Chapter Four: Conceptual Feelings

The concept of loneliness was an abstract idea.

She felt as if the air was tight and choking, causing her to suffocate in the thick fog of humidity.

People and trainers walked past, trapped in their own heads just as she was in hers. She could have been on another planet altogether or just plain invisible, but she was neither.

To everyone else, she was just another person in this world, and that was the norm. Yet, she felt an odd tugging at her chest; something clawing its way into her throat and pinching it so tightly that air struggled to enter her throat.

Celeana pressed her eyes together for a good few seconds, trying to accept the fact that she was alone and she couldn't do anything about it.

The battle she had with Ryou was terrible, but she couldn't deny that it had caused her to forget about her loneliness for a short while. After Miss Enya left, she was alone—that single word alone terrified her—and left to depend on herself.

The problem was that she didn't know how.

All her life, she'd never known of being independent.

She'd always been looked after by the meticulous ways of the hospital staff—her food was always prepared for her, her timetable had been planned out beforehand, and she' relied on them for everything.

Adrenaline had prevented her worries from taking over her for the first part of her journey, and Ryou had provided a less-than-welcome distraction.

But now, the euphoria she had was dying down, fading to the back of her mind as nothing but a slight, thrilling pulse. The silver-haired boy was gone and she had to accept the fact that she was completely alone and she couldn't change it.

She knew that she had Froakie, but that wasn't the same as having Miss Enya by her side.

Right... Miss Enya said I could call her if I needed.

She pulled out her phone, dialling the psychiatrist's number and putting the slim device to her ear. There was a few seconds of buzzing and crackling intermission, but soon, a faraway voice—muffled by the tinny texture and bursts of static—rang in her ear, causing a wide grin to form on Celeana's face.

"Celeana?" The voice sounded tired and jet-lagged, but concerned nonetheless. "Is there anything wrong? Is your journey OK?"

She regretted calling the older woman—it was obvious that she was fatigued and deserved her due rest, but she couldn't turn back now.

"Sorry for d—disturbing you," the teenager apologised. "It's just that, well... I feel a little—" She searched her mind for the correct word, cursing at her limited vocabulary. "Lonely...no, v—vulnerable."

There was a lengthy period of silence as the psychiatrist mulled over her words. There was another crackle as she spoke once again.

"Well, all I can do is reassure you that everything's going to be fine." Miss Enya's voice was as calming as she had imagined it to be, and it was good to hear a familiar tone in her life. "It might be hard for you now, but you'll get used to it."

The woman paused for a moment, and Celeana could just imagine the way she looked when she was searching for something to say.

"Anyway, you're bound to make friends along the way," she consoled hastily. "Just don't panic—everything's bound to be OK."

The teenage sucked in a deep breath, running a hand through her already frazzled hair. "OK. Thanks for the advice, Miss Enya."

"It's no problem", the plinky voice replied, and faded into dull silence as she hung up.

Sighing, Celeana took out the lone Pokeball hanging on her belt, letting out her Froakie out. She'd used the Revive on him earlier, and he was now almost back to normal, the scratches once marring his slick blue pelt now having faded to almost nonexistent patches.

"You didn't like it when you lost, huh?" she asked, keeping her voice soft as her amber eyes glanced at the frog-like creature.

Her Pokemon didn't respond— instead, he rolled his eyes to the side, grumpily ignoring her and shutting his black optics so that only the yellow sclera remained.

"I know it was my fault," Celeana mumbled. "But you're not making it easier." She knelt down, hesitating a little before rubbing the sensitive spot between Froakie's large eyes, causing it to suppress a pleased yip, instead settling for a contented, grumbled sound.

"I let you out because I wanted to train a little," the girl added. "I may not enjoy b—battling, but contests do incorporate battling, don't they?" She looked downwards. "Look, I may not be the best trainer, but I want to improve my skills—just like you."

The few moments of silence lay on her skin like poison, her face one of awkwardness.

Finally, Froakie's expression morphed, features rippling, filling the void with a non-committal statement of appreciation.

At that moment, the tension that had kept her wide awake melted into absolutely nothing. The tautness in her body unwound like string unravelling, all the unpleasant thoughts in her brain shutting down.

"Okay, then," she stated, bouncing slightly on her feet as her eyes scanned over the Pokedex. "So... you know Pound, Bubble, Growl and Water—Water Pulse?" Receiving a nod from the small biped, she continued on.

She started with something simple. "Pound," the teenager instructed. Froakie's tiny fist became shrouded in a pulsing, brilliant white, and he struck at the air in front of him with animated vigour.

Celeana offered a few words of a praise before issuing another command. "Now, try to use Pound again, but..." Her words caught in her throat as she fished around for the right sentence. "Try to dent that—" She glanced at the formation of rocks in front of her. As far as she was concerned, they were all rocks— she couldn't remember which word was needed to describe the most brittle-looking stone. "—rock...?"

Her Pokemon shot her a dubious expression, confusion clearly reflected in those sharp eyes, but his arrogant front just demanded that he needed to show off.

The creature raised hist fist once more, pulling it back as far as it would go and lashing out in a wild punch at the biggest boulder in front of him.

As soon as his skin contacted the rough, hard surface, the Froakie let out a screech of raw agony, falling back in an instant and hitting the ground hard. The boulder was still in its former, mossy, untouched state; instead, it was the Water-type who had taken more damage, cradling his arm with rare tenderness as he sat dejectedly on the ground.

The girl bit her lip, spraying a Potion on her Pokemon's injured arm. The long scratches on the Froakie's palm and arm closed up, fading away to nothingness, and all that was left was the creature's frustration—both at himself and at his trainer.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I'm not good with words. Are you OK to try again?"

The Pokemon nodded, but there was now a flicker of resentment towards her in those onyx orbs.

Her grip on the Pokedex tightened. "We're going to practice Bubble now. Try hitting that rock with it," she muttered, remembering that her fingers had a use and pointing at the small rock at the very edge of the formation.

Froakie let out an indignant huff, but did as he was instructed, opening his mouth and letting out a swift jet of translucent bubbles that shot into the stone with frightening accuracy,. Celeana had no idea how mere bubbles could deal such damage; yet, as she saw the stone splitting instantly, she instantly told herself that if must have been either the force of the attack or another unknown reason entirely that instead dealt with the strange powers of Pokemon themselves.

She smiled, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. Froakie looked satisfied with himself, but as he turned back to his trainer, the Water-type Pokemon kept his distance, straying several feet away from the teenager, indicating the grudge he still held.

"See? That wasn't so bad," she consoled, and her Pokemon merely replied with a reluctant huff.

"Let's try it again," she continued. "Since we're practicing coordinating—" The complicated word gave her more than a few problems. "—I think we should try something more difficult. Use Bubble, but... try to spin around at the same time so that it's...well—"

Froakie was reluctant to comply, charging up yet another spray of bubbles and jumping into the air, spinning around so that his form dissolved into what looked like nothing more than thick, blurred strips of colour.

However, it all went completely wrong from that point.

Instead of the bubbles shooting upwards and forming a tornado-like cloak around the small creature's body, the Pokemon had misinterpreted her instructions, shooting out a stream of globules that swept the entire area in a wide arc.

Celeana grimaced as a surge of bubbles slammed into her, the impact and speed of the small, see-through spheres knocking the wind out of her. Sure, maybe a Pokemon could withstand this, but she was only human, and her body could feel the burning smarting of her fragile body.

"Hey, I didn't tell you to hit me," she chided, unintentionally raising her voice with pitch climbing up a couple of octaves. She didn't mean to; she meant to be more mild, but her voice didn't seem to want to listen to her.

Froakie chattered back in anger, stubborn enough defending itself with a wave of excuses that the teenaged girl couldn't even interpret. The trainer had a feeling that it didn't have to do with how loud she'd been—he would have been this way no matter the pitch.

Then, the Pokemon promptly turned his back to her, giving her a final, inert stare before taking his leave, agile on his small limbs and disappearing into the bushes in a matter of surprises.

He'd misread his trainer and felt bitter, angry— though all the while she was simply doing her best.

"Hey, come back!" she called, stepping forward to try and retrieve her Pokemon—but the small frog was gone. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean it!"

Her heart was still beating, but only against a chest that felt hollow, dull thumps being the one reminder that she was still alive. Her eyes still saw, yet the world that was so close around me seemed oh so far away. Her mind began to shut down, unwilling to think anymore.

Perhaps this is shock; I'm really not sure.

She was a horrible trainer—if she was bad enough to make her Pokemon abandon her in no less than four days after they'd met, then she deserved some kind of award to shame herself.

Celeana took a deep breath, exasperation and shock dimming from their original peaks as cold air entered her brain. She felt much calmer now—more clear-headed, at least—enough to realise that she'd made a huge mistake.

She quickened her pace, pushing her way through the bushes and trying to ignore the small pricks that stray clumps of thorns seemed eager to give her.

I have to find Froakie, she urged herself. It's my responsibility as a trainer. Besides, I have to apologise to him.

• • •

She eventually ended up in a clearing—and despite her circumstances, she had to admit that the meadow she'd stepped in by accident was nothing short of beautiful.

The wild flowers were a cacophony of colour on the fading green; purple thistles, blue cornflowers, red poppies and tall asters with their yellow centres all decorated the grassy canvas There was no coordination present in the layout of towns, instead just a free-for-all choreographed by the wind.

Yes, she'd manage to relax a little since her argument with her partner, but her surroundings had taken calm to an entirely new level.

Unaware of her own heart beating or the rise and fall of her chest, she drifted into semi-consciousness, forgetting that she was supposed to be looking for her Pokemon, and all clear-minded thoughts of her location or her setting blurred together at the fresh aroma of wildflowers.

She drew her vest in around her shivering frame, only half-conscious of the change in temperature as the sun drifted downwards in preparation for sunset.

However, the serene moment was interrupted by a small noise, and she looked downward to see an unfamiliar, foreign creature looking through her through a mop of apple green that hid its eyes.

The Pokemon—at least, she assumed it was one—stared at her from underneath its mint-hued hair, small white body seeming to resemble an oversized nightgown; two large red horns protruding out of the bowl-shaped thatch of hair and alight with a rosy aura.

The creature was unknown to her—she'd remembered seeing a picture of it somewhere—but that was all. She studied the Pokemon tugging on one of her leggings, frowning as the name simply refused to come to mind.

She took out her Pokedex, fumbling around for the metallic device, but before she could even switch it on, a shy, ethereal voice sounded in her mind, an echoing quality causing her head to pound and spin.

It tilted its head, revealing the barest hint of shimmering red eyes.

...What... what were those feelings?

• • •

OKAY SO I'M ON FROAKIE'S SIDE? IDEK ANYMORE

just in case you think Celeana is being too idiotic for a teenager. She's missed 5 years of education, plus she needed time to recuperate so c:

Okay, so this chapter is a //little// more angsty than usual. Eh. But not angsty enough. I'm thirsty for angst >o< --> and the need to write about Ryou again but that's not relevant shush I don't know what you're talking about

Besides that, thank you SO MUCH for 605 reads and 110 votes! That's about a 160 increase in reads :o My next goal is 120! :)

Critiques are most certainly welcome, and don't forget to read, vote and give your thoughts in the comments! Please be 100% honest!

~ nyxia ☆