Perdant d'Amour (Losing Love)

Sequel to Gagnat d'Amour

Prequel to Manquant d'Amour

Originally written: October 2000 - March 2001

Revised: July 2003

Prologue set 1 year after Gagnat.

Main story set 3 years after Gagnat.

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PROLOGUE

~*~

"Ash! If I have to come down there!" Delia's threat rang shrilly through the peaceful Ketchum residence, silencing the teenage giggles coming from the living room.

"What are you talking about mom? I'm in my room…er…reading!" Ash tried to throw his voice up the stairs as he sat on Misty's sofa-bed, as she sat shaking with silent giggles in his arms.

"Oh yeah," Delia snorted. "You may be a Pokémon Master young man, but you're still breaking bedroom curfew! You and Misty need to get some sleep!"

"But mo-"

"NO BUTS!" The door to Delia's bedroom slammed shut, sending vibrations through the house. This set Ash and Misty off giggling again, but an angry maternal growl from upstairs silenced them rapidly. Lunging at Misty with a quick kiss goodnight, and managing to hit her nose, Ash scrambled up the stairs and into his room.

When she was sure that he'd gone, Misty swung her legs onto the sofa-bed and tucked herself under the covers. Reaching under the pillow, she pulled out her green-sheathed diary and as usual, scribbled a few sentences. Yawning widely, she curled up into a little ball on her makeshift bed, and fell asleep, dreaming sweet thoughts.

Creeeeeak. Ash quickly took his weight off the creaky step, and hopped over it. Slowly and silently, he made his way back into the lounge. It was way past midnight; he knew Misty would be asleep. He on the other hand couldn't sleep, so he had decided to…

"ASH!" growled his mother from upstairs, as Ash cringed. "What are you doing!?"

"I-I'm thirsty…" replied Ash, walking over to the fridge and defiantly pulling it open.

"There's water in your bathroom!" she retorted.

"I want chocolate milk," pouted Ash, just before tipping the carton and sloshing the chocolate milk into his mouth rather than a glass.

"Alright then…" said Delia, yawning. "Just…don't wake Misty." Rhythmic breathing from upstairs reassured Ash his mother was dozing.

"I won't," he whispered, putting the nearly empty carton back.

"Too late." Misty was standing beside him in her pale lemon pyjamas with her hair out. Ash grinned at her, lifting one hand behind her neck to ruffle the back of her hair.

"Sorry Myst," he said, holding her closer.

"So you should be!" Misty teased. "I am VERY angry, and I must be appeased!"

"Oh, I agree," Ash teased back, with exaggerated sincerity. "You certainly need your beauty sleep, scrawny." While Misty was staring at him with mock speechlessness, he grabbed her round the waist and lifted her up, a tradition they had started just before getting together. Involuntarily, she squealed. Ash, frightened that his mother would wake, silenced her with a kiss, feeling her body go limp in his arms.

The one short kiss turned into a long series of kisses, with her still in his arms, playing with the collar of his pyjama top. Ash let her slide slowly to the floor, kissing her all the while. The happiest times in his life was when he held Misty in his arms, and kissed her. If it wasn't for their kisses and romantic touches, their relationship was almost exactly the same as it had been when they were just best friends. Kisses weren't a very important part of other people's romantic relationships, but it was the time when he knew she really loved him, and was reminded how much he really loved her.

But neither of them had said the words out loud.

Both were sure of the others feelings; both sides knew the other side loved them…but never confirmed it. Ash thought the words were stupid, meaningless syllables. He knew she knew he loved her.

Releasing her lips, they looked each other in the eyes while they got their breath back. Both understood what the other was thinking. They grinned…

Delia Ketchum sighed as she saw them. It was obviously futile trying to keep them apart. Upon walking into her son's bedroom to apologise for shouting at him and Misty last night, she had found them together, sleeping serenely under the early morning sun that was peeking through Ash's haphazardly drawn curtains. As usual, Ash was sprawled out, taking up most of the bed, with one arm draped around Misty's shoulders. Misty was curled up next to him, her head on his chest. Their free hands were clasped loosely together.

Deciding to leave them for a while, Delia dressed and wandered down to the lounge to permanently pack away the sofa-bed. She had a feeling Misty would be just as happy upstairs in her son's room. Delia tore off the bedding with the kind of stamina only a mother has, and Misty's diary slid unnoticed to the floor, and opened to her last entry.

"So, when is he going to say he loves me then, hmmm?"