Hallow: PKMN ONESHOT

Don't tell me what to believe
Cause you won't be there
To catch me when I fall
-3 Doors Down

In the span of time that it takes a flash of lightning to dominate a dark sky, Ash changed. Milliseconds. Less than milliseconds. The passing away of a single thought.

It was like suddenly waking up. Waking up to a wash of ice cold water rinsing out his insides. Everything reformed itself around his breath that hung visible in the frosted air. He had dropped the cellophane wrapped roses into the dirty slush at his feet. The sharp ridge of the chocolate box had cut into his hands from clutching it too tightly. And he was trembling.

His first thought was a simple question. How can I fix this?

His mind raced with excuses. Each one removing him further from the picture than the last. Could he deny his feelings for her? No. Could he pretend like this hadn't happened? No. He already told everyone that today was the day. Valentine's day. He'd tell her how he felt today.

He did everything short but stand up on his desk and shout it to his entire class. He passed a note to Richie. Jokingly bragged to Brock over the vid-phone the night before. And written a letter to Misty. Richie and Brock had both congratulated him, admired him. Misty never wrote back.

He had been so proud. So sure. She had even seemed to respond his advances positively. He was less sure now. So much less sure about anything for that matter. He felt as if the world had just given way at his feet.

He had told everyone except for Gary. He had hoped they'd tell Gary together, his hand holding hers- blushing, and smiling shyly. He could see how childish the thought was now.

She was so much older than him. Too much older. In fact, now it felt as if decades separated them. Thick impenetrable walls. And oceans. Deep vast oceans.

But physically, only Dirk and a few patches of snow stood in the way. He thought he could cross them once. Thoughts he had had only a few minutes ago.

But now, May was pressed against the wall. Dirk was upon her, leaning into her deep kisses. Her button down shirt was ripped open. When she moved forward to kiss Dirk's neck, Ash could see her laced pale pink bra. Her hands were in his shirt. And his were inching down the small of her back. They weren't speaking, but he could hear their breath, hot, as if beating down on his own skin.

He was so stupid.

Ash stepped back, shifting his weight to catch himself. His sneakers scraped against the sidewalk. Dirk looked up, his lips still pressed against the bare skin of her exposed shoulder.

He must have looked strange. A pale awkward looking boy in a dark red sweater and slacks crushing a box of chocolate to his chest and stepping all over a beaten up bouquet at his feet. Ash briefly hoped he hadn't been crying. His face felt frozen though he hadn't noticed the light snow falling around them before.

May was looking away from Ash and hadn't noticed him yet. At Dirk's hesitation, she let out a moan and moved to bite his neck. She might not have ever seen him. Later he wondered if he could have left it at that. To have exited quietly, without causing a scene, without destroying whatever he might have meant to May.

But Ash couldn't live anonymously. He couldn't bow out, wishing the two of them well. He was still selfish. Still hoping that maybe, if she saw him, what he witnessed could be explained away. That she might make everything right again.

That she could still love him.

If she ever did at all.

"I'm..." He started, choking up on his own words. His voice sounded so small, so foreign to his own ears.

The couple hadn't quite broken apart. For a long hard moment, May only stared at him. Her frayed appearance, crippled by breathlessness caused from the string of unbroken kisses, was not the image he had painted of her. She was still beautiful, yes. She still made his heart race.

But she hadn't ever kissed him like she kissed Dirk. Her kisses were always so neat, so shy, so clean. She had kissed him three times. Once on the cheek. Twice on the forehead. They were brief and polite. Ash had invented a different person on those kisses. A timid and bashful woman, who found his awkwardness around her endearing.

The May he was looking at now was aggressive, seductive and a complete and utter stranger. She had grabbed at Dirk with a particular demanding that she had never shown him. She wanted him, passionately and intimately.

He appeared before her as an intruder. It might have only been for a second, but anger flashed in her eyes. The look stabbed his own resolve. No matter that her look instantly softened. That she quickly tried to cover herself up. That she looked so sad, so sorry.

He was still lost to that moment of anger. The moment where she didn't see him as anything more than an interruption. The moment where he felt naked in her eyes.

His eyes stung. The blood pounding in his ears drowned out whatever explanation May tried to provide. He started to realize that he couldn't forgive her. It may have been his own fault. In fact, it was his fault. It was his own feelings that had lead him on. She had done nothing but kill him with kindness. And yet he couldn't forgive her.

He couldn't even look at her anymore.

His closing thought was both painful and compliant. How can I live with this?

Ash knew he couldn't. Not with her anyway.

"I'm... I'm sorry."

Ash didn't think he could say two words so completely conflicting with how he felt. He wanted to rip them apart. She was still holding Dirk, even now! Wasn't kissing him enough? Did she have to still have to cling to him? She couldn't possibly feel as unsteady as he did- standing exposed in the white snow, on display for the happy couple.

He thought about punching Dirk.

He thought about ripping open the chocolates and throwing them at the two. Or just chucking the entire box at them.

He even considered yelling, as fruitless as the task seemed. Compressing all his frustrations into a scream. Emotions that would go away if he could just open his mouth.  

But instead, he ran away. Away from Gary Oak's backyard. He nearly fell, tripping all over himself trying to escape from reality that he had unearthed from beneath the fallen snow.

Reality was the bitter wind that scratched the tears from his face. Reality was the air that scraped out his throat and lungs. He was in reality- surrounded by it, having been catapulted from his dreams, and made aware of its authenticity. It was an ugly and vulgar thing.

He wasn't standing on the front porch sharing a warm kiss with a girl he had loved since he was old enough to understand it. He was cold. His feet were wet, having gotten snow into his sneakers. His nose was running. His eyes were burning. His chest was heaving, having difficultly processing the cold air that stabbed at his lungs or processing the wrenching sobs that were threatening to tear himself apart... or both.

God, he hated himself.

He finally did fall, a considerable distance from the Oak's property. His left foot slipped off the paved path- ankle sharply twisting beneath him and bringing him down to one knee. He pushed himself up again, reluctantly.

A quick glance behind, assured Ash that neither Dirk nor May had tried to catch up. But when he looked forward, Ash felt the pit in his stomach give way.

Just ahead was the small one man bridge that marked the Oak and Ketchum property divide. He and Gary had played around and underneath it as kids. In the February snow it looked distant and uninviting. Even more so now as it was occupied by a familiar red head.

Misty was wearing a jacket that was too big on her, probably a hand-me-down trench coat from one of her more voluminous sisters. It looked like she was drowning inside it. She wore large boots and fuzzy mittens that looked like they might have been borrowed from his mother.

Her hair was down. It was longer than Ash thought it was.

Misty made a motion to run to him when he fell. But something held her back. She looked like she was still holding herself back as he reluctantly limped forward- the only way back to his house.

"Ash," she breathed. "I got your letter and I... I thought that you... that you might..."

Then she really looked at him. At his attempt at a dress outfit, now covered in dirt and muck. At his red rimmed eyes and tear streaked cheeks. At the rumpled box of chocolates clutched to his chest. And he silently begged her not to ask him if he were okay.

Ash stopped, suddenly fully aware of the box of chocolates he still held. He stared at it, and then angrily tore at its wrapping. He struggled with it for a moment, too frustrated to bother finding the seams in the plastic wrapping. Until ultimately, he threw it to the ground and stomped on it a few good times.

"God damn thing won't... open! Dammit!"

His stomping grew weaker, until he was only piteously pounding on it to keep from succumbing to his tears. He covered his face in his hands, a vain attempt to keep himself at bay.

"I just... I just want... want it to open," He said into his hands. "Just some... chocolate, dammit. God dammit. Why can't... anything... Why can't I do anything?"

Misty caught him before he collapsed to his knees. She held him tight and let him cry. A comforting silence hung between them, punctuated by Ash's stifled curses to himself.

"Sorry," she said, when it seemed his sobs had tapered off.

Ash closed his eyes.

And after a moment, he said, "Yeah. I know."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The End.
Please Read and Review!

I'll be honest and say I've never written anything like this before. I'm afraid it might be a bit too melodramatic, and it probably is. I mean, love can be rather melodramatic, can't it? Love can be a selfish and violent and quite frankly ugly when you're trapped in the throws of passion, right?

I have no idea actually. I've never been in love.

I hope I got the emotion right.

And I also hope the title worked as well. But I'm not sure I'm using the word hallow right, where I mean that Ash idealized, even worshiped an idea of May- that wasn't May at all.

Anyway, I really just hope people enjoy the one-shot.