Work Text:
Drops fell onto plain white sheets, the soft material absorbing salty fluid that faded into damp, transparent stains. A boy stared at his roto-phone, tears sliding down his cheeks to his avail. His face was flushed red, nose and eyes puffy from crying. He held his roto-phone shakily, and put it into sleep mode.
Arven stared up at the ceiling as he turned over on his bed, curling into himself and drawing his knees toward his chest.
He was acting childish. This is stupid, he told himself.
Beside his bed, Mabosstiff was sleeping soundly, unaware of the dilemma Arven created in his head,
The creation of universes and galaxies, blinding white stars combusting into flares—that would describe the state of Arven’s heart and his mind. Strings tugged at his chest, drawing taut with no intention of loosening.
Was this what love felt like?
He turned on his phone again, eyes droopy and sensitive from weeping. Arven swiped once, twice, and opened the messenger app.
[Thank you for the meal last night, I think I enjoyed it a little too much. May we meet again sometime soon? Not only is your cooking spectacular, but I feel more at ease with you.]
[Apologies if this is strange. I just find myself drawn to you.]
Larry was the sender of those messages, and Arven couldn’t help but make a frustrated squeal and throw his phone on his bed. Mabosstiff perked up from his rest, sleepily staring up at Arven in concern. Arven glanced at Mabosstiff, sorry for waking him up, and focused his vision on the plain white ceiling again.
Larry, the fifth gym leader. Larry, the third elite four member. Larry, a reserved man who also worked an unknown nine-to-five office job. Larry, who had a love for good food. Larry, who was one of the kindest souls in Paldea.
I just find myself drawn to you.
Did Larry reciprocate Arven’s feelings?
No, it’s impossible, Arven convinced himself. He was a teen and Larry was an adult, they couldn’t possibly fall in love with each other—it was taboo! And yet, the thought of Larry’s presence made his heart rate accelerate, his heart beating in his chest so rapidly and so harshly that he could feel it want to pound straight out of his throat. Arven’s face was flushed pink, embarrassed by his reactions to such simple and polite messages.
Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe it was the red-rimmed glasses held over his eyes, viewing the handsome adult in only the way infatuated teens would see. It was normal to have a crush on people older and greater than you, right?
But this man took an interest in Arven. Nevermind that he liked his cooking—Arven was indeed proud of his skills—Larry wanted to spend time with him.
Arven was wanted.
It was no wonder why he became infatuated with Larry. To be wanted, to be seen as comfort to someone else… The teen never recalled a moment in his life where he was seen as that person.
He never approached anyone in hopes of having a relationship, and vice versa. His parent never needed him for help, always the other way around because he was such a young child. Arven was loved by Mabosstiff, and that was the only love he felt.
Maybe this was his chance. Maybe he could feel that love from another human being.
[Of course! Let me know when you want to drop by, I’d be glad to cook for you again!]
And to spend time with you again.