three: begin

He woke up to a drop of something wet falling on his face.

The strangely cold sensation was enough to shock him to alertness, the usual fog of morning drowsiness gone in a moment as he jolted up. He supposed it wasn't the worst way to wake up, but the gooey feeling left behind was unpleasant and he prodded it with his finger.

A smear of paint appeared on the surface of his skin as he took his finger away, and he frowned at it before looking up.

He'd been more tired than he thought, because he'd dropped as soon as the door was closed the night before and passed out on the floor in exhaustion. He hadn't bothered to check for wherever his supposed housemate was.

There was a desk a metre away that he hadn't seen before. The dim morning light allowed him to see the rough contour of it and the wood grains where the light had fell the most, and after a few seconds of his eyes adjusting, he was able to make out a figure sitting before it.

The boy rocked his chair back and forth, humming a tune to himself as he dabbed a paintbrush against a sheet of paper. He wasn't able to make out his face—the teenager's back was turned to him—but he could tell that he was lost in his own world.

His brain finally caught up with his mouth, and he cleared his throat to speak.

"Excuse me, but are you Paint...?"

That got the boy's attention, and he set down his brush, turning around to face him with large, bright eyes.

"Yes, that's me," he hummed, seeming to realise that the room was far too dark and shifting the curtain a little more to the side. "You're the one that's going to live with me, right?"

He attempted to glance at Paint, trying to figure out what kind of person he was before they properly interacted, but he couldn't find anything but curiosity reflected in those round, magenta eyes of his. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was too tired to try and look for you, and ended up falling asleep..."

"That's fine. Cup came around this morning and explained everything to me." Paint shot him a smile, but he was focusing more on the strange accent of his—he kept putting emphasis on the wrong words and it didn't make sense. "Please make yourself at home. There's water in the kitchen."

"I'll get some later." There was an awkward silence between them; they didn't know each other, after all. "Uh..."

Paint bobbed his head, already not paying attention to him. "Your colour is... hm, I wonder."

What is he even talking about? He raised his head, frowning as he tried to form a sentence. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. But it would sort of be like acrylic paint on canvas, if you want me to explain..." He tucked a strand of his pale blond hair behind his ear, shooting him a wide smile. "Well, I'll be drawing for a while. There's food in the cupboards and in the fridge, so help yourself to breakfast—Cup said he'd be coming around later to show you around town, by the way."

He then turned to the large sheet of paper, smears of colourful paint forming stains on his face, and out of curiosity, he stood up, trying to peer over Paint's shoulder to get a glimpse of what his housemate was drawing.

It didn't make sense—after all, the yellows and reds of the paints shouldn't have given rise to a mixture of blacks and greys.

—

"Sorry I'm late." Cup let out a yawn as he nudged open the door. "I fell back asleep after I reached home—hopefully you're still up for going on a small tour. Paint, you coming?"

The blonde boy looked up from where he was sitting. "Mm...do I have to? I'd prefer to stay home."

"Alright, then." The man ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Lux with tired eyes—if he had it in him, he would feel bad for making him show him around, but he was too tired to even care about how others felt at that moment. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, I guess." He stood up from where he was seated—it wasn't like he wanted to be shown around, but there was nothing much to do in Paint's house and if Cup wasn't completely useless, perhaps he could fish some information out of him. "Thanks."

"No problem. I do this all the time." The man stepped out of the house, bidding goodbye to the other boy and waiting for him to slip on his shoes. "Is there anything you want to see first?"

He blinked, deciding to try his luck. "Harbour mentioned something about there being a cave somewhere outside the town. I'm a little interested in—"

The man cut him off before he could speak further. "That's not happening. As she said, it's inaccessible."

And how would they know? Have they tried every possible way of getting in? It was a pity the cave was the most interesting thing about the town, but he couldn't voice that. "Ah, I see..." He forced a laugh, pretending that he'd forgotten about it. "Sorry, it slipped my mind. Is there a library here, then?"

Cup pondered the question for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. It's not exactly grand, but there's one. Are you the bookworm type?"

"Sort of," he shrugged, rolling his shoulders back in a fluid motion. If he knew his luck, the library would be as useless as whatever they were telling him now—all these bits of surface-level information that didn't feed his hunger well enough—but having the space all to himself would be much more useful.

"Well, we can go there." The older man looked down at him as he spoke. "We could visit there first, or we could leave it until the end so you have more time in there."

Lux sucked in a breath—how long could a tour last? He just had to suck it up for an hour or so, right?

"The second one sounds better," he decided, barely looking up as Paint waved goodbye to him in a matter that was far too familiar for someone he'd just met. "Thanks for showing me around."

To tell the truth, he didn't care much about the tour at all. He was just forcing courtesy through his teeth.

"If you don't have anywhere else you're particularly interested in," Cup offered, deciding to test the waters, "I can just show you around the houses and the places that people visit the most. I'm sure Paint will be happy to answer any questions afterwards."

He nodded, stepping outside and closing the door behind him.

Hopefully their so-called tour wouldn't be as useless as he thought it was going to be.

—

"Alright, that's the other block of houses." Cup gestured at the row of homes in the distance. "I don't think that needs much explaining. Quite a few of them are empty, but me and Harbour live around here, at least."

That sparked a question in his mind. "How many people stay here?"

"Uh...I don't call the shots around here, but there aren't a terrible amount of people." The man tilted his head to ponder the question. "Maybe a couple hundred? Nah, it should be around a hundred—it's hardly the case that we get more than two people a month."

Lux tried to do the math in his head. That would mean the phenomenon of the train had been existing for a few years now—he was sure he had known the exact number before, but now that he had woken up without any knowledge of who he was before, he couldn't remember it.

Oh well. He was sure that he could work something out when he was back in the house he shared with Paint.

"If you're done looking at that, the marketplace is over here." Cup raised an eyebrow as he snapped out of his daze. "The first few people who came here set up a system of sorts. We're supplied with resources every few months via the train, so this is where you want to go if you need anything. There's no money involved, but they do note down how much you've taken so that there's enough to go around."

He noted it down silently. The marketplace did seem interesting—he wondered just how the resources arrived.

"I've shown you the park and the hall already, right? There's also a few other recreational places that you can explore around the marketplace, but I'll leave it up to you." The older man smiled, which looked strange on his rough features. "I'll bring you to the library now, then—"

Lux cut him off. "What's that?"

"What's what?" Cup followed the path of his finger, his gaze landing on the bridge where the train would arrive each month. "Oh, the building? One of the people decided to open up a cafe there, since she didn't know what to do with her time. You could go there if you don't know what to eat."

"Ah." The answer was plainer than he thought—he had assumed that it would have been something interesting just because it was near the bridge. "The library, then...?"

"Sure." Cup shrugged, stepping in front of him to lead the way. "It's about ten minutes away, so just follow me."

Not having much choice to do otherwise, he complied.

—

Cup had been right; the library was small.

It seemed insignificant at first glance—it was nearly deserted, save for another boy that seemed perfectly content to mind his own business.

The librarian smiled at him when he introduced himself, and had directed him over to the history section, so at least he knew where to start. Most of the books were old, however; they talked about what happened in Kanto or Johto or even Kalos, but he didn't find anything that suited his interests.

He ended up with a small stack of books about Sinnoh, poring through their contents and picking out the most interesting ones to take back, and was about to check the other sections when something caught his eye.

It was a book on the lower shelves that he hadn't noticed before—he'd probably missed it because it had been caught between two thicker books, and it seemed more like a notebook or journal than an actual book.

His gaze flitted over the title. The words were hastily scribbled in pen, but it was neat enough for him to make out the words.

secrets of sinnoh

The way the words were all in lowercase didn't sit right with him—it didn't seem professional enough; trustable enough, but it seemed more promising than what he had read for the past few hours.

He picked it up, setting the pile of books aside, and was about to start reading when he happened to take a glance at the one window the library had.

When did it get this dark? He bit his lip as he looked at the clock—sure enough, it was evening, and Cup had told him not to walk back alone if it was too late. As much as he didn't care for others' words, he had to admit that he still wasn't very familiar with the town.

Hurriedly, he checked out the books he'd been holding, nodding his thanks as the librarian took one look at the stack and offered him a bag. He'd need to eat something, and he wasn't sure if the marketplace had anything left.

Maybe they'd closed up by now.

Did Paint have anything? He wouldn't know, and it wouldn't hurt to check, but the library wasn't the closest place to their house and he was starting to get hungry.

It was then—as he stood at the library's exit—that he noticed the cafe by the bridge.

The shop's lights were still on despite the dimming sky, and he sighed in relief. He'd just settle with something from there.

Letting out a breath, he gathered up the bag in his hands and started towards it.

--

ahha sorry i died for like 234892 years- long story short i lost motivation to work on fics www

yeah i'll talk more about this in my random book. i finished this up because i'd started on this chapter like two months ago and i was bored lmao

stan paint 

thanks for everyone who voted and commented, though!! i really appreciate it :^)