First Faith

Chapter 17: Debt

Chapter 17: Debt

I woke up to Dawn's fingers still in my hair. My face felt dirty and my head felt horrible. And why did my wrists feel like they were bruised?

Oh, right. My Electivire had attacked me. And then I'd cried like a little girl after letting an actual little girl and my girlfriend comfort me like I was some damsel in distress. That's right. How could I forget that?

I mentally groaned, wondering why I'd allowed myself to even let out one tear last night, much less a floodgate. That was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me, and in the past few months a Haunter had stolen my pants (twice) in front of other people. I would hope that partial nudity would be the climax of my humiliation, but no. I had cried like the room was full of chopped onions.

And yet I'd slept like a cadaver, if that counted as a pro on my list of events that were mostly cons.

Dawn stirred in her sleep and let out a little groan, her eyes opening a crack, "Good morning. How are you feeling?"

I awkwardly squirmed, "Well, I'm not sobbing uncontrollably anymore."

She exhaled slowly, "I knew you would act like this in the morning."

"I don't cry."

"I know. Why do you think you cried like that? You stored up years' worth of crying. Paul used Stored Power!" Dawn teased.

I didn't smile.

"Come on, that was funny." She said before cuddling her head against my chest, "Besides, you shouldn't be embarrassed."

"I just cried." I repeated.

"So? I've cried."

"But I cried."

Dawn peeked up to read my expression, "Everyone cries. Why is it so special when you cry?"

"I don't cry." I yet again repeated.

She sighed tiredly, "Well you needed to. Don't you feel better?"

I grimaced, "Yes."

"You sound so pleased." I could hear her amusement.

"I'm not used to crying. I used to tell myself to tough it out, just like I told my Pokemon. That crying wouldn't get me anywhere." I paused, "My mom used to say that."

"She doesn't sound very nice."

"She isn't."

Dawn adjusted her head so she could stare at me. She puckered her lips thoughtfully, "Your mom may be mean, but that doesn't mean you have to act like her, if she was ever rude or anything."

I sighed, "It's not about my mom."

"Then who is this about?"

Before I could answer, I heard a high pitched scream from across the room. Dawn and I looked at her bunk, where Piplup had rocketed off his back, kicking at the blanket as if it was attacking him, his flippers flying madly. He looked like a baby having a tantrum until he realized he was awake, in which he paused before scowling, shaking just as oddly as if to show his anger.

"Did you have a bad dream, Piplup?" Dawn asked, getting up and going over to him, scooping his small body into her arms. He nodded. I rolled my eyes.