in despite of the weather

(we could learn to make it together)

"Nate, Rosa! A pleasure to see you two, especially together, my precious dah-lings!" Mr. Stu Deeoh is as flamboyant as ever, and Nate wonders if he'd ever get used to the older man's frankly terrifying falsetto. Rosa's takes the director's words in stride, and even takes the boy's hand, batting her eyelashes in a way girl only knew how.

"The pleasure is mutual, Mr. Deeoh, and of course Nate and I would come together, I mean, it's hard to get us apart!" She laughs, and titters, despite knowing exactly how uncomfortable her touch gets him. Her skin is smooth, and her slender fingers twine just right with his calloused grip. He trembles, and takes a moment to compose himself, flashing the trademarked, dorky grin he's known for.

"Definitely, Mr. D." The man nods in approval, and Nate continues, while carefully prying the girl's hand off of his. It doesn't work, because she just squeezes tighter, and gives the brown haired boy another closed lip smile. "We came by to check on how everything was going here. Any new scripts? Samurott's been aching to play a part." As if on cue, his partner pokemon comes out of its pokeball, head shaking and mouth stretched into something that could be called a grin. Mr. Deeoh pats the pokemon's head, and snaps for an AD. A red-haired girl pops her head in, carrying in treats for both the teens and the pokemon, and sets them down on a nearby table. She takes Nate's Samurott outside, and finally, Mr. D asks Nate and Rosa to sit down.

The couch is comfortable, Nate reasons, as he sinks into the sofa's backrest. The sky blue fabric is silky, the plumes inside are soft. Rosa sits next to him, long legs find their place on top of his lap, her back is to the love-seat's armrest. She plays her role far too well, and Nate gulps when she shoots him an almost malicious smirk. In seconds, her face returns to the painted picture of a girl in love.

He ignores her, and turns to the old gentleman. "So, is there a script?" He tried to make his tone businesslike, and professional, but Nate was raised by a hyperactive mother who loved all things zen, andlofty, so when the words came out of his chapped mouth, they sounded like a six year old boy playing dress up with his father's suits. (Not that he knew much about that, his father left when he was two. Nate's mother sent all of her husband's forgotten belongings to the nearest pokemon center, with a handwritten note that read: We miss you, dear. Your things do too. Come back soon. He vaguely remembers hearing her wracking sobs, and realizing what his father had done to them. He intensely remembers growing up with a gaping hole in his heart.)

Rosa takes the lead, her hand disappears, and relocates to her chin, fingers curled into a fist. The brunette makes a big show of being deep in thought, and Nate thinks it is absolutely ridiculous—she has the attention span of a goldeen on acid.

"I hope there's a script," she lilts. Mr. Deeoh finishes serving drinks, crystalline mineral water for the kiddos, wine for himself. He looks nervous for once, as if prepared to deliver unsavory news. Nate knows the look well. He's worn it several times.

The man twiddles his thumbs, his black suit seems overbearing, suddenly wrinkled from excess movement. Stu flashes an apologetic glance, and lets out a sigh. His AD is long gone, and the room is empty sans them, so he leans forward, and motions for the teens to come close.

Rosa is eager, Nate is apprehensive.

"There's a script—" That's enough for the girl, her lips twist into the widest of smirks. She is thinking about golden awards and glittering interviews, she is thinking about vacations in Undella Town, she is practically salivating over yacht parties in the Castelian sea.

"—but I can't give it to you." Stu Deeoh's gaze is pained, and Nate doesn't know whether to laugh, or cry over Rosa's immediate reaction. She deflates, and turns a shade paler than her yellow hairbands. Her legs fall to the floor, hi-top sneakers skid against the wood paneled floor.

"Why not?" Her voice comes out more forceful than intended. Rosa coughs, and clears her throat, and tries again, asking in the sweetest, the most strained soprano:

"Why the hell not?"

Mr. Stu Deeoh drops his martyr act to laugh, his chuckles come straight from his gut and shake his entire body. Rosa is indignant, she is furious. Nate wants to laugh, too, but further provoking the angry kitten that is Rosa Argentifero would mean hell. She pouts, blue eyes stormy, and slumps back in her seat, no longer acting like a privileged wannabe Elesa, but like the fifteen year old girl she was.

"Calm down, dear," Mr. D coos, while taking out pieces of paper from the briefcase at his side. He offers the leaflets to Nate. The boy takes them, and doesn't give one to the moody girl next to him, so he reads greedily.

"Heroes…truth and ideal…hey, what gives? This looks like the stupid Riolu-kid thing I did earlier this year." He groans, disappointed by the information presented in size twelve, font Times New Roman.

Rosa is back to her chipper self, and retorts to Nate's complaint. "The Riolu saga was fun, and I liked it, you obviously have no sense of style."

Nate ignores her, and waits for Mr. D to explain the situation. The man lets out another sigh, and hands the boy a script binder. The paper nestled inside the plastic covering housed the same title, Brycen-mask, but was thicker than the six minute movie that made him famous. The brunet flipped the device open, and almost dropped the book when he read the first page. Rosa moved the boy's hands off the page, and gave it a look.

"The Heroes of Unova." There was a morsel of respect, a smidgen of reverence in her usual voice. Nate found it nicer than her usual haughty tone.

"It sounds like the stereotypical movie. Justice, good versus evil. Yeah, there's romance, but Nate and I are professionals. Why can't we have this?" Rosa rolls her eyes, the honor she had for it long gone, and Mr. D carefully takes the binder back, and presses it against his chest.

"This was written for someone else."

Nate swallows down the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. Mr. D was never serious, he couldn'tlook serious with his bright blonde hair, and carefree laughter. The man waits for Rosa's undivided attention before continuing.

"How much do you know about the Heroes?"

"Is that with a capital h?" Rosa mutters with a glower. "They're the equivalent of Sinnoh's Arceus here in Unova. Story goes there was a set of brothers, or something, who fought and ravaged the land with war. Supposedly, they reincarnated two years ago, and came back to finish what they started. The heroes of Truths and Ideals, they were called, before being shortened to just "the Heroes" by lazy Unovans. Their names, according to Cheren's crazed babbling, were Tou—"

"—Can I make a phone call?"

"Sure, go ahead Nate. Thank you for that wonderful explanation, Rosa."

The boy scurried out of the meeting room, and into Pokestar Studio's spacious lobby. The place flickered and glowed, lighted tiles bathed the dark room in a light blue haze. People and pokemon bustled to and fro, Nate caught a glance of his costar, Sabrina, before she was pushed into a dressing room. The boy fidgeted with his Xtransceiver, and hurried to a lonely corner before dialing a familiar number.

"Listen up, numbnuts, if you're here to bother me, oh! Hey, Nate."

"Hugh, I can't see your face. Your stupid hair is in the way."

Nate's screen gave privy to the older teen's face, covered in rouge blush and messy mascara. His mouth was painted purple, the color trailed from his lips to the tip of his noise. The brunet tried not to laugh, but after analyzing his boyfriend for more than a minute, he couldn't help it, and broke out into loud laughs.

"Oh no, now you know my horrible secret. We have to break up, I can't let you live with such a horrible image in your head." Hugh rolled his eyes, and rubbed at his makeup covered face, only managing to spread the mess further out. "My little sister thought'd be funny playing makeovers while I was taking a nap on the couch. The 'rents were overly supportive of this idea, and hauled me upstairs to the tea table, and everything." Hugh stuck out his tongue before chuckling again. Nate smiles, and fights the urge to fly back to Aspertia and get Hugh to tell the story in person. He misses him. He tries to remember the last time he saw the blue haired boy outside of quick chats, and video calls.

He can't.

"You're so lame, haha."

"Says the guy who looks distraught. You all right?" Hugh goes from cocky to concerned in zero point two seconds. He squints at Nate, trying to get a look at the brunet's surroundings. "Pokestar, huh? Did the old man call you up, or something?"

Nate nods, and Hugh grimaces. "Bad script?"

"No, it's a weird script, at best. What do you know about the Heroes of Unova?"

The color drains from Hugh's face. "Why so interested in folklore? It's not a big deal, really. Dumb brothers fought and bickered over land, ravaged Unova, blah blah blah."

"You and Rosa have almost the same explanation."

"Rosa is a wanton mistress of the night, Nate."

"No, she is not. She is my best friend."

"Same thing, Nate. Anyway, two years ago these losers ended up repeating history, and were known for Team Plasma's downfall. After the leader of the group, N, disappeared, they did too."

Nate ponders Hugh's rambling, and furrows his brow. "Disappeared? As in 'I took a summer break from saving the world, see you guys in the fall' disappear or a 'I died and no one came looking for me' disappear?"

Hugh laughs. "There's a difference?"

"Yes."

A hushed exchange of "I love you," and "I'll see you soon," takes Nate back to the room where Rosa and Mr. Deeoh wait. He gives them a sorry glance, and takes a seat next to Rosa. The girl scowls, and crosses her arms over her chest.

"So, the script. Besides it not being written for us, why is it so taboo, and stuff?" There she goes again, the omnipetulant look on her face. Nate snickers at his own joke, and Mr. D shuffles through files while he explains.

"Their names were, to the public, Touya and Touko. Their real identities were kept secret considering they were minors, and every single news reporter in the nation wanted to know their story. At sixteen, they fought together and saved Unova from utter destruction." He pauses to see if he has their attention. Rosa urges him to continue, while checking the Xtransceiver strapped onto her wrist, checking the time every other second.

"After they successfully defeated Team Plasma's king, N, they took residence in Touya's hometown, Nuvema—"

"Why can't we know their real names?" Nate asks, suddenly annoyed by how little backstory they were getting. Mr. D laughs, and corrects himself.

"Close friends and family knew Touya as Hilbert. The boy hated the name, and decided Black suit him better, so there's your multiple choice history for that. Touya took Touko, or Hilda or White, pick your poison, to Nuvema Town to live a life of peace after a frenzied sixteenth year. Sadly, that wasn't the case. The couple fought and argued over who would bring N to justice, and eventually, the girl left to Sinnoh on the hunt. Devastated, he followed, and they were never heard of again. Their friends went frantic, and dropped their individual studies—Cheren was on the cusp of receiving his first gym leader assignment, and Bianca was on the verge of becoming an official professor assistant. They looked for them, travelled to the corners of the nation, before coming to the conclusion that their friends were gone.

The nation went into ruin, for a good four seconds. Search parties scoured the cities, and the couple was never found."

Mr. Stu Deeoh taps the cover of the binder that held the prized script together, rustling Rosa and Nate from the daydream of forgotten legends and beautiful supernovas. Nate blinks, and Rosa stares, mouth unable to formulate a sarcastic quip.

"And that's why I can't give you this script. It's not mine, it's theirs. Brycen wrote it during a fit of insomnia, and refuses to let anyone touch it. He thinks it's sacrilegious, considering he witnessed everything."

Enlightenment dawns.

"Oh my god." Rosa stands up from her slump, grabs Nate's forearm and yanks him up with her. "We have to do this, Mr. D! Don't you understand?" Nate doesn't remember the last time he's seen her so animated, so genuine, that he nods along with everything she says. "We have to let them know! The nation's on the eve of forgetting everything, and to be honest, I'm sure Nate's to blame considering his shenanigans with Neo-Team Plasma, and Kyurem, and stuff, but we need to make them remember about the real heroes!"

"Yeah, Mr. D, we gotta—wait, what the hell, Rosa? My exploits in saving the world are important, not distracting, shut up!"

Rosa ignores him like he ignores her, and bulldozes over his protests. "Talk to Brycen, for god's sake. He's being stingy. Unova needs this."

Flustered, and anxious, Mr. Stu Deeoh is shooed out of the room by Rosa's loud requests. The girl and director disappear behind the ebony door that separate the meeting room from the hallway, and Nate sits back down on the love seat.

He is resigned. Rosa will get her way, she always does.

The boy wonders about the heroes. What were they doing now? Were they truly lost, or worse, dead, never to be heard of again, destined to a life of ghostlike existence? Nate ran a hand through his bushy hair, throws off his visor and stuffs it into his bag. He peers over Mr. D's desks, and squints his eyes. He kneels down, and scuffles with the black case, taking another folder out. It has the same title as the script, and a picture falls out. He takes the photo, and scans the image.

He drops it in shock, and picks it back up immediately. The boy in the picture, lanky with a solid build, has an arm around a girl with eyes like the wicked ocean. The more he stares, the more similarities he finds between the stranger, and himself. They have the same grin, shit-eating and careless, if Nate cut his hair, they'd have the same style. The shade is spot on, chestnut brown with a tinge of black on the edges. Their eyes were also brown, boring and bland brown. He looked weary, almost, but content. The boy made a guess that the girl he was attached to was the reason for his outlook. She looked like the human personification of a supernova, she glowed past the image, radiated with energy that Rosa would grow green over. The ponytail wearing girl was the glass to Rosa's porcelain.

Touko, White, Hilda. The girl who ran away.

Touya, Black, Hilbert. The boy who waited.

Nate is his spitting image.

The boy pockets the photo, and runs out of the room, leaving only the memory of the encounter behind.

Years later, but not many, he walks down to the ferris wheel in Nimbasa City. Hugh was supposed to meet him there, but due to family issues, ended up canceling and asking for a rain check. Annoyed, and sad, Nate stumbles upon the entrance to the mystic contraption, moving in a circular motion that both mesmerized and made one forget. He stares and stares for what seems like eternities, before a girl taps his shoulder. He shudders, turns toward the figure, and focuses his gaze in the dark, the amusement park lights flicker in the background. The girl laughs, crooked teeth burn white against her red lips. Next to her, a boy towers over her, with a five o'clock shadow, and a sunken gaze. Their clothes are ravaged: she wears torn jeans and a tight white tank top, with a black vest; he wears black jeans and a bleak black shirt, a blue jacket keeps winter's chill from being too menacing.

"Hey there, wanna ride?" she breathes, and Nate realizes at this moment—

(he is in the presence of gods.)

notes: why do i keep writing fics for fandoms that have been abandoned. nate and rosa are the protags of bw2, mr. d is the director of pokestar/pokewood, and we all know who hugh is. i would say more, but i don't think i have anything else to say. wrote it all in one go, so if you catch anything grammatical, or issues with tenses, give me a call.

okay bye, comment if you want. i really appreciate feedback, but that's your choice, and all.

have a good day, i have to write an academic resume.

- angie