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Lear is at the point of desperation where he can admit to himself that he misses Cheren more than just a little.
He’s buried himself into his work to the brink of exhaustion (and has most definitely pushed past it on multiple occasions), spent numerous nights struggling not to focus on him and by proxy failed at doing anything else. He’s spent hours and days and hell, maybe even weeks trying this and that and Arceus knows what else not thinking about how much he could (and should) be doing.
As future king of his country and the creator of Pasio, he knows what it’s like to have responsibilities, even if it means having to leave others behind. Cheren knows it too; that’s why he left and went back to Unova. He has things, important things, to come back to, and it’s not worth it for one person. (Despite what all romance movies show.) So does Lear.
Long distance relationships can be hard, even despite knowing that.
He knows that Cheren, as he so nicely put it, “is just a call away.” But it’s hard to do that when every time they talk, he’s reminded of how far apart they really are. Not just when they talk or text, either. Every waking hour because he swears he’s been everywhere on this island with Cheren at least three times over. Pasio’s best coffee shop, his personal flower garden, Cheren’s apartment. The last, he was keeping for whenever Cheren came back. (If he came back.)
Wherever he looked, there was a good handful of memories waiting for him. He could almost feel Cheren’s warmth on his wrist, his waist, pulling him close and kissing him until he forgets to breathe. Looping an arm around his shoulders and making him feel loved just by the brush of their hands and his soft voice telling him all the things he’s needed to hear from him since he left. All that and more is all he’s been really focusing on for maybe the last two weeks.
It made him feel like he was going insane.
(Which, for the sake of Cheren, is somewhat bearable. Emphasis on somewhat.)
He’s almost tempted to let go of his dignity and delve full on into his schoolgirl-like delusions, scribble his name complete with hearts haphazardly in the margins of his paperwork, dream of him briefly every time he dares to blink and get lost in wishful daydreams. Forget all of his duties for one week alone with Cheren back in his boyfriend’s hometown. Arceus, he’s dying for something like that. If he could steal some time away for himself, leave it to a few very capable individuals, maybe there was a chance...
But no. There wasn’t anyone he believed competent enough to deal with his constant workload and keep up with his usual pace—sure, he can say he trusts people, but surely not that much— and he knows this, he’s been knowing it ever since Cheren decided to get on that plane and go somewhere Lear isn’t, and as far as they both know, can’t be. At least for a while.
Maybe if their farewells were more dramatic, maybe if he wasn’t so stubborn about admitting he liked him for gods knows how long, maybe if he actually decided to be upfront about his words and affection he wouldn’t be so torn up. Who knows how Cheren’s feeling; if anything, it’s not him. He’s been very out of touch the last... while. It makes him feel worse about the situation most of the time, but if he wants to stop himself from being such a yearning fool and stay so hopeless, it couldn’t hurt to be a little dry and distant. (Okay, it does hurt. A lot. But he believes it’s right, and Cheren hasn’t texted much since he started doing it, so... win?)
It’s a jerk move, doing this so late where he has almost no chance of responding, but he can’t resist the thought. He’s been mulling over this and tossing his phone back and forth between his hands for the last couple of minutes, hand hovering over Cheren’s contact and contradicting himself over and over. Maybe he should, maybe he shouldn’t. Pros and cons, good and bad. In the end he fumbles too much with his phone, forgets how bad his hand-eye coordination tends to be, and to his utter horror, his hand in an attempt to pick it up makes the decision for him.
His heart goes from hammering in his chest to plummeting into his stomach when Cheren picks up immediately. In all their calls and texts, he’s always tended to respond quickly, but definitely not that quick. He chews on his bottom lip, brows furrowed as the call begins and he’s greeted with the sound of pencil scratching on paper and slightly heavy breathing. “Excuse me?”
“Good evening,” he answers, tentatively, feeling like any minute he’ll get lectured for his poor behavior. “I didn’t think you’d pick up.”
“Then why did you call?” Good question, actually. He can almost hear the gears and cogs turning in Cheren’s head as he tries to figure out what his current thought process was. Going to be hard when the person you’re trying to figure out knows about as much as you do. “You typically don’t like to call. Didn’t you say it was...”
“Because it’s easier to talk over text, yes.” Then a horrible awkward pause only filled with more pencil sounds and oh Arceus why did he even try calling in the first place. “We haven’t called in a while.”
“Yeah.” He honestly didn’t expect Cheren to be this... blunt? He supposes that would be the word. Maybe it’s because of the absurd hours in which Lear bothered him, or whatever he’s doing that put him in a bad mood beforehand, but it’s making him even more nervous than he was before. He spends another pause grazing his teeth over his bottom lip repeatedly, unsure what to say. Can he just ramble to him about how much he misses him and how much he wants to be with him and how many times he’s thought about kissing him until his lips hurt? Was he allowed to do that? “Okay... I don’t, I don’t get this. At all.”
Oh no. Here it is. “Hm?”
Maybe Cheren’s frowning, or he’s just confused, but he can hear something in his tone that puts him off further. “First you give me so much affection a few days after I’m away, then spend the rest of the time with barely any texts when it’s obvious I’d like to talk, almost no attempts to call me, and now you’ve called me at 2am and you outright told me you didn’t even think I’d answer.”
Oh. When Cheren laid all the facts out that way, it’s obvious to see he’s a very difficult boyfriend, isn’t he? What was the word...? High maintenance. “...Yes.” He pauses again, fiddling with his hands where they now laid in his lap. “I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t even have to imagine Cheren’s frown judging by the long sigh that leaves his lips after he speaks. “It’s really not a good thing to do to your boyfriend, let alone anyone for that matter. Checking up would be a great thing, every now and then, is all.”
“I know.” What does he say? What does he dare to say, when he feels like every word he says is making Cheren feel worse? “I wanted to give you a little space.”
Cheren’s tone is incredulous, to say the least. “Why?”
“I, I didn’t...” His whole reason was insanely selfish and he now realizes this fully. Should he even tell the truth? Since they’re not talking face-to-face it’s harder to catch him lying, right? “I thought you should focus more on your work and less on me?” Right?
“You’re so obvious when you lie.” Wrong. “You can just tell me, Lear. I won’t be mad.”
“Then what are you right now?”
“Annoyed.”
Lear sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, sitting up slightly before opening his mouth to speak. Almost as if he knew (and to be honest, he probably did) Cheren’s crackly audio came to a halt, writing and all. Even his breath seemed to pause temporarily. Should he just spill everything? “It’s a very selfish reason, just so you know.”
“Something new and different from you, I’m guessing,” Cheren responds dryly, before seeming to reconsider his words. “Sorry about that. I’ve just had half a mind to storm over to Pasio myself and ask for answers. Your behavior’s been very... confusing.”
“Coming over would be wonderful, actually,” Lear starts, but clears his throat shortly after saying that. “I may have distanced myself. Just a little,” he hears Cheren scoff a bit from the other line and okay it wasn’t a little, not at all, “because I’ve been starting to miss you.” He paused, hesitantly continuing. “A lot. And I haven’t missed someone this much in a long time.”
“And you decided to talk less because...?”
Lear’s lips strained into a thin line. “Because I thought it would make missing you more bearable. It’s too much having you gone all of a sudden.” He buries his head into his hands, for some strange reason feeling like he should laugh. “It’s as the saying goes: ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder.’”
He really, really wishes he could see Cheren right now. How his body relaxes, how he hopefully stops frowning, how he might have cupped his cheek or brushed a strand of hair away from his face before talking. Instead all he gets is a mattress and empty space. Arceus, he misses him so much. “You should have asked us to spend more time together, or let me know about it, or both. That only does the opposite, well, you know that now. I could book a flight—”
“No.” Lear immediately stops him, bringing the phone closer to his lips as he interrupts him. “You shouldn’t. There’s better things to deal with for both of us. We can’t leave those things, not yet at least.”
Cheren seems to want to say something (gods above how much he wants to kiss him on the cheek and tell him to go and say it, please) but catches himself and decides to hold his tongue. “I guess so. But I want you to be happy in my absence, Lear. I really do wish you could’ve said something sooner.”
“I just didn’t know what to say,” Lear mumbled, hoping his phone was able to pick up his words. I was embarrassed. “It makes me seem strange, doesn’t it?”
Cheren seemed very skeptical. “Really? What does?”
“Missing you and dreaming about you and wishing you were here to such an extent.” Lear sighs, shifting so he’s facing the window and watches an airplane go by. He wants to go on that airplane. “It makes me sound... clingy. Or something similar.”
There was a long pause, and then Cheren began to laugh.
(Arceus, how he missed that laugh. He could listen to it for hours, if it was possible for someone to laugh for so long.)
“What’s so funny!?” Lear shouted into the speaker, making Cheren laugh harder. “I’m serious! Doesn’t it make me seem clingy?”
“It makes you seem normal.” Cheren sounds like he’s grinning, and that makes a giddy warmth bloom in his chest. “I can’t believe you really think that. I know what I signed up for.” Lear huffed, but curled his body around his phone, desperate to hear every word. “You’re really adorable, you know.”
Lear made a weird, strangled noise in the back of his throat at the sudden compliment, coughing to try and distract Cheren from hearing it. To avoid the question, he prompted one of his own. “Signed up for, huh? So I am clingy?”
“Sort of,” and thankfully Cheren’s gone back to writing or whatever he was doing before he called, acting as good background noise for when they both get silent. “But it’s nice, and I still love you for it. Of course I do.”
He freezes, cheeks burning. “I— I love you too,” he says, suddenly very flustered by his own words. “A-Anyway! Um. What else...”
He trails off, forgetting to finish the question, and Cheren, ever the considerate one, notices. “What is it?”
“What, uh, what are you doing right now? Why are you up so late?”
“Ah.” He hears the sound of a stapler and the flipping of pages, more noises adding onto mutual silence. “I’m grading and working on some papers for class.” A well-timed yawn cuts him off for a brief moment, hearing his chair creak as Cheren most likely leans back. “Might have to sleep soon, though.”
“Oh.” Lear closes his eyes, pressing his head further into his pillow. “Sorry I haven’t called sooner.”
“It’s okay. I’m not upset anymore— that is, as long as you talk to me more now. I’ve missed you a lot too, you know.”
“Of course I will!” He grins, and leans closer to his phone. “I’ll treat you as well as I always do!”
He can hear a chuckle from the other line (which better not be in a sarcastic way!) and he feels his chest tighten in adoration. “Yes, you will.” Cheren’s voice is warm and so, so sweet, making Lear melt. “And I’ll give you as many kisses as you’d like.”
Lear doesn’t bother to hide his smile at the idea— he has no reason to, after all— and nods, although somewhat embarrassed knowing Cheren isn’t able to see him. “That would be nice.” His voice quiets down to a whisper, eyes low as he stares at the time. “I can’t wait to see you again soon.”
“It shouldn’t be too long until then. I don’t have too much to take care of,” Cheren murmurs, “but you know if I come back it’ll have to be short. I’ve left my class for too long to participate in the PML, and substitutes can be unbearable sometimes.” He knows Cheren enough to know he’s running a hand through his hair right now, deep bags under his eyes and a frown.
If he was over there he’d be able to coax him to bed and sleep next to him or at least help out with his work, but he can’t— another thing about the distance between them that drives Lear mad. “Don’t rush. I know there’s things that have to be done on your end, so no worries about me. Besides, if it really gets too much I can easily book a flight.” He’s faintly reminded of distasteful things like responsibility and paperwork— giving him a most horrible headache. “If I’m free enough to.”
“We’re too busy for this,” Cheren groans, and Lear can hear his fingers drum a vague rhythm on his desk. “I can’t believe I had to get with a future king and creator of a whole artificial island. Talk about workaholic.”
“Oh really? If we’re talking about workaholics then I think you should be the topic of conversation instead.” Lear scoffs, taking pleasure in the intrigued hum he hears from Cheren. “Who becomes a teacher at 16? I’m sure common knowledge for all students out there is that generally, teachers are underpaid and overworked. Why would you go into such a stressful career at such a young age?”
Lear almost thought that Cheren would be speechless, having no words for his very good point, but of course he had thought of an answer immediately. Incredibly smart as always, even while sleep deprived. “Well, I knew what I had wanted to do early on in my life. It’s worked out well for me so far, at least, so I have no complaints for what I’ve chosen to do. Though,” and surprisingly his phone picked up how Cheren sucked in a harsh breath, “the workload is barely manageable sometimes.”
“I can tell. Participating in the PML must’ve been a positive thing for you in that area too. Perhaps you just needed some time away from teaching.” Lear’s chest puffs out in pride at the thought. Indirectly having a positive impact on someone, especially when it was Cheren of all people! “I wonder if I could help you out once I visit.”
“What, like a teacher assistant?” Cheren chuckles a little at the idea, and Lear is once again tempted to ask him what’s so funny. “It shocks me to think you’d be willing to help out with a bunch of children.”
“I’m not... terribly against the idea,” Lear pauses, considering the thought. It would be obnoxious, and probably loud, and it’d be children who most likely will be unintentionally (or intentionally? You can never be too sure with kids) evil, but it’d give him a chance to see Cheren in another environment. He’d be able to see him while he’s working and chat between classes or lunch breaks. Watch him teach and admire his patience and how hard working he is. How amazing it is that he stays calm under all this pressure. Taking that into account... “It wouldn’t be so bad. I’m sure I’d be able to deal with it somehow, as long as it means you can spend more time with me once the day is over.”
“Then I’m sure we can figure something out,” Cheren responds, and Lear can hear the way he’s beaming in his voice. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll fit in pretty easily.”
Is that a compliment? A grin plays at his lips, his confidence boosted knowing that Cheren thinks of him so highly. Maybe once he’s in Unova he’ll tag along for classes and see how everything goes. “Is that so?”
“Mhm. You act just about as childish as the rest of them.”
He should’ve known better than to accept it so easily. “Ugh! Come on, Cheren, I thought that was genuine.”
“It’s very true, though, right?” Cheren’s happy, at least, so the playful insult isn’t so bad to deal with. “If you wanted to hear something nice you should’ve just said so.”
“I doubt someone with as much pride as mine would stoop to the level where I ask for praise,” Lear huffs, though finding it harder to continue talking as a yawn fights to leave his mouth. “It’s foolish to do so.”
“Whatever you say.” Lear’s eyelids keep threatening to slide shut and he struggles to stay awake, grasping uselessly at his phone. He thinks Cheren notices when his high energy attitude seems to tone itself down, his typically loud voice falling silent. “Are you getting tired now?”
“Yeah,” and Lear’s slowly easing his head onto his pillow, staring with blurred vision at his screen as he blinks slowly. “Are you going to sleep soon too?”
Cheren lets out a little hum, considering the thought before placing his pencil down. “I might stay up for a little while longer, but you, my prince, should head to bed.” Just hearing that nickname made Lear smile, one that spread gently across his face and lit up his features. A look Cheren had seen many times before, but Lear wishes he were there to see it right now. “Maybe you’ll see me in your dreams tonight, who knows.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Lear laughs, playful because he knows it’s going to happen even if he denies it. “I’ll talk to you in the morning, and you better hold me to that, okay, Cheren?”
“I’m sure I won’t need to. Get a lot of rest for me, since I won’t be getting much tonight.” Almost on cue, the rustling of paper continued. “Pray that I’m collected enough to teach a class all day with the amount of hours I’m getting.”
Lear wanted to give multiple reasons why he should go to sleep and convince him to lay down, but he failed to conjure up the energy. “Just go to bed soon, alright? Those papers aren’t on a deadline, are they?” His exhaustion was now seeping into his voice, body relaxing as his eyes drooped again. “I hope... your students call you out on your eyebags.”
“Ha, okay. Send my regards to Rachel and Sawyer when you’re so sleep deprived you forget to gel your hair right.”
The thought in itself is enough to wake up Lear a little bit more, rubbing his eyes in a frenzy. “I would never,” Lear gasps, “I wouldn’t dare even entertain the thought!”
“As someone who’s seen your surprising bedhead on multiple occasions I find it hilarious.” Cheren’s voice crackles, the mischief in his tone evident. Why he— “Do you think that with enough hair gel you could make your hair into cat ears? Is that even possible?”
Lear paused, completely silent for a few seconds before sitting up and hovering his finger over the ‘End Call’ button. “Hanging up now, goodnight!”
“It’s a good question,” Cheren shouts before he can click it, “you know it is. With that reaction you’ve probably tried it before!”
“No, I have not,” Lear pressed through gritted teeth, trying to avoid any further discussion. “I like my hair the way it is, thank you very much. Though, seriously...” He blinked multiple times, finding it harder and harder to stay upright with every minute that passed by. “I think I’ll have to sleep now.”
“Okay.” Cheren’s voice softens considerably, and his voice sounds like he’s leaned in. “I love you, and I miss you more every day. Goodnight, my prince.”
Lear’s cheeks flush a nice, rosy shade of pink, and he hopes that if Cheren were here with him he’d kiss both of them before kissing him. “I love you too, Cheren. My adoration only grows the more time we spend away from each other, and it’ll multiply when we meet again. In other words,” and a warm smile tugs at his lips, “I miss you so much it hurts me. Goodnight. Take care of yourself, and sleep soon.”
Once he ends the call, the room is suddenly very silent, but Lear’s mind can’t bring itself to feel upset about how far away they are. (For tonight, at least.)
Instead, he focuses on closing his eyes, placing his phone aside and drifts easily off to sleep for the first time in days.