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“How come you won’t touch me?”
Corbeau looks at you, pointedly.
“Not like that, you dirty-brained fool,” you tell him. Despite the dismissal, you can’t stop the slight flush that rises to your cheeks.
The two of you sit in his office of the Rust Syndicate; you're sitting on one of the surprisingly plush couches even though they're made of fine leather, and Corbeau sits a distance away from you at his traditional desk.
“You never hold my hand first; you never initiate a hug; you don’t caress my face; I get it, some people aren’t touchy feely, but I just wonder why? We’ve been together long enough that the shyness of touching one another should have worn off by now.”
When you look back to Corbeau he looks pensive, stressed, or guilty even. Like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Scolipede clacks over from where it had been resting in its bed in the office, sensing its trainer’s unrest. It nudges its horns against Corbeau’s shoulder gently.
“See?” you continue, “with Scolipede you don’t tense up like you do with me. When I hold your hand, it's like I’m holding the hand of a muscly Machoke!” You laugh. “It’s not that I don't like holding your hand even if it is tough as bricks, but i just wonder why you act like this around me and not Scolipede, or any of your other pokemon or mine for that matter! Do I make you that uncomfortable?”
Cobeau looks at you with wide eyes and quickly interjects. “No, no. You have it all wrong. You could never make me uncomfortable.”
Your own ace pokemon, an Absol approaches from where it was cuddled up with Scolipede and rests its head in your lap. You stay silent, waiting for Corbeau to continue. When he doesn’t, instead pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, glasses askew on his face, you break the silence.
“It’s just you and me here,” you say encouragingly. You let a gentle smile grace your facial features, hoping it will help him to open up. Corbeau looks at you with one eye, head still in his hand.
“You’ll hate me if I say,” he tells you, voice barely above a whisper.
“Never,” you tell him softly. “Nothing could make me hate you.”
After another beat he speaks again. “I don’t know how.”
“You don’t know how?” you repeat, curiously.
Corbeau sighs. “I don’t know how to show affection.”
Your brain flashes back to moments between you and him: Corbeau clearing his schedule to spend the day with you; a gift of various pokeballs before you went catching pokemon in areas surrounding Lumiose CIty; how he is always sure to reassure you when you are down.
“Yes, you do,” you tell him. “You show me affection all the time!”
Corbeau looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Maybe your love language isn’t physical touch,” you add, having a light bulb moment.
“My love- what?”
“Your love language! There are five of ‘em, one being physical touch,” you explain.
“What are the other ones?” he asks, now intrigued.
“Words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, and acts of service,” you supply.
Corbeau takes a moment to think.
“And you think I fit into these other 'categories..?'" he says, using air quotes with his fingers.
“Don’t you remember just last week you cleared your schedule all because I said I wanted to try that new ice cream place that opened in Jaune District? And the week before that it was raining when we came out of dinner so you offered me your suit jacket to hold over my head so my makeup wasn’t ruined?”
Corbeau nods in agreement, seeming to recall the instances you mentioned.
“Those are both parts of your love language!” you exclaim, likely far too loudly for the quiet office space.
A small smile graces his face. “I see.”
“But back to my earlier point- why do you freeze when I touch you?” you redirect the conversation. Corbeau let out a breath he was holding and reached a hand to scratch Scolipede under its chin, a favourite spot you now know. You see Corbeau's shoulders relax some tension as Scolipede leans into his touch.
“You know that I grew up alone for the most part,’ Corbeau starts softly. You nod, not sure if Corbeau can even see your action: this is information that he shared with you soon on even knowing each other, not yet in a relationship.
He continues. “I also grew up with very little human contact. By the time I met Lysandre, I was well into my teen years.” Corbeau doesn't make eye contact with you rather, he stares at the blissed out content face of his Scolipede, chattering happily at his ministrations. “The most contact I had was with Pokemon, this one in front of me mainly, back when it was still a Venipede.” Scolipede chitters louder, sensing its being talked about. Corbeau smiles softly. A fond memory must have crossed his mind. However, his smile soon fades when he speaks again.
“To be honest, I don't know how to interact with others very well. It's easier to put on an angry face and intimidate people rather than really get to know them and their stories.”
“You don't scare me,” you say softly.
With a gentle pat to Absol's head, you pad across the room to where Corbeau and Scolipede stand, and gently place a hand on his tense shoulder. He freezes at the sudden contact, but as the moments pass, he relaxes into your touch.
Corbeau shakes his head and now focuses his gaze upon your hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You deserve better than what I can offer.” His once solemn face almost looks saddened as he says those words.
The hand on his shoulder you lift to cup his face. His eyes meet you finally, filled with emotions that still go unspoken.
“Do you really think I wouldn’t be with you if I didn't love every part of you?”
He reaches the hand not resting on Scolipede to cup your hand which rests against the side of his face.
“I don't deserve you,” Corbeau says.
“Yes you do,” you respond.
He turns his face, pressing a light kiss to the inside of your palm. It tickles, but you remain still, savouring the moment.
“See, you're a natural.” You stare at Corbeau fondly.
“For you, I'll learn,” he vows.
“And I'll be there to help you every step.”
You place both your hands on the sides of his face, caressing his sideburns, and stare into his amber eyes. He covers your other hand with his as well.
“Every step…” you repeat, leaning in to seal your promise with a gentle kiss.