- Joined
- Apr 24, 2022
- Messages
- 1,502
- Reaction score
- 4,335
- Pronouns
- She/Her
- Staff
- #1
Do you want something, more than anything else? Do you love me, more than anything else? I'd fall thirteen floors if you asked.
Contains: Trainwreckshipping(even I'm surprised) Mildly suggestive scenarios, mild swearing, religious themes, mild violence and a dose of people a little too unhealthy.
The theme I chose was 'new life'. Make of that what you will.
Arceus didn’t make angels.
That was what he had believed since letting go of his sister’s hand at a tender age, what he had learned and taken as truth as he wandered the map of the Sinnoh region in his youth, and what he had assumed was fact in his adulthood so carefully constructed in the four corners of his small apartment. It was in those same four corners he often found himself slumped against the wall, forced to ponder ideologies he had long since buried.
Volo had no intention of ever remaining in one place long, too absorbed in both pipedreams and the fragile hope of finding something to spark a flame in his life like mythos had once before. He had scaled the heights of Mt. Coronet’s majesty with no more than a lukewarm appreciation, stared vacantly into the worn books found in the Canalave Library and mutely watched the diamond dust snowfall outside Snowpoint Temple.
Whatever grandiose awe that was meant to alight his spirit like so many wanderers before him had not once kindled even smoke.
It was not any external force that denied him his true calling, rather it was undeniable he could have lived free of his sister’s shadow if he joined her in her research. After all, who could have any feat of their own recognized when their sibling was the reigning Champion of the region? Even still, it was this same sibling he heeded the advice of when she had passively suggested her little brother have “a change of pace”.
He hadn’t initially planned for Hearthome City to be any part of that “change of pace”. The aimless trainer was more woodsman than city man, yet there he stood signing a short lease on the urban complex in hopes of something catching his eye while he finally stood still, now under a ceiling instead of stars. Yet even with unfamiliar scenery, he found himself always wandering through the greenery Route 209 had to offer, letting his Pokemon roam before returning to his temporary home at sunset. Like so many sights before it, his days at Hearthome offered him nothing of note.
That was, until a particularly faithful day he returned home later than usual, a sleeping Togepi nonchalantly tucked under his arm.
The sound of keys rattling against a lock were heard by no one, just as that same emptiness of the cramped yet empty walls greeted him. The silence would have been lonesome to any other, but to the roosting wanderer the silence was routine, a peaceful cycle of neither happiness nor unhappiness. His slumbering partner was placed on his pillow with all the gentleness he could muster, using the time he was allotted gazing at the creature’s shut lids to decide what he would settle for for a meal tonight. Food was at least something to look forward to, it kept his hands busy when there was no book to offer the same respite. With little reluctance he pulled away from his sole ally, basking in the fading light of the day with the chore of flipping a lightswitch in mind.
There was an issue with his order of affairs though, routines were such fragile little things, broken by the smallest of disturbances– in this case, a noticeable white luminescence in his peripheral. At first he mentally cursed himself, assuming the glow came from no more than the full moon over his apartment balcony he had neglected drawing the curtains over. The blonde vagrant clicked his tongue, meandering over to the minor inconvenience with intentions to correct it for his slumbering Pokemon if nothing else, but the closer he drew to the serene brightness the sooner his reality crept into view.
There, on his balcony sat a lithe young man wrapped in that incriminating ethereal glow.
It was as if the stranger hadn’t even noticed another was there, or that he wasn’t even worried at all about intruding in another’s living space since he had practically manifested in the vagrant’s home like a phantom. The lease was cheap enough Volo wouldn’t have put it past the landlord to have slid him the keys knowing the very space he would occupy was haunted.
The ‘intruder’ was donned in white, that same pearlescence likely reflecting the glow of the moon in such a way that his presence seemed supernatural, his pale features equally not serving as any favors to apply logic to the scenario. There was no color to apply to his features either; trimmed silver tresses danced in the gentle breeze, and the only pigment of a living human being that could be applied to the man was the light dust of pink on otherwise ghostly cheeks.
Volo’s lips parted to speak, his intention to break the silence with any normal person’s interrogation at a stranger in their home; ‘who are you?’ and ‘how did you get in here?’ were the first that naturally came to mind. There was a fatal flaw in that line of thinking, not because he had soon gathered the man who still had not seemed to notice his presence was in fact of this world, but because of his own stilted, abnormal destination of thought.
Volo was no normal person, and this was clearly not a normal man.
“...You’ll fall if you keep leaning forward like that.” were the words released to the air instead.
Finally, silver hues made contact with dull grey, the stranger’s once placid features forming into a serene smile at the other, as if he were not troubled by such a risk at all. “I will not. Even if ‘I’ do, it will be fine.” His speech was just as strange as his person, his reply was awkward, the wording similar to a newborn Stantler finding its feet. He didn’t exactly believe that statement either, but the man was too enraptured in the way the other responded to cast accusation, instead, he willingly walked into the snare. “...So what are you doing out here?” Volo had already cast aside the idea he was hallucinating, yet for all possibilities present he kept his distance, somehow finding the ability to nonchalantly tuck his hands into his sweater pockets and leaning against the doorframe. “The moon looked prettiest from here, so ‘I’ came here. To you.” Things were swiftly leaving the realm of the ordinary, and as coolly as the more human man present attempted to play things, it was becoming more difficult to do so, as if he were following some story that was made up as they went. “To me specifically? Really, now.” Anyone else would have played off the conversation as some Pokemon’s attempt at mimicry, and with how fractured every syllable left the one dangling over the railing, he too would have come to that conclusion.
Yet somehow, he didn’t, no matter how much it felt as though he were speaking with someone almost nonexistent.
“Mhm. To you. Specifically.” An answer that only led to more questions, none of which Volo voiced aloud in any more than a scoff. “What are you then? My ‘guardian angel’?” Vitriol trickled into his voice, vitriol that was not directed at the supposed spirit before him, but uprooted, brought forth from the earth from his words and presence alone. “‘I’ could be if you wanted. Just an angel if not. Or something like it. You can believe that.” Every vestige of the moment felt like some dream meant to mock him for his incompetence, to mock him for stagnating in a life of nothing. What, so now he was supposed to believe that some holy vessel was to turn that nothing into something? “Arceus didn’t make angels, you know. Humans made those up later just to make stories a little more interesting.” As often as history and myth blended together, he could easily glean that between epitaphs and storybooks. His ‘debate partner’ leaned back, opting to keep that gaze fixated on the other. “Maybe Arceus didn’t make ‘me’ then. Maybe ‘I’ am not an angel. Or anything like that at all.” His intruder gracefully swung himself back over the balcony, past the danger that had taunted him thirteen floors below. The motion that should have been quick was instead strangely delayed, as if the being before him were wading through water.
Volo could feel his shoulders tense, watching as pure white dress shoes met the ground before him in slow motion.
“‘I’ can be whatever you want then.” His angelic stranger playfully crossed his arms behind his back, drawing toward the taller man as if he weren’t touching the ground at all. Volo instinctively found himself withdrawing, but clumsily only remaining planted at that midpoint between the balcony and living room. It wasn’t really any fear of his life being threatened so much as it was the natural human condition of repelling the unknown.
A feeling he actually didn’t know he could ever feel before, almost relishing in it as the spindly alien invaded his personal space, something he clearly would have taken more advantage of if not for their height difference.
“Can ‘I’ stay? ‘I’ want to stay here. For a bit. Until ‘my’ wings grow. ‘I’ can leave after that.” There was no longer any use in concerning himself with the sensibility of what was taking place. The world was vast, full of Pokemon capable of all sorts of mysterious events, events recorded in history that sounded just as impossible as the being standing before him. It was those impossibilities he had grown chasing the high of, the possibility of Arceus Itself taking corporeal form and descending from Its celestial plane down before his very eyes was a dream he had long pursued since Cynthia read him storybooks.
But this man was not Arceus, not even a Pokemon to ascribe a legend.
And yet…
His lips parted, bathing in those seconds that felt like eons. “...A forward request, but I’m not against it.” He wouldn’t dare get his hopes up, but maybe the change of pace would entertain him for a bit, if nothing else. The taller of the two lifted himself from his roost against the doorframe, walking back inside without a gesture to follow. “Just be aware I only ever really buy enough groceries for Togepi and I.” The ‘angel’ smiled brightly, not deterred by that fact in the least, staring with a reverence toward his newly appointed keeper. “Emmet doesn’t need things like that. Just somewhere comfy will do.”
–
The angel’s name was ‘Emmet’, that was something he learned the night they met. The categorization of being an angel was something Volo had hesitated to assign his new roommate if only because it shook the core of his very beliefs, but no other title sat as nicely between Emmet’s shoulder blades. Said angel did not have as ethereal a glow as that night beneath the moon, his ghostly features tinted more human underneath the faulty light of his much too small apartment, further blurring the events of the evening between dream and reality.
To be honest, he had expected his silver haired ward to be gone by morning, for his very existence to be held within the expanse of his dreamscape. Yet even if he willed such a desire (which he hadn’t, not yet) the subject that challenged his very worldview persisted, sitting daintily on the edge of the couch where he had left him the other night. “You mentioned not needing to eat, but I guess you don’t need to sleep either?” Volo passed the supposed angel as he entered his living room, tying up his hair to begin his usual morning routine. “Emmet does not need it. Nope.” The human of the two raised a brow, half wanting to inquire the other’s origins again, but assuming he would be given a non-answer akin to the night before. Instead he preoccupied himself with preparing brunch for himself and his Pokemon, languidly prodding buttons on the rice cooker. “I take it you’re not from Sinnoh either, hm?” Idle conversation, if nothing else. Emmet seemed to take the bait though, crawling to the other side of the couch closer to Volo’s kitchenette, resting his cheeks on his hands. “From above with the Sinnoh. Maybe not the ‘Sinnoh’ you know. Never seen ‘Sinnoh’ before. Or anywhere. Not even humans. Or you.” Silver eyes were fixated on the vagrant’s process like he was practicing witchcraft– in reality he was merely putting together some low effort rice and soup.
“What is ‘Sinnoh’ like?” He had only been exposed to Emmet a night and a half, yet he was catching on with how to communicate with his quirky mannerisms quickly, avoiding asking too much in kind. “It’s an interesting region.” He thumbed a particular broth in a nearby cabinet, pouring it into the spare pot left over the stove. “Rich in history and myth, something I took full advantage of when I was traveling the region.” His listener gave an enthusiastic nod, taking the generous answer with another morsel of innocent curiosity, “Why aren’t you still traveling then? Doesn’t Volo want to see more?” The blonde’s hands tensed, not where the socially inept angel would notice, as he was able to mask that sour thought between preparing bowls and moving them to the nearby dining table. “I’ve traveled a lot in this region already, there’s not much to see on the surface of it.” And even if he indulged in exploring ruins, his older sister was always one step ahead of him, keeping the allure of discovery just out of reach. He envied her for it, her ability to have the sacred truths of the region in the palm of her hand.
He wasn’t going to tell his guest that though.
“...I plan to get back to traveling once my stay in Hearthome is over.” He narrowly avoided saying the word ‘lease’, lest he had to monotonously explain what that headache of human construct was as well. Volo rested his cheek on his palm, absently stirring the vegetables in his soup with his chopsticks. “My older sister kept insisting I take a break, so this is technically that.” His indifference was fortunately lost on Emmet, the bright-eyed angel’s smile was unyielding. “Volo has an older sister? Emmet has an older brother!” That answer piqued the human’s own interest, raising his brows, “Oh, really? So angels can have siblings. Does he know you’re here?” It was more pleasant to steer the conversation away from his own matters, something else he was thankful Emmet was none the wiser to. “No… I lost him. Emmet has been looking all over. It’s verrrrrry hard without wings.” It was the first time he had seen the angel look so wilted, his once unflinching gaze now upon the hardwood floor. “...So you’re waiting to grow your wings to find him, do I have that right?” “Yup! That’s why Emmet is with Volo!” Just as swiftly as it was stolen from his features, that signature smile returned, and Emmet playfully reached toward the dining table to drive his mission home.
Whether it was from the leisurely conversation or the unremarkable fate of routine, Volo’s partner in crime wandered into the room at that moment. “And good morning to you, Togepi.” He attempted, as usual, a less flat greeting for his egg shaped friend, something the Pokemon always gratuitously accepted with a resounding chirp. Usually, he would have to rouse the little hatchling awake himself, but the sound of multiple voices likely did the work for him. The little ball of energy wasn’t troubled by that fact though, her chirps of excitement bouncing off the walls as she stumbled her way toward her trainer who easily transported her to the table with a free hand. “A Togepi! Emmet knew Volo had a kind heart.” So he knew of Pokemon but not humans, it was an intriguing mental note to make– the assumed flattery, less so. “You’re giving me too much credit too early.” A kind heart? If the being sprawled on his couch was in fact an angel, he wouldn’t have said such a thing. A kind hearted person wouldn’t avoid routes with fellow trainers on it. A kind hearted person wouldn’t falsify smiles wishing another would go away during every conversation. A kind hearted person would feel a hint of real emotion when their Pokemon smiled at them.
The only reason Emmet saw him as kind was because he was gracious enough to let the stranger take roost in his temporary home.
“Not too much credit. Emmet knows this. Volo is kind.” His indifference was met with insistence, something he pretended not to be bothered by, tossing his Pokemon a Pecha Berry from the counter. “There are all kinds of humans in this world. You shouldn’t trust the intentions of another so quickly.” It was phrased as a word of caution rather than a retort. “Humans can be cruel. They take advantage of Pokemon and each other.” Dull grey made contact with silver again, narrowing his eyes like a vicious Staraptor eyeing its next meal. Just like the taunt he made the night they met though, Emmet was undaunted, staring back with naive determination.
Volo was the first to drop his metaphorical blade in their unspoken battle with a sigh, “Think what you want.” He rose from his seat with Togepi in hand, keen on starting his day with a break from whatever mess he had gotten himself into. “Togepi and I are going for a walk, I’ll be back later.” A fur-lined jacket and satchel were plucked from his coat rack, letting his irritation dissipate into more negligible chores. “Can Emmet come with you?” This time the angel’s ineptitude at sensing his rising irritation prickled him, but he could at least conjure a politer answer than a simple ‘no’. “You’d catch too much attention dressed all in white like that. I’ll pick up some normal clothes for you to wear later.” He was met only with the other’s bewildered tilt of the head, but he didn’t keep his gaze on him long, instead offering no more than a two-finger salute and an unseen roll of his eyes.
He needed time to think.
The air of the city was somehow much more refreshing than it usually was. The air in his living space was not any worse than usual, not literally, anyway, but something within it had shifted with the arrival of a new tenant. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he let a self-proclaimed angel into his shoddy apartment. The Pokemon nestled against his shoulder was clearly less bothered by this change of pace than he was, something he attributed to the usual nature the gentle creatures often had.
Unlike him, the Pokemon his older sister had gifted him was quite social. He was thankful she hadn’t called him recently.
Instead he entertained himself by scanning the shop windows in the novelty area of the urban expanse, attempting not to mull over the ghosts of his past. Hearthome wasn’t his first choice for a temporary stop, it was just merely where he happened to be when the decision was made. The traveler would have preferred something quainter, like Solaceon or Celestic, but it wasn’t as though rural towns like those had much in the way of room and board either. Nonetheless he at least knew the less traveled paths in the city, and even picked an ‘out of the way’ complex to supplement that need for isolation. Togepi began to chirp wildly into the air, something that roused him from the miasma of his thoughts with a jump. “Hm?” He hummed in confusion, halting his pace to watch the forlorn Pokemon for whatever she wanted his attention for.
The little creature tapped her foot, bouncing clumsily back and forth on her roost with nubby hands gesturing toward a small bakery shoehorned between two more novelty stores. Sure, he had purchased small treats from it once in a while for his Pokemon, but she had never been the first to direct him there on her own, only chirping in excitement when he had already turned his heel in that direction. If he wasn’t mistaken, they still had a tart back home to eat, so…? He made eye contact with his companion with no more than his own dumbfounded expression in response, waiting for her to give him another ‘tell’.
Her little face scrunched in conviction, and unfortunately for Volo he had been exposed to the Pokemon long enough to know what she was getting at.
“...He said he doesn’t need to eat. It’d be pointless.” His tiny friend was pulled from his shoulder, cupping her in his hands as he staked his claim. Typical of his soft-hearted Togepi to be so welcoming in his place, but on his own dime? She had always pulled him into social situations on the road, and in some way this was no different, except instead of the luxury of walking away from someone he would never see again, that ‘someone’ perpetually existed in his own home. Sadly, he didn’t have time to mull over it before the sweet little egg in his hands started to form tears in her eyes.
Well, shit. He clicked his tongue in vague irritation.
“Alright, alright. Just this once, okay?”
—
He’d expected the day to have been shorter than it was, and the walk he took in hopes of manifesting that reality did him little favor. The late afternoon sun bounced off the decorated shopping bags he toted into his apartment, admittedly spending a little more than he would have for his own necessities, but a nagging guilt would have eaten at him otherwise. He could only hope the clothes (he had spent longer than he would admit picking out) were a suitable size. The usually vacant scene that greeted him was replaced with the gentle glow of his ever mysterious guest sitting politely on a floor cushion, his fists curled atop his thighs. Said visage perked up upon his arrival, his once placid smile growing wider— cheek to cheek at the entrance of his host.
Something about the way he looked at Volo made him feel an odd twinge of embarrassment. Perhaps it was the way he left in a huff earlier that the other was entirely unfazed by, surely that.
“Welcome back!” Emmet’s warm greeting was met by Togepi’s excitable chirps, and Volo’s bashful own wave. Wasn’t it a little early in life to have someone welcoming him home like that? It wasn’t as if he could voice that sort of thought aloud though, the implications were far too dangerous to consider. “You’re sitting there as if you were waiting for me the entire time, guess angels don’t need much in the way of entertainment either?” “Emmet was ‘entertained’ enough waiting for you!” He casually dropped the shopping bags on the coffee table in front of his new companion, not reading too into a weird response like that. “Right…—”
Except he couldn’t not read into it when he then made the grievous error of finally looking at Emmet in full.
No longer was his guest flourished with the long white garb he had arrived in, instead dressed up (or rather down) in a simple shirt that dwarfed his size, one shoulder left criminally exposed in its wake. Emmet was undoubtedly wearing little else, but perhaps by the grace of Arceus Itself, he mercifully didn’t need to with the much larger shirt providing enough modesty on its own.
“That’s my—”
Mercifully, except for that single glaring issue.
“That’s my shirt.”
Arceus, help him. Even Togepi seemed to let out amused little squeaks at his stunned expression.
“I am Emmet, and this is Volo’s shirt!” Emmet stood up proudly at his friend’s astute observation, an action that Volo flinched from as if scalded. “Volo said ‘I’ needed to dress ‘normally’. So Emmet did. It’s nice.” The oblivious angel spun around, twisting just enough over his shoulder to examine his new attire with adoration. “They’re Volo’s clothes, so ‘I’ like them. Don’t you?” How was he supposed to even begin responding to that? A hand hesitantly found flustered features, and the man in question turned away, pretending to be preoccupied with putting the foul dessert he was pressured into buying out of sight. “It’s… it’s a bit too big on you.”
He made the mistake of glancing at Emmet’s reaction, that smile he had quickly grown familiar with nonexistent.
Ah, well.
“…But it’s fine. If you like it you can wear it for bed, or whatever.” Arceus, what was he saying? Why was he feeding into his damn whims? As predicted, Emmet’s smile returned at that, if he had those wings he claimed to be growing they would surely be fluttering. “Bed? So Emmet can lay in bed with Volo? Tonight?” Curse his slip of the tongue, curse him attempting to even try talking to another like he was a fellow human being. Arceus be damned, he wanted to run back out of his own apartment just to catch some air! “You said angels don’t need to sleep!” Even as he attempted to feign his usual apathy, it was futile, the noticeable crack in his tone was audible to all in the room. “Need and want are two different things. That’s what ‘I’ heard. Anyway.” Volo could feel his face burning, searing into bone, the man wanting to retreat into a shell he did not have. He wasn’t winning this.
What kind of message from above was he sent with this thing known as Emmet?
—
It was that earlier conversation that had caused the precarious situation he found himself in that evening, atop his now cramped single-person bed. A bed made for one (and his plush-sized Pokemon) had become a bed for two, one way or another, and the other living being taking up that space was an oddly cuddly sort. Even worse was the fact he could not decipher when Emmet was actually asleep through the night, or when he was awake, the silver haired menace clung to his arm the entire night, despite everything. No, rather, deciphering Emmet’s slumber was the least of his worries when the very reality of his existence was something so easily called into question. The warmth of those fingertips curled around his upper arm was a sensation as real as the joy his Togepi seemed to gain from his presence. Everything about the ‘angel’ clinging to him was real, no matter how much he still denied it.
It was the closest they had ever been to each other, even closer than the other night they met when Emmet stood on the tips of his toes, leaving no more than a breath between them.
In the moonlight that fluttered through cheap curtains he could take in the other man’s features in full, without any angelic display veiling him. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Emmet’s back, his ghostly paleness still blinding in the moon’s subdued glow, as if the Heavens themselves were desperately reminding him of the truth. There was no audience to take notice of the way Volo’s gaze fixated on the other’s parted lips for what felt like eons under the spotlight of the celestial body above. There was no audience to know he had a being like this in his very room, in his bed.
There didn’t need to be any sort of thing, something about Emmet’s existence in his world felt sacred, a being that existed only in the warmth of his gaze like the pictures and myths he chased in archives that felt only for him. A hand with uncharacteristic tenderness found the top of his former intruder’s head, reconciling with his buried passions in what he wished he could call a foolish moment. How silly it was that he had devoted so much of his life to chasing after a being that may or may not exist, only to stumble and fall short of a woman– his sister no less who stood much closer to Gods themselves than he ever would?
And here he laid next to someone no living man had carried a record of.
If Arceus Itself suddenly descended before him tomorrow, would he even be in awe of it anymore?
Without thinking about it, he pulled the angel a tad closer, silently blaming the little creature on the other side of him for making him bumble into another act of goodwill.
—
The next few days with Emmet were peaceful ones, the heralding of spring following after the angel’s footsteps across the city of Hearthome. Admittedly, Volo had paid little attention to the changing of the seasons beyond shifting his manner of dress, and the only reason he deigned to pay attention presently was the fault of the smaller man ahead of him pointing at each flowering tree they passed. “Volo, look! This one’s so pink! It’s pretty!” It was almost childish the way the other danced between the trees cornering the city’s park, his innocence bleeding into his untouched world. “Yeah. It’s nice.” As usual, his reaction was indifferent, only sparing the dappled pinks above a glance to humor the supposed angel.
He wouldn’t deny how much his routine had changed in the matter of a week though. Little by little he was learning how to navigate Emmet’s view of the world, if only to take a respite from his own dull view of it. “That building! What is it?” The one in white pointed enthusiastically toward the towering ivory pillars of Hearthome’s grand cathedral. “Oh, that’s…” He had only been on such hallowed ground once before, visiting the place of worship on the whims of his sister.
It was a memory so far in the back of his mind, he had almost forgotten it wasn’t a dream he had.
“That’s Hearthome City’s place of worship. We call it a ‘church’’.” Emmet didn’t reply, not for a long moment at any rate, instead fixated on the visage of the structure. “Church…” Another awkward beat of silence passed between them, long enough that Volo could examine those transfixed features in full. Emmet did loosely claim to be a divine being, after all, it made sense that sacred ground would call to him.
Wouldn’t it?
“Can we go? Inside?” Expectant eyes met his, and Volo instead glanced at the Togepi on his shoulder for an ounce of mercy, but was instead met with the Pokemon’s own beady eyed stare of encouragement. “...Sure.” There was no use arguing, Emmet’s excitement at witnessing new sights was entertaining at least. That same angel beamed, gently wrapping his hand around the human’s before he could tuck it away in his sweater pocket. In any other world, the wanderer would have recoiled at the touch, but given how tactile Emmet had been since they met, he had grown used to being tugged or fussed with by the silver haired nuisance.
He couldn’t say he didn’t mind it, though.
Their trek to the cathedral was a small one taken in gentle silence. The building was far more imposing up close, the articulate stain glass that decorated the door frame almost acted as a ward, freezing all who dared approach it from passing through the invisible barrier. Volo was one of such people caught in that unseen gaze, staring at the looming expanse of marble and stone with something just short of awe. “...Volo?” His grip on Emmet’s hand had tightened before he realized it. The timid voice of the shorter beside him awoke him from his haze. “Hm? …Yeah. Let’s check it out.” Pushing open the large wooden doors worked as a meager distraction from the knot forming in his stomach.
The inside was haunting, just as it was all those years ago.
It was empty, any sign of a sermon or prayer that would have been non-existent, the aisle looking untouched by man. The statues that lined the walls stood as their only company, their stares paralyzing him like they had when he was a child.
Just like before, it felt as though he didn’t belong there.
Emmet drew forward, as if he were a puppet on a string, while Volo remained rooted near the entrance, watching the angel withdraw from his grasp and toward the shining glass window of Mt. Coronet’s majesty. Just like the night he found him, Emmet was illuminated by that glow, the white of his clothes and skin blinding in that checkered spotlight, as if he were part of the holy fixtures themselves. He couldn’t help but stare whenever Emmet froze like that, mysterious and impossible to define, his existence both frustrating and captivating.
He looked prettiest like that, doll-like and immaterial.
Volo offered silence, both in respect for their surroundings and for whatever Emmet could have been piecing together in his mind. Soon enough, he released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, walking slowly down the aisle to the holy messenger that had become his responsibility. “Ring any bells? You looked rather mystified coming in here.” Silver eyes turned to face him, that rare guileless face of his on full display. “Volo looked like that too. Mystified. Has he been here? Before?” “Yeah.” Dull grey moved to face Mt. Coronet in full, his memories of climbing the mountain himself still fresh in his mind. “Once when I was little, with my sister. Never really cared to come back since.” “Why not?” His nonchalance was met with a simple question, something so simple it contorted into a complex answer.
An answer that he was uncertain he was ready to give.
“...Never really saw a need, I guess.” The imposing window was met with a look of ire, the sight burned into his vision until he forced himself to look away. “I never felt I should visit the grounds of a God that does not care to visit ours.” Even his Togepi remained silent, the Pokemon retreating into her shell at the discomfort that permeated from her trainer. Emmet however, looked on with sympathy, “Emmet doesn’t understand all of it… But… Volo has felt ‘abandoned’ for a long time. Right?” His voice, barely above a whisper, still stretched across the walls of the holy chamber. His words were so tender, yet every truth prickled across the recipient’s skin. “Volo has been… You have been… alone.” It was a statement he wished wasn’t true, seeping into him like poison.
Be it bonding with humans or with Pokemon, no contact with another’s warmth ever resonated in any more than paltry joys, even his sister who so persistently invited him to her side didn’t actually need him there. The world that Arceus shaped was not made for him, and yet that accursed God left him astray along the torrential waves of reality. “If you’re really some angel, you know Arceus, right? Does It really care about any of us?” Venom dripped from his tone, venom not directed toward the one he was speaking to, but palpable nonetheless. He tightened his fists, unable to find any more of a response that didn’t become trapped in his throat between anguish and fury.
Yet he didn’t need to find one, two soft hands found his own, pulling him from the riptide created by a God that cast him asunder.
“Who knows? Not Emmet.” A graceless response for a graceless question. “But ‘I’ do know that Volo doesn’t have to be alone. Not anymore. Because ‘I’ am with him.” That brilliance of his was too blinding, too radiant for a wretched creature like the man before him. “You’re not. You won’t be.” He loathed how his voice quaked, how his hands tightened painfully around Emmet’s own. “You’re just staying with me until your wings grow. What then?” He couldn’t look at Emmet, he hid his shame in their intertwined hands beneath that despicable altar. “No one is ever always with you, humans just say that to make goodbyes easier!” Frustration reverberated off the high ceiling, the poor Pokemon roosting on his shoulder teary eyed to her trainer’s plight. Usually, he would have comforted her, but he couldn’t find the strength.
Instead he stood frozen, staring shamefully at his own fingers incarcerating Emmet’s own, holding back anything that would have amounted to tears.
“Then cut them off.” Huh? That brazen comment willed Volo to make eye contact at last, a cold shock filling his system. “What are you…–” “When Emmet’s wings grow. Cut them off.” The angel’s face stood against his with conviction, “If Volo is scared Emmet will leave him, he can cut them off.” Sunlight poured through the colored window that framed them, painting Emmet’s sincere visage in full. “I don’t…” What was he supposed to say to that? The angel’s furrowed brow remained, unflinching as he awaited a proper answer.
No, he was waiting for a vow. A promise.
“You know I can’t do something like that.” He batted away his own selfishness, any other person would say something like that, right? If he agreed, it would have thrown any proper humanity he had to the wind. “You can.” Emmet drew closer, their intertwined hands the only thing between them. “‘I’ want you to be selfish.” Being selfish? Perhaps Emmet had a point, with how he lived his days scorning Arceus for his tribulations and yet never once lived for himself.
Maybe it was never Arceus who brought about his suffering.
The silence of the cathedral was suffocating, what surely was mere minutes felt like hours beneath the white hot gaze of both angel and Mt. Coronet’s divinity. Volo’s mouth fell agape, clearly searching for a proper answer where there would be none. No, Emmet wanted him to come clean, to be honest with what he wanted. The human shut his eyes, releasing his hold on the angel’s hands. Instead he found purchase on the other’s back, his other supporting the back of that mess of silver hair. His answer didn’t need to come from words, they were long past using those.
His angel was pulled upward, the chaste touch of his lips like feathers against his own.
—
The midst of spring was always the most pleasant, the petals of blooming trees decorating the asphalt of the city streets, sparing its inhabitants from a monochrome dwelling. At any other time, a particular traveler would have taken advantage of the agreeable weather and started his journey anew with a sole Pokemon by his side. Instead, trainer and Pokemon sat quietly in his apartment, away from the bustling life of Hearthome City thirteen floors below. It was a day to stay inside, to rebel against the serene weather that beckoned him outward like it had any other trainer that craved the wanderlust Sinnoh sowed.
He had gained a treasure that Sinnoh’s land could not even hope to offer him, after all.
“We should check on him soon. He’s been antsy, hasn’t he?” Volo took another sip of his coffee, his free hand patting the head of his content companion. Togepi timidly smiled and nodded, brightening at her trainer’s half-hearted yet sincere smile. “A shame he was too nauseous to eat that tart you insisted on… Maybe we should get some pudding instead.” His Pokemon chirped, bouncing excitedly toward his shut bedroom door. Honestly, it seemed like she fed off whatever energy was in the room at times. He couldn’t deny his own heart rate increased when his hand met the door handle, setting his coffee aside to give it a knock. “Can I come in now, Emmet? Or are you still feeling shy in there?” He was only half teasing, given the other had shooed him out early that morning with a flustered face and little explanation.
Volo got the gist by now though.
“...You can come in.” An uncharacteristically shy voice came muffled through the other side, and Volo hesitated to take that as a signal. “You sure?” “I am Emmet and I am very sure!” That peak in his cadence told him that his roommate still wasn’t particularly ‘prepared’, but, if not now, ‘then when?’ Volo told himself. With his own reassurance, he opened the door, and the sight that greeted him was grander than he had anticipated.
Covers were strewn about the bed as if a tantrum was thrown, the specks of sunlight that petered through the sheer curtains created specks of light over the fabric sent astray. Strewn about the entire room were pure white feathers– a flurry of them, and where most of the plumage had gathered sat a familiar figure with hands still tightly curled into the bedspread, his legs on either side of him. There, trailing from his back were two large angelic wings that threatened to remove his (it was Volo’s really) already too loose shirt. Emmet faced him, silver tresses as awry as the sheets beneath him, yet they did little to hide his reddening cheeks.
He was a beautiful mess.
The human stood at the door in awe, parsing what he should even say first. Emmet hunched forward, bashfully hiding behind his newly formed appendages, an action that finally willed the other further, now only but an arm’s reach away. “So they finally grew. Guess you’re an angel after all.” His comment was at least enough to bring his angel out of hiding, the feathered one crawling toward him with a pout. “Volo is mean! He’s saying that like he didn’t believe anything Emmet said!” The blonde smirked, taking advantage of the other making himself vulnerable to sit beside him, mildly ignoring the endless plumage that he’d surely have to clean from the floor later. “I believed you. Just not in the strictest sense.” “Emmet doesn’t understand what that means at all.” His childish irritation was met with a gentle pat to the head. How easily it came that they could say such things to each other now. Weeks ago he wouldn’t have imagined he would become a person like this, just as he didn’t think Emmet would truly grow wings now.
Togepi trilled, bouncing up and down as she danced across the feathers in the room. Of course he couldn’t forget the Pokemon that helped usher him into this mess.
“May I touch them?” His hand hovered over the white plumage, waiting for Emmet’s shy nod before he placed his hand atop the curve of the wing and down to the feather tips. “C-careful. That tickles.” They were unbelievably soft, every fable about the touch of angel feathers was proven true under the ghost of his fingertips. The majesty of meeting Arceus Itself may not even compare to the concept of myth itself being broken before his very eyes.
“Do you like them?” Emmet leaped forward, bringing the other into a tight embrace, his shyness melting away with Volo’s visible fascination. It took him by surprise, but he didn’t complain, giving a complacent huff as his hands clumsily found his angel’s back. “I don’t. Not really.” Emmet pulled away enough to face him, his eyes carrying a bewilderment behind them at that comment. “Because I like you more than pointless feathers.” “E-Eh!?” Arceus, he was amusing to tease. Emmet hid his burning face in his shoulder, the heat of his embarrassment felt without Volo even sparing him a glance. If their peaceful days continued just like this, perhaps that was all he really needed. He could keep searching for the world’s truths gradually, he could explore without worrying about the encroaching mass of his sibling’s shadow.
The world offered him nothing, and yet, he found his something.
For a long while, he sat with his back against the wall, just cradling the one he assumed would fly away. Togepi had scurried out of the room a bit ago, carrying a clump of feathers with her to play with, something they both chuckled about to themselves. “...Are you sure you don’t want to keep them? Won’t it make finding your brother easier?” It had been some time since the day Emmet said that, yet it was a vow Volo had thought about every waking moment. “It would.” Emmet raised his head, fighting away the last of his embarrassment, “But that’s… okay. Emmet will still find him. With Volo. Together.” He didn’t want to be the one to hesitate, letting his free hand drift to the bedside table, procuring a metallic object that caught the late morning sun for just a moment. “You won’t ever be able to leave my side after this, you know.” His thumb slid a switch forward, the sound louder in his ears than it surely was. “‘I’ won’t leave.”
“Not ever?” “Not ever. I am Emmet and I am yours. Forever.” A small blade was raised above his angel’s back, dangling there like Damocles itself in Volo’s shaking hands. He probably should have invested in something better than a cheap boxcutter, Emmet at least deserved that much.
It was too late to think about that now, not when they both waited for him to commit to their sin.
The blade was plunged down into those precious shoulder blades, his passionate grip tightening on that frail back as feathers and blood mixed in the air of the room. Emmet cried out in pain instinctively, his own hold on Volo fierce and unyielding. It was an ugly choice, their choice they made together in selfishness as a spite against their God. They didn’t need Its divinity, no, they could even stand against it like Giratina Itself if they so chose.
They had each other, from this day forward, for better or for worse, to love and cherish until parted by death.
“Forever.”
Contains: Trainwreckshipping
The theme I chose was 'new life'. Make of that what you will.
Arceus didn’t make angels.
That was what he had believed since letting go of his sister’s hand at a tender age, what he had learned and taken as truth as he wandered the map of the Sinnoh region in his youth, and what he had assumed was fact in his adulthood so carefully constructed in the four corners of his small apartment. It was in those same four corners he often found himself slumped against the wall, forced to ponder ideologies he had long since buried.
Volo had no intention of ever remaining in one place long, too absorbed in both pipedreams and the fragile hope of finding something to spark a flame in his life like mythos had once before. He had scaled the heights of Mt. Coronet’s majesty with no more than a lukewarm appreciation, stared vacantly into the worn books found in the Canalave Library and mutely watched the diamond dust snowfall outside Snowpoint Temple.
Whatever grandiose awe that was meant to alight his spirit like so many wanderers before him had not once kindled even smoke.
It was not any external force that denied him his true calling, rather it was undeniable he could have lived free of his sister’s shadow if he joined her in her research. After all, who could have any feat of their own recognized when their sibling was the reigning Champion of the region? Even still, it was this same sibling he heeded the advice of when she had passively suggested her little brother have “a change of pace”.
He hadn’t initially planned for Hearthome City to be any part of that “change of pace”. The aimless trainer was more woodsman than city man, yet there he stood signing a short lease on the urban complex in hopes of something catching his eye while he finally stood still, now under a ceiling instead of stars. Yet even with unfamiliar scenery, he found himself always wandering through the greenery Route 209 had to offer, letting his Pokemon roam before returning to his temporary home at sunset. Like so many sights before it, his days at Hearthome offered him nothing of note.
That was, until a particularly faithful day he returned home later than usual, a sleeping Togepi nonchalantly tucked under his arm.
The sound of keys rattling against a lock were heard by no one, just as that same emptiness of the cramped yet empty walls greeted him. The silence would have been lonesome to any other, but to the roosting wanderer the silence was routine, a peaceful cycle of neither happiness nor unhappiness. His slumbering partner was placed on his pillow with all the gentleness he could muster, using the time he was allotted gazing at the creature’s shut lids to decide what he would settle for for a meal tonight. Food was at least something to look forward to, it kept his hands busy when there was no book to offer the same respite. With little reluctance he pulled away from his sole ally, basking in the fading light of the day with the chore of flipping a lightswitch in mind.
There was an issue with his order of affairs though, routines were such fragile little things, broken by the smallest of disturbances– in this case, a noticeable white luminescence in his peripheral. At first he mentally cursed himself, assuming the glow came from no more than the full moon over his apartment balcony he had neglected drawing the curtains over. The blonde vagrant clicked his tongue, meandering over to the minor inconvenience with intentions to correct it for his slumbering Pokemon if nothing else, but the closer he drew to the serene brightness the sooner his reality crept into view.
There, on his balcony sat a lithe young man wrapped in that incriminating ethereal glow.
It was as if the stranger hadn’t even noticed another was there, or that he wasn’t even worried at all about intruding in another’s living space since he had practically manifested in the vagrant’s home like a phantom. The lease was cheap enough Volo wouldn’t have put it past the landlord to have slid him the keys knowing the very space he would occupy was haunted.
The ‘intruder’ was donned in white, that same pearlescence likely reflecting the glow of the moon in such a way that his presence seemed supernatural, his pale features equally not serving as any favors to apply logic to the scenario. There was no color to apply to his features either; trimmed silver tresses danced in the gentle breeze, and the only pigment of a living human being that could be applied to the man was the light dust of pink on otherwise ghostly cheeks.
Volo’s lips parted to speak, his intention to break the silence with any normal person’s interrogation at a stranger in their home; ‘who are you?’ and ‘how did you get in here?’ were the first that naturally came to mind. There was a fatal flaw in that line of thinking, not because he had soon gathered the man who still had not seemed to notice his presence was in fact of this world, but because of his own stilted, abnormal destination of thought.
Volo was no normal person, and this was clearly not a normal man.
“...You’ll fall if you keep leaning forward like that.” were the words released to the air instead.
Finally, silver hues made contact with dull grey, the stranger’s once placid features forming into a serene smile at the other, as if he were not troubled by such a risk at all. “I will not. Even if ‘I’ do, it will be fine.” His speech was just as strange as his person, his reply was awkward, the wording similar to a newborn Stantler finding its feet. He didn’t exactly believe that statement either, but the man was too enraptured in the way the other responded to cast accusation, instead, he willingly walked into the snare. “...So what are you doing out here?” Volo had already cast aside the idea he was hallucinating, yet for all possibilities present he kept his distance, somehow finding the ability to nonchalantly tuck his hands into his sweater pockets and leaning against the doorframe. “The moon looked prettiest from here, so ‘I’ came here. To you.” Things were swiftly leaving the realm of the ordinary, and as coolly as the more human man present attempted to play things, it was becoming more difficult to do so, as if he were following some story that was made up as they went. “To me specifically? Really, now.” Anyone else would have played off the conversation as some Pokemon’s attempt at mimicry, and with how fractured every syllable left the one dangling over the railing, he too would have come to that conclusion.
Yet somehow, he didn’t, no matter how much it felt as though he were speaking with someone almost nonexistent.
“Mhm. To you. Specifically.” An answer that only led to more questions, none of which Volo voiced aloud in any more than a scoff. “What are you then? My ‘guardian angel’?” Vitriol trickled into his voice, vitriol that was not directed at the supposed spirit before him, but uprooted, brought forth from the earth from his words and presence alone. “‘I’ could be if you wanted. Just an angel if not. Or something like it. You can believe that.” Every vestige of the moment felt like some dream meant to mock him for his incompetence, to mock him for stagnating in a life of nothing. What, so now he was supposed to believe that some holy vessel was to turn that nothing into something? “Arceus didn’t make angels, you know. Humans made those up later just to make stories a little more interesting.” As often as history and myth blended together, he could easily glean that between epitaphs and storybooks. His ‘debate partner’ leaned back, opting to keep that gaze fixated on the other. “Maybe Arceus didn’t make ‘me’ then. Maybe ‘I’ am not an angel. Or anything like that at all.” His intruder gracefully swung himself back over the balcony, past the danger that had taunted him thirteen floors below. The motion that should have been quick was instead strangely delayed, as if the being before him were wading through water.
Volo could feel his shoulders tense, watching as pure white dress shoes met the ground before him in slow motion.
“‘I’ can be whatever you want then.” His angelic stranger playfully crossed his arms behind his back, drawing toward the taller man as if he weren’t touching the ground at all. Volo instinctively found himself withdrawing, but clumsily only remaining planted at that midpoint between the balcony and living room. It wasn’t really any fear of his life being threatened so much as it was the natural human condition of repelling the unknown.
A feeling he actually didn’t know he could ever feel before, almost relishing in it as the spindly alien invaded his personal space, something he clearly would have taken more advantage of if not for their height difference.
“Can ‘I’ stay? ‘I’ want to stay here. For a bit. Until ‘my’ wings grow. ‘I’ can leave after that.” There was no longer any use in concerning himself with the sensibility of what was taking place. The world was vast, full of Pokemon capable of all sorts of mysterious events, events recorded in history that sounded just as impossible as the being standing before him. It was those impossibilities he had grown chasing the high of, the possibility of Arceus Itself taking corporeal form and descending from Its celestial plane down before his very eyes was a dream he had long pursued since Cynthia read him storybooks.
But this man was not Arceus, not even a Pokemon to ascribe a legend.
And yet…
His lips parted, bathing in those seconds that felt like eons. “...A forward request, but I’m not against it.” He wouldn’t dare get his hopes up, but maybe the change of pace would entertain him for a bit, if nothing else. The taller of the two lifted himself from his roost against the doorframe, walking back inside without a gesture to follow. “Just be aware I only ever really buy enough groceries for Togepi and I.” The ‘angel’ smiled brightly, not deterred by that fact in the least, staring with a reverence toward his newly appointed keeper. “Emmet doesn’t need things like that. Just somewhere comfy will do.”
–
The angel’s name was ‘Emmet’, that was something he learned the night they met. The categorization of being an angel was something Volo had hesitated to assign his new roommate if only because it shook the core of his very beliefs, but no other title sat as nicely between Emmet’s shoulder blades. Said angel did not have as ethereal a glow as that night beneath the moon, his ghostly features tinted more human underneath the faulty light of his much too small apartment, further blurring the events of the evening between dream and reality.
To be honest, he had expected his silver haired ward to be gone by morning, for his very existence to be held within the expanse of his dreamscape. Yet even if he willed such a desire (which he hadn’t, not yet) the subject that challenged his very worldview persisted, sitting daintily on the edge of the couch where he had left him the other night. “You mentioned not needing to eat, but I guess you don’t need to sleep either?” Volo passed the supposed angel as he entered his living room, tying up his hair to begin his usual morning routine. “Emmet does not need it. Nope.” The human of the two raised a brow, half wanting to inquire the other’s origins again, but assuming he would be given a non-answer akin to the night before. Instead he preoccupied himself with preparing brunch for himself and his Pokemon, languidly prodding buttons on the rice cooker. “I take it you’re not from Sinnoh either, hm?” Idle conversation, if nothing else. Emmet seemed to take the bait though, crawling to the other side of the couch closer to Volo’s kitchenette, resting his cheeks on his hands. “From above with the Sinnoh. Maybe not the ‘Sinnoh’ you know. Never seen ‘Sinnoh’ before. Or anywhere. Not even humans. Or you.” Silver eyes were fixated on the vagrant’s process like he was practicing witchcraft– in reality he was merely putting together some low effort rice and soup.
“What is ‘Sinnoh’ like?” He had only been exposed to Emmet a night and a half, yet he was catching on with how to communicate with his quirky mannerisms quickly, avoiding asking too much in kind. “It’s an interesting region.” He thumbed a particular broth in a nearby cabinet, pouring it into the spare pot left over the stove. “Rich in history and myth, something I took full advantage of when I was traveling the region.” His listener gave an enthusiastic nod, taking the generous answer with another morsel of innocent curiosity, “Why aren’t you still traveling then? Doesn’t Volo want to see more?” The blonde’s hands tensed, not where the socially inept angel would notice, as he was able to mask that sour thought between preparing bowls and moving them to the nearby dining table. “I’ve traveled a lot in this region already, there’s not much to see on the surface of it.” And even if he indulged in exploring ruins, his older sister was always one step ahead of him, keeping the allure of discovery just out of reach. He envied her for it, her ability to have the sacred truths of the region in the palm of her hand.
He wasn’t going to tell his guest that though.
“...I plan to get back to traveling once my stay in Hearthome is over.” He narrowly avoided saying the word ‘lease’, lest he had to monotonously explain what that headache of human construct was as well. Volo rested his cheek on his palm, absently stirring the vegetables in his soup with his chopsticks. “My older sister kept insisting I take a break, so this is technically that.” His indifference was fortunately lost on Emmet, the bright-eyed angel’s smile was unyielding. “Volo has an older sister? Emmet has an older brother!” That answer piqued the human’s own interest, raising his brows, “Oh, really? So angels can have siblings. Does he know you’re here?” It was more pleasant to steer the conversation away from his own matters, something else he was thankful Emmet was none the wiser to. “No… I lost him. Emmet has been looking all over. It’s verrrrrry hard without wings.” It was the first time he had seen the angel look so wilted, his once unflinching gaze now upon the hardwood floor. “...So you’re waiting to grow your wings to find him, do I have that right?” “Yup! That’s why Emmet is with Volo!” Just as swiftly as it was stolen from his features, that signature smile returned, and Emmet playfully reached toward the dining table to drive his mission home.
Whether it was from the leisurely conversation or the unremarkable fate of routine, Volo’s partner in crime wandered into the room at that moment. “And good morning to you, Togepi.” He attempted, as usual, a less flat greeting for his egg shaped friend, something the Pokemon always gratuitously accepted with a resounding chirp. Usually, he would have to rouse the little hatchling awake himself, but the sound of multiple voices likely did the work for him. The little ball of energy wasn’t troubled by that fact though, her chirps of excitement bouncing off the walls as she stumbled her way toward her trainer who easily transported her to the table with a free hand. “A Togepi! Emmet knew Volo had a kind heart.” So he knew of Pokemon but not humans, it was an intriguing mental note to make– the assumed flattery, less so. “You’re giving me too much credit too early.” A kind heart? If the being sprawled on his couch was in fact an angel, he wouldn’t have said such a thing. A kind hearted person wouldn’t avoid routes with fellow trainers on it. A kind hearted person wouldn’t falsify smiles wishing another would go away during every conversation. A kind hearted person would feel a hint of real emotion when their Pokemon smiled at them.
The only reason Emmet saw him as kind was because he was gracious enough to let the stranger take roost in his temporary home.
“Not too much credit. Emmet knows this. Volo is kind.” His indifference was met with insistence, something he pretended not to be bothered by, tossing his Pokemon a Pecha Berry from the counter. “There are all kinds of humans in this world. You shouldn’t trust the intentions of another so quickly.” It was phrased as a word of caution rather than a retort. “Humans can be cruel. They take advantage of Pokemon and each other.” Dull grey made contact with silver again, narrowing his eyes like a vicious Staraptor eyeing its next meal. Just like the taunt he made the night they met though, Emmet was undaunted, staring back with naive determination.
Volo was the first to drop his metaphorical blade in their unspoken battle with a sigh, “Think what you want.” He rose from his seat with Togepi in hand, keen on starting his day with a break from whatever mess he had gotten himself into. “Togepi and I are going for a walk, I’ll be back later.” A fur-lined jacket and satchel were plucked from his coat rack, letting his irritation dissipate into more negligible chores. “Can Emmet come with you?” This time the angel’s ineptitude at sensing his rising irritation prickled him, but he could at least conjure a politer answer than a simple ‘no’. “You’d catch too much attention dressed all in white like that. I’ll pick up some normal clothes for you to wear later.” He was met only with the other’s bewildered tilt of the head, but he didn’t keep his gaze on him long, instead offering no more than a two-finger salute and an unseen roll of his eyes.
He needed time to think.
The air of the city was somehow much more refreshing than it usually was. The air in his living space was not any worse than usual, not literally, anyway, but something within it had shifted with the arrival of a new tenant. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he let a self-proclaimed angel into his shoddy apartment. The Pokemon nestled against his shoulder was clearly less bothered by this change of pace than he was, something he attributed to the usual nature the gentle creatures often had.
Unlike him, the Pokemon his older sister had gifted him was quite social. He was thankful she hadn’t called him recently.
Instead he entertained himself by scanning the shop windows in the novelty area of the urban expanse, attempting not to mull over the ghosts of his past. Hearthome wasn’t his first choice for a temporary stop, it was just merely where he happened to be when the decision was made. The traveler would have preferred something quainter, like Solaceon or Celestic, but it wasn’t as though rural towns like those had much in the way of room and board either. Nonetheless he at least knew the less traveled paths in the city, and even picked an ‘out of the way’ complex to supplement that need for isolation. Togepi began to chirp wildly into the air, something that roused him from the miasma of his thoughts with a jump. “Hm?” He hummed in confusion, halting his pace to watch the forlorn Pokemon for whatever she wanted his attention for.
The little creature tapped her foot, bouncing clumsily back and forth on her roost with nubby hands gesturing toward a small bakery shoehorned between two more novelty stores. Sure, he had purchased small treats from it once in a while for his Pokemon, but she had never been the first to direct him there on her own, only chirping in excitement when he had already turned his heel in that direction. If he wasn’t mistaken, they still had a tart back home to eat, so…? He made eye contact with his companion with no more than his own dumbfounded expression in response, waiting for her to give him another ‘tell’.
Her little face scrunched in conviction, and unfortunately for Volo he had been exposed to the Pokemon long enough to know what she was getting at.
“...He said he doesn’t need to eat. It’d be pointless.” His tiny friend was pulled from his shoulder, cupping her in his hands as he staked his claim. Typical of his soft-hearted Togepi to be so welcoming in his place, but on his own dime? She had always pulled him into social situations on the road, and in some way this was no different, except instead of the luxury of walking away from someone he would never see again, that ‘someone’ perpetually existed in his own home. Sadly, he didn’t have time to mull over it before the sweet little egg in his hands started to form tears in her eyes.
Well, shit. He clicked his tongue in vague irritation.
“Alright, alright. Just this once, okay?”
—
He’d expected the day to have been shorter than it was, and the walk he took in hopes of manifesting that reality did him little favor. The late afternoon sun bounced off the decorated shopping bags he toted into his apartment, admittedly spending a little more than he would have for his own necessities, but a nagging guilt would have eaten at him otherwise. He could only hope the clothes (he had spent longer than he would admit picking out) were a suitable size. The usually vacant scene that greeted him was replaced with the gentle glow of his ever mysterious guest sitting politely on a floor cushion, his fists curled atop his thighs. Said visage perked up upon his arrival, his once placid smile growing wider— cheek to cheek at the entrance of his host.
Something about the way he looked at Volo made him feel an odd twinge of embarrassment. Perhaps it was the way he left in a huff earlier that the other was entirely unfazed by, surely that.
“Welcome back!” Emmet’s warm greeting was met by Togepi’s excitable chirps, and Volo’s bashful own wave. Wasn’t it a little early in life to have someone welcoming him home like that? It wasn’t as if he could voice that sort of thought aloud though, the implications were far too dangerous to consider. “You’re sitting there as if you were waiting for me the entire time, guess angels don’t need much in the way of entertainment either?” “Emmet was ‘entertained’ enough waiting for you!” He casually dropped the shopping bags on the coffee table in front of his new companion, not reading too into a weird response like that. “Right…—”
Except he couldn’t not read into it when he then made the grievous error of finally looking at Emmet in full.
No longer was his guest flourished with the long white garb he had arrived in, instead dressed up (or rather down) in a simple shirt that dwarfed his size, one shoulder left criminally exposed in its wake. Emmet was undoubtedly wearing little else, but perhaps by the grace of Arceus Itself, he mercifully didn’t need to with the much larger shirt providing enough modesty on its own.
“That’s my—”
Mercifully, except for that single glaring issue.
“That’s my shirt.”
Arceus, help him. Even Togepi seemed to let out amused little squeaks at his stunned expression.
“I am Emmet, and this is Volo’s shirt!” Emmet stood up proudly at his friend’s astute observation, an action that Volo flinched from as if scalded. “Volo said ‘I’ needed to dress ‘normally’. So Emmet did. It’s nice.” The oblivious angel spun around, twisting just enough over his shoulder to examine his new attire with adoration. “They’re Volo’s clothes, so ‘I’ like them. Don’t you?” How was he supposed to even begin responding to that? A hand hesitantly found flustered features, and the man in question turned away, pretending to be preoccupied with putting the foul dessert he was pressured into buying out of sight. “It’s… it’s a bit too big on you.”
He made the mistake of glancing at Emmet’s reaction, that smile he had quickly grown familiar with nonexistent.
Ah, well.
“…But it’s fine. If you like it you can wear it for bed, or whatever.” Arceus, what was he saying? Why was he feeding into his damn whims? As predicted, Emmet’s smile returned at that, if he had those wings he claimed to be growing they would surely be fluttering. “Bed? So Emmet can lay in bed with Volo? Tonight?” Curse his slip of the tongue, curse him attempting to even try talking to another like he was a fellow human being. Arceus be damned, he wanted to run back out of his own apartment just to catch some air! “You said angels don’t need to sleep!” Even as he attempted to feign his usual apathy, it was futile, the noticeable crack in his tone was audible to all in the room. “Need and want are two different things. That’s what ‘I’ heard. Anyway.” Volo could feel his face burning, searing into bone, the man wanting to retreat into a shell he did not have. He wasn’t winning this.
What kind of message from above was he sent with this thing known as Emmet?
—
It was that earlier conversation that had caused the precarious situation he found himself in that evening, atop his now cramped single-person bed. A bed made for one (and his plush-sized Pokemon) had become a bed for two, one way or another, and the other living being taking up that space was an oddly cuddly sort. Even worse was the fact he could not decipher when Emmet was actually asleep through the night, or when he was awake, the silver haired menace clung to his arm the entire night, despite everything. No, rather, deciphering Emmet’s slumber was the least of his worries when the very reality of his existence was something so easily called into question. The warmth of those fingertips curled around his upper arm was a sensation as real as the joy his Togepi seemed to gain from his presence. Everything about the ‘angel’ clinging to him was real, no matter how much he still denied it.
It was the closest they had ever been to each other, even closer than the other night they met when Emmet stood on the tips of his toes, leaving no more than a breath between them.
In the moonlight that fluttered through cheap curtains he could take in the other man’s features in full, without any angelic display veiling him. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Emmet’s back, his ghostly paleness still blinding in the moon’s subdued glow, as if the Heavens themselves were desperately reminding him of the truth. There was no audience to take notice of the way Volo’s gaze fixated on the other’s parted lips for what felt like eons under the spotlight of the celestial body above. There was no audience to know he had a being like this in his very room, in his bed.
There didn’t need to be any sort of thing, something about Emmet’s existence in his world felt sacred, a being that existed only in the warmth of his gaze like the pictures and myths he chased in archives that felt only for him. A hand with uncharacteristic tenderness found the top of his former intruder’s head, reconciling with his buried passions in what he wished he could call a foolish moment. How silly it was that he had devoted so much of his life to chasing after a being that may or may not exist, only to stumble and fall short of a woman– his sister no less who stood much closer to Gods themselves than he ever would?
And here he laid next to someone no living man had carried a record of.
If Arceus Itself suddenly descended before him tomorrow, would he even be in awe of it anymore?
Without thinking about it, he pulled the angel a tad closer, silently blaming the little creature on the other side of him for making him bumble into another act of goodwill.
—
The next few days with Emmet were peaceful ones, the heralding of spring following after the angel’s footsteps across the city of Hearthome. Admittedly, Volo had paid little attention to the changing of the seasons beyond shifting his manner of dress, and the only reason he deigned to pay attention presently was the fault of the smaller man ahead of him pointing at each flowering tree they passed. “Volo, look! This one’s so pink! It’s pretty!” It was almost childish the way the other danced between the trees cornering the city’s park, his innocence bleeding into his untouched world. “Yeah. It’s nice.” As usual, his reaction was indifferent, only sparing the dappled pinks above a glance to humor the supposed angel.
He wouldn’t deny how much his routine had changed in the matter of a week though. Little by little he was learning how to navigate Emmet’s view of the world, if only to take a respite from his own dull view of it. “That building! What is it?” The one in white pointed enthusiastically toward the towering ivory pillars of Hearthome’s grand cathedral. “Oh, that’s…” He had only been on such hallowed ground once before, visiting the place of worship on the whims of his sister.
It was a memory so far in the back of his mind, he had almost forgotten it wasn’t a dream he had.
“That’s Hearthome City’s place of worship. We call it a ‘church’’.” Emmet didn’t reply, not for a long moment at any rate, instead fixated on the visage of the structure. “Church…” Another awkward beat of silence passed between them, long enough that Volo could examine those transfixed features in full. Emmet did loosely claim to be a divine being, after all, it made sense that sacred ground would call to him.
Wouldn’t it?
“Can we go? Inside?” Expectant eyes met his, and Volo instead glanced at the Togepi on his shoulder for an ounce of mercy, but was instead met with the Pokemon’s own beady eyed stare of encouragement. “...Sure.” There was no use arguing, Emmet’s excitement at witnessing new sights was entertaining at least. That same angel beamed, gently wrapping his hand around the human’s before he could tuck it away in his sweater pocket. In any other world, the wanderer would have recoiled at the touch, but given how tactile Emmet had been since they met, he had grown used to being tugged or fussed with by the silver haired nuisance.
He couldn’t say he didn’t mind it, though.
Their trek to the cathedral was a small one taken in gentle silence. The building was far more imposing up close, the articulate stain glass that decorated the door frame almost acted as a ward, freezing all who dared approach it from passing through the invisible barrier. Volo was one of such people caught in that unseen gaze, staring at the looming expanse of marble and stone with something just short of awe. “...Volo?” His grip on Emmet’s hand had tightened before he realized it. The timid voice of the shorter beside him awoke him from his haze. “Hm? …Yeah. Let’s check it out.” Pushing open the large wooden doors worked as a meager distraction from the knot forming in his stomach.
The inside was haunting, just as it was all those years ago.
It was empty, any sign of a sermon or prayer that would have been non-existent, the aisle looking untouched by man. The statues that lined the walls stood as their only company, their stares paralyzing him like they had when he was a child.
Just like before, it felt as though he didn’t belong there.
Emmet drew forward, as if he were a puppet on a string, while Volo remained rooted near the entrance, watching the angel withdraw from his grasp and toward the shining glass window of Mt. Coronet’s majesty. Just like the night he found him, Emmet was illuminated by that glow, the white of his clothes and skin blinding in that checkered spotlight, as if he were part of the holy fixtures themselves. He couldn’t help but stare whenever Emmet froze like that, mysterious and impossible to define, his existence both frustrating and captivating.
He looked prettiest like that, doll-like and immaterial.
Volo offered silence, both in respect for their surroundings and for whatever Emmet could have been piecing together in his mind. Soon enough, he released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, walking slowly down the aisle to the holy messenger that had become his responsibility. “Ring any bells? You looked rather mystified coming in here.” Silver eyes turned to face him, that rare guileless face of his on full display. “Volo looked like that too. Mystified. Has he been here? Before?” “Yeah.” Dull grey moved to face Mt. Coronet in full, his memories of climbing the mountain himself still fresh in his mind. “Once when I was little, with my sister. Never really cared to come back since.” “Why not?” His nonchalance was met with a simple question, something so simple it contorted into a complex answer.
An answer that he was uncertain he was ready to give.
“...Never really saw a need, I guess.” The imposing window was met with a look of ire, the sight burned into his vision until he forced himself to look away. “I never felt I should visit the grounds of a God that does not care to visit ours.” Even his Togepi remained silent, the Pokemon retreating into her shell at the discomfort that permeated from her trainer. Emmet however, looked on with sympathy, “Emmet doesn’t understand all of it… But… Volo has felt ‘abandoned’ for a long time. Right?” His voice, barely above a whisper, still stretched across the walls of the holy chamber. His words were so tender, yet every truth prickled across the recipient’s skin. “Volo has been… You have been… alone.” It was a statement he wished wasn’t true, seeping into him like poison.
Be it bonding with humans or with Pokemon, no contact with another’s warmth ever resonated in any more than paltry joys, even his sister who so persistently invited him to her side didn’t actually need him there. The world that Arceus shaped was not made for him, and yet that accursed God left him astray along the torrential waves of reality. “If you’re really some angel, you know Arceus, right? Does It really care about any of us?” Venom dripped from his tone, venom not directed toward the one he was speaking to, but palpable nonetheless. He tightened his fists, unable to find any more of a response that didn’t become trapped in his throat between anguish and fury.
Yet he didn’t need to find one, two soft hands found his own, pulling him from the riptide created by a God that cast him asunder.
“Who knows? Not Emmet.” A graceless response for a graceless question. “But ‘I’ do know that Volo doesn’t have to be alone. Not anymore. Because ‘I’ am with him.” That brilliance of his was too blinding, too radiant for a wretched creature like the man before him. “You’re not. You won’t be.” He loathed how his voice quaked, how his hands tightened painfully around Emmet’s own. “You’re just staying with me until your wings grow. What then?” He couldn’t look at Emmet, he hid his shame in their intertwined hands beneath that despicable altar. “No one is ever always with you, humans just say that to make goodbyes easier!” Frustration reverberated off the high ceiling, the poor Pokemon roosting on his shoulder teary eyed to her trainer’s plight. Usually, he would have comforted her, but he couldn’t find the strength.
Instead he stood frozen, staring shamefully at his own fingers incarcerating Emmet’s own, holding back anything that would have amounted to tears.
“Then cut them off.” Huh? That brazen comment willed Volo to make eye contact at last, a cold shock filling his system. “What are you…–” “When Emmet’s wings grow. Cut them off.” The angel’s face stood against his with conviction, “If Volo is scared Emmet will leave him, he can cut them off.” Sunlight poured through the colored window that framed them, painting Emmet’s sincere visage in full. “I don’t…” What was he supposed to say to that? The angel’s furrowed brow remained, unflinching as he awaited a proper answer.
No, he was waiting for a vow. A promise.
“You know I can’t do something like that.” He batted away his own selfishness, any other person would say something like that, right? If he agreed, it would have thrown any proper humanity he had to the wind. “You can.” Emmet drew closer, their intertwined hands the only thing between them. “‘I’ want you to be selfish.” Being selfish? Perhaps Emmet had a point, with how he lived his days scorning Arceus for his tribulations and yet never once lived for himself.
Maybe it was never Arceus who brought about his suffering.
The silence of the cathedral was suffocating, what surely was mere minutes felt like hours beneath the white hot gaze of both angel and Mt. Coronet’s divinity. Volo’s mouth fell agape, clearly searching for a proper answer where there would be none. No, Emmet wanted him to come clean, to be honest with what he wanted. The human shut his eyes, releasing his hold on the angel’s hands. Instead he found purchase on the other’s back, his other supporting the back of that mess of silver hair. His answer didn’t need to come from words, they were long past using those.
His angel was pulled upward, the chaste touch of his lips like feathers against his own.
—
The midst of spring was always the most pleasant, the petals of blooming trees decorating the asphalt of the city streets, sparing its inhabitants from a monochrome dwelling. At any other time, a particular traveler would have taken advantage of the agreeable weather and started his journey anew with a sole Pokemon by his side. Instead, trainer and Pokemon sat quietly in his apartment, away from the bustling life of Hearthome City thirteen floors below. It was a day to stay inside, to rebel against the serene weather that beckoned him outward like it had any other trainer that craved the wanderlust Sinnoh sowed.
He had gained a treasure that Sinnoh’s land could not even hope to offer him, after all.
“We should check on him soon. He’s been antsy, hasn’t he?” Volo took another sip of his coffee, his free hand patting the head of his content companion. Togepi timidly smiled and nodded, brightening at her trainer’s half-hearted yet sincere smile. “A shame he was too nauseous to eat that tart you insisted on… Maybe we should get some pudding instead.” His Pokemon chirped, bouncing excitedly toward his shut bedroom door. Honestly, it seemed like she fed off whatever energy was in the room at times. He couldn’t deny his own heart rate increased when his hand met the door handle, setting his coffee aside to give it a knock. “Can I come in now, Emmet? Or are you still feeling shy in there?” He was only half teasing, given the other had shooed him out early that morning with a flustered face and little explanation.
Volo got the gist by now though.
“...You can come in.” An uncharacteristically shy voice came muffled through the other side, and Volo hesitated to take that as a signal. “You sure?” “I am Emmet and I am very sure!” That peak in his cadence told him that his roommate still wasn’t particularly ‘prepared’, but, if not now, ‘then when?’ Volo told himself. With his own reassurance, he opened the door, and the sight that greeted him was grander than he had anticipated.
Covers were strewn about the bed as if a tantrum was thrown, the specks of sunlight that petered through the sheer curtains created specks of light over the fabric sent astray. Strewn about the entire room were pure white feathers– a flurry of them, and where most of the plumage had gathered sat a familiar figure with hands still tightly curled into the bedspread, his legs on either side of him. There, trailing from his back were two large angelic wings that threatened to remove his (it was Volo’s really) already too loose shirt. Emmet faced him, silver tresses as awry as the sheets beneath him, yet they did little to hide his reddening cheeks.
He was a beautiful mess.
The human stood at the door in awe, parsing what he should even say first. Emmet hunched forward, bashfully hiding behind his newly formed appendages, an action that finally willed the other further, now only but an arm’s reach away. “So they finally grew. Guess you’re an angel after all.” His comment was at least enough to bring his angel out of hiding, the feathered one crawling toward him with a pout. “Volo is mean! He’s saying that like he didn’t believe anything Emmet said!” The blonde smirked, taking advantage of the other making himself vulnerable to sit beside him, mildly ignoring the endless plumage that he’d surely have to clean from the floor later. “I believed you. Just not in the strictest sense.” “Emmet doesn’t understand what that means at all.” His childish irritation was met with a gentle pat to the head. How easily it came that they could say such things to each other now. Weeks ago he wouldn’t have imagined he would become a person like this, just as he didn’t think Emmet would truly grow wings now.
Togepi trilled, bouncing up and down as she danced across the feathers in the room. Of course he couldn’t forget the Pokemon that helped usher him into this mess.
“May I touch them?” His hand hovered over the white plumage, waiting for Emmet’s shy nod before he placed his hand atop the curve of the wing and down to the feather tips. “C-careful. That tickles.” They were unbelievably soft, every fable about the touch of angel feathers was proven true under the ghost of his fingertips. The majesty of meeting Arceus Itself may not even compare to the concept of myth itself being broken before his very eyes.
“Do you like them?” Emmet leaped forward, bringing the other into a tight embrace, his shyness melting away with Volo’s visible fascination. It took him by surprise, but he didn’t complain, giving a complacent huff as his hands clumsily found his angel’s back. “I don’t. Not really.” Emmet pulled away enough to face him, his eyes carrying a bewilderment behind them at that comment. “Because I like you more than pointless feathers.” “E-Eh!?” Arceus, he was amusing to tease. Emmet hid his burning face in his shoulder, the heat of his embarrassment felt without Volo even sparing him a glance. If their peaceful days continued just like this, perhaps that was all he really needed. He could keep searching for the world’s truths gradually, he could explore without worrying about the encroaching mass of his sibling’s shadow.
The world offered him nothing, and yet, he found his something.
For a long while, he sat with his back against the wall, just cradling the one he assumed would fly away. Togepi had scurried out of the room a bit ago, carrying a clump of feathers with her to play with, something they both chuckled about to themselves. “...Are you sure you don’t want to keep them? Won’t it make finding your brother easier?” It had been some time since the day Emmet said that, yet it was a vow Volo had thought about every waking moment. “It would.” Emmet raised his head, fighting away the last of his embarrassment, “But that’s… okay. Emmet will still find him. With Volo. Together.” He didn’t want to be the one to hesitate, letting his free hand drift to the bedside table, procuring a metallic object that caught the late morning sun for just a moment. “You won’t ever be able to leave my side after this, you know.” His thumb slid a switch forward, the sound louder in his ears than it surely was. “‘I’ won’t leave.”
“Not ever?” “Not ever. I am Emmet and I am yours. Forever.” A small blade was raised above his angel’s back, dangling there like Damocles itself in Volo’s shaking hands. He probably should have invested in something better than a cheap boxcutter, Emmet at least deserved that much.
It was too late to think about that now, not when they both waited for him to commit to their sin.
The blade was plunged down into those precious shoulder blades, his passionate grip tightening on that frail back as feathers and blood mixed in the air of the room. Emmet cried out in pain instinctively, his own hold on Volo fierce and unyielding. It was an ugly choice, their choice they made together in selfishness as a spite against their God. They didn’t need Its divinity, no, they could even stand against it like Giratina Itself if they so chose.
They had each other, from this day forward, for better or for worse, to love and cherish until parted by death.
“Forever.”
Last edited:
Tbh, I’ve read so many Hisui based fics that I wanted something different, so I tried being the change I wanted to see in the world LOL. He was very challenging to write, so I’m happy his demeanor came off how I hoped it would! I also can’t exactly take credit for his ‘lore’ in this universe either, my friend who has him as his muse was my brainstorming partner for this fic, and he was the one that really helped what I wanted to do for Volo take shape. He’s not on the forums but I thank him for helping me plot this nonetheless!