Chapter Text
They were getting less scarce. The trees that passed the window of the train car. From Wyndon, there were an extensive variety of buildings that towered over him as the train passed. Some had illuminated billboards that he recalled watching for hours once the sun had gone down from the window of his hotel. Others held a great number of windows, some with lights and others with the shutters closed. There was also a diverse selection of people that he’d just manage to catch in the corner of his eye. Each carried a different face, a different gait. Some walked alone, listening to music or rushing to a destination on the other side of the city. Others walked in herds, in large or small groups. They each held a different story. A different set of memories.
Victor saw the scenery change, very slowly, from the large and intimidating buildings of Wyndon to the rustic, homely feel of Postwick. He was getting close.
His memories were fuzzy sometimes. Memories of his childhood would attempt to resurface, bubbling to the top of his brain so hopefully, only to sink back to the depths of his mind very pitifully. He remembers Postwick. The time spent chasing Rookiedees near the mouth of Route One, the little barbecues the neighbors were kind enough to share with him and his mother, the everything. Those fuzzy, vague ideas just managed to reappear. A small smile played at his lips at the thought.
It’s been two years since he had become Champion.
A tiring job, really, yet it wasn’t one he regrets holding. There were familiar buildings that the train passed, with the natural design and moss that crawled up the sides of each wall. He felt his heart beat just a bit quicker, but only a bit. He visits as often as he could. He understood Leon completely, so many companies were so eager to partner with him, so many photoshoots he was forced to take part in (his camera shyness slowly evolved into some sort of monster, turning into a disease that forced him to give an exhausted sigh at the very sight of a camera). He only had about four days to relax until his job swept him away to a new destination.
There wouldn’t be many people expecting him. It was supposed to be a bit of a surprise, though he couldn’t think of an extensive list of people that would be completely overjoyed at his stay. His mother, of course. She would give him her signature hug, quite the crusher she was. Sonia, too, would give him a few polite words. A few curt words as well. She was funnily blunt at times, though it was never an issue for Victor. She helped him quite a bit in his original journey through the entirety of Galar, yet he was always so nervous to thank her personally. He would take the time to do that. His heart beat just a bit faster. And—
The train gave a slow stop, snapping him out of his glazed gaze out the window. He stared to the left side of the train, watching the window display the entrance to the town. Why was he so nervous? Despite being the place he had hoped to take refuge in, his hands twitched in his lap. Grabbing his bag, he stood from the table. His bag, after how many years of having it, was beginning to fall apart. The straps were rushedly sewn together. Little bits of wood had begun to peel away. He had it almost all of his life, and only now it had begun to demonstrate its age. The thought almost made him laugh as he made his way off of the train.
The train station was nearly empty, just two people sitting near the entrance. He gave a smile and a little wave as the two people hushedly stared. People, he had learned, loved to latch onto his little quirks. His nervousness had slowly become his persona, very much against his own will. Not that he minded, he couldn’t say it was completely incorrect.
Outside, the morning sun danced around the town of Wedgehurst. The town seemed so big back then. Just two years ago. He marched around the town with the Scorbunny that followed his every step so confidently. He was so excited, so nervous. He promised himself he’d meet his mother first thing, but the laboratory that stood so prominently at the edge of the town made him nearly overjoyed. With one uneasy step after the other, he walked towards the lab.
He wasn’t expecting a surprise party planned for him. Once he stepped inside, he wouldn’t see a flutter of balloons, a gathering of people with faces he couldn’t match names to, exclaiming a “welcome back!”. Part of him had hoped it, yet he wasn’t a complete fool.
Instead, he saw Sonia staring so intently at a book she held at the edge of the room. Her Yamper slept at her feet, his tail wagging. Perhaps he was having a dream where he chased groups of Skwovets around a prairie. His mouth began to drool, his tail wagging a little faster, further proving his cute little hypothesis. He inched a bit further, closing the door behind him. Nothing, almost no response. She made a point to grab a highlighter and circle a section in the book. Not with a pen, no. She uses a highlighter to circle a passage. She was in her element, and when she was, she would drift away from reality.
He took another step, peering at what the cover of the book entailed. Her Yamper’s tail stopped wagging. Once he woke, he saw Victor sneaking into the room. Predictably, he gave loud, excited barks that filled the previously silent room as his little legs carried him toward the boy. Sonia jumped. Victor gave a little laugh as he bent down to pet the dog. He was fairly old, yet he still had so much energy.
“Oh, it’s you…!” She sounded more surprised than pleased, setting her book on the table.
“You could stand to sound happier, don’t you know?” He tried to joke as he stood back up. He nervously scratched his cheek, abashedly looking away. “It was, ah, just a rib though. It’s good to see you.” His accent was so much thicker than every other citizen in Postwick. He got much from his father.
“Nothings changed but your appearance by the look of it,” She walked toward Victor. She used to be so tall, much taller than him two years ago. She stood directly in front of him, almost sizing him up. “Look at you…! Loads taller than I ever expected. You and Hop, at the very least.”
“Where…?” He glanced around the room. Hop wasn’t the only reason he had returned to his hometown. It was just because he needed a break. Yet the thought of a long and calming conversation relieved him. “Where does your assistant seem to be?” He hadn’t seen him in over a year. He’d been gone for a complete two years. He’d talk to him in shorter phone calls, talking about little nothings that barely managed to carry the conversation. He came back to the area just last year, but Hop had been busy.
“Oh, at nearly eight in the morning? You won’t find him here,” She waved off dismissively. She gave a knowing little grin, though Victor couldn’t quite say what she was so knowing about. “You’ll probably find him drooling in his bed by now.”
“Oh, I forgot how early it was…” He woke up too early, around three or four, to get to Postwick at an acceptable time. Perhaps he should have waited just a bit later, to meet Hop in time.
“Not to shoo you away, O’ Grand Champion, but you didn’t come straight here did you?” She placed a hand on her hip. “Sorry that Hop isn’t here, but you really should head home. Your mother brags about you so much, she’d be just chuffed to see you.” He gave a small smile. His mother had carried him through his entire life, he’d have to thank her too. Perhaps after thanking Sonia. He could thank Sonia now, but something stuck in his throat as he attempted to express his gratefulness.
“Right, right,” He pulled his gray hat farther down his forehead. “Alright, uhm, thank you.” He tried to leave, the Yamper wagging his tail even harder as he tried to push forward Victor.
“Sure, go see her quickly, yeah?” She said. He wasn’t courageous enough to elaborate on his gratitude, so he saw fit to just leave.
He tried to reach his mother’s quickly. It’s been just over a year since he slept in his bed. As he traveled the entirety of Galar, he booked various nights at hotels. But as he neared his house, the familiar scenery made nostalgia rush through his body. At the top of the hill, looking over the entirety of the town, stood his home. Though old, the house stood proudly as the sun’s rays bounced off the roof. A fountain for the Rookiedees sat near the edge of the walls. Fencing traced his backyard. It previously held Wooloo, though most of them had been given away. With only his mother in the house, it became near impossible to manage them all on her own. Much has changed, yet nothing had changed at all.
Opening the door, he caught sight of his mother. She stood in the kitchen to his right, chopping something on the cutting board. The house the same as he had left it. An undersized red jacket flung over the couch, the television on the same talk show his mother watched just to tease the host, even the smell of lingering smoke from the fireplace rushed to his nose. At the sound of the door closing, his mother gave a turn and a surprised huff.
“Oh, Victor!” She rushed quickly to his side, squeezing him ever so tightly. He felt unstretched joints crack at her hug, his eyebrows furrowing.
“M...Mum,” His voice was strained, he was very nearly suffocating.
“Oh, I had no idea you were coming…!” She seemed to hug even harder, his spine practically crying out in retaliation. “You should have told me, I would have cleaned up a bit more!” She finally let him go, letting him take a large gulp of breath. Perhaps it would have been better to let her know ahead of time, but the look of happiness on her face made him reconsider. She sniffed the air and gave a little gasp. Making way toward the kitchen, she lowered the burner and looked into the pantry.
“You’re cooking so early?” He allowed himself to walk further into the household. The Munchlax that sat on the rug made no effort to welcome him as his mother did, though she made a little pleased grunt at his appearance.
“I’m preparing a roast, the neighbors invited me for lunch,” She said as she grabbed a bottle of oil and set it down on the counter. She says ‘the neighbors’ as if they hadn’t known Hop’s family for years. “Oh, you should come, Victor! They’d be just delighted to see you!” He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought of making himself seen at their home. It’s been a proper minute since last they had spoken. Hop’s family wasn’t especially large, but anxieties began to build up in his mind. Before, he would stay silent as the rest of the adults would talk about the little things he didn’t care to pay attention to. He and Hop would have separate conversations, giggling about nothings that seemed almost like everything at the time. It would be different, now that he was older.
“I wouldn’t mind,” He said nonetheless.
The book he held must have slid out of his hand while he was asleep. It had various points of history in which people were saved by Pokémon in which held numerous examples. Humans, he had begun to understand, were extraordinarily fragile. The Slowpoke who saved a dehydrating city from a drought, Conkeldurr teaching humans how to create concrete about two thousand years ago, there were too many instances to count. Instead of keeping to his studies, he felt it better to take a nap instead. He hadn’t remembered when he fell asleep, so waking up was quite a surprise.
The dew in the Slumbering Weald danced upon his skin. As a pillow, Zacian lay contentedly near the stone structure that still stood tall despite its years of intense wear. Their head sat in between their paws, maybe patiently waiting for him to wake. He felt their blue fur brush on his neck, the slow tide of Zacian’s breathing lifting his head gently every few moments. He shifted upon the body of his partner, wiping the drool that sort of dribbled from the side of his mouth with his sleeve. This alerted Zacian, their tail wagging very slowly up and down, patting the dirt they lay on.
“Mmph…” He tiredly ran his hands through his hair, barely able to keep his eyes open. “Did I fall asleep on you, Zaci…?” Unsurprisingly, they gave a frustrated huff through their nose, almost as if they were saying ‘Harumph’. He reached for the book that sat by his Pokémon. The World: A Brief History of Humankind’s Interaction with Pokémon. It was not only assigned, but recommended by Sonia as a thoughtful read, yet the only thoughts that managed to traverse his mind were thoughts of how else he could spend his time.
He could almost say that he truly discovered his appreciation for Pokémon through Sonia’s teachings, understanding each one’s biology, how they work. Yet there were moments where the teachings were mundane. Her studies weren’t nearly as meticulous as this; in fact, she went on a journey of self-discovery to earn her position.
Zacian stood, causing Hop to fall onto his back. He supposes she must have worked just as hard. Their nose nudged the Pokéball that lay on the ground near the stone structure. He had put it there after letting Zacian out for just a breather, though he supposes his ulterior motives of using them as a rest became seen. It slowly rolled to his side.
“Alright, okay,” He grabbed the Pokéball and stood up, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m reading the atmosphere. I’ll go do things, yeah?” Zacian gave another huff, though this time it was of complacency. He clicked the button, and very simply, Zacian entered the ball. It was so much easier, so much different than two years ago. He remembers how his heart rattled inside his chest, he remembers having to chase them down just hoping they wouldn’t hurt anyone in the process, he remembers the look of visceral worry on Victor's face when he bolted after the rampaging legendary.
His nose twitched. He stood quietly, gripping the Pokéball in his right hand. It was early in the morning, or at least that was the time he last saw before he fell asleep. The sun very barely attempted to shine through the leaves of the forest, though the structure that honored the heroes of the past was the only place that was lucky enough to receive sun.
Leaving the Weald was always hard, not due to the Pokémon that littered the area, but because it was just too difficult to see anything. He could have sworn that the mist had gotten worse, the fog had spread throughout the woods had nearly become opaque. Yet he left nonetheless, passing through the gate that lay open near Victor’s house. He’d head home, grab the textbook for Sonia (that he hadn’t finished reading, but he could manage to make something up), and rush to the laboratory. But as he rushed to the house, he heard voices bolster from inside.
Some small fits of laughter would erupt before another voice would interject. He didn’t think to pause, opening the door to his family. A burst of laughter erupted from the table. Then suddenly, without warning, they all stopped once he was spotted. As if he were a cold wind that blew their ignited conversation away. And there say Victor at the very end of the table, almost shrinking at his gaze.
“...Hey Victor,” He said from the door, almost incredulously after the table paused upon Hop’s entrance. He, in fact, forgot to feel overjoyed at the sight of him. It was a strange sort of feeling, he remembers a time when the very sight of him made his heart pound in his ears. But now, he felt differently.
“‘Lo, Hop,” Victor replied. His voice was deeper. It was distinct, he thought. Only two years ago, his voice was high. Now it was held a very clear tenor, the greeting sort of echoing in his mind. His voice was still soft, he noticed.
“Oh, where have you been all morning?” His mother had asked him. It was accusatory, but there was a playful tone. “While you were away, a good friend decided to pop by!” So he did. There was a beat.
“Uh, well—” Hop tried to start.
“Ah, there’s…!” Victor attempted to talk as well. They both paused. Hop gripped on the doorknob, his grin slowly becoming more forced. Their family looked on with amused expressions, almost wanting to urge the two on. “Your grandfather was just telling me of a new coffee shop that opened in Wedgehurst.” His grandfather nodded very knowingly, as he had begun to suspect all grandfathers did.
“Just opened how long ago?” His grandfather asked.
“It was a month or two ago, yeah?” His grandmother continued the conversation as Hop only thought to stand at the entrance of his own home while his friend of more than a few years sitting at the table in place of himself.
“Hop, could we go?” Victor asked. Another pause. Not that he enjoyed littering the air with these beats of silence, but he found himself thinking much more than he used to.
“Er… now?”
“Sure!” His voice displayed very clear excitement, but sweat poured down his temple. His mouth twitched. He was very obviously searching for a way out of the situation. No doubt, his family was bombarding him with an innumerable amount of personal questions, as they were very prone to doing.
“Sure, sounds like a plan,” He adjusted his jacket, pulling it closer to his chest. Quickly Victor stood from the table. He noticed how his smile was so much more strained, he was uncomfortable.
“Oh, leaving already?” Hop’s mother said.
“I’ve been wantin’ to take him to the place for a bit now, anyway,” He hadn’t, but he was a much quicker liar than he used to be. Before he’d stammer over his every word trying to just get the fib out. He began to exit the house, knowing that Victor was just behind him. “We’ll be seeing you.” Victor gave a polite wave as Hop closed the door, leaving their family inside. After a pause, they both gave an exhausted sigh.
“Thanks, Hop,” Victor’s smile was less forced, it was easy-going. It was an honest relief, seeing him look like himself.
“Mm,” He said, scratching the back of his neck. Could he think of nothing to say? He had known Victor for more than half of his life, yet words failed to leave his mouth. Words used to come to easy to Hop, conversations would flow like nothing. Now, he struggled to carry the conversation over the phone. “Let me take you to the new café.”
“Oh, you don’t have to, really!” He tried to seem polite, yet unbeknownst to Victor, this only further backed Hop into a corner. What was he going to do? Was he to say ‘Oh brill! Well, be seeing you!’.
“It’s been a right long while since I last saw you, hasn’t it?” And the prospect of going to tea with Victor didn’t displease him all that much either. They’ve both gotten older, and as a result, they’ve grown apart. Or perhaps, it was Hop who set that distance there in the first place. “I wouldn’t mind showing you the place.” Surprising him, Victor looked excited. There was a bit of a spark in his eyes, something Hop hadn’t seen in person in quite a long time.
“Right!” He said, gripping the straps of his bag. With one glance, he could tell that the thing was falling to bits. Parts of the wood began to chip, he could see the parts of the fabric peeling off on the sides of the wooden bag. He would never let that bag go, would he? There was nothing sentimental behind the thing, and yet he seemed to cling to the antique. “I suppose you could lead the way then?”
“Sure, it’s not too far,” The walk there was quiet. It was near silent other than the numerous greetings that Victor would get from people passing by. So, perhaps it wasn’t completely silent. Part of him wished for a silent walk. Victor would try to start a conversation but would be interrupted by well-meaning people giving their howdy-do's. When they finally reached the café, Hop caught a glance at the laboratory. He was supposed to meet Sonia at twelve today.
“You coming in?” Victor said.
“...Yeah, sure!” He said after a moment, walking in after Victor. The café was packed with various people. With its new introduction into Wedgehurst, a lot of the townspeople spent most of their time at the contemporary establishment. People with laptops sat alone at some tables. At other tables, there were loud conversations with large groups of people, laughing about things Hop didn’t care to listen to.
“A bit small…” Victor mused as he looked around the place. Perhaps it was true for him, but the café was large enough to fit the entire town. He thought to mention it, the fact that his time of Wyndon was making him quite the city boy. It would be a joke, but something stopped him. And so he walked to the counter and ordered them both food. “Do you know—”
“Avocado toast without the red peppers with a glass of milk, yeah?” It wasn’t anything Hop would hope to order. Very far from it, yet he had known for a while that Victor’s tastes were quite peculiar. There was a pause.
“I’ll get us a table,”
“Sounds top,” Parts of him hadn’t changed. The small, insignificant parts that Hop would gush over when he was younger, but the parts Victor kept to himself. He would eat anything you gave to him but was secretly picky. He would begrudgingly stay in a conversation he hated, just to seem polite. When he was nervous, he’d unknowingly get louder. Those traits seemed to stay, but there were certain traits he parted with when he became champion.
Nonetheless, he ordered the food and brought it to the table. Victor chose a booth near the window. Sun shone through the window, beaming onto the table. Victor trudged through his bag. He looked happy. It was a different kind of happy than the one Hop was used to. His smile was constant, and something different shone in his eyes. He had changed so much; Hop wasn’t there for any of it. As he sat, Victor quickly pushed his bag away.
“I got our—”
“How’s it—” Victor quickly set his head down on the table, his forehead making the table give a little clunk. Hop allowed himself a small chuckle, watching Victor struggle to talk. They were prone to interrupting each other. Hop placed the food on the table as Victor fidgeted with his hands. He used to do that often, play and make little shapes with his hands to avoid eye-contact. Yet, Victor saw no trouble looking at Hop directly, reminding him that his eye color shone a deep brown. “How are… your studies going?”
“Oh they’re going,” He could only manage a nervous grin, his eyebrow slightly furrowed at the thought. The words he’d receive from Sonia for missing the day would be curt. He was used to it. There was a time in which he tried to take in all kinds of knowledge from Sonia, outside sources, anything. Everything seemed so mundane now. “Sonia’s as strict as ever, though that prolly isn’t anything you didn’t expect.”
“You won’t take up the mantle anytime soon, hm?” Victor asked. Hop managed to let out a doubtful chuckle.
“Maybe when she gets as old as that mother of hers— ah, don’t tell anyone I said that,” Victor laughs. It was louder than it used to be. It didn’t sound forced, but there was a small hint of doubt that he felt. It had been too long, hadn’t it? His laugh sounded completely different, he couldn’t differentiate what was real and fake. Despite the apprehension, there was still a bit of pride that surged through him at the tone. Out of habit, perhaps, that he felt that way whenever Victor allowed himself to laugh.
“I suppose I’ll just have to wait a bit longer until I see you in the whole outfit,” Victor pushed the conversation farther. He would have to wait a long while, he thought. He hadn’t dared to say it out loud to dim the conversation. Victor, with a hum, stared out the window and gave a smile. His heart pulsed only a bit, following suit. The sun was at its peak as the townspeople walked from one edge of the window to the other, disappearing just as quickly as they had appeared.
Suddenly, diverting his attention, Victor laughed even louder. It wasn’t a laugh he hadn’t heard from Victor before. His smile was wide, it was there . It wasn’t hidden behind a sleeve or stifled away before anyone could notice. It was there, and Hop could see it clearly. He tried to stifle his laughter, there were people from other tables who began to stare, but Victor’s laugh was nearly infectious.
“What on earth are you laughing about?” Hop asked, a light chuckle escaping his lips. Victor tried to talk a bit more, though his fits prevented him from doing so clearly.
“Just— Just imagining you with the little lab coat, and the swirly glasses,” It was almost unbearable to listen to, his face only slightly heating up. Yet they both laughed, the image floating in both of their minds. He hadn’t thought about his future in such a way since his new dream was set. The idea was pleasing. Not exactly the persona that Victor had established, but to become a professor on his own. He had almost forgotten why he tried to become one, as if Victor hadn’t played an integral part in the decision.
As Victor began to calm down, Hop found himself smiling too. He hadn’t realized how often he had forced his smile, how
“Laugh more often, Victor,” He said, Hop’s smile still clear. His very real, his very genuine smile. “It suits you!” Victor’s smile was real too, he could tell. He gave a thoughtful little hum, turning to the window once again. Compliments like that would embarrass Victor, his cheeks flushing a wonderful shade of pink, but now it only widened his smile.
“Being a Pokémon Professor is nothing I expected for you, but I should have seen it coming!”
“What do you mean?”
“Well you, ah,” He suddenly began to stammer. He stuttered, Hop noticed, much like he used to. “You were always knowledgeable about things like Pokémon I think. You’re smart, I suppose.” Victor took a sip of milk from a straw. Hop stared at the table, as he figured that looking anywhere else would be way less interesting.
“Mmph,” Victor nearly sputtered his milk as an idea popped into his head. “Hold on.” He raised a finger. Hop peered over, watching Victor trudge through his bag a bit more. And proudly, over the table, he held a rock. They both sat there for a moment, watching the rock bask in the sunlight that fluttered through the café windows.
“...Hm,” Hop hummed after a long pause, watching the rock for a moment longer. The stone was round, astoundingly smooth. There was a light blue tint to the rock, though it was only really noticeable in the light. And those were the only discernible features of the stone. It was a rock.
“It’s a lucky stone!” He said, leaning toward Hop. There was obvious excitement in his voice. “It’s supposed to be a geode. A market stall at Stow-on-Side sold them! Said that it would bring anyone who carried it good luck, so long as they didn’t break it!” In short, Victor was unknowingly swindled out of his money to buy a rock. Hop opened his mouth, almost tempted to explain what the problem was, but he closed it just as quickly. The excitement in his voice was almost rare years ago. To hear it just as easily made something in him melt.
“I thought you could use it!” He extended his arms, showing Hop the very uninteresting and very unimportant rock.
“Me?” Hop asked, almost in disbelief, as if there was any other ‘you’ Victor could be referring to.
“Sure!” He nodded. “You’re always very busy. And you’re working hard too. I don’t know if you’d want something like this, but I really only bought it because I thought of you.” He chuckled. Hop hesitantly took the gift from his hands, their fingers touching only slightly as Victor dropped the gift in his hands. He almost wanted to cradle the thing, forgetting that he could find another just outside of the building in his backyard.
“I could use the thing, let me tell you,” He said fairly loudly. He held a very normal, very characterless, commonplace rock in his hand, yet he gently held the item very close to his chest. Victor laughed, and in response, Hop couldn’t help but laugh too.
“You’re always on about my laugh,” Victor said, only a bit quieter. It was barely noticeable, but his tenor made a low rumble that made his heart flutter. “But, y’know, I quite like your laugh as well.”
I quite like your laugh as well. The phrase bounced around in his mind. He so wished it didn’t.
The night was dark and quiet, save for the occasional chirping of the bugs that sat outside in the bushes. Moonlight speckled into his room, shadows spotting parts of the floor. He hid under his sheets from the cool night air that seeped into the room. The whole house was asleep, save for him.
He liked his laugh. There was something in Victor’s voice that Hop couldn’t quite read then, yet nonetheless he still complimented his laugh. He remembers Victor’s laugh, the smile he brazenly showed him. Part of him wished to see it again, to be able to witness the smile Victor was no longer ashamed of. He remembers the stone Victor had gotten for him, and swindled or not, he bought it thinking of Hop. He remembers how the sun shone onto Victor’s face that day—how his hair turned into an exquisite caramel color that Hop wished to caress, to run his fingers through.
"...No," He muttered, hiding deeper within the covers. He wouldn't do this. These insistent thoughts, ideas, and wishes that only made him yearn for something that wouldn’t come would have to stop. He hadn’t thought this way in years, why had they only resurfaced now? He had his chance. Victor was much happier now, without Hop in his life. He turned in his bed and saw the stone that sat on his dresser. There were little bits of hope that managed to swell through his body. Only small bits.
I like your smile too. Victor said that once; what felt like a lifetime ago. When they were both young enough to dream of the adventure they’d have together, the story they’d share. Victor’s voice had gotten so deep. Only a few years ago did his voice sound high-pitched, but the rumble that his clear tenor echoed through his mind. It was low, but still held the soft tone that made Hop give a love-filled smile. His heart would only quicken at the thought.
He hummed. I quite like your laugh as well. Hop should have replied with “I love yours more”.