Megs Writes Stuff [Read Only][Image Heavy]

[spoiler]
Grayson received the last Fire Stone for his sixteenth birthday. Had been receiving them periodically before then.

He'd just blown out candles on a birthday cake, despite insisting that he was too old. He had just eaten an uncomfortable amount of it, because his mother thought he was too thin. Vanilla with strawberry filling and too much buttercream frosting. Just the way he liked it.

It was very suspicious.

The guests quieted as his mother took his plate and pushed one last gift box into his hand. There was a buzz of hushed excitement around the room. He felt it too, but it quickly dissipated. It was not what he had expected, when he opened the small box, decorated with opalescent foil and curling bows. It was safe to say he was disappointed, with his brow furrowed, mouth set in a thin line.

"What's this?" he asked, the tone of his voice dropping the volume of the room to silence. He picked up the stone, tentatively, turning it over to inspect the glimmer in the center of the rock. It shone like it housed a tiny flame. It was warm to the touch.

"It's a Fire Stone," his mother explained, her smile was too wide, too sweet as if to suggest he was being rude. Grayson's sisters fidgeted in their chairs where they were seated across from him.

"I know that." He shifted the rock one way and then the other before setting it back on the table, finally looking away from it, and across the table to his father, expecting more of an explanation. "But for what?"

Grayson didn't need to follow the eyes in the room to know that they were all falling to Growlithe, sitting at his feet. Oblivious and obedient. Panting with his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. His runty Growlithe with the strange, shining yellow coat. Stranger still that he was still a Growlithe.

"Grayson." His mother only said his name once, but it was the inflection of it that made him push away from the table. He left his guests and the Fire Stone in the kitchen, Growlithe at his heels. His mother said his name again. The front door slammed when he closed it.

Ariana looked to her husband helplessly, throwing her hands up in the air as if to suggest he should do something about his son. Michael, all too accustomed to his wife's pushy nature and his son's tantrums, didn't notice as he continued to fork cake into his mouth. "Michael," she hissed, brows flying upwards towards her widow's peak. The fork paused and he rolled his eyes up to his wife, not exactly sure what he was supposed to do.

"I'll go get him." Lace volunteered and hopped up from the table, other guests rustling around her. Angie and Mary had buried themselves in their PokeGear to avoid the tension. Her Emolga pattered behind her as she followed Grayson's retreat.

Lace found him throwing sticks for Growlithe in front of Route 19. "That was quite the exit," she commented lightly. Emolga scurried up her back to perch herself on the top of her head.

"She just won't leave it alone," he replied, tugging a stick away from Growlithe and launching it into the distance again. Emolga leaped from Lace's head, chasing after the stick as well. Empty hands pushed angrily through his curly mop of hair. "I don't know why she insists on pushing the issue. Growlithe is fine the way he is." The canine raced back, and dropped the stick as his feet. They repeated the process two or three time in silence.

"I think I'm going to leave," he said, cutting through the peace, testing the weight of a new stick in his hand.

Lace looked dubious. "Little late to be a trainer," she commented, and Grayson scoffed. "Like I could ever be a trainer. I'll find something else."

"Something else?"

"Yeah, like photography or something."

"Okay."

Lace sounded a bit sad, and Grayson wished he couldn't hear it in her voice. They both knew she couldn’t come with him if he left. Already training to be a police officer, her place was here until she was finished. He was supposed to be doing the same, but Grayson was used to being the family disappointment.

"I'll come back to visit."

"Okay."

"You can call me, whenever."

"Okay."

"Lace…"

"It's fine." He turned to look at her and it was very clearly not fine. Emolga clung to her leg, Growlithe had flopped down at his feet. Grayson swallowed. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to fix this. Didn't know if it was fixable. He took one step forward and stopped, unsure of himself. Lace closed the distance between them, and where head bumped into his chest he circled his arm around her.

"It's fine." [/spoiler]