A SEVERE ANGST ADVISORY IS IN EFFECT UP AHEAD!

...okay, I'm done now. Seriously, though. I don't care whether or not you usually pay attention to authors' notes. You absolutely must know that this fic? It is ANGSTY. And I mean, like, SERIOUSLY FREAKIN' ANGSTY. Be prepared for a LOT of sad stuff up ahead, and be aware that, although there will be a happy ending (I'm too much of a sap for much else), Steven and Brendan will have to EARN their happy ending.

In less depressing and much less relevant news (seriously, this doesn't matter; you can skip to the chapter now), I just beat AlphaSapphire! *cheers* Actually, it was quite amazing. And by that I mean that it's my new favorite Pokèmon game and possibly my new favorite game of all time. Steven in it was just HAWT! Yes, I do think that Steven Stone is hawt. And no, I will not spell "hawt" in any other way when referring to a person, even if that person is animated. For those who actually care, I also find Chrom from Fire Emblem: Awakening and Descole from the Professor Layton franchise to be hawt.

Oh, yeah. I need a disclaimer. Um... I don't own Pokèmon; if I owned Pokèmon, why would I be writing fanfiction? And, obviously, I don't make any money off of this, or, believe me, I would NOT be aiming to be a teacher. Those guys get tormented by obnoxious kids for a living.

With all that ridiculous nonsense out of the way, please enjoy! Or... um... I dunno, it's too angsty for "enjoy." Please think that it's good writing...? No, that's not right, either... ...Ah, forget it. Please enjoy!

Prologue: Confrontation

Steven Stone was not easy to unnerve.

Anyone who knew him could attest to that: May ("You? Lose your temper?! Pfah! You're as cool as a fair number of cucumbers!"); his father ("Don't lose it, Steven. Although I suppose I don't need to tell you that."); Sidney of the Elite Four ("Ya beat me! Ya got some potential, pretty boy!"). Even random people knew; even Bren—

"Steven, please! Nng—no, stop, please—aaah!"

With a growl, Steven turned sharply on his heel and stalked toward the opposite wall.

Multiple sets of eyes tracked his movements as he restlessly paced back and forth, some pairs squeezing in a wince with each vigorous click of his shoes. Nurse Joy watched him warily, fully aware of his status and wondering dully what she'd do if he tried to abuse his power. The other occupants of Rustboro's Pokémon center simply stared, dumbfounded. They knew Steven. He was the heir of Devon; everyone knew him, especially those who'd seen him around town before he'd moved to Mossdeep. Anyone worth their salt could tell you that he wasn't supposed to get upset. The Stones were known to be stoic, even in the most tense of situations. Whatever could get the most blasé of the bunch so worked up would have to be pretty bad, right?

Steven raked his fingers through his damp hair, marveling at how disheveled it had become, and offered a cursory glance to the clock. 1:58 it flashed back at him. Hopefully, he'd have a bit more time before May found him; he'd fled halfway across Hoenn before she could get there, after all. (He just wanted to get away from that damn hospital; away from the condemnation of the doctors' gazes.) Then again, who was to say that she'd even come looking? Sure, he was frantic to escape the incriminations he expected her to shoot at him. That didn't mean she was frantic to shoot them. More likely, she'd celebrate not finding him upon reaching the hospital to see Bren—

"Please, just stop! Please, Steven; I won't tell anyone, just please—aaaaah!"

His hands fisted and he felt his scalp tingle as strands of his hair were tugged out of place. Exhaling harshly through his nose, he turned again, only now noticing that he'd stopped mid-stride. So, what, he wasn't going to be able to think his name now without having a flashback? Hn. How fitting. Surely Bren—"No, please!"—his friend would have a hard time hearing his name now. Sorrow clouded his brain. Was the victim of the duo, like his attacker, going to relive the incident every time his name was said? The boy'd certainly addressed him enough while it was happening.

"Steven, please... Steven, stop... Steven, don't... Steven, please!"

A myriad of whimpers, grunts, and pleas assaulted Steven's mind, followed closely by an overbearing wave of guilt. His eyes squeezed shut as he once again stopped pacing, instead trembling slightly in place. Each shaky inhale and exhale lead to more repulsion; more hatred; more disgust of himself. A heavy ball lay in the pit of his stomach. 'Arceus, what have I done?'

He was sure he wouldn't be forgiven. He was sure that he didn't deserve forgiveness. He'd destroyed his bonds with a friend and destroyed that friend's entire life in one fell swoop. And that bastard that had threatened him? He'd managed to put one of his targets in the hospital and sink the other shoulder-deep into despair with one phone call. Talk about killing two Tailow with one stone. Steven managed a humorless laugh. At least someone would go home satisfied tonight.

Now acutely aware of the piercing, worried gazes that rested on him—'Don't pity me, you fools; I don't deserve it!'—Steven whipped his head around, eyes snapping open to give a misty glare. "What are you all looking at?" he snapped. They flinched as one and immediately turned away, leaving him to shake in both anger and sorrow. With another frustrated roar, he spun around and continued to pace.

Suddenly, the doors hummed open and he froze.

Trainers scrambled away as a brunette stormed in, shoving aside anyone too slow to move out of her way. Steven himself just managed to whirl around, the closest emotion to terror he'd ever displayed flashing across his face, before she was upon him. She was clad in rumpled pink pajamas that pictured chibi renditions of smiling Skitty, but the ferocity of the teeth-baring scowl on her face was enough to make her more intimidating than a Mightyena. Heart pounding in his chest, Steven threw up his hands in a placating gesture, but his plan backfired when she seized him by the wrist and dragged him out the door.

Steven hastened to regain his footing so that he could stumble after her, but he didn't dare try to break her hold. "May—" he tried tenderly, but she was already tugging him aside by the arm and slamming him up against the wall, just barely gently enough to avoid hurting him. Glancing around told him that they'd entered an empty shop and now stood alone in a dark and desolate room. He tried a reflexive step back, but his back was against the wall, and a simple look at May's face confirmed that he wasn't going anywhere. He swallowed thickly. Hell had no fury like May when her friends were in danger, nor did it have any punishment quite as painful as her fists.

Honestly, though, Steven wasn't sure what he feared more: being attacked by May or not being attacked by May. Arceus knew he deserved whatever she could think of to throw at him.

But May didn't swing her fist into his face as he'd half-expected and half-wanted her to. Instead, she took a firm hold on his red scarf and pulled him down so that they were eye-to-eye, cursing her height all the way. Steven's steel blue eyes met May's familiar cerulean glare—teary cerulean eyes disappearing behind a black cloth as their owner pleaded for the agony to end—and he felt about two feet tall.

"Care to explain," May snarled, "why my boyfriend is unconscious in the hospital and he keeps begging you to stop in his sleep?"

...what?

I did warn you about the angst.

So, yeah. This is a fic where Steven has apparently hospitalized Brendan, May apparently blames him, Steven apparently blames himself, and there was apparently some random guy who apparently threatened Steven and was apparently targeting both Steven and Brendan.

...I am absolutely not sorry.

I am sorry for sticking Brendan in the hospital in the first chapter, though. You're adorable, Brendan! Please don't hate me!