The World Without Them || Original Pokémon Fanfiction ✓

Chapter One: Chilled

 "Frost! Frost Statice, wake up! If you don't you'll be late!"

 The boy in question gave no response, but instead buried himself even further under the covers of his bed. An annoyed sigh escaped his lips as he heard high heels clicking against the hardwood stairs leading to the second floor, and presumably his room. The footsteps stopped outside his door. Frost ignored the intruder as she marched in and ripped open the curtains, sunlight spilling into the enclosed space. He felt his sheets being dragged away, and he frowned once having rubbed his eyes free of lingering sleep.

 "I told you not to come in my room without permission," Frost grumbled indignantly.

 His mother rolled her dark blue eyes that matched his, obviously exasperated with her son's attitude already. A quick glance at the clock on his nightstand told him that it was seven thirty in the morning, much too early compared to what he would've preferred.

 "I told you to get up and you didn't, so I came in. You need to get a move on, Frost. School starts in twenty minutes."

 "Alright, fine. Just leave so I can get ready, okay?"

 She nodded curtly and made her way to the exit, her long blonde hair bouncing at her waist as she went. Only when Frost heard the distinct click of his door being shut did he start moving.  Rolling out of bed, he pulled on his school uniform that consisted of black slacks and a white polo shirt emblazoned with the stamp of his academy, a simple red gavel to symbolize justice.  The seventeen-year-old lazily ran a brush through his unruly light blue hair, knowing that he'd be told off by his mother if he didn't. Finally, Frost grabbed his backpack and departed from the comfort of his bedroom.

 He snuck down the stairs to the kitchen, hoping not to draw his parent's attention. Frost peeked out the window over the sink once having arrived at the ground floor and noticed that his father had already left for work since the driveway was vacant. This didn't surprise him in the slightest; his father always had a habit of waking up before everyone else in order to beat the city's traffic. 

 The boy picked up an apple from a bowl on the counter before heading to the front entrance of the house. He grabbed the door handle and yelled over his shoulder," I'm leaving!"

 His mom's reply came shortly after. "Alright! Have a great day!"

 "Sure," Frost muttered under his breath as he opened the door and left. 

 The morning rays of sunshine filtered through the leaves of trees that stood on the sidewalk, casting golden pools of light on the pavement. The city was already alive with activity despite the relatively early hour. People were out and about in their front yards and on the street. Kids played ball and ran around under the exhausted supervision of their parents while the elderly sat out on their patios with steaming cups of coffee. However, Frost tried not to pay attention to any of this and averted his gaze from that of his neighbors. He was not at all interested in observing or engaging in the lives of others when the option to mind his own business was there. So because of this he simply strolled onward, munching on his apple as he went.

 Frost lived in Silverkeep City, a large sector located at the base of a long mountain range called the Ironmist Chain. Silverkeep City was only one of the many inhabited areas in Inridia, the country himself and hundreds of thousands of others called home. The metropolis was a prime center for trade and commerce, coming second only to the nation's capitol city, Niska. Frost's house was placed in the busy suburbs a little ways away from the hustling downtown. In fact, if he were back at his residence, the teen would have been able to see skyscrapers from his window.

 Frost arrived at his school, Belen Academy, just as the first warning bell rang. He still had three minutes to get to his first lecture, so he took his time and ignored the underclassmen that frantically rushed past him to get to their classes before they were marked late. Being a third year, the boy couldn't bring himself to care much about his attendance record.