Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon
Her fingers trembled as she tore the paper in her hand to pieces. They floated aimlessly towards the glossy tiled floor of the Cerulean City gym, but she took no notice. In fact, she was having a rather hard time breathing, or controlling the pounding in her heart and the ringing in her ears.
She refused to read the note again – once was torture enough. Printed in Ash's sloppy handwriting, containing meaningless words, and a stupid 'Your friend, Ash' at the end – it was all scrapped. She had skimmed it over once, quickly, her eyes blurring and the paper crinkling as she tightened her fist. Then, she had promptly ripped it apart.
An apology. A freaking apology.
Maybe the apology wouldn't have been so bad – if it hadn't been eight years. Eight Years. Misty wasn't sure if she could accept such a thing, especially because everything in the letter had no heart or meaning, just simply boring scrawled messages like, Sorry I haven't called, and pathetic excuses like, I've just been real busy with training…
Misty stared at the scraps on the ground sullenly, sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window and shining on her face. She bent down, picking them into the palms of her hand so she could throw them out. Her heart was still pounding, and she wondered if it would ever calm down.
Reluctance clung to her throat as she opened the garbage bin, her arm shaking as she released the scraps of apology into the bin, watching them flutter and swirl before landing haphazardly in the garbage. A feeling of satisfaction eased through her body.
She had done it. She had thrown out the apology. Now, she would forget he ever gave it, continue on living her life normally, and then one day die with the warm feeling of independence and not giving into his fake lies.
Yes, she decided, that was a good goal.
Determined to get started living her normal life right away, Misty hurried to the kitchen to put in some toast for breakfast. She hummed to herself, pulling her hair in a ponytail, and grabbing the jam from the fridge. She checked the clock, realizing her sisters would be tumbling down the stairs soon, and she wanted to savour her alone time as much as she could – she didn't get it much.
The toast popped out of the toaster with a clang, and Misty eagerly went forward to get them. She hummed louder. "Not thinking about Ash," she sang as she took out the toast, flinching as the heat burned her pinky. She quickly flicked it onto a plate. "Living my no-o-ormal life, not caring about his apology…"
She felt pretty stupid, but the tune was catchy, and she'd once heard a phrase: Fake it 'till you make it. So, she could fake she didn't care about Ash and his apology and soon, it would become her reality. She liked the idea even more than her previous one.
As she began to spread the jam, her mind strayed, even as she tried to contain it to simple, normal thoughts: thoughts that weren't about him, at the least. But stray her mind did, to ponders about bright chocolate eyes and a cheeky smile.
She shook her head. Remember Misty, his apology was stupid, he doesn't matter…and you have a very normal life to get along with…
She took a bite of her toast.
Ring, Ring, Ring. Phone Call, Phone Call! Ring, Ring, Ring! Phone Call, Phone Call….
Misty huffed, annoyed, as she put down her bitten toast. She chewed furiously as she headed over to where the Cerulean City video phone was, silently sending curses to whoever had called and interrupted her breakfast. The annoying sound that flooded her home and gym would probably also wake up her sisters, ruining the redhead's peace.
Stomping over to the phone, Misty yanked the device to her ear, pulling on the cord almost to the point of snapping. She wasn't exactly in the brightest of moods from the previous incident that had occurred.
"Hello?" she said grouchily. "This is the Cerulean City gym. How may I help you?" She wasn't a secretary either, but this was her way of answering all the phone calls that were directed to her gym leader duties.
Misty nearly dropped the phone as she contained a yelp, taking a step backwards. That voice – oh no – not that voice…
It can't be him…it can't…
"Misty?" he said again, fainter this time. "I'm gunna turn the screen on so we can see each other, okay?"
He sounded cautious, unsure – his voice even wobbled a bit. Misty didn't answer, numb and frozen on the spot, her arm shaking as she clutched the phone tighter and tighter. Her face was pale and her toes were curled in her tennis shoes.
She wanted desperately to argue, to tell him that he couldn't turn the screen on…but her voice was stuck in her throat. Moments later of standing in horror, the black screen filled with colour.
Misty swallowed hard, brushing her sweaty palms on her denim shorts. She was aware that her face was probably dangerously white, and that she looked like she'd just gotten out of bed – which she had, in fact.
He was still Ash.
Despite a few minor differences, like being a bit tanner because he was always out in the sun, and having whiter teeth than she remembered, he was still the same. He had a cap – although not the same one he had cherished years ago – planted on his head to mat down the mass of black hair underneath him.
Speaking of his hair, it was still heavily out of place, like Medusa's head with snakes coming out of it – except, of course, instead of snakes, he had lanky locks that toppled all over.
"Listen Mist, it's me…I know…I know it's been a long time. I wasn't sure if…"
Misty's fist curled. His eyes were still the same too – bright and brown, dark and boyish, with that warm twinkle that had sucked her in the moment she'd seen them.
"Did ya get the note? I wasn't sure if you did…so I thought I should tell you in person…"
His voice echoed in her ears, but she couldn't even hear him very properly. She knew every word he was saying, but they sounded like whispers from another world.
He still had the same smile, also. Cheerful, toothy, filled with determination – albeit his current one seemed a bit nervous.
"I – I just wanted to say that I…"
Misty shivered, not responding, wondering if he noticed her lack of speech. She heard him a take a deep breath. She braced herself.
"I wanted to say…that…"
She looked into his face one more time, taking in every detail from his thick eyebrows to his dirty cheeks, gripping the phone hard.
The phone slammed down before he could finish. She tumbled backwards, her eyes wide in shock as she stared at the now blackened screen once again.
Apology not accepted.