i don't believe in miracles, i never did.

[bijuu.]

This is a three (or four) chapter prompt written from the perspective of Noah, in present-tense. It is, essentially, a companion piece to Alli's latest prompt concerning Dakota; these are Noah's thoughts during the time Dakota is in the hospital

I. Getting away from it all.

I can only stand there and stare; there's a rushing sound in my ears, and it's drowning out my surroundings. I want to snarl and shake my head, to claw out that noise; it's like snow on a television, the insistent swarming of millions of Beedrill that I just want to crush, just to get them to shut the hell up. It's there, it's persistently insisting on annoying the living shit out of me, and there's nothing I can do about it.

I don't notice what I'm doing; am I walking? Am I standing? What's going on? I feel a stranger's hands on my shoulders, and something snaps in me; I'm not going to fight back. This guy's lucky, and I know he's got to sense it, because I can see it in his eyes when I turn my head. Just cooperate with me. Please. Don't make a scene. It's a silent plea, and his fingers curl into my jacket, warning me not to lunge at him like I normally would; like I attacked that drunk bastard at the Yule Ball, for.. I can't even remember why. Why can't I? My memory is impeccable. I don't forget things. I can still hear that rushing in my ears as the security officer leads me out of the room.

It's like someone flicked a switch; I hear nurses chattering as they head down the hallway, doctors looking important and not really going anywhere. The security guy is talking to me in hushed tones, but I ignore him, because I can hear crying, and I recognize the voice easily, so easily it makes my throat burn like someone just force-fed me pure acid. The doctor is talking, the nurse is trying to calm him down, and I can tell she's fighting the urge to ask why he's so upset. It's none of her fucking business, I want to growl. I realize I've no say in it. He can tell whoever the hell he wants, because I'm not involved anymore. I don't need to care anymore. I can't care anymore. I'm not allowed to care anymore.

I hate the feeling of wanting to care, but not being able to. I'm stopping myself from caring. Yeah, that's it.

"..Noah?"

I forgot he's here, too; he's asking me something. I can't hear him. I don't want to hear him, because I'm afraid if I do, I'll break down right there, and I can't let my own brother see me like that. He steps closer, and I can hear his boots clicking against the immaculate white linoleum of the hospital. It's too sterile, too clean. Nothing in this world should be so clean. Nothing should be so perfect. It's not natural. He scuffs a foot against the floor, shifting his weight, and tilts his head to see my face. I can sense his eyes searching for mine, but I refuse to meet his gaze.

"Noah."
"Brother...?"

Nema's here; I can feel his eyes boring into my body, as if he's looking for an answer without my consent. Artemis reaches out to touch my arm, but I suddenly wrench my entire being away from him, away from any contact. I don't deserve it. I can tell I startled him, because he backs off, retreating to Nema's side. The security officer still has a hand on my shoulder, and it's clear that he wants to escort me out of the hospital. I'm not going to let him do that. I'm not incapacitated. I'm not a criminal. I don't need his help. "...I'll find my own way out, if you don't mind." I finally speak, and it's hard; it's like there's a cluster of poison barbs stuck in my throat, and the spines are intent on puncturing my windpipe from the inside. The guy clearly minds, but he's smart enough not to interrupt me when I continue. "I don't plan on coming back. You don't need to worry about that." I want to render myself deaf, because the sobs still haven't quieted; why is he still crying? He got what he wanted. Artemis makes a shocked noise, but it dies as quickly as it begins. Nema is glaring at me, now, and I wonder if he's just waiting to make an accusation. No. He's not like that, even I know it. He'll either ask a question, or he'll find out for himself.

Right now, I just want to leave. And I do.

"Noah, what do you mean, you're not coming back? What's going on? What about Dako-- where are you going?"

I push past my brother quickly, letting my shoulder brush harshly against his. I don't turn around to make sure I didn't make him fall. I ignore the confused squeak that flees him as I ignore him, and I don't respond when Nema calls out my name in order to get my attention. I just want to get out. Let them find out for themselves. Their voices ring out after me, racing to catch up, but I'm already far enough away to pretend that I didn't hear them.

"What the hell's up with you? Noah!"
"Brother, wait!"

I know Artemis is following me; he doesn't understand why I'm leaving, or where I'm going. I can't blame him, but I'm not going to respond. I pretend not to notice when someone tries to catch my attention; they notice I'm trying to get away, and they're trying to interfere. I don't know whether Nema stayed to finally be told why his cousin is even more of a mess than he already was. No one else tries to stop me when I race down the hallway, past doctors and nurses and patients, into the lobby where I shove my way past a Chansey signing in people who are waiting for an appointment or to find out news about a friend or family member. I catch the automatic door when it closes, and I smash my shoulder against the mass of steel and bulletproof glass in a frustrated attempt to get it to stay open. It doesn't comply, instead making me wait a full five seconds before letting me out; the breeze of the early morning hits me and I nearly choke on it as I plunge a hand to my hip where seven orbs the size of large marbles are attached to a magnetic clip. I consider walking home, but it's too late for that; Artemis skids to a halt only a few feet behind me. He's not even a little out of breath, something I've been used to for years. Right now, I wish I had his Linoone endurance, so I could run home, instead of having to resort to this flashy, unnecessary alternative.

I just need to be alone.

"Why wouldn't you answer me?"

His voice is surprisingly accusing, but even more so, it's hurt. For the first time since Dakota told me to leave, I look at him. His eyes are wide, glowing with confusion and concern; when did he acquire this confidence? One corner of my lips twitches with a bitter smile; it's all Nema's influence, and I'm glad for it. Maybe he doesn't need me to protect him anymore. I immediately regret this thought when a feeling akin to claws sinking into my gut washes over me; I have to clench my hands into fists to stop myself from choking on my own poison again; I'm not even aware that it's pooling in my mouth along with the saliva it's mingled with, because I've obviously forgotten how to swallow. Artemis repeats the question, and I stare at him blankly.

"...it's not that easy, Artemis." It's all I can say. It's a pathetic line, so overused that I want to take it back and say something else, something cool. That's what I'm supposed to be, right? Cool. Yeah. I think I'm supposed to be cool. Artemis picks up on my uncertainty immediately, and I cuss myself out for being so obvious. The Ultra Ball opens up and releases Rialgo, my massive Salamence; I can see Artie's eyes dart to him, as if the dragon will give him the answer he's looking for, but he doesn't know anything. I've trained my team to obey me; the only exception is Nox, and my brother knows this.

"We both know that's a load of crap, Noah. Why won't you tell me what's going on?" His choice of words nearly astounds me, and I stand quietly for a few moments, my fingers still locked around the Ultra Ball in my hand; my Salamence is waiting patiently right beside me. I know I have to get out of this, before my brother figures out what happened. I don't want to tell him; I don't want to be there when he finds out. Maybe it's all a big joke. Yeah, that's it. The world's playing a joke on Noah Kata. I'll make myself believe that. "You've been acting oddly ever since I told you Dakota passed out that time Nema and I visited him; what happened to trusting me?"

I can feel my face heat up; it's an indirect accusation that I'm somehow responsible for this situation. Before I can reply, the door behind Artemis slides open with a metallic whoosh, and I see Nema step outside; he doesn't hesitate for even a moment, and walks right up beside my brother. I know he's caught up with the news; the look on his face is unreadable, like he doesn't want to reveal just what he's thinking, but I can tell that he's considering whether to tell his boyfriend right there and then. Artemis looks up at him, but he's staring at only me; I glare back silently, waiting for him to say something.

Silence.

That's it; I turn my back on both of them, and easily settle myself between Rialgo's vast crimson wings. He doesn't wait for me to give the word, but opens them in a heartbeat. He hesitates for a blink of an eye when Artemis steps toward me, almost pleading with his eyes for me to stay and explain why I'm acting this way. I don't even consider it; I'm furious. I'm furious at him for being so worried about me when I obviously don't even deserve any of it, and I'm furious at Nema for saying absolutely nothing. It's like he's not even giving me the benefit of the doubt.

I've had it with this bullshit.

"Noah, listen.."
"I'm done listening."
"Brother, just wait a minute and let us--"
"...just leave me the fuck alone."
"Noah, please, I'm--"

Artemis cries out my name, trying to delay my departure when Rialgo takes off, but Nema holds him back; the remainder of whatever he was going to say is drowned by the thrum of my Salamence's wing membranes against the wind. I don't bother looking back, not even when Artemis yells after me again. "I'm just trying to care about you!"

I'm positive my heart is being ripped out of my chest even as Rialgo makes his way home, further and further away from the three people I care about most in the world.

[bijuu.]

<sub>I decided it's been long enough; this is chapter 2 to the counterpart of Alli's now-completed three-part story involving a little drama/angst/tiny tragedy between Noah and Dakota. These are Noah's thoughts on the subject. I'm particularly proud of this chapter, namely because I had originally written over half of it, then lost the entire file because of an error. I finally rewrote it, and now sent it to Alli as a preview two nights ago. I was intending to continue it, but then realized that where it ends right now is a good cliffhanger, and I don't want to possibly ruin it.

Warning: This chapter contains emo!Noah, and some major self-introspection, which I am very pleased with, if I say so myself. If you know Noah at all, you'll realize this is a huge moment for him, later on in the chapter, because he's very much against criticizing himself for anything. Anyway, I'm prattling. Read on! There's still one chapter to go!</sub>

II. Shattered glass and broken hearts.

It's over between us! I hate you! Get the fuck out!

I know I'm asleep; my waking world isn't this confusing. It's a mass of swirling black and white and delicate pink. Accusing tones. Tears. Crying. I want to tear the darkness apart and get rid of it to attain at least some quiet so I don't go insane, but for once, my brain doesn't want to comply with my commands, and I'm forced to relive moments over and over again; it's like a bad movie, with flickering, reeling black and white color, rasping sound that seems to claw at my ears. Clips rewind and fast forward and eventually fade into a blur when I start to choke. It's as if something, or someone, is trying to kill me. It's the guilt. It must be the guilt, but I don't do guilt. I don't.. I don't know. It's killing me, and now I'm afraid, and I'm crying, pleading, sobbing, and I'm confused by my own actions, like a small child watching his parents being murdered. I don't understand myself. All of a sudden, I feel pressure on my shoulder and a familiar voice urging me awake.

Noah.

Is it.. him? I try to roll over to nuzzle into his neck, seeking that reassuring scent and even to maybe curl an arm around his waist to tug him closer like I used to, on those nights when I couldn't sleep and would just lay there, watching him silently, listening to him breathe and occasionally mumble something in his sleep; my heart would leap if he murmured my name, and I'd feel a surge of affection toward him. Now, I don't feel anything. That space is empty.

Noah.

Go away. Go away, I don't want you. I want him. I want him to be here with me, not some mock and a sham of what I had. Another nudge, and I swat at thin air, completely out of it, feeling my fingers closing around nothing but tangled bedsheets. I rise to half-sleep, and immediately cringe at the feeling of damp sheets pooled around my midsection. My eyelids feel too heavy to possibly lift without the help of a heavy-duty crane, and for one ridiculous moment, I consider calling for my Steelix to help me out.

"Noah, wake up."

What the hell? I bolt up into a sitting position, suddenly realizing I'm out of breath and gasping, shuddering from the effort of simply breathing; for a moment, I pull my knees up to my bare chest and lean my forehead against them, concentrating on getting my breath back to its normal speed. It takes me a moment to realize that I'm drenched in cold sweat, as if I'd just had a nightmare. ...wait. Yeah, I did. I exhale, surprised by the sobbing noise that escapes my throat, and become aware of salty stains on my cheeks; my eyes ache, and I rub them with the back of one hand angrily, furious that I've found myself in such a state.

"Brother..?"

I twitch slightly when he pushes a strand of hair from my forehead to feel it with the back of his hand, and I fight the urge to slap his hand away from the clammy skin. My mark is probably blazing green against my pale skin, and I just want him to back away before I do something I regret. Instead, I force a calm breath and lean away from him, making a soft hiss of exasperation flee my mouth in the same movement.

"Artemis, I'm just fine." I fight back, pushing his hands away when he tries to force me to face him, instead hiding behind an impassive facade and glaring at him with as much contempt as I can possibly muster in my current condition. He ignores all of it, stubbornly settling at the edge of my bed on his knees. For some reason, I spend a few moments staring at the pair of boxer shorts and oversize t-shirt he's wearing to bed; the shirt must be one of Nema's, and oddly, the revelation makes the snarling monster in my chest rear its head in disgust.

"..you were crying in your sleep." he retaliates, making my face blanch and causing me to hurriedly force up another snarl, even though I know he's perfectly capable of scenting my distress, try as I might to suppress it. Even my brother knows I don't cry. I never cry, and clearly, this situation is calling out his caring side, and I don't want it. I don't deserve it after what I made him go through. Indirectly or not, this whole situation is my fault, and I'm the last person who needs comforting. My spine is rigid, my hands tense around the sheets that I'm still clutching, and Artemis is gazing at me steadily through those blue, blue eyes of his. I can't stand it.

"I said I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

Clearly, this answer isn't the right one, because he bristles at me, his tail fluffing slightly.

"Noah, I'm not stupid--"

For some reason, this answer makes my hackles rise in turn.

"I don't need you to fawn over me, Artie, I'm perfectly alright. Leave me alone." I snap, and he recoils, retreating from me and backing a few steps away from the bed. His frustration isn't spent, though, and for some sick reason, I'm glad for it. I want him to be angry with me. I want him to insult me, if it means he'll leave me alone.

"It's been two weeks now. Why can't you admit you miss him?" he plows on, and I feel a sickening clench somewhere in the pit of my gut; why won't he leave it alone?

"...he got what he wanted." I say simply, though my voice is faltering dangerously.

"You know that's not true, Noah. Nema and I see him every day, and he--"

"Shut up. Just shut up about it, okay? He threw me out. I'm sure Nema already told you what happened." I spit the name out as if it's something bad-tasting, suddenly bitter at how easy my brother has it with his boyfriend. No problems, ever. He's spoiled, happy, and ignorant, so fucking ignorant I want to slap some reality into him. My responses are getting to Artie, and I can see it in his posture; his tail is lashing at the tip, like an irritated cat's, and he's all but ready to stomp his foot against the floor in some bratty gesture of not getting what he wants. It's wrong of me to goad him on like this and reject his attempts to help, but I'm so upset with myself I can't help but push him away.

"I'm trying to help you, Brother!" his tone is higher-pitched and more exasperated now, and I find some bizarre glee in that fact, watching his cheeks color slightly and his ears flatten against the sides of his head. His eyes are shinier than before, and I wonder whether he's going to let those tears spill over.

"I don't need your goddamn help. Not yours, not Nema's, and no one else's. I'm not a fucking child, Artemis." I hiss coldly; my hands are curling tightly around the sheets, so tightly my knuckles are turning white, but I don't even notice them slowly growing numb. I just want him out of my face, now before I physically force him to.

"Why are you so damn stubborn? Y-you can't admit it, can you? It's so painfully obvious on your face, Noah. It's killing you because you're too obstinate to ask for help, to ask for.. for reassurance. You miss him! You miss Dakota, and you're too goddamn proud to let anyone see it! You have emotions like the rest of us, despite what and who you may be. You're not invulnerable, so just admit it already, and stop saying you don't care, because you do!"

It feels as if the knot in my stomach explodes, and pure, unadulterated grief mixed with anger and frustration wells up in my very veins at an alarming rate at the mention of that name. Artemis seems to realize what he's done. He's gone too far, pushed me over the edge even though he knows what I am, how I am, and now he's trying to apologize.

"Noah, I'm sorry, I..."

"Get out of my room." I'm shaking so violently I feel I might shatter from the force of the tremors. Artemis makes a noise somewhere between a whimper and a squeak, a pleading noise that's supposed to placate me, but I'm inconsolable.

"I don't want your fucking help. Just.. just fuck off, all of you! You think you know me, know how I feel when your life is so fucking perfect it was made for you! Ever since I was born, I've been a mistake, and you've had everything handed to you!" I'm hurling accusations at him, battering him with verbal bullets even though I know none of them are fair or even a fraction of the truth, but I'm so twisted inside, so hurt and so confused I don't know what to do, so I'm reacting the only way I know how.

"..Brother, please, j-just, please, I'm.." he squeaks, tearing up in earnest now, his ears positively plastered to his skull and his eyes huge, injured, and his tail drooping along the floor. I want nothing more than to gentle him, to tell him I didn't mean any of it, but I can't stop my tirade. I just want him to go, go away and leave me alone. I don't want him to be part of my misery. He doesn't deserve being subjected to my moping. Suddenly I wish he was with Nema, blissfully unaware, not here where he can see every aspect of my longing, my nightmares and my howling grief.

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up! You have no idea how I feel, so just get out! You're a perfect little Barbie doll, nothing else, just a goddamn liability is what you are! Get out of my face, and leave me alone! Get out of my room, get the fuck out of my room!" I all but scream at him, and realize with a horrifying revelation who I sound like. I've never felt worse in my life, as if my heart is being torn two different ways out of my chest, because I know he's right, and because I'm being unimaginably cruel to the first person who reached out to me. My own brother. I'm shoving a steel spike right through Artemis' heart, and not feeling any worse for it than if someone were physically ripping my heart into pieces with red-hot pokers.

"Noah, please." he sobs in the small amount of silence that ensues, as I gather my breath, shuddering where I stand in only a pair of silk pajama bottoms, the cuffs pooling around my bare feet, watching tears running down my brother's face in a steady, continuous stream, small heaving sobs wracking his thin frame. I want to run to him and apologize for everything I said, but my feet are superglued to the floor, and I can only watch him shiver. He makes a movement as if to come to me, and I retaliate with the speed of lightning, grappling for something to throw at him without even realizing.

"Just get the fuck out."

My fingers close around an empty glass vial, and in the next second I send it flying toward Artemis. It shatters against the wall with a shrill tinkle of shards flying everywhere, and I see him stumble, startled, to the side as he's showered with slivers of glass. One of them cuts into his cheek, leaving a line of blood behind, and I don't feel sorry in the least when he flinches, and new tears well up in his eyes when he brings a hand to his bleeding face, gingerly touching it with his fingertips and shocking himself with the blood that must be pervading his senses by now. He lets out a frightened noise, and then finally backs against the door, fumbling to open it and slips out through the crack in the next few moments, shutting the door with a sharp click. I snatch up another bottle and hurl it at the door with all the strength I can muster, hearing it smash with a satisfying crack and watching it fall to the floor with a crackle of glass.

I stand still, until my own legs give out underneath me and I crumple to the floor in a sitting position, my back against the edge of my bed; I can hear Artemis stumbling down the hallway to his room, a soft click, and the creak of his bed as he crawls into it. I tilt my head and can hear several blips as he opens his cell phone and dials a number.

I think he's calling Nema.

"...Nema? H-hai.. gomennasai."

He apologizes in Japanese for calling so late, and there's a brief pause, accentuated by a very soft crackle of almost static as the man on the other end replies, his voice sleepy but quickly clearing when he hears the tone of his beloved's voice. Artemis exhales a shaky sob, replying something about possibly going over to his house for a few days. There's another silence, longer this time, and a response from Nema.

"N-ne.. i-it's no hurry. It can.."

He's interrupted by another response, and I can detect a grateful sniffle, then a noise of agreement laced with new tears. I can practically see my brother nodding, his legs curled together as he sits on his bed, jabbering animatedly into the phone like he does almost every day while he's not concentrating on training his Pokémon for a contest, only this time he's upset. Upset because of me of all people. I hate myself. My thoughts trail off and then I'm dragged back into reality when I hear Artemis denying something.

"No, no, he's... he's just.. Nema, no. It's fine, really, I.."

His voice trails off, and again I hear his voice on the other end, sounding a little stern now, like he's trying to withhold a rude remark about me just to keep Artie from becoming more upset. I lean my forehead into my hand, warding off the pounding headache that's sure to follow my recent outburst, and try to shut out the tiny hiccuping sobs that Artie can't seem to hold back.

"...Nema, please. Just let it be. I.."

Another silence permeated by an obstinate crackle.

"Brother would never hurt me on purpose."

This response is unforgiving and has an air of finality to it; I pause, lifting my head slightly from where it's nearly touching my knees, and glance sideways without moving. Artemis is still sniffling, but his tone is still vulnerable, hurt.

"..it wasn't his fault. It's bad enough what he's going through now."

I know which way this conversation is going, and I don't want to hear it anymore; I clamp my hands over my ears and bow my head, getting the overwhelming feeling of a child hiding in his room while his parents hurl abuse at each other.

"...what happened to Dakota. He's blaming himself for it, Nema, I know it. It's hurting him so much I'm afraid.. I'm afraid something's going to happen to him. He's never, ever been like this before. I-I don't want..."

The rest of whatever Artemis was going to say is drowned out by another wave of barely suppressed sobs, and I feel like the lowest creature on the planet for what I've done to him. I pray the conversation will be over soon so Artemis will just get the hell out of here before I do do something drastic. Somehow, it's as if my silent pleas are heard, because Nema says something, and then Artemis makes a sound of agreement, and chokes out a few words before hanging up.

"A-alright. ..in a little while. I love you too."

The words sting my already bruised and raw heart with their intensity; I fall into a trance-like state, listening to Artemis shuffle around his room, most likely packing and gathering up items he'll need. I'm satisfied. I got him to leave, at least for a few days. Moments pass, and I'm startled to hear a car approaching. Artemis hurries down the hall, pausing at my door for a moment, hesitating for a few seconds, but I focus on discouraging him from doing anything, and feel a sinking relief when he moves on without saying anything. Muffled voices from outside, then the roar of the motor and fading into silence.

I'm alone.

I heave myself to my feet and with an agonized snarl, ball my hand into a fist and drive it into the nearest wall, leaving a sizable crack behind; I feel a searing pain in my knuckles and watch the blood well up from the splintered skin, doing nothing to stem the flow and instead staring as the crimson makes spiderweb patterns over my skin. I can barely feel the pain, that's how out of it I am. At last, I stagger into the bathroom and run water over the injury to quell the bleeding, wandering back out into my room to collapse on the bed and curl up into a tiny ball, finally giving in to the sickening misery and letting it push and tug me into a void.

_________________________________________


The next few days drag by so slowly I'm ready to hunt down Father Time himself to threaten him to stop playing games with my head; I'm already doing a hell of a job of it myself. I spend a good chunk of my day training, beating the shit out of the dummies I've set up in the backyard, and occasionally sparring against my Pokémon, even, like my Drapion. I match the insect punch for punch, kicking up dust and sand, completely ignorant of the scrapes and cuts Zero is doling out with his claws, because the pain of the poisonous pincers cutting into me is dulled by my subconscious. It's making me delightfully delirious, adding a sharp edge to what my eyes already see, and only when the Drapion slashes a line of blood across my abdomen do I realize to stop.

My hair is stuck in clumps to my forehead and the back of my neck, and I can practically feel a river of sweat coursing down the curve of my spine and along my twitching, sore muscles that feel like they're being bathed in battery acid. I've never pushed myself this far before, and I can tell that Zero, as well as the smattering of my other Pokémon nearby are eyeing me with concern, apprehension even. I choke back a pant, and ignore the burning in my lungs; the scratches, bruises, and welts all over my back and chest are starting to dole out pain in droves, and I stumble dangerously when I reach for my bottle of water, trembling so violently I nearly knock it over. I drain the rest of it and throw it aside, letting myself back into the house and try to ignore my vision reeling. I've never felt this way before in my life.

With some effort, I drag myself upstairs, each step sending more jolts of discomfort through my body. I feel like I might be sick soon. Each breath is painful because of a hit I took from Zero's tail right to my back, and it's catching up to me now. I push the bathroom door halfway shut and clumsily kick off my shorts, turning on the water and letting myself collapse into a sitting position, slouched against the edge of the shower, with the shower drenching me and washing the sweat away. Halfheartedly, I watch tiny trails of blood racing down the drain, and let myself zone out.

It still hurts, somewhere deep inside, where I thought it could never hurt.

_____________________________________


I wake up, dizzy from the sudden wrench from sleep, to hear my cell phone vibrating on my nightstand, and fumble for it, dropping it on the floor before I can get my fingers around it securely. By the time I catch it, it's stopped ringing and the screen flashes the arrival of a new voicemail. More out of habit than interest I flick it open and accept the message.

"You have one new message from Artemis." the automated voice trills in that annoying, pre-recorded tone where every word has a monotone quality, and then the recorder kicks in, bringing my brother's voice to my ears.

"Noah, it's me. I.. I just wanted to see how you're doing. ...Call me back. Please?"

The phone bleeps, and I hang up, haphazardly replacing the phone to its original place; I have no intentions of calling him. I can't, not after what I said to him. Since sleep is now unattainable, I get up and stretch, flinching when my muscles protest against the movements after yesterday's harsh workout. Since I'm alone in the house, I don't bother putting on clothes, and wander downstairs in my boxers, gazing halfheartedly out the window to see the landscape being drenched with rain. Perfect. Subconsciously, I reach with one hand toward the back of my neck to scratch at a spot between my shoulder blades, sighing softly and slumping into one of the chairs around the table while I wait for the coffee to brew.

Almost without my noticing, I lay my head on my arms against the table and make an aggravated noise because I feel so miserable. This goes against my personality so harshly I feel like I'm betraying myself. It's not my fault, so why does it feel like I'm being dragged down? Why am I so hung up on this? Why is that every single fucking time I so much as think of him I feel like I should hurt myself to make up for what he did to himself? Why, why why!

I knead the fingers of one hand into my hair and tug on the tangled mess sharply, extracting a snarl from myself and curling my other fingers into a fist against the grain of the wooden tabletop. It's because I love him. I screw my eyes shut when the coffeemaker makes a gurgling noise and halts to signal its readiness. Because he was the first person outside my family to take me for who I am without question. He cared about me. He didn't ask me to change, didn't accuse me of being inadequate. He might've truly even loved me. How can something like this be ruined just like that? One word. One goddamn word can do something so horrible. ...This is bullshit.

I'm shaken out of my reverie when I realize my nails are leaving tiny gouge marks into the table, and lift my hand so it can return to its normal color; the knuckles of my right hand are still bruised and scabbed from punching the wall the night Artie left, and I flex my fingers tentatively, watching the colors change hue, and then become disinterested, getting up to pour myself a mug of the steaming hot coffee; Artie dislikes the smell and taste, but I relish the afterburn in plain coffee, especially when I brew it strong. Recently, I've become almost addicted to flavored coffee, though, and toned down my preferences to hazelnut and french vanilla. As I'm wandering into the living room, a flash lights up the open space, immediately followed by an ear-shattering crash of thunder; I pause in the middle of the hallway and listen for a moment as the rain slaps against the roof faster, becoming a steady rattle that forces me to think of my brother again. Artemis is afraid of thunder.

I settle into an armchair after setting down my coffee and snatching up a bathrobe because the rain is making the house seem chilly, and sit in complete silence for a moment, listening to the boom of the thunder and the crackle of lightning accompanying the pitter-patter of rain on the windows. One of my Pokémon-in-training, or, rather, one of my younger charges, a female Ekans I've named Lucid, slithers up the back of my chair and over my shoulders, gently settling into my lap and coiling up comfortably, flicking her tongue and gazing up at me steadily. I raise a hand to stroke her smooth head slowly, and she hisses contently in return at the affection. After a moment, she uncoils herself and slips to the floor, and I watch her yellow, rattle-ended tail slip behind a corner.

I hate feeling so idle, but for once, my motivation to do anything has completely deserted me; I curl up on the spacious armchair, laying across it with my head resting against the other armrest, and sigh with an air of finality, exhaling a soft 'tch' noise with it and stare at the ceiling, irritated by the lack of some form of noise, fidgeting because I'm not used to being still for no reason at all. I hate this, Dakota. I hate myself so much right now, you wouldn't believe it. Hell, even I don't believe it. Me and my fucking mouth, I swear to Arceus I should just be rendered mute. I prattle on to my inner self for some time, and it makes me, in some odd way, feel better to berate myself. I've never tried self-criticism before; I've always been what I've been, and said 'fuck you' to anyone who challenges my opinions about the world, so why am I feeling like this right now? My thoughts wander back to that beautiful pink-and-white-haired boy I've come to love so much I'd die for him, and sink my teeth into my lower lip to stop myself from uttering even a single cry of misery. What has this come to, Dakota? What am I doing? I wail somewhere in the recesses of my mind, and collapse in on myself yet again, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes to push back the stinging feeling. I refuse to cry. I fucking refuse, Dakota. I won't. I'll do anything but that. Anything but shed tears. Even you can't push me to that.

Seconds later, something small, wet and salty inches its lonely way down the side of my face.

What are you doing to me?

__________________________________


"Noah, it's me again. I'm... I just want to hear from you, okay? I'm worried. Call me."

Bleep.

"Brother, it's been almost a week. Please call me back. Please...?"

Bleep.

"Noah, dozo. Please, just.. call me. I want to hear your voice. I just want to make sure you're alright. A-aishiteruze, oniisan. Oyasuminasai.."

Bleep.

"Brother, I'm begging you. Please, call me back. I miss you. I'm worried about you. Just, please, for once, Arceus forbid stop being such a.. such a baka and call me already. Please."

Bleep.

"It's me. I don't know what the hell is going on with you, Noah, but your brother is at a breaking point right now. If you give a shit at all, stop being such a fucking dumbass. Artie is worried sick about you. Pick up your goddamn phone and call him."

Bleeeeep.

"End of messages."