Fairy Tale

想了当年，一直问自己：我们能找到幸福的结局吗？若能回到过去，能补偿现在的遗憾吗？

有些人，就说可以的。那就说明，我们的爱从来不够，从来不够避免这个结局。

现在，我在宽阔黯淡的海洋内迷路了。只能希望，在下一生，我会当个更好的爱人，不允许我们遭遇悲局。

The beach was dotted with countless figures: it was one of the biggest festivals in the whole year, after all. Yan laughed, bounding over to the stretch of sand that lay before his eyes.

“Come on, Fen! You’ve gotta be faster if we ever want to do anything here!”

He turned his head, yelling backwards. His boyfriend was chasing after him hurriedly, chest heaving slightly.

“Just wait until I catch you!”

They sped off to the beach, Yan ahead and Fen just behind, probably annoying everyone else along the way. Inside, he was pretty sure acting so childlike wasn’t a very good idea, but his heart didn’t care.

It was the Full Moon Festival, after all.

He tumbled onto the beach, sending a spray of sand upwards (and thankfully into no one). The next moment, Fen crashed right into him.

“Got you!” he exclaimed, poking Yan on the forehead. They laughed together, loud and happy and joyful.

“C’mon, let’s go have some fun!” Fen continued, running over to the ocean.

Yan beat him to it, though, pouncing straight into the water and soaking the both of them. He shook off all the water, and once his vision was reasonably going to work, Yan was met with the sight of Fen miserably standing in front of him.

That was, until he was thrown back into the water, a Monferno yelling above him.

They played around in the water, pouncing on each other and getting thoroughly wet in the process, until Yan’s limbs ached from splashing water at Fen and his chest hurt from laughing so much.

He crawled out of the sea, fur sopping wet, and collapsed on the shoreline. Beside him, Fen did the same.

“Hah… “ Fen breathed. “I still won in the end, though.”

“Absolutely not,” Yan grinned.

“Oh, yes I did!”

“Nnnope!” Yan laughed again. They stayed silent after that, recovering from the little water fight. Yan quietly slipped a paw into Fen’s hand, and they laid in the sun drying themselves off for a little while more.

“Okay, I’m dry enough now, let’s get up again,” Fen got up, pulling Yan with him.

“But I’m still wet,” he complained.

“Well, that sounds like a you problem,” Fen snickered.

He humphed, shaking off all the water and sand (onto Fen, of course) before running away.

“You— I’m not letting you get away with that!” Fen said indignantly, hastily wiping off some sand.

They spent a while longer under the sun chasing each other, taking a short break to build a little sandcastle (Yan really did feel like a child again doing all this), before electing to simply sit down and watch the waves from one of the small clifftops above the beach.

Suddenly, he felt something on his snout. A light pitter-patter sound soon emerged all around them, and he realised the sky had been getting gradually darker.

“Quick! Before it gets worse!” Fen exclaimed, jumping to his feet and taking off back towards Alishan.

Yan ran as fast as he could, trying to outrun the rain itself. They made it to a little tea house near the edge of town, and Fen slammed the door open trying to speed in.

Thankfully, they hadn’t gotten too wet. Unthankfully, everyone in the tea house was staring at them.

Well, we have just barged in like maniacs. And we are still a little bit wet.

Fen walked confidently over to an empty table for two by the window and sat down, browsing the menu card relaxedly. Yan followed after him, hopping onto his seat and peeking at Fen’s card.

“Hey, wait for me to choose first,” he muttered.

After looking through and ordering, Fen started commenting on his drink choice (as always).

“Four Seasons Tea again?”

“What? It’s good.”

“Yes, but the same thing every time…” Fen brought a hand to his forehead exasperatedly. “What am I even doing, we’ve had this discussion so many times already… and its not like I don’t order Osmanthus the whole time.”

“It’s tradition,” Yan declared. “You can’t not bring it up anymore. It must be done every time.” Fen simply nodded sagely.

The tea arrived. Yan took a sniff, then a taste.

Better than average.

“So,” Fen smiled. “Any other plans for our date today?”

Yan smiled back. “No, not really. We’ll figure it out.”

“Of course we will,” he nodded, sipping from his cup. His eyes were alight with life and that little bit of mischief, and Yan thought it looked like the brightest fireworks in the sky.

“For now I just want to enjoy this moment here. With you,” he said.

“Hiding from the rain and drinking the same thing we always order.”

“Of course,” he made as if to punch him playfully. Under the table, Yan brushed his tail against Fen’s (unfortunately they were both too small to twine them properly like this).

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying their drinks. Fen started staring out the window, and Yan followed his gaze. It was still raining, the world on the other side of the glass painted in a mixture of cool grays and warm browns and comforting greens from the buildings and the trees and the sky, blended together by the rain, formed into irreplicable colours. It was gloomy, but it felt homely too.

“What’s so interesting about the outside?”

“Well, it’s raining. And it looks interesting.”

“Surely I must be more interesting than the rain, right?”

Fen laughed, sweet and warm, “Well, that’s something I’ve never heard of.”

Yan sputtered, unintelligible sounds of protest falling from his mouth.

“Ah, shush, of course you’re more interesting than the rain. You adorable idiot.”

He groaned. “I hate you sometimes.”

“But you always come back to loving me, don’t you?” Fen cackled. Yan pouted, and he chuckled.

---

After the rain ended, it was already sunset, and they decided to go to the Old Street for snacks (well, they were replacing dinner with snacks). Fen walked close to Yan, jostled by the sea of pokemon around them on the narrow street. Above them, the lanterns were already lit, giving the entire street a warm orange glow, even though the sun hadn’t fully set yet. Pokemon milled about, queues forming at the streetside stalls. The air was filled with chatter, everyone talking about any number of things.

“Hey, Fen, look, they’re selling banana fritters there!” Yan pulled his hand, bringing them over to one of the countless stalls, miraculously without queue. 50 Poke later, they both held one fritter each, Yan taking a bite of his immediately.

Fen did too, savouring the taste. They walked and ate at the same time, chatting about any number of things. Every now and then, they would buy something: more food, little good luck charms, a new scarf for Yan.

“Look, there’s a small temple, let’s go check it out,” Fen pointed. They navigated their way through the crowd, reaching it after a lengthy struggle. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“I hate the crowds…”

“Well, it’s part and parcel of the experience! But now we can rest for a little while, so look on the bright side!” Yan grinned.

Seeing his boyfriend like that, Fen couldn’t help but break out into a grin himself. They quickly wolfed down their tanghulu and went up the stairs, flanked by the two stone guardian tigers. All the way inside was a small statue of the city god, the incense censer in front of it. Fen took a few incense sticks, lighting them easily with his fire and flicking the sticks to extinguish the flame. Clasping the sticks in his hands, Fen closed his eyes and began to pray.

Give us good luck and good fortune, and may we grow old and happy together.

He went through the process, kneeling in front of the statue and letting the incense burn, before standing up again and putting the sticks into the censer. From his bag, he pulled out a few berries and gummis as well as fruit, placing them on the table in front of the statue as offerings.

Fen’s mind felt a lot better. They would be together. They would be happy.

He caught Yan’s eye, doing the exact same thing beside him. Fen brushed his tail against his, face sending a message of I love you and we’ll be together forever.

Exiting the temple, they walked the short distance to the end of the street, pausing only once more along the way, at a stall selling their favourite snack.

“Look, date walnut cakes! Come on, we have to go get some!” Yan’s eyes sparkled as he dragged Fen over to the stall.

Another 100 Poke and 2 big date walnut cakes later, they were out of the street. Fen stretched his arms behind his head, letting out a relieved groan.

They wandered around for a little while, browsing the streets under the light of the full moon and the lanterns on every building, looking like their own set of stars. Fen looked up, at the actual night sky with all its stars, tinted with a warm orange glow from the lanterns. He smiled.

It felt so warm and homely, welcoming and loving.

(Just like a certain Growlithe at his side.)

Eventually, Fen and Yan stumbled into the park, stopping to lie down against a large rock.

He stared at the night sky again. It was a lot more like normal, with all the buildings being farther away, but Fen thought it looked more beautiful this way. The orange glow was still there, after all— fainter, but warmer, somehow, blending with the deep purples and blues of the sky and the bright whites of the multitudes of stars, and becoming ever more orange and indescribable.

“It’s so pretty tonight,” he murmured.

“Hm?”

“You, obviously,” Fen laughed. “Well, the sky. Look at it… the way the orange is in the sky. All those colours.”

Yan stared up at the sky with him, reaching one paw up towards it.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing, just playing around,” Yan chuckled, bringing his paw back and clasping Fen’s with it.

They lay in silence, hands clasped together, and Fen didn’t know how much time had passed, or even if it had.

“Look,” he smiled, “it’s a sky lantern.” Fen used his other hand to point at the little glowing orange blob, slowly floating further and further up into the sky.

Soon, more and more of them came floating up, all inscribed with the wishes of the Pokemon who’d released them. It was like a bunch of mini warm orange stars in the sky, ascending to join their cool white counterparts in the deep inky black of space.

Watching the lanterns slowly float into the sky, Fen suddenly felt a burst of happiness wash over him. He smiled goofily, reclasping Yan’s paw.

“I don’t want this to end,” he said, eyes shining with wonder. “Under the stars and the lanterns with you…”

Yan turned to face Fen, and he turned to face his boyfriend too.

“Neither do I. But it’ll end anyways… so we may as well enjoy it all.” He, too, had the dumbest, goofiest smile plastered on his face, and was avoiding Fen’s gaze.

But then all of a sudden Yan was right in his face, and they were kissing on the grass under the stars and the lanterns and the full moon, and Fen had never felt happier or more fulfilled or more alive than he did in this moment.

He twined their tails together, hugging Yan tightly. An eternity later, they finally split apart, and Fen snuggled his head into Yan’s neck fur, and it was so very soft, and he could have lain there forever like he did on many nights, and they laughed.

“I love you. I love you so much. We’ll be together, forever, just like the fairy tales.”

“I love you too,” Yan replied simply, stroking the top of Fen’s head gently with one paw.

They lay there, watching the stars and the lanterns until Yan fell asleep and Fen carefully carried him back home.

---

It was that awkward time of the year between winter and spring where it started warming up and the snow was beginning to disappear, a little bit, but the plum flowers hadn’t bloomed yet and everything just felt more gloomy.

Fits my emotions, I guess, Fen grimaced. This is not good for anything…

Since the festival (his heart brightened a little at the thought of that night), everything just went downhill. The country had been growing more restless— he knew that the rebels had been building strength, but no one quite expected this much.

His fellow agents had briefed him on the situation and given him his orders, and Fen knew there was a very real chance the coming storm was going to throw everything into chaos. His thoughts darkened as the picture of Yan dying flashed before his eyes, their home burning to the ground.

He clasped the pendant around his neck, made by Yan. It had a calming effect on his nervous mind.

We’ll be okay. Nothing will come out of this, and next festival we’ll be doing the exact same thing…

Slowly, he exhaled, letting all the worries and fears out with the air. Instead, Fen took a few moments to examine the surroundings— snow still lay on every corner, although reduced. All the trees were still bare, and the sun hung low and dim in the sky, casting everything in cool blue-gray light. Not pure white like the mounds of snow in the middle of winter, and not the specks of warm pink the plum flowers would bring.

Just a gloomy gray.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, Fen didn’t realise that he’d gone past their house, or that he was about to bump into someone doing the same thing he was.

He felt something impact his body, a small oof sound resulting. Fen looked down—

“Yan?”

His boyfriend shook his head slightly, looking up at him.

“Fen? What are you doing here?”

“Well… uh…”

Yan smiled cheekily. “Our house is behind you, you know.”

Fen turned around. Sure enough, there was the house standing behind him.

He turned back, smiling awkwardly. “Uhh… yeah.”

Aargh, it feels so terrible having to hide things from him!

(His heart hurt. He just wanted to say everything. Throw out all of his fears. But he knew he couldn’t.)

(It was simply far too dangerous.)

“Come on, you idiot, let’s go in first.”

Fen nodded dumbly, following Yan into the house.

A while later, they sat at the dining table, with two cups of tea and two date walnut cakes.

(Just like the festival.)

Unlike the festival, the silence was a lot more awkward than comfortable.

They were both very clearly hiding something, doing terrible jobs at hiding that fact, and trying to avoid talking about it.

And I thought we were lovers, Fen thought sarcastically.

But here, in the silence, all of his worries came back like a plague. Taking hold in his mind and heart and refusing to die no matter what he did.

It just felt too real, especially with the knowledge that Yan was hiding something too (albeit doing a better job at it; Fen was too anxious at the moment).

What if he’s kidnapped? What if Alishan gets destroyed because… because I failed, and the rebels reached the city/ What if he dies because of something I did? What if… no, no! No…

Yan was not working for the rebels. He was not.

(To be honest, Fen had proof to the contrary. His fellow agents would definitely tell him to be more suspicious.)

(But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. How could he?)

“So,” Yan breathed. “It’s, uh, been awkward…”

Ah, fuck it. I have to say something. I can’t hide all this.

“I— I’m just, so worried…” Fen stood up, pacing anxiously. Yan did the same quickly afterward, pulling him into a hug.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere more comfortable…”

He brought him back to their bedroom, and they curled up together on the big nest in the middle. Fen looked out the window. The sky was grey and cloudy, just like his heart at the moment.

“So, what’s wrong?” Yan asked softly, curling his fluffy tail around Fen and nuzzling his cheek.

“I—“ Fen choked. “Everything’s just been feeling so wrong recently,” he cried, breaking down into tears.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…”

“No, it’s not, I’ve just, something’s going to happen and it’s, I’m so afraid…” he sobbed.

Yan licked the top of his head and pulled Fen closer to his body.

“It’ll be all right as long as we’re together. We’ll protect each other, no matter what happens,” he said, tone assuring and confident.

“Promise?” Fen sniffled.

(Heaven, he hadn’t cried in so long. It felt… good.)

(Knowing he was safe here.)

Yan laughed. “Of course.”

Fen smiled once more. “Thank you.”

“Well, you are my husband.”

Fen looked out the window again. Nothing had changed, it was just as grey as before, but there was a bit more light now.

The world’s so much brighter with you.

“D’you just want to sleep now and to hell with the consequences?”

He laughed. “Why not? I’m tired out from worrying, anyways.”

Yan nodded, going off to turn all the lights off first, before curling back up with Fen, his tail wrapped around both of them.

(Fen had never felt warmer and safer in his life.)

---

It was a lovely spring morning when Yan woke up, until he noticed Fen had disappeared overnight.

At first, he thought it was simply a trick of his still-groggy brain. Or that he’d woken up early and gone off somewhere else in the house (as he sometimes did).

But as he stumbled through the house, his heart grew heavier and heavier with every additional room without Fen in it. Soon, he’d gone through the whole house twice, all without a single trace of a Monferno, and by then Yan was fully awake from panic and the feeling of his heart pumping furiously in his chest.

Now, he stood in their bedroom again, alone. Sunlight streamed through the window, brightening everything and clashing horribly with his current emotional state.

He’s gone. He’s just gone.

Yan’s mind raced with possibilites. There weren’t many, if at all. He knew that Fen wouldn’t just leave, especially not without saying a single word.

(His mind kept going back to one possibility, without fail.)

(It crept up into his heart, like a black rot, corroding everything inside.)

“No! No, no, it can’t be that. It can’t…”

(You know it, it whispered, in glee at his panic.)

“No… no!”

(You can’t deny it. It’s the only possibility, the voice continued, taking over everything else.)

(The more he tried to ignore it, the worse it got.)

Thump.

(Yan was vaguely aware that he’d collapsed onto the floor.)

(Something wet flowed down his cheeks, staining his fur.)

(His tail came up to drape over his nose.)

(You were told it would start a few days ago, it crooned, dark and smug in its triumph.)

(Face it, Yan.)

(He was sobbing. He was incapable of doing anything else.)

Why… WHY?

WHY?

(Yan yelled out the last word, a demand for the universe to explain.)

(A tear dripped off his face, splashing on the floor.)

(Yan stood up again, shakily, and walked back into the nest, curling up.)

He didn’t want to believe it. Why would he?

But he’d done something, something he was ashamed of.

He gave up. And his heart was corroded away, dissolved, and all that was left was the rot.

(No matter how much he wanted to deny it, Yan knew it was correct.)

(It was the truth, whether he liked it or not. Blinding and pure and uncaring and cold, dissolving everything in its wake.)

Yan knew the rebellion would have begun a few days ago, with spring in full swing. He’d been told so, ordered to standby and assist their forces in taking over Alishan.

And Fen had disappeared, just as the rebellion started. Yan knew all the agents in the city; Fen wasn’t one of them.

He was on the other side now.

Later that day, a message dropped by. He had to go to another meeting. So Yan did, distracted and mind completely away from body. He was mildly aware of what his fellow agents were saying, and gave the perfunctory answers necessary.

(One of them shot a concerned look at him.)

The meeting passed by in a blur. Yan somehow managed to get back home once more, and then forced himself to get to the nest before collapsing.

He succeeded at this, at least.

And the tears came flowing again, and the sobbed questions came again, and his heart hurt; his chest hurt, his whole body ached.

(Whether it was from crying so much or from the pain, he didn’t know.)

(Fen’s scent still hung on the nest, like fragrant incense and a tinge of the jasmine flowers he loved so much.)

(His chest heaved. It was too much. It was all too much.)

---

A cold wind whistled, unrelenting and far too harsh for the middle of autumn. Above, the moon hung high in the sky, just a sliver away from full. It was a cloudy night— the world was cold and dark, and the only flicker of warmth Fen could find was his own body.

It’s almost the festival again.

Fen stared up at the moon, contemplating the past year. His hand reached for the little gold pendant around his neck, the one that had been with him through everything.

How far away last year was.

His tail flicked. The pendant opened, to reveal an orange jasmine, lovingly preserved within in. Under the moonlight, weak and fighting through the clouds, the metal shined, and the white petals of the flower seemed to glow.

If only everything could be like what it was.

Fen smiled bitterly. He knew. They’d seen each other on the front, after all. And now, he was the one who was losing. But there was no turning back.

(The chill winds burrowed under his fur, biting into his skin, sucking the warmth out of his body.)

(When had he even been warm, this past year?)

Fen gazed up at the moon again, poking through a hole in the clouds, seemingly perfectly formed just for it.

And so we gaze at the same moon, and so I think of you.

He lay down on the floor, and reached a hand up into the sky, just like how Yan had done last year.

Fen calmly noted that he wasn’t crying. Or feeling anything, really.

He had nothing left to give.

(The cold wind had stopped being cold.)

What else could he do, forcibly separated from Yan, knowing he was on the other side, knowing that they would have to fight?

Fen idly played with the pendant.

“Fen.”

He jolted back up, looking in the direction of the sound. An Arcanine stood, scarred and battle-hardened just like him, and numbed and gone, just like him.

“Yan,” he replied, almost emotionlessly. There had been too much. Everything had been too much. Fen looked away. He didn’t know if he could handle it.

Yan came over and sat down next to him. Fen coiled his tail around Yan’s, almost instinctively.

They sat in silence. Not awkward, or uncomfortable, because both of them had run out of space to feel those a long time ago. Just silence.

Eventually, Fen found himself cuddling with Yan.

(He was so fluffy.)

(And he was so warm.)

(Fen felt so warm.)

(When had he ever felt this warm?)

“Come with me,” Yan whispered. They stared at each other; the moon illuminated their faces. Fen saw the pain and the despair and the longing, the longing for when everything was alright. He saw hope, fighting for its life.

“We— we can be together again. And free. And happy, I just, I just want us to be happy…” Yan sobbed, hugging Fen so tightly. “It’s been so long… It’s been so long…”

Fen started crying too, hugging Yan back, holding him as tightly as possible.

“I can’t,” he cried, and everything came out. The regrets, the anger, the despair. But one was the most painful.

He wanted it. He wanted it so bad. To just run away and be happy.

But he knew he couldn’t. Too much had changed. And no matter what, he couldn’t abandon his duty either, and Yan couldn’t abandon his.

“No… no, no, no!” Yan howled. His chest heaved with emotion, and tears stained his face and Fen’s shoulder.

“It’s been too much,” Fen said, softer than a ghost. “I…”

After so much war, after everything, were they really the same Pokemon?

They were. He hoped they were. He so fervently believed they were, they could go back to what once was.

But he knew they couldn’t. Somehow, someway, it wasn’t.

“Just… we’ll be like the fairytales, okay? We’ll write our own happy ending, okay?” Yan whispered, and he stood up, legs shaking and body shivering from the emotional stress.

They shared the longest look, trying to remember and take in everything as fast as possible.

And just like that, Yan was gone once more. And Fen collapsed back onto the ground, breathing heavily, energy spent.

He should have gone. It was obvious. Of course he should have gone.

But it was impossible now. And it was inevitable, from the moment he chose to leave, callously, silently, chose to put duty over his life.

Fen wished, so badly, that he could go back, and tell Yan everything. Tell him everything, and escape the war together.

But no one could change the past.

Fen looked back on everything, before the war. Their dates, their escapades, every shining moment under the sun and the stars, love burning brightly and freely, pure and untainted.

Now that flame was dead, by their (his) hands, and he marched to doom. There was no way they would win.

But it still mattered. It still mattered, so much. That it was there, despite everything, that despite how impossible it was, however he told himself, he still believed, deep down.

He still wanted it.

Their love, clear as the blue spring sky, pure white like the moon, burning so bright like the stars dotting the sky, sweeter than the best orange jasmines.

Fen had been invincible once.

Now, a year later, it’s the end of the world.

…Will a grey sky let me forget who you are?

(No, it wouldn’t.)

Fen stayed there, gazing at the stars. They seemed to twinkle less that night, as if mourning. As if they knew.

He stared at the stars, at the splotches of deep blue and purple blending together, and he smiled.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… for everything… and I know I’m a coward, saying this after you’ve left, but I just wish… I just wish, in another world, we could have eaten date walnut cakes under this full moon once more. That I could have kept our promise.”

(He was so, so cold.)

---

The sky was stained orange-red by the sunset, as Fen lied in the tranquil silence once more.

Around him, the last sounds of battle faded away. They’d lost, of course.

And he lied on the grass, under the sunset, as everyone else in the army fled.

He knew, the Empire had nothing else to give.

The wind brushed past his fur, gently, as if trying to comfort him. Above him, the sky looked stained with blood from the battle, even though it wasn’t particularly bloody.

Except him.

Fen smiled. At least, in the end, he knew Yan won. And that was enough for him.

The pain was just a dull ache by now anyways.’

In the end, he supposed that was all that mattered.

“No,” a voice choked. A familiar voice, but yet so different from the one he’d loved.

Yan rushed over, kneeling over Fen’s broken body. The sunlight tinted his fiery orange fur, making Yan seem to glow in the dying light of dusk.

“No,” Yan sobbed, burying his head into Fen’s chest.

(His mane was so, so fluffy and comfortable.)

(Just like a year ago.)

“Why…”

Fen didn’t do anything. He was too tired, too broken, too weak.

“Don’t leave me,” Yan wailed, tears staining his face. “Don’t leave me!”

“I can’t survive without you,” he ended, all the energy gone.

“It’s okay,” Fen smiled weakly.

He’d accepted his fate. It was inevitable.

Fen brought one of his hands to the golden pendant around Yan’s neck, exactly identical to his own.

“It’s not okay,” Yan sniffled.

“I know,” Fen hugged his husband, stroking the top of his head, sinking into his thick mane, twining their tails together, everything. It felt so intoxicating. He felt so free.

“I know. And I… I just wish, in another world, in another world, we could have eaten date walnut cakes under the full moon once more. And that, and that I would have kept my promise.”

(Only now, in the face of death, was he brave enough.)

“It was never your fault,” Yan’s muffled voice came from his shoulder.

“And it was never yours either.”

They lay together under the orange-red sky, savouring whatever time they had left.

It was funny. Now, time seemed to be at a standstill.

But he knew he had to go anyways.

“Remember me, okay?”

“Of course I will,” Yan said. There was no more anguish in his voice, no more sadness. Fen knew he’d run out of energy too.

“And remember… remember the happy times. Remember everything we did together, every moment we had, everything… make sure it’s what you think about when you think of me, okay? Our… love… our bright, beautiful, shining love…”

“I will.”

“And remember… we’ll have our fairytale, and we’ll write our own happy ending…”

Fen hugged Yan as tightly as he could, and they shared one last kiss, long and bittersweet and intoxicating, so absolutely intoxicating. Despite everything, his heart fluttered, and for a moment it was a year ago again, they were back in Alishan, they were back under the night sky with the sky lanterns floating lazily above them, and all that existed was their love, pure and sweet and innocent, shimmering so vibrantly.

And he knew it was going to end, but he never thought it would until it did.

“Thank you for everything,” Yan said. “For everything. And… goodbye. We’ll, we’ll see each other again, okay?”

“Of course we will. I love you. I love you so much. And thank you too, for everything, and so much more,” Fen smiled weakly. His vision grew blurry from the tears again.

(He could feel everything slipping away.)

(Everything was growing darker.)

“I love you too,” Yan said, and then Fen twined their tails together and clasped their hands together, and the world went black.

---

He wasn’t feeling anything. He couldn’t.

There was nothing left to feel. Nothing left to feel with. Yan was gone, and all that remained was an empty husk of an Arcanine.

The following hours passed like a blur. He’d taken Fen’s body back to camp, and then volunteered to bring news of their victory back to Alishan, somehow putting on a facade of normalcy.

Now, after getting Fen through the teleport via yet-unknown means, Yan stood right outside of their home.

It looked exactly the same. Just like the day he’d left, the day everything broke.

He opened the door, stepping inside, going through every room, Fen’s body with him.

Everything was just as he left it; it was like looking back three seasons to the beginning of spring, as the world collapsed around him.

As he entered the bedroom, Yan saw the big nest, now far too small, still messy from his breakdown.

He sat on his haunches and laid Fen down on the floor, gently stroking his cheek.

(He looked so peaceful. If he wasn’t paying attention, Yan could almost say he was sleeping.)

He still had a job, though.

So Yan locked himself away once more, stepping outside, shouting the proclamation for all to hear. They had won. The Empire was defeated. They were free.

Everyone erupted into cheers. Yan was brought along by a whole crowd of jubilant Pokemon. It was already the Half Moon Festival, so they simply brought out more lanterns, more gongs, more of everything. Yan was funneled down a street, the same street as last year. He didn’t know what was going on. Everything was too fast, and he was locked away, and nothing was okay.

Would anyone believe him if he said he felt nothing? That none of this mattered to him, not when Fen wasn’t at his side?

Arceus, he wanted to leave, so bad, just run back and grieve in peace.

But he’d learnt to separate duty from himself, all the way back when it all begun.

He got a lot of free gifts, food items and lucky charms and the like. It was noisy. It was so noisy.

Eventually, Yan headed into a small bar, seeking respite. The Pokemon inside cheered, the owner gave him a free bottle, and he stayed inside for who-knows-how-long, drinking and pretending to be aware of the surroundings.

Yan stumbled outside, disoriented. He didn’t know anything anymore. He just let his feet take him wherever they wanted.

Eventually, though, he found himself at a park, under a tree, lying down, staring up into the sky. Yan looked up at the moon, bright and full and a pure, clean white; the stars, so many of them, shining as if they were also celebrating.

The sky lanterns, so numerous, so much more than last year. Full of hopes and wishes and dreams, of a better life and a better future, a free future.

Shakily, he reached a paw up into the sky.

“We’ll be together forever, just like the fairy tales.”

He remembered what Fen had said a year ago; what he’d repeated yesterday.

A promise unfulfilled, a soul broken.

Yan rummaged in his bag, just because he’d felt like it. He found two date walnut cakes. He remembered, the stall owner had insisted on giving them for free but Yan paid anyways. It was the same one from last year, and the only thing he accepted that he didn’t eat.

Yan stared at both cakes in his paw. They never ate them last year either.

He looked at the moon again. At everything around him, wildly. They were all so happy. So joyful. Everything was so bright. So noisy. It was too much.

(Something broke.)

It was just one at first, but then it kept coming, tear after tear, once again, flowing down his face, chest heaving. Yan ran, ran as fast as he could, away from the park, away from the city, away from everything. He was an outsider. Everything was broken, and gone. His vision turned into a blur, from the tears or from his mental state, he didn’t know.

The door slammed open. Yan grabbed Fen’s body, and then he ran again, chest burning from heartache and fatigue and anguish. Out, out, out. Back.

Eventually, though, he stopped, in a little field outside the city, where all he could hear was the soft rustling of the grass and leaves in the gentle wind. It brushed over his fur, carrying the tears away as they came. It stung. The pain dulled the heartache, just a little.

Yan started digging, in the middle of the field, their favourite field, the one with all the orange jasmines. A grave. His final goodbye.

It helped take some of the pain away. He lost himself in the manual labour and the sounds of the wilderness.

Eventually it was done, and he took a bit of time to look at his work. A hole, roughly regular in shape and depth.

He looked at Fen, lying limp on the ground nearby. Yan looked away, towards the ground at his feet, eyes full of regret and pain and longing, so much longing.

But he forced himself to look back, and there was a quiet strength in those eyes, that of acceptance.

After all, it was staring him in the face.

Yan picked up the body gently, gazing into Fen’s face.

It was so peaceful. So utterly silent, so unlike Fen.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He licked Fen’s cheek, one last time.

Slowly, so slowly, Yan lowered Fen into the hole. He arranged his right arm so that his hand was over the pendant.

Then, Yan took off his own. He opened it one last time, the small flower inside staring back at him.

He closed it, placing it under Fen’s hand, beside the other pendant.

“I’ll always remember you.”

Yan covered up the hole, and then he gathered all the flowers he’d removed and replanted them.

“They were always your favourite flowers.”

“We-we’ll meet again, okay? Soon…”

Yan squeezed his eyes shut.

(Something broke again, harder.)

He sobbed, and howled into the night at the unfairness of it all, lashing out.

Broken. Broken. Broken. Himself, the world, everything.

How was he supposed to pick up the pieces of their future, shattered into a million shards, each cutting into him and slowly killing him?

“Take me away,” Yan sobbed. “Arceus, please… just take me away…”

He curled up around the grave, body trembling and shaking from everything. The past year all came falling down, everything he’d repressed and pushed down and away. All the walls broke, and now Yan was falling, falling, falling, so fast.

Yan cried, and cried, under the light of the full moon, until he had no energy left, and then he fell asleep, wrapped around the grave amongst the flowers. The petals floated on the wind, covering the ground and his body.

Why did it have to be this way?

花儿飘浮在夜空上

我在月下，以生活无意哭

即使如此世还走前

但七里香落下我身与地

如曰世也哀叹也哭泣

奈何弥补遗憾？

奈何让伤心痊愈。

（那是无法的，唯有死亡能删除此深爱。）

你曾说七里香的名字很美

现在，望落下的花瓣与某片地

它则是最沮丧的名。