There is a goddess of memory but not one of forgetting. The latter should have one, for forgetting is just as important as the being of memory. Amnesia is a more extreme form of forgetting and it is easy to sympathise but not to empathise. For how few know what it is like to suddenly wake up and not remember anything?
Sycamore wakes up, head completely thrashed. No memories come but he can see the tear stains on his sheets and he can feel the sticky residue upon his cheeks. Tonight, he is to meet Serena at a gala dinner held in honour of those who have obtained the Medal of Kalos. He gets up, head spinning still and the tears come.
No memories.
Just sadness.
He gets ready, reaches there at a quarter to eight and his mussed hair, uncombed, already drawing admiring women and men. Serena, cheri! he calls out to the young girl bedecked in jewels and wearing a shimmering dress. The whispers die down and flare up again as he heads towards her.
He puts on his best smile and dressed in a plain black suit, flashes pearly white teeth at the crowds.
Perhaps it is not too extreme to call him a ladykiller.
Vous vous appellez, Serena? Bien, non? You have saved us all and I thank you for it, he adds the last portion in a lowered whisper, still ashamed. He could have seen it but he ignored it. Fiery passion. The only thing that can burn brighter than an actual flame.
He sweeps through the crowd, drawing her along, until they reach a table with her friends and other dignitaries. A lot of handshakes and how are you’s pass.
The anonymity afforded by large crowds was always enjoyable; a peculiar combination of comforting and enticing. Perhaps that’s what always drew him back to the famed City of Light: the hustle and bustle, the outstanding abundance of things to do and people to meet. Above all, however, he enjoyed how few knew his name or recognized his face. The fifteen minutes of fame that had come along with his brief championship had made him somewhat of a celebrity in sleepy Vaniville, but here he was just another face in the crowd. No one looked up to him with stifling expectations or delusions of grandeur. He was free to do as he pleased, to feel once again like he had some agency over his own life. And in a way, it was terrifying.
That particular night he had found himself in the outskirts of the downtown area, where centuries old buildings created an eccentric labyrinth of decorative facades and hazy yellow light. It was a risky venture, heading into the area that was notorious for ruffians and nondescript alleyways. But for the past several months he’d felt particularly reckless, as though nothing he could do or say would yield any consequence. Call it stupidity or young courage; whatever the case was, he cared not. Meandering through the cobblestone streets at the late hour, he looked surprisingly at ease, azure eyes narrowed coolly as the voices of other night owls rose into the night. A crisp breeze caressed the city in a telltale sign of the changing seasons, coaxing a cover of grey clouds to shroud the yellow moon in shadow. Noticing the sudden change in lighting, he glanced up briefly, a half smile tugging at one corner of his lips. It had always been his favorite season, and it had arrived exactly on time.
As reverberations of music and the distinct aroma of alcohol filled the air, he paused. This had to be it. Turning suddenly to enter an inconspicuous door, he blinked several times, eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of light. As if remembering something, he paused and reached to retrieve a mask from beneath his arm. Fastening it carefully around his head, he adjusted it slightly, catching sight of the iridescent rays that were thrown from its surface in a nearby mirror. It had obviously been meticulously constructed, the mosaic of reflective jewels meant to mimic the antlers belonging to the legendary Pokemon of life. Though he’d never do it justice, he decided to pay homage to it regardless, as though by association standing before the behemoth would gradually render itself less of a nightmarish memory.
Always one for flair, the rest of the brunette’s ensemble consisted of an elaborate black and blue suit, drawing inspiration from the royal uniforms of long past Kalosian royalty. The coattails framed his tall, lithe figure, and for once in a long while, he turned ever so slightly in the mirror, feeling truly confident. Sure, it was a bit overboard for a run of the mill costume party in the nightlife district, but he was never one for half-assing anything, especially when it came to style.
Proceeding further into the venue, he immediately headed to the bar and secured a glass of wine, sipping generously at it as he surveyed the rest of the patrons. Though Calem was far from shy, he was considered more or less a “baby” among these people. After all, at nineteen years of age, he had only just secured his right to drink publicly. After regarding the other costumed partiers - some with judgment, others with silent praise, he sauntered out onto the floor, finding refuge in a song that was much more lowkey than the previous electronic one.
And that’s when something peculiar caught his eye.
Some several feet away, another lingered at the edge of the dance floor, clad in a striking dress that bore an undeniable resemblance to the god of destruction, Yveltal. Looking incredulous, he was unable to hide his shock as his eyes took in every careful detail of the gown, from the distinct scarlet hue to the sprawling, symmetric black markings. There was no doubt; whoever had created it had an incredible eye. Feeling immensely intrigued and amused by the coincidence, he wandered over, but not before securing another glass of wine. After all, even though he was arrogant, didn’t mean he couldn’t be a gentleman.
“Looking at your costume, I would’ve thought you’d seen it for yourself,”
he began, referencing the deathly avian as he came up next to the stranger. Stumbling over his own words, he silently scolded himself. The entire point of this event was to enjoy the mystery of it all, and here he was dropping the truth bomb that he’d seen a legendary creature up close and personal.
“Y’know, from pictures. It’s pretty damn accurate.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes. Why was his confidence suddenly failing him?
“You know what, I’m bad at this. You might need this,” he conceded with a self depreciative smirk as he offered the other class of crimson liquid. As the hazy lights of the venue fell upon the stranger, he caught a glimpse of her eyes from behind the intricate red and black mask. Bright blue in hue, they struck an uncomfortable chord, causing his heart to flip in his chest. Paired with the waves of flaxen hair that fell around her shoulders, there was a disconcerting sense of familiarity, conjuring thoughts of someone he hadn’t thought of in quite some time.
Feeling guilty for attributing this stranger to someone she probably didn’t know, he snapped out his reverie, looking for some way to redeem the conversation.
“Sorry, was kind of out of it for a sec there. I just got back to the city after a few months, so it’s been a pretty weird day.” Looking at the other and having to remind himself some people just simply looked alike, he appeared curious. “So, what brings you here? And why Yveltal? I feel like we’re sworn enemies now, but I promise to be civil,” he concluded with a grin.
✤ -HIT ME W UR BEST SHOT (4 Kalosian hot cross buns)
Neighbor Girl: 1:25 AM: Are you crazy?
1:27 AM: Absolutely.
Neighbor Girl: 1:40 AM: Whatever. See you in 20.
It was no wonder that the girl hadn’t stopped replying to him altogether by now, considering his habit of requesting her company at inopportune times that usually fell somewhere between twilight and four in the morning. Unlike Serena, who was a young and busy professional, he had fell to the wayside following a remarkable triumph over the temperate region’s league, unable to decide how to spend a copious amount of free time. In comparison he was, to put it bluntly, completely irresponsible compared to his rival, having such an innate fear of rules and conformity that he often took odd jobs here and there, whether it was working as a coquettish barista by day or masquerading as a brooding street musician by night. He’d had no desire to take on the full responsibility of a championship, wanting nothing to do with the publicity or logistics of the position. The trainer was still considerably young, and in some forefront of his chameleon soul he felt that the responsibility would only restrict his ability to do as he pleased, the boy becoming wildly bored with any inkling of routine. With all this taken into consideration, Calem operated on a completely different level than Serena, and yet somehow they managed to make their strange friendship work.
The night had been yet another where he had texted her out of the blue, so perturbed by the quiet of the evening that he just had to do something, no matter how impractical. That, and this particular night was especially opportune, as it boasted the beginnings of the year’s most brilliant presentation of natural beauty: the Aquanid meteor shower. It was something that he had always cursed himself for not witnessing, always finding himself preoccupied with something else or forgetting about it altogether until it was too late. But this year he was determined that things would play out differently, so around the peak viewing time he texted the girl, grinning in amusement at her typical reluctant response that was always polished with the perfect amount of annoyance.
It was approximately two in the morning by the time he had managed to climb on top of one of the clay rooftops littering the city of light, his silhouette dark against the faint blue of the horizon as he took a moment to take in the ethereal beauty from up above the streets. The myriad of endless lights, bright and mingling like fireflies, offered him a sort of inner tranquility that he couldn’t describe, the kind that rendered all of the chaos and anxiety within his soul moot. Smiling wistfully with a certain vulnerability that only emerged in solitude, he cautiously lowered himself into a sitting position upon the rooftop, allowing his considerably long legs to dangle over the side of the building into the void below.
Knowing that it would most likely be frigid at such heights, he had opted for a sensible but stylish ensemble: a navy blue wool cardigan fitted over a slate gray sweater, underneath which a white colored shirt complimented his thin yet lithe frame. Paired with dark denim and a brown dress boots, he was probably too dressed up for such an activity, save for the beanie that made a futile attempt to calm his unruly hair. Polished off with a subtle mist of a cologne crafted in Lumiose itself, it would be fairly easy for one to accuse him of trying to impress his star viewing partner, which of course he would have replied with an exaggerated, unconvincing laugh and incredulous scoff. However, sitting in the darkness allowed him to truly mull over what he had proposed, his eyes glancing down at a sack containing a bottle of Kalos produced cabernet and two cheap yet sturdy glasses. Staring at it for a moment, victim to his own paranoia in the silence, his lips pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowing as he almost considered dropping into an alleyway adjacent to the building. She wouldn’t misconstrue it all, would she? So what if it happened to be a stereotypically romantic venue and that he had snagged a bottle of wine on the way over? Friends drank wine while watching meteor showers all the time!
Rolling his eyes at his own uncertainty, he leaned back, his eyes cast towards the sky in case any blazing chunks of rock made themselves apparent. He had chosen the location strategically, selecting an old brick and mortar boutique that probably hadn’t seen business in at least fifty years. It was located on the ground level of a multi-story apartment building, one that was luckily equipped with an old fashioned fire escape that allowed for a straight shot to the roof. It was a bit obscure and difficult to locate in the darkness, but its location in an abandoned retail area in the outskirts of the city meant that the city lights did less to inhibit the interstellar show. As the minutes passed, he became a bit worried that the instructions were perhaps too unclear or reckless for her liking, the trainer knowing how practical she was in comparison to himself.
Reaching a hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone, he paused as the sound of an acute metallic clang penetrated the still of the night, the sound repeating in twos as if born from footsteps. Raising an eyebrow, he twisted from his spot on the ledge, his eyes narrowing in the murky atmosphere as an indiscernible figure sauntered towards him. Before he could decipher whether it was a human or a stray Pokemon, a clear, feminine voice rang through the night, the owner obvious by the reprimanding tone alone.
“First of all, this was the best…location…you could…chose?!” she huffed in between labored breaths, bending at the waist to gather her bearings as the dim, golden glow of streetlights below illuminated her intense, icy blue glare. “Do you know how hard it was to find this place? I wasn’t exactly intending to climb any buildings in this outfit, you know.”
“Always a pleasure to see you too, Serena,” he jested lightly, an amused smirk painting his features as she approached him, her petite yet slender form gaining clarity as she lingered a considerable foot or two from where he sat. When she remained stoic and stationary, her arms crossed tightly across her torso, he raised an eyebrow, shooting her a curious look.
“Well aren’t you going to sit and stay a while?” he insisted, to which the other gave a singular, vehement shake of her head, her body language guarded and wary. She remained standing, her cerulean gaze seeming to scan the city in a nondescript, erratic fashion.
“What, you afraid of heights or something?” The brunette gave a playful scoff, his eyes narrowing once again in an almost challenging manner as the devilish half smile lingered on his face. “I never knew you were such a chicken.”
That comment seemed to shake her from her cocoon, the blonde casting an irritable, burning look in his direction as her arms fell to her sides. “God, you’re such an ass! That’s not it at all. I was just…taking in the view, that’s all,” she mumbled unconvincingly, padding cautiously to the edge before lowering herself into a position that mimicked his own.
Once there, they sat in silence for a few long moments, Calem casting a sidelong glance in her direction as her attention seemed fixated on the sky. It had been a while since they had last seen each other due to their widely varying schedules, and no matter how many occasions they did spend together there was always some sort of stifling division between the two, a tension that did not exist between him and his other friends. His words always felt a bit more fumbling around her, his natural confidence faltering in a manner that was disguised by flirtatious quips and teasing remarks.
As she glanced back over at him, appearing confounded as to why he was staring, he quickly looked away, not realizing that he had drifted into an absentminded reverie.
“What?” she asked, her voice sharp and defensive, a bit of concern lingering beneath. Shrugging nonchalantly, he hardly had time to properly formulate a response before the words fell out of his mouth, hasty and inelegant.
“You look good,” he murmured, feeling a torrent of blood rush to head as if he had consumed the entirety of the unopened bottle of wine. He blinked in shock at the tenacity of his own statement, the surprise quickly dissipating into a self contented, smug smile. At his words, her visage automatically turned beet red as though a switch had flipped, her features screwed up in a mixture of disbelief, embarrassment, and anger as she hit his forearm.
“W-What? What are you talking about? Are you messing with me right now, because I am not in the mood, I just left from a long night in the studio and –”
Her rambling, incredulous words were cut short as he extended a peace offering in the form of a wine glass in her direction, the girl taking it with quiet reluctance as she watched him with marked wariness.
“C’mon neighbor girl, stop taking everything so seriously. Forget your job for one night, and enjoy what the world has to offer. You might miss something extraordinary with all that running around,” he insisted, twisting to retrieve the opened bottle. Removing the cork with a resounding pop, he met her gaze evenly, tilting the bottle so that the vermilion, aromatic liquid flowed steadily into the glass. “Say when.”
Serena watched him silently, her gaze meeting his own in silent opposition as the wine continued its descent into the glass. As the volume neared the top rim, he rolled his eyes as an exasperated gasp emanated from his lips, the teen drawing the bottle back so that the wine didn’t spill over and stain her mauve hued sweater dress.
“Wow, rude. Am I really that terrible to be around?” he asked in a falsely offended manner, his eyes focused on his own glass as he filled it halfway with the alcohol. That comment in particular seemed to draw some inkling of amusement in the girl, breaking through her circumspect barrier as a small twinge of a smile decorated her elegant features.
“Yes.”
With that, they sat there for a while, sipping at their respective beverages and exchanging their typical small talk, the topics ranging from what new designs Serena had managed to conjure up that week and what sort of classical melodies Calem had managed to twist into his own brooding tunes. As glasses were refilled and the bottle inadvertently emptied, the two gradually became more at ease with each other, the girl having even closed the cautious distance she had kept from her rival, the foot turning into a mere few inches.
With a sort of confidence that only subtle intoxication could provide, he peered down at her in silent reverence, dark eyes admiring the way that the silver light of the moon illuminated her gentle features. Ever since he had met her it was hard to dismiss her graceful, classic sort of beauty, the teen harboring a crush that he kept formidably repressed for the sake of their fervent rivalry. It seemed to only grow as they got older, the other always finding new ways to compliment her appearance with her growing career as the young man was left fumbling, trying to keep up with her effortless style.
He was shaken from his brief spell of infatuation as a small, excited gasp came from her lips, the blonde’s eyes sparkling vigorously as she prodded his shoulder. “I can’t believe it, I saw one! I never thought you’d be able to see them from the city,” she exclaimed, her energy quickly calming into a subdued state of wonderment as she looked back to the sky. “It was so beautiful…”
“What? Not fair, I haven’t seen one yet,” he huffed childishly, following her line of sight up to the darkest portion of the sky. Sure enough, within mere moments a dazzling, swift streak of light traced a blazing path across the sky, its trail followed by several more, all painting a brilliant image of indescribable natural beauty. Taken aback at the sight, he sat there in awe, the magical light reflected in both of their eyes as the phenomenon continued, the stars seeming to dance to a silent symphony. It was everything he had hoped for and more: the kind of humbling moment that made one forget themselves altogether, one where there were no deadlines to be met or explanations to be made. One in which the chaos of the world was deemed irrelevant, one during which not a single thought of tomorrow was entertained.
His heart twisted at the sight, a rare frown crossing his features as the stars continued their interstellar descent. Had things gone differently only a few months prior, all of this would have been gone. Vanquished. Obliterated. There would be no decrepit rooftop to serve as the ultimate makeshift theater, no rich taste of wine to greet the tongue, not even a world from which to view the galaxy.
“It could have all been gone,” he murmured quietly, his tone solemn and grave. “All of it. Everything. It’s…It’s fucked up, we almost all died. I can’t handle it sometimes… It keeps me awake at night all the time,” he admitted, raising his glass to take one last sip of the wine in a futile attempt to chase away the thought.
Serena looked at him with undisguised concern, her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to formulate some sort of comforting statement.
“You shouldn’t worry about that. You defeated them,” she stated plainly, always one for practicality.
The words seemed to strike a chord in him, the brunette turning to meet her gaze intensely. He was so tired of being labeled the unwitting hero, the underdog who had saved the world. In reality, he couldn’t have done it without the support of those behind him, the centerpiece of the group being none other than Serena. She was truly his rock, taking every loss graciously, teaching him techniques of battle that he had never considered before, and always encouraging the others in the group when he would revert into lapses of self doubt or irresponsibility. Had she not been there that day, navigating the dastardly, horrific lair alongside him, he wasn’t sure if he would have had the courage to go through with it all.
Struggling to find words, he looked away from her, releasing the weight of his inner turmoil with a single sigh.
“You’re always the know it all, but this time you’re wrong,” he stated bluntly, a part of his sober, guarded self screaming internally as if to warn him not to continue any further, should he regret it the next day.
Never one to listen well, he continued: “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Before the girl could object to his statement, his hand lifted from its place upon the concrete ledge as if propelled by its own autonomy, completely disregarding every blaring objection he would typically have about the idea. It lingered hesitantly in the still air for a moment before resting decisively on top of her own, the surface of his palm considerably clammy thanks to an exceptional case of nerves. At his touch, she snapped her head up to look at him, an astonished look taking over her features as her lips parted in preparation for an ardent protest. Upon realizing how serene he appeared, staring up at the stars with a quiet smile upon his face, her mouth closed, the blonde’s eyes staring down at her own shoes as her skin lit up in a solid bright scarlet.
Finding her reaction endearing, he appeared amused, making the bold decision to intertwine his fingers in the spaces between hers before closing the distance altogether with a definitive squeeze. She immediately tensed from head to toe, her own hand creating its fair amount of sweat, and for a few minutes they sat there in silence, neither of them daring to address what was happening. The wine eventually broke through her normal reservations, the blonde daring to rest her head on his shoulder, a small, secretive smile of her own appearing as she leaned her body into his. The action inspired a blush of his own, but he managed to keep his eyes focused on the sky, not wanting to seem more vulnerable than he had already revealed.
“Just so you know, tomorrow this didn’t happen.”
“Way ahead of you.”
There they sat for the remainder of the night, taking in the sight for all it offered all while indulging in a fluttering, comforting, dizzying feeling they would never admit by the light of day.
