A little something that I daydream far too much about. It goes further, but I'd like to see a few others opinions on my writing skills, plot-wise and etc. If wouldn't mind it continued please say so J

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My family as a whole were never easy.

My real mother from what I could ever gather was a drifter and I was just one of places that faded in the background for her. Dad lied to me back then, told me she'd left and she'd come back one day far from now, smile and try all he could to distract me with something else. But back then I knew that one day would never come, I could tell even so young it was never possible, from the ways his eyes dulled when he said those words told me all I needed, and even to this day he's never told me what really happened. But it remains unspoken that I know, I know mother had gone and that she wasn't coming back.

Then Delia came. I never had liked her.

But Dad had hoped my fear would fade in time, that Delia would replace this woman before me as a mother.

And I had never wanted that. As I young kid I drew, I didn't play with other kids, I didn't even go outside to draw the pretty flowers and the sunset on summery days because there was only one thing I wanted to draw. One thing that wanted perfect on a piece of paper and hold in my arms. A drawing of my mother. And as each day passed on it became harder not better, with each day her memory faded, it was like the memory of her face was like a giant jigsaw and as time went on piece by piece were taken away.

And then Delia came and she began to wipe away the whole portrait.

And I hated her for it. I hated when the family hovered round us when she came in, when they all gave me horrible glances and paraded around Delia like some angel, yes I had guessed my Mother had never left a good mark when she was here and I guessed they saw her in me but…

I felt so angry back then I never looked before I leaped.

And perhaps now that I think back to my abhorrence to her had I realise it had never done me anything good in my family's eyes. It all makes sense now that the years passed and you can look at things when there not suffocating you so now I can look back at one of my biggest regrets I had made since it all fell to pieces.

Ash.

My little brother.

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Contrary to belief the past does come back to haunt, that dispute how many layers your bury it under someone is always able to bring it right back up again. Whether they choose to its their choice, rarely yours.

That's how I would describe this moment right now.

My brother had grown a lot, he was different from the small boy I ridiculed as a teenager but there was still that innocence around him he had as a small boy, I guessed he'd do a Ketchum growth spurt and shot up one day and tower over the rest of us. But he had still grown, his face was less babyish, I saw Dad in him. I saw Dad's face in his, saw dad's eyes widen, I saw Dad's mouth hid his gritted teeth.

"Sidney." But it wasn't Dad's voice I heard from his lips.

There was no denying it. I knew it was him and he knew it was me so there was no way we could pretend this meeting ever happened. I swallowed. I tried to settle my mind on talking to him instead of blocking him out as always.

I just nodded.

He said nothing more, which didn't shock me I am sure that this was horrible for both of us, old wounds opened up that we wanted closed. I could see Kelo glanced at me from my feet, he guessed this was my brother in front of me; I suppose I had told him so much of the brother I had but the Pikachu by his side glanced in between us nervously, it didn't know. Ash had probably never told him. Not that I blamed him. So part of me wanted to go because I knew that Ash had no desire to let me in after all those years. But another part of me at least wanted him to know that I wasn't the same bastard I was eight years ago, that now I didn't want to scream at him, swear, ridicule and mock him until I was happy he wasn't.

Yeah I was a real angel as a kid, I wouldn't have been surprised if he spat in my face and ran.

"Ash?"

But I don't know why I opened my fucking mouth. Why I just didn't keep on walking instead of opening him up to stuff I knew he didn't want to see. Back then my intention was to harm and it was never justified, I had been old enough to know my actions then and I still continued…

"I should go."

Yes. You should. Part of me still yearned to let him know that I'd grown, that I learned from hurting him before. But I couldn't stop myself from digging myself in a deeper grave by speaking, I opened my mouth, I knew the words I would say but I tried and tried but it seemed after each attempt to block them they came flying from mind to mouth tenfold, and stronger than ever.

"Ash-- I. Look I know you hate me but listen to me--!"

His eyes looked trapped and I knew this where it was caving . Badly.

"Am traveling with other people I don't wanna keep them waiting--"

"look am not the same--"

"I'll tell mum I met up with you--"

"Just listen to me Ash. Please? I just want to tell you--"

"I REALLY HAVE TO GO!"

I flinched, I watched him. Watched him as his trembling fingertips came to his mouth and he hesitantly matched my gaze. He was sorry, very sorry, outburst like that didn't come often. But it made me wonder what kind of person he'd become, what was his likes and his dislikes, if he'd had any girl friend and what were they like, what are his friends like and how he acts. I had wanted to ask because before I never could, mum and dad had faded so far from each other communication had crumbled in the process. But I remembered the place they lived before. Pallet. The place of open country and the tranquil settings which I loved drawing as I child, the piles of childish pictures of the fields, and building less sunsets in storage boxes in dad's house reminded me.

But I guess that it would be best if I didn't venture.

My distance with my brother had been a bittersweet fact in my brain before, one which I truly never acknowledged changing, if I ever had wanted it to. But we had own worlds to worry for, he had his own world while I remained with mine, the main problem had disappeared, we were free to live both our lives without interruption or drama, its what we both wanted right?

So in the end I forced a smile.

"Yeah, you should go."

And I turned before the last memory of my brother would be him walking out of my life away again.

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Rate or slate (with reason why)