The Hacker [Pokemon Fanfiction]

The Hacker: Chapter 26

"Leaf..."

The voice was like an angel, the deep gentle words pulling at my mind to awaken.

"Hey, come on Sis."

"Mn," I grumbled, the sense of light bled in though my shut eyelids. "Five more minutes, Eos," A glazing scent filled my nostrils, like sweet batter being pressed by high heats.

A finger twirled a few strands of my hair carelessly, "Eos? The Greek Goddess or the Limp balm? You still dreaming there, Leaf?"

My ribs fell down with an exasperated breath and I sluggishly opened my eyes, only to be utterly flabbergasted by what laid at my wake. A beautiful boy with rippled coffee hair tousled about like he had just woken up. His eyes were an endless brown that flickered with an eternal blaze of life. He had a pair of peachy lips that blended perfectly into the rest of his spilt-milk skin, which pulled into a lopsided grin, "What's with that face?" he looked around the same age as me.

I was at a loss for words, not just at his face. Not just the soothing air in his voice. But at the gradient filtering of the complex shadows, which crossed his face, that tucked in at just the right crevices. The complex layering of each single strand of hair on his pretty little head. His eyes an almond shape instead of a large anime. My hand moved on its own to graze the side of the boy's face, feeling as if my senses were hyped up, yet not. "Real," I let slip with furrowed eyebrows. "You're real."

Playfully, the beautiful boy snapped up my wrist in his large palms. "No duh, Leafy." Though he snickered, receiving only harsh glares for a nickname which I had never heard before. But somewhere within me stirred, like maybe I had, "It's kinda hard for a twin brother to not be real." The drowning feeling washed over as my lips drew farther apart in shock.

I'm home. Aren't I?

The teenage boy shrugged with a devilish curl of his mouth, "Well, maybe this could all be a dream and I am just a creation of your subconscious." Upon seeing my dead serious expression, her broke out laughing with a light-hearted aura. "Geez, Leaf. Come on, breakfast is ready." This boy didn't wait for a response from me before grabbing me up from my bed, letting me smash into the polyester carpeting.

This is my room, I registered each furniture piece of layout. How my single box window of the cube room had drawn shades that failed to contain the light of day outside.

The boy, who claimed to be my twin, loomed above in wait, "Come on, mom made waffles. I don't want them to get cold!" he whined, ushering me on with his foot. Silently, I rose up and lucidly followed him though the house I have known for so long into the checkered kitchen.

My mother waited at the rounded oak table that the bright sunlight spilled onto from our patio door. She was already cutting her way through the grated cooked batter suffocated in maple syrup when she looked up to us with a detailed smile painted to fit her face, "Fire, Leaf. I thought you two would never come down! Grab a serving and join us."

I didn't respond, just swept up a porcelain white plate from the cupboard they always were in before shoveling on the breakfast which let up steam in tendrils that dispersed before reaching too high.

Opening the drawer that contained the silver utensils, I grabbed a cool fork and sat beside my mother at the table, "Us?"

As if the strangeness was never ending, a man sat not too far away. His hands holding a blue paperback novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald, "Don't tell me you have forgotten about your own father?" he laughed, drawing the book away from his face. A morning scruff grew around his jawline as his fine wrinkles of time crinkled at how he smiled from his cheeks. The man was like an older version of Fire, but his eyes filled with so much more wisdom.