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May picked up her phone again and re-read the last text message for what had to be the millionth time.
Her free hand clenched into a fist so tightly her nails bit into her palm. Tears slipped down her cheeks in hot, constant streaks, blurring the words and forcing her to wipe them away, only to read it again anyway, like if she stared long enough it might change.
It didn’t.
I’m sorry to do this by text, May. I really wish I wasn’t so much of a coward and could do this face to face like you deserve. I can’t carry on with our relationship. I will always cherish our time together. I’m sorry, May.
The message felt colder than the winter outside.
May’s chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. She swallowed hard, but it did nothing to stop the sound that cracked out of her, half sob, half laugh, like her body didn’t know what to do with all the feeling at once.
“You… coward,” she whispered, voice shaking. “You don’t get to-”
Her throat closed.
Before she could talk herself out of it, before she could do anything sensible, like put on a coat, or tell someone where she was going, May hurled her phone across the Pokémon Center room. It hit the floor with a dull clatter and skidded under the bed.
Her gloves and scarf lay untouched where she’d dropped them earlier. Her hat was still on the chair. Her coat hung from the hook by the door.
She didn’t grab any of it.
May ran.
Out of the Pokémon Center, out into the freezing December evening, straight into the bite of cold air that should have made her flinch. Snow was already drifting down in thin, sharp flakes, the kind that stung when they hit your skin.
May didn’t care.
She ran until she couldn’t tell if her face was wet from tears or melting snow. She ran until her lungs burned and her legs shook, until the lights of Lilycove City blurred at the edge of her vision.
Finally, she stumbled to a stop by a bench near the city’s outskirts, collapsing onto it like her body had simply given up.
The cold didn’t register properly, not at first.
Not until the wind picked up.
It whistled through the street, carrying a harsher gust that cut through her clothes and sank into her bones. The storm was building now, visible in the way the snowfall thickened, the air turning white and restless.
May stared straight ahead, breathing in shallow, ragged pulls.
Why did it hurt this much?
It had only been a text. A few lines. And yet it felt like someone had reached into her chest and ripped something out.
She pressed her hands against her eyes, but the tears kept coming anyway.
Back at the Pokémon Center, Max knocked on May’s door, already annoyed in the way little brothers often were when older sisters disappeared without explanation.
“May?” he called. “You in here?”
No answer.
Max pushed the door open slightly and poked his head through the gap. The room was empty. Too empty.
He stepped inside, his annoyance fading into confusion.
May’s coat was still on the bed. Her hat, scarf, gloves, everything she’d need in this weather, left behind like she’d forgotten them.
And her phone…
It lay on the floor, screen dark, abandoned.
Max’s stomach dropped.
He turned and sprinted out of the room, barreling down the hall and nearly skidding into Ash and Brock.
“Max?” Brock steadied him. “What’s wrong?”
“May is gone!” Max blurted, panting.
Ash’s head snapped up. “Gone where?”
“I don’t know!” Max insisted, voice cracking. “Her coat and stuff are still on the bed and her phone’s on the floor!”
Max shoved the phone into Ash’s hands. Ash unlocked it without thinking, eyes scanning the screen.
He read the message.
And the world narrowed.
Ash’s jaw tightened. His chest went tight in a different way, sharp, immediate concern. He didn’t need context, didn’t need details, didn’t need to understand Drew’s reasons.
He only needed to understand one thing.
May had left without her coat.
In December.
Ash grabbed his own coat and yanked it on. “Brock,” he said quickly, already moving, “stay here with Max in case she comes back. Keep an eye on the Center.”
“Ash-” Brock began.
“I’ll find her,” Ash said, voice firm. “I promise.”
Then he was out the door.
Pikachu leapt after him.
Ash ran through the streets, scanning for any hint of familiar auburn hair, any sign of a girl sitting alone somewhere in the cold. Snow hit his face, melting instantly and mixing with the sweat from his exertion.
His mind kept flashing through memories, May laughing at one of his jokes, May rolling her eyes at him, May standing tall at a contest stage with her ribbon case in her hands.
May was strong.
But strong didn’t mean invincible.
And heartbreak didn’t care how strong you were.
Ash pushed harder.
He found her near the edge of Lilycove, curled on a bench like she’d been folded in on herself. Her shoulders trembled, not just from sobbing but from cold settling in.
For a second, Ash went still, relief slamming into him so hard his knees nearly buckled.
Then he moved.
He sat beside her and draped his coat over her shoulders without hesitation.
May didn’t even seem to notice at first.
Not until the warmth hit her skin and startled her back into the moment. She turned her head slowly.
She looked into Ash’s eyes, warm, familiar, steady, and that was all it took.
May broke.
She threw her arms around his chest and buried her face into his shoulder, sobbing like she’d been holding it in for hours.
Ash wrapped his arms around her immediately, anchoring her there, letting her shake against him.
“I saw Drew’s message,” he admitted quietly.
May shuddered. “Why?” she whispered, voice muffled against him. “Why did he dump me?”
Ash swallowed. He wished he had the right answer. He wished he could give her something that would make it stop hurting.
“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I’m sorry.”
May cried harder for a moment, and
Ash just held her. He didn’t rush her. He didn’t try to fix it with words.
He stayed.
When her sobs finally eased into quieter, exhausted sniffles, Ash shifted slightly.
“You ready to head back?” he asked softly.
May nodded, small and tired. “Yeah.”
Ash stood first and helped her up, keeping his coat around her shoulders.
As they walked, May stayed as close to him as she could without tripping them both.
“It’s so cold,” she mumbled, voice shaky. “But you’re… you’re so warm.”
Ash glanced down at her, heart twisting.
“Keep the coat,” he said. “Don’t argue.”
May didn’t.
Back at the Pokémon Center, May sat with a steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands while Ash, now that he knew she was safe, finally let the worry turn into a gentle scolding.
“What were you thinking?” Ash demanded, but his voice wasn’t harsh. It was shaky in its own way. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”
“I didn’t run away,” May muttered, cheeks flushed from warmth returning.
“I just needed space.”
Max hovered like an anxious Pichu, fussing over her. “You didn’t even take your coat!”
“Max,” May sighed, pushing him back gently, “for the last time, I’m fine.”
Brock stepped in smoothly, sensing the tension. “Max,” he said, “it’s getting late. Can you help me feed the Pokémon? Then it’s bedtime.”
Max hesitated, then nodded reluctantly.
“Okay…”
He and Brock left, leaving Ash and May alone.
The silence in the room was softer now.
Ash sat across from her, studying her face. “You okay?” he asked again, quieter.
May’s grip tightened around the mug. “Not really,” she admitted. “Everything just hurts.”
Ash’s mouth opened, and then, because Ash was Ash and sometimes the first thing out of his mouth was the wrong thing.
“Look on the bright side,” he blurted. “At least you don’t have to buy him a Christmas present now.”
May stared at him blankly.
For one horrifying second, Ash thought he’d ruined it.
Then May let out a small giggle.
It grew into laughter, real laughter, surprised laughter, the kind that punched through pain just enough to let air in.
Ash’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he couldn’t help smiling too.
“That is true,” May said, wiping at her cheeks.
Ash rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. That was… probably dumb.”
“No,” May said softly. “It helped.”
She hesitated, then looked at him with something vulnerable in her eyes.
“Ash…”
“Yeah?”
“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked. “I don’t think I can face being alone right now.”
Ash didn’t hesitate. “Sure thing.”
Later, Ash lay on May’s bed, one arm behind his head. May curled against him, her head on his chest, her arm draped across his stomach as if she needed the steady reminder that he was really there.
Ash stared up at the ceiling, listening to her breathing slowly settle.
After a while, he spoke softly.
“Hey, May…”
“Yeah, Ash?” Her voice was sleepy.
“Drew is an idiot for letting you go,” Ash said quietly. “It’s his loss. Don’t let it get you down. You’re worth more than that.”
May sniffed, and Ash’s chest tightened with worry that he’d made her cry again.
But then her voice came back warm, soft, and sincere.
“Thank you, Ash.”
“Get some sleep,” Ash murmured, gentle but firm. “It’s late.”
May mumbled an answer and closed her eyes. A few minutes later, her breathing changed, deeper now, steady.
Ash looked down at her in the moonlight. Her face was softer when she wasn’t trying to be brave. Her lips curved slightly, like even in sleep she could feel safe.
This wasn’t how he’d imagined spending the night with May, the determined gym leader’s daughter who wanted to see the world, with or without a Pokémon partner. But somewhere along the road, she’d become one of the most important people in his life.
And somewhere along the road, his feelings had shifted into something he’d never dared name out loud.
When Drew had started dating her, Ash swallowed it down and told himself it didn’t matter.
But tonight, with her asleep on his chest, he couldn’t deny it anymore.
He just also couldn’t act on it.
Not like this.
Not when she was hurting.
So he stayed quiet.
And stayed.
Over the next few weeks, as Christmas crept closer, Ash did what Ash always did: he showed up.
He spent every spare moment with May. He told awful jokes until she laughed. He pulled her into battles and training to keep her moving, keep her focused. He made sure she ate. He made sure she didn’t disappear into her room for too long.
Max noticed first.
He watched May smile a little easier. He watched her stop flinching every time someone mentioned Drew’s name. He watched Ash quietly adjust his whole day around making sure May wasn’t alone.
One afternoon, May groaned dramatically and dropped onto a chair.
“I don’t know, Ash… what is the coldest Pokémon known to mankind?”
Ash’s eyes lit up like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life.
“It’s a FRIDGEotto,” he declared.
May rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself. “Ash, that was terrible.”
Max, walking past, deadpanned, “It was painful.”
“Yeah,” Ash argued cheerfully, “but that’s what makes it funny.”
May’s laughter softened into something warmer.
Something grateful.
On Christmas Day, the Pokémon Center was bright with decorations and warmth. Nurse Joy had gone all out, streamers, lights, a small tree, and a feast that made Ash’s eyes widen.
Ash and Pikachu had just sat down for their second helping of Christmas dinner when May approached, hands hidden behind her back.
“Ash,” she said quietly, “can I talk to you for a moment? In private?”
Ash blinked, then nodded. “Uh, sure.”
He followed her to a quieter corner of the Center, away from Brock and Max, who were still working through their first plates.
May positioned Ash carefully so he was standing beneath a wreath of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.
Ash glanced up, startled. “May… what’s-”
“Shh,” May whispered.
She stepped up onto her tiptoes and kissed him.
For a second Ash froze, not because he didn’t want it, but because his brain couldn’t keep up with his heart.
Then he moved, gently pulling her closer, one hand settling at her waist like it belonged there.
May’s arms looped around his shoulders, holding him like she meant it.
When they finally broke apart, May’s cheeks were flushed, not from embarrassment, but from something steadier.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” she whispered. “For being… you. For staying.”
Ash swallowed, his heart thudding.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly.
May smiled, small and sincere. “I do.”
Ash didn’t say the words he’d been holding for weeks.
He didn’t need to.
He just leaned in and kissed her again, gentle, careful, and unmistakably real.
And for the first time in a long time, May felt warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the season.