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“No.”
“C’mon, it’s raining outside!”
“You have an umbrella. You’ll be fine.”
“You like it?” The girl twirls it deftly, spraying water into the porch.
“It’s pink.”
It’s also keeping you dry, so no…I don’t like it.
Bea sighed, making sure to let her visitor just how much of an inconvenience she was being. It wasn’t often she got random knocks to her door, and certainly not at night in the pouring rain. The one time it happens and it had to be one of her least favourite people.
Of course.
“I totally forgot my phone charger though! I’ll be juuuust a few minutes while I charge up, then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Bea isn’t fazed by the plea she’s given, seeing through it like the deceit it is.
“Klara, you had to pass by the Pokémon centre to get here. They have phones and electricity.”
The poison type trainer pouted in response, but didn’t look any worse for wear. She smiles even. A fake, insincere expression of happiness that is beyond pushing it when it comes to Bea’s patience. Smiles and Bea have a strange relationship.
She seldom dons them in public but if they’re revealed they’re 100% genuine. Reserved for those who’ve truly earned her respect as a trainer. The girl standing before her is decidedly not among them.
And she never will be. Klara is as poisonous as the Pokémon she adores.
“Not like I remember any of my numbers, silly. Besides, then I wouldn’t have got to see one of my bestest friends ever!”
“We’re not friends.”
“Sure, Jelly-Bea.”
“Calling me that is making me less likely to let you in.”
“Ooooh, so there’s a chance you’ll let me in?”
“…”
Klara was one of the few people that knew of Bea’s penchant for the sweeter things in life, the nickname a dire reminder that she needed to be more careful. Of all the people to find out, Klara was as far from the top as could be.
“Just five minutes, won’t even know I’m here.”
“I’m doing nothing of the sort.” Bea doesn’t take her eyes off of the trainer before her. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, I know what you’re like.”
“Fantastic!”
Bea bit back her comments on how that wasn’t a compliment but she knew full well Klara hadn’t taken them as such. She watched as the gym leader in training skipped in like she owned the place, shaking her umbrella all over the floor. Asking her to clean it up would be pointless too.
She might play the role of the airhead but I know better. She’s sharper and deadlier than most I train with.
“Aren’t you going to offer me tea or something?” Klara has plugged in her phone charger to the nearest socket, the Rotom flickering briefly as it decided to wake up.
Lazy thing, just like her.
“I’m waiting.” She snaps her fingers in a way that she knows Bea finds at the height of disrespect. Well Bea isn’t playing her games, not tonight, not ever.
“By the time I boil the kettle and set everything up, your 5 minutes will be over.”
“Aren’t I your guest?”
“And it’s on my kindness as a host to not kick you out,” Bea measured. “I extend it on the basis you might scrape together enough resolve to get yourself a gym of your own. I don’t want any more bad blood between us if that’s the case.”
Klara laughs in response, a shrill, fake soprano trill that is also tailor made to get under her skin.
“My brother is sleeping upstairs. If you wake him I won’t be happy with you.”
“Hey, you haven’t ever been happy with me, what’s the difference?”
Bea can only frown as she kicks off her shoes, getting mud on more of the floor than necessary.
“Oh don’t give me that look,” Klara exclaims when the glare becomes more focused. “Not like you ever wear shoes. Bet you track mud into all sorts of people’s houses, silly!”
“…” Bea has to concede that point, but it doesn’t mean she deliberately sprays dirt and water onto random floors like modern art. Leave that to a Yamper.
“And hey if you’re saying that it means you actually do believe I’ll get a gym one day! You’re sweet.” If Klara is attempting to be endearing by staring into her eyes it doesn’t work, but Bea knows better than to believe that. A gesture to intimidate.
Eyes with no soul behind, a true narcissist.
“Whether or not you get a gym isn’t my concern, only that Stow-on-Side never falls below you in the rankings.”
Bea sits opposite Klara, perching on the edge of a chair. A funhouse mirror of Klara’s lazy reclination on furniture that isn’t her own.
“You really are a good rival, Jelly-Bea. Pushing us both further and further.”
“That might be the most sincere thing I’ve heard you say.”
Klara attempts to speak, shower her with praises no doubt, but Bea cut her off before the drivel can be set in motion.
“It’s entirely by coincidence. Don’t go thinking I’ve changed my mind about you. I still don’t like you.”
“You’ve never made it obvious as to why.”
Those big sad eyes again; Bea is sickened. Not even at the blatantly false display of cowering she’s given but the fact someone would stoop so low to do so. A stark contrast to her policy of standing strong in the face of adversity.
“The fact is that I don’t and that should be enough.” Bea sighed, casting her mind back (though not once daring to let Klara out of her sight). “We only trained together for a few years on the Armour Isles and in that time I’ve never met someone like you.”
“Aww, Bea…”
“…Someone as annoying, fake, and outright toxic to the people around them.”
“Oh…well you still know how to kill a moment, I’ll give you that.” Klara pouts, Bea ignores. A story of their entire relationship. "And a few years, really? We've totally known each other since we were young. Childhood besties!"
“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you." While it was true Bea has known Klara for a much longer time than she was comfortable with, the pink haired girl wasn't wrong. That didn't stop her poison from trying to seep into every facet of their relationship. "You’re a sociopath with no morality. You’ll happily cast anyone aside who isn’t useful, be it person or Pokémon. We may have known each other a while but I've never felt like you've been honest with me.”
“This isn’t about that dumb Kubfu is it?” Klara runs her hands through her hair, adjusting the Dustox headband Bea has grown to loathe. They’re not even native to the mainland and Bea never wants to see one again just because of the association.
“You left it to die!”
“Pshhh, it was fine, they’re tough.” The way the poison trainer flippantly waves her hand like she’s discussing the weather angers Bea far more than she lets on.
“You left it out in the rain and the dark. Be grateful I didn’t decide to reciprocate your gesture.”
“What can I say?” Klara says, stretching. “It’s not a poison type so it had no value to me. Better off with someone who’ll like it and treat it right, right?”
“Yes, and you could’ve returned it to Master Mustard like a normal person.” Bea crosses her legs on the chair, if anything to stop her being tempted to kick her guest in the shins.
Don’t play her games, Bea. That’s what she wants. That’s what she always wants.
“But instead you tossed it away like teddy bear.”
“It looks like a one.”
“It’s a living creature.”
“So’s most things.”
“…Your point?”
“Don’t have one,” Klara admits without a hint of shame. “Just letting you know where I stand.”
“Of course you are.”
“Hey, maybe you’re right about meeeee, and I’m just a mean old sociopath without a shred of good in my heart? It’s made me incredibly popular on my social media accounts. Popularity pays.”
“No kidding. You’ve got a hoard of older male fans lusting after your body after you post bath time picture after bath time picture of you in nothing but a towel. You’re barely 18, but you have no shame.”
“Fame and shame don’t go hand in hand, Jelly-Bea. I loooove my fans just as much as they love me.”
“They’d buy your damn bathwater if you sold it.”
“…Not a bad idea, thanks.”
Bea pinched the bridge of her nose.
“That wasn’t a legitimate business proposition but whatever. If people are dumb enough to buy it then good for them.”
“Gotta pay them bills somehow.”
Pretty sure the ad revenue on your 20 or so media accounts lets you live the high life you’ve accustomed yourself to. Arceus forbid you ever lose it. I don’t know how you’d even begin to cope.
“Of course.”
Silence fell as the two eyed each other. Klara feigning relaxation as she lay back on the sofa, Bea not giving her the pleasure of an easy rest as she bored holes at the person opposite. Each having reason to dislike the other, each different in their approach.
Be it the subterfuge of poison, slowly infiltrating the mind and body, or the direct and mighty stand of fighting, never bowing of their own will.
“We’re not so different, you and I, y’know.”
“…How do you figure?” Bea knows it’s a trap but as long as she’s aware of it she’ll never fall for it. Not again.
“Well…we’ve both got a headband with a Pokémon inspiration?” Klara twiddled the wings on her Dustox band experimentally. Bea rubbed the ears on her own just the same. “What’s it even supposed to be? Like a Tepig, or a Scorbunny, or…?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Kinda, that’s why I asked, silly!”
“It is what it is.”
“If you don’t know then that’s fine too, you’re not an encyclopaedia.”
“Mmhmmm.”
In a way the headbands were more telling of their opposition than their similarity, at least in Bea’s head. Klara’s was white and hers was black. Their different philosophies and ethics were diametrically the same. Even the highlights of pink and blue to Bea’s orange and midnight purple were far from each other on the colour wheel.
“Anything else enlightening you’ve got to say?”
“We’re both wearing masks, aren’t we?” Said innocently enough but cutting all the same. “I’m just more honest about it than you.”
“If being more honest about being a terrible person is a good thing then I have nothing more to say to you.”
“You say that buuuut,” Klara points a finger to the centre of both their chests. “You’ve always got more to say to me.”
“Nothing ever gets through to you.”
“We’re just on different wavelengths is all. Doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“Tell that to Kubfu.”
“It’s not like you have yours either? What happened? I come by one day to Mustard and you’re just gone…not even a goodbye to your bestest friend!”
The fake tears are good enough to pass as the Pokémon move. No wonder so many people believe her sob stories.
“I like Avery more than I like you, and that’s saying something.”
“Tch, that guy considers us rivals!” She leans in like it’s some sort of interesting secret. Bea doesn’t humour her. “Can you imagine, me and him?”
“He’s got a type advantage on you, you’re right. He’s too good for you.”
“Trust you to suck the fun out of it, you know what I meant ♪.”
“Always.”
“…So your fake brother is upstairs then? Bet he’s grown since I last saw him.”
“My brother is sleeping, as I said, Klara. You will not disturb him. In fact,” Bea continues, ignoring Klara’s jibe about their familial bond, “If it were up to me you wouldn’t get to see him again.”
“That’s not super-duper cool at all, Jelly-Bea! I just wanna say hi is all.”
“He’s asleep,” Bea reiterated.
As Klara stands, Bea stands with her. They both sit, the warning clear. Klara is not to go upstairs.
A smirk on her painted lips gives her away, though Bea is aware she’s meant to see it.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“You do? I thought Avery was the psychic, heehee!”
“You even touch the banisters, stairs, or the floor surrounding the area, and I’ll break your arm.”
“Sheesh, alright! Your spirit buddy gets to go naptime.” With the rebuttal, Klara moved to inspecting her perfect nails with Bea continuing to eye her. With not much less than contempt in the fighting leader’s eyes, Klara knows now isn’t the time and concedes there will be other opportunities in future.
“Things like that are why I don’t like you. Needless cruelty.”
“I thought you hated me? Just plain old ‘not liking’ isn’t that strong now, is it?
“Hating requires me to dedicate more of my mind to you than I’m willing. Not liking you is a fair substitute.”
Bea is proud of the comeback, for once earning herself a rare display of Klara’s actual face. A venomous streak revealed as her opponent’s eyes burn, if but for the briefest of seconds. It’s gone by the time Bea has blinked again, and to the uninformed it was merely a trick of the light.
Bea is nothing if not informed.
“Your five minutes are up.”
“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t turn the wall switch on?”
“No.”
“That I didn’t plug it in properly?”
“No.”
“That I…”
“Please leave, Klara.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Klara exhales all too dramatically for someone’s only been settled for a few minutes.
And it’s already long enough.
She slips her shoes back on, sweeping up both phone and charger in a single fluid motion. Bea watches as Klara reclaims the umbrella, pausing as she interests herself with the pictures on her wall.
“Klara.”
“Just seeing your ‘family’, don’t mind me.”
A picture of Allister and Bea at a park in summer, ice creams in hand. One of Bea’s personal favourites, so of course Klara would zero in on it.
“I mind.” Bea heard the air quotes in her voice even without her fingers following along in the real world. “Please leave, I’ve had a long day.”
“I’m suuuure you have, you training nut! Live a little!” Klara is pushed to the door by Bea, not bothering to further the discussion.
“Goodbye, Klara. I hope you have a safe journey.”
She doesn’t, but she doesn’t wish harm on her either. Hurt only extends hurt, not solving it. In her philosophy anyway.
“Thanks for having me, Jelly-Bea!” The umbrella is popped out once again, and Klara turned to go.
“You’re welcome.”
“…We both wear masks, silly.” Bea resisted the urge to shudder as Klara’s voice briefly returns to its normal tone, devoid of prissiness. “To think your world view and version of morality are absolute is arrogant. I hope you realise that. We’re really not so different.”
“I’ll never believe that.”
“You don’t need to,” Klara insisted, staring off into the dark of a sleeping Stow-on-Side. “I’m the only one who really understands you. We are friends, whether you think so or not.”
With that, the filter returns. A seamless act.
“Invite me over again sometime! I had fun!”
“I bet you did.”
Klara has already skipped away into the night and Bea is left talking to the air itself as the rain continues to fall.
The door is shut with slightly more force than necessary, and Bea locks it tightly before she has to clean up the mess her ‘friend’ has left behind.
As if we’re alike.