Living with Paul was like sharing space with a storm that never cleared. His silence wasn't peaceful — it was sharp and suffocating, every word or movement weighed with tension. Still, I tried. I wanted to break through whatever wall he'd built around himself.

The mornings were the worst. One particular day, I woke to the smell of burnt toast and stale coffee. Paul was in the kitchen, back turned, jaw tight.

"Morning," I said cautiously.

No response.

I sat at the table, watching. The quiet stretched long and heavy.

"I don't get why you're so pissed all the time," I said, voice low.

Paul turned slowly, eyes cold but steady. "Because you never stop talking."

"Is that what this is about?" I snapped. "I try to talk, and you say shut up. Then you say I don't talk enough."

"Maybe if you kept your mouth shut more, I wouldn't be so pissed," he muttered.

I clenched my fists but didn't respond.

Later, scrolling on my dex, Paul came up behind me.

"You know," he said, voice low, "maybe if you weren't so obvious about your bullshit, people would stop asking questions."

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked, heart pounding.

He smirked. "It means you're queer. It's obvious. You don't even try to hide it."

I swallowed hard. "I'm not hiding anything."

"Sure you're not," he sneered. "That's why you parade around like you own the place, acting better than everyone else."

I felt something snap inside me.

I don't know what came over me when I decided to call Paul out on his bullshit. Whatever it was certainly wasn't any force I was used to. He made some rude comments, again... as he often did.

And that's where this all started.

"Are you fucking done?" I snapped. "Why the hell do you even care?"

"I don't," Paul spat, heading for the door. "Fuck you."

The door slammed hard enough to shake the walls. The apartment fell silent. Not the kind of relief I wanted, but the kind you get before a storm crashes.

I sat on the edge of my bed, heart racing.

This fight could have been avoided if I'd just moused down and shut up like I always did. But today, I was done tolerating his jabs.

Minutes later, the door opened again.

Paul stood there, hands in pockets, face unreadable.

"You wanna finish this?" he asked, voice low.

I nodded, no words.

"You don't get to tell me who I am or what I want," I said quietly. "And you sure as hell don't get to treat me like I'm less."

His eyes darkened. "I treat you like you're deluded."

I laughed bitterly. "Deluded? How?"

"Yeah. You're deluded if you think anyone's gonna take you seriously with the way you parade around."

"Think I'm a joke?"

"Maybe I do," he admitted. "Because you're not normal, Ash. And you never will be."

That hit hard.

"Fuck you, Paul," I said, stepping closer. "You don't get to say that. You're a homophobic asshole, and I'm done letting you talk to me like that."

Paul's jaw tightened. "You think this is about homophobia?"

"Yes. Every time you make those little comments about who I'm attracted to, it's homophobic. You don't get to hide behind 'honesty' when you're just being cruel."

He stared at me, fire flickering in his eyes.

"Fine," he said, voice low. "Maybe I'm an asshole. But maybe I'm also the only one around here who's honest."

I shook my head. "Honesty doesn't give you the right to hurt people."

Paul smiled bitterly. "Maybe that's the difference between us. You think feelings matter more than the truth."

I stepped back, chest heaving. "Yeah, Paul. I do."

He looked at me for a long moment, then turned away.

"Don't expect me to change," he said over his shoulder.

The door shut softly behind him.

For days after, the silence between us hung heavy but different. Not the sharp edges before, but something cautious. I woke up early one morning and made coffee for us both. Paul was surprised but didn't say no.

In the kitchen, working side by side, we spoke more than usual. I caught a rare smirk when I accidentally spilled some sauce. It was a small moment, but it felt like a crack in his wall.

Still, his comments lingered in my mind, poisoning every quiet moment.

One evening, I found him scrolling on his dex, distant.

"I don't get it, Paul," I said. "Why do you say those things?"

He didn't look up. "Because it's the truth."

"No, it's just your fear talking," I said. "You're scared of what you don't understand."

His eyes finally met mine. "Maybe I'm scared of you."

I blinked. "Me?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. Because you're different. Because I don't know how to deal with that."

That was the first time he'd ever admitted anything close to feelings.

I reached out and lightly touched his arm.

"That's okay," I said. "You don't have to figure it all out right now."

For the first time, I saw a glimpse of Paul beneath the armor — vulnerable, confused, human.

But old habits die hard.

A few days later, after a small disagreement, Paul slipped again.

"You're such a fucking freak," he said coldly.

I froze, the words cutting deep.

"Paul," I said softly. "Why do you keep doing this?"

He looked away, his voice quieter. "Because it's easier than facing it."

I stood up, walking over to him.

"We're both struggling," I said. "But if you keep tearing me down, we'll both lose."

He looked up, eyes dark but searching.

"I don't want to lose this," I added.

Slowly, he reached out and squeezed my hand.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't fixed.

But it was a start.

Paul had this bad habit of letting his mouth get ahead of him, saying things he probably didn't fully mean. But the damage was done regardless. Today, I had just enough strength to push back. There were only so many jabs I could take before something inside me broke.

Paul was oddly fixated on certain things about me. Namely, whom I chose to date. I never thought I'd actually say anything to him about it, but I did. All because my mom called earlier — about my ex. Apparently, he was trying to get a hold of me. So now, Paul was gone, and it was just me and my mom on webcam.

"Gary's been trying to call you... And you won't pick up."

"Well, Mom... what do you want me to do?"

"Honey, please. Just try again. I'm sure you two could work things out. Gary really likes you! You were so happy... what happened?"

My mom held a hand to her face, giving me those prying brown eyes of hers. I inwardly groaned because I didn't see any use in this conversation. I didn't want to discuss Gary. Yet, she never seemed to understand that.

"He and I don't work anymore. I'm serious. We tried so many times."

"I know Gary's a strong-willed young man... but sometimes so are you. Like right now!" Mom criticized gently. "Don't hold that against him. You're being so stubborn."

I raked my hair back with annoyance and took a deep breath through my nose. My mother meant well... sort of. She didn't know just how bad things had gotten. She didn't know at all. She only saw what she wanted to see.

"It's not that, Mom. Can we drop it?" I pleaded. "It's complicated and I really can't get into it."

"Ash. I'm your mother."

"Mom..."

She sighed, giving me that signature "Are you hiding something?" look.

"Is there another man?" She stared at me long and hard.

"WHAT?" I yelped because the accusation was uncalled for. "Mom! Come on!"

My mom giggled and waved her hand like it hadn't been a serious question.

"Oh, honey, I'm teasing," she assured me.

The door to my room opened just then.

"Although..." Mom trailed off mischievously. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were holding out for that guy you're rooming with at that Poké Center! He's a looker."

"Such flattery." A monotone voice piped in.

"And what do I owe it?" Paul sauntered in, downturned lips and cold coal eyes as usual, his air of indifference thicker than ever.

I couldn't believe he was back so soon. Then again, he was home a lot more these days. I could only assume that he'd lost his job or something. Probably for being an asshole, if my hunch is right.

"Paul! I was just telling Ash that his ex may have some competition," my mom chimed in, laughing to herself at the thought. "Poor Gary! I should tell him."

I balked in horror.

"MOM!"

"Oh, hush. You're all bent over nothing again. You'll never change," she sighed. "Well, I'll be going. Bye, sweetheart! I'll tell Gary to call you!"

Mom closed the conversation before I could even reply and tell her not to have Gary call me. He had just recently stopped blowing up my phone. The silence was nice while it lasted. I shut my laptop in absolute mortification. Paul scoffed.

"Gary, huh?" Paul drawled.

I never actually told Paul my ex's name. Now he knew. Thanks, Mom.

"Yeah... he's my ex. He won't leave me alone."

"He sounds desperate. Has to be to have dated you," Paul insulted me. "You're better off without him. Desperate people are pathetic."

He breezed by and casually sat himself down on the bed. Eyes down on his dex, he scrolled through some entries as if he hadn't just burned me deeply.

"So, what?" Paul didn't bother looking up. "You two broke up 'cause you wouldn't put out or something?"

While that was inaccurate to begin with, it was also the farthest thing away from the root of the problem. Glaring at Paul, I shut my laptop and set it aside. He didn't even notice because he still hadn't looked up. This asshole didn't care about anything but himself.

"You're such a dick, dude."

Paul shrugged as if my insult meant nothing at all. His cold front didn't budge.

"You clearly don't seem to have an issue with dicks," he retorted, boredom evident in his voice. "One more won't hurt. You're used to it. Clearly."

"Honestly? Fuck you." I snapped. "I don't know what your problem is, but you don't have to talk to me like that all the time. You're such a jerk."

"And you're queer," Paul countered as if this were a game of stating the obvious. "I always knew. It's obvious."

"How the fuck is it obvious?"

In his uncaring way, Paul brushed me off like he didn't even want to be part of this conversation anymore. It struck a nerve in me.

"Whatever," I said. "Takes one to know one, Paul."

That caught Paul's selective attention. Quickly at that. Finally, he met my eyes. He scowled.

"Yeah, you think I'm such a dumbass. You're giving yourself away."

Paul snapped his dex shut. He gave me a warning stare. Slowly, he pointed a finger in my face. The look in his dark eyes was venomous.

"You need to shut the fuck up." He threatened as if he were giving me only one chance to back down. "Right now."

"What? I hit a nerve?" I pushed some more. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"I said shut it!"

"Or what?"

My dex started ringing. I answered it mainly because I really didn't care what Paul had to say right now.

"Hello?"

"Well, how nice of you to finally answer, Ash."

"Shit... What do you want, Gary?"

I'd made a crucial error by not checking the caller ID before picking up. In my defense, I wasn't expecting a call from Gary so soon. Mom must've called him as soon as she hung up on me.

A different type of aggravation consumed me. I clearly didn't want to have this conversation. It was all over my face.

"Just hang up," Paul commented.

I ignored him.

"You're wasting your time with him," he said this time.

I was already aggravated, and Paul just rubbed salt in the wound by butting in.

"Excuse me, Gary. Give me a sec," I bluntly excused myself.

I gave Paul the bullshit look he often gave me.

"What's it to you if I talk to my ex?"

"Why bother?" He challenged. "He sounds like a fucking loser, anyway."

"Why don't you mind your own business?"

Paul's expression morphed to something dark. Had I not been pissed and pumping adrenaline, I would have cowered away from him.

Paul's expression morphed into something dark, the kind of look that would've made me shrink back if I weren't already boiling with adrenaline. He was standing there like a storm about to break.

On the other end of the line, Gary pressed, "Ash, who the fuck is that?"

"Paul," I said flatly, like that explained anything. "It's just Paul."

There was a pause. I could hear the weight behind Gary's next question, like it carried more than just curiosity.

"Is he your boyfriend, now?"

I scoffed under my breath. Of course, he'd ask that. Like, there weren't bigger things to worry about than who I was rooming with. Gary always had this way of zeroing in on the wrong shit.

"No, Paul isn't my boyfriend," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "He's a passive-aggressive homophobe who needs to take a fucking chill pill and come out of the closet." I jabbed the last part more at Paul than Gary. "Also, he's my roommate. Lucky me, right?"

Silence stretched. I could almost hear Paul's glare burning a hole in me through the room. Gary's scorn crept through the phone, thick enough to taste.

"...Is this a bad time? Should I call back?" Gary asked, sounding half-annoyed but mostly concerned. "I've been trying to get a hold of you. Just promise me you'll pick up later, and I'll let you go for now."

"No, you know what? I'll do you one better," I said, the words coming out before I could think. "Are you around?"

I left Paul to stew in the silence he created and went to see Gary. He didn't hide his irritation when I told him, flipping me off as I closed the door behind me. I gave him the same finger as I shoved my hat down low and stepped out.

Gary was waiting at a small plaza, leaning casually against a storefront in his usual black shirt and jeans. When he caught sight of me, his eyes lit up, those emerald orbs catching the afternoon sun just right. Normally, I wouldn't let that get to me, but today I wasn't feeling anything but exhausted.

"Now, there's a familiar face," Gary said with a smirk, pushing off the wall.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me all this time," he joked, voice easy but teasing.

I shrugged, looking away. "Well... I'm here. My roommate's being an asshole. Didn't want to stick around any longer than I had to."

He nodded toward the Pokémon Center down the street. "You staying there?"

I glanced back. "Yeah. That one."

"Well," Gary said, "I'm staying with one of my grandfather's colleagues. Their lab's nearby. Been doing some research on the reserve. It's huge."

I blinked, caught off guard. "When did you—?"

"Had you answered your phone months ago, I could've told you," he said with a grin.

His mention of Pokémon caught me, pulling a little curiosity out of my haze. "You wanna show me around?"

Gary smiled wider, a hint of victory in his eyes. "I thought you'd never ask."

The walk wasn't long, but the tension was thick. I could feel Gary's eyes on me, every so often falling back a step, then catching up, like he wanted to study every part of me.

"There it is," he said as we approached the lab.

Gary got us permission from the professor to explore the reserve together and even scored keys to a jeep so we could cover more ground.

"Can't see the good stuff on foot," he said with a wink.

We drove into dense woods, he pointing out Pokémon habitats. When we stopped at a huge lake, I asked, "Does anything live here?"

"Yeah, come on."

He kneeled by the water, splashing gently. Baby Poliwag surfaced, nudging his hand like confused kids.

"They're looking for food," he said. "I bring treats."

He gestured toward the jeep. "Go grab the brown bag in the back."

I rummaged around and found it. Gary poured pellets, and the Poliwag swarmed his hand. When the food was gone, all but one left, and that little guy squeaked sadly.

"Poor little guy. Here," I said, offering some treats.

The Poliwag stuffed its cheeks and disappeared underwater.

"So much for a thank you," I smiled.

Gary suddenly moved, crawling over me. I stumbled and fell back on the grass.

"I think you're cute," he chuckled, stealing a quick kiss.

"We're outside!" I pushed him away.

"We're in the woods," he reminded me, calm as ever.

"We're on the reserve! Don't they check on the Pokémon here?"

"The professor already did rounds. Staff finished hours ago. Nobody's coming back today."

His hands started wandering; I batted him off. "Stop. We broke up."

"Because of you, dumbass," he shot back. "Quit playing hard to get, and we can fix this."

His lips found mine. "I've missed you," he whispered.

He trapped me under him, invading my mouth with his tongue, his hand sliding under my shirt. He unbuckled my belt, going for the zipper.

"We need to stop," I said, guarding myself. "This'll stir everything up."

He ignored me, swatting my hand away. "You keep running away. Is there someone else? That guy you argued with?"

"Paul's not my boyfriend!" I snapped. "That's not the problem!"

I tried to wiggle free, but Gary held on.

"Then what's the problem?" he pressed. "Tell me. I don't see one."

"We can't—"

No use arguing. Gary always got his way.

"We can't—"

I didn't even finish before Gary took over. There was no point in arguing anymore; he always got his way, no matter how hard I fought it. Without hesitation, he shoved his hand down my pants, grabbing me like consent was irrelevant.

Shame flickered inside me, but I couldn't deny I was hard under his touch. He was stunning, and my body had been starved for contact. I melted the moment he slid down my torso, his mouth closing over me.

Gary's tongue flicked up the length of me, warm and slick, tracing my sensitive skin with deliberate care. His lips parted at the head, then slowly enveloped me in one smooth, practiced motion. The silky wetness of his mouth stole whatever resistance I had left, drawing me in like he always did.

He had this way of pulling me back through sex, making me feel something good below the waist so I could forget the rest. It was his fix for everything, a reckless, unhealthy band-aid. The exact reason I ended things with him.

I was trying to be better. Trying to make smarter choices. But Gary didn't care—otherwise, we wouldn't be here. Selfishness was his trademark, and I despised it.

His eager mouth silenced my bitter thoughts. I realized, with a sinking feeling, that all the drool was his way of lubricating me to fuck him. Summoning the last shred of willpower, I tried one more time to stop him.

But he ignored me. Instead, he took me deeper, swallowing me whole, and just like that, I gave in.

"How do you want to do this?" I finally surrendered. "Tell me."

With a triumphant grin like a Cheshire cat, he pulled away, eyes sparkling with satisfaction. He'd won again.

"Knew you'd see it my way," he teased.

He tugged me toward the jeep and pushed me into the back. With that cocky smirk, Gary crawled on top, peeling off his shirt. I helped him with his jeans, then he did the same for mine.

His hands were impatient, roaming my body as his tongue traced a trail up my chest, not gentle or worshipful, more like tasting something he claimed as his.

"You're on top," he commanded.

We switched, Gary lying back with his legs spread wide. I settled between them, catching his intense smolder. I hooked my arms under his legs and pulled him closer.

With nothing but spit to ease us, I tried to be careful. The cramped, less-than-ideal setting called for gentleness, but Gary had no patience for that.

"Just give it to me. Hurry up!" he demanded.

"Fine," I said.

One smooth thrust, and I was in.

"Ah—!" he gasped.

Even after the breakup, his entitlement never faded. He took what he wanted without hesitation or apology. It wasn't right, but damn if it didn't still turn me on sometimes.

I moved against him, knowing full well this would cost me later. It always did.

Gary's gasps and moans filled the jeep as I fucked him, the vehicle rocking with our movements. He squirmed at the hips, wincing slightly—no actual lube made it rough.

Normally, I would've eased up. Not now. He couldn't have his cake and eat it too. I ignored his clipped panting and pressed on, giving him exactly what he wanted.

"Shit, Ash—" he yelped when I hit him harder. "F-Fuck!"

I leaned back just out of reach, teasing him by staying just beyond his grasp. He clutched at nothing, eyes squeezed shut, cheeks flushed and slick with sweat.

"Fuck, that's tight," he gritted through clenched teeth.

He threw his head back, taking it without protest. Over and over, I slammed into him until I hit my limit. I focused on anything but his face, which would usually irritate him.

But he was too wrapped up in himself to notice I wasn't soaking in his presence.

We weren't done yet, but I was already dreading the sickness I knew would hit me later.

"Where am I cumming?" I asked, breathless. "I'm close. Tell me."

"On me," he said.

He arched his chest like some god caught in passion's throes, trembling beneath me.

"I'm right there—keep going! Come on! Right there!"

Gary squeezed his legs tight, his body tensing, bracing for release. A loud, breathy gasp escaped him as warm wetness splashed across his stomach.

I pulled out and stroked myself over him, adding to the mess.

Panting, Gary grabbed an old towel and wiped us clean.

"Here," he said, handing it over with little affection.

We locked eyes briefly—his glazed with afterglow but satisfied nonetheless. He smirked, and I looked away to clean up.

I wanted to be anywhere but here. I'd made a terrible mistake. Both of us knew it. I'd fallen into his trap again.

Gary settled on my chest, not for comfort, just to rest his head. I lay still, letting him use me as a pillow.

As we caught our breaths, my thoughts drifted to Paul. Our fight had driven me here. It wasn't his fault I'd made a dumb choice. For now, I was grateful for the silence after the storm, even if I knew it was temporary.

Gary leaned up to kiss me. I didn't try to meet him halfway.

He pulled away quickly. No point pretending.

He lay back down on my chest.

"That was great," he whispered. "I needed that."

Afterwards, we dressed quietly. Gary offered to continue the tour as if nothing had happened. I accepted, foggy and numb.

Night fell, and he drove me back before dark.

It was time to walk home.

Before I left, he pulled me in for a long, hard kiss.

"Don't go running off on me again," he warned. "I'll call you."

The walk back to the Pokémon Center was slow and silent. My mind buzzed, fogged with fading warmth.

I hoped the high would last until I got home.

Because I had no idea what I'd be walking into.

That lying bastard hasn't changed.

None at all.