Lantern 「Pokemon Watty Awards 2016」

lantern

[ A/N: Song in media is Ikanaide, a Vocaloid song. The English cover featured is by Lizz, a YT singer. Dedicated to Risa-White because Ikanaide means don't go and also dedicated to the person who wrote the oneshot "ricochet" for knb because its inspired off this so much and it took me ages just to make sure its not too similar criess

happy mid-autumn festival, tho! ]

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the mid-autumn festival represents and symbolises "reunion"

"I'm sorry, Meowstic—but it's for the best. I'm too weak of a trainer for you. You'd be better off if you went with another trainer."

I can hear every break in my voice, every crack that signifies that I am not qualified to stop you—a talented Pokemon—from earning your place in the world—and the truth is burnt into the air as if an iron has left its mark, laying the bare truth in the open where it is fragile; vulnerable, and the silence between us is almost enough to shatter me.

Why would you care? You never thought I was good enough for you—and it should stay that way. The team I've built could never support you—all stars must shoot forward in life sometime, and they must find suitable accompaniment—they cannot choose to stay in mortal hands any longer.

And I assume that you know what's best for you too—because as my hand closes around your Pokeball, fingers sliding to the button to make the fateful decision—you turn away, small fists clenching as you hiss. Could you not bear to see my face, smiling through the agony and trying to pretend that nothing'll change?

I watch you disappear into the wilderness, and my mouth moves before my heart does as I see that you have made the right choice.

A tiny, shattered grin forms. "Thank you."

(I am thankful for the mouthed words left unsaid, unshed against the angry silence glaring at me through the bitterness of the first night alone without you—oh, please don't leave me.)

℘

I do not expect us to meet again.

After all, I can only dream of the great places you must be going to—I, meanwhile, have remained behind like a lantern missing its light—because no one will be there to pick up a meaningless paper object and walk with it.

I do not dare to move on. After many calls of worry and sympathy—telling me to return home, telling me to press on—I make my eventual decision to remain in Geosenge, and several weeks had brought me back to a shaky start. An old couple running a small business takes pity on me, and I find myself starting to bounce back up, as if someone was trying to fix my light and it was working.

Perhaps I won't become one of those exquisite lanterns that people carry around during the Mid-Autumn festival, but I am contented with being one that's simply for decoration—like simple pleasures in life, a simple patch-up is needed—a bandage over my heart here, a plaster there—to get the light to work again.

It is the first step towards leaving the past behind and coming to terms with the fact that I will not see you again, but I am building the bridge with my own two hands, and I am confident that I will be able to cross it.

So it is unexpected that I find my hard work to forget your face—all your queer expressions and our countless conversations under the starry skies at night—crumbling down in an instant. The bridge is gone in an instant, and I should have known that it takes more than a simple dressing to fix the wound.