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Two weeks before Halloween Moon had decided to plan an outing centered around the holiday. Of course, she wanted to bring some of her favorite people along: Big Bad Guzma and his first Admin. Although she was certain it'd be fun either way, things would be much more interesting with them along.
Moon had really wanted Gladion to come too, but when she'd asked Guzma about the boys recent disappearance, he'd only sneered and said he was ‘out with his little trial goer boyfriend’. It was hard enough getting these two to tag along, so there was really no time to go hunting him down.
Next year she'd plan ahead. After all, Gladion always seemed to disappear near holidays. He never wanted to hang out with his Team Skull pals at all!
Regardless of the absence of Gladion, she'd found the perfect way to spend the day, and then planned out how to convince the two. She thought her best bet with Plumeria was to try and emphasize it as girl time, although even that was a long shot. Maybe she'd have to bribe her with money or nice makeup? She wasn't really sure what would get Plumeria to have some holiday cheer, but she’d figure it out if it killed her. That, of course, left Moon also with the task of winning over Guzma. When she'd planned everything, she hadn't been too worried about it.
It was with tremendous persistence, bargaining, and whining that Moon convinced Guzma and Plumeria to go along with this.
“Hey Guzma!” Moon greeted, waltzing right into his room to find him perched on his makeshift throne, glare set towards the gleaming chest of Bugnium Z. Oddly, several broken bottles were scattered around the shiny display.
Moon had come in uninvited, of course, all cheer and pep to her step. She hadn't yet seemed to pick up on his mood, perhaps because his expression was downturned more often than not.
“What.” His eyes hadn't yet left the overflowing chest.
“Do you wanna come to this super cool Halloween festival with me and Plumeria? It'll be really exciting, and I bet you'll even have a good time too!”
He snorted, finally looking at her. “Halloween festival? That junk sounds like it's for babies, the fuck makes you think I wanna go?”
“Well, I at least thought you'd like scaring the kids there.” She tried jokingly, grinning at him.
He continued to stare at her, mild irritation marring his features. The atmosphere was becoming awkward quickly.
“Well, there'll be haunted mazes, and jumpy houses, and bobbing for apples, and a Pumpkaboo Patch and a bonfire at sunset—probably with ghost stories. Oh, and spooooky face painting!” She narrated animatedly, her hands moving as she spoke.
“Listen up Shortstack,” He leaned in towards her from his spot upon his throne, raising an eyebrow in expectation.
“Uh huh,” She nodded vigorously, confirming her fixed attention. The anticipation built as she stood with bated breath, waiting for what he would say next.
Anti-climatic as ever, he settled back into his seat again, frown deepening. “I don't give a shit.”
“Aw, no way!” She wailed.
“Did ya hear me or not?”
“I mean, are you sure? I just don't get how anyone could say no to this. It's a whole day filled with fun!”
“Get out of here.”
She persisted on for little over a week, pestering him at every possible moment that presented itself, until she'd finally realized the obvious solution. She'd been saying all of the things she was most excited about, yet she hadn't mentioned the things she was certain he'd like.
“There's nothin’ that's gonna make me want to go to your damn festival, so lay off.”
He'd been out by the pool, constant rain dampening his clothes. It appeared as if he was playing a game of ‘kick the can’ by himself when she arrived. Why he didn't just make some of his grunts play with him, she wasn't sure. It was kind of a hard game to play solo, after all.
“Oh? Okay then.” She shrugged, turning as if to leave.
“Huh?” He said stupidly.
“Well I mean there's a whole lotta food booths, with all sorts of fried food and barbecue and even tapu cocoa. Annnnd there's one of those hammer games where you can show off how strong you are. But I guess Big Bad Guzma just doesn't like any of that stuff, huh?”
Moon was silently grateful that she had turned around for her little act, seeing as how she could hardly keep her smile from her voice, let alone her face. It was quiet for a long time, save for the sound of the can rolling along the floor, untouched.
“I'll go. But only if you pay for everything I decide to eat, got it?”
She jumped up and down in place, whirling around to beam at him.
“You've got yourself a deal, Mr. Team Skull Boss!”
He nodded in agreement, a glint of a smile in his eyes that stubbornly didn't reach his lips. “Aright. Now, shoo, get outta here.”
“Whaaaaaat? You can't play kick the can all alone!”
“I can and I will. Now scram!”
“Was the pun intended?”
“Go away before I kick you instead!”
When she met with Plumeria later that day to continue trying to convince her as well, she was pleased to hear Guzma wasn't the only one to have been convinced.
“Plum is finally not a no go?” She gasped.
Plumeria nodded, smiling and yet still looking mildly annoyed somehow . “Yeah, if you actually got the President to show I guess I will too.”
“Really? Why is that so important?”
“Someone's gotta keep him in check. And besides…it might be fun. Hanging out with you two.”
Moon was practically beaming up at her, happy as she was. Which made Plumeria scowl, becoming flustered as she quickly tried explaining herself.
“That's not what I meant. I’ll probably have to stop you from trying anything crazy too, knowing you. It's like I signed up for a babysitting session and I'm not even charging any money. Hey, are you even listening?!”
“Mmmhm. You're a good friend of mine too, Plum!~” Moon sang in an all too knowing voice.
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A little part of him thought that maybe if he willed it, he'd somehow manage to sleep through this entire day. Sure, Moon would be disappointed, but it was much better than him going to some festival with her. That same small part of him knew exactly why the idea of attending bothered him so much.
Going through a ‘haunted maze’ with her? She'd probably be the one wanting to go in in the first place, excited and fearless, but be the first to be wary at the jump scares as well. He could imagine sliding an arm around her, or holding her hand, laughing at her wariness despite his own. He could imagine the way her face would light up when she and Plumeria would go running through the pumpkaboo patch. Or the way she'd lean in a little around the bonfire to hear a ghost story, completely engrossed. Or how she would tug his hand, laughing that beautiful laugh, damn her, as she lead him towards the face painting stand. No matter his protests, he knew that little voice in his mind would let her pick something to have painted on him.
There was, of course, a more dominant voice in his mind. One that would berate him in self loathing when he failed at even the slightest of tasks as much as it would try and soothe him into mostly believing that he was actually as big and bad as he made himself out to be. It heard that small, hopeful voice, and told it to shut the hell up.
He'd go, but only because Moon had presented reasons that were simpler, that made more sense. Guzma would never admit that the second she'd presented the idea, he'd wanted to go with her, the little voice imaging all the ‘could be’s’ and ‘what if’s’. The voice that was honest enough, that wasn't too proud to admit that his feelings for her had long exceeded those of even friendship.
But that voice didn't know shit, and didn't he just tell it to shut the hell up?! It didn't matter how he felt about the girl, he was a mess and she deserved better. Honestly, sometimes he would be so cruel in a particular fit of his own emotions, he wondered why she even still came around. If the little voice was still running its trap, which it wasn't, no way, it might pitifully hope she felt the same way.
He clenched his fists against the arms of his throne until the wood creaked and his knuckles turned white. Somewhere in his mind he vaguely remembered a voice, drunken and hateful, telling him he'd always be alone. Because he was nothing, worthless, a fuck up. This time his nails dug into his palms, easily breaking skin and drawing blood.
That voice sounded a little too much like his father for his liking, and he was much more inclined to try beating it in then telling it to be quiet.
A solid knock on his door drove it away for now, though, one of the grunts asking for permission to enter.
“Yo boss,” she drawled, quirking an eyebrow at his angered state but otherwise brushing over it. “That sugary little trainer is here to see you.”
“Aright. Tell her I'll be out in a minute.”
“You got it.”
After the grunts departure, he begrudgingly stood, making his way to the sink to wash the blood from his palms.
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Once Guzma headed downstairs, he and Moon departed immediately, Plumeria having said she would meet them there. Moon greeted him cheerfully and he responded with his usual gruffness, making sure to keep his arms crossed and his hands clenched.
Apparently the gesture was normal enough for Moon not to question it, her features lit up as she walked in step with him, telling him of the festival events once more. Already he wanted to let himself relax, to stop himself from barking out answers, to smile with her. This wasn't going to be easy.
But he knew better. Despite her obvious excitement, there was a knowing look in her eyes, almost sad. Of course she could tell something was bugging at him, he just hoped he could act accordingly enough keep her from guessing what it was. He didn't want to think of how she might react, that looming voice in his mind already supplying a handful of scenarios in which she'd reject him before he could shake the thought.
When they arrived Plumeria was already there, easily spotted on a bench near a sweets booth.
Not a moment later Moon was running up to her, warmly greeting Plumeria, minus a hug, since she knew from experience that it was wiser not to greet her that way.
Guzma had hung back during the exchange, snorting at the loud display. People gathered for the festival were already staring to begin with, clearing recognizing them from Team Skull. He didn't care too much, it was just like them to go causing a bit of a scene. It was something he might start to miss if it stopped happening, her running around with hugs and smiles for everyone. How corny was that?
If Guzma was being honest with himself, which usually, he wasn't, he knew his feelings for Moon were obvious. Maybe not to someone who didn't know him, but to Plumeria? Of course she'd had him figured out since day one, if the way he got so worked up at the mention of her was any indication. That, and if it hadn't been painfully obvious to the admin before, he and Plumeria had gone out drinking one afternoon. Plumeria hadn't actually drank anything, more or less she was watching him and making sure he got to bed without choking on his own vomit. When the time had come to drag him home and into bed Guzma, completely wasted, had loudly babbled about his feelings for the girl in his stupor. At the time, Plumeria had just continued dragging him along to Po Town with a scoff and a roll of her eyes, as if she'd known all along(she had). Guzma might have actually regretted the night if it had been anyone but his first admin to hear it.
It didn't make much sense to him how Moon hadn't figured it out as well, but then maybe she had. It was entirely possible that she knew and simply hadn't said anything, sparing him of the whole mess of rejection. He dug his nails back into the crescent indents in his palms, the still fresh wounds stinging. How merciful.
The girls were heading back to him now, and Plumeria was looking straight at Guzma, eyebrow already quirked. If she was catching on so damn fast, how was he supposed to keep this up all night?
“Guzma.” She deadpanned.
“Nice to see you too, Plum.” He bit back, hoping maybe the quip would derail her from whatever it was she was so clearly set on. It, of course, didn't.
“You owe me a snow cone, don't you?” She tapped a foot, as if he'd been keeping her waiting.
His face contorted in frustrated confusion, a bit irritated at his first Admin’s attitude. “The fuck a—”
“Moon, would you mind holding a spot in line for us at the Haunted Hay Maze? We’ll be right back.”
The girl seemed willing enough to comply, and Guzma was practically dragged towards a snow cone stand by someone who was technically supposed to be his subordinate. Clearly, he was infuriated by the time they arrived, Plumeria already ordering ‘cherry’ flavored ice.
“Plum, what the hell was that for?!” It came out almost like a growl, but the girl was completely unaffected.
“You know what it's for, Boss.” She bit back, glaring at him after finishing her order.
“If I knew, I wouldn't be fuckin’ asking, would I?” His stomach lurched even as he said it, trying to sound angry and not fearful. He knew exactly what this was about.
“You have feelings for her. I'm going to guess she probably knows that too, and you're just pushing her away, and acting like you don't.” Her voice and words were hardened, resolute as ever.
He almost flinched at the words, opening his mouth to protest, but she kept going.
“Don't even start with that ‘I'm no good for her’, or ‘she'd never like me back’ bullshit either, G. I'm almost certain she does, and you, believe it or not, deserve happiness too.” In a smaller, almost kind voice that hurt his own heart. “We all want that for you.”
“What am I supposed to do Plum? Walk up to her and spill my guts with some dumb ass smile so we can go skipping off into the sunset, holding fuckin’ hands? You know I don't—don't work like that.” He tried to charge his words with anger, but even to himself they sounded tired, pleading.
You know I don't know how to open up.
Her expression softened, and gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You don't have to do this all at once. I'm just saying give it a chance, give yourself a chance. Have fun tonight, try and be a little more open. It won't hurt too much, I promise."
They walked back to join Moon, who appeared to be animatedly talking about a movie starring a zoo keeper with someone else in line, Plumeria with a blood red snow cone in hand. The night went on, and as they shuffled through the line for the maze Guzma thought over her words. At first, he'd tried to be mad, defiant, having none of one of his closest friends well meant advice.
By the time they'd gotten into the maze, he sensed an odd sense of familiarity with the scenario. He'd never gone to this festival, and yet…
Plumeria had finished off the snow cone before they entered, lips tinted red. Oddly enough, the girl decided to walk behind Guzma and Moon, which made him wary. It became apparent later that she’d been planning to spook the two of them all along. Moon and he both falling for it(although he'd never admit to it). He laughed at her for being afraid, snickering and poking her in the ribs, the playful jab making her laugh instead of whine as he had intended. Realizing how easily he'd fallen into the course of action, he'd almost reeled back, almost stopped himself. It wasn't an arm around her waist, or his hand in hers, but it was something. For whatever reason Plum's motherly hen shit was actually convincing him, at least a little, to try. It seemed like that weak, hopeful voice was going to have it's way for now. Not that he planned to go thanking her for it or anything, since she was probably already smugly aware.
Moons face did light up when she went running through the Pumpkaboo Patch, and maybe the sight did make his chest feel lighter. But apparently he wasn't allowed to just sit back and watch, Plumeria tugging at his wrist and telling him that they may as well pick some pumpkins out too. He tried to find the biggest one, naturally, while Plumeria squatted along the rows of the Patch, simply trying to find one that had been abused by reckless children the least.
Moon was, predictably, as every bit invested in the ghost stories by the bonfire as he thought she'd be. She would lean in, all childlike interest, eyes glimmering with the reflection of the flames. Plumeria’s stories took on the darkest and most morbid of turns. She had even the older story goers shivering and looking completely uncomfortable, and honestly, he wasn't too far behind them himself. Guzma shuddered at that. He loved his first admin and all, but sometimes? She was seriously fucking weird. As for Guzma himself, he didn't much care for the stories at all, except when a particularly dark one gave him reason to poke fun at Moon, asking if she was scared. She never took any real offense, sometimes sticking out her tongue at him or squirming when he felt brave enough to try tickling her again, those moments always fleeting. More than anything he liked when she was listening intently to a story, allowing him to inconspicuously admire the beauty of her face in the firelight.
By the end of the event she had bought heapings of food for him, as promised, much to both her wallet's dismay and her own. Plumeria quirked a curious eyebrow and gave him a disapproving look, but other than that she left it alone.
Eventually Moon did try dragging him to the face painting stand, grabbing his hand in her own. He winced when she stopped, feeling the crescent wounds in his palms almost immediately. The night had been going well, and his own stupid rage was about to ruin it. She would be angry, or disgusted, and repulsed, she would drop his hand and walk away. He was expecting it, waiting for it, but she didn't do any of that. She was looking at him, all confusion and concern, asking what was wrong, what happened.
He couldn't tell her, not really, he never could. So he brushed it off, told her it was nothing, that he was fine. It wasn't, and she knew, but she didn't press it. They walked along the stalls together a little longer before everyone parted ways, and that dominating voice tried tearing into the hopeful one, like it always did.
They never made it to the face painting stall, but he thought distantly that that was okay. He hadn't the courage to tell her about his hands, not yet, and he didn't think he would have had the courage to let her get something painted on him all the same. But it was something. A start.