Wimp Out

Guzma and Wimpod

"Evil isn't born, it's made"

-Rumpelstilstkin

Small tears dropped onto ground. Why was he like this? Pain, more tears. Everywhere hurted. Did he really deserve this? Teenager shut his eyes tighter, and as always, he just took it. He could only hope nothing broke. Old man would be angry, doctors would ask things. Old man would be even angrier.

He heard the club to break. You did it again, didn't you? Boy tried to peek at his vodka-reeking father, only receiving a furious glare. What is...

"What?" he heard. Boy hid his head under his arms, scared. No, please, don't do it again. Please. He curled into fetal position. His high pitched breathing didn't stop even if he tried to and tears fell even faster. But father didn't hit or shout anymore, he only stood and stared. It felt more horrifying than it should've. He wished it would stop.

"Go to sleep, kid", he could hear. Boy glanced behind his arms and when saw his father fell on sofa, he went into his room as fast as he could. Everything still hurted, silent tears were here to prove about that. He was too weak. Worthless.

Guzma hadn't moved out of his bed for hours before he dared to try. He took a look on clock; 2 AM. His father was usually in deep sleep already. Thankfully he was also extremely good sleeper - it'd probably take a full-grown exploud to wake him up.

When he finally got up, carefully and trying not to hurt himself more, he limped to his door and peeked outside. Boy instantly went to front door as he took loud snoring as a green sign. Door was opened with quiet groan, and the hurt boy sprinted outside. Ground felt cold under his bare feet. Guzma couldn't care a less about few sharp rocks that he ran over. They left few nasty scrathes on bottom of his feet. Yes, it did hurt, but it wasn't anything new for him - he only thought about getting away for few hours. Few f'hours of true freedom.

A cool breeze of headwind greeted him at beach which unsurprisingly was empty. During daytime people could be seen swinning in warm water, some were playing with their pokemon and some... Wanted to sunbathe. Mostly tourists but few natives as well, they were always so white. Guzma tilted his head as he glanced over his arms. Their lightness only made Guzma think, where he was really from? His old man couldn't obviously be from Alola... Teenager fell into his thoughts about his roots, thinking how his life would be, if he wasn't born in Alola. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even have born. Itäd be better in all honesty.

He wasn't needed anyways.

He sat near water and dunked his scrathed and dirty feet in the transparent liquid. It felt really nice, even if it did hurt a bit.

A heavy sigh escaped his mouth and boy held his knees, still sitting on dry sand. Few wingulls flew over, unconcerned about his presence. Maybe they've already gotten used to him like that large pelipper, who was observing him, too. After all, he had spent many of his nights here when he couldn't sleep. Large shadows under his both eyes were enough to prove that.

It started again.

A small tear turned into pouring waterfall as he hiccupped silently. Guzma's back was still hurting from golf club and he wouldn't be surprised if he found large, purplish bruises all over his body next morning. He hadn't even recovered from last ones.

Boy kept trying to dry his wet cheeks, without any results. He shook his head slightly, only then noticing a creature that was a size of Kukui's rockruff. Still trying to clean his tears off, he observed the bug pokemon quietly. Maybe he moved too much as it suddenly ran away - and left Guzma alone, again. Yeah, nobody wanted him..-

Then he noticed its yellow eyes staring at him. It looked as pathetic as he did, hiding behind silvery trash can. Wimpods were cowards of pokemon world, but here it still was; slowly starting to approach Guzma again. It instantly stopped moving when Guzma moved his hand into his pocket, slowly drawing out a piece of candy he had. He didn't like it anyways, so why not try?

Time felt like it went slowlier, but he was rewarded with a tiny step forwards. Wimpod started to make its way out for the candy, cautious about teenager which held it. What it was thinking? It was probably scared as hell. Only now Guzma had noticed how dirty it was and it had scratches all over its plating. Why did it had its other eye barely open? It really looks as pitiful as Guzma. Was it beaten up by other pokemon? Or a trainer? Guzma was so lost into his thoughts that he didn't notice how bug already was nudging his hand, hoping to get the unhealthy treat. Boy helped it by lowering his hand.

Wimpod eyed him.

Guzma stared down.

Wimpod took candy. It also carefully nudged his arm, like trying to make sure that he wasn't going to... hit it, or anything. He cringed at thought.

Then it did it again. This time bug came closer and tried to get on his lap and only now Guzma realized what the fuck was happening.

There was this freaking pokemon-

A pokemon-

And it stared up him with large eyes. It wasn't running away anymore even if he moved a bit. It wasn't scared of him anymore. It nestled against Guzma's stomach who tried to wipe tears off his face. He hadn't stopped crying but because of distraction it had gotten easier to breathe.

"Hey", he tried to sound calm. In reality his voice was hoarse from crying. Wimpod glanced at him with its sad, curious eyes and he could've swore it had tried to tilt its head. Guzma took a deep breath: "Ya wanna... Stay with me?"

Wimpod had gone inside Guzma's shirt for warmth when he was ready to leave. Sun was starting to rise which meant it was nearly morning - and another sleepless night would come to end. Everywhere ached; his back, legs, arms and head. Small pokemon under his shirt peeked at its new friend and made cute chirping sounds. It obviously had something wrong with its other eye but what he could do? Nothing. A walk back to Pokecenter was too long now.

"You gotta hide under my bed", he suddenly said, "Never leave there."

He received really confused look. Guzma made eye contact with it and stated that it could be killed if his father saw it. Boy didn't want his new and only friend to become a... bug pancake. The thought made him disgusted but it wasn't first time old man had messed up with his pokemon. His last, entire team had been taken from him. All of them. And who the fuck knows where he dumped everyone? Guzma wasn't worth them, that's what he said. Maybe old man is right; he's nothing, can do nothing and will do nothing right. But he didn't want to give up on this little guy. Or girl, whatever the wimpod was, since he really had no idea.

Guzma sneaked in after he wiped his feet from dirt. Clock seemed to be only 5 AM so he quietly went back into his room.

"There", he whispered, "is where you'll stay", Guzma pointed under bed. He picked something soft for wimpod to sleep on and placed it under as well, into darkness where his bug could comfortably lay on. It crawled out of shirt and was heading towards small bed that teenager made for it. Happy for it, it chirped but didn't come out anymore.

A small, sad smile appeared on boy's face when he crouched to see it. Already asleep, it had gone and laid down on his old fleece blanket.

"... Be safe."