Love is a binding force, by which another is joined to me and cherished by myself.

~ Thomas Aquinas

"And here…" I grunted with an obviously annoyed voice, "… here is the master bedroom."

I grinded my teeth together. This was not how I planned my Saturday evening. I had no intentions of staying at home and giving a tour of my new place; I wanted to be out at the club, where I belonged. Well… I thought to myself, it could be worse. I mean, of all the people to give a tour of your new apartment to, the person currently marvelling at the décor of your bedroom had to be one of the people you tolerated most. In fact, you more than tolerated being with her…

I physically shook my head when that thought crossed my mind. No, I collected myself internally; don't think about her like that. There is no way you could ever handle getting closer with this girl. She was way too strong-willed, too determined, too fiery, too beauti-

Snap out of it! I screamed at myself inside. Still, I couldn't prevent my eyes from beginning to examine the girl in front of me, who seemed to be examining my nightstand with surprising interest. High-heeled pink shoes wrapped around her slender, tanned ankles, my eyes moving up her body from the ground the up. After what seemed like an eternity of long, fit, golden legs, they fixed themselves upon the bottom of a small summer dress that so lovingly embraced her voluptuous figure. My eyes reluctantly made their way up her slender back until they reached the top of the dress, a golden necklace hanging idly on the back of her neck. Of course, this necklace was mostly covered by straight blue hair that reached a couple of inches below her shoulders. With her back towards me, I could not actually see the girl's face, but I could picture it perfectly in my mind: bl-

The girl quickly turned around to face me, apparently having lost interest in my nightstand. I hope she didn't realize I was totally checking her out, I thought to myself as I did a quick drool check. Hitting only dry skin around my mouth, I faked a cough to cover up my embarrassing check. I wanted to get her out of my room, but as I prepared my words carefully, I instantly got lost in her beauty again. She was just so jaw-droppingly gorgeous, in too many ways to describe; it was just… just…

…The way her sparkling blue eyes, which were almost the same colour as her odd coloured hair, seemed to dance with passion and excitement at all times; the way they seemed to catch a light from some unseen source, even in the darkest of rooms; and the way they currently reflected the sunset outside my apartment. My eyes were only dull specks of coal compared to the fierce blue diamonds that hung in the vast whites of her eyes…

…The way her cute nose jutted out just perfectly from between those eyes, sloping down at just the right angle on her face (of course, it was not perpendicular to her face). If you caught her at such a close range in the sunlight, you would notice faint freckles that portrayed a youth and innocence that I found almost irresistibly cute…

…The way her thin, flawless rose lips quickly separated to give way for a flash of pure white happiness in the form of a smile that could melt the hearts of even the coldest of men. Even men such as myself…

My eyes continued their downwards trend and soon I found myself looking at… well, her chest. Dangling from her neck was a gold necklace, and it had a pendant with a sparkling turquoise gem inside of it, but I would be lying if I said I was focusing on the pendant… Arceus had sure been generous in creating her noticeably robust bosom. Though she had changed a lot as a person since I first met her outside Professor Rowan's lab, the area where she had physically changed the most was now inches away from my own chest, separated only by a couple thin layers of clothes and a molecule of air or two. How I just wanted to reach out an-

"My, my," she said with a sultry voice that caught me momentarily off guard. I snapped my head upwards as she snapped her fingers to get my attention before she continued, "I should have realized it was only a matter of time before your hormones won the battle against your logic and emotionless reasoning."

I instantly began to blush deeply, crimson colouring erupting all over my face like I had had a can of paint splashed against my face.

Dammit! I swore to myself as I shook my head slightly, hoping that my blush could be removed like an Etch-a-Sketch picture. Start thinking with the head you're shaking right now! Tell your other head that if it could just settle down for about two minutes…

"Well!" I said, pretending to taken aback by her insinuation; I really needed to stop relying on my acting skills. "Is it so rude to look at such a… uh…" Dammit, I was getting flustered! "… a nice dress you are wearing?" That wasn't actually half bad, I congratulated myself for my quick thinking, I can work with this. "I simply must know what make it is." Good call, play the gay card: that usually shuts her down.

"If you must know, I crafted this lovely summer outfit myself," she said with only a hint of pride and self-satisfaction; I had forgotten that besides being an accomplished co-ordinator, that she was also an aspiring pokémon stylist. She spun around in place, which caused her hair and the floral-patterned dress to sway out behind her. "But I can't help but ask you why you would want to know…"

"Why I would want to know," I repeated her, making it seem like the answer was only the most obvious thing in the world. "Pfft. Isn't it obvious?" I added a smirk for added effect, but this only caused her to look even more confused; I rolled my eyes before continuing, "If I knew the make, I could purchase four or five more of the dresses and then I could have my own lovely cheerleading team for my battles. I haven't seen you waving those pom-poms in years, so maybe you could follow me around an-"

She punched me in the arm playfully (at least, I interpreted it as playfully). "I would never wear the same outfit as someone else!" She then gazed into my eyes before slowly turning away. What did that look mean? I thought to myself, confused. She looked out the window, which covered the entire west wall of my bedroom, for a minute or two in silence, gazing out at the lush, varied scenery below and, of course, the sunset which was currently a striking shade of pink, before turning to face me once again.

"So, champ," she said with a smile on her face, "What do you have planned for the night?" She paused, "Y'know, if you've got nothing to do tonight, I could keep you company tonight. You've got quite the place here… maybe we could rent a movie or I could cook you something nice. I'm positive I'm a better cook than you are…" she trailed off, trying to get me going with her last statement.

I want nothing more than for you to prove that to me, I thought sadly. "While that sounds quite…" Diplomatic, be diplomatic. "… pleasant, I regret to inform you…" I continued with the tone one would expect from a snooty restaurant host, "… that I already have plans for the evening."

"Oh," she replied with what I could have sworn was a look of hurt on her face. But as quickly as it appeared on her face, it disappeared. "What's the big plan, then?" she said as her usual smile reappeared on her face.

"I'm going down to the club," I stated bluntly, and I could see her expression drop when she heard the final word of the sentence. "You are welcome to tag along, if you'd like…" I added. Please say no, please say no, please say no…

"That's alright," she said coldly, and she began to walk out of my room. She picked up her purse on the counter where she had left it earlier, slinging it over her shoulder. "I wouldn't want to be one of your slutty fan-girls." She let the insult hang in the air momentarily. "Have fun at the fucking club, Mr. Champion."

I chased after her in vain, "No, don't be like that…" She slammed the door right in my face and I stumbled awkwardly into it, failing to slow myself down in time. I then slumped down to the ground below me, with my back on the door, resting my head in my hands.

Why the fuck does she always say no? was my first thought.

Why the fuck do I always turn her away? was my more logical second thought. Why didn't you spend the night with her? Fucking Mew, she's drop-dead, drool-worthy gorgeous, and she asks to have a romantic evening with you, and you say no? What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you too good for her? What the fuck is wrong with her, then?

But I knew the answer to all these questions. I knew why I always said no, why I always shut her down, what was wrong with her…

She was commitment. If I ever said yes to her, I'd fall head-over-heels in love with her, and I would be totally committed to her. I'd lose everything in life just to be with her, and I wasn't prepared for that. I still wanted to battle; fuck, I am the Sinnoh Champion! I don't want to retire now to be some lovesick puppy chasing her around as she merrily skips around the world to go to contests.

Besides missing out on battling, I'm only 21; in my mind, that's still way too young to be tied down to one person. That's why I wanted to go out to the club tonight: I wanted to get mine, but I didn't want to get committed to it. That's why one-night-stands were perfect for me. There are no personal feelings, no relationships are built, and there is no shortage of beautiful women willing to throw themselves at me for one night of pleasure: hey, being a regional champion has its perks.

This answer didn't comfort me though. In a couple of years, I will say yes, I assured myself, but saying that didn't really help. With a sigh, I got up to my knees, and dusted myself off before heading off to the bathroom. I investigated myself in the mirror, getting myself prepared to head out to a fast-food place and then down to the club.

Am I really this pale? I thought to myself as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Maybe it was the dark suit I was wearing that caused a stark contrast between it and my skin. Years of travelling had finally paid off, and a noticeable layer of muscle was present on my body; I now filled my outfit, rather than letting it hang over my frame like a curtain. I combed a few strands of shoulder-length purple hair out of my face as I investigated my face more thoroughly. My face had triumphed over the acne that plagued me in my mid-teens and the other blessings of puberty a while back and the skin was relatively clear on my face now. I checked on my chin, grooming my facial hair into place: where I used to have nothing, I now had a moustache and soul patch. I never shaved when I was still on my journey (after I started growing facial hair) to try and make myself seem older, but once I became the champion, I trimmed it and kept it more clean. Personally, I thought it looked stupid, but one day I said I was going to shave it all off and that girl told me that she thought it made me seem old and wise; ever since, I have not been able to convince myself to get rid of it.

As I left the bathroom and grabbed the keys to my car, I glanced over at the small table I had by the window. Sitting in two chairs opposite of each other were me and her, enjoying a romantic dinner at sunset. I rubbed my eyes and the image was gone. I sighed again, opening the door and locking it behind me.

I will say yes.

"What the fuck do you think you're watchin', boy?" I heard a voice boom behind me. Frozen with shock, I slowly turned my head away from the television to face the source of the question; I was greeted by the familiar shirtless, unfit figure of my father. He cracked open a Muk Light (a quick glance at the clock revealed it was exactly 2:27 in the afternoon, which is the exact time he'd begin his drinking for the day; his timing was impeccable) and slurped it noisily before he collapsed on the couch. Chugging back another sip of his beer, he exhaled loudly before he continued his spur-of-the-moment sermon on my tastes in television programs. "A pokémon battle? Holy fuck, you don't still have them queer fantasies about raising pokémon, do you? Mew, how old is you now?"

I cleared my throat, trying not to sound intimidated by his harsh tone and even stronger vocabulary. "T-ten," I sputtered. I just turned ten last month; he acknowledged it by buying me a box of brand-name cereal, which was much better than when he forgot my eighth and ninth birthdays altogether. It was supposed to me a more momentous occasion in my life than it turned out to be; back when I truly believed that becoming a pokémon trainer is what I would do in life, my tenth birthday would be the day I received my first pokémon and set out on my very own pokémon journey. Of course, when I brought it up with my dad, he couldn't stop laughing at me, so I figured he wasn't going to let me go. I still watched the competitions on television, though; it was as if it was a part of me that no matter how impossible it was to achieve, I simply couldn't let it go.

"You can't even fucking talk, and you think you gon' be a trainer? Cal," he pointed at me with his free hand as he spoke, as if he was channelling his sage advice through his finger and into my mind, "There's two types of people in this world: fuck-ups and non-fuck-ups. Non-fuck-ups are those kids you're droolin' over on the boob tube," he said as his pointing finger, which had been trained on my forehead, drifted over towards the television, "They're special, and not the retarded, stutterin' kind likes you. You're a fuck-up; you come from a long-line of fuck-ups, including me and your whore of a mother."

I flinched uncontrollably at the mention of my mother. I had never met her (not surprisingly, she hadn't stuck around to live with my drunkard of a father), and the only details I had gathered about her I had heard from my dad. He painted her as a prostitute and a total bitch to be around, and that she pretty much abandoned me on his doorstep after she had given birth to me. Naturally, I believed the exact opposite to be true (since I took everything my father said with a large helping of salt), so when he insulted her (which was a regular occurrence), it always bothered me.

"Shit," my dad startled me once again, "I need a fucking smoke." He began to pad the pockets of his blue jeans but he obviously couldn't find any. "Arceus damnit, I'm outta fuckin' smokes already? You better not be hiding any on me, son. Shit, I really wanna smoke, but I just sat down… son, if I give you a $20, will you buy me some smokes?"

I nodded my head; anything to get away from him. I stood up and trudged over to him, and he handed me a bill. "And fetch me the damn clicker before you go. PSN is broadcasting a great wrestling bout from Sinnoh: The Torrential Masked Master, Crasher Wake, is fighting some slob from Veilstone. Shit, what was his name? Mew, I forgot already, but I know for sure that Wake's gonna beat that snot outt'em. I don't want to be watching your pussy playground battles when the two-hour pre-fight show is on."

I tried my best to ignore him as I dropped the remote in his lap and headed out the door. I emerged from the humid, cramped confines of my kitschy, shag carpet-lined mobile home into the "lovely" rolling green acres of Lake Verity Trailer Park. The sun caused me to squint as I started to walk down the stairs to the ground below, but I hesitated as I thought of my situation. I was ten years old, living off of welfare cheques that my father mostly spent on alcohol, with a cot for a bed in a trailer park. My father was a drunken bastard who treated me like garbage and made it a routine to go buy him cigarettes. Frankly, I was a kid in poverty that was at the ideal age for my pokémon journey; why was I putting up with this shit? In that moment, with the sun beating down on me as I stood frozen on the second step of the exit, I made up my mind: I was going on my very own journey, regardless of whether my dad approved of it or not. Carefully and quietly, I slid back into the trailer and into my room, but my dad heard me sifting through my belongings as I put key items into a backpack, including a couple changes of clothes and all the money I had.

"What the hell are you doing back in here?" he roared over the din of the television from his position on the couch. "You're s'post to be gettin' me some smokes!"

"I-I know," I stammered, trying to think of a good excuse as to what I was doing back inside, "I'm just, uh, grabbing my hat." I placed the nearest hat on my head and scrambled back outside before he could grill me any further.

I'd like to say that my subsequent journey proved to be a giant success, that I proved to my father that I wasn't a total fuck-up, and that I didn't end up living a shitty life like his.

But then I'd be lying.

Author's Note: I originally intended this to be a song-fic and a long one-shot, but it eventually got too long and then I added the secondary plotline and realized it needed to be broken up into chapters.