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He wasn't sure when Melli had decided to start making frequent visits to his home.
Long enough ago, evidently, that he didn't hesitate to make himself comfortable on Ingo's bed upon entering. He didn't just sit down-- oh, no, his lax posture could be called nothing but a lounge. A sprawl, if one were so inclined. Splayed out on his side, one arm tucked under him to keep him in a vaguely upright position and the other gesturing as he spoke, all long legs and immaculate curls.
Ahem.
Whenever it had started, it had gone on long enough that Ingo was wholly accustomed to it at this point. He hardly batted an eye at the door bursting open and Melli traipsing in. He also knew more about the latest gossip amidst the Diamond Clan than he would've ever cared to on his own.
And yet despite his frequent visits, Melli still continued to fit ceaseless insults aimed at Ingo into his rambling diatribes. He had to wonder why the other Warden bothered to make the unnecessary journey to Ingo's home (and furthermore, spend so much time once he’d arrived) if he didn't like him. It wasn't like it was on the way to any of the other places he needed to frequent. Simple loneliness, perhaps? There was no one else who spent any consistent time on the mountain aside from perhaps a handful of recruits from the Galaxy Teams, and Melli tended to look down on them on principle.
"I feel as though this would be better discussed with someone of your own clan," he said in response to Melli's latest piece of trivia about the personal lives of his clanmates. (He tried to tune it out when the gossip got too invasive.) "Not that I have any objection to your visits, but it would reduce the need for you to trek all the way out here. As well as limit the amount of time we’re required to spend in each other's presence.”
For some reason, Melli looked downright crestfallen at that. Though his expression righted itself into a dismissive sneer fast enough that Ingo had to wonder if he’d imagined it being anything else. "Excuse you, I am a delight."
"I never said you weren't." With carefully steady hands, he finished pouring the customary cup of tea he always offered and held it out. Melli sat up so he could take it, though didn't drink it right away, instead ruminating on it like a fine wine. "However, I was under the impression that you didn't like me."
"What?" Melli seemed to… deflate. His eyebrows knit and his mouth slid into a downturn. "Really?"
"You've been quite adamant that we not cross tracks on our daily commutes across the Highlands, and now that we regularly meet you make a habit of insulting me at every turn. Yet you still go out of your way to find me when you’re in need of someone to talk to.” He dusted the tea leaves off his hands. He’d need to find more soon-- his stocks were running low. He’d never had to use this much in so short a time before. (He wasn't that fond of it, personally. He always craved something more bitter. He still bought it, because he felt like he should, but he hardly ever drank it himself. Only made cup after cup for Melli, half of which went untouched by the time the man left. The one time Ingo had neglected to do so, however, Melli had called him out on the change in behavior. So he just... kept doing it.) “I will continue to listen to you, it just seems… irrational.”
"I-- That is--" Melli sputtered, reaching up with the hand not holding the cup to tug at his hair. He was going to give himself split ends if he kept that up. "Well."
Ingo sighed, pulling over a stool so he could sit down across from Melli and put them on equal ground. (Theoretically, he should have made Melli move and taken a seat on his own bed, but given the way Melli was fidgeting and picking at a loose thread on the fabric it seemed like he could use the comfort.) "You don't have to explain yourself to me. I understand that as much as we have reached a… tolerant civility, I am still an outsider and a trespasser on a land you had laid claim to first. The Pearl Clan may believe space exists to be shared, but I personally understand a desire to not have others intrude upon it. Civility is all I will ask of you. That I be allowed to perform my duties in peace."
Melli stared at him for a moment. Then he flushed red, forcefully (though not so forcefully that he risked spilling it and making a mess, Ingo noticed) setting aside the cup he was holding. "Well! I see. Alright, fine-- I'm not so dense I can't take a hint when it's thrown in my face."
"What?"
"Forgive me for intruding , Warden. I'll just be going then."
"Melli--"
"I've no need to stay where I'm so clearly not wanted." He was making for the door, but Ingo knew if he let him leave now they'd never speak again. So foregoing any sense of propriety (and horribly insulting the Pearl Clan's values of respecting personal space while he was at it), he stood and grabbed Melli by the arm. "What do you think you're--"
"I believe there is some severe misinterpretation going on here, on both of our parts" Ingo said, his tone firm. Melli tried to pull his arm away to no avail. It was rude and Ingo would certainly be apologizing later, however if Melli didn't want to listen to him, it didn't matter what he said. Sometimes action was the only thing that could make people listen. Especially when said action was so wildly out of character that it left the other party reeling. "Sit down and let us discuss this without any unwarranted track changes."
Melli gave him a wary look.
"Please."
The tension faded ever so slightly, and Ingo carefully released Melli's arm. He was pretty sure it wouldn't bruise, but he'd check later to be sure. (Sometimes he didn’t know his own strength.)
They both took their seats, and Melli gestured forward. "Well? Talk."
That, at least, was something he could do. "I never intended any of my words to be an attack against you, hinted or otherwise. I am not the sort to bury a deeper meaning in my words, Melli-- what I say is what I mean. Always. The subtleties of conversation that you are so fond of elude me, and as far as my failing memory leads me to believe they always have. There is not an insult hidden behind my every word. On a similar track, I find it difficult to decipher the meanings behind the words of others. I work best in plainly spoken conversations."
"That's not really something I do.”
"As I have discovered. However, I am asking you to please try, particularly if I am mistaken in my assumptions.” He placed his hands flat on his knees. Sighed heavily. Talking was easy, simple, the words coming to him as easily as breathing. Or rearing Pokemon. “Regardless of your attitude towards me, I do appreciate your presence, Melli. I would likewise appreciate knowing exactly where you believe we stand.”
Melli started fidgeting again, wringing his hands together and running his fingers through the ends of his hair. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he actually spoke, and when he did his words were hesitant. Faltering; "I don't-- dislike you. I find your company… more agreeable than that of others. I don't simply tolerate you. I might even go so far as to say I actively seek you out. That is… why I am here. I could go to someone else, and frankly, the news I share doesn't interest me at all. But you always acted... distant, whenever we met, so I thought you wouldn't want to see me if I didn't have a good reason. But you seemed fine with it if I was here because I had information I thought you ought to know.”
Ingo's frown deepened. How far down did this line of miscommunication run? "I kept my distance because I was led to believe by your behavior that distance was what you wanted from me. Constantly insulting a man sends somewhat mixed signals."
“You mentioned that.”
He blinked. “I did?”
Melli hummed an affirmative. “I don't remember when. But I told you--”
“You’re a complex individual,” Ingo quoted as the Melli in his head echoed the one before him. “Right. And you have every right to be, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to draw conclusions based on the image you put forth. An image which you have been determined to keep standoffish for nearly the entirety of the time we’ve known each other.”
Shoulders hunching, Melli seemed to draw in on himself, tugging his hair in front of his face and looking away abashedly. Embarrassment wasn’t a good look on him.
With infinite care, Ingo reached forward and took hold of his wrists to pull his hands down. (He had such a graceful visage, it would be a shame to hide it.) “Melli, I respect you greatly. I think you’re a dedicated Warden and have the potential to be a skilled battler, should you choose to apply yourself. However, I cannot play these verbal games you so delight in. No matter how well I get to know you, I won’t be able to decipher the hidden meaning behind your words. And when you choose to bury your truth in insults and hostilities, that is what I hear.”
“If that’s the case, why do you bother letting me into your home all the time? Listening to me jabber on?” Melli’s hands twitched like he was going to pull away, and Ingo was fully prepared to allow him to do so, but such a thing never came to pass. Instead his fidgeting ceased, and he turned his hands over to lightly clasp Ingo’s own wrists in turn. “Why would you welcome someone you believe hates you?”
“Because I feel it is the right thing to do. Because I have found this world to be very cruel, so it is more important than ever that I am kind to those around me. Because this mountain is quite lonely, and you are the most lively thing on it, and I do not do well when left alone for long periods of time." Ingo shrugged half-heartedly. “There are a myriad of reasons, and the truest answer is that I saw no reason not to. Your insults never truly struck at my most vulnerable insecurities, and however much I did not care for the subject matter of others’ personal lives, the vigor with which you carried yourself throughout your spiels was... refreshing. I decided that the benefits of another’s company outweighed whatever mild sting your mockery might have caused.”
Melli stared at him for several moments, then shook his head. His voice was thick with disbelief; "You are so weird, you know that?"
"As I've been inf-- what are you doing?"
What he was doing, in fact, was pulling his hands away from their mutual hold so he could instead grab Ingo around the middle and haul him over onto the bed (or, more specifically, onto Melli’s lap) with a yelp he couldn't quite stifle. (And my, where did he find such strength in that wiry frame? Though maybe Ingo was just that badly undernourished.)
"Melli, what--"
"Oh, hush." Melli reached up to swipe his hat, setting it aside and cupping his face in both hands. Ingo immediately fell silent. Whether it was at the heed of Melli’s command or bewilderment at his audacity, though, he could not be certain. "I have something to say, Warden. And you'd better not get lost in your thoughts and zone out like you're prone to doing."
Unsure if he was still being directed to “hush,” Ingo simply nodded in lieu of risking interrupting his tangent.
"You've listened to me go on a lot, and-- by your words-- it wasn’t because you simply wanted to. Whether it was because you felt you should, or just because you were lonely, or whatever, you didn’t have to let me prattle on, but you did. And I'm not in the business of being indebted to people." He leaned closer. Ingo found himself briefly distracted by his eyes (and weren’t they just a lovely shade of blue?), but shook himself back into the present with a reminder that he'd been specifically asked to stay focused. "So unless you have any objections, I'm going to kiss you now. Both as repayment for all your kindness and because you're stupidly attractive when you're being chivalrous."
Ingo blinked. Melli stared down at him with an expression that was clearly trying to be haughty, but was somewhat waylaid by his inability to actually make eye contact and the flush painting his face in shades of pink.
At a loss for what else to say, Ingo weakly replied; "You don't have to do that. Please don’t feel like you owe me anything for a show of basic courtesy."
"Oh, for Sinnoh's sake. Didn't I just say I was also doing this because I think you're pretty? If you really don't want me to, fine, but don't you dare try to pull that selfless crap where you prioritize everyone's wants but your own."
Was he really that easy to read?
…Melli thought he was pretty?
"I," he said, eloquently. "Um."
Melli’s confidence wavered the longer he went without a response, his hands twitching where they still rested on Ingo's cheeks. The confident mask he’d been trying desperately to keep in place was rapidly slipping. "Please just say something. I'd rather be denied outright than embarrass myself like this. I've been told I can be too forward."
He thought Ingo was going to deny him. Deny the chance for intimacy that had been dropped in front of him, practically done up in a shiny bow. He couldn't remember ever caring much about physical relationships, for all that meant when said by an amnesiac. But the Highlands were cold, and Ingo was so very lonely. (One of the few memories he still had was of a constant warmth at his side, and more than once he’d found himself wishing for anything that could even come close to the feeling.)
"Yes," he said. "You can be. But where I make a habit of spinning tangents when a simple inquiry would do, such forwardness is greatly welcome. Also, please kiss me."
It was Melli's turn to blink at him owlishly. "What, really?"
"Yes."
Thankfully, Melli differed from Ingo in that he was not likely to conduct a dozen safety checks before actually engaging in such... matters. He double-checked with a moment’s hesitation as he leaned forward, but mere seconds after Ingo gave his affirmative, there was a pair of soft lips pressing against his own. Ingo all but melted into the contact.
He couldn't imagine where Melli would've had the chance to learn, given it seemed he had few friends among the people of Hisui, but Melli was quite skilled on this front. There was minimal awkward fumbling. He moved one hand down to rest on Ingo's shoulder, and reached over with the other to tug at the ribbon keeping his hair tied up so he could card his fingers through the newly freed locks.
"You need a haircut," Melli mumbled, "you look ridiculous."
"Later."
"Well, obviously." Amazingly (or, perhaps completely as expected), Melli could still talk while his mouth was otherwise occupied, though his mumbled words were slightly muffled by their preoccupation. “We’re sort of in the middle of something here. Not as though I’m going to drag you over to see Arezu right now. It would be the middle of the night by the time we got to the Mirelands, anyway, and I don’t want to deal with the questions Adaman would ask if I turned up with one of the Pearl Clan’s--”
“Melli.”
“Right,” he said. “Shutting up.”
“I like hearing you talk,” Ingo said, willing to interrupt only for the purpose of making sure Melli wasn’t discouraged by his chastisement. “It’s reassuring.”
“It’s--”
“But not right now.”
“Sure. Not now.”
Ingo closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them he found himself on his back, Melli leaning over him. His loose bangs created a lavender curtain around them that made it quite easy for Ingo to just forget about the rest of the world for a little while and lose himself in the affections being doled out.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd had contact with another person like this. Given he lacked the majority of his memories from any time before a couple years ago, this was not altogether too strange, however it did still mean that he found himself damn near insatiable for more. He'd never craved contact much. The Pearl Clan put a heavy emphasis on personal space, respecting one's boundaries, and Ingo had never seen a need to challenge that. He was quickly realizing such a stance was mostly owing to the fact that he simply hadn't realized what he was missing. (The warmth he remembered... was it those purple flames that flickered at the edges of his mind, or did it have something to do with the face very much like his own that haunted him day and night?)
(He couldn’t remember. He didn’t want to remember. Not right now. It hurt too much.)
"Melli," he said, far needier than a grown man had any right to sound, and reached up to grab at the other Warden's shirt. "Can-- May I--"
"Use your words, Warden."
"Can I have a hug please," he said, all in one fell swoop.
That was clearly not what Melli had been expecting, given the confusion in his expression, and Ingo regretted asking almost immediately. He sounded like a child. Ridiculous. He'd gone this long without any kind of physical contact, and now that he'd gotten the barest hint of it (though perhaps calling all that a "hint" of anything was somewhat inaccurate) he was practically tripping over himself to beg for more.
"You don't have to--"
"What did I say about all that selfless business, hm?" Melli leaned back, hooking his hands around Ingo's shoulders to haul him upright and pull him back up onto his lap. (Maybe Ingo did need to eat more. It was far too easy for Melli to sling him around like a sack of oran berries.) "It's okay to ask for what you want. Stop trying to cater to everyone else and think about yourself once in a while. Take some pointers from me."
Melli's arms were wound tight around him, his hold as secure as steel, and Ingo barely managed to keep from collapsing against him. The contact sent a prickling feeling over his skin, almost uncomfortable if it weren't for the utter contentment he felt at the same time.
It was then he decided that wherever he'd come from, he must have had regular contact with other people. This was far too familiar for him to believe otherwise.
He clung to Melli with more force than was likely comfortable, but as an apology made its way to the tip of his tongue, Melli chose that moment to lean down and kiss him again. Far gentler than he had done earlier. Whether he'd done it simply because he wanted to or because he knew Ingo was about to say something stupid again, Ingo couldn't be certain.
"I'd appreciate not having to make up excuses to see you," Melli said. "I can't promise I'll always be this open and honest with my feelings-- I find it challenging at the best of times. But for you, I could try."
"I appreciate honesty, but I wouldn't ask you to try and be someone you're not," Ingo replied. His thought process was kind of hazy at the moment, between the kissing and the contact in general, but he could get his words together. This was important. "Especially not for me. I like you precisely as you are."
"Of course you do." He curled a hand around the side of Ingo's neck, laughing softly when Ingo leaned into it like a Glameow seeking attention. "You're such a good person. It's kind of sickening."
"I--"
"I mean that in the best way possible, of course. One of us has to be."
That resonated to a degree which brought Ingo down from where his mind was drifting, and he looked to Melli with a frown. “You’re a good person as well, Melli.”
He raised a brow. “I don’t need to be placated.”
“Do you truly think you aren’t?” He sat up straight, setting his hands on Melli’s shoulders to balance himself. This conversation would probably be better had in a less intimate position, one where Ingo wasn’t seated on his lap, but this was where they’d ended up and his piece would be said, no matter what. “Of course you are. I will be the first to admit that you may not be the nicest of individuals, but there is a key difference between being nice and being good. You are standoffish, and hostile, and disdainful to those around you. But you are not a bad person.”
Ingo barreled right through Melli’s following scoff. “Even if it is not clear in the way you treat other people, it is clear in the way you treat your Pokemon. Both those in your care, and those who you serve. You are kind to your own Pokemon, despite-- or perhaps in spite of-- the features they possess which would normally drive others away. You think most of Hisui’s populace would willingly mingle with Poison types as easily as you do? And, to Lord Electrode and his kin, you are ceaselessly reverent. You hold your Noble in the highest regard, and treat him with far more than just the respect it deserves. You are devoted to your Clan and your deity. Even your attempts to aggravate me are done with the happiness of others in mind.”
“Now, hold on,” Melli said, stern despite how much he was clearly struggling to remain aloof. “I will accept that I... may not be exactly as bad as many believe, but don’t draw conclusions where there are none to be drawn. I thought you didn’t do subtext?”
“I don’t. Every word I speak is based on motivations that have been made clear through your actions, or things you have outright said.” He leaned back to point as he spoke, a habitual gesture that he only belatedly realized might lead to some balance issues. Before he could tumble backwards and ruin a very sentimental moment with another concussion, Melli idly set a hand on his back to steady him.
Oh.
Oh, dear.
“Well, go on,” Melli said, gesturing vaguely as Ingo sat there silently. “I’m listening. Continue to flatter me.”
“Right,” Ingo replied. “Wait, no. That is--”
Melli cackled at his fumbling, and he found it hard to be either annoyed at his own incapability or irritated by the mockery. He was just too comfortable to be at all dissatisfied. “Ooh, did I leave you speechless?”
In lieu of stuttering through another failed attempt at continuing, he simply placed a hand over Melli’s mouth to allow himself a moment to gather his thoughts. And if he needed any reassurance at all that Melli did actually like him as much as his words (and actions) would indicate, the fact that Melli did not lick his hand or do something equally immature spoke measures.
“If you will pardon my delay,” he said, firmly, “I do not do subtext. But I do listen when you speak, and so I am well aware that however much you choose to disturb the torches in Wayward Cave simply to draw my ire, you are correct in that they do disturb the habitats of the Pokemon who live there.”
It was an unfortunate result of humanity and Pokemon intermingling-- sometimes, one must infringe upon the other's territory. (The feeling was a familiar one, though its source remained lost to the haze that once might have been a complete set of memories.)
“I’m mostly doing that to get on your nerves.”
“But the fact of the matter remains that you are helping the Pokemon there, even if it is not for the right reasons.” Ingo did his best to aim for a smile. He wasn’t sure he quite landed on the mark, based on the way Melli squinted at him, but he hoped the intent came across all the same. “You are not nice. But you are good. And of the two, I am of the firm belief that the latter is far more important. Once can be pleasant to be around while simultaneously holding ideals that would shock you for how cruel they are.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“...Really, now, Melli, there’s no need for that.”
“Right, yes, sorry.”
“My point is,” Ingo said, even though he had already kind of summarized his point, and so he faltered briefly before marching on full steam ahead; “My point is, you are not as bad as you think you are, and you are not as bad as the harsh words of others have made you believe. While it is true that one can always try to be better than they were, that does not mean you should change who you are simply to appease the standards of others. There will be talk, when someone is different. There always is.”
Ingo reached down to set his hand over Melli’s own.
“But you do not have to face it alone.”
No one should have to face that alone.
(Had Ingo been alone? Or had that mirror image, that man who looked like him, been there at his side? Only time would tell. Or space, he supposed. Whichever was feeling more generous.)
“Like I said,” Melli interrupted his drifting thoughts with an amused roll of his eyes, a fond sigh. “ Sickeningly good.”
“Well,” Ingo mused. “Perhaps.”
“I should probably do something about that. Can’t have Adaman think I’m settling down or something, he’ll be insufferable about it.” Melli picked up Ingo’s long-discarded hat, flipping it over in his hands before placing it on his own head. It looked ridiculous, over his hood. It was also adorable. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Oh, yes, and what a shame it would be to mar that spotless display.”
“Hey--”
“I’m afraid, Warden Melli,” Ingo said, reaching up to retrieve his stolen property and return it to its rightful place atop his own head, “that your image is on track to be soundly ruined.”
Melli sighed, heavy and dramatic, leaning forward to drape his arms around Ingo’s shoulders. “Oh well,” he said, forlornly, voice slightly lost where he’d hidden his face in the outgrown curls of Ingo’s hair. “I suppose that’s just how these things are.”
Ingo laughed.
“Yes,” he replied. “I suppose it is.”