Pokémon One Shots

Chasing the Horizon - Brendan & May

The afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over Route 110, bathing the grassy plains and shimmering river below in light. Brendan tightened his grip on the handlebars of his bike, glancing sideways to catch a glimpse of May. Her brown hair billowed out behind her as she pedalled furiously to keep up, eyes locked ahead with fierce determination. She was a whirlwind of energy, the competitive spirit in her eyes glinting brighter than the sunlight.

"Come on, Brendan! Is that all you've got?" May's voice carried over the wind, filled with that teasing edge he knew all too well.

Brendan's smirk deepened, her words sparking his own competitive drive. "Oh, you're gonna regret that, May!" He leaned forward, forcing more power into each pedal stroke as the world around him blurred, his focus entirely on her and the race.

They had been racing ever since leaving Mauville City, hurtling through the winding paths with laughter and taunts exchanged back and forth. The thrill of competition between them was always electrifying, but today, something else was lingering beneath it - something that set Brendan's heart pounding even more than usual.

Finally, they reached the crest of a hill, the descent before them steep and thrilling. Brendan braked just in time, skidding to a halt and kicking up a cloud of dust. May rolled to a stop beside him, her breath coming in quick gasps as she leaned forward, hands on her knees, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.

"Pretty sure I won that one," she declared, straightening and crossing her arms, all too pleased with herself.

Brendan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in return. "You're dreaming. I was way ahead."

May scoffed, rolling her eyes with a playful smile as she poked his chest lightly. "In your dreams, maybe. I was practically flying out there!"

Her laughter was contagious, and Brendan couldn't help but join in. Their banter had always been like this - lighthearted, teasing, yet it held an undercurrent of something more, something unspoken that seemed to bubble up in moments like these. He felt it every time they were together, a warmth and nervousness that made his words catch in his throat whenever he thought about telling her how he truly felt.

A breeze ruffled the trees lining the route, and May's gaze drifted off to the horizon, her expression softening as she kicked a small pebble with her sneaker. "Hey, Brendan," she started, her voice gentler now, almost pensive. "Have you ever thought about what's next? You know, after the Pokémon League... after all this."

Brendan felt a sudden weight settle over them. He leaned against his bike, considering her question, feeling its significance. "I guess... I don't really know," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "I've been so focused on training, getting stronger, and winning battles. But... I've been thinking."

May glanced at him, a hint of curiosity flashing in her eyes. "Thinking about what?"

Brendan hesitated, a flutter of nerves stirring in his stomach. This was it; the opening he had been waiting for, the perfect chance to tell her how much she meant to him. He could feel his pulse quicken, and he struggled to keep his voice steady.

"About us. You and me," he said, his voice softer than before.

May blinked, surprise flashing in her expression. She tilted her head, studying him with that thoughtful gaze he loved so much. "What about us?"

He swallowed, trying to find the right words, feeling as if his heart was lodged in his throat. "I mean... do you think we'll always be doing this? Traveling together, battling, racing?" He laughed a little, attempting to ease the tension he felt building. "You know, like we always do."

Her gaze softened, and she smiled, a warm, tender expression that made his chest feel strangely tight. "I hope so. You're my best friend, Brendan. I can't imagine doing this without you."

The words filled him with warmth, but there was an ache there too, something bittersweet. Best friend. It hung in the air, a reminder of the boundary between them, and yet he wanted so much more. But as much as he wanted to say it, the words remained trapped, stuck just out of reach.

May stretched her arms overhead, her face aglow in the golden light. "Besides," she continued, a playful glint returning to her eyes, "who else would I beat in every race?"

Brendan let out an exaggerated scoff, nudging her shoulder. "Keep dreaming, May. Next time, I'll leave you in the dust."

"Oh, really?" she challenged, her eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous sparkle. "You talk big, but I seem to remember the last three races ending with me ahead."

Brendan raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing. "Alright, alright. I'll give you that one. But don't get too comfortable at the top, okay? I'm just getting started."

She laughed - a bright, joyful sound that made his heart skip a beat every single time. Hopping back onto her bike, she spun the pedals idly, her gaze meeting his in a way that made the whole world seem to fade around them.

"Tell you what," she said, her tone a little more serious but still playful. "Let's make a deal. If you beat me in the next race, I'll buy you dinner."

Brendan's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, now we're talking."

"But," she cut in, holding up a finger, "if I win, you have to help me train for the next Pokémon contest. Deal?"

He considered it, knowing how demanding her training sessions could be. But he loved the idea of spending more time with her, just the two of them, and before he knew it, he nodded. "Deal."

May grinned, her competitive fire reigniting. "Good. You better keep up this time, Brendan."

With that, she kicked off the ground, her laughter trailing behind her as she sped down the next stretch of Route 110. Brendan shook his head, grinning as he watched her go before hopping onto his bike to chase after her.

They rode together in companionable silence as the sun continued its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The beauty of the moment wasn't lost on him, but it was her presence that truly made it special. She was so close, yet he felt the weight of the words he had yet to say pressing down on him.

As they reached the top of another hill, May slowed, glancing over at him. Her cheeks were flushed from the ride, her eyes soft in the evening light. She bit her lip, looking as though she wanted to say something but was hesitating.

"Brendan," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I..."

The vulnerability in her voice, the way her gaze flickered uncertainly, set his heart racing. Without thinking, he reached out, taking her hand in his. The sudden touch surprised her, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she looked up at him, her breath catching.

"May," he said softly, the words finally finding their way out. "I don't just want to be your best friend. I... I want to be something more."

She blinked, surprise evident in her gaze. But then, slowly, her expression softened, a gentle smile spreading across her face as she tightened her hand around his.

"I was wondering when you'd finally say it," she murmured, her cheeks flushed but her voice steady.

Brendan's eyes widened. "You... you knew?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Maybe I just hoped. But... I feel the same way, Brendan."

Relief and joy surged through him, and without another word, he leaned closer, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss, the world around them blurring as everything else faded away. It was a moment of pure, unspoken promise - of races yet to be run, battles yet to be fought, and the certainty that whatever the future held, they would face it together.

As they finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, May nudged him playfully. "So, about that race... don't think I'll go easy on you just because you finally confessed."

Brendan laughed, feeling a newfound lightness in his chest. "Wouldn't expect anything less."

With one last, lingering look, they hopped back onto their bikes, and this time, as they raced side by side, it was no longer just a friendly competition. It was the beginning of something they both knew would last.