Pokémon Obsidian | An Orre Fanfiction

Chapter 28: True Friend

Aiko had no idea where Whitby lived. The only relevant address she could think of was Justy's. He was bewildered, but always willing to take his grandson in. He took Cassia and her Gym Trainers, too. Aiko offered to drive Yan back to the lab. He insisted on checking in to a motel, but she insisted there was no need to waste money. He could sleep on her couch.

'One moment,' she said as she manoeuvred to park the bulky Team Magma bus on the street outside her block, hoping police wouldn't tow it away, 'I have to, uh – my door is faulty.'

'Can I help?'

'It's fine!'

Aiko ran off, slamming the main door shut as soon as she was inside, before Yan could follow. Her door wasn't faulty, of course. If it was, she could have repaired it herself. She had to destroy all traces of the 'stalker wall,' as Wisteria called it, before she could even consider letting Yan in.

There were unwashed dishes and clothes everywhere. Aiko shoved the dishes in the oven. Where could the laundry go? The washing machine was full. She couldn't hide it in the bathroom. Yan would see it. She stuffed some in the microwave. The photos she tore down slid in there, too. The rest of the laundry was crammed into every gap in a sticker-covered suitcase that was already full of things she never unpacked from her last trip to Hoenn.

Yan waited patiently with the drums and boxes of leftovers. He didn't mind. At least he could smoke outside. Aiko wondered, as she passed her softest fluffy blankets to Yan, if her parents were still dancing in that dingy bar turned starlit space. She felt suddenly lonely.

'Can I ask a favour of you, L... Yan?'

'Of course.'

'Would you... dance with me? To one more song?'

'I would love to.'

Her Pokémon grumbled when she kicked aside their baskets to clear the floor. Swampert trudged to the bathroom to sleep in the shower. Houndoom curled up with Yan's Fire-type Pokémon.

Aiko's P★DA was dead. She was too tired to rummage through her CDs to switch the radio on, so she sang one of her own songs instead. She thought finally singing to the person her songs were about would be euphoric, but she wasn't really thinking of Yan. She thought of Courtney's out-of-tune lullabies; their singing lessons with Alfie and Chalcedony and of waking up in the middle of the night, to find toys brushed aside for her parents to dance around the living room, the muted TV's glow outlining their silhouettes. If Aiko ever struggled to sleep through nightmares, Courtney danced with her until she fell asleep again in her arms. She thought of sitting on an amp at a dive bar in Wyndon, watching her grandpa's band with wide eyes and turning to tell her mom that one day, that would be her. Courtney promised she would attend every show and she did.

Those nostalgic thoughts were exactly what dropped her back in the present. She thought then that she was imagining it, but the next day, when she found out her mom passed away only moments prior, she had no doubt she really could hear her voice; tinged with mischief and free of her eccentric pauses, as it always was when her kids needed her most.

What are you waiting for? How can you get this far and even consider letting me get in your way? Get in there!

So Aiko stood on tiptoe. She grabbed Yan and kissed him. It didn't matter if he wasn't interested. He was too polite to make things awkward and Courtney would cackle, wherever she was, knowing that her daughter got at least one little step closer than she did to Maxie... but if Courtney had acted as impulsively as Aiko did then, she would have received an equally passionate response.

Maxie wouldn't have smelled of cigarettes. It might never have gone further than a kiss, either, because a kiss couldn't destroy years of uncertainty... but what did Aiko and Yan have to be uncertain about? Everyone was dying. For all they knew, they would be killed in their sleep before the sun rose. Aiko pulled his coat off. Then she tossed aside her own shirt.

'Aiko, of course I think you're wonderful, but... you're grieving. I'm a fusty old man. I may not seem so appealing in the morning.'

'Dude, my mom – and Maxie – will whoop our asses if we just throw away the chance to finish what they started. And you don't think I'm singing about Whitby, do you?'

'...What?'

'Yes! I've been singing about you! Ever since we met at the Pokémon Center in Lavaridge Town! So shut up.'

Aiko found it utterly tedious when boys her own age were clueless. She was gone long before their alarms rang. There was, however, a thrill in teaching an older man how intimacy worked. At the same time, she felt more like the infatuated teenager learning to love, that she dreamed of being with those boys who bored her, than she ever did in her teens.

She had no idea how much she truly needed that distraction then. The memory of that night was so precious to her because as enchanting as it was, nothing changed the next morning; when she no longer needed intimacy but a shoulder to cry on. She knew she had something far more special than a lover, a true friend, in the man she idolised for so long. That was why Courtney still cared for Maxie until she died. They both would have been proud that their descendants found the same.