@rivaltrainerwally
The woman who gave him her blanket is nice. A little sharp around the edges, a little strange, but nice. She introduced herself as Malva. Wally recognized the name; recognized it, but he can’t remember from where. Maybe he’ll ask her if he remembers to in the morning.
They’re sharing the bench now, Malva’s Talonflame stretched out comfortably along the bottom of it at their feet. He’s grateful. It would have been a long, cold night otherwise. He thinks she’s asleep, leaning against the arm of the bench with her eyes closed, but he doesn’t want to risk waking her up to find out for sure. He doesn’t mind the uncertainty. There’s something about the cold night and blanket wrapped around his shoulders that brings a false sense of security. He thinks there are worse people he could confess his thoughts to.
The pokecenter is quiet, and he feels a once content, and as though the world is so impossibly big it will swallow him whole. “My parents want me to come home.” If Malva hears him, he doesn’t notice. He continues anyway. “They’ll never say anything, but I can tell. They’re worried and I’ve been.. gone for a long time. I think it’s been something like a year.”
He draws the blanket closer around his shoulders and settles more comfortably on the bench. “I’ve been avoiding them on purpose.” He confesses. “I don’t know how to tell them I don’t want to come home. I’m scared if I do… then I’ll get sucked back in and never leave again.” It doesn’t make he feel better to say it out loud, but at least he said it. The pokecenter is still quiet, and so are his companions. Malva is a good listener, Wally decides, weather or not she’s actually listening is pretty irrelevant.
It’s only because the Pokemon center is still active and other people keep coming in and out that Malva isn’t asleep. But that’s probably for the best. The bench isn’t the most comfortable place to lie down and waking up with a sore neck isn’t on her list of things to do. Still, resting her eyes a bit doesn’t hurt.
The soft voice of her company catches her attention. She slowly opens her eyes and turns to face him. This doesn’t sound like her business, but by telling her, Wally’s made it her business. She sits up, rolling the stiffness out of her shoulders before pulling up her legs onto the bench.
“And where is home for you?” she asks, voice carefully casual. Wally doesn’t seem fond of talking about the subject, so pushing too far might e a mistake. Why he even started talking about it is a mystery. Perhaps he thought she wasn’t actually listening. It can make it far easier to talk that way.
She leans a little closer, wrapping her arms loosely around her knees as she watches Wally carefully. It’s hard to guess his age, but he looks young, and there’s an unfortunate stab of compassion that she can’t quite ignore. “If you’ve been gone this long, surely they know that you can make it on your own. You seem to be doing alright to me.”
