Tonight

Her back is stiff. Long hours at the gym had caused the muscles in her body to creak and the blood in her body to fizzle instead of the necessary broil Roxanne felt was required to defeat others in battle. The ones that cared for her suggested that she go away for a little while, take a few days off, recharge and reignite the fire she felt was beginning to fade. She had locked up the gym, tucked the key tight into her belt and left without a word. Roxanne was given a ticket to somewhere, she was not entirely sure of where. All she knew was that she was on a train to a place where she needed to find herself again. Her feet were planted determinedly and her hand held on tight to the pole in front of her, her eyes searched the car, looking for a sense of familiarity in the unknown.

Then, she noticed him.

His gaze was, at first, alarming. Time had passed and she had begun to wonder if he was still even in Hoenn. Then a smile slowly trembled upon his face, causing his eyes to wrinkle in an endearing way that caused Roxanne's body to shudder. She had caught him in the act of staring. That one glimmer of happiness, of excitement or of hope, made Roxanne feel as if a fleet of soldiers to be called to battle were set loose in her stomach, their swords clashing against her ribs, trying to fight their way to the cage that engulfed her heart. His eyes flitted away, then back. Roxanne could not look away; she was ensnared.

No hello escaped his lips. No "why haven't you called?". No words, only breathless air. But perhaps that said more than any word could possibly convey. What he felt and what he wanted to, but could not, say was out in the open, dangling in-between the other passengers and the inky air. Roxanne felt like her legs were sliding down from her body, separated from her. She wanted her control back, but it was tucked away in the back pocket of Brawly's jeans.

Suddenly, the bell tinged. They had reached their destination.

But, while the other passengers drifted listlessly away, Roxanne stayed, her hand latched, almost shackled, to the pole in front of her. She thought she might sink onto the floorboards if she let go, that she would seep between the cracks and not have the chance or the opportunity to see him pass by, to smell the familiar salty brine that followed in his wake. Brawly's eyes did not escape hers. But his smile did falter, his expression turned unreadable. It was by no means caustic, nor did it hold any revulsion, but it was not congenial either. His turquoise tennis shoes squeaked until he slowed directly beside Roxanne. His breath fanned across her cheek, his words starting a game he wished she would play. A soft I hope you're well flew from the coop of his lips. Then, after his shoulder gently bumped into hers, he walked away, an almost swagger like jolt in his step.

The day after, in between wine colored sheets and morning light, Roxanne called.