My Rainbow

My Rainbow

This took way too long, I have so much work ...

Rainbow — Arcoíris

🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️

Pepa has been having a couple rough weeks.

She was acting moody — well, moodier than usual — and her weather was completely haywire.

There was hail and showers, snow mixed with wind, and sunshine with thunderstorms. She had no idea what was going on with her weather, and Mamá was starting to get on her case about how crazy it was.

Pepa didn’t want to deal with another lecture about how she had a cloud and about how she had to calm down and control herself.

Pepa sits down to the breakfast table, taking a sip of café con leche to get rid of the cloud hanging over her head. She had woken up alone this morning and feels like she had gotten no sleep at all.

“Pepa, estás bien?” Julieta asks, concerned. Her hermana stands by the doorway of the kitchen, keeping an eye on Pepa while simultaneously watching to see if Agustín burned himself while cooking again.

Julieta is now a couple months pregnant, a small bump showing from her blue dress, and Agustín— being the doting husband he is— refuses to have his wife stand on her feet and work all day while she is pregnant. So, he has decided to take up cooking to help her out, no matter how many burns he received.

“No,” Pepa grumbles as she takes a sip of café. Her cloud lightens, but traces still remain. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night. Dónde está Félix?”

“He went outside to garden,” Bruno says as he joins the table. Thankfully, he didn’t have any rats on him, but Pepa still scoots away.

Agustín pokes his head out and winces when he gets a look at each of them. “Dios, did the three of you get any sleep? I mean, I understand Juli not sleeping because of the baby, and she looks beautiful anyway …”

Julieta blushes and Pepa and Bruno glare at their cuñado, a dark cloud materializing over Pepa’s head again. She went to get another sip of her café, only to realize its empty.

Frustration bubbles in her blood and the wind picks up. Bruno glances over in concern. Julieta frowns as she notes her mood swing. “Pepa, you should eat something. Agustín is done.”

There is a yelp, a clatter, then a curse of “Miércoles!”

Julieta sighs, “Almost done.”

She disappears in the kitchen, and a moment later reappears with with the food, setting them down at their respective seats.

Pepa glances down at the plate, and her stomach churns. It was just a normal breakfast, and a delicious one at that, but suddenly Pepa feels sick. Normally, she had a light meal because of her nervous stomach, but now, looking at the food makes her want to throw up.

She has to eat, so her Mamá wouldn’t begin looking at her with frustration, so she wouldn’t have to lecture her about being a Madrigal and controlling herself, and then Pepa would be sent out to do her chores and get the weather all wrong, which would set Mamá in a bad mood again and Dios, where was Félix clear skies, clear skies—

“PEPA!” Her family shouts, and Pepa snaps out of her anxious tangent she see wind and snow rushing around the room in a blizzard.

She freezes, and the wind dies down to leave flurries of snow drifting in the air. Pepa shrinks in her seat as Julieta, Bruno, and Agustín stare at her worriedly.

“Pepa, are you okay?” Julieta asks gently.

Pepa squeezes her eyes shut and rubs her temples. “Sí … I’m just in a bad mood is all. Lately, I’ve been feeling really moody and nauseous, and I haven’t been able to sleep right. And you know how Mamá is during the crops season. I’ve been so stressed and if I have to hear one more lecture—”

“Family,” the warm voice of Alma cuts through the air, and they all freeze before scrambling to get into their seats.

They sit down just as the matriarch enters the room in a surprisingly good mood. She doesn’t even notice the clumps of snow on the floor as she heads for the table.

“I have wonderful news for all of you, and the future of the Encanto.” She turns towards Pepa, who instantly straightens. Her mamá’s eyes are warm and kind, unlike the usual stern look Pepa’s come to recognize.

“I am happy to announce that there is a new door is Casita.” Gasps filled the room and Casita clatters its confirmation. Alma nods, her eyes shining with pride and joy as she turns to her daughter.

“Congratulations, Pepi. We now have a new Madrigal in the family.”

Pepa’s jaw drops as all eyes turns to her, hardly able to breathe. She was pregnant?! Cómo … Cuando …

That explained her weather! Her mood swings, her nausea, her exhaustion. Not to mention when her and Félix—

Pepa stops, blushing, and her hands flutter down to her stomach.

A baby. A baby. Her baby— her and Félix’s.

Mamá is still droning on and on about La Familia Madrigal and the two new miracles and strengthening their community when Pepa abruptly stands up, mutters out an excuse, and rushes out of Casita.

She has to find Félix.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take very long, because as soon as she spots him, she calls out his name and races towards him, tackling him in a hug.

Félix laughs, spinning her around. “Qué paso, mi amor?”

“I’m going to have a baby,” Pepa says.

Félix’s mouth drops open and stares at his wife in disbelief. “Què?!?”

Pepa presses her lips together, a smile growing on her face as the sun glows brightly overhead. There’s no cloud in sight and for the first time the weather is clear.

“I’m pregnant,” she repeats. Her heart beats loudly as she watches her husband’s face turn blank, eyes growing round with shock as his gaze drops to her stomach.

“I’m going to be a papá?” Félix asks. A hesitant smile makes its way across his face.

Pepa beams, nodding her head as she blinks back tears of happiness.

Félix jumps forward and kisses her. Pepa laughs, smiling when Félix deepens the kiss and cups her face. Pepa fists his shirt, kissing him back.

The kiss feels like sunshine, bright and happy as their mouths move together.

Then it’s rain, heaviness growing in intensity like the onset of a downpour.

Then it feels like a thunderstorm, the anticipation building and building until the thunderous release of lightning cracks across the sky like a dazzling firework.

“Eh-hem,” someone clears their throat.

Pepa and Félix both pull away to see their family. Bruno crosses his arms in annoyance, and Pepa makes sure to send him a dirty look as well. Agustín is bashfully turned away, but could still be seen hiding a smirk. Julieta simply smiles, amusement glittering in her eyes.

“Having fun?” Julieta asks, making her way towards them.

Pepa rolls her eyes. “As a matter of fact, we were. Gracias, hermana.”

Julieta sticks her tongue out, retorting, “Por favor, you two will just break the bed later!”

Pepa gasps and Agustín lets out a horrified, “Juli!” as Félix and Bruno burst out laughing.

Pepa turns red, fogging over in embarrassment as her hermana laughs before pulling her in for a hug.

“Anyway, we just wanted to say congratulations — you ran away so fast we weren’t able to tell you.” Juli says and Bruno steps forward, smiling awkwardly.

Pepa returns the gesture. Things have been tense since the incident where Bruno made her create the biggest hurricane Encanto has ever seen on her wedding day, and Juli has often had to come in and play peacekeeper.

“Sí,” Bruno says. “Felicidades.”

Pepa nodded. “Gracias.”

There’s a beat, and Bruno deflates when he realizes that she’s going to say nothing more. Pepa feels a bit bad, but stubbornly kept her mouth shut. Thankfully, her husband swoops in before things could get awkward.

He claps a hand on Bruno’s back, nearly knocking him over with a yelp as his other arm comes around Agustín. “We’re to be tíos, hermanos,” he says. He looks over at Agustín, chest swelling. “We’re going to be papás.”

“Let’s just pray Agustín’s baby won’t be as clumsy as him,” Bruno says.

The man gasps and splutters indignantly as his family laughs. Julieta punches Bruno in the shoulder. “Ah, cállate. Our bebé is going to be perfect no matter who she takes after.”

Agustín beams, swelling with pride as he stares at his wife. She blinks back affectionately.

Pepa rolls her eyes at the sight, a smile tugging at her lips. Dios Mío, and they say we’re bad.

At the thought, she turns around to find her husband’s eyes already on her. Something in her heart tugs. It’s the way Félix just looks up at her— with pure adoration, like she’s the most wonderful thing in the world. He looks at her like the man seeing the sun for the first time, and kisses her like its his last day on earth.

His hand finds her stomach, the size swallowing it. There is a small bump— practically unnoticeable— but it’s there, and it’s theirs. Pepa can’t help but lean down to kiss him, and he leans up to kiss her back.

“Ugh, seriously?! I’m surrounded by couples!”

“No problema, amigo. I can always set you up with someone in town—”

“Dios Mío, no!”

🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️

The first time Pepa sees her child, she knew it had all been worth it.

Despite all the clouds and thundering and snow and the hurricanes, it has been worth it from the beginning because—

Dolores Adríana Madrigal is the most beautiful baby girl in the whole world.

(Agustín might disagree because of Isabela, but that didn't matter.)

She had bright eyes and beautiful curls just like her papá. She is just the perfect mix of Pepa and Félix as she slept in the little red blanket Julieta made her.

Dolores was a quiet baby for the most part, only crying when she wasn't being held and screaming when she was left alone. When they held her she let out soft gurgles as she stared at them curiously with big, brown eyes.

Pepa fell in love the instant she saw her. She could tell that Félix felt the same way too, from the broad smile that split his face whenever he saw his daughter.

Mamá’s lips move in prayer as she stares at her second nieta and clutch the pendant that held her husband. Agustín and Julieta lean over to see with baby Isabela, huge smiles on their faces.

Bruno makes a snarky comment about how Dolores will probably be as emotional as her mother, and Pepa would have struck him down that instant if she hadn't noticed the tears falling down his face as he cries for his sobrina.

Félix keeps on pressing kisses on her face mumbling out endearments of mi vida, mi amor as Pepa hardly breathes, cradling their daughter.

Outside, the labor-induced hurricane slows as the sun tentatively peeks from the clouds.

She loves her.

Pepa gasps, then sobs in delight and happiness as the feeling hits her like a bolt of lightning; striking and electric and fierce as her heart pounds against her chest.

The sun shines, light fracturing off the dew to create the most beautiful rainbow over the Encanto, over Casita, over Pepa — over Dolores.

It is the happiest she’s ever been in her life.

🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️

Hey hyd? You alive?

Hey! Yes, I’m alive but barely — I’m swamped with assignments, procrastination, laziness, and the actual stories I want to write, which is a lot!

Each folder has, like, 3-5 stories I half wrote down, so it’s a lot. I hope to have it all cleared out before I graduate, but it might take a while because of my unmotivation. Still, you can expect to see more writing pieces!

Follow me on Archive of Our Own and Wattpad under the username: so_sure_

There, you will get multi-chapter fics that I will not be posting on Tumblr. Thanks! <3

PS: For future references for my fics I want to claim that all art is not mine. They are simply images that I have found in the internet and thought suited the theme for my story. This is not done out of malice or for taking credit, but simply through pure awe of the work. Sometimes I have not put credit to the artists simply because I forget or because I do not know who drew it through multuple times in digging. Please do not misinterpret my actions and please enjoy 🙏

to love and to learn

I’ve had this request since 2022 and had half done for more than a year now. Sorry it took so long! 😭

Summary: (to have and to hold)

Zoey navigates her relationship with Mike and co. throughout the year, learning that just because things are tough doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hold onto who they are.

A girl with a heart as big as hers shouldn’t be afraid to speak it.

| he is so many things. he is everything. she loses her heart and gets it back, this time ready to hold on. |

*♥️*🩵*

Mal (Spring)

Zoey unlocked the door to her place, purposefully making more noise than necessary as she closed the door and placed all her belongings on the table.

“I’m back!” She called out.

The empty house said nothing back and Zoey sighed, heart sinking. She didn’t know what she was expecting, to be honest. Her house was always empty, always silent, always dark. Normally, that would be any teenager's dream, but Zoey had always felt constricted when she was alone — like she was one tug away from panicking.

Separation anxiety, is what Courtney would call it. Neglect.

Zoey the Lonely, is what the elementary school kids called her.

It wasn’t like Zoey’s parents were bad or anything like that. They were just … never around. They were busy with work and away on trips often, which was fine because they were making money and putting a roof over her head. So Zoey didn’t say anything when they didn’t call her and she always smiled when the neighbors asked how her parents were and if she was fine …

Zoey shook her head out of the thoughts she wandered in. She had friends — close friends, better than anything she could have asked for — and that was enough.

Zoey walked over to the fridge and opened it — only to find absolutely nothing at all. Zoey quickly began looking through the shelves in the pantry and resisted the urge to sigh.

Right, she was supposed to go grocery shopping like, a week ago, curse finals for making her forget —

Zoey grabbed her wallet, keys, and phone and walked out of the house even though it was midnight.

Anything was better than being alone in an empty house.

* * *

Zoey is a sixteen year old girl walking home alone late at night, and apparently that’s some sort of welcome mat to get mugged.

Her credit card is weeping from the amount of things she’s bought but the food will last her a while so she doesn’t have to go shopping again. Zoey’s in good spirits as she crosses the street.

Normally, she would take the buses, but she doesn’t want to wait around outside when it’s one am and she has school tomorrow — well, today. She's also relaxed enough for the first time in about three months to let her guard down a bit, so it's a real shame that she immediately gets jumped by thugs the moment she does.

Zoey shrieks when a heavy hand covers her mouth and she gets dragged into an alleyway. Her back slams into a wall behind her, and Zoey counts three big, dark, intimidating thugs in front of her.

"Hands up, sweetheart, nice and easy," the biggest guy says, waving his gun at her.

Ice-cold fear shot in her veins and she instinctively reached for her pepper spray. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt empty space. She forgot it!

"He said hands up, kid!" the second guy barks at her, his own gun leveling out somewhere wildly above Zoey’s shoulder.

Zoey flinches. Great, not only would she be killed by thugs, she would be killed by amateur thugs. With the way they were holding the guns, she would most likely be shot by their own carelessness rather than actual intention.

"We don't want any trouble, just your money."

Zoey bit back a retort. Yeah, because teenagers just happen to be real millionaires. Who's even teaching these guys how to pick targets —

The thugs move forward, and Zoey cuts off her inner dialogue. Adrenaline races through her veins and her hands tremble at her sides. Just as she tries to summon her voice to call for help, or to desperately use one of Courtney’s self-defense lessons —

“Hey.”

All four of them jump, and the three thugs turn around to see two figures. Zoey couldn’t make out their facial features in the dark, but one was short and stocky while the other was tall and lanky.

The short one took a menacing step forward. “Leave the girl alone, and I promise we’ll leave you with your teeth intact.”

The thugs laugh. “Oh yeah? Last I checked, there’s three of us, and two of you. And we have guns.”

The tall one walks forward, and the thugs gasp. From her place Zoey can’t see who he is, but it makes the thugs tremble.

“B-boss … it’s the Malevolent One! And … the short mohawked green punk!”

Short mohawked green punk? That sounded like someone she knew, but who was the Malevolent One?

Caught up in her musings, Zoey almost didn’t notice the conversation going on.

"Hey kid, we said — hey, stop that creepy grinning, we're pointing a gun at you — "

Duncan just grins wider, cracks his knuckles, and throws himself into a fight.

Zoey screams as Duncan tackles the thug that called him short and gleefully begins going to town on him. The Malevolent One moves like a shadow, knocking the gun from the thug leader and sending him unconscious.

Slowly, they both turn to look at the last thug standing.

The thug’s face loses all its color and he jumps back in terror, screaming as he drops his gun in his haste to escape.

Zoey is frozen, gasping hard as her knees tremble. The two took on three armed thugs and managed to escape with only bruised knuckles.

Zoey’s legs suddenly give out.

“Hey, Zo, are you okay?” A hand is placed on her shoulder, and Zoey looks up to see Duncan staring down at her.

Zoey can’t help but smile. Duncan liked to put up this bad-boy image to make him seem tough, but secretly he had a soft heart. Zoey was glad to be one of the few to see it.

“Yeah, I — um, yeah. Just in shock. No need to worry about me.”

Duncan offers a hand to help her up, handing her the groceries in the process. Zoey shakily stands up, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Duncan.”

She looks at the other guy, whose figure was hiding in the shadows. “Thanks …” she trails off hesitantly.

He steps into the light and her heart stops. Mike, is her first thought. The tall, lanky body, the skin color, the face. Then she looks closer — the frown on his lips, the dark look on his face, the hair covering his eye.

“Mal,” Zoey says. Her throat suddenly feels extremely dry and she resists the urge to swallow.

“Zoey,” he responded neutrally.

Duncan looks back and forth, obviously picking up the strange air between them. “So, are you headed home?” He asked. Zoey and Mal both broke off the weird trance they found themselves in from staring at each other.

“Yeah,” Zoey nodded. “I was just walking back.”

Duncan takes the grocery bags and turns away. “Come on, we’ll walk with you! Don’t want you to get mugged again, do we?”

Zoey exchanged a bewildered look with Mal, but when he merely raised a brow she quickly flushed and hurried after Duncan.

No way was she letting herself be robbed two times in a night.

* * *

“Hey,” Zoey suddenly asked on the walk back. “Where’s Scott?”

Scott, Duncan, and Mal were the “bad guys” of the neighborhood, the misfits. They liked going out at night and causing trouble — nothing serious or endangering, but just enough graffiti to give the police a headache.

Zoey wasn’t very fond of Scott, but if his friends liked him and they were happy, who was she to judge?

“He stayed in because he had to do a biology project.” Duncan said casually, swinging her grocery bags from side to side. On her other side, Mal was carrying her other bags.

Zoey raised a brow. “And he cares because …”

“He’s failing. He spent three hours begging Dawn to help him out.”

Zoey cringed. He must really be desperate if he went crawling to Dawn. She hated his guts more than Zoey did.

“Right…” Zoey said, because she didn’t really know where to take the conversation.

“Anyway, where’re your parents?” Duncan asks. “Should they be the ones doing grocery shopping? Or at the very least, make you do it at a decent time?”

Zoey shrugged, suddenly not in a very chatty mood. “Oh, uh, they’re on a business trip.”

Duncan narrowed his eyes. “Wait, didn’t you say that last month? What —”

Zoey cut him off. “Duncan, I’m tired. So please drop the topic or else I'll text Courtney that you were on the streets beating up thugs at two am on a final’s night.” Zoey waved the phone for emphasis.

Duncan instantly backed off at the threat of bringing Courtney in. He definitely didn’t want his on-and-off girlfriend to get on his case again (even if they were broken up now). “Okay, okay, fine. I get it, I’ll back off.”

Zoey sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

She turned to look at Mal and found his eyes already on her. They were dark and scorching, and it felt like they were burning her body apart to look into her soul. It felt like he knew every secret scrawled under her skin and was taking it apart to observe at his leisure.

Zoey looked away, her heart beating nervously as her skin tingled under his eyes. “This is my stop.” Zoey stopped walking in front of her house. “Thank you for walking me home and for carrying my bags. That was very nice of you.” Zoey sent Duncan a cheeky grin, knowing how much he disliked being called “nice”.

“Just don’t tell anyone about it,” Duncan huffed, handing her the bags. “Probably about time to start heading back anyway. Later, Zoey. See ya, Mal.” With that, Duncan turned away and walked down the street.

Leaving Zoey and Mal standing alone together on the sidewalk.

“Thanks for walking me home, Mal. I appreciate it.” Zoey held out her hand for the other grocery bag.

Mal stared at her open hand uncomprehendingly, long enough for Zoey to get uncomfortable before saying, “I’m supposed to be walking you to your house.”

“We are at my house.”

“No, we’re in front of your house,” Mal corrects.

“My house is literally right there,” Zoey stabs a finger up the front lawn. “I can carry a couple of bags across the lawn. I’ll be fine.”

But Mal just stared at her unwaveringly, so Zoey huffs and marches towards the door. Mal trails after her, and it’s only until she unlocks the front door and opens it when he gives the bags to her.

Zoey flicks on the light, already feeling unsettled by the darkness before she turns to Mal. He’s already staring at her intently, and Zoey bites her lip uncertainty. “Thank you for walking me back,” she says. “For real, this time.”

“No problem,” Mal shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes flicking behind her to see the undeniably empty house. He turns to walk away, before he hesitates. “If you’re ever feeling lonely …” he starts, looking like he was already regretting it, “call me. I’ll always be there.”

Zoey’s face explodes in red and her mouth drops open. Mal quickly turns around and hurries away, leaving Zoey to gape after him in shock.

She closes the door before leaning against it sliding down to the floor. She buries her face in her hands, cheeks hot from her blush.

Yeah, she would call him. She did have his number after all.

She had all of theirs.

* * *

Vito (Spring)

Now, Vito has always been a massive player.

While Manitoba liked to flirt, Vito actually went out with girls. When he wasn't busy starting fights, he was chasing skirts — and while his behavior had always bothered Zoey, lately it bothered her for an entirely different reason.

That reason used to be because she hated the way Vito eyed girls like they were a piece of meat. The smug smirk he wore whenever he flirted with them made her want to punch him.

These days, it was because he flirted with girls. Period.

Not because he was a jerk about it, not because he was crude, not because he finally realized females were more than just boobs and a butt.

It was because every time she caught him winking at a girl or talking her up, it sent her blood spiking. Zoey would find herself gritting her teeth and clenching her fists and she didn't know why.

(Well, she did know why. She just didn't like it, so she ignored it.)

But the fact remained that something had changed, and it was aggravating the life out of her.

Despite everything, Zoey had resolved to simply ignore it. Whatever had happened to her would fade over time, and Vito was his own person (well … sort of. As much as he could be with five others in his brain). He was allowed to make out with whoever he wanted to.

Zoey also knew she was a major people’s pleaser and the type to obsess over every single detail — so she stuck to the mindset of ignoring Vito as well.

And it served her well, until one day after art club she rounded the corner and nearly crashed into Vito, who was currently sucking face with Anne Maria.

Zoey gasped and skidded to a halt. For a moment she simply stood there, gaping. Her feet were glued to the floor and her heart was pounding rapidly.

Zoey clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palm to clear her head. Zoey could feel a powerful emotion bubbling up and she bit her tongue.

What was Vito doing here? Football practice was over, he should have driven home by now. If he wanted to make out with Anne Maria then he should have done it under the bleachers — unless it was occupied by Geoff and Bridgette again. But why would he bring her here? He knew this was the path she always took to get to the bus —

Zoey suddenly stopped at the thought.

She watched as Vito pulled away and noticed Zoey staring at them in shock. For a moment their eyes met, holding a connection as they looked at each other.

Then Vito had the audacity to smirk at her, mouth pulling up in a cocky smile. His hands rested on Anne Maria’s hips and Zoey’s blood boiled.

She wanted to punch him. She wanted to punch him so bad, and she wanted to rip Anne Maria off him and yell and yell and yell until he made her shut up. But she knew what Vito would look like if she did that and Zoey would rather die than give him the satisfaction.

So instead Zoey clenched her fists, scoffed in annoyance, and brushed right past them with her head held high.

Zoey was jealous. Vito didn’t need to know that.

* * *

Chester (Winter)

Zoey was late, and she was dying.

The girl flies by pedestrians, red hair blowing out behind her as she runs down the sidewalk in a full sprint. Her legs burned and her lungs ached as she took heaving breaths of cold air.

It was one of those days in Canada where the air was so frigid it literally hurt to breathe, but the clouds still stubbornly clung to the snow that would fall later. She was late to her shift at work — too busy studying for classes after school — and had missed her bus, leaving her to wait for the second one impatiently.

Zoey burst into the shop. “I’m here!” She announced grandly.

Gwen looked up mid page-turn from her book at the register, observing the disarray that was Zoey. “You’re late,” she raised a judgemental brow.

“I know, sorry. I was just so caught up with school I lost track of time.” Zoey sighs, taking off her coat. Things would be so much easier for her if she had a ride … unfortunately, she and her ride had had a falling out a while ago and she doubted they would want to talk to her anytime soon.

Shaking off the negative thoughts, Zoey falls into the routine of getting ready. She worked at a small vintage shop that was tucked into the corner of the block for decades. Gwen had introduced it to her, and she had fallen in love with the still, older vibe of the place. Zoey was naturally attracted to older aesthetics, so it made sense that she fit in here.

Gwen and Zoey worked in tandem, attending to customers and working the register until people came in fewer and fewer. After a few hours, Zoey took a breath, checking her phone. Evening had come early, the sky turning a gorgeous shade of midnight blue outside.

Gwen reappeared from the back, bundled in a beanie and scarf. “I’m going to head out early. You okay with closing?”

Zoey smiled. “Of course,” she said, waving off Gwen’s guilty eyes. “Go have fun with Trent. I’ll see you at school.”

Gwen turned crimson, said a quick goodbye, then ran out the shop to the car parked outside at the curb. She slammed the door shut, and Zoey caught a quick glimpse of Trent waving at her before they took off.

Zoey sighed and started to close up. She was glad Gwen and Trent were back together after the rocky hardships that had actually led them to breaking up for a little bit. She wasn’t sure about the details of it — some jealousies and lack of communication — but she knew for sure that Gwen had found it hard to deal with her boyfriend's OCD, and struggled to manage it. She had confessed to Zoey about it, how she struggled to keep a normal relationship with Trent when his mental disorder was constantly interfering.

Gwen had come to her about that, asking for her advice about how to have a partner and manage their mental health, and Zoey had given it, feeling like a total hypocrite in the process.

The ding of the doorbell interrupts her thoughts, and Zoey looks up with an automatic smile to treat the last customer of the day before she freezes as she recognizes the person walking through the door.

Chester.

The alter shakes out his coat, wiping snow with a decisive sort of disdain off his cane. He looks up, takes note of Zoey’s unflattering stunned expression, and says, “Are you goin’ to be sittin’ there starin’ till my bones drop off or are you goin’ to make me some tea?”

Snapping out of it, Zoey blushes, rushing to make the drink under Chester's freezing glare. She sets down the pot, pouring the liquid into the cup as Chester grumbles before sitting down awkwardly.

“So,” Zoey manages to get her voice not to squeak. “How have you been, Chester?”

“Like you care,” Chester says gruffly and takes a sip of his tea. Perfect, just how it's always been. He and Zoey always had the same taste.

“I do care, that’s why I asked,” Zoey responds patiently. Without realizing it, her tone slips into the familiar, soothing, serenade that usually came out whenever Chester made a mean comment. “Just because we haven’t spoken in a while doesn’t mean I don’t wonder how you or everyone else is.”

Chester eyes her suspiciously, and Zoey finds herself randomly struck with how she sees him as Chester, and not Mike. To anyone else, it would look like a teenage boy was acting like an old man, but that wasn’t it. Chester hunched in on himself, and had crooked fingers that always itched for his cane; he subconsciously squinted in one eye and spoke with an inflection that Zoey never knew came from. Mike was the total opposite — he walked straight, but with a small slump in his spine as if to make himself less taller; he used enthusiastic hand motions and spoke loudly when excited. He didn't even like tea like Chester — he preferred juice.

“I’m as fine as these old bones can be in this weather,” Chester says after a moment.

“I see,” Zoey smiles. “You should stay inside and keep warm — what will happen if you slip and fall?” Even if Mike’s body was still young and strong, he had Chester’s psychology — so if he fell, he’d be in immense pain because he believed he had the bones of an old man and wouldn’t be able to get up on his own because of the psychological limits in Chester’s own mind.

“ ’s not like I meant to come out on my own,” Chester scowls. “The boy was already frustrated before that darn hooligan ran the red light while we were crossing. Nearly hit us too, that no good son of a —”

“You’re walking in this weather?” Zoey interrupts before he can go on his tirade. “What about your car?” Mike’s parents had bought him a car in the middle of autumn for passing his drivers test, a beat-up old thing. But still, Mike loved it, and the rest of his alters did too, taking it and driving it around to all their individual appointments.

It had been a fight for Mike to get his license — officials were too worried about him disassociating and switching out while he was driving — but thanks to his psychiatrist’s approval and his adopted parents pushing, he was finally able to get it. She can still remember how proudly Mike's eyes had shone when he first showed her his ID.

“Parents took it away,” Chester grunted. “He was switchin’ out with the rest of us too much.”

“Oh,” Zoey’s mouth felt dry. “I —”

“He's a mess without you, you know. They all are, those stupid young fools. But you should know, with what you said before.”

Zoey feels the words hit, like a sucker-punch to the gut. Her mind flashes back to the time when she asked Mike out. She had worn her favorite red halter top, with wildflower sticker tattoos stamped up her arm as she had rubbed it shyly. She had been so nervous; it had felt like the nerves her belly had turned into a livewire full of electric butterflies.

The words she’d said to him came back to her when he asked why she liked him.

"It's just that … the sort of mess you are ... has always felt like the sort of mess I am.”

How cruel of Chester to bring that up so suddenly. But then again, Chester never really had a problem with being cruel when he wanted to get his words across. Zoey found herself momentarily at a loss of words, stomach flipping in guilt. “That’s not … I didn’t …” What was she supposed to say? Sorry? As great at apologizing as she was, that felt too insensitive to say.

She was self-aware enough to know that she couldn’t keep her friendship with Mike, not after how much she’d hurt him. Maybe if they talked more, if she’d been more commutative …

The familiar sting of tears building up mortifies Zoey and she hides her face behind her hand, squeezing her eyes shut. That only makes it worse as the pressure causes a few wayward drops to slip out. God no, she wouldn’t cry in front of Chester, she wouldn’t …

Zoey waits for the sound of disgust that should be coming from him, a grumble about how sentimental young people were, but —

Something soft touches her cheek and she looks up to see Chester avoiding her eyes, holding out a handkerchief. She sniffles, taking it from his hand and unceremoniously scrubbing her eyes as hard as she can.

“You want to help everyone. You're too sweet to be alone,” Chester says gruffly. “Too dependent on others. You’d save a houseplant if you thought it could be your friend.”

Zoey lets out a choked laugh, not sure if she should be amused or offended at the words. “I just — I thought I'd get over it by now. We weren't even together that long anyways.”

Chester stared at her. “Why do ya still miss him? You’re the one that left.”

Zoey stares down into her cup, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Sometimes you don't get a choice. You think about someone ... a lot.” After she broke up with Mike, she had hoped that that would be the last of it. That he would fade into the background of all the other students, and that the only thing left would be a bittersweet memory.

But no. He still lingers, in her heart and in her mind. He was a bolt out of the blue, and a catastrophe that shakes her to the core. She could go about her day just like any other, and like a habit, she'd think of him.

“That’s what happens when ya give up on somethin’ ya care about. You grieve it just as much as you loved it.”

Zoey glances up at Chester before looking away again.

“What do I do now?” She whispers.

Chester takes a sip of his tea. “Ya know what you did wrong. Ya know what ya wanna change. The only thing that you can do now is try to be better next time around.”

Zoey blinks, the bowstring tightness drawn around her shoulders loosening at his words. She gazes into the mug like it holds all the answers, thoughts swirling around her head like a whirlwind. The fears and insecurities still weighed in her consciousness but now — although tentative — resolve was there as well.

She took a sip of her tea as well, chamomile lingering on her tongue. She could still try.

She wanted to try.

* * *

Svetlana (Winter)

Zoey watches on the sidelines as Svetlana dances on the ice, lost in her own music. The scrapes of ice against her blades are the only sound in the rink. It's completely empty, which she felt fortunate for because now Svetlana can completely focus on her routine while Zoey sits on the sidelines.

Svetlana skates by again, arms moving like the wind, somehow making the most complicated movements look like the easiest thing in the world.

She was intricately beautiful, and Zoey can’t take her eyes off her. Even with all the inner turmoil in her head, she can’t help but stop and stare at her. She knew this place — here, on the ice rink — was where Svetlana belonged. Skating was her passion, and the movements of the dance were her religion. The air rushing by her ears could clear her head more than any words can, and Zoey knows that she is the reason why Svetlana is out on the ice.

The cold bites her fingers numb and brings a rosy color to her cheeks, stinging like a slap. Zoey didn’t bring gloves with her, a self-inflicting punishment for what is to come. If this was, perhaps, a month ago, she would have been out on the ice with her, sliding on her skates and trying to catch up to Svetlana. Laughter would be echoing throughout the rink as she kept on slipping, not the void of silence now between them.

She couldn't do it anymore.

She could feel her mind fracturing the more she was stretched thin.

She was just so tired. She couldn't handle it. Dating five personalities, each with their own individual traumas, was too much. The stress, the insecurities, the fears were piling up and she just wanted a break.

She thinks (or hopes, maybe) that the others can sense it — her pulling away. It was cowardly, but she hoped that they would willingly drift off into the sea of faces in the school so that Zoey wouldn’t be able to say anything at all.

Svetlana dances across the ice, blissfully lost in her own winter wonderland and slows to a stop. She opens her eyes and catches Zoey’s. She isn’t quite sure what look reads in her gaze, but Svetlana doesn’t skate forward and close the seemingly sudden large gap between them.

Zoey was gonna break her heart. Take the fragile organ that all of the alters held so dear and shatter it into a million pieces.

* * *

Manitoba (Fall)

Manitoba pulled her along by her hand, dragging her to wherever he was taking her. She honestly had no clue. Mike had switched when he was in gym class, and the now-present Manitoba Smith had promptly ditched and went to seek Zoey out, even though she was in a different class at the time.

It had been … an experience to find out about Mike’s alters. She had known that he had some sort of disorder, because he always seemed to have a pink slip note of visiting the counselor’s office. It wasn’t until Mike had told her about his Multiple Personality Disorder —or Dissociative Identity Disorder, as Cameron often corrected— and Cameron had explained what it was when she suddenly understood.

Apparently, back at his old school, Mike had been severely bullied for his disorder and was often called a freak. Monster. Jekyll and Hyde. It had enraged Zoey beyond reason. She herself had been picked on for being different back in her old town, and she knew how much words could hurt.

When he came here, Mike’s plan of laying low was shot when he saw Duncan, who recognized him when they were in juvie, and from Scott, who had wrangled the truth from Cameron with slightly unethical means. Because it was a small school, the information traveled around the grapevine. Nobody batted an eye. Wawanaka High, if nothing else, was filled with eccentric people.

Mike had explained that he didn’t tell her about his personalities sooner because he was afraid she would think he was a freak, but Zoey had simply laughed and told him how much she loved oddballs. But secretly, she was nervous. She had no idea on how to handle his alters, or his trauma that sometimes arose at the most random things. It had been weird, and scary, and confusing, to see the boy she liked (like … really liked), acting like someone else entirely. His posture, his voice, his entire attitude did a complete turn around, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

“Why are you dragging me out of class?” Zoey complains. “We have midterms coming up, and—”

“You’re focusing on the wrong things, treasure!” Manitoba laughs. Zoey trips at the nickname. “You only live once! Why not make this one worth living with adventure!”

Easy for him to say. Mike was the only one who had to focus on school grades and studying. All the others were there for fun.

Manitoba leads them up the stairs to the roof and Zoey withdraws when she sees the Emergency Exit plastered on the doorway.

“Wait, what are you doing?!”

“Huh?”

“You’ll set off the fire alarm!”

Manitoba laughs like she’s said something cute. He opens the doorway to the rooftop and Zoey holds her breath, waiting for the alarms to start. When there is nothing, she lets it out almost disappointedly. A dud.

Manitoba doesn’t let go of her hand as they walk onto the roof and Zoey doesn’t pull away either as she looks around. So this is where Manitoba went whenever Mike switched out with him. Since Mike had a full-time pass to the counselor’s, he was technically obligated to go there whenever he felt like he was about to dissociate, but he and the others never did. She knows that for a fact because the other alters have been caught trying to leave school (Vito and Manitoba mostly) and now Zoey finally knows where one of them disappears.

Zoey can’t help but stare at him while his back is towards her.

She liked to keep busy. Needed to, really, because then she can ignore the persistent loneliness that ached whenever she was alone in a house that was too big for only her. So she made friends, joined clubs, and studied hard. She took it as a challenge when Cameron had asked if she would date any of the alters since she was dating Mike. If her boyfriend had more parts of himself then she wanted to know them as well.

And she liked them, too. Zoey didn’t doubt that before long she would like them just as much as she liked Mike. Svetlana had a beautiful soul and Zoey loved spending time with her. Manitoba was wild but captivating and she could feel herself getting used to him as well. Vito was coming around as well, taking her on drives whenever possible. She was slowly finding the gaps in Chester’s prickly nature and she remained a polite distance with the ever-elusive Mal.

There were doubts, perhaps, that she had been too hopeful. Not that she would ever think Mike a freak, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she had bitten off more than she could chew. If she was truly the right person to handle this. Zoey had her own problems and insecurities, and she could admit that she was prone to keeping it in due to her upbringing — unlike Mike, who knew how to communicate thanks to his training with his therapist.

“You get quiet when you’re stressed.”

She blinks, broken out of her thoughts due to Manitoba’s casual remark.

“Sorry,” she said. “I think more in my head than aloud.”

“I know, love.”

Zoey is glad Manitoba doesn’t comment on the small jerk she makes at his nickname and her furious blush. It was still embarrassing to get used to the others’ affection.

“Now, get on the ledge, Sheila.”

Zoey raises a brow.

Manitoba’s mouth curved into a smirk. “’Course, if you’re feeling afraid I’ll have no problem holding onto a beautiful—”

Maybe it was because of the thought of Manitoba thinking that she was weak or too afraid or boring to do it, but before she thought about it she grabbed onto the metal bars separating her from the ledge and leaped over them. Her converse hit the other side and Zoey spun around to face open air. The wind wasn’t too bad, but if she let go of the bar it would only take a push to send her careening to her death.

Zoey glanced over her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips. “You were saying?”

Manitoba gazed at her, none of his usual cockiness in his eyes. “Look.”

She's never had a fear of heights, so she isn't afraid when she stares down at the world. Trees dappled with red, orange, and gold leaves lined the block of houses they adorned. The cars looked like toys on the winding road, the people so small they looked like ants. She hears Manitoba jump on the ledge to join her but doesn't turn her head.

“Wrong place, Shiela.”

“What?” Zoey asks. She turns to look at Manitoba only to see him watching her already.

“You’re looking in the wrong place.”

Without any further comment, he takes her chin and gently lifts it up so her gaze shifts upwards. Away from the town and to the world beyond that. Midnight-colored lakes, rolling plains, and forests stretching as far as the eye can see. And even farther, mountains peaking towards the blue sky, desperate to touch the clouds.

The air rushed out of her in her next breath.

And suddenly, Zoey understood what Manitoba was trying to make her get. There was a whole world out there. A whole country, and whole continent, even, and Zoey was still lost in her head. Her problems seemed like nothing in the grand scheme of things, and Zoey was just letting her life pass her by because she let them consume her.

She stands on the edge of the rooftop. Wind brushes along her skin, causing goosebumps to rise along her arm, but Zoey doesn’t say anything. She didn’t bring her jacket, and Manitoba wasn’t wearing one either. Even if he was, she doubted she would ask for it. She stands on the ledge, making no move to shield herself from the wind and looks at the Canadian wilderness in front of them.

She tips her head back and closes her eyes, the wind making the loose strands of her hair fly around her. Her feet felt rooted to her place, but she imagines herself as free as a bird. She could taste the tantalizing weight of wilderness on her tongue and wants.

So Zoey stands, and stares, and breathes.

* * *

Mike (Fall)

Zoey walked into her last class of the day, Chemistry. It had taken her a while to find the classroom, so most of the tables were filled up. She spotted Lightning in the back showing off with Cody staring up with adoring eyes. Noah was on the other side of the class, rolling his eyes at the antics before burying his nose in his book.

Apprehension pooled her gut. She didn’t know who to sit by and barely knew anyone. The class was mainly filled with seniors she only knew by name with only a handful of juniors she had never spoken to.

Zoey feels sick. She wants to walk right out. Why was her social anxiety starting to act up now?

She spots a boy sitting with a table to himself, a giant bookbag next to him. He’s hunched over, like he wasn’t used to the open air around him, and is wearing thick glasses and a giant red hoodie that hide nothing with how scrawny he is. Zoey is surprised to see him have such a big bag, seeing as how the boy is basically twigs it looks like even the weight of a butterfly could knock him over.

He seemed like the safest bet to sit next to.

Zoey walks towards the small boy — anxiety trembling in her bones — and gives him a nice smile, trying to appear more confident than she truely was.

“Hi!” She greets cheerfully. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

The boy jolts so hard that he nearly topples to the floor. “Oh! Yeah, sure! No problem!” He eagerly swipes all his belongings off the side of the table to make room for her.

“Thanks,” she says, taking a seat. Continue the conversation, ask questions rings in her head from all the How-To-Make-Friends podcasts she had obsessively listened to over the summer. “I don't think I've ever seen you around before. Are you a freshman?”

The boy lights up, and soon he is talking a mile a minute. His name is Cameron, and he's sixteen like her — which surprised her, given his small stature — but this is his first year of attending Wawanakwa High after being homeschooled all his life. Apparently his mother was obsessively overprotective of her only son and as a result, Cameron was what was known as a “bubble boy”. He was sweet though, and eager, even though he lacked any real world experience he was quite knowledgeable in academics.

By the time Cameron kindly offers her some hand sanitizer, Zoey is estatic to find that she has made her first real friend of the year.

Their conversation comes to a natural lull and Zoey busies herself organizing her backpack and pulling out the notebook she will need for the class.

Officially, chemistry should have already started, but none of the seniors pause in their continuous chatter and after waiting for another awkward couple of minutes, Cameron turns and asks a senior, Courtney, where the teacher was. The honors student makes a face, nose wrinkling in a way that makes her freckles scrunch cutely and responds, “Our teacher is Blainely. She never shows up to class on time, no matter how much Principal McLean complains.”

A desk over, a girl named Heather with beautiful, glossy long hair, scoffs in a way that shows her just how much she’s a fan of their teacher and goes back to filing her nails. Zoey wants to compliment her on her hair, but something primal very deep inside of her tells her that any word spoken to her would be met with a nasty comment on her hair.

She goes back to doodling on her own notebook before all of the sudden the door slams open and a harried teen rushes in. He’s holding a pink slip that meant he was coming from the office, and after seeing that the teacher is nowhere in sight, looks for a table.

He lights up as he sees the only open seat on Cameron’s other side and hurries towards it, practically dumping all his belongings on the table as he collapses in his seat.

“Hey,” he says, running his fingers through his spiky hair. “Did class start yet?”

Cameron shook his head no.

“Really? But didn’t class start like —” he glances at the clock, “— ten minutes ago?”

“Well, our teacher for this class is Ms. Blainely, and I heard she doesn't care about tardiness because she's always late.” Zoey reports back what Courtney said to her.

“Can’t see why,” the boy responds flippantly. “We’re as pleasant as all the teachers in the school.”

Zoey feels her cheeks pull up in a grin and she giggles. “Nice to meet you. I’m —”

Blainely slams through the door of her classroom like a typhoon of bravado and too-much confidence for a teacher who was late to her own class by ten minutes. “Alright, you little brats, it’s time for Chemistry!” She sing-songs.

There’s a thunk from behind of Bridgette slamming her head into her table and her deskmate Lindsay sympathetically pats her on the back. A few tables over, Heather fake gags.

Blainely, in her true, characteristic nonchalant fashion, tells them to have at it in mixing the chemicals after barely skimming the safety protocols and handing out labs.

Her, Cameron, and their new teammate work in tandem together, like they’re a well-oiled machine. He cracks jokes with Cameron and laughs with Zoey, and she feels her cheeks getting sore with how much she's grinning.

She hasn't had this much fun in a long time. Their new teammate is charismatic. And cute. And nice. Zoey didn’t really have a type, but if she did …

Well. It would probably be him.

From over Cameron’s head where he’s chattering, Zoey chances a peek at the boy to see him already watching her. Her heart leaps in surprise and she can’t help but stare at him even after he quickly glances away. Does she have pen ink on her face? It wouldn’t be the first time. Zoey opens her mouth to ask, but before she could —

The bell rings.

The students stir and begin packing their bags with vigor, chatter filling the air as the last class of the day is finished. Cameron bids them goodbye and leaves quickly, and Zoey waves as he practically sprints towards the door, saying something about his mom picking him up.

She spots the boy beginning to pack his bag with the new chemistry papers and realizes amongst all the fun they had together, she has yet to learn his name.

“Hey,” Zoey smiles over the space at the boy. “My name is Zoey.”

The boy blinks, then gives her this big, beautiful, beaming grin that seemed to light up his entire face. Zoey feels her heart skip a beat, then trip and stumble and crash against her ribcage at the sight of it. Oh boy.

“I'm … Mike.”

* * *

Detective Pixane AU

Summary: PIXAL Borg is one of the best detectives in Ninjago City. She can solve any crime, fight any bad guy, save every person. That is, until, the Sons of Garmadon grow right under her nose and she meets the flirty criminal Snake Jaguar. And he’s the type of criminal that breaks a career, not makes them.

Tags: Flirty Zane, BAMF PIXAL, Asshole-but-still-a-good-person Cryptor, Matchmaking Ninjas

Based off prompt from the-modern-typewriter

“Hello?”

Detective PIXAL perked up, turning away from the computer at the sound of the unfamiliar voice echoing through the empty police precinct.

PIXAL ran the voice through her memory banks and upon reaching a match she sighed and stood up, stretching her artificial joints before walking towards the entrance of the police station. “Yes? What is it you —” PIXAL’s smile dropped once she saw exactly who was at the front door. It wasn’t exactly the person themselves that made her pleasant smile fall, but rather what they were holding.

Right on the freshly waxed floors of the police station stood four of Ninjago’s greatest heroes, dressed in their brightly colored gi’s and holding a prisoner between them.

The Ninja looked extremely out of place, the Green Ninja’s feet shifting awkwardly and looking almost guilty while the Red Ninja merely crossed his arms. The Gray Ninja was holding the prisoner by the arm while the Blue Ninja stood a couple paces away, ready to zap him if he tried anything.

“Oh, hello, Ninja,” PIXAL settled on, because she didn't really know what to say. She kept her eyes fixed on the Green Ninja, steadfastly ignoring the prisoner gazing at her.

“Detective,” the Green Ninja nodded respectfully. “Sorry to bother you so late, but we recently apprehended one of the SOG members causing trouble while we were on patrol.”

“I understand,” PIXAL said. “Thank you again, Ninja. I’ll take care of the criminal.”

The Green Ninja nodded professionally and proceeded to shuffle out of precinct, looking more like an awkward teenager at his first school dance than the leader of an elite ninja task force. The rest of the Ninja bid their goodbyes, and soon it was just PIXAL and her newly acquired prisoner standing in the lobby.

PIXAL closed her eyes. 1… 2… 3

"You would think," Snake Jaguar said conversationally. "That dealing with all the hardened criminals on a day-to-day basis, your colleagues wouldn't be so afraid to pass me to you.” He smiled, blue eyes gleaming. “I am cuffed and harmless.”

"You,” PIXAL informed him flatly, “are the bane of my working life. And you are anything but harmless. Come. I need to revisit your file.” PIXAL grabbed his arm and dragged him to the interrogation room.

The precinct waiting room was empty apart from the two of them; it was late, with the Commissioner heading home and the rest of the officers calling it a night after they went over the reports the Ninja had deposited on of the most dangerous gang in Ninjago: The Sons of Garmadon. The Sons of Garmadon were a gang rising in prominence in Ninjago City. The threat levels were rising so quickly that the police force had grown concerned, and had to team up with Ninjago’s greatest protectors: The Ninja.

Now, PIXAL didn't mind the Ninja; they were vigilantes, but good people who risked their lives for others. They were a force to be reckoned with, going up against villains and winning with power, skill, and sheer willpower. They fought on when the police despaired but were still gracious enough to offer a hand and lend information to the police — even though it was clear that they could do more with the knowledge than the officers ever could.

What PIXAL did mind about them was how they kept bringing in a certain criminal to her, and how it was suddenly her job to extract information from him. Normally, PIXAL wouldn't mind this if it weren't for the fact that he was peculiarly flirtatious and always managed to escape the police after he had been apprehended.

PIXAL had tried to pass him off to her partner and half-brother, Cryptor, but he and Snake Jaguar had swiftly exploded into an argument that left both sides with more than a little animosity between the two. Not that PIXAL couldn't relate to Snake Jaguar’s bitterness — Cryptor was known to be antagonistic and temperamental. There was a reason she was partnered with him.

“Here we are,” PIXAL sighed as she reached the interrogation room and sat him down, still cuffed. The file slapped down on the table between them and she began flipping through his records.

Name: Unknown Alias: Snake Jaguar

Affiliation: The Sons of Garmadon

Allies: Rocky Dangerbuff, Mr. E, Ultra Violet, Killow, the Quiet One (?)

Profile: Criminal rose in the ranks of the gang after saving the life of SOG General Mr. E. He is a high-ranking member in the inner circle of the gang along with partner Rocky Dangerbuff. Information on the criminal before joining the Sons of Garmadon is unknown.

USE EXTREME CAUTION: Criminal is highly trained and able to escape the security measures

PIXAL frowned at the lack of information in the file. She tapped her fingers against the table, pursing her lips in focus. The portfolio of Snake Jaguar felt so vague, and left too many gaps. But PIXAL has seen him so frequently and she knew there was more to him. There was just so much going on, and so many open pieces of the puzzle. How can one know a person without truly knowing them?

"You look tired, detective," Snake Jaguar said softly. PIXAL broke out of her thoughts to see him watching her from across the table.

"Bane. Of. My. Working. Life."

“I could bribe someone to do the paperwork for you?”

PIXAL surprised herself by letting out a soft laugh, and through Snake Jaguar’s own surprise a pleased expression settled on his face. “Thank you, but I’ll do my own paperwork. You can help me by not committing crimes anymore.”

“Ah, but then how would I get an excuse to see you, detective?” Snake Jaguar teased back, at something inside her chest fluttered. Oh, she must be glitching again — that’s been happening more frequently while she’s questioning Snake Jaguar. She should probably check that out.

Before PIXAL can respond, there’s a screech of the door opening and Cryptor walked in. Quickly, PIXAL and Snake Jaguar straighten up, and to her horror she realized that she and Snake Jaguar had both been leaning towards each other from across the table.

"PIX, have you read the Ninja's reports from last week? It —" Cryptor stopped at the door, his red eyes flicking between PIXAL, who was promptly busying herself with paperwork, and Snake Jaguar, who was glaring right back at Cryptor.

PIXAL held her breath, waiting for the moment her brother would inevitably lose his cool and blow up …

“They dumped him back here again?” Cryptor scoffed derisively. He walked in, red eyes scoring across Snake Jaguar with contempt before turning to PIXAL. “As if the rest of us are equally equipped to deal with super villains. Bastards.”

PIXAL blinked. Well, that was unusually tame — for Cryptor’s standards, anyway. “We are nindroids, Cryptor. We are more than capable of taking care of gang members and lowlifes. I doubt the Ninja have found anything useful in their interrogation and handed him to us.”

“Leftovers,” Cryptor rolled his eyes. PIXAL shook her head. Unlike her, Cryptor was less fond of the Ninja — he had too much pride to ask for help and their partnership to take down the Sons of Garmadon more than aggravated him. PIXAL could understand where he was coming from, she supposed — this was the whole reason they were created. Cyrus Borg had only begun investing in AI when he saw how overwhelmed the police were with common crime.

While the Ninja were off defeating supervillains and saving the world, the police were struggling against common hoodlums. They didn’t even have any proper weapons! This was why PIXAL was created in the first place — her and Cryptor. They were made to assist, working with the police to create a safe place in Ninjago.

This was why Cryptor was so upset. The police had let the Sons of Garmadon — a simple biker gang — grow into power until they had to go asking the Ninja for help. They had failed their jobs, and now innocent people were at risk.

PIXAL shook her head again. Now was not the time to dwell on this.

“What was it you wanted to talk about, Cryptor?” She asked.

“It's about the Ninja,” he said, and his eyes flicked towards the prisoner. “I’ll tell you later, when you aren’t tied up with your … prisoner.”

PIXAL looked down, realizing for the first time that Snake Jaguar was still there, listening to the conversation intently. PIXAL felt a bolt of alarm. She had completely forgotten he was there. If he had heard something he could take back to his gang …

“Yes, that would make sense,” PIXAL nodded curtly. “Are you finished for the night?”

Cryptor nodded. “Unless you need help with that one?” He arched an eyebrow.

PIXAL shook her head. “No, that’s alright. I can handle him. I’ve done so before.”

Cryptor was already turning away and walking out the door. “Just don’t overwork yourself and stay up too late. You’ll just burn yourself out for tomorrow and be useless,” he said gruffly.

PIXAL shook her head, unable to hide the small smile against her lips. She knew he was concerned for her, in his uncouth way. “Goodnight, Cryptor.”

The nindroid slammed the door closed in response.

PIXAL turned towards Snake Jaguar to find his crystal blue eyes already upon her. A sense of almost anticipation swept through her, and it lingered throughout the entire room they were alone in. “You heard what he said. We’ve wasted enough time. Stand.”

Snake Jaguar stood from the chair he was sitting in during the exchange and walked towards her, hands cuffed from behind his back as PIXAL began thoroughly patting him down. Her hands traveled along the planes of his body, folding into leather and pockets and pulling out all matters of utensils to help him escape — anything could be a weapon. PIXAL could feel his eyes burning into her — bright blue orbs of knowledge that tracked her movements, drank in every detail of her; from the tips of her silver hair to the purple wirings on her cheeks to the green glow of her eyes.

PIXAL didn't turn to face the criminal. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me like that.” PIXAL tried to steel some authority in her voice. “You are beginning to get on my nerve circuits. Are you going to be staring at me the whole time?”

“Only if you continue to feel me up,” Snake Jaguar responded amusedly.

PIXAL cannot stop the indignant gasp at the shameless insinuation. “I am not feeling you up!” She glared fiercely.

“Oh no? This is the fourth time you’re feeling my chest,” Snake Jaguar’s eyes were very bright.

“One can never be too thorough when it comes to you,” PIXAL snapped back. She keeps her hands very professional as she searches his jacket pockets to come up empty.

Snake Jaguar let out an amused hum before falling silent. After a moment, he suddenly asked, “Who is he to you?”

“What?” PIXAL looks up from her searching at the sudden question. Snake Jaguar stares back at her, unusually serious.

“Your police partner, Cryptor. Who is he to you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. He seems to care about you a great deal. You seem close.” Snake Jaguar averted his eyes. “At least, as close to someone with his personality can be.”

PIXAL paused in her searching, turning up to stare at him. Her processors whirred, trying to come up with a reason why he would ask something like that out of nowhere. An idea came to the forefront of her mind and she smirked.

“Cryptor can be prickly, I’ll admit. But that just makes the moments he’s not all the more special. He is simply very serious about his job.”

“As are you!” Snake Jaguar retorted. “And yet you do not get as temperamental as him.”

“Cryptor is only tempermental because he is frustrated. He is passionate about his job and is very good at it.” PIXAL said calmly.

“It seems you care about him a great deal,” Snake Jaguar said icily. It suddenly felt as if the room had dropped several degrees in temperature.

“Indeed. Cryptor is my partner at the police force,” PIXAL said lightly. “And my half-brother.”

She felt Snake Jaguar stop at her words, and was grateful her face was turned away from him so he couldn’t see her smirk.

“Your half-brother?” He repeated.

“Yes, that’s what you call it, isn’t it?” PIXAL hummed, more focused on searching the criminal for any weapons than the conversation at hand. “Someone created from the same source, yet different? Cryptor and I were both made from Mr. Borg, but we are both different in ways that can only be discerned as being half-siblings.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not at all. Cryptor and I both love each other, in our own way. It is what it is.”

“Do you have any other siblings?” Snake Jaguar asked curiously.

This time PIXAL looked up, narrowing her bright green eyes suspiciously. “You seem awfully invested in knowing about my family, Snake Jaguar. Any reason I should know why?”

He quickly shook his head, and PIXAL found the action oddly endearing. “No! Not at all. I was just curious. I just …” he trailed off, looking frustrated. At himself, at the situation, or at her, she didn’t know. “I just want to get to know you.”

PIXAL blinked, surprised, and something strange glitched in her chest. She must be malfunctioning again. She looked down again to hide the small smile growing on her face as a pleasant feeling bloomed in her chest.

“I have a younger brother.”

Snake Jaguar looked surprised that she even answered, but soon a bright smile lit up on his face. “You do?”

PIXAL nodded. “Yes, shared between Cryptor and I. His name is Mindroid.”

“Why is he called that?”

PIXAL’s memory banks were suddenly flooded with the jokes Cryptor said once they met their honorary little brother for the first time, and she couldn’t quite hide the grin that grew on her face. “Because he’s short.”

Snake Jaguar barked out a laugh, and PIXAL could not help the amused giggles that escaped her as she remembers Mindroid’s enraged and indignant face whenever Cryptor would call him “half-pint” or “toaster” or “last out of the factory line and ran out of scrap metal”.

When their laughter finally faded, PIXAL looked up to see Snake Jaguar already watching her. His crystal blue eyes were bright as he looked at her, and his smile was soft.

“You are beautiful when you smile like that,” he said. PIXAL was taken aback with how gentle his voice sounded. How fond . “I’ve never met anyone quite like you. You’re amazing.”

Snake Jaguar hummed in acknowledgement, not taking his eyes of PIXAL as he let her step back to regain herself.

PIXAL cannot quite stop the small gasp that leaves her at that, staring up at him with wide eyes. "R-right." PIXAL’s voice processor must be damaged. She never stuttered. "I think you're all done."

No, that was absurd. Not let. He was cuffed. He had no weapons on his person and no key to escape. He may be a skilled fighter, but he was no ninja, nor Elemental Master.

A shiver went down PIXAL’s spine at the thought.

"Come along," the detective said. "You know how it goes by now."

"Indeed." The Snake Jaguar’s head tilted. "You know, there is a reason that the Ninja keep dropping me off on your shift instead of interrogating me themselves. You know that, right?"

PIXAL froze.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

The Green Ninja’s apologetic looks.

The Red Ninja’s flirty winks.

The Gray Ninja’s amused eyes.

The Blue Ninja's excited glances.

"Just something to think about," Snake Jaguar said cheerfully, then walked off in the direction of the cells. "Now, come lock me up."

PIXAL released a shaky breath and quickly hurried after him.

She was going to murder the Ninja.

Of butterflies and roses

Summary: Drew hadn't fallen for May first; he been struck, curious about this doe-eyed girl in a bandana — distracted, fumbling, so very nervous —and her Beautifly. Drew liked to pay attention to people, how they got to who they were. It helped him in contests, to weed out who would be the real competition. Drew saw May playing with her little frisbees and thought, “She wouldn’t make it.

But now — now, Drew leaned forward and stared as May stumbled onstage and proceeding to blindside the audience with her plastic frisbees; with five Stringshots, a Gust, and one beautiful Silverwind.

A small smile made its way onto his face.

“Huh, what do you know?” Drew said to himself. “That wasn’t too bad at all.”

***

Or: a love story about surprises and realization

***

When Drew first sees May playing on the beach with her plastic pink frisbees he thought she was a joke.

Contests were a serious thing and they weren’t for the faint of heart. Drew has seen many bright-eyed amateurs bounce on stage to perform their shallow appeals before running off in tears when they lost. Drew knows this girl will be no different.

Because her idea of an appeal was pathetic and lame. Her performance lacked flair and finesse, and was much too shallow. She had no style, baseless confidence, and her naïveté was going to get her as far as her performance will.

Beautifly sends a Gust at the frisbees, and the girl daintily catches two of them on a spin as her friends cheer.

Drew watches in amusement as the third sails right over her head and catches it.

***

The girl passes the appeal round and is matched up with Drew right off the bat.

After their first meeting, she is determined to beat him and win the contest, and Drew scoffs at the fairy tale. He has more experience than she could ever hope for under his belt, and he can’t wait to beat her.

In the end, he leaves her in tears on the stage. She’s slumped to the ground by her Beautifly, her lips pressed into a wobbly line as tears glass her eyes. Drew gets a sudden sense of deja vu as he stares at her; he’s reminded of his first loss — his very first loss against Solidad. He remembers the feeling of defeat and devastation and turns away.

At least in his first contest he made it into the finals. With her, it seems like she barely trained for the battle round at all. (He is a little bit disappointed — he was hoping she would put up as much of a fight as she did their first battle.)

With this loss, Drew would see what type of person May would be.

Would she give up like many others have when they faced him, or would she stand up and try again?

***

Drew takes his loss against Robert hard, but moves on by training harder and winning another contest. He tells Solidad about him in one of their weekly calls, but carefully leaves the girl he’s met out of it. He still hasn’t decided on what type of trainer she is, and there will be no point in telling Solidad about her if she never shows her face again after defeat.

He spends his time training Roselia and Trapinch, searching for a new partner for his team, and winning himself another ribbon before heading to Fallarbor Town for a contest. He’s heard the competition is going to be steep.

Occasionally, he thinks of the girl in the bandana and her Beautifly, but it’s a thin, fleeting thought he easily dismisses in his busy days.

***

When Drew sees her training in Fallarbor Town, he feels something startling and surprising in him. His eyes are immediately drawn to her and he can’t help but make his way over to her to tease her about her botched up combinations — (because really, how can a coordinator not know about combinations?)

Based on their first meeting, May doesn’t like Drew. He’s arrogant and criticizes her and offers nothing good to say about her combinations. Drew shows off his newly acquired ribbons and tells her she has no shot of winning a competition this steep.

He walks away, mouth uncurling into a grin and hopes the fire he’s sparked in May will be enough to make this contest a memorable one.

***

It's Drew who loses in the Fallarbor Contest, and normally he would be upset about that if it weren’t for the fact of who won.

May won the Fallarbor Contest, and with nothing but her own skill and talent. She took the same combinations he made fun of and turned them into something elegant and powerful. She and Beautifly beat Grace and won the ribbon — her very first ribbon — and May’s never looked more alive and in sync with her Pokémon.

Drew feels reluctant admiration, pride, and (strangely) joy press into his gut and leave a tingling sensation throughout his body.

May finally did it; and although Drew still thinks that she wouldn’t have been able to beat him if they were paired up in the first round, her fight against Grace almost deserves a congratulations.

***

It was Roselia’s idea to keep giving May roses, and Drew went along with it. He doesn’t know why exactly, but Roselia is very intuitive and reminds him of Solidad, who is spending her off-season in Kanto training.

He feels like the roses are falling into some sort of routine of theirs, and strangely enough, Drew likes it enough to not want to think about what it means.

“I suppose this rose is for Beautifly, right?” May spins the flower between her fingers and teasingly asks. Her smile is light and playful and Drew feels his stomach suddenly knot in on itself at the sight. He’s not quite sure what to think of that.

“Yeah, something like that.” He keeps his response vague and puzzling before turning away before she realizes that the rose is just as much for her as it is her Pokémon.

***

Drew starts to talk about her to Solidad at around the second contest she wins. That’s two times May has defeated somebody who has beaten Drew, and he is fascinated. He talks to Solidad about their first meeting, how she totally blindsided him with the sudden Silverwind in their first battle. He talks about the first contest she won, the Pokémon she used, and is completely, totally, utterly unaware of the knowing look Solidad has in her blue eyes.

“Looks like you have yourself a rival, Drew,” she interrupts with a grin.

Drew scoffs. How can May ever be his rival?

***

It’s a while before he sees May again, but almost against his will he keeps his ear against the ground for her. He hears she wins the Lilycove Contest and the Purika Contest — after a bit of difficulty, apparently — but hasn't heard anything else.

It’s six weeks until the Pokémon Grand Festival and Drew is just out training his Masquerain when he hears someone call his name. He turns around to see May and her friends waving at him so he makes his way down the cliff to them.

May shows off her four ribbons and informs him that she’ll be entering the Pacifidlog Contest with the same happy-go-lucky smile and bright blue eyes. And because Drew doesn’t not like how she looks at him and he doesn’t like how he doesn’t like it, he makes fun of her enough to challenge him to a battle. It doesn’t get far before a trio calling themselves Team Rocket burst from the ocean and proceed to vacuum them into a giant mechanical Magikarp before exploding.

This is what he gets for spending time with May, Drew thinks as he stares out at the foggy ocean. He and May had woken up on the beach alone, together, surrounded by wreckage and with no idea where the others were. Thankfully, Roderick comes and saves them from their incessant bickering, and they set off to find May’s friends.

Admittedly, Drew is a bit excited to have landed on Mirage Island of all places. Few people have managed to set foot on the land, and it was crawling with liechi berries. That’s why when Drew finally spotted them so close to the cliff, he wasn’t as careful as he could've been.

The earth gives out beneath their feet and as they’re falling the only thought Drew has in his mind is that he’s probably going to die. May grabs onto Bellsprout’s vine, and Drew can tell as she grasps his hand that it's not going to save them.

May’s grip slips and they both hit the water, hands still firmly locked with each other. The current rips them apart and Drew desperately surges to the surface, gasping for air.

“May!” He calls, using whatever air he has left in his lungs. The water is stinging his eyes and roaring in his ears, but he’s still desperately searching for the brown-haired coordinator.

He spots her up ahead, choking on the spray of water and being submerged again and again before Drew swims forward and grabs her arm. Her blue eyes find his green ones, and they’re big and wide and scared as she fights against the current. They struggle to stay above water, Drew trying to support May as much as he can before they hear Roderick’s yell above the buffeting waves: “There’s a waterfall dead ahead!”

Fear freezes his veins. If they weren’t going to die, then they certainly would now. There isn’t any time to think straight before it’s on them, but May tightens her grip on Drew as panic seizes them both and Drew clutches her wrist as hard as he can before they go over.

They slam against the bottom, the impact sweeping them apart before Drew falls unconscious.

When he wakes up it’s nighttime, but the first thing he sees is May’s worried face and big blue eyes. She’s crouched over him, and when he opens his eyes her face breaks out into a big, relieved smile. Drew doesn’t know what happened or where he is, but he does know his heart is doing acrobatics in his chest right now and he feels dizzy with the knowledge that May probably saved his life before the Wynaut did.

The Wynaut are nice and thoughtful for wild Pokémon, and with them Drew and May find themselves becoming more at ease from their near-death experience. May releases all her Pokémon and goes to play with the Wynaut while Drew sits to the side and watches with a small smile on his lips.

The May in front of him right now is totally unencumbered and free. Her smile is big and her laugh is bright and for the first time Drew is able to see her in the light that she is a girl, not just a coordinator. This is the first time they are together outside the context of contests, and that means that the girl he is looking at right now is the real May. Normally when they met May would put up a front and talk all big for the sake of their rivalry, but not now. Now, she is completely natural.

Almost against his will, Drew feels a powerful emotion grow inside him as he watches her.

***

May has grown — slowly and steadily, with the help of her friends and Pokémon. Drew sees her start to win contests, learn strategies, her trust in her Pokémon becoming more prominent with every move she calls.

Alongside his admiration, there is something new and exciting that pulse in his veins now, and it makes Drew determined to win. Solidad calls it competition from across the phone line in Pewter City, and Drew actually feels like laughing.

Because, him? Competitive about May? It hasn’t been that long since she was stumbling through coordinating and trying to figure out combinations. But then, he realizes, it has.

May has grown into coordinating, training her partners and catching new Pokémon. Drew thinks that she can make it into the Grand Festival, and looking deeper, he thinks that he wants to face her there.

Drew knows that Solidad can see the realization on his face and quickly hangs up before she can tease him.

His Vibrava had evolved into a Flygon a while ago, and Drew has a sudden idea about who he wants him to train for.

***

It’s not a surprise to see her at the Grand Festival, but Drew is never going to admit it. May lights up when she spots him and is quickly running towards him with a bright smile. Her enthusiasm makes him smile and as she snatches his rose almost petulantly, he feels the strange emotion bubble up again.

Unfortunately, Harley shows up and May is instantly swept up with his bravado and false promises. Drew already knew she trusts easily and is unfalteringly kind, but Harley was pushing it and May is totally unaware. She almost blows her chances at competing in the Grand Festival battle rounds.

Frustration bubbles up, and Drew knows it’s unreasonable, but May doesn’t get it. She’s made it all the way here, and she was talented, but she still doesn’t get it. To be a coordinator one had to trust in themselves and their Pokémon, and find their own style to make their own Pokémon’s appeal shine through.

And May didn’t get it.

Fortunately for her, she manages to impress the judges enough to pass the appeal round and win her way through the battle rounds — until she’s matched up with him. They face off against each other in the third round of the Hoenn Grand Festival; and as they stare each other down from across the pitch, Drew recalls their first battle. He hasn’t had a real contest battle with May since then, and although Drew knows how it’ll end he still wants to see how she’ll react.

Drew calls out Roselia and Flygon. May’s never seen his Pokémon before, and when he tells her that he raised his Flygon specifically to battle her he can tell she is both flattered and scared.

Drew makes the first move and the battle is on.

***

In the end, it isn’t Drew’s time as Robert comes out on top in the Grand Festival Finals, but it was a good battle and Drew gave it his all. He learned a lot from battling Robert and was already coming up with combinations for next year.

He impatiently waits his way through the closing ceremonies and as soon as the party starts he disappears to the beach to practice with his Pokémon. They train for about an hour before someone stumbles upon them, and Drew turns when he realizes it’s May.

She’s confused about why he’s still training and Drew is reminded that it is her first season of coordinating. He gives her advice before heading on his way, but can’t help but leave her with one last thing.

“I’m hoping to see you back here next year too, May,” he says. “You were good.”

She stares at him, gaping slightly. (Has he really never complimented her before? It seems like she takes up most of his thoughts to not have.) Her sapphire eyes are wide as the seabreeze tousles her hair. He’s suddenly aware of the waves crashing against the shore and the stars shining in the night sky. Drew can barely hear the sounds of the party drifting towards the beach.

For such an open space, it feels so entirely intimate in the moment. May looks beautiful in the moonlight, and the realization of what that means strikes him.

Drew walks away from her, feeling as though someone once so out of his reach becomes touchable for just a slither of time.

***

Drew goes to Kanto for the next contest season and is surprised to see May already there. She’s still as rose-scented, sun-kissed and vibrant as she was in Hoenn and Drew is unable to withhold the realization that he likes her. He really, really likes her.

The realization follows him throughout Kanto, so he throws himself into contests and combinations to avoid thinking about it altogether. His Pokémon notice, but Roselia is the only one who knows and Drew can sense her disapproval. He ignores it — they’re rivals above all and Drew values that — her — more than his feelings.

Still though, he can’t help but go see her. Drew knew so little about her. He could easily spot her voice out of a crowd, but he wanted to hear her stories. There was still so much to May that he didn't know. Drew never really minded being a mystery to the average person (sharing parts of himself was something he was naturally against), but with May he wanted her to know him.

He wondered if she had similar thoughts about him and if part of her wanted to know more.

Drew gathers his five ribbons and heads to the Grand Festival. He’ll see her there.

***

Drew meets up with Solidad the morning of the Grand Festival.

When they first met, Solidad had beaten him and Roselia in the final round of their first contest and then invited him out to lunch afterwards. Although Drew had his reservations, he still went.

Solidad explained that she had a season of experience over him, and that her battle with him had to be the most grueling one she’d ever faced. She was impressed with his performance and wanted to see him again in another contest.

As they competed together more throughout the season and their respect for each other grew, he started to open up to her more and meet up with her more often. It's only natural that Solidad is now his best friend.

They have run into each other a couple of times in Kanto, and had carefully shared contest information and have appropriately planned out their routes so they didn’t meet up at every contest. Still, Drew had looked forward to the towns where their paths were scheduled to cross.

“So, what did you think of May?” Drew asks a bit too casually as he sips his tea. He’s not really a fan of the taste, but Solidad loves it so he drinks without complaining.

“I like her. She’s really sweet and friendly. The total opposite of you,” she says with a teasing smirk.

“Uh huh, sure,” Drew rolls his eyes. “Do I even want to know what you two said about me?”

Solidad’s eyes twinkle. “That’s between girls only. Whatever May says is completely on her own volition.”

“Great. She’s definitely going to rub something in my face now.” Drew takes another sip of tea and struggles to not make a face. Solidad does the same, watching him with calm blue eyes.

“I’m a bit sad you haven’t introduced me to her earlier though,” she speaks up suddenly. “Seeing how much you talk about her. I can see why you like her.”

Drew chokes on his tea, and for once it wasn’t because of the taste.

Solidad knows. She's probably always known, Drew rationalizes, but the knowing smile the older coordinator wears cements the fact that nevertheless, Solidad knows.

But then again, if Drew had really wanted it to be kept a secret, he wouldn’t have introduced them in the first place. But Solidad was his closest friend and Drew liked May (enough to give her advice, give her roses) and he had wanted the two of them to meet.

“She — uh, I, uh — ” Drew stammers. He feels uncharacteristically embarrassed and it throws him off his game. “I — ”

“It’s okay, Drew.” Solidad thankfully cuts him off. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m actually glad you’ve found someone like May. She’s good for you.” Drew’s face burns and Solidad’s face softens as she observes his flustered reaction. “Just … don’t let your feelings get in the way of your performance, okay?”

Drew scoffs at the thought. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” he reassures her.

He may like her, but they're still rivals.

***

It’s a surprise when he sees Ash and Brock come to talk to him instead of Solidad, but figures she’s probably having a talk with May after he snapped at her.

Guilt twists in his chest as he thinks of her hurt expression before he ignores it and turns to face the sunset. Don’t let your feelings get in the way of your performance, Solidad had said. Drew internally scoffed. She should have said, “Don’t let her performance get in the way of your feelings.”

Seeing her perform with her Munchlax … it shook him. For so long, May had always been the one behind him, chasing after him. It didn’t hit him until today that … she can pass him. She can beat him.

She had changed; she was a threat. He had changed; he was no longer untouchable.

And that scared him.

“Look, I said it was on my mind, alright?” Drew snaps.

“I know that Drew,” Ash clambors down to join him. Pikachu hops down his shoulder.

“Solidad’s having a little talk with May right now. I think it would be a good idea to do the same thing,” Brock says. Drew hmphs.

“You know …” Ash breaks the silence, rubbing Pikachu’s head. “Watching you out there earlier made me think about all the rivals I’ve faced in battle over the years. I never talked to them about how they trained or anything.” Ash turns to face him. “We deal with that on the battlefield.”

Drew can’t help but stare, shocked at the comparison. It's no secret that a lot of competitive battlers don't take coordinators seriously. They saw it as more of a glorified beauty contest than showing off the strength of the Pokémon with appeal. Not to mention, coordinating was more seen as a feminine form of battling, with its emphasis on beauty and combinations.

For a while, Drew thought Ash was one of those battlers — that’s why he challenged him to a battle in Fallarbor Town. But no, Ash is here drawing comparisons from his battling to relate to coordinating. To him and May.

Ash and Brock are here, telling him in their own way that they understood him. That they took his side.

Drew relaxed. “I hear ya,” he chuckles. “We’re rivals, May and I.”

Somehow, that seems to sum up everything and nothing at all.

***

It’s the Kanto Grand Festival at the Indigo Plateau, and it's Drew up against May in the quarterfinals. He walks onto the stage and hears the cheers so loud it makes his ears ring. The atmosphere of the stadium is electric, and Drew keeps his head straight.

His eyes wander across the field to May and he sees the determined glint in her eyes that Drew knows is reflected in her own. Two years, two regions, and two talented coordinators.

They’ve been ready for this their whole lives.

***

In the end, it’s only one of them who can win, and after a long, grueling battle, the winner is decided.

The screams and cheers from the stadium are overwhelming so Drew closes his eyes and takes a breath, steadying himself.

The battle was incredible. May was incredible.

She is still standing there, staring up at the scoreboard in disbelief and unable to believe what it reads. She’s surprised, shaky from the battle, but happy-ecstatic and Drew is proud to have lost to her. It's been two years since they met, since he first saw her on the beach of Slateport City with her plastic pink frisbees, and since then she’s been surprising him ever since. They’ve both changed since they first met; the final battle an accumulation of everything they learned on their journey.

Absol slowly makes his way to him, head already bowed in defeat. His Pokémon took his losses harder than Drew did, but this time the trainer wasn’t feeling bad about this one at all.

Absol looks up in surprise when Drew reaches forward and rubs his head. “Thank you, you fought hard. You're the best, Absol.” Absol lights up at the praise, gratefully pressing his head into his hand.

Drew turns to notice May’s gaze on him, questioning and uncertain. She’s worried about how he’ll take the loss against her, and suddenly the feelings Drew has tried to keep from fully consuming his heart come forth.

It’s because she surprises him. She’s surprised him from the very beginning — from the first time they met, the first time they ever competed, the first time he truly saw her — and she kept on surprising him, whether it be her skill or her passion or her love towards people and Pokémon. Drew hadn’t fallen in love with May; he was struck, stunned by the care and awe he has for her. She completely blindsided him and turned his world upside-down. He never would have imagined that the girl he had met on the beach would turn into one of his greatest rivals.

Drew’s eyes soften, mouth pulling into gentle smile as he nods. It’s okay. He lost, but it was to May and he is okay with that because she more than deserves her victory. May beams at his approval, throwing her arm around Combusken in celebration.

Drew watches for a moment longer before closing his eyes and turning away, smiling.

***

Drew doesn't stick around after the festival. His bags are packed and he’s headed out. Drew has no new destination in mind, so he just travels around Kanto, exploring the parts he didn’t get to see before. He spends two months just wandering, training and discovering himself. His mind is on May, and coordinating, and on where to head next for the next Grand Festival.

Drew finds a beautiful lake — a glittering expanse of blue in front of him — with plenty of open space to practice some tricky appeals he has been working on. He calls out Roselia and Masquerain and they work on some doubles appeals for around an hour before Drew gives them a rest. Roselia wanders along the shoreline, looking happy and relaxed while Masquerain flutters around the lake.

Suddenly, to his surprise, Roselia runs towards her trainer, exclaiming happily. Drew blinks, alarmed, before he hears a familiar voice speak up behind him.

“Hey, Drew!”

Drew turns to see Solidad approaching with Slowbro, a smile on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Drew asks before he can stop himself.

Solidad laughs. "Jeez, it's nice to see you too."

Drew smirks and waves his hand at her. "You know what I meant."

"Well, am I not allowed to want to see you?” Solidad asks gently. “You practically ran away from the afterparty of the Grand Festival, and I’ve barely heard from you.” She settles on the grass right next to him as her Pokémon goes to greet his.

Drew runs a hand through his hair and winces. “Sorry. I've been busy.”

Solidad shakes her head. “Typical of you, isn't it? But don't you think you’ve trained enough?”

Drew shrugs and says nothing; she knows what his answer is. They both watch as Roselia comes forward and Solidad rubs her head. “So, have you decided on where to go from here?”

“I think I’ll head to the Johto region next.” Drew says. “What will you do?”

“Johto too, I think.” Solidad turns to meet his gaze. “Just because I became a Top Coordinator doesn’t mean I want to stop. I want to keep coordinating, traveling, and winning. I want to be a master coordinator and be accepted into the Ribbon’s Syndicate.”

Drew smirked and closed his eyes. “Yeah, you’re not the only one, you know.”

The Ribbon Syndicate was a big ordeal for coordinators alike. It was a private, special organization that only coordinators with a legendary status could call their home. Members would finally earn that sought after "Master" status and finally become a part of the world's elite, setting an example for all young coordinators alike.

Solidad smiles. It’s quiet for a while, both of them watching their Pokémon get along before she speaks. “I gave her your rose, you know. She caught you as you were leaving, right?”

Drew tenses, before he relaxes. “Yeah. Thanks for giving it to her. I … couldn’t give her that one in person.” It feels entirely too honest than he meant it to be, so he avoids Solidad’s eyes as she studies him.

When Drew had first given roses to May, it was a mocking. The flowers were filled with taunts about how her Pokémon were carrying her to victory. Then Drew had started to notice May, and his roses became fleeting — everyone knows what red roses meant. How could Drew give out roses when he didn’t even know who he was really giving them to?

But now this one was different. After everything — their fight, their battle, the final leg of their journeys — the rose held a different meaning now. It is a confession of his affection, respect, and awe for her.

It was the only genuine rose.

And they both knew it.

“Here,” Solidad holds out a shrunken Pokéball and Drew takes it. He glances down at it and blinks.

“This is Butterfree’s Pokéball,” he says, surprised. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Because you need it,” she says simply. “You’ve done enough reflecting, Drew. You need to get out of your head, and the best way to do that is with a new partner. He’s yours now.” She stands up as Slowbro wanders towards her and returns him.

“Where are you going?” Drew is still reeling.

“To Johto,” Solidad raises a brow as if to say ‘obviously’. “And you’re going to Fennel Valley.”

“What’s in Fennel Valley?” Drew is scared to ask.

“You’ll see.” Solidad smiles.

***

Drew does end up making his way to Fennel Valley and runs into May. As soon as he sees her, he understands why Solidad sent him here instead of going to the Johto region first.

Drew feels like he’s seeing himself a week ago. May is lost, out of sync, and confused. It’s a mental thing he’s seen in himself and other coordinators stuck in a rut, and Drew tries to pull her out of it.

He challenges her to a battle, his heart beating faster when he sees the fire relight in May’s eyes.

They’re talking outside later — May sitting beyond the fence while he leans against it — and Drew tells May he’s going to Johto. He studies her reaction, trying to see how she’s feeling, and watches her eyes lower as she leans against the fence with him. “It’s pretty there, right now,” she says.

Drew gazes at her. She’s looking at the sunset, how the pinks, reds, and golds reflect off the mountains. The sprawling region in front of them looks beautiful, but Drew can’t seem to take his eyes off May. There’s no moonlight this time — May’s dripping with the sunset glow, chestnut hair waving in the wind, azure eyes deep and Drew feels like his heart is going to crawl out of his chest looking at her.

He really, really loves her.

Harley interrupts, as he always does, and soon he and Drew have to leave. May calls out goodbyes behind him as he walks away, and Drew raises a hand in return.

Life insists on — they’re rivals, May and him. They will always come together. As frequently as roses bloom, they will meet each other, again and again.

So … is he?

[I thought of this while showering at midnight, then wrote the whole thing in the next three hours on a school night.]

You're really gonna tell me they don't have the same eyes?

***

It always started as a question before it snowballs into something more.

“Dayeon, can we ask you a question?”

Dayeon turned to see 008 and 018 standing behind her. She smiled, trying to seem as open and friendly as possible. The Numbers were nice to her — intimidating in general — but indifferent to her mostly. They mostly kept to themselves and didn’t approach her often, but when they did she tried to be as genuine as possible. Ijin saw them as family and trusted them, so that meant Dayeon cared about them too.

“Yeah, what is it?” She asked 008, who was the one who spoke first.

The man — giant really, because Dayeon had to crane her head all the way up to look at him — shifted his feet, appearing oddly uncomfortable. 018 crossed his arms, defensive and avoiding her eyes.

“Well, 018 and I were discussing about 001 and his normal life — how he’s interacting with normal people his own age and —”

“Oh my God,” 018 interrupted, rolling his eyes. “We wanted to ask, is he gay?”

Dayeon choked and did a double-take. “What? No, he’s not. Why would you say that?”

“Because he has girls literally hanging off him and he doesn’t even notice! No guy would ever act like that unless he’s gay.”

“He’s not gay, just oblivious! This is the first time that he’s interacting with normal girls his age — he’s totally clueless when it comes to romance!” Dayeon argues back.

“Are you sure? Even if he’s oblivious he’s sure to pick up the cues of a girl liking him. He was literally trained to read body language,” 018 pointed out.

Dayeon pauses; that was actually a good point. She thought of all the times Yeona’s crush was painfully obvious. Was Ijin actually oblivious, or was he faking it? “Still, it's not like there were any girls that were interested in him back in the Camp for him to pick up signs; he was nine years old and all he was focused on was surviving.”

“Yeah, but so was 032 and he still —” 008 smacked 018 and he quickly stopped talking.

“What are you talking about?” 016 materialized behind her and Dayeon jumped; she didn’t even hear him coming.

“We’re asking her if 001 is gay,” 018 interjects bluntly before she can open her mouth.

“Is he?” 016 raised a brow. “I mean, it would certainly explain why he doesn’t notice all those girls.”

“Thank you,” 018 guestured to 016 empathetically.

“No, he’s not!” Dayeon said. “He’s shown no interest in guys!”

“If 001 has all those pretty girls hanging off of him and doesn’t have a girlfriend by now then he really is gay. Even if he’s oblivious he would notice someone taking an interest in him.” 016 pointed out.

“That’s because he isn’t even interested in romance. He’s more focused on his family and living his normal life. Besides, he isn’t really … emotionally available, if you know what I mean.” Dayeon winced, trying to phrase Ijin’s decade of trauma as delicately as possible.

“Oh, but 032 is?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” 016 dismissed immediately.

“Alright then. If you want to know so bad, I’ll just ask him myself,” Dayeon said. She turned around and scanned the area, taking note of where everyone was. 002 was off to the side restocking the supplies while 004 was beside him, cleaning his knife. 006 and 032 were settled down across the camp having lunch. She spotted her brother on the other side of the clearing.

Dayeon walked up to Ijin, who was busy organizing his guns.

“Ijin, can I ask you a question?” She asked, adopting an innocent expression. Her brother looked up before smiling that small, sweet genuine smile he always saved for her. For a moment, Dayeon almost felt a bit guilty before she shoved it away.

“Of course. What is it?”

Dayeon plopped to the ground beside him before taking a deep breath and saying —

“Ijin, are you gay?”

On the other side of the clearing, 006 spat out his drink.

“W-What?” Ijin looked startled at the question.

“Are you gay?” Dayeon repeated calmly. Vaguely, she can hear the sounds of 032 choking on his food and the thwack, thwack, thwack, of 006 smacking his back to clear his throat.

“N-No …?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes …?”

“Alright! Just wanted to know!” Dayeon said brightly before kissing his cheek and walking away. She could feel the eyes of all the other Numbers burning into her back and she tosses the group of 008, 018, and 016 a sweet, victorious smirk before heading to find 005.

She would find this hilarious.