Chapter Text
Piers loved Raihan. Raihan loved Piers. The two were a unit, cohabitants- a couple.
They’d gotten together shortly after the whole Eternatus fiasco and Piers’ retirement from League, bonding over shared fears and scared dreams. Arceus, they’d even raised a Goomy together and given it to that new champion, Gloria. They were inseparable! A couple that Galar media snobs raved about and young trainers dreamed of having the love they had for each other with their own beaus.
Now, Raihan and Piers seldom fought- if they did it was over petty things like smelly shoes or who didn’t wash the dishes after dinner that night. There were always the accusations from “eyewitnesses” on the ‘gram of Raihan with another girl or Piers on the arm of another, but the two were usually within a few feet of each other when the pictures are taken and reported on, it was a fun game to the two to try to see who was going to try to break them up next.
It struck Piers in the dead of night, curled in Raihan’s snoring embrace and drooly grin. They weren’t Piers or Raihan, they were Piers and Raihan, never separate. They were… each other. They did basically everything together, it was a joke among the league members that if Raihan was in the room, Piers probably wasn’t far and vice versa with team Yell grunts and Spikemuth residents. Even at Piers’ concerts, it wasn’t uncommon for Raihan to be backstage with his exclusive “permanent staff pass” (Piers claimed he was essential, not just another audience member). In Raihan’s media feed, Piers can be found somewhere in every picture, every video… everywhere. With the interviews, it wasn’t uncommon for one to be asked about the other’s opinion on something without the person in question even being present.
They were whole, two sides of the same coin.
Piers wasn’t sure if… he liked that life anymore. His revolved around Raihan and Raihan’s his, they were the sun in each other’s sky. Their teams were respectively pokemon they’d caught or raised together (save their trademark pokemon who’d been around since the beginning). The essence of each other was intrinsically in everything they had and did.
Piers wasn’t Piers, he was Raihan’s boyfriend. Raihan wasn’t Raihan, he was Piers’ boyfriend.
Now, don’t get him wrong; there was no abuse or manipulation keeping him glued to Raihan’s side or vice versa. It was just a fact of their personalities, they’d become dependent people which wasn’t the worst! Piers wasn’t unhappy with the status of the relationship or what have you, he just… didn’t feel that same curl in his heart or heat in his gut with Raihan anymore. He didn’t have his eyes on anyone else and he’s relatively sure Raihan doesn’t either! At least he hopes or maybe that’d even make things easier- end in flames, go through that whole petty, fiery hate phase, then eventually lower their heads and talk things over like mature adults. The whole she-bang.
A grunt as the newest zigzagoon pushed against the hand that had stopped petting it- Raihan was busy, the Gym Challenge had started up again and he was all over the place (yet he still made time to come home to Piers, kiss him, ravage him a little bit, cook dinner and head out the next morning with a lingering touch and promise to win). Piers smiled down at the raccoon-dog, picking it up by its front and holding it in front of himself. “What am I goin’ to do, eh? Bet yer lil’ ‘ead is hurtin’ from jus’ me thinkin’ so hard.” A short nuzzle to the scratchy fur atop the little one’s head. He inhaled the musk of the zigzagoon before it started squirming in his hold, evidently not liking the confines of his arms. Huffing laughter, he let the pokemon go and pad off to settle somewhere in the piled blanket on the couch adjacent.
Piers sank back into the worn cushions of the old loveseat, eyelids closing heavily when he let out a breath that deflated his core.
What was he supposed to say? Hey babe, come over so I can tell you were breaking up! Why? Oh, I just don’t love you anymore, haha bye!
He pressed the heels of his palms into his face, a short groan spilling out as he let his arms fall slack against the furniture. Raihan had offered to buy him new furniture and he’d vehemently denied the offer- it was a weird feeling for him to be so adamant about decrepit couches and linoone eaten pillows but they were items he fought for, worked for. Raihan had accepted that, helped him repair them when they were close to falling apart into dust.
Raihan always accepted Piers. When his depression hit, or when his anxiety had him too keyed up, or when a concert hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted it to. Whatever it was, Raihan was there with a warm hand and a soothing baritone.
Piers was always there to tug Raihan out of his signature jacket when he lost a match, carding thin fingers through his locs and humming a soft tune as Raihan whimpered quietly against his chest. He held his hand when he confronted the family that had only prioritized his connection to dragons over his actual personhood. When Raihan and Leon had gotten into a verbal dispute that turned physical, Piers was there to drag Raihan back home with a scolding and a push to apologize with a pack of frozen berries pressed to the cheek where he’d discovered Leon had a mean left hook. They all had an amicable curry lunch together the next day.
His hand lingered over the marks on his neck from the heated romp he and Raihan had fallen into the other night before he left for the next match. They knew each other’s bodies and knew each other’s souls.
Piers inhaled and typed up that dreaded hey, can we talk? text at 3 in the afternoon. Raihan was at the end of the circuit. The final matches were impending and maybe they’d give the right distraction- no, Arceus, a break up would throw off his game! It would be Piers’ fault if he lost.
He saved the message as a draft. He’d delete it if Raihan texted him otherwise.
Tomorrow. He will talk to him tomorrow.
Rolling creaky shoulders, he eased the zigzagoon off his lap before rising to stretch once more. He’d watch the recording of Raihan’s latest match while he fell asleep, or listen to the long voicemail he’d sent while he was in the shower. Whichever ended up happening first.
The squeaky floorboards were covered in foot trampled carpet, all different styles but muted colors from the whole 4 times a year Piers stripped and cleaned them. He was a busy man, there's no blame to be placed! His long fingers combed through hair spray and gel long dried- Raihan always said his hair was soft but it was so amusing when he uttered the compliment then felt the crunch of his gel holding back the fly aways that threatened to escape his bangs and ponytail. A smile played at Piers’ thin lips, then the familiar Froakie in his throat settled something heavy. Even the thought of the taller gym leader made his throat close and chest tight.
Piers knew. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. Whoever said loving is easy was fucked up and smoking the wrong kind of crack.
Forgoing his shower, he face planted into raccoon-dog pokemon musk stink blankets and let the dying echoes of anxious hypotheticals and empty theories whisk himself into a sleep where he’d wake up 4 times, use the bathroom two of those times, the other two he would just stare at himself in the mirror.
Last waking thought Piers had before eventually slumping into gross, slobbery, snoring heat of his loyal Obstagoon was:
Arceus, ‘m gettin’ old.