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Kalos is much colder than you expected.

At least you’ve brought a variety of outfits with you, enabling you to layer them against the cold. But your fingers are still freezing, because someone isn’t here to hold them.

The plane landed in Anistar City, a city east of Lumiose. Anistar had a huge, pink rock on display, it’s meaning unknown; you could’ve stared at it for hours, lest had you spotted the Professor holding a card with your name written in a loopy, cursive handwriting.

After the rituals everyone has to go through after a flight, you find yourself shivering in the Kalos air. You severely underestimated how many layers you needed—proof of that is the way your fingers are almost frozen curled around your suitcase handle.

Augustine is right next to you, arms crossed against his chest, wearing a smile on his face as he looks at the view of Anistar. “So!” He puts a friendly hand on your shoulder, and it feels toasty. Perhaps he’s built a natural defence against the temperature. “How do you like it here? Very different from Hoenn, I suppose.”

“Cold,” is all you manage to say.

He gives a chuckle. “I forgot to tell you how cold this place was, compared to Hoenn—would you like my coat?”

You nod swiftly, right away. “Sure.” He unrolls the sleeves of his button-up first, takes his lab coat off, and hands it to you. You put in on as quick as you could, and it does shelter you much better from the climate. “Also, Professor,” you look back in his gaze, once you feel better. “What is that rock?”

“Ah, as I suspected…I thought that would be the first thing that catches your interest,” he flicks a curl of his hair. “That, mon chéri, is why Kalos is the home of Mega Evolution.”

And it clicks. You’ve read about it before, perhaps in one of Steven’s dad’s books. It’s official name has slipped you completely, but you still remember specifics, like how at eight in the evening the sundial spins in such a perfect fashion it seems extraterrestrial. It is the reason why Mega Stones were discovered in the first place.

It’s eight in the morning now, twelve hours away from the cords spinning, but it still mystifies you. You’re stuck in a stance, and maybe you would’ve been for the rest of the day too if Augustine didn’t flick at your forehead.

“Salut ma belle!” He says in a joking manner, as you drive back into reality. He holds out his hand, and you takes it. “This isn’t the only place in Kalos, [Name]. You haven’t even seen Lumiose yet.”

He leads you through the west terminal, him rolling your suitcase at his left. At first, it feels warmer inside, until you exit and find yourself hit in the face with a blast of cold wind.

“Mamoswine Road,” Sycamore describes it. “It’ll be a first.”

He helps you up on the Mamoswine idling before the four foot snow, following suit after you, sitting behind you. “Just hold the lead,” he hands you the rope. “They’re very independent, competent.”

Despite being in the middle of a blizzard, it feels peaceful. You feel the puff of your breath brush your cheeks, and it’s much better when you’re not freezing to death.

And then the Mamoswine lurches to a stop and Sycamore’s forehead collides with your shoulder.

“I—” he’s at a lost for words. “Maybe it’s your scent. It’s very flowery, savez-vous? The scent of Hoenn.”

You go back on track. Fortunately, Mamoswine doesn’t act on impulses to run anymore.

It feels like an eternity passed when you finally reach the terminal. You brush the snow off your clothes and the white coat you’re wearing.

“How much longer?” You ask, after catching your breath. It’s a shame you can’t use the Eon Flute here in Kalos. “I want to go home.”

Sycamore chuckles. “There’s a single route left after the next town, mon amie. Just grasslands, now, and then we should be in Lumiose.”

A few minutes later, you’ve left Dendemille town (without picking up a dozen bottles of Moomoo milk from a friendly girl first), and you’re now following the professor through the grassland. You’ve underestimated the height of the grass, often losing sight of Sycamore once he passes through some. It’s become embarrassing to call out his name so much. He just curves the right side of his lips and takes your hand.

At least it isn’t freezing cold anymore, right?

When you reach the final terminal, you’re already sick of Kalos. You rub your temples, trying to stop a headache you feel coming on. Sycamore’s just amused by this, as he was with every reaction you’ve had. He still has the annoying smirk on his lips, seemingly never leaving.

“Regret coming here already, mon amie?”

“No,” you retort immediately. Traveling the across routes may be hard, but there’s nothing that you’ve wanted more than to move here. Wait—maybe someone has taken that title, that title of wanting. Yes, someone’s definitely is at the top of your list of what you want. And you already have him. The thought makes you absentmindedly bring a smile to your face.

You’re still smiling when you see finally see Lumiose. The city is bigger than any in Hoenn; perhaps it’s larger than all the cities in that region combined.

It’s beautiful—buildings joined together in such a perfect way, curving around a single tower. You’ve read about this before. Prism tower, it’s called; it’s one of the Kalos region’s Pokémon Gyms.

You think back to Mauville City, Hoenn’s hub for travellers. You already know that Wattson remodelled it to fit in with the budding technology Kalos is known for (you’ve seen approximately two people use some device that projects holographic images. It’s a big step from Devon Corp’s PokéNavs, which for some reason look a bit clunky now).

It’s mesmerising, the Prism tower and how the way it looks with the sun at it’s canted angle. And you would’ve been staring at it for the rest of the day if Professor Sycamore hadn’t been there again.

“[Name]!” That’s when he caught your attention, but you didn’t turn to acknowledge it. He just sighs. “Just come to the building with the Pokéball pillars with you’re done, okay?”

“Wait, wait,” you call out, looking around in every direction to find Augustine. You spot him to your left, his arms crossed, lips pressed thin. “I’m coming now! Sorry.”

Then you’re back on track, following him on the sidewalk, he at your right side.

“You should see the city when the all the lights are on, mon chéri,” a flick at his halo of dark hair. He’s constantly fixing it; a necessity if he wants to keep the style as flawless as it is. “Heh, if dear Steven allows me to, I would take you to the best restaurant we have in this region one day.”

“Aww, thank you, Augustine. I’m sure Steven wouldn’t mind,” you say, and unexpectedly he goes silent. He stops in his tracks, making you have to turn your head to look at him. “Is something wrong?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m well,” he stutters out. “But I have to ask you a question, will you answer honestly?”

He’s confusing you a bit, but you nod. “Of course. What is it?”

“Do you trust him? Steven, I mean—do you trust him fully?”

Now he’s really freaking you out, but you hide your discomfort. “Yes, I do. Why?”

Disregarding your question, he continues. “And he does to you to?”

“Yes. I have no doubt about it.”

“Oh.” Sycamore runs a hand through his hair, smoothly. At least he’s back to his usual self. “Oh, okay. I was just wondering. That’s… that’s something I aspire to have again one day.”

You don’t have a clue what he’s talking about.

The rest of the walk to his lab is accompanied by an awkward silence. The trip wasn’t that long, but long enough for you to feel awkward energy between you two.

It’s shattered once you go through the doors. More eloquently, it was scared out of you, being pounced by a girl.

She couldn’t have been more than five years younger than you, but she has the energy of a child. She reminds you of Phoebe, the way she’s shaking your hand. You force a smile to her. “Hi?”

Sycamore, fortunately, online is back to being the French nerd he is. “Serena!” he calls to the girl. “What are you doing?!”

The girl, Serena, pouts. “A future co-worker to be! I should introduce myself!”

“I’m absolutely sure that isn’t the proper way to introduce yourself, Serena.”

More pouting. She crosses her arms, flips her hair as she turns, heading to the elevator.

Sycamore sighs. “She’s seventeen, waiting to get her degree, and she spends all her time bothering me.”

For some reason, it makes you laugh. “Ah, she’s nice, though,” you say. “I’d definitely be wanting to work with her.”

After a few more introductions to the other staff Sycamore has, you follow the route Serena had taken, up the elevator. It’s a bit tight, the elevator—you’re almost pushed against the wall, and bringing luggage around with you isn’t doing any good. You skip the second floor in favour of the third, where Sycamore’s office is, and where yours will be too.

It’s neater than you expect it. to be Really, the only thing a mess is the books arranged on his shelf, and the paintings scattered everywhere. But it’s a nice touch, and it definitely screams this is Sycamore’s office.

He points to the wall opposite of his ivory desk, a clear space. “That’s where they’re going to put your desk once you’ve got experience.”

“Ah, thank you,” you say. “Where do I stay right now?”

“Right now?” He’s confused, a blank expression on his face. “What do you mean? I’m not going to let you work!”

You blink. “What?”

“It’s the first day!” Sycamore exclaims, throwing his arms up in a way that reads completely him. “There’s jet-lag, and of course, you wanting to see the city. I don’t hold it against you. I’ll let you go, unless you want to see the apartment I’ve got you first?”

Oh, the apartment—you’ve completely forgotten about it. “I think I’ll take the latter,” you admit, stretching your arms in a way to wake you up. The entire flight you didn’t sleep at all… “I’m actually pretty tired.”

In a horrible parallel of your past life, your apartment is situated above a café. Well, since there are a lot of cafés in Kalos, it’s sort of unavoidable.

Sycamore chose the café closest to his lab, almost across it, a few meters east. It’s painted in black, a contrast to your mother’s white. He leads the way up the stairs and gives you the key.

You unlock the door and step in. It’s not much, but it’s definitely bigger than the attic you use to live in. It’s bare, no furniture, reminding you of Steven’s home. A smile comes to your face as you walk in, surveying it.

“Don’t worry about rent for the first three months, mon chéri,” Sycamore explains, resting his forearm on the doorframe, the light from the hallway giving his being a glow. “I’ll pay that. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you,” you say. “I think I’m just going to sleep.”

He backs up to the hall. “I’ll leave you to it,” and then he bows in such an elite fashion. It makes you want to laugh, but you stay put.

And in an hour you settle in, packing all your stuff away, closing your closet now full of your clothes. It’s barely noon, but when you hit the mattress you’re already asleep.

Disoriented, you jolt awake when night has fallen from a dreamless sleep. It’s around eight, maybe. There’s a ringing in your head—wait, that’s probably just your phone.

Reaching over the bedside table to get it, you know who it is without looking at the screen. You click it on. “Steven!”

The first thing you hear is a slight laugh, which you know he’s smiling with. “I love you,” is the second thing you hear, and it’s laced with static and it reminds you of all the miles away you’re from him. Your heart takes a plunge.

“I love you too,” you feel a little teary-eyed. “How was your day?”

A silent moment before he replies. “I woke up just a moment ago, but I spent yesterday a bit lonely. I didn’t leave the house.”

“Aw,” you lean back, fumbling a bit with your hair. “Don’t be so…” it’s hard to find the word. “Don’t be so dull, Steven. There’s much more to life than moping around, waiting for me.”

“In my defence, there was nothing to do.” You can hear him press his lips together. “What about you? How was your day, nine hours in the past?”

“Cold. Really cold. I rode a Mamoswine today, since the road was snowed so deep, people couldn’t trod on it. And also there’s this huge sundial in the city my plane landed in, it’s as clear as pink diamond, and guess what! It has magic, and, um….” You trail off, fearful that his attention was caught somewhere else. “Sorry.”

“Hmm? For what?”

“I—I’m a bit boring,” you twist a bit of your hair. “I’ll just…shut up. Sorry.” It’s a reflex—when you’ve told your mother about your day before, she’d brush every word off. You know now that she was just being rude, that there’s some people who would love to listen to you, but old habits die hard.

You hear Steven sigh. “Don’t feel bad, [Name],” he whispers. “Talk about anything, and I won’t mind. I love the sound of your voice.”

You want to reach into the screen and hug him tight right now, but it’s impossible. You settle for flattery. “You’re too nice to me, Steven.”

“You truly deserve it,” His voice is low. “You are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, and I have the pleasure to call you mine.”

It’s reassuring, relaxing, that you imagine him as the pillow your arms are wrapped around long after you convince him to hang up and go to work.

It was fate, waking up just before dawn cracks the horizon. Already, you’re adjusting to Kalos. You’re not sure how you feel about it.

Passing the early morning, you trod down the stairs of the apartment and find yourself in the café under it, Café Introversion. The room is already packed with people, but the noise is still at an all time low. That’s where it got it’s name from.

Pushing the door open and stepping outside, you make your way to the Labs. Surprisingly, Augustine is idling around outside, whipping his head up when he spots you.

“[Name]!” He throws his arms up, happy, something that Kalosians are pretty known for. “Bonjour! You’re really early, hmm? I have been waiting for you.”

There’s a tone in his voice that is unsettling, but you brush it off since you haven’t known him in real life for so long. “Yes?” you reply. “What is it?”

“Your permit,” he says, sounding out of breath already. Is that another Kalos thing? “Your permit for training in professorship. Well, it won’t be a full one, since it depends. If you decide to stay here, I can get you citizenship so you can be full-time. But if you want to go back to Hoenn, Professor Birch will have to assist you getting full-time over there.”

Hoenn? Go back to Hoenn? “H—how long does it last? The training, I mean?”

“Hmm? A year, at most. But you can cut it short if you’re exceptional at it.”

A year in Kalos…. A year without Steven.

Apparently you snap out of reality, because the next thing you feel is Sycamore shaking your shoulders. Your hearing tunes back in right after. “[Name], can you hear me?” Sycamore is saying, still gripping on your arms.

“Wh—what? I’m fine,” you splutter, pushing his hands away. “I’m fine.”

“Do you need rest? Have you had breakfast? Did you get enough sleep? Is it the weather?”

He’s starting to sound like your mother, back when she had one ounce of heart in her. The thought makes you frown, and his eyebrows draw deeper.

“I can get your permit alone,” he explains. “You need rest.”

“I’m fine, Augustine, really.” You force a smile, but you’re not sure if he buys it. Instead of continuing to lie to him, you admit it. “I forgot breakfast existed, honestly.”

Before you can apologise, he has your hand in his, and he’s in a flurry racing through the streets of the city.

And then you’re right outside a pure red café. How he knew the exact directions, when to turn and when to stop, you don’t know. And you have a feeling you’ll never be able to navigate Lumiose as well as him.

“Lysandre Café,” he says. There’s a forlorn look in his eyes. “My…friend…used to own this. He doesn’t anymore, but they still serve good breakfast.”

Sycamore takes you in, raising his hand to the barista who eagerly waves back. He strolls close to the counter as you feel awkward and stay back, using this as an excuse to check the menu.

“The usual, Professor?” The barista asks, as Sycamore leans low on the counter.

“Oh, yes. And,” he nods his head to you. “I have someone else with me today. What do you want, [Name]?”

“Um…” What is it with Kalos always making you embarrassed? “Pancakes?” It was the only option. You couldn’t read anything else on the menu.

The barista smiles and leaves the room as the Professor motions you to sit next to him at the counter.

“You don’t have to do this, Professor,” you say, tapping your fingers on the red wood.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” he beams. “Steven would never forgive me if you ever got hurt.”

Teasingly, you sigh. “I can take care of myself. Doesn’t he realise that?”

“I’m sure you can, mon chéri. But really?” He throws his hands in the air, in distain. “Forgetting breakfast exists? I need to intervene once in a while.”

The barista comes back, trays in both hands. He sets yours down first, then the other, and asks: “Quelle boisson aimeriez-vous, ma chère?”

Why does everyone think you’re a local? You blink your confusion. “Um, what?”

Sycamore to the rescue, as usual. “What drink do you want, [Name]?”

“Oh,” for a while there, you thought he was asking something completely off-topic from the café. “Tea, please.” The boy looks over to Sycamore, and he nods for the same. When he’s out of earshot, you whisper to the Professor. “Why does everyone think I’m Kalosian?”

He chuckles, before taking a bite out of a dish that looks delicious, but you cannot name. “You’ve got the eyes.”

The lovely barista comes back and slides both your tea, but doesn’t leave before asking Sycamore something first. “Une copine enfin, Professeur?” A glance toward you. “Pas de cela ici?”

Your neck gets a prickly feeling; they’re probably talking about you.

Sycamore takes a sip of his tea and shakes his head. “Bien sûr que non. Elle est mon collègue,” he says, sounding unusually calm. You just stare at them, confused. “Et d'ailleurs, elle a quelqu'un qui l'aime beaucoup.”

The barista winks at you, and turns to leave to the kitchen.

“What was that about?” You ask for a translation the second time, and Sycamore is just there, relaxing, halfway through his breakfast.

“Oh,” he brushes it off like nothing. “He asked why you were here, in Kalos. I told him that you were my coworker.”

You accept that explanation, yet you can’t help but wonder if there was something else to that conversation. Pushing the thoughts away, you finally remember that breakfast exists.

The day goes by cooly. It rains in the afternoon, but you’ve got all work done before lunch, and you’re idling away in the waiting area of Sycamore’s office, a little kid picking mud from his shorts your only company. Sycamore’s getting your desk ready, and even though it’s two floors away you can hear him struggling to push it in place.

You’re complementing your fingers were built when your phone rings. You pull it out immediately, and halfway though the second ring you click it on. “Hello, Steven?”

“Ah,” you can tell already that isn’t Steven. “It’s Wallace.”

You check the caller ID once more—it says it’s from Steven’s number. Could this just be a glitch, having an international number? “W—Wallace?” You stutter, trying to hide your disappointment. “Where’s Steven?”

“Doing the Champion thing, dear,” you hear him sigh. “He’s been at it nonstop since those Johto trainers came today. But what about you? How’s life?”

You shake the confusion away. “Good. I got my permit earlier. For starting a professorship. Uh,” it’s hard fishing for topics when Wallace is on the line. You still don’t know him that well, and have no idea what he’s into. Giving a wild guess, probably fashion and teasing his friends to the maximum? “Um, how about you?”

“As part of the Hoenn League, I can honestly say I am royally exhausted. I keep hearing ice break in my sleep—oh—” What was that? On the line you hear ruffling, muffled laughter, and that’s probably Steven telling Wallace to back off his stuff. And then the phone gets picked up again.

“Hello? Who is this? I’m sorry, Wallace—”

You cut him off with your laughing. “It’s fine, Steven.”

“[N—Name]! Hello!” Laughter in the back of the line again, most likely Wallace taking his leave. “Hello, I mean. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. I wanted to talk to you, anyways.”

“Oh,” he has the slightest hint of sweetness in his voice, and you know he’s grinning. Your heart drops. “What did you want to tell me?”

You wished for it to be delayed or such, or for he to learn via osmosis so you wouldn’t have to say the words. Gulping, you get the start out: “Steven, please don’t be mad at me.” And then forcing down a choke, since your throat is probably betraying you and closing, so he wouldn’t be disappointed. “Um… I have to stay here for a year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. I—Sorry.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll talk to you everyday. For three hundred and sixty-five times, there won’t past a day where you won’t hear me say I love you.”

You feel your cheeks glow red. “Steven….”

“I’ll never get mad at you, since you’re making yourself happy. And I want you to be happy, even if I can’t do that.”

There’s a sad tone to his voice, and you speak immediately to reassure him. “You already make me happy, Steven. Everything about you makes me happy.”

A sigh. Not one of sadness though, one of relief. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you say. “I love you so much too.”

The little kid you share the waiting area looks at you with a weirded out expression.

It’s nightfall when you’re done pushing your desk in position, assembling bookcases, and arranging volumes in order. Despite Kalos being freezing compared to Hoenn, sweat beads up on your forehead, and you bring the sleeve of your sweater to it.

“Feel free to skip tomorrow,” Sycamore calls out, stretching his arms in the particular Sycamore fashion. He brings up his hand to his mouth and yawns, reminding you of what Steven’s father said about him not having a normal sleeping schedule once. You want to laugh but you’re too exhausted to, so you simply puff your cheeks.

You tell him that you’ll be here tomorrow as you finish up, grabbing your bag and clicking the down button on the elevator. As the doors open the to first floor, sleep almost hits you like the wind; when you finally reach your apartment you just collapse on to bed, and sleep engulfs you right away.

The next day in Kalos is the first day, technically, in terms of office work.

You rise from dreamless darkness as the alarm rings, hitting the bell square on the top. You feel drained, despite sleeping for twelve hours, but you shake it off. After you wash up and get ready, you make your way to the lab, not forgetting to pick up a Lumiose Galette first. Breakfast now does exist again, fortunately.

The first thing you hear when you reach the third level is Professor Sycamore’s snoring. Like you had expected, he’s spent the entire night catching up on whatever he’s neglected. You force back a laugh as you set your bag down on your desk, not wanting to wake him up.

That, of course, fails. Your phone rings when you settle in your seat, and Sycamore jolts awake right away.

You pick it up, turning it to silent mode. Sycamore catches your gaze immediately, and the lopsided frown he has turns into a cheeky smile. “Good morning, [Name]. Feel free to take that call.”

There’s no hint of sarcasm of annoyance in his voice, so you genuinely smile back and excuse yourself to a corner.

You click the answer button. “Steven?”

“Here’s your daily I love you,” and he laughs. “I love you.” His voice is wobbly; although he’s laughing, you can hear how tired he his.

You quickly check the clock on the wall—it’s eight in the morning in Kalos, meaning it’s somewhere past midnight back at home. “Steven,” you say, voice stern. “Why are you awake?”

“Nothing, nothing,” a sigh, or perhaps a yawn? “I had to…clean some smithsonite.”

You try to sound serious, not to gush over his sleepy voice. “Go to sleep, Steven.”

“I love you so much.”

Your cheeks turn a bit pinker. “I love you too—now are you going to get some rest?”

“I will, maybe…maybe after this.”

There’s nothing stopping you from laughing now. “Promise me you’ll put the stones down and go to sleep now?”

Another yawn from him. “Fine, then. If you insist.” You can hear his chair creek, and you internally cheer for yourself.

“Sorry if I’m being annoying—I just care about you a lot.”

“You’re not annoying,” he whispers, when the sounds at his side of the line die down. “I don’t believe you’re annoying at all, [Name].”

“Thank you. Are you lying in bed already? That was quick. Did you even change?”

He’s silent for a second. “Um.”

It’s no use; he’s hopeless after midnight. “Go on, then. I have to go to work. It’s the first day.”

“Good luck,” you hear him jump out of bed again. “But I doubt you need it.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon, when you wake up maybe.”

Steven’s sweet laugh fills the speakers, and it hurts to end the call. But you do, and you push your phone in your purse and sit back down at your desk, looking at your hands, trying not to think of all the miles.

Professor Sycamore is actually a very good distraction. He leans on your desk, twinkle in his eyes. “Your husband, right?”

“Husband?” Did he forget, or was it just Steven’s dad again? “No, he’s just my boyfriend.” It’s a first for you, calling him yours so casually in front of people.

“Oh, sorry. I forget.” He pushes up a smile. “Seems like dear Steven misses you a lot, hmm? You can just go back there, if you want.”

“No, no. It’s fine, Augustine. I want to be here and learn at the heart. Even if I do go back, I’m not sure if Professor Birch even does Mega Evolution….”

“Saddening, but true.” Sycamore leans up from the desk, and you feel thankful, but you don’t project it verbally. “There’s only a handful of trainers with the ability to Mega Evolve Pokémon back in Hoenn, but when you get your license, I’m sure the numbers will increase by many.” He goes back to his side of the room, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he sits and says, “Professor Stone.”

It’ll only be a while until it’s not only him calling you that, but an entire generation of young Trainers.

The hours pass by quickly, as you bury yourself deeper and deeper into classifying Mega Stones by weight, colour, and main Pokémon type. It’s surprisingly not dull, and actually very interesting; you never studied individual details on the rocks alone before.

You’re too focused on wanting to learn from every word on the papers in your hands that you don’t realise the clock is already nearing midnight. You don’t even budge until Sycamore drops a bag on your desk, and the aroma of whatever is in there makes you look up.

He’s tilting his head, smiling. “Dinner,” he says, placing another bag on the table, “and a drink.”

You close your papers back into a folder, speechless, taking the food into your hands.

“It’s fine, mon chéri, no need to pay me back.” He moves to his desk, closing a laptop and putting it in his bag. This strikes you as the first time you’ve ever seen him pack up. You’ve always assumed he just lived in the lab. Sycamore opens a drawer and pulls a spare key out, and when he passes by your desk he hands it to you.

“Just lock up when you’re done, [Name].” He turns to leave, after grabbing a book from the shelf. It strikes you as odd how he’s acting, and before he reaches the elevator you call out to him.

“Augustine, why do you trust me so much?”

Was that a chuckle? He sighs happily, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiles. “Joseph Stone trusts you with all his heart, so why shouldn’t I?”

Oh, Steven’s father. You had a feeling that was the reason, but Sycamore isn’t done speaking yet. “And then there’s… last time I worked with someone as capable as you, I wasn’t who I am yet. I was cold and not attuned to the world, you know?” Sycamore breaks eye contact, opting to look down at the floor instead. “The kind of person everybody would hate. We did become good friends eventually, but I don’t think it was enough.”

It feels odd questioning him about it, mostly because if you’d done that before a year ago to your mother, she’ll snap at you. But you feel a need to help him, so you push the doubt away and speak with your impulse. “W—what about right now? What terms are you two on?”

“Last time I checked, we were good.” He presses the down button on the elevator, rolling his head back to blow hair from his face. “But that’s soon going to fade away, and we’ll be nothing.”

His vague wording leaves you feeling uneasy, that after finishing your dinner you decide to go back to your apartment.

It continues on like this for weeks, your work does, papers and papers and never seeing the end of them. When you’re finally settled in and know the location of at least three buildings offering food in Lumiose, time goes much quicker by. The only thing that’s spontaneous in your schedule are Steven’s calls. He’d used to often call early in the morning or late in the evening, but with his hours eaten up by championship, he’s learned to call you every time he has a couple of minutes of freedom. You love the one hundred and forty seconds an hour he gives to you, though. It’s so nice to hear his voice; you learn to pick up the phone before the second ring.

Another thing you’ve learned from this whole ordeal is that when a field is relatively new, there’s a whole lot of paperwork. A lot of it. Sycamore promises after you both are done with trainer applications, he’ll take you to see Anistar’s sundial in action. Hopefully, he won’t take Mamoswine road again.

But you’re still stuck at your desk, a week after he said it’ll be all done. It’s a silent day in the office today, you shuffling through half the surplus of profiles of hopeful Trainers, Sycamore doing the other half. You did expect paperwork signing up for this, but it seemingly lacks the lustre of your fantasy researching Mega Stones and travelling with your Pokémon to strengthen bonds. This is nothing Mega Evolution. This is nothing.

You sigh, laying the papers down a bit too forcefully they ruffle up. Another sigh as you push them back together, having no other option than choosing kids over another and crushing dreams. It’s ironic, you think, that this is the complete opposite problem Hoenn has.

Sycamore notices your disdain. He rises from his desk, stretching his arms out. He comes around to your corner of the room, leaning on your own table for a silent moment. It’s nerve-racking at first, but you learn fast how to deal with his gaze.

That’s when he speaks.

“You’re not happy here, aren’t you?”

The question is sudden—it breaks you out of concentration. “What?”

“Oh, I know that look, mon amie—I’ve dealt with many fractured hearts in my life.”

You don’t say anything to confirm or deny his suspicion. Forcing a smile, you turn your attention back to the profile papers in your hands.

“He’s a sweet boy, that Steven,” Professor Sycamore twirls a lock of hair, a neutral expression on his face. “Though he’s very lonely. And cold, sometimes. Is he cold to you?”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“I’m sure he loves you very much, [Name],” he says. “And I’m sure you love him very much. Cherish that.” Sycamore gets up, rubbing his eyes. “You never really know when that’ll come to an end….” He sighs.

“Did you lose someone you loved?” You don’t know what impulsed you to ask, but it’s too late to take it back.

Sycamore presses on his eyes again, perhaps to wipe a few droplets of tears. “I did,” he admits. “Je ne sais quoi. It was so sudden, and I didn’t believe at first—but that’s what the universe planned, and I can’t stop that, can I?”

“I’m so sorry,” is all you can say, but your thoughts are running over the place. This is what he meant, when he stopped on the sidewalk on your first day here; this is what he meant when he said his friendship with his old colleague will fade away to nothing. You’re filled with a new type of empathy for him, finally understanding how he ticks, and why he’s such a loveable person today—because, like you, the past carved the effect of loneliness into a person.

He shrugs.“It’s fine, [Name], thank you. I should check on the second floor. See you soon.” And he turns to leave, but without murmuring something first—“La mort ne peut être évitée.”

You’re not entirely sure what that means, yet you really don’t want to find out.

The rest of the hours go smooth and dull, except for the second you get a paper-cut on your thumb. The sting of it tugs the cloak of eeriness Sycamore cast away. You’re brought back to noticing the little details, like vibrant colours or air temperature.

Outside is cool when you leave, and something you never expected happens. Snowflakes drop themselves on your eyelashes, the first light snowfall you’ve ever seen in Lumiose. Despite having actual frozen water fall on you, you feel warm in Kalos for the first time. It’s too soon to say it out loud, but Kalos feels like home now. It’s what you think about when someone asks you where you’re from. And it terrifies you, because you might forget about Hoenn, and you might forget about a certain someone.

You sleep with your arms wrapped around a pillow. There’s the saying if you do, you’re missing someone unconsciously. But you don’t feel it only unconsciously, you also feel it consciously, emotionally, mentally. You miss Steven, and you want him here, and you miss him.

You fall asleep with a number on your mind. Three hundred and twenty-one I love yous left.

The alarm doesn’t go off the next day. It’s around nine in the morning when you do rise, and you rush to get ready in a few minutes.

You give a nod to the barista of the café you live on top of and head outside, expecting a refreshing brand new day, but walking into something else. Literally.

Someone else would be the correct term. To be more detailed, Serena, the girl you saw at your first day here.

You can see the enthusiasm on her face, before she even speaks. “Hello, hello, hello!”

“H…Hello? Is something wrong?”

“[Name]!” There’s suddenly a twitch in her eyebrow, making her look angry. She grabs your shoulders. “We have to go now.”

Wait, is Sycamore angry that you’re late? You always thought he was the type to be forgiving. “Is this because I overslept? I’m sorry.”

“What?” Serena starts tugging you to the opposite direction of the lab, to the north boulevard. “No, no, of course not. I’m taking you to Kiloude City.”