Walking out of the research lab, I felt like I'd left a part of myself behind. My steps dragged, my fists clenched tight in my pockets. The setting sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets, making Hau'oli City glow with orange and gold hues, but the warmth in the sky didn't touch me.

Everything I said in there... everything I did.

What the hell was I thinking?

My chest felt tight. I wasn't just mad at Paul — I was furious with myself. Angry for losing control, for letting him get under my skin, and maybe... for caring too much. He could be such a prick, but that didn't excuse what I said.

Especially not that last part.

"You're ashamed because you're afraid of being seen."

I flinched just remembering it. Maybe it was true, but I had no right to throw that in his face.

And now? I couldn't take any of it back.

The plaza was quieter now, evening washing over the city. Vendors packed up their stalls while the scent of grilled meat and pineapple drifted in the air. Laughter, chatter, the clang of pans, and low music filled the air like a lullaby.

Normally I liked this time of day — calm, slow-paced. The way people lingered over food and warm drinks. But today? I felt like a ghost walking through it. Just passing by.

As I wandered past one particular stand, something caught my eye. A boy, maybe a few years younger than me, stood nervously by the counter, arms wrapped around himself like he was holding something broken together. He shifted from foot to foot, lips pressed in a thin line.

He looked like I felt.

The elderly vendor behind the counter — a short, round woman in a floral headwrap and a tunic patterned with comfey blossoms — handed him a small white box, tied neatly with a pink ribbon.

"Here you are, young man," she said kindly, "No need to look so crestfallen."

The boy looked up, eyes heavy and red-rimmed. "I dunno," he mumbled. "She's... she's really mad. Maybe I should've gotten her flowers."

"Flowers are for the eyes," she said with a wink. "Dessert is for the soul. No better way to say sorry."

He blinked, surprised by her certainty.

"If this doesn't work," she continued with a grin, "you come back tomorrow. I'll fix you up with some guava mochi and we'll talk it over."

A soft smile broke across his face. It wasn't much, but it was genuine. "Thanks, Ma'am."

"You won't be back tonight, anyhow," she chuckled, waving him off.

I watched him go — that little box clutched like a lifeline — and my heart ached. He looked like he had hope again.

And I hated that I envied him.

Paul flashed in my mind. His bitter glare, his voice heavy with resentment. I'd pushed him too hard, maybe.

He didn't ask for me to pry. Didn't ask to be "seen." Didn't want to be.

Still... I'd wanted to help.

And maybe, deep down, I'd wanted to be close to him.

Stupid.

"Yeah... let me just bring him cookies," I muttered under my breath, mocking myself. "Real smart, Ash."

I turned to walk past the stand, ignoring the twist in my gut.

But the vendor's gaze caught mine.

Her eyes — a striking shade of gray, like moonlight reflected on the ocean — met mine and didn't waver. I looked away immediately, then peeked back.

She was still watching me.

Crap.

I tried to pick up the pace, but her voice rang out across the plaza. "Hey! Sonny!"

I froze.

Of course I did. Because apparently freezing like a dumbass was my default reaction to confrontation now.

"Don't go running off on me like a field mouse now! Get over here. Tutu Mahina don't bite." She beckoned with a wrinkled hand. "I'd like a word with you. My bones aren't getting any younger!"

Tutu... Mahina?

Ugh. I was too tired to run and too awkward to be rude. So I dragged my feet to her stand like a prisoner to judgment.

She looked at me, head tilted, eyes sharp like she saw straight through me.

"So," she said, folding her arms, "you lookin' to apologize?"

"Uh... I— I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean to—"

"Not to me, you dunce." She waved a hand. "To your friend."

I blinked. "W-what?"

She ignored my confusion and turned to rummage through a cooler beneath her stall. "Let ol' Mahina fix you up something. Always helps to bring a peace offering."

"I don't really— I'm not—"

She pulled out two bento boxes and slid them across the counter. "Sticky rice, fresh sashimi, pea pods. Still warm."

Then she added a smaller box. "And coffee macarons. That boy of yours looks like a coffee type."

"Wait, how do you know he's—"

"I don't." She smiled. "But your eyes said everything. You were staring at that kid like you were watching your own mess from the outside. You've got guilt all over your aura, boy."

I stared at her, slack-jawed.

She patted my hand. "Take it. On the house. Come back tomorrow. Let me know how it went."

"I- I can pay—"

"No, you can't. You'll repay me by not being a coward." She winked. "And don't forget to refrigerate if he decides to sulk."

"...Okay."

I took the food and walked away in a daze, her voice chasing after me.

"I'll be waiting!"

Back at the Pokémon Center, I passed Nurse Joy humming as she polished Poké Balls. She smiled at me like she did to everyone, but for some reason, it hit a little differently tonight.

"Thanks for the help earlier," she said softly.

I just nodded and headed upstairs. My heart was pounding again. I wasn't sure if it was guilt, nerves, or something else entirely.

I paused outside our room. The lights were off. Maybe I got lucky and Paul wasn't in there.

But the balcony door was open — sheer curtains swaying in the night breeze. The faint smell of tobacco clung to the air.

Of course, he was still here.

Cigarette smoke and frustration were Paul's perfume.

I stepped inside quietly, trying not to rattle the bag or make noise. I just wanted to stash the food, shower, and avoid getting chewed out again.

Too late.

"Hey." His voice was low, bored, but not hostile.

He stood in the doorway to the balcony, cigarette between his fingers. His face was cast in shadow, but his eyes caught the streetlight's glow.

"You're back."

"Yeah," I replied awkwardly. "I, uh... picked up dinner."

He looked at the bento boxes on the table. "For us?"

"If you want."

A long pause. Then:

"Fine." He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray and stepped inside.

I clicked on the lamp. We sat side by side on the couch, barely a foot between us. It felt like miles.

He opened his box and quietly started eating. I did too.

It was quiet. Not bad, just... heavy.

Paul was broad-shouldered and sharp-elbowed. We kept bumping, but neither of us moved.

"This is decent," he muttered. "Good pick."

"Yeah," I said. "It's one of my favorites."

I saw him glance at me. Not long. Not meaningful. But still.

He finished first. I expected him to leave, but he didn't.

"You don't have to sit here—"

"Don't flatter yourself," he muttered. "I just don't feel like moving."

I finished mine and stood. "Anything you want to say?" I tried. A little hopeful, a little stupid.

He arched a brow. "Dessert would've been nice."

"Right."

I opened the mini fridge, pulled out the macarons, and handed them to him. "Coffee flavored."

His fingers brushed mine when he took them. Warm. Calloused. Unexpectedly gentle.

"Look, um... I'm sorry," I said. "About earlier."

He looked at me. Silent.

"I crossed a line. It wasn't my place. I made assumptions, and... I won't do it again."

Still nothing.

"I don't hate you, okay?" I added. "You're kind of my friend, I guess. I just... I don't know. I wanted to help."

His gaze was sharp and unreadable. I was scared I'd pissed him off again.

Then, without warning, Paul grabbed me by the collar and yanked me forward.

I gasped, bracing for a punch.

But he kissed me.

Firm. Sudden. Unapologetic.

Every nerve in my body lit up like a Thunderbolt had gone off in my chest.

When he pulled away, his expression was unreadable. "There. Now we're even."

I blinked. Heart racing. Voice gone.

"...You're such an asshole."

Paul smirked.

"Yeah. I know."

I sat there for a long moment, stunned and stuck in place like my limbs had gone numb. My chest rose and fell with uneven breaths while my thoughts screamed over each other in chaos.

Then my dex pinged again—another call. Gary.

I stared at the screen until it timed out, went dark, and lit up again with a message notification.

[Gary]: You just hang up on me??
[Gary]: Seriously?
[Gary]: What the hell, Ash?
[Gary]: We need to talk. Call me back.

I dropped the dex in my lap and rubbed the side of my face hard, trying to scrub off everything I was feeling: the guilt, the confusion, the secondhand anger from Paul, and the frustration Gary stirred up in me without even trying.

What the hell was I doing?

Somehow I'd managed to disappoint both of them in under five minutes—and I wasn't even trying. I had no idea how to fix any of it. Hell, I didn't even know where to start.

The icepack Paul left behind had begun to sweat, dripping onto my knee. I shoved it to the floor and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes.

I needed a reset. Just one second to catch my breath.

But peace wasn't coming anytime soon.

The door creaked open again.

I froze, expecting Paul to come storming back in for round two—maybe to yell some more, maybe to apologize, maybe to throw more objects at me.

But it wasn't Paul.

It was Nurse Joy.

Her bright pink hair was tied back tightly, and her polite smile froze halfway into the room as soon as she laid eyes on me, looking like I'd barely survived a hurricane.

"Everything alright in here?" she asked, eyes narrowing with concern as they darted between the tossed icepack, the dented couch cushion, and—finally—me.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah. Just... an accident. Nothing serious."

She didn't look convinced.

"I thought I heard shouting."

"Just—roommate stuff." I faked a smile. "You know how it is."

She gave a nod that said I don't, actually, but chose not to press. "Well, I have an extra compress if you change your mind about that bump." She placed it on the table and gave me a pointed look before backing out of the room.

When she was gone, I sagged back into the couch.

My dex buzzed again.

I couldn't ignore it anymore. I owed Gary an explanation—or at least some damage control.

I swiped to call him back. It rang once. Twice. Three times.

Then he picked up.

"About time," Gary snapped.

"I didn't hang up on you," I said quickly. "Paul grabbed the phone and—look, it wasn't me."

"Sure sounded like you didn't want to talk."

"I did. I do. I just... things got out of hand. Can we not start this with accusations?"

There was silence on the line. Then a quieter, more grounded version of Gary: "You okay?"

That caught me off guard.

"Yeah," I said after a beat. "I guess."

"That sounded like a lie."

I chuckled bitterly. "Welcome to my life."

Another silence stretched across the call. This time, it felt weighty. Gary wasn't rushing to fill it—and I didn't know how to.

Finally, he sighed. "I wasn't trying to start a fight. I really did want to talk."

"About the reserve?" I prompted.

"Yeah. I... Look, I want you to come back. There's something going on I think you should see for yourself."

"'Come back'?" I repeated. "You know what that sounds like, right?"

"I'm not talking about us," he said, but he didn't sound sure. "This is work stuff. Serious."

That only made me more skeptical. Gary never knew how to separate business and pleasure. And with him, everything always came back around to one thing: control.

"I'll think about it," I said, unsure if I meant it.

"Just don't take too long. You need to see this before it gets out of hand."

Another cryptic Gary-ism.

Before I could ask what this was, he ended the call.

I stared at the screen for a while, then dropped it face down.

Paul was gone. Gary was pulling me back in.

And I was stuck somewhere in the middle—torn between someone who pushed me too hard and someone who never took no for an answer.

If I weren't careful, I'd be back in the same mess I was trying to crawl out of.

In a surprising twist of events, Gary wasn't mad at me. It almost felt too good to be true. His temper was nothing compared to Paul's... but he had his moments.

Gary was more snarky than anything else, honestly. He held grudges and he held them forever. Cross him and that grudge would wedge itself up your ass and bite you until the end of time.

For now, I was in the clear. Gary invited me back to the reserve. They were going to be short-staffed because someone caught a stomach bug or something. So, an extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt.

Waking up early did, though.

"Chimchar!!"

I woke up that morning to a Pokémon cry. I blinked groggily. Paul's Chimchar was up on my bed, bouncing anxiously like something was wrong. My head moved with his jumps.

Becoming aware of my surroundings, I realized my alarm was going off. I hadn't even heard it until now. I yawned and turned off the alarm that apparently was bothering Chimchar. It was only eight in the morning.

"Morning, Chimchar. What are you doing over here?"

Chimchar pointed with wide eyes toward where Paul was sleeping in the bed a couple of feet away from mine. Even in his sleep, Paul scowled.

Chimchar held a finger to his mouth, signaling me not to disturb him. As if I didn't know not to bother Paul while he was awake, let alone while he was sleeping. The poor Pokémon was so scared he popped out of his Poké Ball to wake me up.

I got up and let him get comfortable in my bed. Chimchar lay down in my warm spot while I shuffled off to the little bathroom. I brushed my teeth to start the day.

Something hit the floor in the room. I paused when I heard it. Then there was scampering. Chimchar must've jumped off my bed. It sounded so... hurried. I didn't think much of it. He was energetic and silly, not that Paul cared for that.

Cupping water in my hands, I splashed my face, trying to wake up more. It was too early for my liking. Being up before Paul was crazy for me—I always slept in. Drying my face, I internally groaned.

Fucking Gary. I was awake for him.

Rubbing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself to get ready. I finally mustered up the motivation and opened the bathroom door.

I jumped back with a scream.

"Well, good fucking morning to you, too."

Paul was up.

For such a tall dude, he was quiet on his feet... unless he was mad. Paul stepped aside for me to walk out. He disappeared into the bathroom without another word. I cringed as the door shut. This was certainly not the best way to start our day.

Chimchar was sitting on the floor between our beds. He looked up at me sadly, like he'd been scolded. Paul must have been why he darted off my bed so fast.

"Paul wake up on the wrong side of the bed again, Bud?" I empathized with him.

Chimchar nodded. I felt bad for him. His trainer was not a very nice person to others, and that carried over to how he treated his Pokémon too.

As I laid out some clothes for the day, Paul came out of the bathroom. He wasn't so light on his feet anymore. That was never a good sign. I avoided small talk.

I flinched when Paul suddenly spoke.

"Where are you running off to this early?" he asked. "Your ass is usually dead to the world at this hour."

His voice was still heavy from lack of sleep.

"You're not exactly the epitome of a morning person either, Paul."

"I asked you a question."

First thing in the morning and Paul was already on a steady climb to a bad mood.

"I'm just going to see Gary."

"You two a stupid thing again?" Paul scoffed.

"Gary's not stupid...and it's too soon to tell."

It was sort of a lie on my part. I knew what getting wrapped up with Gary usually meant.

"You're really going there?" He questioned, like I was a big dumb ass.

"Yup. I'll be back later."

I took the empty path up to the reserve with a bad feeling in my stomach. The voice in my head screamed at me to turn around. The feeling I had in my gut was just too familiar.

This felt like I was walking into a trap. I'd already fallen in so many times... today I was really hoping things were different. If not, I prayed for a lighter landing at the very least.

I hesitated to ring the doorbell. It was just a simple white button mounted to the building. But it felt dangerous because I didn't want to ring it.

"You're early."

Gary answered the door, smirking with some sort of satisfaction. "I'm surprised."

"Me too..."

Gary let me in and led me to the lab. I assumed we'd be outside today. Ultimately, it didn't matter either way. I'd help inside or outside. Gary scanned his key card and motioned for me to stay close behind him.

"So... what am I helping you with? What's this room for?"

I looked around, disappointed at the lack of Pokémon.

"This is the hatchery. We have incubators in here."

One had six eggs in it. The clipboard had different dates and temperatures noted on it. Gary picked it up and jotted something down.

"These are Eevee eggs. They should hatch any day now," he explained. "I'll come check on them again later."

Turns out that we were working outside today. Once Gary was done in the lab, he grabbed a sack of Pokémon food.

Feeding sounded like fun until I was faced with a Raticate.

"...Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Looking down at its not-so-friendly face, I hesitated to reach my hand out toward it. Its teeth were the longest I'd ever seen. The Pokémon eyed me with equal apprehension. There was a mean glint in its eyes.

The rest of the Raticate treated me just fine, eating when I set out their food. They were docile enough that I got to pet them. A few ate from my hand. This Raticate, however, wasn't social or well-mannered. It bared its teeth at me.

"He can smell fear, you know," Gary taunted. "Careful now. That one's a biter."

"And you're making me feed him because...?"

"It's fun watching you squirm."

Too nervous to tear my eyes off the Raticate, I spoke to Gary without looking at him.

"I hate you."

"You weren't saying that yesterday," Gary sounded so proud of himself. "Now feed Raticate, he's hungry. Isn't that right, Raticate? You're starving, huh?"

The Raticate glared at me as I crept forward and very slowly set the bowl of food down for him. Once it touched the grass, I stepped back immediately. The Raticate scarfed down the food before running away into some tall grass.

I glowered at Gary.

"Oh, relax, I was kidding about the biting. He's harmless."

With leisure, Gary collected empty dishes.

"I wouldn't actually put you in danger, you big doofus. That Raticate's just a big show-off."

"Still not funny."

He gave me a sidelong glance. His eyes twinkled mischievously.

"I'll make it up to ya later."

By the time we were finished, I was sweaty and winded. Summer was an awful season to work outside in. Thankfully, we could go inside now. Gary led me down some stairs to his room.

"I don't think I would have gotten all those Pokémon fed on time without your help."

"Don't mention it..."

I took my hat off and fanned myself.

"Are we doing anything else? Or was that it?"

"For now. I have to file the reports later. Doesn't matter when, so long as it gets done."

Gary plucked my hat and tossed it somewhere. It landed on his bed. Then his hands were on me. He pushed the hem of my shirt up a few inches.

"Woah, hey—"

"You look so warm, I'm just trying to help," Gary interrupted me.

He bit his bottom lip and popped my jeans open.

"Why don't we go freshen up together?"

My eyes drifted past Gary's shoulder to the bathroom door. I really wanted a shower... just a shower.

"How about we take turns?" I gently brushed him off me. "...alright?"

Gary pursed his lips with disappointment, but he took the polite rejection fine.

"You're no fun." He said. "Go ahead."

I slipped my sneakers off outside the bathroom and shut the door behind me. It popped open without warning when I was down to my briefs.

"Brought you a towel, Ashy boy," Gary chimed when he barged in. "Here you go."

He handed me a folded towel. I awkwardly took it, still a little startled. Gary wasn't fazed. He openly took in what he wanted and then noticed my dirty clothes on the floor.

"I can throw those in the wash for you." He offered. "Hand them over."

I gathered it all up for Gary, expecting him to leave. He didn't. I didn't know what he was waiting for. I shifted my eyes.

"What?"

"Underwear." Gary held his hand out expectantly. "If I'm washing your clothes then I'm washing everything."

"O-Oh... okay."

He'd already seen everything so I dropped my briefs and handed those over, too. Gary turned on his heels and left with all my clothes.

It was weird showering here. Not that there was anything wrong with the shower. It was easy to figure out and worked fine. But everything in here reminded me of Gary.

He bought the same products for years. This wasn't the first time I'd been in the position to use them... I didn't think I'd ever use any of this again. I felt stuck in time.

I shook off the deja vu and toweled off. Rolling it at my waist, I poked my head out of the bathroom. Gary was missing.

"I'll see you later, Professor Rowan. I'll have the paperwork done tonight," his voice came from somewhere outside the room just then.

Gary stepped in with a smile and eased the door shut behind him. With the knob still in his hand, he leaned back against it.

"Look who's nice and clean."

"..."

I reflexively looked over the room trying to spot my clothes before realizing...

"So, how long is the laundry gonna be?"

"I tossed your things in on a quick wash...but it'll be a little." Gary explained. "They have to dry after."

"Right..."

Gary raked his eyes down my chest. He lingered at my waist a moment. Then I heard the door lock.

"Just so nobody walks in on you naked." He winked. "Wouldn't want that."

Gary eased himself off the door. I readied myself to hold my towel, but he didn't grab it. He strolled past me to the bathroom. His fingers brushed my ribs as he passed, tickling the skin there.

"Get comfortable. I'll be back shortly."

My ex was not a stupid person by any means. He deliberately left me in his room, naked and trapped. His clothes were too small for me to wear, and we both knew it. I could just picture the smirk on his face as he closed the bathroom door behind himself, leaving me to pitter-patter in his room with nothing but a towel on.

The only scrap of clothes I had in here was my hat. I checked the bed for it and found it on Gary's desk now. I considered sitting there because the only other option was the bed... but the chair was wood and my towel was damp.

I knew Gary wanted me to sit on his bed. The voice in my head screamed at me to avoid that. I stood around for a bit, eventually settling myself to lean against the wall. Gary kept his promise and emerged from the bathroom about ten minutes later.

I wasn't in plain sight when he walked out. The bathroom door faced the bed.

"Hm? Ash?"

Gary leisurely scanned the room and found me against the wall. I wasn't as invisible as I would have liked to be. His green eyes twinkled in sadistic humor for a second.

"You look cold." He strolled by wearing a towel on his thin hips.

He pulled a drawer open and sifted through some underwear.

"I suppose standing around in a towel will do that to you..." He mused. "I mean you're practically naked."

I averted my eyes as he dropped his towel and stepped into his underwear, knowing the little hip-wiggle he was doing as he slid them on. Gary playfully curled the tip of his finger under my towel.

"Are you cold?" He asked, pseudo-sweetly. "You'd be warmer without this wet towel, you know. It's wet."

"I'd be warmer with my clothes, Gary."

He got that satisfied gleam in his eyes. It was almost malevolent.

"Your clothes aren't ready though..." He trailed off thoughtfully.

Nimble fingers slid up my body. Gary delicately rested them on my shoulders. He batted his green eyes flirtatiously and pressed his chest against mine.

"Your skin is so cold." He brought his mouth closer. "If only you had some clothes."

Gary unrolled my towel and let it fall at our feet. He kicked it away. Slowly, he backed me toward the bed. His fingers trailed down my stomach, lightly tracing the divots in my hips. It gave me shivers and my body reacted to him. I couldn't help it.

As Gary's hand went lower, he smirked into the kiss. He found something he liked and stroked it. Pumping me in his hand, Gary sensually licked around my mouth. I initially wasn't in the mood, but he just knew how to manipulate me.

I laid there letting him touch me as he pleased. I groaned as he wetly kissed me. As I began to kiss him back, he pulled away and slid down my body. It chapped my ass when he did that: pulling away from a kiss as I began to reciprocate it. He knew it too.

I glared at him and he just grinned cockily. Gary took me in his smug fucking mouth. He hadn't changed at all.

I sluggishly left the reserve late that afternoon. Everything ached. Gary worked the hell out of me. With my head low, I took my time down the path.

I knew this wouldn't be the last time Gary made me feel like shit. I'd see him again. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon because I stupidly let him get his foot in the door.

I sluggishly left the reserve late that afternoon. Everything ached. Gary worked the hell out of me. With my head low, I took my time down the path. I knew this wouldn't be the last time Gary made me feel like shit. I'd see him again. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon because I stupidly let him get his foot in the door.

The sun was still up in the sky, shining down on me as I scuffled down the dirt road. I could feel myself breaking a sweat already. I kicked up dust with my sneakers, shaking my head. I'd need another shower when I got home. As I made it to the plaza, it wouldn't be long now.

God willing, luck would be in my favor, and Paul would be out somewhere so I could have some peace. I didn't want to deal with anyone else today.

"Ey! Sonny!"

I inwardly jumped at the familiar voice and whipped my head so fast my neck hurt. Tutu Mahina spotted me sulking by.

"Ol' Tutu wants to have a word with ya! C'mere!"

Other nearby vendors looked on curiously at the old woman's sudden outburst. Maggie waved me over to her stand. I could've just kept walking if I really wanted to, but it felt rude given how generous she had been. Still, I hesitated.

"I know you can hear me!" Tutu beckoned me again, louder this time.

I inwardly sighed and made my way over, feeling like everyone was watching me. I kept my eyes down and trudged up to Maggie's counter. I had even less energy to deal with this today.

The senile old woman had been nice enough to give me the bento boxes and cookies, but she was hardly a comforting presence to me. She was eccentric, and something about her eyes was off-putting. That steely gray gaze looked like it could see right through me. I didn't like that at all, especially on a person who was clearly missing a few screws.

I reluctantly looked into her gray piercing eyes. They were actually rather caring.

"I take it your night went sour and your morning wasn't much better." Tutu put a hand on each hip. "How unfortunate."

She didn't wait for any confirmation and just kept talking.

"Listen, Boy. You're frazzled." She chided, shaking her head at me. "Your aura is polluted, too much stress. Too much stress."

"What are you talking about?"

I was stunned and fairly creeped out. Maggie squinted her eyes at me.

"Whatever lover you've got yourself is sucking you dry... in more ways than one, I see."

The older woman gave a hearty laugh. My stunned face must've been priceless.

"Seek not the gems that first shine the brightest, Child." She suddenly pointed a serious finger at me. "Remember that behind coal, there could be diamonds. Dig deep, Sonny. You gotta dig real deep."

I nodded politely to appease her.

"Right..."

"You'll see with your own eyes." She encouraged me. "Brush off the topsoil!"

"Uh, will do."

Tutu bid me goodbye with a wide, toothy smile and promised to see me again soon. Her gold-bangled wrist glittered in the sun. As far as I was concerned, I didn't care to see her again. Old Maggie was a little too old. Losing her damn mind, she was.

I turned away quickly, eager to get home and out of the public eye.

But her words stuck with me. Dig deep... It felt like a warning, or maybe a plea.

Paul wasn't the easiest person to figure out, and neither was Gary.

And here I was, caught somewhere in between, trying to hold myself together while the world kept pulling me under.

I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag and kept walking.

The day wasn't over yet.

I finally made it back to the Pokémon Center with my shirt clinging to me from the sweat and shame of the day. Every step reminded me of how sore I was—physically and emotionally. My legs hurt. My back ached. And... my dick was chafed raw beneath the fabric of my jeans.

It stung like hell. The friction made it worse, and it took everything in me not to wince with every stride up the stairs. I hated him. Gary. For what he did. For what I let him do. For how he made it seem like it meant something, then left me used and embarrassed.

But most of all, I hated myself—for being stupid enough to believe that somewhere in that smug bastard was a speck of decency.

Once in the room, I peeled off my sticky clothes and headed straight into the shower. The hot water stung my skin, but I needed it. I scrubbed until my skin was pink and raw, hoping it would erase everything—his touch, his voice, the memory of him holding me down and saying all the right things in the worst ways. I wasn't clean, though. Not really.

After drying off and pulling on a loose pair of boxers and a t-shirt, I collapsed into bed. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel. I just wanted to sink into darkness and not wake up until my body stopped hurting.

But peace wasn't on the agenda tonight.

I shot upright in bed, drenched in sweat, heart pounding and lungs tight. The scream ripped from my throat before I could even stop it.

"Paul!"

I clutched my chest and blinked wildly into the darkness, panting as my dream slowly came back to me in fragments. It wasn't Gary this time. It was Paul—standing above me, distant and angry, but his touch was almost... tender. I didn't understand it, and that only made it worse.

I looked over, and sure enough, Paul stood in the doorway to our shared room, frowning. He didn't look half as tired as I felt, but the raised brow on his face told me I'd woken him.

"You screamed my name," he said flatly.

I wiped sweat off my brow and looked away, cheeks burning. "Sorry... Bad dream."

He looked at me longer, then stepped in, closing the door behind him.

"You dreaming of me now?" he asked, voice tight with mockery—or maybe confusion.

"I—No, I didn't mean it like that. Just—something happened, okay?"

Paul's eyes lowered, and I realized a second too late I'd kicked off the sheets in my panic. The fabric of my boxers was embarrassingly damp. I yanked the covers back up, face burning.

His smirk deepened.

"You came in your sleep," he said, tone unreadable. "Over me?"

"Shut up!" I hissed, pulling the blanket tighter around myself and turning away.

But I could still feel his eyes on me. Judging. Curious. Maybe something else. I didn't want to look back and find out.

"Whatever," he muttered, heading back to his side of the room. "Just try not to moan my name next time. It's pathetic."

He laid back down like it didn't faze him, like he didn't care.

But I couldn't breathe.

And I couldn't stop wondering... Why him? Why now?

In my moment of weakness, Paul kissed me again.

It was gentle at first. His lips were on mine for a few moments. I was too dazed to push him away... or decide whether I wanted to push him away.

Paul had his fingers in my hair and pulled me in snugly to his body. Craning his neck down, he tilted my chin up. Then his tongue was in my mouth. I didn't kiss him back—I stiffened.

I assumed my unwillingness wouldn't have deterred him. I fully anticipated being handled roughly. Yet, as I stiffened in his hold, Paul released my mouth. He didn't let go of me, though.

"You still don't want this, do you?"

He stated the question more rhetorically than anything. My first instinct should have been to tell him he was right. But, while he held me, I found comfort in it. He was warm... It felt almost protective. I felt safe.

Then it dawned on me that I was safe. Paul had backed off.

He could have easily tossed me into bed without caring how I felt about it. After my dream, I couldn't exactly erase the possibility that Paul's aggression could potentially lead to much darker things. But he showed me I was in no danger.

I was dazed by the display of consideration. Paul... he had no clue what was actually going through my mind that moment, though. He assumed the worst.

"You really hate me, don't you?" he muttered with disappointment. "You're scared of me."

I waited for him to glare and shove me away... but it didn't happen. He averted his eyes and then gently began to let go in defeat. My chest hurt for reasons I didn't understand just then.

Paul was sincerely hurt at the thought of me fearing him... more so, he was hurt that I thought he'd harm me. He wasn't joyful, and he wasn't friendly... but he had feelings. I soon came to realize that fully. I threw my arms around Paul and held on. I didn't want his feelings to be hurt.

Whatever interest he had in me, it was sincere. He wasn't playing a game. Not any game I was used to. Paul was an asshole, but he wasn't heartless.

"...I'm sorry." I hugged him and wouldn't let go, face buried in his bare chest. "I... I don't hate you."

"You're scared of me, then."

I wouldn't look up to meet his gaze. All I could repeat to him was, "I'm sorry," before falling silent again. I was sorry. Sorry for assuming he was some violent monster.

"You're sorry?" he questioned.

I nodded into his chest.

He lifted my face off of him. As we met eyes, he hesitated. When I showed no fear, he dipped his lips down to catch mine again. I kissed him back.

Whether it was the heat of the moment or compassion, I didn't stop to analyze why I did it. I was relieved just as he was—but for a different reason. I wasn't a pawn in some narcissistic game like I often ended up being with Gary.

Kissing Paul, I almost forgot I was ever scared of him. Our embrace... it felt natural, like we'd done it before. Paul unhurriedly led me to his bed. I let him guide me over and sat down willingly. I subconsciously pulled at the hem of my shirt, feeling warm.

"You can take it off," Paul suggested, touching where I fidgeted. "If you want to. Up to you."

"...Um, yeah. I'll take it off."

The shirt came off after a brief moment of hesitation. Paul wasn't wearing a shirt—figured I may as well take mine off. As I began to pull the fabric up over my face, a pair of hands took over and helped me the rest of the way. I was face to face with Paul as he let my shirt land somewhere to be forgotten.

I was fixated on Paul's eyes, and he closed in on me. He paused within an inch of my face, his body curled down toward me. I closed the distance between us and felt a quiet satisfaction as Paul kissed me back. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I expected him to pull away—because someone else always did.

Gary's face flashed through my mind's eye just as Paul gently pushed me back to lay across the sheets. I was positioned with the pillows under my head, and Paul climbed up over me. His fingers stroked the spot I hit before.

I couldn't shake the sudden guilt that flooded my senses, feeling like I was doing something wrong. Like I was cheating on both Gary and Paul—when in truth, I was doing neither. I hadn't agreed to a relationship with Gary.

Paul was aware that Gary was a... variable. But still, there he was, on top of me. Too concerned with me as an individual human being to care about something so shallow. It made sense, really—Paul wasn't petty.

"I've wanted this for so long..." he said, kissing me before letting his hand drift lower.

When his fingers cupped me through my pajama bottoms, I winced and curled a knee up defensively. My erection was sore to the touch, which seemed to slip Paul's mind.

"O-Ow... uh, that hurts..."

I thwarted his wandering hand, and Paul took the deflection humbly.

"Ah, that's right..." he mumbled, bringing his mouth down to my ear. "Your boyfriend roughed you up down there."

"Gary's not my boyfriend," I corrected him, surprised at how calmly I said it.

How unnervingly confident I sounded.

"So, you're not his?"

"He's not mine."

Adjusting himself over me, Paul flipped me so I laid on my stomach. It surprised me and mildly knocked the wind out of me. Hot breath ghosted past my ear as Paul leaned in closely from behind, fingers curled in the waist of my pants.

"He seems like an asshole, anyway."

Oh, the irony.

"You're right," I whispered under my breath. "He is."

The tension in the room didn't lift even after we both fell quiet. My cheeks were hot, my throat dry. Paul didn't say anything else, just eventually turned around and walked back to his side of the room. I laid there, stunned and miserable in my sheets, heart thumping from the fallout of the nightmare—and the humiliation that followed it. I hated that he noticed. I hated even more that he wasn't wrong.

I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow, and squeezed my eyes shut. Sleep didn't come easy. I tossed and turned most of the night. My body still ached, my mind still reeling.

When I finally woke again, weak light was creeping through the blinds. The scent of the Pokémon Center's bland breakfast wafted from somewhere down the hall. My sheets were damp with sweat and something else I didn't want to acknowledge. I scrubbed my face with my hands and stared at the ceiling. My throat still felt raw from screaming Paul's name.

I pushed myself up slowly, ignoring the dull pain between my legs and the chafe still lingering from yesterday's mistakes. After dragging myself into the bathroom for another rinse-off, I dressed quickly and quietly. Paul wasn't in the room. His bed was made, not a wrinkle in the blanket.

I didn't know whether I was relieved or disappointed.

[Shift to Paul's POV]

The earlier sunrise hit my eyes harder than I expected, but I was already awake. I'd been awake for over an hour, honestly. That damn scream Ash let out had jolted me from half-sleep and left my nerves burning ever since.

My name.

Not a generic shout. Not a panic or gibberish. My name, like it was tattooed on the back of his throat. I sat on the bench just outside the Center, arms crossed as I leaned back against the wall. My Pokémon were still resting, and I didn't feel like eating. I didn't know what the hell to feel. Ash had been crying in his sleep. And whatever the hell kind of dream he had ended in a mess I couldn't unsee. I tried brushing it off. Joked. Teased. I even rolled my eyes like I always did. But when I turned back to him in the dark, with his face flushed and vulnerable, something clamped around my chest.

I hated that. I didn't know what to do with that.

The idiot probably thought I was mocking him—he didn't even try to deny what I saw. Just curled up like a kicked Growlithe and stopped talking. Why the hell do you care? I kept asking myself. Why the hell does it matter what happens to him? But then I remembered how broken he sounded when he whimpered my name. How he looked when he returned from that "training session" with Gary—limping, drained, like something had been wrung out of him.

I knew that look. I'd seen it in mirrors after Brandon had torn me down to pieces.

Something about it pissed me off.

I wasn't mad at Ash.

I was mad that someone else beat me to it.

And I hated how much that bothered me.