“So, what do you think?” Cynthia asked, only to be met with silence.

  She turned to Queenie, narrowing her eyes.

  “You were listening, right?”

  The Gabite let out a slow yawn, stretching her arms lazily before waving one in a vague, dismissive motion, like to say, of course she had been.

  Cynthia folded her arms. “So you agree, then? That I was in the wrong?”

  Queenie studied her trainer for a long moment, her golden eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. Then, ever so slowly, she nodded.

  Cynthia inhaled sharply, staring at her partner with deep, exaggerated disappointment. “Because if you did agree with that,” she said, voice heavy with betrayal, “then you’d be admitting that you’ve just been nodding along for the last half an hour. Because that was the opposite of what I was saying!”

  Queenie blinked once. Then, with the same slow deliberation, she nodded again.

  Cynthia groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Unbelievable! How could you not be paying attention? I need your advice!”

  Golden eyes stared at her.

  A beat passed.

  “Gabite,” Queenie said at last, shaking her head.

  Then, without another word, she calmly tapped a claw against the Poké Ball on Cynthia’s belt. In a flash of red light, she vanished.

  Cynthia froze.

  She looked down at her side.

  Then pursed her lips.

  “Huh,” she mumbled, letting her hands slowly fall.

  A bitter smile spread across her lips.

  “Yeah… I get it. I’m just being stupid,” she whispered.

  Honestly, the fact that Queenie had even bothered to listen to her rant was more than kind enough of the exhausted Dragon-type. While she hadn’t been training physically, working to generate and control Fire-type energy was draining enough that she had every right to excuse herself from the conversation entirely.

  The wind blew across the grass, rustling Cynthia’s hair as she glanced towards town. Then, with heavy feet she walked towards it, steeling herself.

  She had to talk to him.

  For science.

  …..

  “Oh, he left before you, then came back for like an hour before leaving again. Asked for you,” Elena drawled from the table where she lay, face down.

  Cynthia felt a twinge of regret for interrogating her, considering she looked like every bone in her body had slowly dissolved over the course of her night shift. Then her words registered.

  “He left before me?”

  Elena lifted her head just enough to look at her. “Doesn’t he always wake up first?”

  “No, I mean, yes, but I woke up at five today! He usually wakes up at six!”

  Elena raised an eyebrow, like she wanted to ask how Cynthia knew that, but didn’t comment. Instead, she let out a sigh. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He came back around half past eight to see if you were here, and then left again when he couldn’t find you.”

  Cynthia did the math quickly in her head. If he had been here around half past eight, that was right around the time she would usually be getting back from her morning run.

  He would have caught her any other day.

  That thought was almost scary, and even as she felt a flicker of frustration over the fact he wasn’t here, a wave of relief washed over her at the same time. She wasn’t sure she’d have been ready to talk to him then.

  Hell, even as the clock approached noon, she still didn’t really feel ready

  But…

  Her thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Queenie, and she clenched her fists.

  Some things were simply more important.

  “Did he mention where he was going?”

  Elena had seemingly zoned out, staring blankly at the clock and only managed to blink slowly when Cynthia spoke. Still, after a couple of seconds, she slowly managed to refocus.

  “Wha? Oh, uh… no. He just asked if I’d seen you.”

  Cynthia frowned. “Did you at least see which way he left?”

  Elena didn’t answer. Her eyes were back on the clock as the second hand inched toward twelve. The moment it hit, she slammed her palms onto the desk.

  “No,” she said.

  And then she bolted.

  Cynthia barely had time to react as Elena rushed toward her usual workstation, swiped her ID card in one fluid motion, and shot a nod toward the head Nurse before sprinting upstairs toward her room.

  Cynthia stared blankly at the space Elena had occupied a second ago, then sighed.

  The first part of the day, she hadn’t wanted to see his face. Now that she was looking for him, he was nowhere to be found.

  Typical.

  It was almost funny, how he could somehow annoy her even when he wasn’t even there. Still, she gave it some thought. If he had left, where would he have gone? The practice fields were an option, but… unlikely.

  That left…

  Cynthia tapped her fingers against the table, gaze shifting toward the map hanging outside. Her eyes landed on the small, near-imperceptible writing. She didn’t need to read it to know what it said.

  Eterna Forest.

  …..

  It was honestly luck.

  Nothing else.

  He sat curled against a tree, arms loosely around his knees, watching as Rei and Ralts trained. Rei darted forward again and again, her paws flickering with frost as she worked to make the transition from Quick Attack into Ice Punch seamless. Just a few feet away, Ralts stood with her eyes narrowed, holding half a dozen stones in midair with Confusion, each one bobbing at a different rhythm, rising and falling like a conductor guiding six separate songs at once.

  Cynthia stopped, observing him.

  Every so often, he would call out advice. Telling Rei to stop trying to force the entire transition at once and instead focus on shaving down the time between moves bit by bit. Or noticing when Ralts wasn’t struggling and encouraging her to add another stone.

  She didn’t interrupt. Instead, she walked up and, without a word, sat down beside him.

  It spoke to his concentration that he didn’t react. His lips pressed together in thought, eyes still tracking his Pokémon.

  Cynthia tilted her head slightly.

  “You don’t think it would be better for Ralts to focus more on power for now, and less on control? It’s hard to damage someone if all she can do is pick up twenty small rocks, but can’t throw one big one.”

  Myst didn’t flinch, and in that moment, she realized she'd been wrong. He had noticed her; he just hadn't acknowledged it… letting her decide if she wanted to talk first.

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I think most people can figure out how to put more power into something. Learning how to be measured, how to control that power? That’s a lot harder. Better to start with it first, so it becomes a habit. Maybe Rei wouldn’t be having this much trouble if I had done the same with her.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Cynthia wrinkled her nose. “You say that, but you have no idea if that’s true, do you? You still haven’t touched the book you bought on beginner training tips, after all.”

  Myst tried, really tried, but his face still cracked into a smile. “I mean, of course, but it feels like it should be right.”

  Cynthia sighed. “Well, you can be happy to know there’s absolutely no consensus on the matter. Though, for the record, I favour focusing on building up how much power you can use first, it’s easier to learn control when you have already learned to control more of it.”

  Myst smirked. “Well, with my track record, I think there’s about to b—” He shut his mouth with a clank.

  Cynthia frowned, irritation bubbling up at his reaction.

  “You can finish your sentence, you know?” she said.

  Myst’s smile turned awkward. Too awkward.

  Cynthia narrowed her eyes.

  It wasn’t hard to guess why he stopped himself. And for some reason, that only made her more annoyed.

  Honestly, why did she even bother?

  “Well, if it’s going to be like that, I think I’ll just leave you to it,” she snapped, pushing herself to her feet.

  She turned, only to stop.

  She glanced down.

  A hand wrapped around her wrist.

  And just like that, irritation twisted into something hotter.

  “Wait.”

  His voice didn’t help.

  She tore her arm from his grip and spun around, mouth already open to—

  Stop.

  His normally vibrant blue eyes were bloodshot. Not just tired. Something else. Something worse. Like he hadn’t really slept, or maybe even had been…

  She swallowed, her stomach twisting slightly.

  “Cynthia, please. I just want to talk okay. Give me a few minutes.” He asked, no begged.

  It was unlike him.

  Myst wasn’t a person that looked like this.

  Tired?

  Sure.

  Like he was two steps from dying?

  Of course.

  But distraught?

  Broken down?

  Looking like he was about to cry?

  Never.

  For a moment, she just stared.

  His hand fell away.

  She swallowed again, and before he could say anything more, she nodded and sat back down beside him.

  He smiled at her, the relief so overwhelming it almost stole her breath.

  "Thanks," he said, as though he hadn’t expected her to stay.

  And, annoyingly, Cynthia felt irritation bubble up again. Did he really think she would just leave after that?

  She was the one who had found him.

  She huffed in response and turned her gaze back to Ralts and Rei, forcing herself not to look at him.

  It didn’t work.

  Her eyes trailed down to his hands, watching as he absently plucked a few blades of grass and let them flutter away in the wind.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  “Well, you are forgiven,” she said, almost automatically.

  Myst paused for a second.

  Cynthia rolled her eyes. She came here to apologise after all, just because she wasn’t in the wrong didn’t mean she didn’t do anything wrong.

  "You think I wouldn’t forgive you?" she said, half mocking. "Honestly, it wasn’t that big a deal. I was tired. I overreacted, too."

  Myst let out a breath, his smile soft, almost vulnerable.

  “You know, I—” He stopped. Hesitated. Weighed his words.

  “You what?” she prompted.

  His lips pressed together. Then, he leaned forward just slightly, just far enough for his face to be obscured by his dark hair.

  “It’s not the same, you know that right? What you did compared to what I did… I want to properly apologize, but honestly?” His voice sounded almost helpless as he continued, “I just don’t know what to say.”

  He straightened a little, turning towards her again.

  “I want to apologize because I was stupid. I didn’t think when I spoke. I want to go back in time and smash my fist into my own face, because I know that if nothing else changed, I would probably say the same thing. I want to explain that I was…" He paused, then corrected himself, "No, that I am stupid, and that trying to… I don’t even know what I thought. That I would cheer you up by being a dick?”

  His smile dropped.

  “It doesn’t matter, I guess, what I wanted is irrelevant when I end up hurting you. In the end I can’t change what happened, and even if I could I don’t think it would matter, because I feel like I’m inevitably going to make a similar mistake.”

  He grinned again, but it was crooked, self-deprecating. “I swear, everyone else seems to have these social antennas pointing straight up,” he said, mimicking the gesture with two fingers held high like horns, “while mine are down here.” He retracted them slightly, giving a half-hearted shrug.

  “I don’t have an excuse. I don’t know why I’m like this. Honestly, I almost want to blame everything else, the whole world. I feel like an alien. Everything I encounter is new. Everything feels wrong. People ask me things, assume I should just know, and I don’t. So I end up running full speed ahead because that’s the only way I feel like I have control. I joke around because it’s the only way I know how to handle it. If I don’t make light of it, then...”

  He closed his eyes, alongside his mouth.

  I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

  She still heard his words.

  Opening his eyes he stared into her’s.

  “But that would just be stupid. Blaming the world for everything, like a kid who’s afraid to take responsibility... It’s my problem, and only I can fix it.”

  Cynthia opened her mouth, but he didn’t let her.

  “Maybe that’s why I keep placing you on a pedestal,” he continued, words tumbling out like he couldn’t stop. "You have a clear plan for what you want. You don’t hesitate. You don’t care what others think or what they think you should do. You never dismiss people or talk down to them, even when you should. I can’t even shut up if my life depends on it, while you know exactly what to say. I know you have bad days. I’ve seen them. But I just… can’t get it through my thick skull."

  He tapped his head, just hard enough that it had to have hurt.

  “So I’m sorry, not just for what I said, but because you’re too nice to me. I want to say I’ll stop joking around so much, that I’ll stop making everything into a joke, but—”

  Cynthia tried to cut him off.

  “Myst,” she said quietly.

  “You have everything together, and I’m just—”

  He didn’t notice.

  “Myst!” she tried again, sharper.

  He paused.

  "You are overreacting," she said simply.

  He blinked.

  "Do you joke too much? Sure. But that’s fine. I don’t mind it most of the time. Sometimes, they can even be," Cynthia hesitated, but powered through anyway, “funny.”

  He opened his mouth.

  This time she didn’t let him.

  “Did I get mad? Yes. Because I was tired. Because you hit a sore spot. Because you didn’t think. So you should apologize, and I wanted you to apologize. But honestly?”

  She glared at him.

  “I felt like I was at fault as much as you. You say you put me on a pedestal? Well, it doesn’t seem like it. I dragged you through a forest when you were two steps from death. You tanked a freaking Slash for me. And then you think some words are enough for me to hate you forever? That I can’t handle a joke from a friend landing badly? Doesn’t seem like you have a very high opinion of me.”

  She took a deep breath, steadying herself, her chest rising and falling with the intensity of her emotions.

  Myst opened his mouth again.

  She glared.

  He closed it.

  With a few more deep breaths, Cynthia continued.

  "You didn’t know how I felt. It wasn’t like I said anything. Could you have figured it out? Maybe. But you’re not a mind reader, and I don’t expect you to be. Could you tone down your jokes? Like I said, sure. But I also don’t mind if you don’t. I am more than capable of speaking up if I feel you are being an idiot. I am not some kind of glass flower, and I promise you, if I felt like you were being mean, or if I hated your quips, I wouldn’t want to travel with you.”

  She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. “I wouldn’t have called my grandmother for a favour, and I definitely wouldn’t have helped you sign up for the Gym Challenge last minute. No, I would’ve tied you up back in Eterna Forest, thrown you over Queenie’s back, and dropped you off at the nearest Pokécenter.”

  She resisted the urge to sigh at the way his face slowly turned to sheer dumbfoundedness.

  “So, if you want to feel bad fine, but don’t drag me into it. You were insensitive, I almost killed you, if you want to make that an even trade then I don’t mind.”

  For a moment, Myst just stared at her, before a smile slowly spread across his face.

  “Okay, deal.” He said, voice dead serious.

  Cynthia rolled her eyes.

  They both sat in silence for almost a minute.

  It was odd. On one hand, she felt lighter, like a burden had been lifted. On the other, she was utterly exhausted.

  She sighed.

  “You know Myst, I had a reason to find you. A whole plan about how I was going to apologize to you, so I could talk to you about actual important stuff, but you went ahead and ruined it with this entire,” She waved her hand around, turning her nose up, “séance.”

  Myst let out a low laugh, just forced enough that she understood he had caught onto what she was doing.

  “I mean, I had a better plan originally, but then you suddenly decided to change up your routine, so my plan kind of... got hairy,” he said with a smirk.

  “You had a plan?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, I had a plan.” Myst replied with a shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

  Cynthia grinned.

  Myst smiled back.

  “Still, what is this serious stuff.”

  Cynthia blinked, but a flutter of excitement raced through her chest as her mind darted back to the discovery she’d made.

  She paused.

  Well, they made.

  A beat passed.

  Ok, he made.

  She pushed the thoughts aside and focused. “You remember that training method you told me about for Rei? The one where you try to figure out what their concept of the type is?”

  Myst tilted his head, as though trying to recall the conversation. “Yeah, of course,” he said slowly.

  Cynthia practically beamed. “I tried it on Gabite, and it worked. Instantly.”

  Myst’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. “That… you mean...?”

  Cynthia felt her grin widen.

  “Yeah.”

  Myst paused deliberately, his eyes narrowing, and then he grinned slyly. “Actually, I have no idea what that means. So, how about you explain it to me?”

  Cynthia instantly grabbed her heart.

  She let out a grunt of pain, and fell sideways dramatically, her arms flailing as she pretended to collapse in shock.

  He laughed.

  She giggled.

  ……….

  Cynthia walked into her room, feeling lighter than she had hoped when the day began. Honestly, for how bad yesterday had been, today had been downright miraculous. Hell, it almost made her wonder if it was just her luck turning around.

  “Cynthia?” A girl’s voice called out.

  She stiffened.

  Shit.

  Like a robot with bad joints, she turned towards the voice, only to spot a girl with long brown hair staring at her with a soft smile. Cynthia relaxed slightly at the lack of a negative reaction.

  “Great. Wasn’t sure what to do, but now I can just ask. A tall boy asked me if I could put this on your bed. I wasn’t sure if he had bad intentions, so I figured I’d hold onto it and give it to you before you went to sleep,” the girl said, fishing a box from under her bed. It was wrapped in dark paper with a letter laid on top.

  Cynthia walked over and took it from the girl’s hands. Picking it up she flipped the letter over and scanned it quickly.

  At the words she let out a helpless smile.

  Sorry.

  I’m stupid.

  Please forgive me.

  - Myst

  “Yeah, it’s fine.”

  The girl shrugged. “Also, sorry, but I read it. I didn’t mean to but… well, needed to figure out if it seemed legit. Your boyfriend did something stupid or what?”

  “Friend, and…” Cynthia corrected, but trailed off.

  The girl shook her head. “Whatever. He seems like a good guy, though, if he felt bad enough about it to give you a gift. Or well, at le—” She paused, glancing at the clock, rapidly nearing six a.m. “Oh shit, I gotta go, meeting a friend. Catch you later.”

  And just like that, the girl rushed out the door.

  Cynthia followed her with her eyes for a moment, then turned back to the box. She placed it on her bed and carefully unwrapped it, ensuring not to damage the paper. Inside, she found a completely black box. She cracked a smile, but as she opened the lid, her eyes immediately zeroed in on the contents.

  Nestled neatly in the dark velvet was a small black and yellow hair tie. It resembled a blend of Lucario’s head appendages, adorned with Umbreon’s rings.

  Cynthia’s smile softened.