Human Experiences 9

Chapter 9:

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry you guys. I didn't mean to, er, interrupt…" Bianca sputtered awkwardly, blush rising in her cheeks.

Touko, still slightly disheveled and flushed from her embrace with N, felt thoroughly humiliated. "You didn't interrupt anything," she mumbled feebly as she glared at the floor. Her denial felt flimsy even to her ears, especially considering that there was a man in her bed. Bianca looked at her skeptically, glancing at N, who was still unkempt from their embrace. She smiled at Touko knowingly and playfully bounced her eyebrows at her.  

"Sure," she said devilishly. "So, were you kids playing Wii then?"

"Shut up, Bianca," Touko whined miserably. She hated feeling foolish.

"Oh, Touko, you're blushing!"

Touko groaned and let her face fall into her palms. "Sometimes, Bianca, I want to punch you," she grumbled. Bianca giggled and swatted her lightly with the large bag of clothes she had in her hands.

"Here's the clothes my dad said you could use, N," she said cheerfully. N nodded dully, still staring out the window moodily. "Most of them are going to be kinda short on you and they're all pretty dated looking. My dad's not the best dresser."

"Thank you for thinking of me when we've only just met," N said flatly. "I'm sure they'll be fine until I can buy some clothes of my own." He sat up on the bed and adjusted his long hair, still ruffled and messy from Touko's grasp. He scooted to the edge of the bed and gracefully rose to his feet. Bianca walked into the little room and handed N the bag of clothing. He smiled warmly at her and she let out a school girl like giggle.

Touko rolled her eyes at her. "Who's blushing now?" she said triumphantly as Bianca's face colored up a bright shade of pink. Bianca dissolved into a fit of nervous laughter and Touko smirked at her with a look of utter satisfaction. N stared at the two girls, confused by what they both found so entertaining. He looked around the room curiously; perhaps there was something he was missing.

Bianca gasped in air, holding her now aching sides and smiled brightly at Touko. "Well, I have to get back home. I wanna get some sleep before dinner. I feel like I've been awake for a thousand years!" she said with surprising energy. As she turned to leave, her hand on the door knob, she stopped; quietly, face still toward the door, she whispered, "Cheren says he's very sorry for any pain he's caused either of you."

Touko rolled her eyes, still not ready to forgive her friend. "Maybe he should try apologizing to us in person rather than sending messages through you," she said sourly.

Bianca sighed; she really did have the world's most stubborn best friends. "I told him you'd say that." She pushed open the door and walked to the stairs. As she descended them, a broad smile broke out across her face. "Touko!" she called. "Be good! Don't do anything I wouldn't!"

Touko could hear her devious laughter even after she had slammed the door to her room shut. This day just got consistently worse; she felt as though it had been one long parade of terrible and humiliating incidences after another. All she wanted was to curl up in her bed and wake up in Pinwheel Forest with N staring at her like she was more fascinating than a calculus book. As she stood staring at the door, lost in a daydream where she imagined being read cover to cover, N came up behind her and hesitantly cleared his throat.

"I-I want to change now. I think you pulled the sleeve off my shirt of when we were, uh, i-i-i-n bed," he finished awkwardly. She turned around, snapped back into reality, and looked at N's white over shirt. Sure enough, the sleeve that had been barely attached since their battle was now completely detached and lying in the middle of the floor, along with his hat and their shoes.

Great, she thought, her embarrassment heightened. No wonder Bianca thinks she 'interrupted something.' It looks like I ripped his clothes off. Well, I kind of did, I guess…She shook her head, trying to block out images of N lying on top of her, bare chested and grasping her hands as she shuddered from pleasure. She left the room, her face screwed up in concentration as she focused on naming off all the Pokémon in the Unova region in order.    

Snivy, Servine, Serperior, Tepig, Pignite, Emboar, Oshawott, Dewott, Samurott…she thought as she descended the stairs. She sat down on the edge of the couch, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight spilling in through the little window, and tapped her fingers absently. Patrat, Watchog…I wonder what Bianca brought N to change into? I bet its all old man clothes; they probably won't look any good on him.

She closed her eyes and let herself fall back into the overstuffed cushions. She couldn't help but imagine N changing. She felt herself blush, but rather than shy away from her imaginings, she allowed herself to indulge in them. She let her mind float back to their night together in the tent; it seemed so far away now, almost as if it had happened in another lifetime. She remembered the feeling of her lips on N's warm skin, the strange and violent contours of his scars on her fingertips, and the dizzying sensation of being held so close to his body.

The vision of the pink crescent scar burned in her mind like the sun.  She tried not to think about how he might have gotten it, but she already knew who had been the one to give it to him. The bile in her stomach boiled as she thought of Ghetsis holding down N, still no more than a boy, and dislocating his shoulder.  She grabbed her arm, a reflexive response to the thought of pain, and rubbed it tenderly; she wondered how he had endured over two decades of that reality when even the mere idea of it made her cringe.

I wonder what scars he has that I can't see, she thought dismally. She was well aware that some scars were not visible anywhere on his body; some resided deep in him, hidden away from view from everyone like a well-guarded secret. She remembered how he looked when Cheren had grabbed her arm; the brief flash of fury in his normally calm green eyes had been terrifying. She never realized how much he looked like his father until that moment. Their faces were the same in many ways, only was twenty years younger and considerably more fragile looking.

In some ways, N's past traumas were plainly obvious. His odd and distant behavior around people was off-putting to say the least. It was only after several encounters with him that Touko realized that he was actually a very lonely person who longed for normal human companionship. She sighed as she thought back on how their strange friendship had formed; it seemed so unlikely at the time that they would ever become anything more than superficial acquaintances at best.

He barely said more than a handful of words to her in the beginning; he always stood noticeably far from her, as though he wished to be removed from the possibility of touching her at all. She never really minded; why should she have then? He was little more than a stranger to her and she to him. The most she knew of him was that he claimed to be able to speak to her Pokémon. It seemed an incredible lie to her at first, as she suspected it sounded to everyone he told, but she soon realized that he was being completely honest.  

His company, however strange it may have been, was a welcome break from the hours of solitude she often had on her journey and soon she began to welcome his mysterious appearances fondly. As much as she had hated to admit it to herself at the time, she found him attractive in a peculiar sort of way. He had such a sweet, inviting face and a child-like sense of wonder in him that she still envied. She felt a little like a giddy school girl when he would flip his long hair out of eyes and look at her with unparalleled interest, almost as if she were a specimen to be study for long hours under a microscope.  

He began to converse with her easily, sometimes for hours. He asked her all sorts of questions about her life and her new adventure with Pokémon. His questions were often strange, the kind of things that most people would feel embarrassed to admit they didn't know or had never done. She smiled slightly as she remembered watching N feverishly try to figure out how to work a vending machine.  He felt comfortable asking her almost anything and, oddly enough, she felt comfortable answering him honestly; eventually, he even began to divulge some information about himself, though it was shallow and safe.

Everything changed after that day on the Rondez-View Ferris Wheel. After N's bizarre confession, she found herself at odds with her feelings; she enjoyed him immensely and yet he was now to be her enemy. He was the most interesting person she had ever met. He had such a vast amount of knowledge floating around in his mind it was almost dizzying; and, yet, he wasn't cocky or a know-it-all. He was quiet and timid, gentle mannered to a fault. He often chattered faster than she could keep up with, but he never minded slowing down or explaining exactly what he meant to her.  

Perhaps the worst thing about him was his single-mindedness. Everything was in terms of absolutes with him. There could only be one right answer; grey was a non-existent color in his spectrum. Everyone was inherently bad or good in his eyes, just as he said himself during his tale, and there was no changing their true nature. It persisted no matter how much the person sought to change. Hence, why he wanted to liberate everyone's Pokémon, even the seemingly well-loved; he could never be sure that their masters had never betrayed others before them.  

They carried on their strange relationship after Nimbasa City as if nothing had happened. Touko always kept it in the back of her mind, though; she sought to change his mind, to prevent his dream from becoming a reality. That was when she began to realize that N's odd behavior was more than simple quirks. Human touch made him shiver and stutter, as though he were a wild animal that had never been exposed to it before. She could sense in him an almost manic craving for intimacy, for real friendship, and yet he never let his walls come down with her. His naïve view of the world, his inexperience with everyday things, the odd way he regarded humans—they were all bizarre pieces in the puzzle of N.

Even now, as he stood in her room changing after their passionate embrace, she was still clumsily trying to piece him together. His story of abuse and neglect made her tear up just thinking about it. He had had his bones broken by the one person who was supposed to care for him; he had known nothing his brief life but fear and loneliness because of humans. It was no wonder he was so standoffish with her in the beginning; it was amazing he even let her touch him now.  

"What are you thinking about so hard, Touko?" N asked. Touko eyes snapped open, pulled once again back into reality by his voice. She turned her head to find him; all she could see of him were his familiar dirty sneakers on the stairs. He was purposefully standing behind the wall to avoid being seen. "Are you trying to figure out a riddle?"

She laughed; only N would think that. "You could say that," she said jovially. "If you come down, maybe you can help me figure it out."

She could hear him inhale deeply, as though this option was particularly unsavory. "O-o-okay, but you have to promise you won't laugh at me."

"Laugh at you?" she repeated, a little puzzled. "Why would I laugh at you?"

"Just promise," he groaned.

"Okay; I promise I won't laugh at you," she said exasperatedly. Sometimes he really did remind her of a child.  

Hesitantly, he put his foot on the next step and slowly began to descend the stairs. Touko covered her mouth in horror as she saw what he was wearing. Hanging almost two inches short were a pair of navy blue golf pants with little green Snivies stitched all over them;  they were also one or two sizes too tight on him, making it difficult for him to move easily. His normal, non-descript black thermal had been replaced by a light pink polo shirt, complete with a tiny pocket bearing an embroidered Sandile.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, his arms held out to the side to allow her to fully absorb his appearance. "Oh, wow; that's a lot of color," she said desperately trying to not let the laughter that was growing inside of her escape out her lips.

"I look ridiculous," he said flatly, letting his arms drop to his sides in disgust.  

"No, you don't," she said reassuringly. She got up and walked over to him; she put her hand on his shoulder and rubbed it sympathetically. "People wear this kind of outfit when they want to go golfing. You look sporty."

"Really?" he said raising his eyebrows in suspicion. "Why would anyone dress like this voluntarily?"

"It's part of the fun of golf; it's like a tradition or uniform," she lied. Bianca's father was the only person she knew who enjoyed dressing so flamboyantly when he went golfing. Everyone else she knew dressed uptight and formally, as though golf were something special to get fancied up over.

"Golf…" he said thoughtfully, as he tugged at his uncomfortably tight pants. "I don't think I want to try this sport."

"It's really boring," Touko agreed. "You're much better suited for games of strategy."

"I'm proficient in many sports," he said proudly. "I'm more than proficient in others."

"Oh really?" she said playfully. "Like which ones?"

"Well," he said as he casually grabbed her hand and pulled her to the couch, "I've been playing basketball my whole life. I've never played against anyone, but I was frequently complemented by my teacher on my form and technique. I even helped him develop plays for his team."

"Wow," Touko said, honestly impressed. "I had no idea you played basketball."

"I skate too. Mostly half-pipe; there wasn't really anywhere practical to install a street course in the castle. I gave it a try when I was out on my journey, but I much prefer the weightlessness of the half-pipe."

"You skate?" she said in disbelief. He nodded, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. "N, that's so cool! You have to promise to teach me someday, deal?" She stuck her pinkie out at him; he looked at it, thoroughly puzzled. Gently, he grasped her little finger in his hand and gave it a tiny shake. She giggled at him and shook her head.

"You're supposed to shake on a deal, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, but we're making a pinkie promise."

"Pinkie promise?" he repeated. "I've never heard of this kind of promise before."

"Here," she said gently. "I'll show you how to do it." She grabbed his hand and formed it into a loose fist. She pulled out his pinkie and had him hold it up stiffly. "Okay, now all you do is wrap your pinkie around the other person's and you've made a pinkie promise."

He hesitantly wrapped his finger around hers, enjoying the warmth of her hand. She smiled at him and patted his shoulder. "So now what?" he asked excitedly. "What makes a pinkie promise different than other kinds of promises?"

"Nothing, I suppose," she said giggling. "It's just something you do with your friends."

He smiled, very much enjoying the idea of Touko being his friend. It was hard for to understand completely what their relationship was; she frequently referred to him as her "friend", but he knew that friends did not embrace each other the way they did. At least, he didn't think they did. He certainly felt like he was more than a friend to her, especially when she looked at him like she currently was; he felt like he was the most fascinating thing in the world to her, like he was special to her in a way that other people weren't.

He swallowed hard, unsure of how to begin. He timidly took her hands in his; he turned his body so that they were face to face, holding her in his gaze. "Touko, are we friends?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course we are," she said, brushing his long bangs out of his eyes. She let her fingers rest on his cheek a moment, making him feel light-headed as he remembered the feel of her fingers grasping at his shirt. "What a silly question," she added with a smile.

"No, you misunderstand me," he said quietly. "That's n-n-not what I meant. I mean are we…are we…" he fumbled for the words, embarrassed and suddenly aware of his nervous stutter. "A-a-are—"

"Are we 'just friends'?" she said finishing his thought. He exhaled in relief and nodded his head, glad that she understood what he meant. He felt so jumbled that it may have taken him hours to spit out the right phrase.

She smiled coyly at him. "I don't think we've ever been just friends, N," she said sweetly. "I liked you instantly, against all the warnings of my friends and even my own judgment. I find myself thinking of you constantly. I can't focus on anything for more than five minutes without you popping into my brain."

"Oh," he said simply, unable to keep the glee from his voice or the smile from his face. He loved knowing that magical look she held him in was reserved for him and him alone. He wanted to hold her down right there on the couch and feel those warm lips all over his skin. He wanted to feel her frantically pull and tug at his abominable clothing; he didn't even care if she ripped his sleeves off. He wanted to hold her in his arms and gently stroke her hair while she fell asleep. "Good," he said beaming.

She laughed at his awkwardness and leaned toward him, letting her forehead rest against his. She ruffled his hair playfully as he wrapped his arms around her, too full of happiness to even try to articulate how he felt properly. She looked out the window at the now sinking sun and felt her stomach rumble uncomfortably; suddenly, she realized that she hadn't had a proper meal in days.

"Are you as hungry as I am?" she asked. He pulled away from her and nodded emphatically. "You wanna help me make dinner?"

"In the kitchen?" he asked excitedly. "With the microwave?" His eyes flashed with the same fervor they had earlier when he had wanted to dissect her television.

"I was actually going to cook something, but I suppose we can fit the microwave in there somewhere."

"Yes, please, let's use the microwave." Before she knew it, he had pulled her to her feet and was dragging her to the kitchen. He had the microwave cornered and was staring at it was feverish intensity. "What do you cook in microwaves, anyway?" he asked, totally engrossed in unraveling its mysteries.

"Uh, basically anything," Touko answered. "But we're only going to cook potatoes today," she added quickly. She could just imagine N sneaking down into the kitchen while she slept to microwave the contents of her freezer.

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Touko had never ate so many potatoes in her life; baked, mashed, baked and then fried—but she didn't care. She was so hungry it didn't even matter to her what she ate; it also made N indescribably happy and proud to feed her food that he had cooked on his own, "Fresh from the microwave." She had never heard a cuter oxymoron in her life.  

She had left him to do the dishes, a task he jumped to with enthusiasm when he learned that she had a dishwasher, while she took a shower and changed out of her ratty clothes. She took stock of them as she took them off, frowning as she realized that her well-loved tank top would have to be retired; they had been together for nearly three years. It seemed a pity to part with it now.

The water felt deliciously warm against her skin; she had forgotten how wonderful a hot shower felt. She had grown so accustomed to bathing where ever was necessary from traveling Unova that having a warm, indoor bath felt beyond luxurious to her. She let herself slide down the wall and sit in the tub while the water fell down on her like summer rain.  

After some time had passed, she forced herself to go check on N. She feared that her dishwasher may be lying in pieces already. She dried her hair out quickly, enjoying the naturally forming waves, and pulled on her clean clothes. It had been a while since she had worn skinny jeans; she loved the way they hugged her body like a second skin. She slid on her long sleeved white tee, enjoying the warmth it provided her. It felt odd to be so covered up; she was so used to dressing lightly for hiking that having sleeves the reached her wrists felt claustrophobic.

She gave herself a final once over and pushed the bathroom door open. She could hear music blaring from her room and she immediately cringed. She ran to the stairs and took them two at time, rushing to her stereo's rescue. She rushed in the room; to her surprise, she saw N lying on her bed with his eyes closed, placidly tapping his fingers in time to the tempo of the upbeat song. She walked over to the stereo and turned it down slightly; he opened his eyes slowly and flashed her a warm smile.

"I like your music," he said brightly. "It's much better than what I listened to growing up. So aggressive and yet so melodic and sweet…I like it very much."

"It's called rock," she said, sighing in relief as she saw that her room was still in one piece.

"You look very nice," he said bashfully, sitting up on her bed.  He stretched out his long limbs carefully, moving as gracefully as his clothing allowed him, and walked over to her.

She smiled and pulled the tie out of his hair, letting it spill wildly around his face. She gave it a good shake, making it stick out at odd and choppy angles. "There," she said, with a smile. "Now you are thoroughly rock'n'roll."

"If you say so," he said, smiling. "Do people dance to this kind of music?"

"Sure; you can dance to any kind of music you want."

"Can you show me how to dance to this kind of music? I've only ever danced to classical before and something tells me that a waltz just isn't appropriate for this song." She nodded in agreement. "Oh! I forgot to ask you; what's a tattoo?"

"A tattoo?" she repeated, slightly stunned by the odd question.

"The artist sings about waking up with a strange tattoo. Is that bad?"

"Yeah, that's pretty bad," she said giggling. "A tattoo is a permanent picture an artist inks on your skin with a needle."

"Oh, that does sound bad," he said candidly.  "But how would you not know how you got one?"

She shook with laughter at his innocence. "Let's save that discussion for another night. You wanna dance or what, Rock Star?" she said playfully.  He shook out his arms, pretending to limber up, and nodded emphatically. "Well, there's nothing to it really; just kind of move however feels right to you."

She swayed to the beat, moving her hips around smoothly. "Come on," she said, giving him a little push. "Don't be shy; it's just you and me, and I'm a terrible dancer." On the down beat, she clapped her hands, laughing wildly at her own cheesy dance moves. "You've got to be a little silly some times, N."

Hesitantly, he grabbed her hand and let her pull him with her. He moved stiffly at first, simply moving his feet. Touko rolled her eyes at him and spun around to face him. She grabbed his hands and put them on her hips. "Move like this, not like a robot," she said teasingly, as she moved her round hips deliberately and smoothly. Sensing his hesitation, she put her hands on his hips and moved them in time with hers. He blushed, embarrassed by her forwardness and his awkward movement. "Relax," she said. "You're doing fine; just let go."

He took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling her shaking her hips beneath his hands. He let his muscles loosen and he slowly let his hips move as fluidly as she did. He smiled, allowing himself to luxuriate in the free feeling such movement gave him. He let his head nodded rhythmically to the beat of the song. "Now put your hands up!" Touko shouted jovially, immensely proud of N's progress, as she put her hands in the air and moved them sporadically to the beat.   

The song ended softly and Touko flashed him a bright smile. "Nice moves, N. I think you were better than me. You'll be a regular party animal in no time," she said, giggling.

The next song began to play on her stereo; it was much softer than the last had been. Touko tried to walk off their improvised dance floor, but N still held her hips in his hands. "I've always wanted to dance with someone to a song like this," he said softly. "Would you do me the honor?" he said, taking her hand in his.

She felt herself melting inside; nobody had ever asked her to dance that way before. She smiled, moving in closer to him, and let her free arm hang loosely around his neck. He placed his hand gingerly on the small of her back and pulled her close as he slowly began to turn in small circles. Touko let her head rest against his shoulder and breathed in his scent.

She sighed, loving the feeling of having him hold her so gently and yet so passionately. He lightly stroked her back, making her feel dizzy and light-headed. Unwilling to hold back her urges any longer, she pressed her lips to his neck and kissed him lightly. As the music swelled, its sweet melody filling her tiny room, N could take no more. He had thought about her the entire day and now she was in his arms, utterly and completely his. She looked into his deep green eyes, savoring the soft gentility of them, and without warning she was lifted from the ground.

Following his lead entirely, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed her against the wall, her hair covering their faces like a soft veil.  "N," she said breathlessly as he kissed her neck softly. She grabbed at his hair as he continued to kiss down her neck to her collar bone, enjoying his frustration with her new shirt's high neckline. His hands grasped her thighs tightly, making her sigh from his touch. She tilted his head upward and put her hand on his cheek gently, caressing it with her fingertips.

His lips crashed against hers frantically, all of his longing and yearning for her clearly evident in his hasty motions. The chaste, sweet kisses he normally gave her had been replaced by this pleading, sensual embrace. Never before in her life had Touko been kissed so passionately. His lips felt warm and full against hers, sending those now yearned for jolts of electricity through her body; as he parted her lips, she was only too happy to obey.  

She let her hands rest on his chest, her fingers locked in the fabric of his hideous pink shirt. Slowly, he pulled away from her, making her groan in frustration. He smiled at her impatience, luxuriating in a feeling of confidence he had never experienced before as he drank in her flushed and euphoric face. He lifted her once again, this time carrying her to her bed. Touko's stomach felt as though it were full of Butterfrees as he carefully set her down.  

She kept her hands on N's chest, stroking it imploringly. He pushed her on to her back, climbing on top of her nervously, his body now shaking from a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. She kissed his forehead tenderly and brushed his unruly hair back from his face. Again she let her hand trail up and down his chest, pleading with him silently to continue.

She would learn quickly that he needed no imploring tonight.