He didn’t lie down so much as collapse.

  It was hard to say what he was feeling.

  Relief?

  Happiness?

  Honestly, the most accurate word would probably be numb. Like someone had taken his emotions and put them through a wringer, squeezing him dry until all that remained was an odd, empty feeling.

  “Fuck,” he mumbled to himself, draping a hand over his eyes.

  Today had been too long.

  And it wasn’t even over yet.

  With a deep breath, he turned to the side, slid a hand under his pillow, and pulled out a notebook.

  It had been on sale, and he’d bought it impulsively after seeing Cynthia pick one up for herself.

  At first, he’d thought it might serve as a diary, or maybe even a planner like Cynthia wanted hers for. But after scribbling a few sentences, he’d realized that he didn’t have the patience to use it for any of those things.

  So, flipping through the pages, he skipped past the empty dates, his fingers landing on yesterday’s entry.

  The first time he had been bored enough to try doing anything with it.

  He paused, letting his gaze linger on the page for a moment.

  Back in the forest, there had always been something to do. Not a single moment had gone to waste. He was foraging for food, training Rei, or helping Lopunny with the younger children. One thing after another, a constant stream of tasks that barely managed to keep his mind off everything.

  For some reason, he had imagined it would be the same when he returned to civilization, or maybe even better. That more options would mean less downtime.

  That could not have been further from the truth.

  Sure, he could train Rei and Ralts, but there was a limit to how long a Pokémon could train. They could use their moves plenty of times, but Type Energy wasn’t infinite. In short battles, it was almost never a problem, but while training? There were only so many times Rei could chain Quick Attack into Ice Punch before exhaustion set in.

  Even more basic training had its limits. Pokémon were stronger than humans, with endurance to match, but Rei would still collapse if she ran too long. Hell, even focusing on the things Lopunny taught him, getting Rei to absorb Aura into herself after training, had diminishing returns.

  So what did he do with the rest of his time?

  He spent it with Cynthia.

  Talking about training.

  Getting help.

  Having fun.

  It had been enough to keep his mind off the fact that he had nothing else to do. Keep it off how the official who was supposed to help him seemed more interested in asking questions he couldn’t answer and off how everything still felt wrong.

  Myst traced a finger over the page.

  It was almost ironic.

  In the forest, the option of talking to other people hadn’t even existed, but somehow, he had never really felt lonely. The absence of others hadn’t registered, so he hadn’t missed them.

  A bitter smile spread over his lips.

  Now?

  Cynthia had gone to work for the day, and he, like some kind of stray dog waiting for its owner, had spent the entire time just anticipating her return. It wasn’t even as if he hadn’t tried to keep himself busy, he had.

  But it was easier said than done.

  The training grounds were full of people, but most stuck with their own friends. And the ones who didn’t? Well, there was usually a reason for that. So, in the end, after buying the supplements the beginning trainer guide recommended he just waited... for the rest of the day.

  What a freaking joke.

  Never mind how stupid it sounded; it couldn’t even be healthy. His entire life shouldn’t revolve around her, for his sake and for hers.

  It wasn’t normal.

  Other people had friends, family, and connections.

  A support network.

  Hobbies.

  Something.

  What did he have?

  He had Rei. He had Ralts.

  And he had Cynthia.

  The girl who had decided to go on a journey with him, for some god forsaken reason.

  The girl he couldn’t stop wanting to laugh.

  Whose blond hair shone like a halo.

  Whose hidden smiles—

  “So, Cynthia, did you finally manage to find out how to work hard while toiling among the common folk, or was it too far beneath you?”

  His grip tightened. The notebook nearly tore as he once again remembered. His hand shook, muscles locked as he forced himself to let go. Too much time had gone into this page. He wouldn’t ruin it.

  Again.

  Myst took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he loosened his grip.

  It was honestly crazy, that he thought those words would somehow make her smile. He knew what his intentions had been, of course. He had wanted her to give him a quick smile, maybe kick his knee in protest.

  But to say that, after he’d seen how those trainers had looked at her?

  When she was that tired?

  It was a joke.

  Not a funny one either.

  And the worst part?

  He wasn’t even sure he could stop himself from doing it again. Talking to people was hard enough. Avoiding feeling stupid every time someone forgot he had freaking amnesia was hard enough.

  Trying not to stick his foot in his mouth?

  It felt impossible.

  Which was stupid, because it should be easy. Just don’t make risky jokes. Stop trying to make light of everything.

  It just wasn’t.

  Myst forced his eyes away from the notebook and onto the nearby clock. Two hours until they were supposed to meet for dinner. Just enough time to get some sleep.

  And he should get some sleep.

  He was tired.

  Hadn’t slept.

  Felt numb.

  But somehow, none of that signalled to his brain that he should be sleepy. No, instead, adrenaline still flooded his system, even almost an hour after getting back from—

  Myst paused.

  Then cringed.

  Another thing he hadn’t wanted to think about.

  His frankly disastrous attempt at a genuine apology.

  It wasn’t even that he thought the whole thing was bad. Or, well… it wasn’t like he thought most of it was bad.

  Honestly, considering his original plan had been completely wrecked, and his attempt to reorganize a second plan had been interrupted by the person he was trying to apologize to, it had gone shockingly well.

  Even then it should have gone a lot better, considering Cynthia had apparently walked over thinking she should be the one to apologize.

  With hindsight, he should have just stopped after the social antennas analogy. That was the last moment she’d looked fine with it. Every word after that had only made her look less happy, like his attempt to explain himself had somehow made her think he was trying to excuse himself.

  But at least that part had been genuine.

  It had been his actual feelings, no matter how embarrassing they were.

  The talk about putting her on a pedestal?

  That had been desperation.

  An everything-and-the-kitchen-sink kind of move, running down the list of every cliché, until he found something that made her stop looking so damn unhappy.

  Until something made her look like she would forgive him.

  Not that she wasn’t worthy of being put on a pedestal. She was all the things he said.

  Considerate and kind.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Smart, but willing to learn.

  Determined and unyielding.

  It was just—

  He had also seen her other sides.

  How she could pout endlessly when he couldn’t explain where his knowledge came from.

  How she could chase a Pokémon for an entire night, forgetting about everything else.

  How she’d refused to talk to him for hours just because he’d eaten her candy to regain energy, even though he had almost lost his arm.

  So to say he put her on a pedestal?

  It just wasn’t true.

  He might not know every side of Cynthia, yesterday had made that more than clear enough, but he knew more than he should.

  Life and death had a way of speedrunning friendships like that.

  It was almost funny though. If he really had seen her as some invincible, untouchable girl, this entire situation wouldn’t have happened. He wouldn’t have felt the need to cheer her up. He would have just assumed she didn’t need it.

  Myst paused, fingers brushing by the edge of the notebook.

  Though maybe it wasn’t completely wrong either.

  After all, she was everything he had.

  And wasn’t that the problem.

  With a groan, he pushed himself off the bed and walked over to the shared desk in the corner of the room. Silently, he laid down the notebook and glanced at the leftmost page. Half-scribbled jokes and references he knew he should know, but somehow didn’t, covered the page.

  His eyes drifted right, landing on the other open page.

  Cynthia greeted him.

  The lines along her chin were smudged from him having spent too much time trying to perfect it, only for the paper to start giving out. Her hair was better. He got it right more or less first try, done in quick and soft strokes. Her eyes had ended up a little too wide, giving her a softer look, more innocent than she really was. Still, it was recognizable.

  Her smile was the part he was most satisfied with, the way it curved, like she was trying not to laugh. A look he’d grown used to, one he could recognize in his sleep.

  It had taken hours. He’d started mostly because he had nothing better to do. He’d imagined maybe he could draw stick figures fighting or something, but when his pencil touched the paper, he felt it.

  That familiarity, like he’d done this before.

  So, when he started, he couldn’t stop.

  In the end, the drawing had turned out well, good enough that it couldn’t have been his first time.

  It didn’t matter.

  He remembered nothing.

  Tapping his pencil twice he let out a sigh.

  He should honestly get some sleep.

  He should.

  Really.

  He flipped the page.

  And tried to draw Rei’s furry face.

  ……

  The park was beautiful, even as the sun began to fall, casting the sky in hues of gold and lavender. It wasn’t often the park was this empty, but right after dinner was one of those rare times, doubly so considering it was technically still dinner time.

  Eating dinner early, the perks of waking up.

  Or just not sleeping.

  “You think every Pokémon has a different concept applied to their type energy, or is there like a range that is possible?” Cynthia asked, her voice light with curiosity.

  “Eh, no clue.” Myst mumbled, strangling another yawn.

  “But like, what if a Pokémon figured out their concept of Fire-typeing would be cold, because they live in magma, like a Macargo or something?” Cynthia continued, her thoughts racing ahead.

  Myst blinked sleepily, barely able to keep his eyes open as he rested back against the grass. The peaceful quiet of the park, combined with the exhaustion of the day, was starting to pull him under. But Cynthia's voice, full of curiosity, kept him tethered.

  Well, tethered was a strong word.

  Maybe delicately connected was more accurate.

  “Myst?” Cynthia’s voice snapped him back.

  “I mean, maybe? Like I guess you could have...” His words trailed off as his thoughts escaped him.

  For a second, he ended up staring blankly at the sky.

  It was apparently enough to tip her off.

  Cynthia glanced at him, frowning. “You did sleep right? I though you said you would go take a nap before dinner?”

  Myst forced himself off the comfortable grass and dragged himself into a sitting position. Laying down was too dangerous. It still took a force of will to focus back on Cynthia’s face, her grey eyes narrowing in suspicion.

  “I mean, what else would I have done in that room? It’s not exactly like there are a lot of things to do.” He tried.

  Cynthia pursed her lips.

  Myst gave her his best smile. It did not help. If anything, it seemed to make her even more suspicious.

  “No, I mean seriously, what could I have even been doing?”

  “You could have been, you know, thinking about…” Cynthia hesitated, glancing away for a moment, as if unsure how to finish her thought.

  Myst stared at her, his brow furrowing slightly, trying to figure out what she was hinting at.

  He drew up a blank.

  So instead he ended staring blankly into her back.

  And her hair.

  Huh.

  Usually, Cynthia wore her hair loose, letting it fall freely down her back. But since the last time he saw her, she had changed it up. Two small hair clips, black and yellow, held part of her hair back, framing her face with soft bang.

  It looked good.

  Pretty even.

  Myst blinked.

  Ah.

  "You look good with them. They suit you," he said, his voice a little softer than usual.

  They did, he thought, glancing at the yellow rings on the clips that matched her hair perfectly. He had chosen them thinking they'd suit her, but now that he was seeing them in action, they felt even more fitting.

  Cynthia's cheeks flushed instantly, her eyes widening as her hands shot up to her hair, like she wanted to hide them. She opened her mouth, glaring at him, but took a deep breath instead.

  “That was not what I was asking about,” she ground out, the tips of her ears turning bright red, looking almost like small flames.

  Myst blinked, momentarily stunned by her reaction.

  Then he tilted his head deliberately. "I mean, you always look good, but I appreciate that you liked my gift?"

  Cynthia raised a hand threateningly.

  He grinned slightly, and she shook her head, clearly exasperated. “Whatever. If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine. But seriously, you look dead.”

  “Well, I’m fine, you know that I don’t need much sleep anyway.” Myst waved her off, a half-hearted smile on his face.

  It was even true.

  Well, sort of.

  He had always been the type to operate on fumes, his body conditioned to push through exhaustion as though it were just another part of existence. Survival in the forest had taught him to shut out the fatigue, to keep moving even when every fiber of his being screamed for rest.

  But lately, it felt different.

  Maybe it was because his body had started to fill out, becoming less the lean, wiry form he was used to, and more something that actually required fuel. Or maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t running for his life anymore, that his survival wasn’t hinging on constantly being alert.

  Maybe it was just the fact he was living and not just surviving.

  He would have honestly thought that the latter should have taken less energy.

  Cynthia let out a sigh.

  “Myst, seriously.”

  Myst smiled slightly.

  “You think I look that broken? Where was all this concern when I was running through the forest?” he shot out instinctively.

  Then his own words registered.

  Ice shot through his body, jolting him awake.

  Shit.

  He opened his mouth to apologize, to explain, but before he could, Cynthia just rolled her eyes with a giggle, her shoulders shaking slightly.

  “Well, I for one, think it should tell you something about how you look that you seem more tired now.”

  He relaxed slightly.

  “I guess,” he muttered under his breath, glancing away, trying to calm his beating heart.

  A few seconds later he felt the need to sleep return, and instinctively his eyes began to flutter.

  “Let’s play a game.” Cynthia said suddenly.

  Myst felt his head fall slightly to the side as he glanced at her side profile.

  Cynthia looked like she hadn’t just said something wildly out of character.

  “Why?”

  She glanced at him, expression hidden behind a poker face.

  “Something to do? You don’t think I like to play games too?” She asked.

  Myst managed to raise an eyebrow, containing the numerous times she had denied playing, ‘What am I thinking about?’, while walking through the forest.

  She rolled her eyes, understanding him without a word. “That was different, distracting ourselves while walking through the forest could be dangerous.”

  “Riolu.” Myst answered simply.

  “Well—”

  “Rei.” Myst countered.

  Cynthia flushed again, snapping at him, “Well, do you want to play or what?”

  “I mean, of course, but what game?”

  She glared at him.

  He shrugged, he was curious, not his fault she suddenly seemed to want to play a game.

  “Twenty questions. Only honest answers, though you can pass.” Cynthia answered simply.

  Myst tilted his head.

  Not what he expected.

  And…

  For some reason, he felt like there should be a trap in her game, but he couldn’t quite spot it.

  Whatever.

  “I start then.” He stated.

  Cynthia nodded gracefully, like she didn’t mind at all.

  “Sure, go ahead, but we switch after every question, okay?”

  Myst nodded.

  Opened his mouth.

  Then paused.

  What did he even want to ask?

  Pursing his lips, Myst glanced at Cynthia, who was waiting for him to say something. For a few seconds, he just stared at her, unsure. Then the exhaustion crept in again. His eyelids fluttered, and before he could really think through his question, the words slipped out.

  “Why do people know you?”

  Cynthia raised an eyebrow, like she couldn’t believe that was his question.

  Myst blinked.

  Then his brain clicked into gear again.

  “You don’t need to answer of course, I—”

  Cynthia cut him off with a quick wave of her hand. “It’s fine if that’s what you want to know. Honestly, I was supposed to tell you anyway. The current champion is a grassroots trainer and well known to dislike people who aren’t,” she added air quotes, “self-made trainers.” She shrugged. “So, for a time, the image of trainers making it completely on their own, doing everything from scratch, has been the image of ‘real’ trainers.”

  She gave a bitter smile. “I can’t even say it’s bad, but because of it, a lot of trainers from backgrounds like mine get under a lot of scrutiny. Especially when we have rare Pokémon, people feel like we’re ruining the challenge for ‘normal’ people. As if just having a rare Pokémon means you automatically know how to train it well.”

  Cynthia let out a long breath, her eyes briefly flicking away before she continued, her tone hardening just a little. “Anyway, you’ve probably realized already, but there’s a ton of TV programs that cover the gym circuit. At the start of every season, they focus on up-and-comers, making a spectacle of them. I got featured in one of them after I swept Byron. The TV host used me as an example of someone who’s gotten ‘too much help,’ with my grandma being the previous head professor of the region. He felt I couldn’t have possibly beaten the gym without the resources she’s given me, even implying that she simply bought Gabite and Riolu pre-trained. That meant I shouldn’t even be talked about in the same breath as Flint or Volkner, trainers who did the same but came from ‘normal’ backgrounds.”

  She took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the sleeves of her jacket. “The clip became the most talked-about segment instantly. Every single TV channel featuring the gym challenge covered it. Every rag in the region had my face on their covers. How much help was too much? How to make things more ‘fair’? If I should’ve started fighting gym leader higher-level teams…”

  She paused, “Which isn’t a bad idea, and if somebody gave me that option, I probably would have taken it, but...”

  Her shoulders slumped slightly, finishing with a helpless shrug, as if to say, what can you do?

  “I—” Myst tried to think of something to say, but his thoughts were moving too slow to form a proper response. His brain refused to cooperate.

  So, he defaulted. “That sucks.”

  Cynthia shook her head lightly, her smile a little wry. “It’s whatever. Just something I have to deal with… Well, maybe you’ll have to deal with it too, since we’re traveling together now.” She added a teasing smile.

  Myst grinned slightly at her words. “Well, maybe I even draw their aggro. Considering Ralts and all.” He leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Then I hit them with the double combo of ‘I’m an orphan’ into ‘and an amnesiac.’ Boom, it’s quad effective.”

  Cynthia giggled slightly.

  “Well, as I said, it doesn’t matter that much, most trainers don’t really mind. Honestly, meeting those people were just unlucky.”

  Myst let out a low laugh, but a sharp twinge of guilt hit him in the chest.

  Yeah, never touching this again.

  “I guess it’s your turn then?” he said, forcing the words out to change the subject.

  Cynthia blinked, then a devious grin crept across her face. “Well, my question is…” She paused for dramatic effect, “how long did you sleep?”

  Myst blinked, caught off guard.

  Cynthia smiled wider.

  Myst raised a finger, attempting to buy himself time.

  Cynthia's grin only grew.

  Myst tilted the finger slightly forward, "I don’t like this question.”

  “Well?” she prompted, eyebrow arched, clearly waiting for an answer.

  Myst sighed heavily. “Two.”

  “Hours?” she asked, a little skeptical.

  “We can go with that,” he tried.

  “Seconds, then,” Cynthia retorted.

  He shrugged.

  Cynthia shot him a pointed look. “Seriously, Myst. You need to sleep, you look like you are about to kneel over. You can even get some sleep right now, I’ll wake you.”

  “Hey!” He put his hands up in mock surrender. “I can’t just fall asleep on the ground; it’s bad for my back.”

  She gave him a half-lidded stare, unimpressed.

  “You slept on the ground for half a year,” she countered coolly.

  Myst pursed his lips, his mind stalling for a moment at the comeback.

  Cynthia sighed, the edge of her smile softening. “Well, if you don’t want to sleep on the ground, then come here.”

  She patted her thighs absentmindedly.

  He opened his mouth, then he registered what she just suggested. For a second Myst just stared at her, his mind going blank as his eyes flickered down to the motion.

  Instantly, he felt his face burst into flames.

  Cynthia stared back at him, her own face slowly flushing a deep shade of pink. “Well… come on. You need to sleep,” she said stubbornly.

  Myst’s brain scrambled for a response, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words. None came, instead a huge yawn escaped him, and Cynthia narrowed her eyes, unimpressed.

  He attempted to wave her off, trying to protest, but she just huffed, clearly done. In one smooth motion, she grabbed him and, with surprising ease, maneuvered him into her lap, his half-hearted attempt at resisting utterly useless.

  “Sleep, seriously,” she said simply, her face still flushed.

  Myst's protests died on his lips. He shut his eyes tightly, hoping that his own ears weren’t burning red.

  How was he supposed to sleep like this?

  Above him, Cynthia let out a soft sigh, and her finger gently brushed through his hair. “Idiot…” she muttered under her breath.

  Myst didn’t hear it, his world was already darkness.