Breathe. No matter how stressful the situation. Just…breathe.
George floated in midair, flanked on both sides by his scalchops drifting alongside. Stones of various sizes encircled him, hovering a steady three metres from him. The Dewott kept his eyes closed; from the outside, he appeared to be in a trance.
But peace was not to last. The earth was struck with the force of a battering ram, dirt and rocks erupting like geysers from the ground as it cracked. George and his gathering of stones were shaken by soil raining down, staining fur and surface alike. He gritted his teeth, clenched his fist; some of the stones shook under the psychic pressure.
“Focus. You’re not out of the weeds.”
His ears flicked back. Four legs came rumbling towards him. He felt their growing presence, a pair of eyes going straight through him. Breathe in, and out. Then, he used telekinesis to raise himself and his circle further skywards, reaching the second story of a non-existent building. The legs sprinted underneath him, then crashed into a wall, shattering it to pieces.
A second explosion followed, followed by raining dirt. Violence struck all around; yet he kept breathing. Kept himself airbourne. Kept the stones and his Dewott self secure, against all odds. No Dewott was meant to last the onslaught - so Terrakion said.
Quake after quake, charge after charge, projectile after projectile, even the sword swiping past his fur; George remained.
“Annnnd…. Cut! Alright, that will be enough for today!”
The Dewott breathed a sigh of relief, letting the stones sink to the ground much as they would sink to the bottom of a lake. Next was himself; he reoriented until his feet were down, then slowly lowered himself back to what was ordinary. Floating with your mind wasn’t losing its surrealness anytime soon.
‘It’s like I’m in a movie. The way he says cut at the end doesn’t help. Is he really going to do that everytime…?’
The gruff sword trotted George’s way, a smile having replaced his glare. “That was fantastic, lad. You handle these lessons like a champ! Cobalion’s been worried about you making it, you know.”
George rolled his eyes. “What else is new? He’s been like that since we met.”
Terrakion scoffed, a puff of dust leaving his nostrils. “Don’t say that. You’re not on great terms, of course, but he wants you to succeed! Else he wouldn’t tutor you while he’s sick, no?”
The Dewott reared his head back. “Is that why he was breathing so heavily?”
“Mhm. Hypertension, the doctors said. His heart rate is too high. And that is just what happens in tense moments,” Terrakion grunted. “Listen. You have every right to be upset. With what you’ve been through? I’m surprised you haven’t snapped worse, quite frankly. But don’t confuse stars for moons. Give credit where it’s due.”
“Of course…” George sighed. ‘I’d rather not think about it, honestly.’ he thought, one fist behind his back. Standing in battle scarred terrain with the Pokemon responsible, while murky winds brushed his back, he couldn’t help but rock back and forth. More than enough occupied his plate, let alone fixing Cobalion’s views on top. As if you could fix what wasn’t whole to begin with.
“You’re going to have to work together more often, lad.”
“Yes… question. What did you say about me being a ‘champ’?”
Though the question was timid, Terrakion’s response was anything but. “Ah, come on now, boy! Do I need to put a mirror out for you?” he laughed, kicking the rocks George had lifted. “This is what, our third lesson together, and you’re stayin’ calm no matter what I'm throwing at ya! You’re unbelievably disciplined, lad. And that’s extremely important.”
George rolled his eyes. “You don’t even have to explain why.” ‘Life’ll smack you in the face with it sooner or later.’
The brown sword cleared his throat, then shuddered; for a second, it looked as if he were choking. “Take it from a brute like me. I enjoy nothing more than turning fights into pure chaos. You know why? Because then the enemy’s ideas are ruined! They’re panicking, I’m keeping on.” He shook his head. “We’ll have to flip through a history book some time. I can show you so many great battles, as well as diplomatic spats where this concept applies. It’s such a simple thing, yet it comes back time and time again. You’d do best to remember that for next time.”
“Mhm.” George nodded. “So we won’t be sparring, or anything physical?”
Terrakion grinned. “I wouldn’t count out the latter. Sparring, though? No need after today. We can skip a week, can’t we?”
The Dewott stuck his tongue into his cheeks, then held a hand over his heart. “We sure can.” ‘Oh, we sure can.’
Much to George’s relief, the lesson ended not long after that. He forced a smile to his face as he bid Terrakion farewell, only for that smile to disintegrate moments after. Tutoring isn’t supposed to make you feel like there’s an anchor tied to your feet, but that’s how George felt.
Maybe it was the dust. Maybe it was dealing with the Swords, and a lingering sense that he was the ball in a tennis match. Or perhaps experience had grabbed him by the wrist; the headmistress, his classmates and teachers, then the cult’s non stop mentoring and drilling. Whichever was guilty, George was glad to put his lessons behind him for the day.
‘I’d like something nice after all that…’ His stomach rumbled. ‘What about pancakes? Yeah…’
By a stroke of luck, George received a weekly allowance. Thirty Eracoins a week to spend as he pleased. Hein, Terez or Swords; whoever it was, George wanted to shake their hand. Or hoof.
He knew a small pancake restaurant in a settlement nearby. It was intended for farm labourers on paper. In practice, anyone with coins in their purse was welcome. And so George took a seat, right by a wall on which Unown runes had been painted. They were arranged in a fancy way, vaguely resembling cursive writing:
“GOOD MORNING”
Evidently, the Pokemon of Eravate knew how to write Unown. How fascinating. But mural scribblings of any kind were nothing compared to the power of pancakes. Sweet, fluffy, fresh out the pan. Add a knob of melted butter on the side, and a light drizzle of syrup on top. Add homemade whipped cream in a bowl, and what did you get?
A very happy Dewott chowing away.
“Mmm!”
By the time George walked out of that restaurant, he was some five coins poorer, had bits of syrup and pancake in his fur, and a smile on his face. He happily rubbed his belly on his way ‘home’ for a nap. Home was a little wooden hunt in the island’s green zone, all for himself. It was always peaceful there, provided no one came to interrupt.
His schedule was free for the rest of the day. Plenty of time to catch up on sleep, in George’s head. Unfortunately, upon reaching the lush, green trees on the western side, it turned out to be a daydream. A daydream that didn’t involve a roadside restaurant, and two dragons having a seat there.
“Why lookie here! If it isn’t my little friend, George!”
A few heads at the restaurant turned. Being commoners, they had no ‘special bond’ with George to speak of: As far as they were concerned, he was the Othersider, the one destined to repel the darkness from the world, like so many others before him. They certainly wouldn’t know of any Garchomp and Flygon getting themselves involved.
But good luck telling Hyran that. The Garchomp sat there staring at him with the cheekiest grin a Garchomp could muster, in a chair far too small: The backrest didn’t reach his fin, his arms were bigger than their rests, and his tail spilled out the side. Next to him was his boyfriend, who smirked all while sipping from a bowl through a straw. George clenched his teeth.
‘Oh, crap, here we go again.’
“C’mere! We’ve wanted to talk with ya again, remember?”
“...Why? Uh, I’m-”
Demidan suddenly raised his head. “Wait, how’s your timetable looking?”
George bit his lip. He wanted to lie and say he had another class, but that was amoral. Say one thing for George, say he didn’t want to become as wretched and miserable as most folks he met in his life. No. He wanted to be better than that.
“I uh… was headed home, actually. Wanted to catch up on some sleep.”
“Aww…” Hyran hummed. “Say, you could put that off for a short time, and we could talk. You never know when you’ll get another go! Not that we’re the jackpot, or somethin’! Hahaha!”
The two dragons damn near sank into each other's claws while guffawing away, Hyran especially relishing in the moment. George crossed his arms, his eyes pointing elsewhere, his ears flat against his head.
‘That’s not funny…’
Loud, obnoxious, and as buffoonish as the village idiot. George wondered how the other patrons felt, having to sit next to them. No one was going to walk up to a Garchomp and ask them to turn the volume down, after all.
After Hyran recovered from his laughing spree, he puffed out his chest. A chest a bit too defined. “Say, there’s a park behind town. Why don’t we finish up, and you head there already? It’s nice and quiet, perfect for little walks!”
“And flights!” Demidan said. “Though a bit small for my liking.”
Grinning, Hyran pointed at his boyfriend. “My thoughts exactly. Well, Othersider?”
George gulped. “Sure…”
“Then it’s a deal!”
And so did George’s journey home get derailed, just like that. A landshark and a dragonfly had been chewing on the tracks. So much for catching up on sleep. It didn’t take him long to pass through the community, which consisted of densely packed together homes for groundlings, with a significant presence of birds and darklings. Shady as some Pokemon looked, they all seemed friendly enough. They didn’t think high enough of themselves to forgo the hello’s and waves. The worst George experienced in town were two shadows passing over him. But that had a perfectly normal explanation.
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“Ha! Took you long enough!”
Despite leaving later, Hyran and Demidan had beaten him to the park, much to George’s chagrin. They had landed, and now posed in front of the entrance like mannequins. As if the park was a storefront - all that was missing was the world's blandest expression on their faces. Instead they had smug, ‘I just won Dodgeball’ grins to rub into his face. George just frowned in response.
“...Yeah, nice meeting you too.” ‘At least they’re good at keeping their teeth white, geez…’
“You know, I heard Dewotts can like… jet around with water!” Demidan mimicked waves with his claws. “Why don’t you try using that to get around?”
“I don’t want trouble,” George deadpanned. Demidan covered his mouth up, his beady pupils shrinking underneath those red goggles of his.
“Mhm! Fair enough! Fair enough, sometimes you just want to live life the easy way~”
Hyran kicked his legs around, hoping to shake the rust off. “If anything, we gotta live life slower. I mean, crap. Ain’t even a five minute walk to get here, yet we rushed anyway. ‘S kinda crazy, no?”
“Sure is, heheh…” Demidan giggled, albeit with an itchy throat.
“Could apply that to all of our life, y’know. ‘Cause I don’t wanna cut my time with you short.”
“Aww…”
So much for a quick talk. George got to stand there and watch as the two dragons smooched each other on the forehead. Then again, he didn’t mind so much. They were happy - happier than he was. If only he could float in the same boat. A cute boy or girl to spend the days with. That would make life just a little easier.
The park itself was pretty. Clearly, it had been lived in by Pokemon; some feral birds and bugs called it home. A handful of fruit trees and berry bushes had been planted, some in bloom, others harvested. Most curious for George was that it existed in the first place. Pokemon had a greater connection to nature than humans did, but would they organise it in the same way?
Why yes, they would. All sapient creatures liked their recreation in nature to be controlled, Hyran included. Half a minute into their walk, he growled out a tune. It sounded like a distant cousin of whistling to George’s ears.
“Ah… ‘tis a pretty day, isn’t it. How have you been, George?”
George breathed in deep. “I’m fine. Did my classes for the week, stayed out of trouble, kept my head on straight. The usual, really.” ‘At least he’s not calling me Othersider anymore.’
“Good! Good!” Hyran put his claws together. “Glad to hear you’re doin’ fine. Was worried for a sec when you first arrived. You didn’t seem happy.”
The Dewott rolled his eyes. ‘Gee, I wonder why.’
“Have you been able to keep your mind off things?” the Flygon on his other side asked, buzzing alongside. “I can’t imagine it’s easy, getting all of Eravate’s burdens on your shoulders. You don’t even have your buddy with you anymore.”
To that, George could only take a deep breath of forest air, and sigh it back out. “You could say that.” ‘Don't have to reopen old wounds, here....’
“How do you cope with it?” the Flygon asked, tilting his head. Curiously enough, a Hoothoot in the trees behind him had the same idea, before scattering away; whichever dragon caused it, they wouldn’t be the wiser.
“Cope with it?” George glanced ahead at the path, then up towards Hyran - or rather, towards his face and a too-large part of his chest - then back to Demidan. No one in the woods besides them and ferals. Dragons valued their privacy when making friends… or whatever their intentions were with him. As far as George was concerned, the jury was still out on that.
“Yeah, that’s the neat thing. I don’t. I just put up with it because I have to. What other options do I have, jumping in the sea? Go back to Luminity and say ‘oh yes, Artanouk, please do whatever you want with me. I trust you’? Find a way back to being human? Please. I’m done being thrown around like a volleyball.”
Demidan pressed his teeth into his chops, his antennae twitching. “Iiii can understand that. Well, I mean, I haven’t ever experienced anything quite like it myself, I always found… some solace even when my parents treated me like filth. Toys, friends, eventually Hyran, y’know…”
George clutched his own arm. “Glad you had an easier time, at least… wish I could say the same myself,” he half-mumbled. ‘I also wish I had a magic wand to wave around. That would solve all my problems like nothing. Wouldn’t that be nice?’
Hyran then cleared his throat, scraping a talon past his neck. “Just curious: How long have you been holding this in, for?” he asked.
“Hold what in?” said George with a raised eye.
“Your frustrations.”
The Garchomp watching with a casual smirk on his face, George gritted his teeth. “Well, you saw me cuss Cobalion out. Cobal, Blue Sword, whatever the hell he wants to be called. Does that answer your question?”
Hyran scoffed. “Sort of. Reminds me of the times when I yelled at my mom. Was also young. Dumb as bricks, admittedly. I should've known that wasn’t gonna end well, and sure enough, she gave me a whoopin’ right after. You sort of resemble that, except… with just a bit more guts to it. A little more oomph, y’know what I mean?”
George folded his arms. “No.”
“Well, it’s one thing to disrespect your parents,” Demidan chuckled. “Yelling at a mythical being, though? Man, like half the Pokemon in the world would rather die than do that if you dared ‘em!”
The wind blew through the trees, scattering leaves before George’s feet. He stared ahead of himself; ahead was a bend in the road, neatly flanked by a wooden fence.
“Yeah.” One of George’s ears - the one facing Demidan - went flat against his head. ‘Like most people would cuss out their boss. That’s how they get you…’
The Garchomp laughed, happily smacking his partner on the back. “Gotta love that. Yeah. Doesn’t give a damn. Really got that rebel spirit in you, huh?”
The Dewott threw his hands up in a shrug, a blue glow passing through his eyes; the leaves over the path were whipped aside by a psychic force. “Rebel spirit, childishness, being a dumbass. Call it whatever you want. It’s all the same. I’m not going to let someone walk all over me and expect a thank you. Not anymore. Do you have any idea how often I’ve run into that?”
“Mhm,” the Garchomp growled, sticking his tongue half out his mouth with his teeth bared; one eye glanced at something in the corner of his vision. “Think you mentioned somethin’ about a fosters’ home, once? At least, that’s how the rumours ‘round the island go. You’re the talk of town, so that spreads fast as hell.”
George raised an eye. “Talk of town?” ‘Do these people seriously have nothing better to talk about? He grimaced. ‘Othersider garbage…’
“Yeah, you’re real famous. Ever heard of the Othersider?” Demidan joked. That was a joke only a dragon could laugh about. George felt burning hot inside. Teeth clamping down would’ve been less painful.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” George growled. “Long story short, I got bullied like crazy, had teachers that treated me like a clown, had no home or parents, just a headmistress that bossed and kicked me around like I was her personal property. Then I magically end up in Eravate, it goes okay for a while, then I get hunted down by monsters that could kill me, have monsters that actually want to kill me recruit me into a cult, get played like a fiddle, and BOOM.” He kicked a rock away, keeping his saliva behind gritted teeth; the urge to spit at it was too basic and tempting to fall for. “Now we’re here. There you go. That’s my life. And do you know why I don’t care when Cobalion gets pissy at me? Or some bastard starts talking to me in my dreams?”
“The Renegade, yes…” Hyran grumbled. “Go on.”
George stared down at his feet. “Doesn’t matter how strong you are. How great your ‘power’ is, how much authority you have. Doesn’t matter how much you think you’re the boss. Cobalion, my old headmistress, or even Artanouk. They’re all the same. They all see themselves as the boss, and me as the dumb little kid that’s supposed to follow orders. And I’m not going to just follow orders, just because I’m supposed to. I like having dignity.”
The two dragons were silent for a moment, letting the wind do the speaking for them. Someone shouted in the distance, and a feral Spinarak skittered away, before Hyran breathed out in relief.
“Phew… quite the attitude. And y’know what? You’re one hundred percent right. Who’d take all of that lying down?”
“Weeelll…” Demidan hummed. “He could’ve asked nicely.”
George turned to the Flygon and put his foot down. “No. I’ve tried that before. Doesn’t work. Force is what counts. Don’t believe me? Look at who’s ruling Eravate these days.”
The Flygon gulped. “Uh… can’t say I agree with you, there. That sounds like a dark Buneary hole you’re about to jump down… very might-makes-right esque. It’s how ferals live.”
The Dewott shook his head. “Look around you. We’re not far behind.”
For a moment, Demidan’s eyes appeared to sink into their sockets, his flapping erratic and jittery. He looked as if he wanted to rebuke George, but the answers had fallen off like loose scales. If they existed to begin with.
“That…”
“‘Xcuse me?”
Hyran ran in front of them all of a sudden, then got onto a knee - he still had more than head and shoulders over George, yet had the appearance of someone on the low ground. Humbled, one could say, crouching onto the gravel trail.
“Leeet’s not dig too deep into this, y’know? Don’t think either of us want the day to get too stressful. We need more good times!”
“Mhm!” Demidan shook his head up and down like his life depended on it, while George’s reaction was far more muted.
“...Okay.” ‘Did I strike a nerve?’
Politics and philosophy influenced day to day thinking, no matter how you swung it. Sure, it can be suppressed, but never forgotten. It can be ignored, yet it’ll haunt you. Reach an old enough age, and you’ll start to think about it anyway. It takes one hell of a dam to stop a river - even then, the pressure had to be released eventually.
Whatever Hyran and Demidan truly believed, George didn’t know. In all likelihood, they didn’t enjoy talking about it: Most of the conversation from here on out was about the bright side of life. Day to day activities, hobbies, favourite foods: the latter topic made George discover even more room for pancakes in his belly. He had missed it earlier.
Nevertheless, politics kept the back of his mind busy. Did Hyran and Demidan get confronted by something they didn’t want to? Or did George have awful thoughts about the topic? ‘Might makes right’ sounded awful, even if George believed it held some truth. The strongest shouldn’t automatically be in charge.
Alas, a shadow had been cast on Eravate, and George was but one of many in the shade. All hope of better had gone out the window in Luminity that day. Including…
“So, George… question.”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve seen me and Demidan, right?” the Garchomp asked. “Two men in love. How does that make you feel?”
The Dewott’s ears went flat against his head. “...Why do you ask? I don’t have an issue with it, honestly…” ‘Why would I? Isn’t it… normal? Wesley bullied me over it, and he’s not normal, so…’
“Well, some do,” Demidan continued. “My father’s one of them. And I don’t want anyone else dealing with that kind of intolerance, if I can help it.”
George clenched one fist, then stuck it into his open palm. ‘You said that last time, didn’t you?’ “I’m not one of those people, for starters. After what I just said about not wanting to be bossed around, why would this be any different? It’s not like we’re hurting anybody.”
“Mhm.”
“And besides. I’ve spilled the beans already. About my…crush.”
For a ‘fun conversation’, George struggled to get the pit out of his stomach. Couldn’t have been because of any threat; the forest was thin enough to stab any would-be-assassin in the back, feral or otherwise. Any invasion would’ve prompted a symphony of trumpets to roar over the island. Knowing what mythical forces governed this world, it wasn’t difficult to imagine other security at play.
Was it really that difficult to talk about crushes to people?
“Ah, yes… your best friend, right?” Hyran clicked his tongue in a goofy way. “That’s quite the admission to make, y’know? How comfortable are you with that?”
“Not very?” George replied, one arm over his chest. “This… I was keeping this a secret until I met you guys, right? Don’t know how in the world I felt comfortable enough telling it to you guys in the first place, no offence. We never met. You’re both like three times my size.” ‘And not as messed in the head.’
He got an elbow in his side. “Close to two and a half,” Demidan half-whistled. “But point taken. It uh… actually makes perfect sense, when you think about it.”
“How?” George asked, much to Demidan’s amusement.
“Well, how many fellow gays have you met before?”
“...None.”
“And there you have it.”
Hyran gave his arms a good stretch, a moan-like growl rolling off his tongue as he shook the rust off. “Ah… see, it’s just as we said. You never know how others will react to you being attracted to the same gender, George.”
The Dewott fidgeted with his fur. “That’s true.” ‘Why, though? What’s the problem…?’
“You don’t know how your friend would react. Or anyone else. They might accept it. Might not. Might try and beat you up, even.” He spat beside him. “Us, though? Always down to help another out.”
George took a deep breath. “I guess so. But look. I barely even know what I am, or what I want out of life, really…” He shook his head. “It’s frustrating. Even these feelings in my stomach, they’re- what are they? Why do I look at Blitzer and think, ‘yeah, I wish he was holding me in his arms’? I don’t get it. I know we’re friends, but-”
A warm, blue talon pressed against his chest. The Dewott gasped, only to see Hyran on an even level.
“So?”
George blinked at him. “‘So’ what? Isn’t it normal for friends to have some feelings for-”
“Nuh-uh.” The Flygon beside them nuzzled up to his ear. “Friends don’t light up the second they see each other. It doesn’t get passionate between friends. You see each other, and it’s cool. It’s fun. Good times await. But when you see a boy or girl, and you’re so deeply invested in ‘em that you want to touch them? That’s something powerful.”
“O-okay,” the Dewott replied, gritting his teeth. Their story had something powerful in it as well, something that spoke to the soul. Demidan’s whispers entered George’s ears like a melody, the kind he hadn’t heard in ages. And in spite of time, he recognised it. Held it close.
“What is it?”
“That, my friend, is the heart speakin’. And the heart wants what the heart wants. You can’t deny it forever, y’know.”
“I’m not denying it!” he spewed out, his breathing ragged.” I just… need time to think! To think about it!”
“It’s difficult, yes,” the Garchomp continued. “Especially now that there’s so much between you two. And even when you do see him again, it might not be mutual. But be honest with yourself. You love him, don’t you?”
“That, I-”
George caught himself. Those three words had all the clichés in the world attached to them. Every book he had to read for school seemed to have them. Walking by a tv playing a movie, or a room with some show on the tv you were bound to catch wind of them. Didn’t matter what was playing, or what story the characters were being put through, those words were universal.
And what were the words about, really? Shared trust? A shared kiss? Frolicking through the fields without a care in the world, all while the sun shined? Sitting next to each other on the same tree stump? Spending free time together? Going through the same hardships as each other, trusting each other, finding the joy and prettiness in each other in spite of their differences? How compatible were a Dewott and a Charmeleon? Biologically nothing alike. Maybe one even preyed on the other in the wild.
But they weren’t wild. They shared meals together, played around together, fought together, often fell asleep in the same room, and were irreplaceable in each other’s lives. Blitzer was irreplaceable.
He wasn’t here.
Didn’t matter where he was now. He just. Wasn’t here. With him.
“Yes, I…”
Tears rolled out of George’s eyes, as his face turned ugly.
“I love him…!!”
His vision went blurry, and so did his mind. He felt claws all over his body, holding onto him. A few odd whispers of “It’ll be alright”, and “you will see each other again”. But the answers to both of those questions were lost to the dark, much like Blitzer himself was. And George, well…
Who was he without him, besides a lost child crying?