(no subject)
I guess I'll start us off, then? Stand by for Tracey angst.
23. Regret
He wondered if they were still together. He wondered if she was even alive, after all this time. Of course, it had only been a couple of years since he had come to Oak Laboratory, but Tracey knew that in a situation like the one he ran away from, even a day could seem like an eternity.
The pokemon watcher looked up to the sky, letting the rain hit him in the face and not caring as it dribbled down his neck and saturated his clothing. He was already soaked to the bone; the bottom just fell out while he was feeding the Rapidash. They had nearly trampled him trying to get back into the warm, safe barn.
It was a lot like the way he would hide in the attic when his father came home. It was his haven; the place he would run to escape the violent storm.
It was awfully hot up there, especially during the scorching tropical summers, but Tracey would take off his shirt and lay on top (this also helped him to avoid splinters) and throw open his sketchbook to draw. He would lay there sometimes for hours, behind a stack of boxes of his parents' old things labeled with years ranging from '1977' to '1989' with an old desk light he had found in the '1983' box plugged into the wall. That way he could see to draw long after the sun had gone down.
Sometimes he could hear their screaming, and then her crying soon after, but by the time he was 13 Tracey had learned to block all of that out. He couldn't draw all of the time, of course, his poor hand needed a rest. When things got particularly loud, he would lose himself in a book or a magazine. Pokemon Friend, Pokemon Pal, Trainer Tips...all of those were among his top favorites, but his absolute number one read had to be Pokemon Trainers' Journal. It came out weekly rather than monthly, which was a plus, but best of all it regularly had articles by Professor Oak. Tracey had long ago elected this man as the authority on pokemon, along with the rest of Kanto.
He smiled as he approached the lab. Who would have dared to imagine this? He was living with his idol. It was a dream. It was almost like an apology for his miserable childhood.
Thunder clapped and the smile quickly faded.
" Where is he?! The little brat's not outside playing, it's pouring out there!!!"
A vase broke and Tracey flinched upstairs, throwing things into his backpack.
" You think you can let my own son hide from me in my own house?!! What's wrong with you?!!" He would be sixteen years old tomorrow.
" What do you tell him about me while I'm WORKING to support YOUR SORRY-"
His mother was crying. By this point it didn't bother him. It was like water running in the background to him.
" DON'T YOU LIE TO ME!!!!"
Slap. Thud. Heavy footsteps on the stairs. Bam. Bam. BAM.
He didn't care if he even had everything he needed. He could get more. With forty-seven dollars in his pocket and the clothes on his back, Tracey grabbed his half-filled backpack and flew out the second floor window, down lattice, and took off for the port. The end. He was out of there.
Like a coward, he ran and he left her there. He made the risky decision of staying in the islands, even though he made it over to Tangelo instead of staying on Mandarin Island. He knew they would look all over for him there. About a month after his pokemon watching, it happened...Ash and Misty appeared, and a miracle, Tracey's way out of the islands forever. The rest was, as they say history.
For the longest time he told himself that it wasn't his job to get his mother out of there. The only one who could help her was herself, just like he had helped *himself* to a better life. It worked, for a while. His 'all-for-none and one-for-one' reasoning made it okay. After a few months of working with Professor Oak, though, the novelty had worn off and his mind had time to wander again.
He was only fifteen. But he still should have, could have, done something.
" Tracey!" Oak greeted him at the door. " You're drenched. Come in and I'll make you some tea...you'll catch your death out there. I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes, my boy. Let me get you a...Tracey? What's wrong?"
He was choked up now. In a display of extreme selfishness and cowardice, Tracey had been fortunate enough to find in Oak what he had been missing for so long.
Life was so unfair.
23. Regret
He wondered if they were still together. He wondered if she was even alive, after all this time. Of course, it had only been a couple of years since he had come to Oak Laboratory, but Tracey knew that in a situation like the one he ran away from, even a day could seem like an eternity.
The pokemon watcher looked up to the sky, letting the rain hit him in the face and not caring as it dribbled down his neck and saturated his clothing. He was already soaked to the bone; the bottom just fell out while he was feeding the Rapidash. They had nearly trampled him trying to get back into the warm, safe barn.
It was a lot like the way he would hide in the attic when his father came home. It was his haven; the place he would run to escape the violent storm.
It was awfully hot up there, especially during the scorching tropical summers, but Tracey would take off his shirt and lay on top (this also helped him to avoid splinters) and throw open his sketchbook to draw. He would lay there sometimes for hours, behind a stack of boxes of his parents' old things labeled with years ranging from '1977' to '1989' with an old desk light he had found in the '1983' box plugged into the wall. That way he could see to draw long after the sun had gone down.
Sometimes he could hear their screaming, and then her crying soon after, but by the time he was 13 Tracey had learned to block all of that out. He couldn't draw all of the time, of course, his poor hand needed a rest. When things got particularly loud, he would lose himself in a book or a magazine. Pokemon Friend, Pokemon Pal, Trainer Tips...all of those were among his top favorites, but his absolute number one read had to be Pokemon Trainers' Journal. It came out weekly rather than monthly, which was a plus, but best of all it regularly had articles by Professor Oak. Tracey had long ago elected this man as the authority on pokemon, along with the rest of Kanto.
He smiled as he approached the lab. Who would have dared to imagine this? He was living with his idol. It was a dream. It was almost like an apology for his miserable childhood.
Thunder clapped and the smile quickly faded.
" Where is he?! The little brat's not outside playing, it's pouring out there!!!"
A vase broke and Tracey flinched upstairs, throwing things into his backpack.
" You think you can let my own son hide from me in my own house?!! What's wrong with you?!!" He would be sixteen years old tomorrow.
" What do you tell him about me while I'm WORKING to support YOUR SORRY-"
His mother was crying. By this point it didn't bother him. It was like water running in the background to him.
" DON'T YOU LIE TO ME!!!!"
Slap. Thud. Heavy footsteps on the stairs. Bam. Bam. BAM.
He didn't care if he even had everything he needed. He could get more. With forty-seven dollars in his pocket and the clothes on his back, Tracey grabbed his half-filled backpack and flew out the second floor window, down lattice, and took off for the port. The end. He was out of there.
Like a coward, he ran and he left her there. He made the risky decision of staying in the islands, even though he made it over to Tangelo instead of staying on Mandarin Island. He knew they would look all over for him there. About a month after his pokemon watching, it happened...Ash and Misty appeared, and a miracle, Tracey's way out of the islands forever. The rest was, as they say history.
For the longest time he told himself that it wasn't his job to get his mother out of there. The only one who could help her was herself, just like he had helped *himself* to a better life. It worked, for a while. His 'all-for-none and one-for-one' reasoning made it okay. After a few months of working with Professor Oak, though, the novelty had worn off and his mind had time to wander again.
He was only fifteen. But he still should have, could have, done something.
" Tracey!" Oak greeted him at the door. " You're drenched. Come in and I'll make you some tea...you'll catch your death out there. I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes, my boy. Let me get you a...Tracey? What's wrong?"
He was choked up now. In a display of extreme selfishness and cowardice, Tracey had been fortunate enough to find in Oak what he had been missing for so long.
Life was so unfair.