Contents:
Wesley
Obvious exits:
South-West <SW> leads to The Kanmou Breeding Center - Driveway.
West <W> leads to Plains - Route 11: Scattered Homesteads.
East <E> leads to Plains - Route 11: Wheat and Rice.

Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west. The wind is gusty. In the forest, fiery red, gold, and orange leaves rustle and blow past you, swirling in the wind. While at the coast, the sea is a warm blue, reflecting the saved warmth from the summer, and the waves are gentle.

Another beautiful fall day. The sun is high in the sky, though descending quickly. The gusts are fierce, though not to the point of discomfort - in fact, it's rather refreshing and revitalizing. The tall grass of route 11 sways softly in aforementioned afternoon breeze, causing the hills that roll up to the horizon to appear alive as the blades shift back and forth. Needless to say, it's a nice day for a walk, which is the exact mindset of two trainers this day - Wesley Brier and Melissa Barlette. Still, their reason for wandering the route is no mere stroll; they have a quest. "Do you... think we're almost there, Wesley?" the female trainer asks, glancing down at her feet - grasping at her glasses in the process to keep them from tumbling off. "My legs are getting tired." Though she doesn't sound overly whiny, she's still complanining nonetheless, and even her Growlithe, CrystalFire, can't help but growl a little. <It's not that hard,> she woofs softly as she marches along, her snow white fur ruffling in the winds. <It's lots of fun!> As if to prove her point, she lifts her head up and puffs her chest out, as if enjoying the environment.

Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west. The wind is gusty.

Wesley Brier is in his element. He has a destination in mind, and he proudly strides towards it, with pokemon surrounding him, a friend by his side and the weather being kind and considerate. This is a showy but ultimately gentle autumn, as opposed to the weepy and miserable summer before it. That Wesley has left Lavender by now is proof that he's out of both tournaments which isn't that surprising to the boy. Wesley is as close to comfortable as he can get and - while his level of excitement isn't at bookstore proportions - he's not suffering in that department either. That Melissa is complaining barely registers with the kid. "Oh, don't worry Melissa, we're almost there," the boy says, his grey eyes scanning westwards. He's quite cheery, though Wesley's 'cheery' is another person's 'slightly uplifted'. "See? Up ahead!" He points...and there is indeed a building out that way. As for his pokemon, they seem to agree with CrystalFire the Growlithe. <Lovely day,> Fistfight notes with a chuckle. <Yeah!> <All right!> call Spike the Nidoran and Cartwheel the Staryu, dashing along up ahead. Three young Ekanses slither in front of Fistfight, testing the air with their tongues as they move.

Melissa simply gives CrystalFire a grin. Despite her tired legs, she herself is also in a good mood. She's a inside-kinda girl who would rather spend the night on the couch reading a book, but that doesn't mean she can't enjoy the great outdoors here and there. "Mmmm," is her reply as she runs a hand through her wildly unsettled hair, much of which hovers in the air thanks to the powerful winds. <That's it?> the little puppy at her side barks uncertainly, her pace slowing considerably. Melissa glances back at the snow white Growlithe, gesturing ahead. "We don't... venture this route very often," the girl says softly to Wesley, almost as if she's embarrassed to admit it. "But it's nice. I've heard a lot about... about this, um, this breeding center. Do you know if they, uh, if they let you see the baby pokemon?" Melissa blushes a tad, though the hair blowing across her cheeks may hide this from Wesley. Hey - typical female.

Wesley is a bit ahead of Melissa, mostly because he wants to get to the Center soon and also because he knows the way to it. As Melissa speaks, the boy nods his head absently, and ponders his reply. That Wesley; he always thinks before he speaks. Or tries to, at any rate. He looks over his shoulder to speak to his friend. "I've been here a few times. Once I saw a Drowzee here, but it ran off through the fields and I didn't chase it. That was further up, though. I used to go to the Center in Fuchsia, but the breeder who owned it closed it down, and the pokemon were sent over to this Center. And, yeah, they let you see the babies - I saw one last time I visited." There's no details from Wesley on what Melissa probably is the most interested in. Typically boyish. He also looks at her flowing hair; maybe she should get it cut? It must be hard dealing with hair that long. <And the baby was so cute!> Fistfight says, clasping her hands together. <It was!> notes the young male Ekans. <Yep--ah!> says Spike, the 'ah!' coming from when Cartwheel playfully sprays water at him. He responds by batting at the Staryu with his paws, giggling all the while.

CrystalFire seems to have a hard time keeping the pace of Melissa and Wesley - not because they're too slow; rather, quite the contrary. CrystalFire's never been one to whine, but even she can't help but growl is annoyance every so often. Especially now - now that she's engaged in conversation, the teenage girl is walking even slower than before. With a tiny little whimper, the Growlithe sprints forward to meet up with the pokemon ahead to see if *their* pace is any faster. Back to Melissa: "Right... I-I... read about the move." She's silent for a couple seconds, before turning her head to face her friend, her pace slowing even further. "R... really? Gosh," she mumbles, her hands clenching into fists. "I wonder if I'll see some baby Pikachus... or a baby Oddish!" Her pitch has risen a little, though thankfully she's not quite squealing from cuteness. Even Melissa's not that bad. Turning her head to the front, Melissa offhandedly asks, "What are they talking about?" She is, of course, referring to the pokemon in front of her, but given that she's being vague and also not looking at the little creatures, it's not as obvious as it may seem.

October means Kats come out to 'play', save the data! Right away! (Saving)

CrystalFire would be overjoyed - though Fistfight and the Ekans trio keep close to their trainer, Spike and Cartwheel are a good eight feet up ahead of him, "Hya!"ing and "Niidonido!"ing as they move forward, taking the time out to scuffle once or twice. Wesley almost can't hear Melissa when she speaks - as she slows down, Wesley keeps his pace. It's only when Melissa's voice raises to a higher key, Wesley glances back at her and sees her mouth moving. Darn, he should try and listen, then. "Uh, I'm sure you'll see baby Pikachus, Melissa." That's kind of why they're going there. "I'm not sure about Oddish, though." He's clearly wondering why she'd want to see any in the first place, as the kid is quite unaware that Gloom is one of Melissa's favourite pokemon. Fistfight chuckles. <You were as bald as an Oddish when you were born, kiddo!> "Uh..Oddishes have leaves." <All right, fine, but you were bald and cute!> "She's talking about..uh, me as a baby now," Wesley mumbles, only speaking because Melissa asked and Wesley, bless him, cannot tell a lie. <Ten times as cute as any Pikachu baby!> Fistfight continues, off in a blissful world of memory, but Wesley doesn't translate.

CrystalFire has half a mind to just run to the center and run back. As a matter of fact, she probably would, if she didn't realize that it would be decisively dangerous. CrystalFire's not necessarily a scardy-pup - but that doesn't mean she'll take unnecessary risks. As a result, the pup amuses herself by running from the pokemon to the humans to the pokemon to the humans, back and forth, back and forth. Melissa grins softly, mumbling a little, "I wish I could see... Butterfree babies." She opens her mouth wider as if to protest that she knows that Butterfree babies are just Caterpies, but she doesn't get the chance - no, her open mouth only emits a giggle. "Really?" she asks, partially in disbelief, before giggling a little bit more. "W..." Melissa pauses for a second here, her blush becoming considerably more intense, and, her pace quickening despite her feet shuffling, she asks, "... Were you cute?"

At Melissa's question, Wesley's eyes are fastened on the road ahead; it's hard to have a conversation with someone when you're in front of them. The child's mouth is silenced by his brain as his that giant mass of tissue ponders on how to answer this annoyingly girly question. He can't say 'shut up', like he's said to Fistfight when she brought it up in times past; the Machop laughs these things off, Melissa wouldn't. "I...can't say I'm in a position to remember the extent of my cuteness when I was born, Melissa," is the boy's cautiously neutral response. But, hey, it's a truthful one. Fistfight giggles and turns back to Melissa, almost bumping into the rushing white Growlithe as she takes her eyes off the road. The fighter points to Wesley and nods vigorously, a grin on her almost-human face. The group comes closer and closer to Kanmou, though the pale boy doesn't give a superfluous 'almost there!', as anyone with eyes can hopefully see the building. "Uh...speaking of babies..your birth...day," Wesley says suddenly, grasping at the fragment of a memory. "Is it coming up soon?" Hey, at least there's a powerful mental association in that topic change. It's easy to go from babies to birthdays.

Wesley's "cautiously neutral response" wins a blink from Melissa, who frowns softly at her friend's hardness (or at least, in her eyes). "B... but you... don't have pictures?" The ignorance of this statement soon hits her - she remembers how different her family unit is from Wesley's, how different the attention and affection she received were... A chill rips through Melissa's body, though whether it's a result of the cold wind or a thought is uncertain. Wesley ventures upon a topic change - and to cover up for her silly question, she jumps right upon it. "It... it was about two and a half months ago," the girl says, though she doesn't sound overly annoyed or angry at the boy. It's not like she told him. "July 17th. I'm seventeen now." CrystalFire, in the meantime, is thankfully just quick enough to dodge out of the way of the wandering Fistfight. The Growlithe seems to be tiring herself out very quickly - she's moving at a very hyper rate. <Are...> Pant. <We almost...> Pant. <There yet?>

And here they are! Look, there's a sign, too. They're at Kanmou! Wesley walks down the gravel driveway. Spike and Cartwheel have now stopped their little playfights and are rushing flat out to the door, small stones flying from underneath their paws and points. It's a close race, they're neck and neck..and in the end, they both get to their precious door anyway. Wesley isn't even watching the race - presumably the young duo have done that so many times it no longer holds a shred of interest. He's busy pondering Melissa's question. /Why/ would he have pictures? Do other people? The young lad looks back at Melissa, a thoughtful look in his eyes..before those eyes are covered by his eyelids in a blink; following that blink his gaze is now surprised. July 17th. He missed it. "...Oh," he says, sounding rather embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I forgot when it was." Because she didn't tell you, kid. <Think we need to sing a late happy birthday?> Fistfight suggests with a grin, to which the answer is a firm "No," from the boy. He is now at the entrance of the Center; the building isn't given a second glance by any from Wesley's group. The pale trainer turns from Melissa and raps on the door. Perhaps he feels like rapping his own head and saying 'stupid! I forgot her birthday! Stupid, stupid, stupid!'

Melissa smiles at her little Growlithe, before giving a small point towards the breeding center. The snow-white puppy skids to a stop, perks up her tail, and quickly whips her head in the direction in which Melissa is pointing. <Is that it?> she asks curiously, her bushy tail now bursting into a set of excited wags. <Is that the-> Pant. <-Breeding center? It looks so big!> Falling into place next to her trainer, CrystalFire now has absolutely no complaints about the slow pace the humans have adopted - she's so tired, she wishes they'd slow down. Melissa gets a moment or two to look around the breeding center before Wesley absorbs her attention. She gives her friend a small smile, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly as she glances down at CrystalFire - who was a gift from Wesley, was she not? "I should have... m-mentioned it, Wesley," Melissa says softly, her voice not even slightly offended. "I mean... ... I don't think I remember yours, either." She's silent for a couple moments. "Maybe you should knock again," the girl mumbles offhandedly. "... It's... not closed today, is it?" How would Wesley know any better than her?

October means Kats come out to 'play', save the data! Right away! (Saving)

Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west. The wind is gusty.

<C'mon! Where is she?> whines Spike. <Yeah, I wanna go play!> seconds Cartwheel. Fistfight also frowns a bit - usually they get better service than this. There's a pause as they boy just stands in front of the door, only broken by a rustle as Spike scratches his side with a hindfoot. "I think it's usually open...this just means the two breeders here are either in the back, or..well, that they're not here." That sounds like two of the most obvious things in the world to think up, but for the Brier boy, it's hard. The breeders were here before, they have always been here, and should be here now! It's all part of their routine! The boy faces Melissa, though he doesn't move away from the door. "And I'm still sorry about missing your birthday, because..friends, well...that is what they do, right?" His look is a plaintive one, asking for her opinion. "It's okay that you never went to my birthday, because I don't celebrate it and I..don't usually remember when it is." Wesley gives a little shrug, but his face is apologetic. The kid has been paying attention to Society's Rules, and he's figured out that not knowing your birthday is a Stupid Thing. Someday he'll be a real boy!

Melissa only crosses her arms across her chest after coming to a stop, the chill of the air perhaps just not having an effect on her. One tends to ignore the cold after walking for a while. "What..." Melissa lifts her head up a bit, shaking her hair a bit to get it off of her face. "What should we do?" she inquires, peering up and down the center. "Sh... shall we, um, go in and wait? ... Wait out here?" She hesitates slightly at the thought of waiting. She should have dressed more warmly. "... Or... try again later?" CrystalFire replies right about now. <I don't mind waiting!> Of course she doesn't, she's got a thick coat of white fur. Of course, if they're going to wait, the Growlithe has some plans. Stepping up next to her trainer, the pup affectionately rubs her head and muzzle against her trainer's ankle. Melissa almost automatically responds by squatting down - she doesn't even look at the pup first - and lovingly scritching the puppy under her chin with her right hand and behind the ears with her left. CrystalFire's gentle growls show that Melissa's hit her two favorite spots. Her pokemon content, Melissa continues scratching the pup as she says, though she's slightly more distracted now, "I really don't mind, Wesley." She pauses for a second. Scritch, scritch. She gives Wesley a nervous and slight - though genuine - smile. "... Your friendship... that's my b-birthday gift." Aw.

There's a boy. There's a girl. And a whole bunch of perky, persistant and just plain pretty pokemon out in a relatively out of the way patch of the Island. The sun is setting and the breeze is blowing, mussing up hair, fur and cooling skin. What a beautiful little scene. And what is Wesley thinking as he sees Melissa now in her element, being nice to her pokemon and giving him happywarm feelings of friendship? 'Oh...God. How, /how/ do I respond to this?' As Wesley's thoughts run screaming through his brain, dumping over cabinets and upturning files in their search for a coherent response, /any/ response, Wesley just looks at Melissa with a blank little face. <Say thank you, Wesley,> Fistfight says gently. But Wesley doesn't listen to Fistfight as he has so many times in the past. "Melissa, you're...so old, Melissa." ..Eh? But Wesley doesn't say it like an insult; it's more like he's envious of her 'old age', though the look on his face is lost, smattered with confusion. "Why me? I'm just..me, Melissa. You're..not. You're more. You could...not just be friends with..with some kid." A kid whose own mother abandoned him. That isn't stated, or even hinted at by the boy - but subconsciously it's there.

The orange-red sun sinks below the western horizon, leaving a darkening tapestry of purple and red-gold clouds behind it.

Melissa's scrub deeper into CrystalFire's fur as she continues to rub the pup's warm skin affectionately. When the puppy pokemon can find the chance she affectionately nuzzles her trainer's arm or hand, but for the most part, the canine is in her own little world. "Good girl," the teenager mumbles, quietly through from the heart. And then Wesley begins to speak. Melissa's movements become more mechanical. Her attention shifts from her pokemon to her human friend, and she blinks, rotating her head slowly and jerkily towards him. "... I'm not..." she begins to protest, but what Wesley is actually -saying- sinks in only a couple seconds later. The girl's heart drops a little, and her scritching becomes much slower - much to CrystalFire's disappointment. "But... you're not... just some kid," the girl replies, as though she herself is perplexed at Wesley's logic. "I... don't really... make many friends, but even if I did, you would... you'd be my favorite, my best friend." Melissa takes a glance over at Fistfight - the old Machop, Wesley's... protector, of sorts. "... Age... doesn't... mean anything at all." She gestures towards Fistfight, though the girl keeps in mind that Wesley might not understand. Poor guy.

Wesley's confusion deepens and as usual it shows on his face. He wasn't sure if that was what he wanted to say, or even what he was getting at. It's confusing when your analytical abilities are in the negative numbers and you have only a small awareness of self. Give Wesley a math problem, he'll do it. A pokemon battle and he'll do that too. Speaking of pokemon - the three snakelings look bored, Spike and Cartwheel have moved away from the door and are chatting about this that and especially the other thing, and Fistfight is looking between Wesley and Melissa, her expression quite concerned. Maybe Wesley is growing up a bit; he certainly wouldn't be able to form a thought like this when he first started out! And as for thoughts, Wesley's don't suddenly turn happy when Melissa speaks, though he does flush pink. "I.." he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "It's just that you're practically an adult now. I might not have thought it before but...seventeen. When you're eighteen you can, uh, drive a car and stuff." She could do that at sixteen, but Wesley probably doesn't know that. "And older people aren't usually friends with..." his eyes drop "children. I'm not even a teenager yet." Or at least that's how he views the world. <Wesley, Melissa is going to be your friend,> Fistfight lectures, but kindly. <It doesn't matter how the world works; you guys're your own people and you don't care 'bout that stuff.> Wesley looks dismally over at Fistfight. Perhaps he'll need some more time to think about her words. But does Melissa have any to add? Even if she does, Wesley isn't looking her way to check. He's still stinging with this feeling of...unworthiness. Damned if he knows where it came from.

October means Kats come out to 'play', save the data! Right away! (Saving)

CrystalFire now begins to nudge her trainer softly, ignorant to the conversation she's having. If she's going to sit here and wait without getting mad, she thinks it's only fair that she receive attention where attention is due. Melissa glances over at CrystalFire, mutters a half-felt apology, and continues scritching, though it's light. The girl is too distracted, but CrystalFire settles for the gentle touching. Even if it does tickle. "... Wesley..." the girl says softly, her eyes shining behind her glasses, looking into CrystalFire's own glazed, vapid, and content ones. "I... thought..." Her voice drops a little here. Her legs are starting to get uncomfortable from her squatting position, but she does a magnificent job ignoring it. "... I thought you wouldn't care... what other people... think or do. We're... we're friends, and it really..." The girl sniffs here, turning her head to the side slightly. She's still looking at her Growlithe while effectively hiding her face from Wesley. She doesn't seem to be crying quite yet, for despite the sniff, her voice isn't cracked or soft, just a little deeper. "Really doesn't matter if "old people" aren't friends with "children"." There's a pause here. Melissa scritches CrystalFire's cheeks. She's quoting a cliche she read in a book one now, but it still comes out very... real. "... It's not the outside but the inside that counts."

Brindled clouds conceal a few patches of starlit sky.

One of the snakes hisses <getting cold,> as she looks up at her trainer. And getting cold for a snake is not very fun. They aren't able to shiver in an attempt to produce body heat. Wesley doesn't reply physically with a nod or verbally with a word; he just takes his pokeballs from his belt and, mechanically, recalls his three pokemon. It takes some time, and Melissa has already started talking by the time he's finished. For once he's looking down at her, able to see her from another angle..yet not able to really see her at all. "I don't care what other people think," is his immediate reaction. But then..why all the fuss? Wesley realizes that his words don't make sense. "I, uh, what I mean is..." Give him a few minutes to think. Give him a few years to gain self-knowledge. Then maybe he'll be able to tell Melissa that deep inside him he's unsure of how to deal with their deepening friendship, he has problems dealing with affection, how he's tired of living in society yet barely knowing how it works, that he hasn't tried for a Badge yet because that might set him on a path of failure that made his father into a drinker, and that he just doesn't know what to do about his mother. But for now, Wesley is just a little boy trying frantically to say something. Anything. Deep breath. "Melissa...I'm going to try and start again. I'm glad you're my..my friend. I'm grateful. And I...only hope that when I'm seventeen, I can still call you my friend. ...Or maybe not that long, because that's, uh, a long time, but around..seventeen..." he trails off, grinding a shoe into the gravel. He still hasn't looked at her.

Melissa closes her eyes. Her hands remain in motion, rubbing here, scritching there, petting everywhere. She remains in her squatting position. It's almost as if she and Wesley are having a conversation about flowers, about rainbows, about baby Oddishes and baby Pikachus and were you a cute baby? But no - it's so funny. Melissa looks like she's in pain. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her face scrunched up as though she was sliced across the stomach and she's bleeding all over the floor. But the rest of her body automatically, mechanically, involuntarily continues on its routine. CrystalFire is entirely ignorant. "Wesley," Melissa manages at last, her voice now shaky and croaking. "I'll al... always... ... always be your best friend, for ever and ever." She lifts her right hand off of the Growlithe and brings it up to her face. She removes her glasses before she leans forward, placing her head face-down on CrystalFire's muzzle and lifting her hands up to grip the back of the puppy's neck - not enough to harm the pokemon, but enough to keep her balance. Her hair falls over the sides of her face, but it doesn't take much to tell that she's crying. The canine pokemon blinks at her trainer's actions, which catch her off guard, but she almost immediately starts to growl, <Don't cry... Don't cry. Don't be sad. I don't like it... you... shouldn't be sad.> There's a reason Melissa's clinging to the Growlithe - maybe it's because she sees some kind of innocent naivety in both the young boy and the puppy. ... How ironic it is that he gave her to Melissa...

A chilly wind blows from the west, driving dark clouds before it and blotting out the stars in patches overhead. The air is clear and elsewhere they glitter brightly in the dark sapphire sky.

For ever and ever. That's not a measureable unit of time. And for ever and ever will end, some day, when they both grow old and die. Die like Fistfight will sometime. Wesley's head is empty except for a small breeze of thoughts which are mostly along these lines. Then it slowly dawns on the boy that Melissa is crying. When was the last time she cried? ...When she lost the tournament, comes the answer. There was a time before that, wasn't there? Yes. When she was pushed into the alleyway. Those two memories and a few associated pictures from them show themselves dully within the boy's brain; now his body is where the action is. There seems to be this stabbing pain right by his heart, and a heavy block of cement has taken up residence in his stomach. Wesley stands uncertain - when isn't he? - of what to think or feel. Fistfight has to take over, as usual. She steps towards Melissa...but, no, for once, Wesley is faster. His reflexes have developed! The Brier boy steps forward and squats down, reaching out a hand. He'll try to touch Melissa. Just the lightest of touches, three fingers resting on her shoulder. He doesn't have his pokemon around to help him be brave and lead him in a group hug. This is a pure Wesley-powered act. It's taking so much of his courage that he doesn't even speak - he just gazes at her, worry and apology battling for control of his face.

Poor CrystalFire is at a loss here. Her trainer, who was last smiling at her and scritching her when the dog was last fully conscious, is now crying into her fur, despite the fact that Wesley doesn't seem to have hurt her physically - and even the young pup realizes that he didn't seem to have said anything bad, although her youth blurs the line that makes emotional pain. And Melissa continues cring. CrystalFire continues comforting. And Wesley... Wesley is himself. Unpredictable. The boy touches her shoulder. Almost at once, the sobbing stops. Melissa's arms go limp and fall to the sides. And then - and then, slowly, gradually, Melissa's head rides. She looks different without her glasses. A little younger, not quite so nerdy, maybe almost a little beautiful if not for her rugged hair and red, tear-filled eyes. "Wesley..." she squeaks, reaching her left hand up to clutch Wesley's wrist (with surprising strength, too). Should she succeed, she'll proceed to practically yank him forward and embrace him, awkward as it may be with her on her knees. Who would have thought that such joy begat such pain?

October means Kats come out to 'play', save the data! Right away! (Saving)

Fistfight, in contrast to the young CrystalFire, is quite aware of what's happened. Some details are a little hazy - after all, she's no psychic and doesn't know why Melissa is doing the things she does, and even Wesley's actions are just a bit odd to her. It's a humbling reminder that she doesn't know everything about her young charge...and she predicts he'll change a lot more as the years go by. Fistfight takes another step forward before shaking her head resolutely. She's not going to interfere now that Wesley is taking steps on his own. Spike and Cartwheel don't look like they're going to either; Spike is telling a garbled knock-knock joke to Cartwheel, who listens to his pal.

Melissa is lost in the hug.

Wesley, too, is lost. He's read books with romantic themes before - there were more grown up books in the Brier house than children's ones, books about lawyers and cops and mobsters. But, while he would never *gasp!* skip a section of a book, he always found those parts boring. He couldn't relate to them. And he can't now...simply because he's not thinking of them now. Wesley is focused totally on, ironically, both Melissa and himself. He focuses on Melissa because she's close to him. He can feel the warmth of her, hear her breath and he manages to catch her barely audible words. He focuses on his emotions. Wesley is swimming in these strange sensations of touch, light-headedness as emotions (love, yearning, friendship, why did mom have to leave? I'm cared for, loved...) whirl and dance like fairies, warmth of Melissa (...she's a girl..why's he thinking of that again?), the tickling of her hair (she should get it cut, maybe?), the coolness of the night breeze against his skin and just...He can't describe it. Love is too romantic. Friendship is too casual. Sibling is too informal. Wesley tries but he can't compartmentalize his thoughts-that-aren't-thoughts, and emotions that bleed together. "I..." he murmurs, shivering. And now he too starts sniffling. As Melissa's hug deepens, he holds her closer accordingly. "I...Mel..Melissa..." He can't think of any words. Does it even matter?

There's nothing wrong. Everything in the world is perfect, and good, and just, and fair. Wesley is her best friend. She is Wesley's best friend. Maybe more than best friends, no, definitely more. He is eleven years olds. She is seventeen. These mean nothing. They are hugging. Everything is perfect. This will never end. He is eleven. Her heart is pounding. He is sniffling. He's eleven. He's holding her tight. Eleven. Eleven.

Wesley can't count the seconds, days, minutes of the hug. He simply..no, not relaxes, that implies comfort and Wesley is anything but comfortable now as he shivers away in Melissa's arms. In older times the word used for insanity was ecstasy and perhaps with his spiraling and conflicting feeling lashing through him, this is as close a word as can be found to describe what the boy goes through. He's hugging his best friend, his only friend, something he never thought he'd ever have -- she's a girl, and nice to him! knees are hurting...and he has a mother that will love him just as much as she does but in a different way..or will she? And Melissa? What does she feel? Should he ask, can he talk, what would he say, why can't he think of words, should he be thinking of words, why words what good are they when they make Melissa cry and hugs make her stop -- she's a girl, a warm girl..are all girls this soft? Or is this fantastic warmth something that applies, not to lesser members of her gender, but only to Melissa herself? It has to be, she's (a girl) Melissa...!