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Ash is starting to think that maybe he's finally lost it.
It's a bit ridiculous. After how many journeys, how many regions, how many times he's nearly died (how many times he has died), how many times the world has ended, how many times some god has torn the universe apart right in front of him, and a single bad dream and a conversation with a trusted adult is what's making him feel like reality is being broken.
His hands are around a cup of hot chocolate. His hands are not shaking. His hands are perfectly still and the only reason he's not drinking the hot chocolate and instead staring at it like it's the most interesting thing on the planet is because he's not thirsty.
The table is cold. The floor is cold, and so his bare feet are cold. The air is not cold. The air is never cold, here. The air is warm. The air is quiet.
Ash is quiet. Professor Kukui, though Ash isn't looking at him, is quiet. The room is quiet. The only Pokemon that's down off the loft is Pikachu. Pikachu is quiet.
Ash stays perfectly still, perfectly quiet. Professor Kukui doesn't say anything. Pikachu prods Ash gently, but doesn't push any more than that. No one says a word.
They all know why they're there.
Ash is not one to get nightmares, and he never has been. In the past, they would be silly, childish nightmares, nothing a drink of water and curling up in bed with his mother wouldn't fix. They were rare, and very easy to deal with.
Now, he still doesn't get nightmares often. They don't come but every handful of months. The last time he had a nightmare was in Kalos. Before everything went to- excuse his language- shit.
That's why, when he wakes up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, tangled in his blankets, with Rotom and every single one of his Pokemon staring at him in concern, he is confused.
Of course, that confusion is very muffled by the pure terror he's busy feeling. It had been a nightmare about, of all things, Kalos. He had thought he was over that. It was more than an entire month ago, for Arceus's sake!
He should be over that.
But despite that, for some reason, there he lays, awake and terrified, shaking and trembling, breaths coming fast and loud, surrounded by four concerned Pokemon and a concerned Pokedex. He can't focus on anything, he can't think of anything except red clouds and red vines and that man shouting and his chest is tight and he thinks he might throw up and his heart is beating so fast he thinks Professor Kukui can hear it from the basement and he can't breathe deeply enough to calm down and he can't control how much he's shaking and why is this happening, why is he like this, what went wrong, he thought he was alright, what is happening, why is this happening, why is th-
“Ash?”
Ash's hands are cupped around his hot chocolate. His hands are warm. His hands are shaking. His hands are warm and shaking and he can't take a sip of hot chocolate no matter how much he wants to because he knows he'll spill it and he doesn't want to add to Professor Kukui's list of worries, especially since he is currently number one on that list.
He can't find a single word to say that isn't stupid. He hopes that if he stays silent and still long enough, the Professor will sigh and give up and let him go back to bed.
He's not even sleepy enough anymore. He's certainly tired enough, but he knows he's not falling back asleep now. His nightmares are rare, but now when they do come, they keep him awake for hours and hours and he can't fall back asleep until he inevitably gets tired enough and falls asleep when he sits down at some point the next day.
He thinks it's been like this since... the Orange Islands, or maybe Johto. He thinks the first time this happened was sometime after the whole ordeal with Lugia. He feels a phantom chill of freezing cold water on his chest and his next breath catches in his throat.
With this, Professor Kukui finally breaks the silence. Quietly, as if talking to a scared prey animal, about to run away at the smallest sign of danger (Ash would never. He can't, anyways, because Pikachu is on his lap, and even if it wasn't, he feels paralyzed, stuck to the chair, like none of his muscles will respond.), the Professor whispers, “Ash?”
Ash jolts back, frozen for a moment as he forgets how to move or breathe or create a coherent thought or function at all. Finally, after an embarrassingly long few seconds of absolute loss of function, his head snaps to the ladder. Of course, Professor Kukui's face is there, peeking up over the edge of the loft, expression full of concern and what Ash recognizes as fear.
The Professor repeats his name. Ash only barely registers it in his mind as referring to him . He feels a burning in his chest and realizes he hasn't taken another breath yet and his eyes feel sore and his cheeks feel wet and he realizes that he's crying, and he doesn't know when he started, but he thinks it's been a while. His throat hurts and his stomach hurts and his chest hurts and his nose hurts and his eyes hurt and his head hurts and he still hasn't responded to the Professor and he doesn't know how.
Rotom is saying something. Professor Kukui is saying something. Ash doesn't know what they're saying or if they're saying it to him because his mind is full of nothing but his own panic and a crazy man's voice and Pikachu's cries and he can't think of anything else no matter how hard he tries. Nothing from any of his senses his staying in focus, and everything is blurry, and his heart is still pounding, and his lungs are burning, and he can feel everywhere his blankets and clothes are touching him and sending more electricity up his limbs than Pikachu's Thunderbolt, and he can't understand anything his Pokemon or Rotom or Professor Kukui are saying or if they're talking to him, and for some reason he can only feel angry, and-
Professor Kukui is suddenly next to him, holding his hand. Everything is in focus again, and though he's still crying, and he's still panicking, and he still can't think of anything but the most recent end of the world, he suddenly feels more alright.
All that, and in a moment, it's okay. Not okay, but he's in control. Somewhat.
Ash is starting to think that maybe he's finally lost it.
Well, maybe 'starting' to think is a little generous.
Ash can't help but think about all the times this has happened before, and how every single time, it's felt like he's losing his mind. Like this is it. This is the moment where he finds he can't take it anymore. Which is weird, because of course he can take it. He can always take it. It's what makes him so good at being him .
It always feels worse than the last. Every time something like this happens, where he freaks out over nothing, something he's supposed to be fine with, it's always worse than the last time. And tonight is no different.
But it just makes no sense, why does it happen? Why does it ever happen? Why does it only get worse? Why can't he just be fine? Why can't it all be over with once it's over with?
“Ash,” Professor Kukui quietly repeats. He's expecting an answer. Ash doesn't know how to give him one. “Can you talk to me?”
Ash is gripping his mug of hot chocolate. His hands are starting to hurt from the constant heat. He's happy hot chocolate is so opaque, so he can't see his reflection.
He isn't saying anything. He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't even know what he's thinking, he doesn't know what Professor Kukui wants him to say. He almost stays silent, until he locks eyes with Pikachu, who gives him the saddest little look possible, and Ash can't help but fall for the puppy eyes.
Ash inhales, an action that causes a gross little sniffling noise, because his nose is stuffed up and he is not about to get up to get a tissue. He glances up at Professor Kukui, then back down at his drink. ”I...“ His voice is quiet and cracks on that one syllable, and for a moment, he thinks he can't get another word out. ”I had a bad dream. A-about my last journey.“
His throat hurts.
Professor Kukui doesn't respond for a couple seconds. Ash doesn't want to look up, because he knows his eyes are still red and his face is all gross and he's never been good with looking people in the eye in moments like these.
Finally, Professor Kukui clears his throat. ”Do you want to... talk about it? If- if not, that's okay, but I think it could help.”
Slowly, completely unsure of himself, Ash nods.
“What happened?“
Ash shuts his eyes. The only people he's really talked to about this are his mom, his friends in Kalos, and Pikachu. He didn't think it was that big of a deal. Apparently it is. ”I. Um.“ He takes another loud, gross deep breath and opens his eyes. “How much do you know about the Kalos Crisis?”
He can hear the surprise in Professor Kukui's voice when, after a moment, he replies with, ”I've watched news broadcasts and read articles about it, why?“
Ash feels like the words are stuck in his throat. Like even though he wants to get it out, he can't. His throat is too dry and too wet at the same time, his tongue feels thick in his mouth, his lips are chapped, his nose is stuffy, his head hurts, and yet he can almost think clearly. Clearly enough to know he's thinking too much. “You know the- the trainer, that Ly-” He shuts his eyes tight again, so tight and abruptly that his eyes hurt and he sees spots on the inside of his eyelids. ”The trainer that Lysandre kidnapped. Before he jumped off the Lumiose Tower.“ He doesn't wait for Professor Kukui's response, and instead finally forces out, almost choking on the words, ”That was me.“
The room suddenly feels even quieter. The silence is more than he can bear. He can feel his hands shaking again, and his eyes are wet, and he's thinking about more than just Kalos, and he can't think straight anymore, and he doesn't know why this is happening-
Pleasantly cool hands meet his almost uncomfortably warm hands. Finally, he looks up to see Professor Kukui, clearly surprised, but even moreso, clearly concerned. Normally, Ash would dislike that look, that he can only see as pity that he doesn't need, that assumption that he's weak, but in this moment, all he can think is thank you.
He can see a million questions on Professor Kukui's lips. He can see the confusion, and then the realizations, turning in his head, but to his surprise, Professor Kukui voices none of them. (Why?) Instead, he clasps Ash's hands in his own, and Ash feels his eyes watering again. ( Why? ) ”I... didn't realize,“ Professor Kukui murmurs. ”I can understand why that's extremely upsetting.“
And this is where Ash can't help but feel like he's going a little crazy.
Ash knows other people think he's absurd.
Something crazy he knows about firsthand will come up in conversation, and he'll chime in with his story, and he's met with disbelief or concern. He doesn't know which is worse.
Disbelief, when someone clearly doesn't truly believe a word that comes out of his mouth, is a little hurtful. He's not lying. He's never lying. Sure, he might take out a few details or add in a few things to make it seem cooler, but he never tells big lies like that! But they still don't believe him.
Concern, though, that's just confusing. He tells a fun story about one of his journeys with his friends, and he's met with someone giving him a look and asking if he's okay. He just doesn't get it. Of course he's okay! And that's what he always says. And he's met with disbelief and concern. It's uncomfortable.
He remembers when Iris had asked him, right after the whole ordeal with Victini, if he was okay. He had said it sort of hurt to almost freeze to death. She looked angry. He didn't know what to say. He was more worried about Victini, anyways.
Ash knows other people, including his friends- actually, especially his friends- think he's absurd. Misty and Iris, at least, have made that abundantly clear. And he's fine with it. He just doesn't understand what they're all so worried about.
(Why?)
Ash's hands are warm from the hot chocolate. He still hasn't taken a single sip. It's got to be cooling by now. Ash's hands are cool from Professor Kukui's steadying grasp. He doesn't know how to respond to Professor Kukui's statement. The Professor is wrong. The Professor is so wrong, but Ash doesn't know why or how or what to say about it or if he even should. Because it's not ”extremely upsetting”. It's nothing. He knows it’s nothing. It's been nothing since the day after he left Kalos.
”No,“ is all he can find to say, through the fog in his mind and his clogged up throat and his cracking voice.
Professor Kukui blinks. He looks confused, and Ash can completely understand that. ”I- sorry?“
Ash purses his lips and glances away. He can't keep looking at the Professor's face.
This is starting to feel achingly familiar.
”That's not what 'm upset about,“ he mumbles, aware of how- absurd he sounds. ”It can't be.“
“It-” Professor Kukui starts to speak, but cuts himself off. Ash glances up at him, and he can't make out the expression on his face. There's definitely confusion and concern, of course, but... there's something else there. Maybe. He can never really tell. The Professor continues, “What do you mean, Ash?”
Ash doesn't know how to explain this feeling, and he never has. He's not upset because of the reason Professor Kukui thinks he is. He's upset, but no one can ever understand why, and he isn't sure he can either. He feels a spark of anger start up in his chest, and pushes it down. “I- I don't know. I don't know how to explain it but- but you're wrong. I'm not- well, I'm upset, just not 'cause of that, it's-” He shuts his eyes, and his shoulders rise. “This wasn't big enough to really make me... like this .” He opens his eyes and looks up at Kukui, and his heart is starting to pound and he's too hot and he knows he's starting to shout and he can feel the tears in his eyes again, and he feels silly. “I know it's not! I've dealt with worse and it doesn't-” He finally pulls his hands away from his mug and the Professor's hands, and brings his arm up to his eyes to wipe away his tears. His chest is on fire with anger again, and this time, he can't push it down. “It doesn't make me like this ! I-I can't- This isn't- There's-!“ His voice cracks. He looks Professor Kukui in the eyes again. “Professor, I think something's wrong with me.”
When Professor Kukui offered to house Ash during his stay in Alola, he wasn't sure what he was expecting.
He knows kids. It's his entire job to deal with kids, understand them, and help them. He hadn't personally taken care of one in his house for a long period of time before, but he was still more than qualified, and definitely the most qualified out of any other candidate. And with Ash being as self-sufficient as he is, he knew he wouldn't be too much of an issue in that regard.
When he had heard that Ash had been on multiple journeys before, that Alola was the seventh- technically eighth- region he'd been to, he was surprised. This kid? This ten year old, who was one of the silliest, most whimsical and carefree kids he'd seen? He had already been on seven journeys before? Kukui almost didn't believe it.
But soon enough, it was very evident. His stories, his experience, his knowledge, his maturity he clearly wasn't new to this. But he was still... weirdly collected. About, well, everything. He'd tell some tale that had to be true, about some brave and terrifying thing he'd done, some ordeal he'd been through, and he'd be smiling the whole time, animatedly recalling the tale with Pikachu by his side helping him.
Kukui can tell most of Ash's classmates think he's joking. He can't blame them; if he didn't talk to Ash every day and talk to his mother every other week, he might not believe him either. And his stories, about meeting Legendaries and Mythicals, about defeating villainous teams, about almost dying tens of times, are unbelievable, in every sense of the word.
Kukui knows, though, that he's telling the truth. And that's not even what's so terrifying. His true stories- backed up by his otherwise honest nature, his mother's words, his other friends, and some very strange- and sometimes concerning- habits- aren't what worries Kukui so much. It's Ash's complete lack of worry about everything, the fact that he never seems affected by anything, and anything that he is clearly affected by only sticks for a few days at most. Kukui would say it's just a ten year old being a ten year old, but with his experience, he knows there's more than that.
When Kukui offered to house Ash during his stay in Alola, he expected... not what he got. First, he expected a rowdy, but okay kid. Then, he expected- to be completely honest- an absolute wreck. The kid had been on seven journeys in the past year and apparently almost died in most of them, for Arceus' sake! After a while, though, it was clear that Ash... well, it isn't that he doesn't care. He cares so much, about everything. It's just that he doesn't think anything is that big of a deal. If it doesn't keep making a tangible problem he can Thunderbolt away, then he's fine. And he really, truly, believes that.
After a while, Kukui almost believed that Ash really was fine. Apparently, as he had eventually thought, a carefree ten year old's whimsy was unmatched, and Ash didn't worry about anything, and Kukui had nothing to worry about.
He can't believe he really almost believed it.
And the cracks weren't obvious. They were there, but they weren't obvious. Ash is good at hiding them. So good that Kukui never truly saw them for what they were- a warning.
Kukui's lesson that day focuses on Kalos. He knows Ash had been to Kalos, and so does the rest of the class. So it isn’t a surprise at all that when Ash hears him opening the lesson with a comment about Kalos, he excitedly starts to contribute. The lesson starts with Mega Evolution, and Ash keeps adding things as usual, talking about his own experiences with the fascinating transformation.
When the lesson moves onto the Bond Phenomenon, he, weirdly, gets a little quieter. He doesn’t add on quite so much. His additions are shorter, more avoidant. Pikachu looks worried.
It isn’t too noticeable. None of his classmates say anything, none of them give him a weird look, and Kukui himself only notices when they’re walking back home and Ash says absolutely nothing about that section of the lesson, only talking about Mega Evolution the entire walk back.
At the time, Kukui had been a little confused, but brushed it off. It wasn't surprising Ash doesn’t have as much to say about it. No one knows much about it besides the Bond Phenomenon trainer themself. Just because Ash was in Kalos around that time doesn't mean he was even anywhere near that trainer at any point besides maybe the League. Like always, it’s nothing, Like always, Ash is fine. Like always, there’s nothing to worry about.
Now, Kukui is sitting at his table, half-empty mug of hot chocolate in front of him, an upset Ash across from him, and he's cursing himself for being so ignorant.
Kukui truly has no idea what's going through Ash's head. He doesn't know exactly what Ash has been through, what he's done, what he's thinking now, but he knows what he's like. He knows that Ash is a brave kid, who wants to be able to deal with anything, and who’s damn good at dealing with most things that life throws his way. Kukui knows that Ash is one of the most determined, steadfast, and experienced kids he's ever met.
But as Ash sits in front of him, shoulders shaking, eyes wet with tears, voice cracking as he angrily says there's something wrong with him , Kukui's heart breaks, and he realizes that that steadfast dam has broken wide open, and he is the one here to help this kid. Arceus knows the kid needs some help.
“Ash,” Kukui says softly for the millionth time this evening, not that he minds. “What do you mean by that?”
Ash wipes at his eyes with his arm again, sniffling and shaking uncontrollably. “I-I do-on't know how to- to explain,” He finally gets out. Pikachu jumps up onto his shoulder, attempting to comfort him by nuzzling his face. Ash clearly isn't too comforted. “I'm not-” He almost sounds angry as he cuts himself off and moves his hand from his eyes to Pikachu's head. He looks down at the table. “This isn't normal, th's- this- whatever reaction th's is.“ His gaze moves back up to Kukui's, tears coming to his eyes again. His voice is still rising in volume. ”I ne- never do this! This doesn't happen t' me!“ He slouches back on the couch, and Pikachu nudges his face again with a worried, ‘ pikapiii.... ’
Kukui isn't sure what Ash needs here. He isn't sure what caused Ash to think that having a nightmare about a traumatizing experience isn't ”normal“. He isn't sure what exactly Ash is trying to explain here. But he has an idea.
He stands up and moves to the other side of the table. Slowly, carefully, he kneels down to be on eye level with Ash, who looks at him with a slightly confused expression on his face. Kukui silently offers his outstretched arms.
For a moment, he thinks that Ash isn't going to take it. And that's okay, it's up to him if he wants it or not. After a couple of moments, though, Pikachu jumps off of Ash’s shoulder, and Ash forcefully pushes himself off the couch and into Kukui's arms, hands grabbing the back of his coat, and starts sobbing.
Kukui didn't know what he expected from this boy. Truth be told, he still doesn't. But as he gently pats Ash's back as he cries into his shoulder at two AM on a Tuesday morning, he thinks he's getting a little closer to understanding.
“You know,” Kukui says softly after a few moments, “I don’t think it’s so surprising that you’re feeling this way.” Ash doesn’t respond with any words, so he continues. “It’s normal for someone who’s been through what you have to be affected by it. Even if you don’t usually feel it, you’re different because of your journeys.”
Ash pulls away and looks up at him, confused. His face is all red, and he sniffles again. “But- I’m just Ash? ‘m still the same guy. I just… act all weird now s’mtimes.” His voice fades into a mumble towards the end of his sentence.
Kukui doesn’t think he can take this anymore. He’s never understood exactly what makes Ash so incredibly smart yet so incredibly… not dumb, just… oblivious. Usually it’s for more simple, everyday things, and he supposes he can’t be surprised that a ten year old doesn’t know how to deal with his more complicated emotions, but even the other students his age understand things like this better than him, and they haven’t had nearly as crazy a life as he has. Maybe that crazy life is what makes him so different. Or more likely, it’s just what he’s like.
“Everyone’s life affects them in different ways, and they react differently,” Kukui attempts to explain, hoping that Ash will actually understand. To be honest, he doesn’t expect much, since Ash clearly isn’t great at addressing his feelings- hell, this is the first time he’s really cried this entire time, as far as Kukui knows. “It’s just a fact of life. Your experiences make you different, and that’s not a bad thing!” He smiles. “It just means you feel and react differently to things compared to others, maybe even unexpectedly. In this case, from my perspective… it seems like you’re just not used to it.” He tilts his head. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but do you mind me asking how often you have nights like this?”
Ash glances to the side and picks at his fingernail. “Um, maybe… once every coupl’a months?”
“And have you told anyone else about what you’re dealing with, for example, your mother?” Kukui prompts gently. Ash looks a little embarrassed as he silently shakes his head. “Why not?”
(WHY??)
Ash doesn’t know what to think anymore.
It’s a bit ridiculous. He’s so certain of everything, he knows exactly what to do, he can always find a way out of whatever predicament he’s in, he can do it, or he can do it with the help of his friends. Every time. Every time that matters, anyways. He’s always fine in the end.
But now, he can’t find a single answer for the question that’s been bugging him the entire night and for the past year and for the past ten:
Why?
Why does this stuff happen to him? Because it does. Why does he feel bad? Because he had a bad day. Why doesn’t he tell anyone? Because he’s fine. Why does he think he’s fine? Because he is. He just is . Everyone believes him, and no one believes him, and he’s not sure whether he himself does.
He doesn’t think he’s very sure of anything anymore. He’s certain of some things, like how his mom’s hugs are always the best and always have been, and Pikachu is always there for him, and he’s always there for Pikachu, and his friends and his mom and his Pokemon are his reason for going on, and ice cream always tastes better with chocolate syrup and sprinkles, and the grass is green, except when it’s not, and the sky is blue, except when it’s not, and he trusts his friends, except when he can’t, and he’s completely fine, except when he’s not. He’s fine in every situation, and nothing is an issue, and he’s perfectly okay, except when he’s not, and this is starting to sound like a made-up story, even to him.
It’s just that stupid question. Why? Why does he feel like this? Why can’t he just ask that? Why does he have to be a fucking freak? Why can’t he just be fine? Why does there have to be a climax, a conflict, some big villain? Why can’t he just skip to the post-finale, where everything is okay, and he acts like nothing happens because maybe if he does (and he ignores every TV and newspaper and doesn’t look at the news for the next week) no one will bring it up ever again.
He can’t think of an answer to it at all. Why? It’s driving him in circles, just like it has since he can remember. Every answer is a new question- why? - and every question is even harder than the last- why? - and it always brings him back to his worst moments and his worst memories- why? - which only makes him ask it again-
Why is he like this?
Professor Kukui’s explanation makes sense. Almost. If Ash were anyone else, it might make sense. But he’s not anyone else, he’s Ash Ketchum, and he’s nothing special, but he knows he’s just a little different, and he’s strong and stubborn and confident and Professor Kukui’s explanation contradicts that in every way. Ash is just Ash, even if he’s not sure of it sometimes, and he’s been the same his whole life, and Professor Kukui’s explanation can’t be right because- because-
“I’m strong by m’self,” Ash finally responds, and the words feel wrong the moment they come out of his mouth. “I-” He falters. What is he saying? (Why?) “Not that anyone else is weak or anythin’, I just know I don’t need all that, and- y- y’know…” He trails off again. He can’t look Professor Kukui in the eye.
Professor Kukui reaches forward and gently pushes his face back to look at him, and Ash knows he’s disappointed before he even sees him. “Ash… why do you think that?”
( WHY??? )
Ash thinks he might explode. “I just- I don’t need to! I’m plenty strong by myself, and you can’t be right because- b’cause I’m just-” He can feel his face getting all hot again and there’s more tears running down his cheeks and this is maybe the most he’s cried in front of anyone besides his mom ever but he just can’t bring himself to care. “I don’t- I don’ know!”
Ash can’t understand Professor Kukui’s face- and not just because of the tears blurring his vision. “Ash,” the Professor says, not unkindly, but still somewhat forcefully, “I don’t know everything about your life, but I know enough that I think I can start to understand the problem here. What I understand is that you know you’re strong enough that you can persevere through tough situations without a whole lot of outside help. But in the tough situations you’re used to, you still accept help, because you trust others to help you, and you know you can’t take on literally everything. These tough situations are different to the ones we’re talking about, though.”
Professor Kukui takes one of Ash’s hands in his own and squeezes it. Ash blinks and looks at him, really looks at him this time. His expression is more like one of… sad understanding, than confusion or disappointment or annoyance or pity, and Ash feels… relieved. The Professor continues, “You know there’s plenty of help to be provided for you, you just need to realize that like any other tough situation, you can get into this tough situation just like anyone else, and you can get your way out of it with the help of others. All you need to do is accept that you need it and can take it.”
It takes a few moments for what Professor Kukui is saying to make any sense to Ash. He feels like everything he hears is taking way longer to process than usual, but he gets it after those few moments. And when he does get it, he feels… a little lightheaded.
“I- but-” Ash stammers. “You mean- but I’m fine. I don’ need-”
“Ash,” Professor Kukui interrupts him gently, patiently, “yes, you do. You’re having- frankly- very expected responses to traumatic events and you’re not letting anyone else know until it all builds up and you literally can’t hide it anymore.” He reaches forward to wipe a tear from Ash’s face and smiles. “Look, I know you’re probably still feeling a Whirlwind of emotions right now, so let’s get some water, maybe a snack, and we can talk some more.”
With the move pun out of nowhere and the weight of Pikachu suddenly jumping onto the top of his shoulder, Ash’s mind clears a bit. He feels a little dizzy, but less fuzzy, and things are starting to make more sense. He silently nods, and when Professor Kukui stands up and moves for the kitchen area, he follows him.
“I- Professor,” He finally calls after a few seconds, as Professor Kukui is taking a cup out of the cabinet, “how d’you know all this?”
Professor Kukui doesn’t pause as he puts a few ice cubes in the cup and fills it with water. “I’ve got a lot of experience in being a person,” he says, chuckling. “Many more years than you.” He hands Ash the cup of ice water, then quickly grabs a tissue from the counter and gives that to him, too. “Here you go.”
Ash takes both items. His hands are still shaking, and he doesn’t know how to stop them. The cup is cold, and the cup is wet. The tissue is soft, and the tissue is dry. His face is warm, and his face is wet. His hands are shaking, and one is cold, and the other is still just a little warm from the hot chocolate that he never took a single sip of.
He finally takes a sip of water, letting the surprising chill shock him just a little bit more into being more there than he had been before. He blinks and looks up at Professor Kukui, who looks relieved when he makes eye contact.
He wipes at his eyes with the tissue, then at his nose, and he could use another one, but he doesn’t really care right now, and there’s a tissue box right behind him anyways. His eyes are still sore and his nose is still stuffy and his throat still hurts and his stomach still aches and he still can’t think of anything except the most terrifyingly beautiful view of Kalos he’s ever seen, but as Professor Kukui smiles at him, and Pikachu contentedly rubs its cheeks against his, he thinks he’ll be okay.
Ash is starting to think that maybe he’s finally lost it.
Well, but that might not be the right sentence.
Ash is starting to think that maybe he needs a little more help at certain times, and that maybe he can take his time, and that maybe ice cream doesn’t always need fifteen different toppings, and that maybe he’s not the same Ash he was the day he started his Pokemon journey, and that maybe, that’s not such a bad thing.
He needs to call his mom.