Work Text:
Applin’s Poké Ball feels cold and clammy in Kieran’s hands. Despite the mild spring weather, he can’t help but tremble a little in fevered anticipation.
Finally, he looks up at Florian - the dazzling object of his desires, the boy whom he’s been crushing on for months.
Florian’s pretty brown eyes widen in recognition of the eye contact - Kieran’s never been particularly good at it, of course, but since Terapagos he’s been getting better.
He’s no longer that wide-eyed kid shying behind his big sister, but he wonders if Florian still sees him as that shrinking violet all the same.
“Ah, right–” Kieran begins quietly. He’s never been good at starting conversations without sounding as awkward as a babbling Psyduck. “I do have a favor I wanna ask you…”
Florian’s eyes light up, and his dazzling gaze makes Kieran bite his lip. A prickling flush creeps up his cheeks.
He has no idea where he’s finding the courage to do this right now - every cell in his body is screaming at him to run.
“If it’s all right, do you wanna, um…”
He bites down hard on his gloved knuckle, a flap of fabric already loosened by the nervous habit. His other hand knocks frantically against his thigh, but the new rhythm does little to slow the rapid beating of his heart. It doesn’t have to be so hard, but Kieran, the chronic idiot overthinker that he is, makes it so.
“Do you… wanna trade Pokémon with me?” The words tumble out of Kieran’s mouth. He flinches, anticipating Florian’s bitter rejection. Why would he ever make a trade with him, after everything they’ve been through?
Kieran has admired him, hated him, wanted him, sometimes all at once.
Despite Florian’s promise to start over from zero and be friends again, Kieran hasn’t been able to shake the feeling that he’s been more distant. Those normally dazzling smiles seem all the more artificial and forced, and his usually kind words lack their warmth and sincerity.
“Sure!”
Florian’s reply breaks his overlong train of thought, sending it crashing straight into a cliff somewhere in the nooks of his brain, and leaving Kieran momentarily confused within the rubble. He wonders if he has imagined it.
When nothing happens to him, Kieran returns the smile, bracing himself. Now for the real hard part.
He pries his frozen fingers away from the Poké Ball in his hands, and, hands shaking, holds it up for Florian to see.
“I'll trade my Applin! What about you, Florian?”
Unfazed, Florian smiles, and takes a pink Poké Ball out of his bag in a smooth, practised motion.
“That’s funny, I’ve got an Applin here too!”
Without thinking, Kieran continues, “OK, so you wanna trade your Applin…?”
Wait.
Florian is giving him an Applin.
Florian is giving him an Applin?!
Despite himself, panic bubbles into his chest.
“What… What’re you doin’?”
Kieran, clawing his way to the surface of the sea of his own thoughts, finds himself gasping for breath as he says, “do you know… do you know what it means, giving me a-an…!?”
Florian grabs Kieran’s trembling wrists, placing the pink Poké Ball that some corner of Kieran’s frazzled mind recognises as a Love Ball into his hands.
“Kieran,” Florian breathes, “I'm from Galar. Of course I do.” He leans in closer and closer, until their lips almost touch.
“Kieran, I really like you…” Florian’s warm breath tickles Kieran’s cheek.
His heart's pounding against his chest, yearning to break free and be Florian’s.
“I…”
Suddenly, Florian’s lips press firmly onto his, and they’re kissing, oh, they’re kissing, and it’s everything that Kieran’s ever wanted and more, and all he can think is Florian, Florian, Florian…
Florian puts his strong, firm hands onto Kieran’s waist. Kieran closes his eyes and leans into the touch, a shiver running up his spine and electrifying his brain.
The way that Florian’s palms fit perfectly into the little nook below Kieran’s hip bone, it’s like they were always meant to be.
Florian is his, and will be his, now and forevermore…
Pulling away, He opens his eyes to gaze at Florian’s beautiful face once more…
…but is greeted by his dorm room ceiling instead, the taste of Florian lingering on his lips.
But… but it felt so real... Kieran wipes the stray tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
He sighs and fumbles for his bedside clock, which lights up and tells him that it’s still 5:30 in the morning. He has to get up at seven for breakfast, but he knows he’ll never be able to go back to sleep like this.
All he can do is lie in bed, think about what could have been, and eventually when the tears come again, he won’t let them stop this time.