, lately it bothered her for an entirely different reason.

That reason used to be because she hated the way Vito eyed girls like they were a piece of meat. The smug smirk he wore whenever he flirted with them made her want to punch him.

These days, it was because he flirted with girls. Period.

Not because he was a jerk about it, not because he was crude, not because he finally realized females were more than just boobs and a butt.

It was because every time she caught him winking at a girl or talking her up, it sent her blood spiking. Zoey would find herself gritting her teeth and clenching her fists and she didn't know why.

(Well, she did know why. She just didn't like it, so she ignored it.)

But the fact remained that something had changed, and it was aggravating the life out of her.

Despite everything, Zoey had resolved to simply ignore it. Whatever had happened to her would fade over time, and Vito was his own person (well … sort of. As much as he could be with five others in his brain). He was allowed to make out with whoever he wanted to.

Zoey also knew she was a major people’s pleaser and the type to obsess over every single detail — so she stuck to the mindset of ignoring Vito as well.

And it served her well, until one day after art club she rounded the corner and nearly crashed into Vito, who was currently sucking face with Anne Maria.

Zoey gasped and skidded to a halt. For a moment she simply stood there, gaping. Her feet were glued to the floor and her heart was pounding rapidly.

Zoey clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palm to clear her head. Zoey could feel a powerful emotion bubbling up and she bit her tongue.

What was Vito doing here? Football practice was over, he should have driven home by now. If he wanted to make out with Anne Maria then he should have done it under the bleachers — unless it was occupied by Geoff and Bridgette again. But why would he bring her here? He knew this was the path she always took to get to the bus —

Zoey suddenly stopped at the thought.

She watched as Vito pulled away and noticed Zoey staring at them in shock. For a moment their eyes met, holding a connection as they looked at each other.

Then Vito had the audacity to smirk at her, mouth pulling up in a cocky smile. His hands rested on Anne Maria’s hips and Zoey’s blood boiled.

She wanted to punch him. She wanted to punch him so bad, and she wanted to rip Anne Maria off him and yell and yell and yell until he made her shut up. But she knew what Vito would look like if she did that and Zoey would rather die than give him the satisfaction.

So instead Zoey clenched her fists, scoffed in annoyance, and brushed right past them with her head held high.

Zoey was jealous. Vito didn’t need to know that.

* * *

Chester (Winter)

Zoey was late, and she was dying.

The girl flies by pedestrians, red hair blowing out behind her as she runs down the sidewalk in a full sprint. Her legs burned and her lungs ached as she took heaving breaths of cold air.

It was one of those days in Canada where the air was so frigid it literally hurt to breathe, but the clouds still stubbornly clung to the snow that would fall later. She was late to her shift at work — too busy studying for classes after school — and had missed her bus, leaving her to wait for the second one impatiently.

Zoey burst into the shop. “I’m here!” She announced grandly.

Gwen looked up mid page-turn from her book at the register, observing the disarray that was Zoey. “You’re late,” she raised a judgemental brow.

“I know, sorry. I was just so caught up with school I lost track of time.” Zoey sighs, taking off her coat. Things would be so much easier for her if she had a ride … unfortunately, she and her ride had had a falling out a while ago and she doubted they would want to talk to her anytime soon.

Shaking off the negative thoughts, Zoey falls into the routine of getting ready. She worked at a small vintage shop that was tucked into the corner of the block for decades. Gwen had introduced it to her, and she had fallen in love with the still, older vibe of the place. Zoey was naturally attracted to older aesthetics, so it made sense that she fit in here.

Gwen and Zoey worked in tandem, attending to customers and working the register until people came in fewer and fewer. After a few hours, Zoey took a breath, checking her phone. Evening had come early, the sky turning a gorgeous shade of midnight blue outside.

Gwen reappeared from the back, bundled in a beanie and scarf. “I’m going to head out early. You okay with closing?”

Zoey smiled. “Of course,” she said, waving off Gwen’s guilty eyes. “Go have fun with Trent. I’ll see you at school.”

Gwen turned crimson, said a quick goodbye, then ran out the shop to the car parked outside at the curb. She slammed the door shut, and Zoey caught a quick glimpse of Trent waving at her before they took off.

Zoey sighed and started to close up. She was glad Gwen and Trent were back together after the rocky hardships that had actually led them to breaking up for a little bit. She wasn’t sure about the details of it — some jealousies and lack of communication — but she knew for sure that Gwen had found it hard to deal with her boyfriend's OCD, and struggled to manage it. She had confessed to Zoey about it, how she struggled to keep a normal relationship with Trent when his mental disorder was constantly interfering.

Gwen had come to her about that, asking for her advice about how to have a partner and manage their mental health, and Zoey had given it, feeling like a total hypocrite in the process.

The ding of the doorbell interrupts her thoughts, and Zoey looks up with an automatic smile to treat the last customer of the day before she freezes as she recognizes the person walking through the door.

Chester.

The alter shakes out his coat, wiping snow with a decisive sort of disdain off his cane. He looks up, takes note of Zoey’s unflattering stunned expression, and says, “Are you goin’ to be sittin’ there starin’ till my bones drop off or are you goin’ to make me some tea?”

Snapping out of it, Zoey blushes, rushing to make the drink under Chester's freezing glare. She sets down the pot, pouring the liquid into the cup as Chester grumbles before sitting down awkwardly.

“So,” Zoey manages to get her voice not to squeak. “How have you been, Chester?”

“Like you care,” Chester says gruffly and takes a sip of his tea. Perfect, just how it's always been. He and Zoey always had the same taste.

“I do care, that’s why I asked,” Zoey responds patiently. Without realizing it, her tone slips into the familiar, soothing, serenade that usually came out whenever Chester made a mean comment. “Just because we haven’t spoken in a while doesn’t mean I don’t wonder how you or everyone else is.”

Chester eyes her suspiciously, and Zoey finds herself randomly struck with how she sees him as Chester, and not Mike. To anyone else, it would look like a teenage boy was acting like an old man, but that wasn’t it. Chester hunched in on himself, and had crooked fingers that always itched for his cane; he subconsciously squinted in one eye and spoke with an inflection that Zoey never knew came from. Mike was the total opposite — he walked straight, but with a small slump in his spine as if to make himself less taller; he used enthusiastic hand motions and spoke loudly when excited. He didn't even like tea like Chester — he preferred juice.

“I’m as fine as these old bones can be in this weather,” Chester says after a moment.

“I see,” Zoey smiles. “You should stay inside and keep warm — what will happen if you slip and fall?” Even if Mike’s body was still young and strong, he had Chester’s psychology — so if he fell, he’d be in immense pain because he believed he had the bones of an old man and wouldn’t be able to get up on his own because of the psychological limits in Chester’s own mind.

“ ’s not like I meant to come out on my own,” Chester scowls. “The boy was already frustrated before that darn hooligan ran the red light while we were crossing. Nearly hit us too, that no good son of a —”

“You’re walking in this weather?” Zoey interrupts before he can go on his tirade. “What about your car?” Mike’s parents had bought him a car in the middle of autumn for passing his drivers test, a beat-up old thing. But still, Mike loved it, and the rest of his alters did too, taking it and driving it around to all their individual appointments.

It had been a fight for Mike to get his license — officials were too worried about him disassociating and switching out while he was driving — but thanks to his psychiatrist’s approval and his adopted parents pushing, he was finally able to get it. She can still remember how proudly Mike's eyes had shone when he first showed her his ID.

“Parents took it away,” Chester grunted. “He was switchin’ out with the rest of us too much.”

“Oh,” Zoey’s mouth felt dry. “I —”

“He's a mess without you, you know. They all are, those stupid young fools. But you should know, with what you said before.”

Zoey feels the words hit, like a sucker-punch to the gut. Her mind flashes back to the time when she asked Mike out. She had worn her favorite red halter top, with wildflower sticker tattoos stamped up her arm as she had rubbed it shyly. She had been so nervous; it had felt like the nerves her belly had turned into a livewire full of electric butterflies.

The words she’d said to him came back to her when he asked why she liked him.

"It's just that … the sort of mess you are ... has always felt like the sort of mess I am.”

How cruel of Chester to bring that up so suddenly. But then again, Chester never really had a problem with being cruel when he wanted to get his words across. Zoey found herself momentarily at a loss of words, stomach flipping in guilt. “That’s not … I didn’t …” What was she supposed to say? Sorry? As great at apologizing as she was, that felt too insensitive to say.

She was self-aware enough to know that she couldn’t keep her friendship with Mike, not after how much she’d hurt him. Maybe if they talked more, if she’d been more commutative …

The familiar sting of tears building up mortifies Zoey and she hides her face behind her hand, squeezing her eyes shut. That only makes it worse as the pressure causes a few wayward drops to slip out. God no, she wouldn’t cry in front of Chester, she wouldn’t …

Zoey waits for the sound of disgust that should be coming from him, a grumble about how sentimental young people were, but —

Something soft touches her cheek and she looks up to see Chester avoiding her eyes, holding out a handkerchief. She sniffles, taking it from his hand and unceremoniously scrubbing her eyes as hard as she can.

“You want to help everyone. You're too sweet to be alone,” Chester says gruffly. “Too dependent on others. You’d save a houseplant if you thought it could be your friend.”

Zoey lets out a choked laugh, not sure if she should be amused or offended at the words. “I just — I thought I'd get over it by now. We weren't even together that long anyways.”

Chester stared at her. “Why do ya still miss him? You’re the one that left.”

Zoey stares down into her cup, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Sometimes you don't get a choice. You think about someone ... a lot.” After she broke up with Mike, she had hoped that that would be the last of it. That he would fade into the background of all the other students, and that the only thing left would be a bittersweet memory.

But no. He still lingers, in her heart and in her mind. He was a bolt out of the blue, and a catastrophe that shakes her to the core. She could go about her day just like any other, and like a habit, she'd think of him.

“That’s what happens when ya give up on somethin’ ya care about. You grieve it just as much as you loved it.”

Zoey glances up at Chester before looking away again.

“What do I do now?” She whispers.

Chester takes a sip of his tea. “Ya know what you did wrong. Ya know what ya wanna change. The only thing that you can do now is try to be better next time around.”

Zoey blinks, the bowstring tightness drawn around her shoulders loosening at his words. She gazes into the mug like it holds all the answers, thoughts swirling around her head like a whirlwind. The fears and insecurities still weighed in her consciousness but now — although tentative — resolve was there as well.

She took a sip of her tea as well, chamomile lingering on her tongue. She could still try.

She wanted to try.

* * *

Svetlana (Winter)

Zoey watches on the sidelines as Svetlana dances on the ice, lost in her own music. The scrapes of ice against her blades are the only sound in the rink. It's completely empty, which she felt fortunate for because now Svetlana can completely focus on her routine while Zoey sits on the sidelines.

Svetlana skates by again, arms moving like the wind, somehow making the most complicated movements look like the easiest thing in the world.

She was intricately beautiful, and Zoey can’t take her eyes off her. Even with all the inner turmoil in her head, she can’t help but stop and stare at her. She knew this place — here, on the ice rink — was where Svetlana belonged. Skating was her passion, and the movements of the dance were her religion. The air rushing by her ears could clear her head more than any words can, and Zoey knows that she is the reason why Svetlana is out on the ice.

The cold bites her fingers numb and brings a rosy color to her cheeks, stinging like a slap. Zoey didn’t bring gloves with her, a self-inflicting punishment for what is to come. If this was, perhaps, a month ago, she would have been out on the ice with her, sliding on her skates and trying to catch up to Svetlana. Laughter would be echoing throughout the rink as she kept on slipping, not the void of silence now between them.

She couldn't do it anymore.

She could feel her mind fracturing the more she was stretched thin.

She was just so tired. She couldn't handle it. Dating five personalities, each with their own individual traumas, was too much. The stress, the insecurities, the fears were piling up and she just wanted a break.

She thinks (or hopes, maybe) that the others can sense it — her pulling away. It was cowardly, but she hoped that they would willingly drift off into the sea of faces in the school so that Zoey wouldn’t be able to say anything at all.

Svetlana dances across the ice, blissfully lost in her own winter wonderland and slows to a stop. She opens her eyes and catches Zoey’s. She isn’t quite sure what look reads in her gaze, but Svetlana doesn’t skate forward and close the seemingly sudden large gap between them.

Zoey was gonna break her heart. Take the fragile organ that all of the alters held so dear and shatter it into a million pieces.

* * *

Manitoba (Fall)

Manitoba pulled her along by her hand, dragging her to wherever he was taking her. She honestly had no clue. Mike had switched when he was in gym class, and the now-present Manitoba Smith had promptly ditched and went to seek Zoey out, even though she was in a different class at the time.

It had been … an experience to find out about Mike’s alters. She had known that he had some sort of disorder, because he always seemed to have a pink slip note of visiting the counselor’s office. It wasn’t until Mike had told her about his Multiple Personality Disorder —or Dissociative Identity Disorder, as Cameron often corrected— and Cameron had explained what it was when she suddenly understood.

Apparently, back at his old school, Mike had been severely bullied for his disorder and was often called a freak. Monster. Jekyll and Hyde. It had enraged Zoey beyond reason. She herself had been picked on for being different back in her old town, and she knew how much words could hurt.

When he came here, Mike’s plan of laying low was shot when he saw Duncan, who recognized him when they were in juvie, and from Scott, who had wrangled the truth from Cameron with slightly unethical means. Because it was a small school, the information traveled around the grapevine. Nobody batted an eye. Wawanaka High, if nothing else, was filled with eccentric people.

Mike had explained that he didn’t tell her about his personalities sooner because he was afraid she would think he was a freak, but Zoey had simply laughed and told him how much she loved oddballs. But secretly, she was nervous. She had no idea on how to handle his alters, or his trauma that sometimes arose at the most random things. It had been weird, and scary, and confusing, to see the boy she liked (like … really liked), acting like someone else entirely. His posture, his voice, his entire attitude did a complete turn around, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

“Why are you dragging me out of class?” Zoey complains. “We have midterms coming up, and—”

“You’re focusing on the wrong things, treasure!” Manitoba laughs. Zoey trips at the nickname. “You only live once! Why not make this one worth living with adventure!”

Easy for him to say. Mike was the only one who had to focus on school grades and studying. All the others were there for fun.

Manitoba leads them up the stairs to the roof and Zoey withdraws when she sees the Emergency Exit plastered on the doorway.

“Wait, what are you doing?!”

“Huh?”

“You’ll set off the fire alarm!”

Manitoba laughs like she’s said something cute. He opens the doorway to the rooftop and Zoey holds her breath, waiting for the alarms to start. When there is nothing, she lets it out almost disappointedly. A dud.

Manitoba doesn’t let go of her hand as they walk onto the roof and Zoey doesn’t pull away either as she looks around. So this is where Manitoba went whenever Mike switched out with him. Since Mike had a full-time pass to the counselor’s, he was technically obligated to go there whenever he felt like he was about to dissociate, but he and the others never did. She knows that for a fact because the other alters have been caught trying to leave school (Vito and Manitoba mostly) and now Zoey finally knows where one of them disappears.

Zoey can’t help but stare at him while his back is towards her.

She liked to keep busy. Needed to, really, because then she can ignore the persistent loneliness that ached whenever she was alone in a house that was too big for only her. So she made friends, joined clubs, and studied hard. She took it as a challenge when Cameron had asked if she would date any of the alters since she was dating Mike. If her boyfriend had more parts of himself then she wanted to know them as well.

And she liked them, too. Zoey didn’t doubt that before long she would like them just as much as she liked Mike. Svetlana had a beautiful soul and Zoey loved spending time with her. Manitoba was wild but captivating and she could feel herself getting used to him as well. Vito was coming around as well, taking her on drives whenever possible. She was slowly finding the gaps in Chester’s prickly nature and she remained a polite distance with the ever-elusive Mal.

There were doubts, perhaps, that she had been too hopeful. Not that she would ever think Mike a freak, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she had bitten off more than she could chew. If she was truly the right person to handle this. Zoey had her own problems and insecurities, and she could admit that she was prone to keeping it in due to her upbringing — unlike Mike, who knew how to communicate thanks to his training with his therapist.

“You get quiet when you’re stressed.”

She blinks, broken out of her thoughts due to Manitoba’s casual remark.

“Sorry,” she said. “I think more in my head than aloud.”

“I know, love.”

Zoey is glad Manitoba doesn’t comment on the small jerk she makes at his nickname and her furious blush. It was still embarrassing to get used to the others’ affection.

“Now, get on the ledge, Sheila.”

Zoey raises a brow.

Manitoba’s mouth curved into a smirk. “’Course, if you’re feeling afraid I’ll have no problem holding onto a beautiful—”

Maybe it was because of the thought of Manitoba thinking that she was weak or too afraid or boring to do it, but before she thought about it she grabbed onto the metal bars separating her from the ledge and leaped over them. Her converse hit the other side and Zoey spun around to face open air. The wind wasn’t too bad, but if she let go of the bar it would only take a push to send her careening to her death.

Zoey glanced over her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips. “You were saying?”

Manitoba gazed at her, none of his usual cockiness in his eyes. “Look.”

She's never had a fear of heights, so she isn't afraid when she stares down at the world. Trees dappled with red, orange, and gold leaves lined the block of houses they adorned. The cars looked like toys on the winding road, the people so small they looked like ants. She hears Manitoba jump on the ledge to join her but doesn't turn her head.

“Wrong place, Shiela.”

“What?” Zoey asks. She turns to look at Manitoba only to see him watching her already.

“You’re looking in the wrong place.”

Without any further comment, he takes her chin and gently lifts it up so her gaze shifts upwards. Away from the town and to the world beyond that. Midnight-colored lakes, rolling plains, and forests stretching as far as the eye can see. And even farther, mountains peaking towards the blue sky, desperate to touch the clouds.

The air rushed out of her in her next breath.

And suddenly, Zoey understood what Manitoba was trying to make her get. There was a whole world out there. A whole country, and whole continent, even, and Zoey was still lost in her head. Her problems seemed like nothing in the grand scheme of things, and Zoey was just letting her life pass her by because she let them consume her.

She stands on the edge of the rooftop. Wind brushes along her skin, causing goosebumps to rise along her arm, but Zoey doesn’t say anything. She didn’t bring her jacket, and Manitoba wasn’t wearing one either. Even if he was, she doubted she would ask for it. She stands on the ledge, making no move to shield herself from the wind and looks at the Canadian wilderness in front of them.

She tips her head back and closes her eyes, the wind making the loose strands of her hair fly around her. Her feet felt rooted to her place, but she imagines herself as free as a bird. She could taste the tantalizing weight of wilderness on her tongue and wants.

So Zoey stands, and stares, and breathes.

* * *

Mike (Fall)

Zoey walked into her last class of the day, Chemistry. It had taken her a while to find the classroom, so most of the tables were filled up. She spotted Lightning in the back showing off with Cody staring up with adoring eyes. Noah was on the other side of the class, rolling his eyes at the antics before burying his nose in his book.

Apprehension pooled her gut. She didn’t know who to sit by and barely knew anyone. The class was mainly filled with seniors she only knew by name with only a handful of juniors she had never spoken to.

Zoey feels sick. She wants to walk right out. Why was her social anxiety starting to act up now?

She spots a boy sitting with a table to himself, a giant bookbag next to him. He’s hunched over, like he wasn’t used to the open air around him, and is wearing thick glasses and a giant red hoodie that hide nothing with how scrawny he is. Zoey is surprised to see him have such a big bag, seeing as how the boy is basically twigs it looks like even the weight of a butterfly could knock him over.

He seemed like the safest bet to sit next to.

Zoey walks towards the small boy — anxiety trembling in her bones — and gives him a nice smile, trying to appear more confident than she truely was.

“Hi!” She greets cheerfully. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

The boy jolts so hard that he nearly topples to the floor. “Oh! Yeah, sure! No problem!” He eagerly swipes all his belongings off the side of the table to make room for her.

“Thanks,” she says, taking a seat. Continue the conversation, ask questions rings in her head from all the How-To-Make-Friends podcasts she had obsessively listened to over the summer. “I don't think I've ever seen you around before. Are you a freshman?”

The boy lights up, and soon he is talking a mile a minute. His name is Cameron, and he's sixteen like her — which surprised her, given his small stature — but this is his first year of attending Wawanakwa High after being homeschooled all his life. Apparently his mother was obsessively overprotective of her only son and as a result, Cameron was what was known as a “bubble boy”. He was sweet though, and eager, even though he lacked any real world experience he was quite knowledgeable in academics.

By the time Cameron kindly offers her some hand sanitizer, Zoey is estatic to find that she has made her first real friend of the year.

Their conversation comes to a natural lull and Zoey busies herself organizing her backpack and pulling out the notebook she will need for the class.

Officially, chemistry should have already started, but none of the seniors pause in their continuous chatter and after waiting for another awkward couple of minutes, Cameron turns and asks a senior, Courtney, where the teacher was. The honors student makes a face, nose wrinkling in a way that makes her freckles scrunch cutely and responds, “Our teacher is Blainely. She never shows up to class on time, no matter how much Principal McLean complains.”

A desk over, a girl named Heather with beautiful, glossy long hair, scoffs in a way that shows her just how much she’s a fan of their teacher and goes back to filing her nails. Zoey wants to compliment her on her hair, but something primal very deep inside of her tells her that any word spoken to her would be met with a nasty comment on her hair.

She goes back to doodling on her own notebook before all of the sudden the door slams open and a harried teen rushes in. He’s holding a pink slip that meant he was coming from the office, and after seeing that the teacher is nowhere in sight, looks for a table.

He lights up as he sees the only open seat on Cameron’s other side and hurries towards it, practically dumping all his belongings on the table as he collapses in his seat.

“Hey,” he says, running his fingers through his spiky hair. “Did class start yet?”

Cameron shook his head no.

“Really? But didn’t class start like —” he glances at the clock, “— ten minutes ago?”

“Well, our teacher for this class is Ms. Blainely, and I heard she doesn't care about tardiness because she's always late.” Zoey reports back what Courtney said to her.

“Can’t see why,” the boy responds flippantly. “We’re as pleasant as all the teachers in the school.”

Zoey feels her cheeks pull up in a grin and she giggles. “Nice to meet you. I’m —”

Blainely slams through the door of her classroom like a typhoon of bravado and too-much confidence for a teacher who was late to her own class by ten minutes. “Alright, you little brats, it’s time for Chemistry!” She sing-songs.

There’s a thunk from behind of Bridgette slamming her head into her table and her deskmate Lindsay sympathetically pats her on the back. A few tables over, Heather fake gags.

Blainely, in her true, characteristic nonchalant fashion, tells them to have at it in mixing the chemicals after barely skimming the safety protocols and handing out labs.

Her, Cameron, and their new teammate work in tandem together, like they’re a well-oiled machine. He cracks jokes with Cameron and laughs with Zoey, and she feels her cheeks getting sore with how much she's grinning.

She hasn't had this much fun in a long time. Their new teammate is charismatic. And cute. And nice. Zoey didn’t really have a type, but if she did …

Well. It would probably be him.

From over Cameron’s head where he’s chattering, Zoey chances a peek at the boy to see him already watching her. Her heart leaps in surprise and she can’t help but stare at him even after he quickly glances away. Does she have pen ink on her face? It wouldn’t be the first time. Zoey opens her mouth to ask, but before she could —

The bell rings.

The students stir and begin packing their bags with vigor, chatter filling the air as the last class of the day is finished. Cameron bids them goodbye and leaves quickly, and Zoey waves as he practically sprints towards the door, saying something about his mom picking him up.

She spots the boy beginning to pack his bag with the new chemistry papers and realizes amongst all the fun they had together, she has yet to learn his name.

“Hey,” Zoey smiles over the space at the boy. “My name is Zoey.”

The boy blinks, then gives her this big, beautiful, beaming grin that seemed to light up his entire face. Zoey feels her heart skip a beat, then trip and stumble and crash against her ribcage at the sight of it. Oh boy.

“I'm … Mike.”

* * *

Teenage Mercenary Aesthetics

So, if you don’t know this webcomic download Webtoon right now and read Teenage Mercenary!

Summary: At the age of nine, Ijin Yu lost his parents and was the sole survivor of a plane crash. Stranded in a foreign land, alone and amnesiac, Ijin was forced to become a child mercenary to stay alive. Ten years later, he returns to his home country, Korea, to reunite with his family and live a normal life. But the past has an awful way of dredging itself back up …

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“What’s in a name? It brings meaning to the meaningless. Because a name gives recognition.”

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