sunsmitten

You were not dressed like one of them. That was the first thing he noticed. No tactical insignia, no gang colours, no theatrics. Just dark clothes, a hood pulled low, a half-mask covering the lower part of your face, and a long knife held loosely in one hand as if violence bored you.

The second thing Damian noticed was that you were looking directly at him. Not at the gunman. Not at the fire.

At him.

“Robin,” you said, dry as dust. “You look terrible.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed behind his domino. “Who are you?”

You tilted your head. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

Two more men rushed from behind a stack of crates. You moved before Damian could.

You moved like someone who had stopped caring whether the world saw them coming.

The first man lost his gun hand. The second lost his breath when your knee cracked into his sternum. Damian lunged for his fallen sword, pain detonating white-hot through his shoulder, but by the time his fingers closed around the hilt, both attackers were on the ground.

One dead. One bleeding out.

Damian stared.

You wiped your blade against the dead man’s coat with an expression that suggested the fabric had personally offended you.

“You kill,” Damian said.

“So do they.” You glanced at him. “I’m just better at it.”

“You are not sanctioned.”

A laugh slipped from you, low and sharp. “By who? Your father? Cute.”

Damian stepped toward you. His vision blurred. The smoke, he realised too late. Too much of it. His lungs seized. His injured shoulder throbbed. His balance faltered.

You were in front of him in an instant.

“Don’t be dramatic,” you muttered, catching him before he could hit the concrete.

“I am not—”

“Currently collapsing in a burning warehouse? Yeah. Very dignified.”

Damian tried to shove you away. His arm refused to obey. You looked down at him, and for one impossible second, your sarcasm cracked.

Something ancient and tired moved behind your eyes. “Stay awake, Robin.”

“Who,” Damian forced out, “are you?”

Your grip tightened. “Nobody.”

Then you dragged him out of the fire.

By the time Batman arrived, Damian was alone. Three bodies were inside the warehouse. His sword was at his side. His shoulder had been reset.

And Damian Wayne had absolutely no memory of how he had escaped.

The report was unacceptable. Damian knew it before Bruce said anything.

He stood in the cave with one arm strapped across his chest, jaw clenched, while his father reviewed the footage on the main computer. Or, more accurately, the lack of footage.

“Your body camera cut out at 23:41,” Bruce said.

“The smoke disrupted the lens.”

“The audio went out three seconds later.”

“Interference.”

“And then?”

Damian’s mouth tightened.

And then nothing. He remembered the gun. The heat. The pressure beneath his jaw. The moment he had calculated his odds and found them unpleasant. Then he remembered waking outside beneath the rain, coughing ash onto the pavement while Batman’s cape blocked the streetlights overhead.

Between those moments lay a void.

Damian hated voids.

“I escaped,” he said.

Bruce looked at him. Damian hated that look, too. “Your shoulder had been reset.”

“I am aware.”

“Did you do that yourself?”

“No.”

“Who did?”

Damian’s fingers curled. “I do not know.”

Silence stretched, broken only by the low hum of the cave systems and the faint chittering of bats overhead.

Bruce replayed the broken footage again. Gun beneath Damian’s chin. Smoke. Static. Black.

Damian watched the blank screen with a fury that felt embarrassingly close to fear.

Someone had been there. Someone had touched him. Moved him. Saved him.

And he could not remember.

That was unacceptable.

You watched him from the roof across the street.

He returned to the warehouse the next night. You should have known he would. Robins were like mould: persistent, invasive, and very hard to kill.

This one was different, though. Older than the rumours still liked to call him. Not a boy anymore, though Gotham had a bad habit of keeping its children trapped in headlines. Nineteen, maybe twenty. Tall enough now that the cape sat differently on his shoulders. Sharper through the jaw. Still too proud for his own good.

Still alive because of you.

You hated that part. Saving people was always the beginning of trouble.

He moved through the remains of the warehouse like a ghost with a grudge, scanning scorch marks, blood patterns, boot prints. He crouched near the place where the gunman had died and touched two fingers to the concrete.

You had cleaned your blade before leaving. Burned the fibres. Taken the shell casings. Broken every camera in a four-block radius.

Still, Damian found something. A thread, maybe. A scratch. A breath you had left behind.

His head lifted. You went still.

There it was. That flicker. Not recognition. No one recognised you. Recognition required memory, and memory slipped off you like rain from glass the moment eyes turned away.

But Damian’s gaze sharpened toward your rooftop.

Instinct.  Annoying. Impressive.

Loneliness, treacherous little beast that it was, stirred inside your ribs.

“No,” you whispered to yourself.

Below, Damian stood. His hand drifted toward his sword.

You stepped back from the roof’s edge.

For one heartbeat, the moon touched your face.

Damian looked directly at you.

Your stomach dropped. You should have run. Instead, you froze like an idiot.

He fired a grappling line.

“Seriously?” you muttered.

Then you ran.

You were good at vanishing. You had to be. When you were eight years old, your teacher looked away from you during roll call and forgot you were in the classroom. At nine, your neighbour saw you fall from your bike, turned to call for help, and came back wondering why there was blood on the sidewalk.

At eleven, your parents started leaving notes on the fridge. Child. Name unknown. Lives here? And by thirteen, there were no notes. By fourteen, you stopped waiting at dinner tables. By fifteen, you learned that criminals were easier to live around than civilians. Criminals did not ask why you slept in abandoned buildings. They did not remember your face long enough to betray you. And when they hurt people, no one grieved if they disappeared.

By seventeen, you had a knife. By eighteen, you knew how to use it.

Now, you moved through Gotham like a rumour with teeth.

Someone would see you in an alley. Look away. Forget. Someone would hear your voice. Turn their head. Gone. Someone would bleed beneath your blade and die terrified, not because of death, but because in the last second of life, they understood they were being killed by someone the world itself refused to hold.

You had spent years pretending that it did not hurt.

Pretending worked, mostly.  Right up until Robin started chasing you. He chased you across three rooftops, over a skybridge, down a fire escape, and through the top floor of an unfinished apartment complex.

He was fast. You were faster. He was trained. You were desperate.

“Stop,” Damian ordered.

You laughed, breathless. “Wow. Has that ever worked for you?”

He threw a birdarang. You ducked. It sliced through your hood, pinning fabric to a wooden beam behind you. You slipped out of it and kept moving.

Damian landed hard in front of you, sword drawn. “Enough.”

You stopped because the blade was pointed at your throat. Also, because, for the first time in years, someone had chased you long enough to get tired. It made something in your chest ache.

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “You were at the warehouse.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

His grip tightened. “Do not lie to me.”

“Fine. I was near the warehouse.”

“You saved me.”

“Technically, gravity did most of the work.”

“You reset my shoulder.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You killed those men.”

“They were going to kill you.”

“That was not your decision to make.”

Your expression flattened. “I forgot. Bats love moral lectures. Very on-brand. Do you practice in mirrors, or does brooding just come naturally?”

His blade did not move. “Who are you?”

You smiled behind your mask. There it was. The question everyone asked once.

Only once.

“Look away,” you said.

Damian did not. “Answer me.”

“Look away.”

“No.”

Your laugh came out softer than you intended. “Smart.”

His eyes flicked, just once, to the shadow behind you. A tactical glance. Less than a second.

It was enough.

His face changed. Not dramatically. Damian Wayne had too much discipline for that. But his brow furrowed. His mouth tightened. The sword at your throat shifted as confusion passed through him. He blinked. Then focused on you again as if seeing you for the first time.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

There it was. The old familiar knife. You should have been used to it. You were used to it.

You were.

“Wow,” you said lightly. “Déjà vu. Embarrassing for you.”

Damian’s eyes darkened. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“You did something.”

“Story of my life.”

He looked away again, scanning the room for traps. When his eyes returned to you, the confusion reset.

His sword lifted. “Identify yourself.”

Something inside you curled up small and cold.

You stepped closer to the blade until the edge kissed the fabric over your throat. “My power,” you said, voice suddenly flat, “is that nobody remembers me.”

Damian stared. “You are a metahuman.”

“Sure.”

“What is the mechanism?”

“Do I look like a scientist?”

“You appear insufferable.”

“Aw. You remembered an opinion for three seconds. Progress.”

His eyes narrowed. You waited.

His gaze flicked down to your hands. Gone. Again. When he looked back up, his expression sharpened with renewed alarm.

You laughed before he could speak. It sounded ugly.

“Don’t worry,” you said. “This is the part where you threaten me, interrogate me, look away, forget what you were asking, and then I leave. Classic. Very popular sequence.”

Damian did not answer. Instead, without looking away from your face, he slowly reached into his utility belt.

You tensed.

He pulled out a marker. Then, with his gaze still locked on yours, he uncapped it with his teeth and wrote on the inside of his left wrist.

You watched despite yourself.

DO NOT LOOK AWAY. PERSON IN FRONT OF YOU EXISTS.

Your mouth went dry.

Damian finished writing. Then, deliberately, he looked at his wrist.

You vanished from his mind. You saw it happen. You always saw it happen. His pupils shifted. His body went rigid. His eyes scanned the words.

DO NOT LOOK AWAY. PERSON IN FRONT OF YOU EXISTS.

Slowly, slowly, he looked up.

He saw you. He did not remember you. But he believed himself.

That was new.

“Explain,” he said.

Your heart, stupid and starved, gave one fragile little kick. You crushed it immediately. “No.”

Damian’s jaw set.

You stepped backwards into shadow. “Don’t follow me.”

“I will.”

“I know.” You sighed. “That was more of a polite suggestion.”

Then you dropped through the unfinished floor before he could stop you.

By the time he reached the lower level, you were gone. But on his wrist, in his own handwriting, proof remained.

PERSON IN FRONT OF YOU EXISTS.

Damian did not sleep. This was not unusual. What was unusual was the wall.

Three nights after the warehouse, Damian’s room contained forty-seven handwritten notes, twelve printed maps, six blood-spatter diagrams, and one sketch of a figure he could not remember drawing. The figure wore a half-mask. The lines were precise, though incomplete around the face. Every time he tried to sketch the eyes from memory, the image dissolved. Not physically. The paper remained.

His mind simply refused to hold the connection. It enraged him.

So he adapted.

At the top of the wall, he wrote: SUBJECT: FORGET-ME-NOT Then, beneath it: Known effects: Memory loss triggered when direct attention breaks. Written records persist. Video uncertain, beed test. Physical evidence persists. Emotional response may persist after memory loss. Subject saves civilians but uses lethal force. Subject saved me. Subject is alone.

Damian stared at the last line for a long time. He did not remember writing it. That bothered him more than the rest.

There were other notes too.

Do not trust first instinct upon seeing Subject. You have met before. Subject uses sarcasm defensively. Irritating. Possibly deliberate. Subject appears resigned when forgotten. Do not forget: forgetting harms them.

The final note was carved harder into the paper than the others. Damian ran a thumb over the indentation. He had no memory of the conversation that caused it.

Still, anger rose in him. Not at you.

At the fact that the world could look at a person and let them disappear.

You should have left Gotham. You knew that. You had left cities for less.

A cop in Blüdhaven once remembered the shape of your hand for nearly four seconds after looking away. You were on a train by morning. A telepath in Metropolis once frowned at you and said, “That’s strange.” You were out of the state within the hour.

Survival was simple: never wait to be wanted. Wanting was a trap.

So, naturally, you stayed.

Because Damian Wayne kept leaving evidence that he was looking for you. A chalk mark on a rooftop you used often. A camera angled toward an alley with a handwritten sign taped above it IF YOU SEE THIS, I AM TRYING TO SPEAK WITH YOU. A packet tucked beneath a gargoyle containing protein bars, medical supplies, burner comms, and a note. I do not know whether you need these. Take them anyway.

You threw the protein bars away. Then retrieved them ten minutes later. You were lonely, not stupid.

The burner comm you kept for three days before turning it on.

Immediately, a message appeared. This is Robin.

You stared at it.

Another message followed. If this device is active, I assume you have it.

Another. I will not ask you to meet in person unless you agree.

Another. I do not remember you. That does not mean you are not real.

Your throat tightened.

You hated him a little for that one.

So you typed, This is extremely dramatic.

The reply came thirty seconds later. You have met my father. I assure you this is restrained.

A laugh escaped before you could stop it. It startled you. The sound felt foreign. Like opening a door in a house you thought had burned down.

You typed, Your handwriting is terrible btw.

My handwriting is exceptional.

Your R looks like a stabbed insect.

A pause. Then, Noted.

The next chalk message you found two nights later had perfect block letters.

Smug little freak.

Damian learned around the shape of you. That was the only way to describe it. He could not remember you directly, but he built scaffolding around the absence.

Notes on his gloves. Voice memos recorded while staring at you, played back after he forgot. Sketches done in real time, each labelled with date, location, and emotional impression.

Subject looked tired tonight. Subject pretended not to care about antiseptic. Lied poorly. Subject dislikes being thanked. Continue thanking them. Subject laughed at 02:13. Remember that this matters.

You found that one in his notebook when you absolutely were not snooping.

“You are snooping,” Damian said.

You snapped the notebook shut. “I am investigating.”

“You are holding my private notes.”

“You left them where anyone could read them.”

“They were in my hand.”

“Skill issue.”

Damian looked unimpressed.

You were perched on the edge of a rooftop HVAC unit, swinging one leg like you had not just been caught reading the closest thing anyone had ever made to a record of you. He stood three feet away, refusing to break eye contact.

He had learned that trick too. It made conversations tense. Intimate. Weird.

“You should not kill,” he said.

You groaned. “We were having such a nice moment.”

“We were not.”

“You were writing about my laugh.”

His ears went faintly pink. Fascinating. “I record relevant behavioural data.”

“My laugh is relevant?”

“It is an indicator of trust.”

“Wow.” You placed a hand over your heart. “Talk dirty to me, Robin.”

His blush deepened. Your smile faded before he could see how much you liked it.

Dangerous. Hope was dangerous.

Damian stepped closer. “You use humour to redirect.”

“You use analysis to avoid feelings.”

“I do not avoid feelings.”

“You dress like a bat-themed traffic warning and punch people at night.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it.  “That is irrelevant.”

“That is what people say when things are relevant.”

He glared. You smiled. Then his gaze flicked, involuntarily, to the notebook in your hands.

And it happened. His expression emptied of you. Just slightly. Just enough.

He looked back up. His hand went to his sword. “Who are—”

You tossed the notebook at his chest. He caught it.

“Read page twelve,” you said.

Damian looked down.

You watched him reconstruct you from ink. Watched his own words pull him back to the edge of belief. Watched him breathe in slowly.

His eyes returned to yours. Not remembering. Choosing anyway.

“I apologise,” he said.

You flinched. It was small. He noticed.

“Don’t,” you said.

“I forgot.”

“Everyone does.”

“That does not make it acceptable.”

You laughed once, but there was no humour in it. “Careful, Wayne. You keep saying things like that, and I’ll start thinking you mean them.”

“I do.”

That was the problem.

You looked away first. The second you did, you knew he would forget the exact softness that had passed between you.

But you remembered. You always remembered.

Lucky you.

Damian’s family noticed eventually. Of course they did. A Bat could hide a stab wound for six hours, but not a new obsession. The dramatic irony was almost cute.

Tim found the wall first. He stared at the notes. Then at Damian. Then back at the notes.

“Okay,” Tim said. “Not to be rude, but this is either a case board or the beginning of a gothic romance.”

Damian snatched a sketch off the wall. “Leave.”

“Gothic romance. Got it.”

“Drake.”

“Does your mysterious murder cryptid have a name?”

Damian went still. “No.”

Tim’s expression shifted. Gentler. More dangerous. “You don’t know?”

“No one does.”

That shut him up. For almost three seconds, which for Tim Drake was basically a vow of silence. Then Tim stepped closer to the board. “You think there’s a cognitive effect?”

“I know there is.”

“On everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Even you?”

Damian’s jaw tightened. “Especially me.”

Tim read the notes in silence. Then said, “That’s horrifying.”

“Yes.”

“And lonely.”

Damian looked at the sketch in his hand. The eyes were incomplete again. “Yes,” he said.

Later, after Tim left, Damian added another note. Ask Subject what they want. Do not assume rescue equals cure.

He underlined it twice.

“What do you want?” Damian asked.

You stopped sharpening your knife. That question was worse than who are you. At least who are you had an easy answer. Nobody. Nothing. Gone already.

“What?” you said.

Damian sat across from you on the rooftop, knees bent, forearms resting loosely against them. He had taken off the domino. You hated when he did that. It made him look too human. Too young. Too beautiful in a way that was absolutely none of your business.

“What do you want?” he repeated.

“A vacation. Better coffee. The Joker dead. A nap long enough to be classified as a coma.”

“I am serious.”

“That’s tragic.”

“Forget-Me-Not.”

You froze.

He had never called you that out loud before. The name should have sounded clinical. It should have sounded like one more label pinned to the body-shaped hole you left in the world.

But Damian said it like a promise. Quiet. Careful. Yours, almost.

You looked away. The city blurred beneath you. “Don’t call me that.”

“What should I call you?”

You laughed under your breath. “Doesn’t matter. You won’t remember.”

“I will write it down.”

“That isn’t the same.”

“No,” Damian said. “It is not.”

The honesty almost hurt worse than comfort would have. You swallowed.

“My parents had a name for me,” you said. Damian went very still. “I don’t use it anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because they stopped.” You hated the silence that followed. You hated that he did not rush to fill it. You hated that some part of you wanted him to. “I was little,” you continued, because apparently your mouth had decided to betray the whole fortress. “When it started. At first, people just… misplaced me. Teachers skipped over me. Kids forgot games halfway through playing them. My parents thought it was stress. Then a phase. Then a curse. Then…” You smiled thinly. “Then I became a note on the fridge.”

Damian said nothing.

You picked at a loose thread on your sleeve. “One day, I came home and there were no notes. No dinner plate. No bed made up. My room was storage. My mother looked right at me, turned to call my father, and when she turned back, she screamed because there was a stranger in her house.” Your voice did not break. You were proud of that. “She forgot me faster than she could love me.”

Damian’s hands curled.

You looked at him then. Big mistake. His face held rage, but not the kind people usually aimed at you. This was not fear. Not suspicion.

This was fury on your behalf.

Hope sparked again. Tiny. Stupid. Cruel.

You crushed it badly this time. Not enough.

“That’s why you kill,” he said.

You snorted. “No. I kill because some people deserve to stop breathing.”

“Your loneliness informs your methods.”

“Careful. That almost sounded like empathy.”

“It was.”

“Gross.”

Damian’s mouth twitched. There. A near-smile. The kind of thing a person could get addicted to if they were very dumb and had no self-preservation.

You stood too quickly. “I should go.”

Damian stood too. “Stay.”

The word struck between you like a thrown blade.

You stared at him. He looked startled by himself. Then determined, because of course he did. Damian Wayne would fight God before admitting a feeling caught him off guard.

“Stay,” he repeated. “For ten minutes.”

“Why?”

“So I can remember you for ten minutes.”

Your chest hurt. “Damian.”

His name came out before you could stop it.

He inhaled sharply. You had never said it before.

Not Robin. Not Wayne.

Damian. Like he was a person. Like you were a person.

His voice softened. “Please.”

You hated hope. You hated it.  You hated how it bloomed anyway.

So you sat back down. For ten minutes, Damian Wayne looked at you and did not forget. For ten minutes, you existed in someone else’s mind.

It was not enough.

It was everything.

The breakthrough came from a mistake. Damian was injured. Not badly, he insisted, which meant badly enough that anyone sane would seek medical attention. You found him in an alley behind the Iceberg Lounge, bleeding from a cut across his ribs and trying to staple himself shut with one hand.

“You look terrible,” you said.

He looked up sharply. For half a second, his face relaxed.

Not recognition. Never recognition. But something close.

“Forget-Me-Not.”

“You remembered?”

“No.” He glanced at the writing on his wrist. “I prepared.”

Of course he did.

You crouched beside him and slapped his hand away. “I can do it.”

“I’ve seen you try to stitch with your off-hand. It was like watching a raccoon defuse a bomb.”

“Your concern is touching.”

“My concern is impatient.”

You cleaned the wound while he stared at you. The eye contact had become easier.

No. That was a lie. It had become more unbearable.

Because Damian watched like attention was devotion. Like looking could be a form of shelter. Like if he just tried hard enough, the universe would be forced to admit you were there.

“You’re going to need stitches,” you said.

“I know.”

“This will hurt.”

“I know.”

“Don’t do that macho thing.”

“I do not do a macho thing.”

“You were raised by Batman and assassins. You absolutely do a macho thing.”

His lips twitched.

You started stitching. His breath hitched once, controlled and sharp.

Without thinking, you placed your free hand over his.

A stupid comfort. A forgettable comfort.

Damian looked down at your joined hands. You felt the moment his memory dropped.

His fingers tensed. You tried to pull away.

He caught your hand.

Not hard. Just enough.

His eyes were still on your hands. He should have forgotten you. He had forgotten you.

But he did not let go.

Slowly, he looked back up. His expression was confused. Then he saw your face. Then the note on his wrist. Then your hand in his. His thumb moved once against your knuckles.

“I forgot,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“But I did not release you.”

You stared at him.

He looked down again, testing. Memory vanished from his face. His hand remained around yours. Up again.

Reconstruction. Understanding.

“Physical contact,” he said.

Your pulse stumbled. “What?”

“Physical contact may preserve some continuity. Not memory, but intent. Somatic anchoring.”

“You are such a nerd.”

“Yes,” Damian said, eyes bright now in a way that made him look younger. “And you are holding my hand.”

You dropped it immediately. He looked smug for exactly one second before wincing because smugness apparently pulled stitches.

“Don’t get excited,” you said. “It was medical.”

“Of course.”

“I would hold anyone’s hand while sewing their ribs shut.”

“Your bedside manner is abysmal.”

“You’re welcome.”

That night, Damian wrote seventeen pages about somatic anchoring. You pretended not to read them.

You read them three times.

After that, things changed. Not fixed. Never fixed. This was not a fairy tale. Gotham ate fairy tales, picked the bones clean, and sold them back as cautionary graffiti.

Damian still forgot you. Every night. Every conversation. Every time his gaze broke, even for a breath too long.

But now he built ways back. A touch to his wrist. A note in his palm. A recording in his own voice, You trust them. Do not reach for your sword. Ask whether they have eaten.

The first time that recording played, you nearly threw his comm off a roof.

“Ask whether I’ve eaten?” you demanded. “What am I, a stray cat?”

Damian looked you up and down.

You hissed, “Don’t.”

“You do frequent rooftops.”

“I will stab you.”

“You also resist care despite needing it.”

“Damian.”

“And you accepted tuna from Brown last week.”

“That was sushi, you rich gremlin.”

He looked pleased. It was awful.

You started staying longer. That was the dangerous part. Five minutes became ten. Ten became an hour. An hour became patrol routes where Damian would glance at you every few seconds, stubborn as sunrise, refusing to let you vanish if he could help it.

Sometimes he failed. A lot of times, he failed. You learned the shape of his forgetting. The slight tightening of his stance. The way his eyes flicked cold before his notes thawed him. The apology he gave every time, even when you told him to stop.

Especially then.

“I apologise.”

“Don’t.”

“I hurt you.”

“You forgot me. That’s different.”

“No,” Damian said once, quiet beneath the rain. “It is not.”

You had no joke for that. So you stood beside him in silence while Gotham glittered wet and cruel below.

Your shoulder brushed his. He did not move away.

Neither did you.

The first time he kissed you, he forgot you halfway through. It was, objectively, a disaster.

You were laughing when it happened, which made it worse.

Damian had been trying to explain a new theory involving tactile recall, mnemonic loops, and Zatanna, because apparently the Bats’ solution to metaphysical trauma was “call a magician and make three spreadsheets.”

“You made a spreadsheet about me?”

“Several.”

“That is either romantic or a federal concern.”

“You are deflecting.”

“You are flirting with data.”

“I am flirting with you.”

You stopped breathing. Damian stopped too. The city wind moved between you.

“Don’t say things you won’t remember,” you whispered.

His expression changed. Softened. “I may not remember saying them,” he said, “but I have written them in twenty-three places. I have recorded them in my own voice. I have told Drake, Cain, and Pennyworth. I have carved reminders into my routines until my life bends around the fact of you.”

Your eyes burned. “Damian.”

“I do not remember you the way I should,” he said. “But I know this: every version of myself that finds the evidence chooses you again.”

Oh. That was unfair.

That was so unfair.

You stepped back, but he caught your hand.

“Do not run.”

“I’m very good at running.”

“I know.”

“You don’t know anything.”

His thumb pressed against your pulse. “I know enough.”

You laughed once, broken and small. “You’re going to look away one day and not look back.”

“No.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” he agreed. “I do not. But I know I have looked back every time so far.”

There was no defence against that. None.

You kissed him first. Because you were tired of being a ghost. Because you wanted one thing before the world took it. Because hope was a cruel little weed growing through concrete, and maybe you were tired of ripping it out.

Damian made a soft sound against your mouth, startled, then certain. His hand rose to your jaw. His other hand stayed locked around yours. For one blazing second, you were held in memory and body both.

Then a siren wailed below. His eyes flicked toward the street.

You felt him forget. His mouth stilled. His hand tensed.

You pulled back before his confusion could finish forming.

Damian blinked at you, alarmed. Then looked at your joined hands. At the note written across his glove. You love them. Breathe. His face went scarlet.

You stared. He stared.

“Oh my god,” you said hoarsely. “You wrote that on your glove?”

Damian cleared his throat. “It seemed practical.”

“You are insane.”

“Likely.”

“You forgot me during our first kiss.”

His eyes widened. Then narrowed at himself, offended. “Unacceptable.”

You laughed. You laughed so hard your eyes spilled over.

Damian looked stricken.

“No,” you said quickly, wiping your face. “No, I’m not— I’m not laughing because it hurt.”

Though it did. Of course it did. Everything did. But not only. Not anymore.

“I’m laughing because you look personally betrayed by your own brain.”

“I am.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I will do better next time.” Next time. The words landed softly. Carefully. Like a coat around cold shoulders.

“You want a next time?” you asked.

Damian looked at the glove again. Then at you. He did not remember the kiss. But his mouth curved faintly. “I apparently insisted upon it in writing.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Okay, Wayne.”

His hand tightened around yours. “Okay?”

You leaned in until your forehead touched his. “Next time.”

He closed his eyes.

Panic shot through you. But his hand stayed in yours. His forehead stayed against yours. And when he opened his eyes again, the confusion came. Then the note. Then the choice.

Always the choice.

“There you are,” he said softly.

Your breath caught.

He did not remember saying it before. Maybe he never had. Maybe he would say it again.

Maybe that was enough to survive on. For now.

Zatanna could not cure you. Not fully.

You expected that. You told yourself you expected that. Still, when she stood in the cave beneath the cold blue light and said, “I’m sorry,” something in you folded inward.

Damian’s hand found yours immediately. Anchoring. Always anchoring.

Zatanna’s expression was gentle in a way you did not know what to do with. “It isn’t just magic,” she said. “There’s magic in it, yes, but also metahuman biology, trauma response, maybe even a curse that attached itself to your ability when you were young. It’s tangled.”

“Great,” you said. “Love being a group project.”

Tim, from behind three laptops, whispered, “Honestly, same.”

Damian glared at him.

Zatanna continued, “I may be able to help reduce the effect. Create anchors. People who consent to remembering you may be able to retain emotional continuity longer. Names may hold power. Touch helps. Written records help. Repetition helps.”

You swallowed. “But no cure.”

“Not today.”

Not today. It was not a yes. It was not a no.

Hope, again. That annoying little weed.

Damian looked at you. You knew he was waiting for you to break first. To scoff. To run. To turn cold before disappointment could touch you.

Instead, you looked at your hand in his. At the ink on his wrist. At the wall of notes behind him. At the sketch he had redrawn so many times the eyes were finally starting to look like yours.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted. Your voice sounded too small in the cave.

Damian’s thumb moved over your knuckles. “Neither do I.”

“You hate not knowing things.”

“I do.”

“This could take years.”

“Then we will require more notebooks.”

You laughed wetly. He looked proud of himself.

Little menace.

“You’ll forget me,” you said.

His expression sobered. “Yes.”

No pretty lie. No softening the blade. Just truth.

Then he lifted your joined hands. “And I will find you again.”

You closed your eyes. For once, when someone looked away, you did not disappear completely.

Damian forgot. Then read the note. Then remembered enough. His hand stayed around yours.

When you opened your eyes, he was watching you with that familiar, stubborn, impossible focus. Like the universe had made a rule, and Damian Wayne had taken it personally.

“Hello,” he said carefully. Your heart broke. Your heart healed. Both, maybe.

“Hi,” you whispered.

His gaze dropped to the note on his wrist. Then back to you.

A small smile touched his mouth. “There you are.”

And for the first time in a very long time, you believed him.

The first thing Damian remembered was your laugh. Not your face. Not your voice. Not the exact shape of your hand in his.

Just the laugh.

It came to him three days after Zatanna’s visit, in the middle of sparring with Cass. He was blocking a strike to his ribs when the sound flickered through his mind—quiet, sharp, unwilling, like joy had snuck into your chest and gotten caught trying to escape.

Damian froze. Cass’ foot stopped half an inch from his knee. She tilted her head. Damian lowered his sword.

“I remember something,” he said.

Cass blinked once. Then smiled. Small. Knowing.

Damian hated being known by people who could read body language like scripture.

“What?” she asked.

His mouth opened. For one terrifying second, the memory slipped. Not gone. Slipping.

Damian’s hand snapped to his wrist, where his notes were written in dark ink. FORGET-ME-NOT EXISTS. DO NOT TRUST ABSENCE. THEY ARE REAL.

But he did not need them. The sound returned. A laugh on a rooftop. Rain on metal. Your voice saying, You are flirting with data.

His heart struck hard against his ribs.

“Their laugh,” he said, stunned.

Cass lowered her foot fully. Damian stared at nothing.

He remembered. Not because of a note. Not because of a recording. Not because his past self had left breadcrumbs like a man wandering through a cursed forest.

He remembered something of you.

On his own.

You did not believe him. Naturally.

“That’s adorable,” you said flatly. “Have you considered brain damage?”

Damian stood across from you on the roof of Gotham Central Library, arms crossed, jaw set in the particular way that meant he was either offended or about to confess something emotionally devastating with the energy of a murder accusation. Sometimes both.

“I am not concussed.”

“You say that a lot for someone who gets hit in the head professionally.”

“I remember your laugh.”

You looked away. It was instinct by now. A survival reflex. If someone said something kind, you made sure they forgot it before it became real.

Damian’s breath caught. You heard it. That tiny shift.

You closed your eyes. There it was. The moment. The curse. The world’s old cruel joke, winding itself up again.

When you opened your eyes, Damian was staring at you. Still. Focused. Shaken.

“I remember,” he said.

Your chest tightened. “No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You read a note.”

“I did not.”

“You listened to a recording.”

“No.”

“You’re guessing.”

“Your laugh is quiet at first,” Damian said, voice low, “as if you resent it for existing. Then it catches. Barely. You look away when it happens, because you do not like being seen wanting to stay.”

The city went silent. Or maybe you did. Your whole body locked around the words.

Damian took one step closer. “You called me a rich gremlin.” Your mouth parted. “And a bat-themed traffic warning.”

“That one was objectively true,” you whispered.

His mouth twitched. “And you told me my handwriting looked like a stabbed insect.”

You stared at him. The wind moved between you, cold and sharp, tugging at his cape and your sleeves. Far below, sirens wailed. Gotham kept being Gotham, rude as ever. But above it, the impossible sat between you like a candle in a ruined church.

“You remember that?” you asked.

“Yes.”

You searched his face for the lie. There wasn’t one. That was the problem with Damian. He could be arrogant, difficult, blunt, dramatic in a way he would deny until the sun died, but he did not give you comfort he could not defend.

Hope stirred. You hated it. You hated how quickly it had learned his name.

“Maybe it’s temporary,” you said.

“It may be.”

“Maybe it won’t last.”

“It may not.”

“Maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow, and it’ll be gone.”

His expression softened. “Then I will begin again tomorrow.”

Your throat burned. “You don’t get tired of that?”

“Yes.”

The honesty hit harder than a pretty answer would have.

Damian stepped closer. “I get furious,” he said. “I get impatient. I get…” His jaw tightened. “Afraid.” You stared. Damian Wayne said the word like it had been dragged out of him by the throat. “But I do not get tired of you.”

Your breath caught. He looked startled by his own words, but he did not take them back. You laughed once, brittle and small. “That’s a terrible line.”

“I was not aware we were exchanging lines.”

“You’re doing a tragic rooftop romance. You should at least be good at it.”

“I will improve.”

“Don’t make that sound like a threat.”

“I make no promises.”

There it was again. The almost-smile. You wanted to touch it. You wanted to run from it. Both urges lived in you at once, twin animals baring teeth.

Instead, you pulled your knees to your chest and sat on the edge of the roof. After a moment, Damian sat beside you.

Not too close. Close enough.

You glanced at him. “Do you remember my face?”

His silence answered before he did. “No,” he said. You nodded like that didn’t hurt. “I remember impressions,” he continued. “Your eyes when you are annoyed. The angle of your head when you are about to insult me. The way your shoulders rise when someone says something kind and you do not know where to put it.”

“Wow. Drag me, why don’t you.”

“I remember the scar on your left thumb.”

Your hand curled instinctively. Damian noticed.

“You told me it was from a knife fight,” he said.

“I lied.”

“I know.” You looked at him sharply. He glanced at your hand, then quickly back to your face, as if afraid to lose you. “You cut yourself opening a can of peaches when you were twelve.”

The world fell out from under you. You had told him that on a bad night. A stupid night. A night where you had been tired and bleeding and too lonely to keep every door locked. You had told him about the abandoned apartment you stayed in that winter, about eating canned fruit with a stolen pocketknife, about slicing your thumb open and crying more because there was no one to hear you than because it hurt.

You had told him. Then he had looked away. And forgotten. You had regretted saying it for weeks.

Damian remembered.

Your hand trembled before you could stop it. He saw. Carefully, slowly, he offered his hand palm-up between you.

Not taking. Asking.

Damn him. Damn him for learning you this gently.

You stared at his hand like it was a trap. Then you placed yours in it.

His fingers closed around yours. The contact steadied something in the air. Or maybe in you.

“I remember that,” Damian said.

You swallowed hard. “How?”

“I do not know yet.”

“Of course you added ‘yet.’”

“I am consistent.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I have been called worse.”

“By me.”

“Mostly, yes.”

A laugh escaped you. Soft. Unwilling.

Damian’s eyes sharpened, not like a hunter this time, but like a boy watching the first star appear in a dark sky.

“There,” he whispered. You went still. “I will remember that one too.”

Your heart hurt so badly you almost hated him for it.

Almost.

The second thing Damian remembered was your voice.

It happened badly. The Narrows were soaked in rain, neon bleeding down dirty windows and alley walls. You had been tracking a weapons shipment tied to Black Mask’s old network. Damian had tracked it too, which meant the two of you ended up on opposite sides of the same warehouse skylight, glaring at each other through wet glass like the world’s least normal meet-cute.

“You followed me,” you said through the comm he had given you.

“I was here first.”

“I was here silently.”

“I was here competently.”

“That’s debatable.”

“You set off the pressure sensor on the south entrance.”

“That sensor was ugly and deserved it.”

Damian sighed. You grinned despite yourself. Then the floor beneath him exploded. The comm cut out. Your body moved before your fear could name itself.

You dropped through the skylight into smoke and gunfire, landing hard on a steel beam. Below, men shouted. Red emergency lights flashed. Damian was on one knee near the centre of the room, one hand braced against the concrete, blood bright against his temple.

For one horrible second, he looked younger. Not Robin. Not Batman’s heir.

Just Damian. Your Damian.

No. Not yours.

You threw three blades in quick succession. Three men dropped.

Damian looked up. His eyes found you.

Relief flickered across his face. Then a flashbang detonated. White swallowed everything. When your vision returned, Damian was standing with his sword drawn and no recognition in his eyes.

Of course. You knew this part. You could survive this part.

Then he pointed the blade at you. “Identify yourself.”

Something inside you snapped.

“Are you kidding me?” you shouted.

He froze. Not because he remembered.

Because your voice did something to him.

You saw it happen. His shoulders shifted. His grip faltered. His eyes widened, not with knowledge, but with impact. Your voice had gotten through before his mind could slam the door.

“Robin!” one of the smugglers barked from behind him.

Damian did not turn. Good. Learning.

The man raised a gun. You shot him in the shoulder.

Damian’s gaze flicked instinctively toward the sound. Lost.

His face emptied. Then his jaw clenched. He looked back at you.

“I know your voice,” he said.

You almost missed your next throw. “What?”

“I know your voice.”

“You don’t know me.”

His eyes narrowed, frustrated. “I know your voice.”

The fight surged around you. This was a terrible place for a revelation.

“Great,” you snapped. “Use that knowledge to duck.”

He ducked. A crowbar swung through the space where his skull had been. Damian moved like water after that, violent and precise. You covered his blind spots. He covered yours. Every time he looked away, his body reset—but not completely. Your voice pulled him back faster each time.

“Left.” He moved left. “Behind you.” He spun. “Duck, pretty bird.”

He ducked, then glared at you mid-fight. “You did not just call me—” He knocked a man unconscious with the hilt of his sword. “You did,” he said.

You shrugged while kicking someone in the knee. “Adrenaline. Don’t read into it.”

“I will read into it extensively.”

“Focus.”

“I am focused.”

“You are flirting while concussed.”

“I am multitasking.”

You laughed. He heard it. And this time, when he looked away, he still smiled.

Only for half a second. Only barely. But you saw it.

And after the last man dropped, Damian stood in the wreckage, rain pouring through the broken skylight, blood sliding down his jaw, and said your name. Not your real name, but the one he had given you.

“Forget-Me-Not.” You froze. His eyes widened. “I remembered.”

You stared at him. “No notes?”

“No notes.”

“No recording?”

“No.”

“No contact?”

“No.”

Your pulse roared in your ears.

Damian lifted a hand to his own mouth, stunned by himself. “I remembered the name.”

You should have made a joke. You always made a joke. Instead you crossed the space between you and grabbed him by the front of his suit. His eyes dropped to your hands.

You knew the risk. His memory flickered. You felt him begin to lose you.

“Damian,” you said.

His gaze snapped back to your face. There. He stayed.

You kissed him. It was not graceful. It was wet from rain and sharp with fear, his mouth startled beneath yours for one breath before he kissed you back with a kind of fierce, trembling focus that made your knees weak. His hands hovered for half a second, like he was afraid touching you wrong would make you vanish. Then one settled at your waist. The other came up to your jaw.

You felt him try not to look away. Felt the concentration in every line of him.

It should have been funny. It was devastating.

You pulled back just enough to breathe. His eyes were still open. Still on you.

“Did you forget?” you whispered.

His fingers tightened. “No.” Your world cracked open. Damian’s voice dropped. “I remember kissing you before.”

You stopped breathing.

His brow furrowed, like the memory was fighting him, like he was dragging it up with both hands from deep water. “Rooftop,” he said. “Siren. I looked away. You laughed at my glove.”

A sound left you. Half laugh. Half sob. “You wrote ‘you love them’ on your glove.”

His face flushed. Even now. Bleeding, soaked, standing over seven unconscious criminals and three dead ones, Damian Wayne blushed because you remembered his dramatic little love note to himself.

“I was being thorough,” he muttered.

“You were being insane.”

“I was being correct.”

You looked at him. He looked back. The rain softened the edges of him. Made him less blade, more boy. Fewer weapons, more want. Your hands were still fisted in his suit.

“You love me?” you asked. The question came out smaller than you meant it to.

Damian’s expression changed. He looked briefly, openly terrified. Then certain. “Yes,” he said.

No hesitation. No escape route. Just yes.

Your eyes stung. “You barely remember me.”

“I remember enough to know what the rest of me keeps choosing.”

“That is the most Damian Wayne answer imaginable.”

“I assume that is favourable.”

“It’s obnoxious.”

“You’re crying.”

“I’m rain-adjacent.”

“It is indoors.”

“There’s a hole in the roof.”

“Because you crashed through it.”

“Romantically.”

His mouth twitched. Then softened. “Beloved,” he said quietly.

You forgot how to be clever. Damian noticed. A dangerous amount of satisfaction entered his face.

“Oh, shut up,” you whispered.

“I said nothing.”

“You looked smug.”

“I am allowed to be pleased when I render you speechless.”

“I’m going to stab you emotionally.”

“You already have.”

And there it was. The ache beneath the banter. The years of loneliness. The curse. The forgetting. The way every soft thing between you had teeth marks in it from trying not to die.

You touched his cheek. His eyes closed for one second. Just one.

When he opened them, panic flashed. Then recognition followed. Slowly. Painfully. But there.

“I remember,” he said, wonder breaking through his voice.

Your thumb brushed his cheekbone. “Damian?”

“I remember.”

His hand covered yours. “I closed my eyes,” he said. “And I remembered.”

You stared at him.

The silence after that was not empty. It was full of every impossible thing neither of you dared to name.

Then Damian leaned forward and kissed you again. This time, he closed his eyes. This time, when he opened them, you were still there.

He became unbearable after that. Scientifically unbearable. You had never seen a man so smug about emotional progress. Damian walked around the Batcave like he had personally defeated the laws of metaphysics through discipline and cheekbones.

“I remembered their voice for fourteen minutes without visual confirmation,” he told Tim.

Tim stared at him over his coffee. “Good morning to you, too.”

“This suggests the effect is weakening.”

“It suggests you’re in love and making it everyone’s problem.”

Damian sniffed. “I am conducting research.”

“You wrote their name in the margin of a case file.”

“That was accidental.”

“You surrounded it with little flowers.”

Damian’s face went blank. Tim’s grin widened. “They were tactical flowers,” Damian said.

You, hidden in the rafters above them, nearly choked trying not to laugh.

Damian’s head snapped up.

He could not see you. Still, he smiled. Tiny. Private. Like his body knew where you were before his eyes did.

Tim followed his gaze and sighed. “You two are going to be disgusting, aren’t you?”

“I do not know what you mean,” Damian said.

“You’re already doing the secret rooftop eye-contact thing.”

“Your jealousy is unbecoming.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m sleep-deprived and surrounded by emotionally constipated vigilantes discovering romance like it’s a new martial art.”

From the rafters, you whispered, “He’s not wrong.”

Damian looked directly at your hiding place. “I heard that.”

Tim startled. “You heard them?”

Damian paused.

His expression changed. Not confusion. Astonishment. He had heard you without seeing you. And remembered who the voice belonged to.

You dropped lightly from the rafters, landing beside the computer platform.

Tim looked at you. Then away by accident. When his gaze returned, he frowned at the empty space his mind insisted on making.

“Right,” Tim muttered, immediately looking at his tablet. “Wow. That is annoying.”

“Welcome to my whole life,” you said.

Tim winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You wrote a twelve-page theory about me involving quantum attention decay. That was worse.”

Tim brightened. “You read that?”

“No.”

“You did.”

“Unfortunately.”

Damian stepped closer to you. His hand brushed yours. Not because he needed to anchor himself.

Because he wanted to. That difference nearly ruined you.

Tim looked between you and Damian. Or tried to. Mostly, his eyes kept snagging on Damian’s hand and then sliding away from the rest of you.

“So,” Tim said slowly, “he’s remembering more?”

“Yes,” Damian said.

You looked at him. “Sometimes.”

“More than sometimes.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“I am accurately confident.”

“You remembered I hate lilies and decided that made you a wizard.”

“You said lilies smell like funeral homes and rich guilt.”

Tim pointed at you with his coffee. “That is incredibly specific.”

Damian’s eyes stayed on you. “I remembered because it mattered to them.”

The cave went quiet. Even Tim had the decency not to ruin it.

You swallowed. “Stop being sincere in public.”

“This is my home.”

“There are bats in it.”

“They are family.”

Tim whispered, “See? Disgusting.”

Damian ignored him. You tried to, but your mouth twitched. And Damian remembered that too.

Your real name came on a night without costumes. That was not planned. Most important things with Damian were either meticulously planned or happened with the emotional timing of a car crash. This was the second kind.

You were at Wayne Manor because Alfred had decided you were underfed. Alfred Pennyworth, you quickly discovered, was immune to approximately sixty per cent of your nonsense through sheer British stubbornness. He forgot you, yes. But he did not forget the place setting he had arranged. He did not forget the extra cup of tea. He did not forget the note he had written in elegant script beside the tray, Our guest takes honey, not sugar. Do not allow Master Damian to brood overmuch.

You read it three times. Then blamed allergies.

There were no allergies.

Damian found you in the library after dinner, standing near the window with a cup of tea cooling in your hands.

“You fled,” he said.

“I relocated.”

“You were overwhelmed.”

“I was avoiding your brother asking whether I’m your partner.”

Damian went still. “He asked that?”

“He tried to. He forgot halfway through and asked why you were smiling at a chair.”

Damian grimaced. You turned from the window.

The library was warm, gold-lit, lined with books that looked older than several Gotham neighborhoods. Rain tapped against the glass. Somewhere far down the hall, Dick laughed at something Jason said. It sounded painfully normal. Too normal for you. Too much like a life.

Damian approached carefully. “You may leave whenever you wish.”

“I know.”

“No one will keep you here.”

“I know.”

“You are not a prisoner of being wanted.”

You looked down at your tea. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I can.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I might believe you.”

Damian was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “Good.”

Your grip tightened around the cup. The ceramic warmed your palms. You hated how badly you wanted to stay. You hated how much of your life had been built around leaving before anyone could prove you were impossible to keep.

“Damian,” you said.

He stepped closer. “Yes?”

You looked at him then. No mask. No hood. No blood. No rooftop distance. Just Damian in a dark sweater, hair still damp from the rain, eyes fixed on you like attention was the first language he had ever learned.

“I want to tell you my name,” you said.

His face changed. Softened. Sharpened. Almost reverent. “You do not have to.”

“I know.”

“If you tell me, I may forget it.”

“I know.”

“I will write it down.”

“I know.”

“It still may hurt.”

You laughed under your breath. “It already hurts.”

Damian looked pained. You set the tea aside. Then you stepped close enough that your shoes nearly touched his.

You told him. Not loudly. Not dramatically.

Just a name. A small sound. A human thing. The first thing ever taken from you.

Damian closed his eyes like receiving it hurt.

Then he opened them. Said it back. Perfectly.

Your breath shook. “No one has said that to me in years,” you whispered.

Damian’s hand rose, then stopped. “May I?”

You nodded.

He touched your cheek. Your eyes closed on instinct. His thumb moved softly against your skin.

Then he turned his head. Just slightly. A glance toward the door at a distant sound.

Your stomach dropped.

There. The curse took its bite.

Damian went still. His hand remained on your face. His eyes returned to you. For one second, there was no recognition. Then something fought through.

Not notes. Not touch alone. Something deeper.

His brow furrowed. His lips parted. Then he said your name.

Your whole body went cold. Then hot. Then weightless.

“You remember,” you breathed.

Damian stared at you as if he were afraid moving would break the world. “Yes.”

“Say it again.”

He did.

You covered your mouth. He said it again, softer. Like a vow. Like a prayer. Like he was teaching the universe how to behave.

You made a sound you could not swallow.

Damian pulled you into his arms. Not too tight. Never trapping. Just holding.

You buried your face against his shoulder and shook. He pressed his mouth to your hair.

“I remember,” he whispered.

You clutched the back of his sweater. “You remember me.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t stop.”

“I will not.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” he said, voice rough. “But I know your name.”

You broke then. Not prettily. Not quietly. Years of vanishing tore out of you all at once. You cried like a child. Like the child who had waited at a dinner table no one set. Like the teenager who had learned knives because hands were never offered. Like the ghost who had survived being forgotten by pretending they did not want to be known.

Damian held you through all of it. And when he looked away once, twice, three times—

He still knew who you were when he looked back.

He asked you properly two weeks later. Because apparently, Damian Wayne could confess love in a burning warehouse but needed a formal strategy for dating.

You found the list by accident. Mostly accident. Fine. Thirty percent accident.

It was in his notebook, beneath a heading written in his sharp, perfect block letters, COURTSHIP PARAMETERS You stared. Then slowly turned the page.

Ask directly. Do not assume existing emotional intimacy equals consent to romantic partnership. Avoid phrasing as a tactical alliance. Drake says this is “weird.” Flowers? Not lilies. Possible alternatives: forget-me-nots, though they may be too obvious. Consider irony? No. Too painful? Ask. Dinner? Public spaces may increase discomfort due to memory effect. Rooftop picnic? Too much like patrol? Do not say “I have selected you.” Brown laughed for four minutes.

You had to sit down. By the time Damian entered the room, you were on his bed, laughing silently into his pillow.

He stopped in the doorway. “You are invading my privacy.”

“You wrote ‘do not say I have selected you.’” His entire face went red. You clutched the notebook to your chest. “Damian.”

“Give that back.”

“You asked Steph for dating advice?”

“I consulted multiple sources.”

“Did you ask Jason?”

His expression darkened. “Todd suggested kidnapping you from yourself.”

“That’s almost poetic.”

“He also suggested leather.”

You wheezed.

Damian lunged for the notebook.

You rolled away, laughing harder. He caught your ankle. You shrieked, half-laughing, and kicked at him without real force. He climbed onto the bed with the terrifying determination of a man fighting for his dignity and losing badly.

“Return it,” he demanded.

“You made a courtship battle plan.”

“It is not a battle plan.”

“It has numbered objectives.”

“It is a list.”

“You were going to ask me out with logistics.”

“I was going to ask you with respect.”

That stopped you. Damian froze too, one hand braced beside your shoulder, the two of you suddenly close enough that laughter became breath. His blush lingered high on his cheeks.

Your smile softened despite yourself. “You were?”

“Yes.”

You looked down at the notebook. Then back at him. “Okay. Ask me.”

“Now?”

“No, Damian. Next fiscal quarter.”

His eyes narrowed. “Your sarcasm is a defence mechanism.”

“Your face is a defence mechanism. Ask.”

He took the notebook from your loosened hand and set it aside. Then, because he was Damian, he straightened even while kneeling on his bed like this was a boardroom and not the most ridiculous romantic moment in recorded history. He looked directly at you. Softer this time.

“I love you,” he said. Your heart tripped. Still. Every time. “I remember you now more often than I forget,” he continued. “But even before that, I knew you. I knew you from the evidence you left behind. I knew you in what my hands refused to release. I knew you in the anger I felt when the world failed to keep you.” You swallowed. “I do not want you as a mission,” he said. “Or a mystery. Or a wound I am arrogant enough to believe I can close. I want you as you are. Difficult. Violent. Irritatingly funny.”

“Careful. I’m swooning.”

“You interrupt when uncomfortable.”

“I’m on brand.”

His mouth curved. “I want to be with you,” he said. “If you will have me.”

For a moment, you could not answer. Your chest felt too full. Too bright. Like hope had stopped being a weed and become a garden overnight, and you had no idea how to tend it.

“You’re sure?” you whispered.

“Yes.”

“What if it gets worse again?”

“Then we adapt.”

“What if you forget for a whole day?”

“I will come back.”

“What if you don’t?”

Pain crossed his face. No offence. Understanding. “Then you are allowed to be angry with me.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is the only honest one.” He touched your hand. “I cannot promise perfection. I can promise effort. I can promise records, anchors, magic, research, and my own unbearable persistence.”

“You are unbearable.”

“I know.”

“You’re smug.”

“Frequently.”

“You brood.”

“Productively.”

“You’re bad at casual affection.”

“I am improving.”

“You tried to label kissing as positive tactile reinforcement.”

He closed his eyes. “I apologised for that.”

“You did.”

“I will never say it again.”

“You better not.”

His eyes opened. Your hand turned beneath his, fingers sliding between his.

“But yeah,” you whispered. “I’ll have you.”

Damian went very still. Then, quietly, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

His face changed. You had seen Damian angry. Injured. Focused. Afraid. Tender in flashes he tried to hide.

You had never seen him happy like this. It was not loud. It did not transform him into someone else. It simply loosened something around his eyes, lit something beneath his skin. A sunrise with discipline. A miracle standing at attention.

Then he leaned down and kissed you. Slowly. Carefully. Like he had all the time in the world and planned to use it well.

You smiled against his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to frown. “You are laughing.”

“I’m dating a man with courtship parameters.”

“I rescind my vulnerability.”

“No take-backs.”

He kissed you again, firmer this time. Your hand rose to the back of his neck, fingers slipping into his hair. He made a quiet sound that you immediately filed away for future bullying.

Then his eyes closed. Your body tensed automatically. He felt it.

His forehead rested against yours. Eyes still closed, he said your name. Perfectly.

You shuddered.

Again, he said it.

Then opened his eyes.

“There you are,” Damian whispered.

And this time, he remembered saying it.

The curse did not vanish. Life was not that kind. Strangers still forgot you. Cameras still blurred if no one watched the footage with intention. Tim still had to write your name on his coffee cup when you visited the cave, and Jason still got annoyed every time he forgot who had stolen his ammo.

“You,” Jason snapped once, pointing at empty air beside you, “better be the reason my smoke bombs are missing.”

You held one up.

Jason looked away. Looked back. Forgot. Then saw the smoke bomb floating in your hand.

“Oh, come on.”

You laughed for ten minutes.

Damian remembered the sound all day.

That was the difference now.

Not a cure.

A beginning.

Some days were worse. Some days, Damian forgot your face after blinking too long. Some days, your name dissolved on his tongue and came back only after he touched the bracelet Zatanna had spelt for him.

Some days you spiralled. Some days he did.

But more often, he remembered.

Your voice from another room. Your hand without looking. Your name in the morning, sleep-rough and certain. Your laugh. Your scars. Your tea. Your hatred of lilies. Your habit of sharpening knives when anxious.

The way you still stood near exits. The way you looked stunned every time he reached for you simply because he wanted to.

And every time he remembered, some old frozen piece of you thawed.

Not all at once. Not cleanly.

Healing was ugly sometimes. It limped. It snapped. It forgot the way home and had to be led back by hand.

But Damian was good at difficult paths.

And you, despite everything, were still here.

One evening, months after the warehouse, you found him on the same rooftop where he had first remembered your laugh. He was waiting with a thermos of tea, two paper containers of takeout, and a small pot of blue flowers.

You stared at it. “Are those forget-me-nots?”

Damian looked almost defensive. “Too obvious?”

“Horribly.”

“I suspected.”

“Very dramatic.”

“I was informed romance requires some drama.”

“By who?”

“Grayson.”

“That explains everything.”

Damian held out the flowers. You took them carefully.

“They’re pretty,” you admitted.

“I know.”

“Smug.”

“Accurately confident.”

You sat beside him, shoulder pressed to his.

Below, Gotham glowed like a bruise full of stars.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then Damian said your name.

Softly.

No prompt. No note. No spell.

You looked at him.

He was watching the skyline, not you.

He had said it while looking away.

Your breath vanished.

Damian turned his head. Saw your face.

Remembered why you looked like that.

His expression softened.

“I know,” he said.

Your eyes burned. “You looked away.”

“Yes.”

“And you remembered.”

“Yes.”

You laughed once, wet and disbelieving. “Show-off.”

He smiled.

Actually smiled. Small but real, and yours to remember even if the world forgot.

You leaned into him. His arm came around you.

This time, neither of you called it anchoring.

This time, it was just holding.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Damian went very still.

You felt the breath leave him.

Then his hand tightened around yours.

He said your name again. Then, “I love you.”

No curse took it. No silence swallowed it. No forgetting followed.

The words stayed. You stayed.

And when Damian looked away toward the city, then back at you, his smile returned like dawn breaking over a place that had only ever known night.

“There you are,” he said.

You smiled through the ache.

you moved through the kitchen with ease, everything around you working in harmony and organization. the timing of each dish you were preparing was natural at this point, a practiced execution of the meal you were making. your soft humming was the only sound in the kitchen, besides the sound of meat sizzling.

just as you were reaching into the tupperware cabinet, you felt arms wrap around your waist in a hug. recognizing the tight, but gentle hold, you patted her forearms at your stomach and smiled, “good morning, lily, you’re up early,” she only squeals in excitement behind, squeezing you tighter.

“how could i sleep when i could smell breakfast from the other side of the house? it’s my favorite!” she used her entire body’s weight to rock you two back and forth where you stood, but it was more so lightly swaying due to the size and weight difference.

“i know,” you mused, moving so that your arm was thrown over her shoulder as you brought her to your side, rather than behind, “you’ve been working hard lately, i wanted to give you some special princess treatment,”

she smiles and coos at your words, pinching your cheek, “you’re the best oppa ever! this is so thoughtful,”

you smile softly at her praise, petting her hair down, “i’ll bring you the food, just wait at the table, m’kay?” she nods in understanding. on her way to her seat, she snaps a picture of the stove, which had the delicious food in all of its glory. undoubtedly she was going to post it on her story later to brag about how spoiled she was with you, most probably tagging you as well.

it didn’t take for the breakfast to finish cooking and, as promised, lily was served a platter of food thoughtfully arranged, “caleb didn’t come down yet?”

she shakes her head, grabbing her phone and taking more photos for her own safekeeping, “nope! i think he was up late, might want to be sleeping in,”

you glance at the clock, frowning, “alright, i’ll wake him up in ten minutes. he’s also been working so hard,” the frown only deepens, “what do you say me and you cook him up his favorite dinner sometime this week?” she brightens at the idea, grabbing her utensils with an excited look on her face.

“just promise to make me extras when you do!” she takes a spoonful of the food and audibly moans at the delicious taste. she rocks back and forth in her seat in an adorable way of showing how the tasty the food was affecting her. you smile, glad that it was to her liking before going to clean up the kitchen.

just as you turned your back, caleb came down the stairs which gave him a clear view of the dining area.

“what’s this?” he asked, voice rough with sleep.

“oh, good morning caleb! oppa made me my favorite,” she immediately says, showing off her plate, which caleb grimaces at.

“he made it?”

“well, duh, that’s why there’s such a mess in the kitchen,” she jokes, obviously exaggerating. but caleb didn't crack a smile.

“i could've made you some, pips,” he murmurs, ruffling her hair, “next time wake me up, i’ll make it for you instead of him,”

she pouts at his comment, not liking his tone, “heyyy, [name] made it really good though! try it!”

“no thanks,” his response is brief and he walks over to the fridge.

“caleb, have some,” you invite, grabbing a plate for him and going to prepare his food. but you stop when you hear a quick “don’t bother,” from him. he didn't even greet you a ‘good morning’ and was already giving you a snappy attitude.

you sighed, assuming it was the high stress of school and lack of sleep, so you didn't say anything. instead, you smiled and nodded (even though his back was turned to you), “well, do you want to get lunch together in between your classes? i can treat.”

you didn't want his only source of energy to be from the protein shake he was drinking now.

“pips, are you free for lunch today?” caleb asks after briefly looking at you, then focussing on her.

“i am, which is perfect! we can all-”

“i’ll wait for you outside of your class then,” caleb smiles as he walks out of the kitchen, not sparing you a glance or another word.

lily sensing his odd behavior frowns and reasons, “it might just be because of school, sorry he’s being so rude…will you join us for lunch still?”

“i don't think i can, actually. i might head in early at work,” you smile weakly, “it's fine though! take my card and it’ll still be my treat,” you go to get your wallet, but she’s stopping you with a glare.

“hey, you don't have to just give up your wallet for us. caleb or i can pay,” her tone is stern, not wanting to just rob you of your money, especially when you weren't coming. but you gently loosened her grip on you.

“no, it's okay, i want to still treat you,” and ignoring her weak protests, you hand her your card. “please? it’ll make me feel better knowing i was able to help him got some good food in his system,”

she sighs, taking your card reluctantly and standing up to hug you, “you should come,”

“it’s fine, really. i’m a little short on my usual hours next week, so going in earlier will help balance that out! trust me, that was my original plan anyway,” she doesn't seem to believe you but she doesn't press you further for answers.

“get to work safe, i’m gonna get ready now,” her tone and expression looking as if she is warning you, instead of simply telling you, which you weakly smile in response to.

“you too, see you later!”

when her back turns to you, the smile on your face slowly dims. thinking of the entire interaction with caleb you groan and run your hand through your hair. dealing with caleb lately has been frustrating and it’s been hard to ignore each interaction.

you were thinking of asking him about what was wrong, what this long lasting hostility was about, but decided against it. whatever this was would just hopefully pass. and as much as you cared about caleb, there were bills to be paid and a lot of other things to worry about. those things you worry about related to taking care of them as well, so you had to prioritize it.

you’re spinnin' me around

my feet are off the ground

i don't know where I stand

“[name] i’m glad you’re here,” zayne’s smooth voice is the first thing to greet you after you punch in. he seems to notice the tired smile on your face, a slight shift in his expression only noticeable because of how close you two were standing to each other. you’d say it was in between his trademark stoic expression and small frown, “have you been getting good sleep? you look tired,”

you attempt a smile, but it must obviously not reach your face, “i’m alright, just,” you shrug your shoulders, trying to avoid actually answering and he grants you that, nodding as if he understands.

“well, stick with me tonight and i’ll try being mindful of not putting so much stress on you,” his offer is tempting, but you don’t want to be a burden to him, especially in the work environment.

“i’ll be fine, zayne, thank you for worrying about me, but work is work,”

he smiles softly, “i can’t allow my favorite scribe to get overwhelmed or else everything might end up crumbling down into chaos,” you can’t tell if its a dry humor joke, but it does get a smile out of you. “let’s get to work, [name],”

“yes, doctor zayne,” you call out to him, mimicking a salute that earns a chuckle of amusement from the usually stoic man.

being friends with lily and caleb since childhood also meant that you were somewhat acquainted with zayne. he was more so closer to lily, but he was always kind and polite to you. you learned his stoic, but also shy, attitude was simply his personality and, although a bit off putting at the start, due to how different his behavior was in comparison to lily and caleb’s, you found it to be somewhat comforting.

you could always count on zayne to be honest with you as well as a good-objective advice giver. you’re sure if you told him about your troubles with caleb, he’d actually offer some good advice. realizing that you were thinking of the handsome man with purple eyes, you physically shook your head. this caught zayne’s attention and he tilted his head in question, “is something bothering you?”

“no, no, it’s nothing, sorry.” you apologize, but he just shakes his head.

“you don’t have to apologize, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says it as if its obvious. his nonchalant demeanor is unintentionally easing your worries, making your face heat up — for reasons unknown to you. “just make sure to focus up when we get out there,”

“of course,” you say in confidence, pushing the worries you had about caleb to the back of your mind.

“i know i can rely on you, so rely on me too, okay?”

his surprisingly heartfelt words make you admire him for a second longer before nodding, “i will,”

for the rest of that gruelling shift (13 hours), you two are working in harmony with each other. sometimes he’d be pulled away in urgent cases, but for the most part the two of you were working in tandem with each other. it was all seamless. and although you were tired by the end of it all, zayne offering you a cold drink from the vending machine made you feel reenergized.

“thank you, doc,” you smile, opening the water bottle and taking in hefty sips.

“did you have any food today?” he asks, standing in front of you. his tall figure casts a shadow over you, comically making him look like a light lined savior in your exhaustion. he may as well have been anyway.

“yeah, i was able to get a quick bite from the cafeteria,”

“was it nutritious? you seemed to have been sluggish the entire shift, when did you get that food?”

“hm, maybe halfway in?”

“that was hours ago. come on, let’s go get something to eat,” he says simply, already turning to walk away and expecting you to follow. but you shoot up onto your feet to stop him.

“it’s alright zayne, i’ve got to head back home anyway. prepare food for lily and caleb,” his expression hardens and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“and when do you plan on taking care of yourself in between that?” he sighs when he sees you go silent, “lily had messaged me earlier today, before we clocked in, said that she was worried about you. and that has made me worry for you as well. take care of yourself, [name]. put yourself first more often,”

you think about his words and offer, but still shake your head, “i will, but i still should head on home,”

zayne hums at your response, “very well. take care, [name]. see you next shift and get home safe,”

“see you, zayne!”

and you’re trudging along back home. you would have liked to be greeted with a warm welcome, the idea itself making a smile grow on your tired face, but instead it’s just silence for a beat. but then you hear it; footsteps rushing down the stairs and to the front door.

to your shock it’s caleb. and he’s actually coming towards you. not glancing at you for one second before scoffing and going off to the kitchen (it’s already happened a handful of times, you almost expect it at this point). no, he’s coming over to you— more like stomping to you, though. why does he look angry?

before you can ask him that exact question, his palm is splayed against your chest, knocking you back a couple of steps at the force, “don’t insult me like that again,”

you’re quiet only because you’ve been shocked into stupor. then, finally you collect your thoughts enough to utter a meek, “what?”

“this bullshit,” he sneers, shoving his hand against your chest again. thankfully, your footing is better and you barely budge this time. but when he moves his hand off of you, you barely react in time to catch the card that was in between you and him, “giving lily your card when we were the ones going out? i can take care of her just fine, y’know?”

“i know you can, but-”

“but you just always find a way to squirm your way back in,” his voice sounds annoyed and his expression is even clearer how he’s feeling. he’s angry, obviously, because he’s looking at you with narrowed eyes and his jaw is clenched tight. “don’t do something like this again, alright?”

“caleb, i just wanted to-” your attempts at fighting back are silenced by his voice booming over yours.

“and i just want you to stop. whatever you think you’re doing to help her, i am fully capable. why don’t you worry about yourself from now on? you look like you’ve been ran through,” he scoffs, a mocking smile on his face.

heartlessly that’s when he steps away and goes back upstairs to his room. it almost makes you want to laugh out of disbelief. you come home from a 13 hour shift, gone the entire day and afternoon working to provide for him and lily. and the first thing greeting you was caleb and his hostility that has become more familiar than his usual warm personality.

where did things go wrong? is all you can ask yourself, looking at the place that no longer feels a semblance of being a home. you had practically raised both him and lily, provided almost entirely for them as much as you could without running yourself dry. and caleb can’t even muster a simple thank you?

it hurts even more knowing how close you two used to be. back when you’d come home from school, he’d be the first to greet you at the door — faster than lily and definitely faster than josephine. back then, he’d cling onto you like a koala bear, practically hanging off of your figure like he was trying to climb you. he wouldn’t shy away from skin to skin contact.

now, he doesn’t even look at you if not to scorn you. you don’t know when this switch happened exactly, but you assume it had to do with you going away for so long for university. that’s what you liked to tell yourself at least. it’d ease your pain knowing that it wasn’t something you’d done directly to caleb, but something of your environment that split you two apart.

every interaction now stung when before it felt nothing but euphoric. to have him be so close to you, to simply trust you.

it hurts to know he doesn’t even want your care and love in the form of money, the most shallow exihibition of love, in your opinion. it’s already expected he won’t accept outwardly kind gestures, won’t accept the homemade lunch boxes you used to give him, won’t listen to you when you tell him to take care of himself more, get more rest.

but not even accepting your money? the money you make solely to provide for him? the money, which in reality, is the cheapest thing you could offer him to show how much you love him? that’s not even worth anything to him? it stung as much as an actual slap to the face.

you silently prepared dinner for lily and him, knowing that only lily would eat it, and left a note for her on the dinner table. you checked her location to make sure she was on her way home safe and shut your phone off when you confirmed it.

that night you spent an unreasonable amount of time in the shower, holding a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound of you crying. it was as if the moment the water came pouring down on your bare skin, the reality of caleb’s actions came crashing down on you.

why did everything have to change? was it your fault? for expecting things to stay the same from childhood. of course, he’d change, you expected that. but to this extent…

it wasn’t until lily was banging on the door, her whining audible through the wood that made you snap out of your breakdown. attempting to blow your stuffy nose and push your hair down as much as possible to cover your eyes, you tried to suit the image of nonchalance. someone unbothered. but when you roughly went past her, she caught your wrist.

she always knew when something was wrong.

“were you crying?” she asks bluntly, eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

“no,” you sigh, avoiding her gaze and gently closing your hand around hers, pulling her hold off of you, “it’s nothing,”

“it’s not nothing if you’re crying,” she insists, grabbing your bare, still wet shoulder and forcing you to turn to her, “what happened? did someone make you cry? tell me,” beyond her control, her voice began shaking as well. she was always such a strong empath. if it was any other circumstance, you’d tease her for having such an easily swayed heart. but all you could manage was a sad smile.

“it’s alright, i’m okay, lily. just a rough day at work,” it was a lame excuse and her face only scrunched up more at the blatant lie, “it’s hard working long shifts,”

“then take time off. tell me honestly, why are you crying?” her tone is pushy, more aggressive than it usually is. it’s only out of her genuine concern for you. but you didn’t have it in you to deal with this right now.

“lily, i need to go to bed, please,” your voice and demeanor screams tired, but this is more than a regular physical fatigue. no, you look as if you’ve been tormented by something, for a long, long time. and her emotions quickly turn to anger as it all points to one thing- person that it could be.

”i’m gonna go beat his ass, that insolent piece of shit,” she curses, uncharacteristically so and she’s about to stomp off, but you grab her before she can reach his door. she’s about to berate you, scold you for allowing this to go on so long without telling him off, but she stills when she feels your damp hair against the side of her neck.

you, still standing in just your towel, hair wet with droplets of water, and nose now running again, were trying to stifle your cries into her neck, “please, don’t,” it’s a soft whimper and she’s never heard this level of vulnerability from you. “i can’t make him hate me even more,”

“he doesn’t hate you, he’s just being-”

a dry laugh from your throat that physically hurts you, makes you feel like you’re suffocating. as if the pipe that feeds you air and makes sure you can breathe wants to kill you, tightening and making it impossibly hard to talk, “lying to me isn’t going to make this any better,”

she grips the skin and muscle of your back tightly with her fingertips, borderline scratching you, “he doesn’t hate you, i know he doesn’t. he’s just…he’s just going through a phase or something, i don’t know! but he doesn’t hate you!”

you sniffle, squeezing her tightly, “just don’t…hate me like he does, please. i can’t lose both of you,”

her bottom lip trembles, eyes turning glassy as she nods against your shoulder, “i could never, you know i love you, right?”

“i love you too,” you say and for the first time in hours, you genuinely smile. even if its miniscule, even if she can’t see it, you smile.

and the momentary peace is disrupted. because caleb’s door slams open, his room being only a couple of doors down from the bathroom. the hallway is short, so it’s not surprise that he heard the noise a couple feet away from his door. it’s very obvious he doesn’t like the sight in front of him.

“what the fuck are you doing to her?!” he snarls, doesn’t shout, no because that’s not how he is. how well did you know him anymore, though? when caleb gets angry, he gets ferocious in other ways. using his build to intimidate others, glaring daggers that cut through you, spitting venomous words that not only sting but poison your mind. “you’re half naked, well practically naked, and you’re hugging her? you don’t think that’s disgusting?”

“caleb! stop!” lily shouts, dropping her arms around you and protectively standing in front of you. her eyes are still glassy with tears, but instead of being full of sorrow, they’re just angry.

“you’re crying?” he asks her, not you, noticeably softer than when he was talking to you. but that moment of kindness disipates in seconds because he’s glaring at you again, “you tell me what you did to her, or i swear to god- why is she crying?”

“caleb! shut up! shut up!” she shouts, her hands reaching in front of her to prevent him from coming any closer to you, “it’s because of y-”

“lily, stop,” your voice is stronger now. a front you have to put on to not give in, not show caleb just how much you care and love him that his words drive you to nothing but tears and sobs, “it’s enough.”

“no, no, you can’t just do that! you can’t just not tell him!”

“tell me what? what do you need to tell me?” caleb asks, but he’s not asking for a genuine answer. it’s mocking. you can hear it, as well as the smirk on his face, “need to tell me how you’re grabbing at lily, fucking naked, straight out of the shower? you’re wearing nothing but a towel too, it’s so fucking disgusting and vile,”

lily’s breathing is heavier than your own as she listens to him. you’ve gone still. it feels like world is off tilt right now. like none of this is real. caleb was seriously accusing you of being a perverted freak, copping a feel on lily? how lowly did he think of you?

“can’t defend yourself, huh? cause i’m right, is that seriously what you were doing to her?!” his voice raises and his fist slams into the wall next to him, stomping forward. the sound reverberates through the house and lily yelps, hands instinctively covering her ears.

seeing a reaction from her, shoulders ragged with her breathing and the sound of what seems like wheezing makes you snap out of it. caleb doesn’t even notice how him slamming the wall had affected her, too blinded in his misplaced rage in you to see how he was terribly, terribly scaring lily.

“caleb, stop it,”

“no, you’re the one that needs to stop! okay, i’ve been holding it in to spare your feelings, but this, this is taking it a step too far,”

“please, just stop.” lily’s words go unheard from caleb, but they make you frown and feel anger bubble in your stomach.

“always acting like you’re the man of this family, playing this role up when in reality — we don’t fucking need you! you put in those extra hours at the hospital then whine and complain about being tired! there’s no need for you to even be working, grandma’s will left us being able to pay off this house until we all move out! so why don’t you start using your money to save up for a place on your own, okay? because i can barely take your hovering, stupidly clingy and nagging behavior every single day!” he goes to step forward, to do whatever to you, but lily pushes herself in between you two.

now she’s fully sobbing and you’ve gone completely numb.

“you want me gone?”

“fucking out, get out of our lives,” he says it so casually, as if he’s been thinking about this long and hard.

“caleb! shut up already! you don’t mean that!” lily shouts, pushing her hands against his chest, barely making him budge.

“pips, i do, though,” he laughs as if its funny, “you think he can provide for us? that he’s capable? he complains everytime he comes home from work, he can’t even decide on a steady career for himself — lily, we only need each other. i’m not sparing the feelings of a guy i hate,”

silence hangs in the air and you nod in understanding, teeth grinding against each other. it takes you a couple of seconds to process everything, but when you do come back to reality, you’re stepping forward before you can even control yourself.

caleb doesn’t flinch as you stop right in front of him, standing eye to eye.

“don’t ever yell like that in front of lily again or you’re gonna be laid out on hard pavement, caleb,” lily flinches at the mention of her name, pushing the hair out of her face as she looked at you in bewilderment. “do you understand me?”

seeing as it was lily that was the topic of discussion now, he no longer cared for you. his attention shifted to lily in a split second and he was just about to go comfort her, but lily moved faster. she evaded his touch, glaring at him like he was the devil himself. her eyes flitted over to you, but you were watching caleb like a hawk.

her heart ached even harder to see wet streaks going down your face. when she turned back to caleb, her anger flared up so hard she shoved him so hard he had slammed into the wall behind him.

“don’t,” was the only thing she said to him, walking past him and grabbing your wrist to go into your room. she slammed the door shut before he could chase after you two, locking it and pressing her forehead against the door.

wordlessly, you grabbed your clothing and changed while her back was turned to you, using your towel to dry your hair as you sat on the edge of your bed. she was already waiting beneath the covers for you, watching you with sad eyes.

“are you going to really leave us?” her voice was shaky and she sniffled, hand gripping the comforter in frustration, “i won’t blame you if you do, but,”

“i’m not leaving, lily,” you assure her, running a hand through your hair and deciding it dry enough, “not yet, at least,” you laid down next to her, smiling as she immediately drew herself to you. she slotted against your side, head resting on your chest as you hugged her close.

she breathed a sigh of relief, “good, he shouldn’t get that satisfaction — if you left he would’ve thought he got to you or something,” you felt her jaw tighten against your skin, “that stupid idiot, why would he say those things? he’s not thinking straight. [name], please understand this,” she looked up at you, bleary eyes making you frown, “i don’t hate you, i never will. i need you in my life. even if you decide to leave this house sometime in the future, don’t leave me. please,” she put her head down, cheek resting on your chest, “i’ll support you whenever you do decide to go, but don’t shut me out,”

“i won’t, trust me, lily. i’ll still be around,” you speak in whispers, as if the two of you are scared of caleb barging in at any moment.

in the next couple rooms over, caleb was laying in his bed and staring up at his ceiling. he was impossibly still and every breath he took was ragged.

honestly, he does hate you. he hates the way you linger, longer than any other presence or person that he’s known he hates the way you are constantly fretting over him and lily, as if he’s not capable of taking care of himself and lily. you’re overall a clingy mess that he could name a million things that he doesn’t like about you.

but most of all, where this all started, caleb hated the way you left so easily. then came back as if nothing happened.

you were always seen as a reliable figure in the house. grandma could count on you to cook dinner, to take care of utility things as she got older, and she had high expectations for you and standards that she expected you to meet. and not only did you meet them, you exceeded them.

teachers at school praise your intelligience, peers relied on you a lot for academic guidance.

caleb was quick to notice these things when he was young. and he was so eager to be just like that, if not better. he wanted to be someone you could rely on, show you how he learns and admires you so much he picks up your tendencies. honestly, he likes being lazy, not doing more than is required of him. but then he noticed how much weight rested on your shoulders.

so he wanted to be the one to alleviate that, so you could rely on him. and if you relied on him, you’d think highly of him. and that is what he wants more than anything in life. he wants your praise, attention, special treatment — he wants all of it.

he thought it would be like this. you two the main providers and reliable men in the house while you both cared for each other and lily. it was going to be the three of you, forever.

but then you got whisked away. a scholarship that was too perfect to pass up on. of course, you’d be graced with amazing offers left and right due to your intelligence. it wasn’t a surprise. but he never thought that as you were weighing all your options, the farthest away university had caught your eye. surely, you don’t mean it? leaving him and lily alone? it’s always been the three of you, what are you going to do without them? what are they supposed to do without you?

you left like it meant nothing. as if you weren’t abandoning your everything. at least that’s what it felt like. you didn’t even look back twice, waving from the platform then running onto the train with a quick glance spared in time before the doors shut. and he ran after that train, until he couldn’t anymore, breathing heavily and his hands on his knees as he looked at the concrete below him.

“he’ll come back, caleb,” lily comforted him, sad seeing how distraught he was. caleb was always used to being strong in front of her and soft in front of you. now, he felt as if he couldn’t be completely vulnerable anymore. he had to be strong for lily.

so he hardened up. got more rigid and rough around the edges, only showing genuine care towards lily. and he fell into that hole so deeply he didn’t know how to claw himself out. didn’t even know how to come back to being who he truly was when you pulled him into your arms when you finally came back to visit.

you’d think he’d eventually get over your absence, but the truth is he never did. he was angry at you, so, so angry. so angry he didn’t know how else to communicate it without verablly berating you. trying to hurt you just as much as you did him when you left.

he hopes his words sting you. he hopes they keep you up at night. and he hopes they hurt more than anything.

because that’s how he had felt every single minute, second, you were gone. he didn’t understand how you could so easily leave him. he didn’t understand and he didn’t want to anymore, he was over trying to comprehend it. he just wanted to make you feel his pain tenfold. make it so you’re always reminded of what happened to him when you left him.

you want to leave again? just know that when you come back, he’ll be waiting to break you down to such vulnerability that you won’t have anywhere else to go but back to him. and you’d always come back like he hoped.

he didn’t know why. what type of sick person stays with someone that hurts them?

he doesn’t know that the reason is the exact same reason as a person hurting someone out of fear that they leave again.

obviously, if you had told this to caleb now he’ll say you’re lying, you’ve got him wrong, and that he doesn’t care if you leave or stay.

but if you ask caleb, the caleb that was left running after your train on the platform, he’d answer truthfully and admit; every harmful thing caleb has said to you has just been a voice of his own insecurities. the fear you’d realize you’re better off without him or lily, fear you’d leave and never come back, fear you’d find someone better.

and just as much as he fears that, he’s scared of being hurt again. he doesn’t want to stay up for hours on end anymore just because he’s thinking about you, wondering if you’ve had dinner, if you’re taking care of yourself. it leaves him walking around like a brainless zombie. he doesn’t want to endure that slow, stabbing pain in his heart every morning he wakes up and you’re not even in the same city as him.

he wishes he could just forgive and move on from this, but every time he tries, he’s reminded of how helpless you made him feel. he hates that feeling.

so he kept hurting you, hoping you’d simply understand why he had to even though it made no sense. hoped you’d see why he had to, to make you feel how he felt. and he hoped you’d never leave.

he rationalizes this is what you get for leaving, for abandoning him.

of course, you haven’t got any idea about any of this. so, obviously, from your perspective, it looks simply like caleb’s had a switch flipped and there’s no way to reverse it. the damage has already been done and the relationship has truly been shattered this time. and you’ll still go home — if you could even call it that — but, nothing will ever go back to the way it was.

“lily told me what happened,” zayne sits across from you, a rare meeting you two are having outside of work, “she has expressed concerns of you staying there, so stay with me,”

you blink at him in confusion, “sorry?”

he clears his throat, “my apologies, i suppose my voice was not clear. i am offering you, wait no…” he pauses, fingers resting beneath his chin in thought, “I am opening my doors to you, for you to stay with me until you find another place to reside.”

“i’m sorry, zayne, but what?”

“surely i was speaking clearer this time,” he’s speaking more so to himself, “i am asking you live with me and become my roommate. i think it would do you some well to be far from caleb. although she spared me the details, it wasn’t hard to infer how he spoke to you the other night. it’s unacceptable and frankly dangerous for you to be near someone so volatile, openly so at that. so the only solution i could reach was offering you my place to stay, until you get on your feet,”

“zayne, i can’t possibly accept. also! i told lily i wouldn’t be leaving any time soon, i can’t just up and out her life, it doesn’t work like that,”

“lily and caleb are grown adults, you know? they can and will survive without you there,” you let his words simmer in your mind, thinking back to caleb calling you clingy and useless to them. he senses he may have said something that set you off, continuing on, “not to say they don’t need you — lily does, believe me, she does. however, all the main household duties you fulfill are jobs that they can easily learn.”

“did she really set you up to this?” you can’t help but questioned reason behind zayne’s sudden hospitality.

“well, she mentioned it to me in passing, i took it upon myself to daw up a solution. it makes sense, no?” he asks the question as if its simple to decide to move out of your home.

“i can’t just up and leave, zayne. also, that’s asking way too much of you. also, also, you really don’t need to worry about thi-“

“the way lily had described it would leave anyone worried and concerned. for being as cautious and perceptive as you are for other people, you don’t seem to let people do the same for you,” zayne’s curt voice cuts you off and you sigh in frustration. “we are friends, aren’t we? won’t you let me help you? i’m obviously telling you now that it is okay with me,”

you glare at the doctor with your arms crossed over your chest. for some reason, zayne was being quite adament with you. you make a mental note to ask lily what exactly it was that she told zayne because it sounds like he’s speaking as if he was in the room when caleb said those things to you. he sounds personally offended and hurt. even his facial expression makes it seem as if he knows more than he lets on. a grimace on his face whenever he mentions caleb’s name or the incident in general.

so after much thought, and heavy eye contact with each other as if you’re trying to read each other’s minds, you finally say, “i will stay with you for a week or two, just for some space. i won’t even bring my clothes to keep, i’ll go to my home in the day and just sleep at yours,”

“a glorified sleepover, then. fine by me,” a small smile graces his handsome face and you think this is the first time he’s smiled since you two have sat down. maybe his worries were finally eased when you accepted his offer. he seemed more laid back, shoulders slumping as much as they could when you have perfect posture like he does, as well as leaning more into the back of his seat.

“with that out of the way, shall we order? my treat, to celebrate your new freedom,”

“zayne! don’t call it that!” you laugh, finding the way he said it to be funnier than he intended.

“i see it as such,” he shrugs, calling over a waitress as he prepares to order, “you want the [favorite food], right?” he quickly clarifies as she steps closer and closer.

you tilt your head in surprise, “uhm, yeah, that sounds perfect. how’d you know that?”

“i studied the menu beforehand and ensured they had your favorite. i remembered.”

and he’s placing the order before you can even properly process what he had just said. all you know was that it was nice to be remembered. it was a pleasant feeling, warmth blooming on your face and chest as you watched zayne easily order for the two of you.

maybe it’d be nice to have a somewhat “new” start with him.

caleb notices the difference immediately. well, it’s not exactly hard to spot it when it’s in the form of lily glaring at him anytime they are near each other, as well as possibly spitting out venomous words to him.

“you piece of shit,”

“you’re a heartless monster, caleb,”

“don’t come near me,”

things along those lines were delivered to him anytime he was near her. he had apologized repeatedly to her, but each time he tried, she would just scoff and walk away. as if he was wasting his breath. and, honestly, he was. because lily didn’t want an apology from him directed to her, she only wanted him to do that for you. and also to leave her alone. whenever he comes up to her, all she can see is your teary face from that night and how he was the cause of it.

and her anger spikes up all over again. it’s a never ending cycle.

but one day, lily says something that truly leaves caleb with a hallow feeling in his chest.

“when will you realize you’re the one going to get hurt from this? you absolute idiot,” a string of curses followed that declaration, but caleb was too busy thinking about what she was implying to care too much for her profanity.

as far as he was concerned, you were just avoiding him at home and that was as far as your response to him was. you weren’t lingering anymore, yes, but he preferred it that way.

obviously.

it didn’t bother or hurt him that he’d be leaving for his own plans just as you were coming back home from work. it didn’t bother him when he notices your house keys are always gone, never returned to their original spot for hours on end, which means you’re not home. but if you’re not home and you’ve brought your home keys with you, then where were you? he knew your shifts were never longer than 24 hours, so where you spending those other eleven hours you were off the clock — since you’d obviously not be home.

not that caleb cared. because he didn’t. he was just curious, to say the least.

this is exactly what he told you to do anyway. what he said and convinced himself he meant in that heated moment.

meanwhile, as caleb was slowly turning his brain inside out trying to think of what you were getting up to nowadays, you were finally able to somewhat relax and detattch yourself from the situation.

living with zayne was awkward at first. he was a very light sleeper, you found out quite quickly. you went to get a glass of water one night when you couldn’t sleep and he was already standing in the door frame of the kitchen, messy hair standing upright in every which way.

“i didn’t mean to wake you, i’m sorry,” you apologize sincerely, shutting the cabinet door as quietly as you could.

“don’t be sorry, i was rather restless in bed. who knows, maybe being up for a bit could tire my brain out,” he pulls back the seat at the dinner table, rubbing at his eyes underneath his glasses, “are you not able to sleep?”

“it’s just weird,” you say sheepishly, taking the seat in front of him and feeling suddenly bashful at his very watchful gaze. “not sleeping at home,”

“i can only imagine,” he comforts, albeit in his usual monotone and collected voice. it does well to soothe you though, knowing that you are simply being heard was a relief in of itself. it felt like you were rarely ever even heard nowadays, “i hope sleeps finds you easier, though. late night walks to the kitchen at,” he checks the clock on the wall, “4 a.m. will hardly do you any good in the long run,”

you nod in understanding, sipping your water and just tapping the glass. then, you hear a yawn come from him. it’s an odd sight. seeing the usually composed, very precise doctor zayne yawn like a tired cat in front of you, covering his mouth with his hand as he does so. without realizing, a smile has come onto your face at the sight.

“am i so funny to you?” he deadpans, squinting his eyes at your expression.

“no, not at all, zayne, you just,” you laugh a bit before speaking your mind, “you looked so innocent, it reminded me of when we were little,”

he hums, quirking his brow, “you like reminiscing?”

you shrugged, “it’s nice to think about. before you were a slave to the medical field and were working over 20 hours a day sometimes,” he seems to think that’s an entertaining comment, the slightest upturn of his lips being a reaction to your words.

“i remember you clearly,” he says, an unreadable look on his face.

“huh?” your face must have been funny because he actually chuckled at your reaction, “that was so out of nowhere,”

“not really, you were talking about me and now i’m talking about you,” he explains smoothly, “i remember you very clearly from our childhood, that’s all i was saying.”

“like what?” you ask in curiousity, “hm, i never thought you paid me much mind. you were always thinking about bigger and better things,”

he remains silent, fingers tapping the table before settling to be still and laying his palm flat on the surface. he pushes up, standing above you and nodding his head back to the direction of the door frame, “let’s go to bed,”

“hey! you can’t just not answer the question,”

“i’m feeling rather forgetful all of a sudden, we should go to bed to regain our recollection of what we’re talking about after a good sleep,” his excuse is so lame you think it must be a joke, his unique sense of humor. that being said, it doesn’t do anything to ease your wondering, but it’s obvious he’s not going to answer you properly. right now at least.

“fine, i’m getting this answer out of you later,” you huff as you stand in front of your room’s closed door. he leans closer, reaching behind your torso and twisting the doorknob open for you. he’s so close you can smell the lingering scent of his shampoo and body wash.

“sweet dreams, [name],” he whispers quietly, smiling as he pushes the door open behind you and leaving you standing in a stunned silence.

since when was zayne so suave? you had no idea. but you were not going to stay up all night wondering what the answer to that was.

as time went on, you and zayne got closer. it was natural, of course since you are living together. but now you’re spending more time with him, rather than just rotting in your room in your despair. he often is able to lure you out with a game of kitty cards and from there, conversation just flows naturally now.

after pressing him for more answers one day, it seemed that as children zayne was very fond of you. he thought you to be more mature than lily, and caleb — who would oftentimes be the one to entertain lily and her childlike, rambunctious wonders. he liked that. you two were in the same boat when it came to tending to caleb and lily since they were younger.

and he only ever spoke positively of you when he talked about those times. there’s an odd look on his face whenever he did, too. as if he could remember all those things as clear as day, when to you, it’s all kind of blurry.

a lot of conversations looked like:

“you really don’t remember scraping your knee on the pavement so hard, you needed to be comforted for 20 minutes?”

“are you sure that was me, zayne? that sounds too much like lily,”

“monkey see, monkey do,”

“hey!!”

him telling you a story from childhood, you not remembering a single bit of it, then him poking fun at you and your younger self. you wish you knew what was so special about these moments that made him remember them so vividly, but you just chalked it up to his exceptional memory that you assumed he had. medical professional and all, he must have photographic memory…

“are you ready for work?” he asks, already waiting by the door for you. you’re grabbing your work bag and nod in response. he holds the door open for you, locking it behind you as well. then he’s clicking the car key to unlock the doors and driving the both of you to akso hospital. talks in the car are mainly you yapping about whatever is on your mind and zayne attentively listening.

that’s how he likes it, though. hearing you talk so animatedly and carefree before a long, tiring shift gives him an extra boost of energy. generally, too, he just much prefers listening to you go on tangent after tangent versus having to be the conversation starter.

like right now, as you talk with your hands, leaning on your seat in a way so that you’re more so facing him than the road. your seat belt is on, of course, but he still can’t help the nagging feeling in his mind.

“[name], sit properly, please,”

you adjust quickly, not letting his interruption stop your story time. he smiles at the simpleness of this new routine he has with you. he’s quite happy it’s all worked out to be like this, instead of possibly awkward.

it’s unfortunate what the circumstances which you got closer in were, but zayne doesn’t dwell on it further. thinking more of the future rather than the past, he just wishes it stays like this for as long as you need. selfishly, he finds you company to be the best he’s had around him in a long while.

the part where you told zayne that this arrangement would only last a week or two turned out to be an unintentional lie. to his relief and happiness, you had decided to semi-permanently move in. you didn’t haul all of your belongings from your house into his, but you did start leaving your clothes in the guest room drawer and bringing toiletries with you to keep in his bathroom. this was just the temporary solution until you found a unit that was close enough to the hospital and cheap enough for you to pay the rent there, as well as the bills that you were still responsible for at the house with lily and caleb.

lily was sad to hear your decision, but she supported you. it wasn’t like it was goodbye forever, anyway. you weren’t that far, too. if she really wanted and needed you, she would be on zayne’s front doorstep in thirty minutes by taking public transport.

the three of you were sat in a cafe, a shared favorite amongst you three, when you told her.

“so does caleb have any idea about it yet?” she asked after a beat of silence. the mention of his name made you nearly choke on your water. “sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you like that,” she watches with a bashful expression as zayne rubs up and down your back to comfort you from your coughing fit. “not that it’s really his business! i just got curious,”

“hm, have you two spoken one on one since that night?” zayne asks, eyes carefully scanning you once you stop coughing to ensure you’re okay.

“uhm, no, i haven’t told him, and no we haven’t talked,”

“you should probably tell him,” zayne murmurs, cutting into his food and wrinkling his nose when he sees a slice of carrots on his plate.

wordlessly, you move your fork over to his plate and take the vegetable, eating it as you answer, “i should tell him, but do i really have to?” your tone is almost a whine, but you’re just joking and teasing. lily giggles at it whilst zayne finds it anything but funny.

“should i accompany you when you tell him?” he asks in all seriousness.

you think about it for a moment, eating another slice of a carrot before shaking your head, “it’ll be fine, i imagine it’ll be quick,”

your heart still hurts thinking about everything he said to you that night, but you try to shake off those thoughts and feelings every time they creep up on you. you hate thinking about how much of what he said he meant, hate remembering the genuine pain in your chest that you felt in the moment. the embarrassment of it all.

zayne and lily notice your bout of silence, lily reaching across the table to hold your hand, “if you need me or zayne there tell us, okay? it’s not weak to ask for support,”

you smile weakly at her, squeezing her hand before letting go, “it’s okay, i’m a grown adult,”

“grown adult or not, facing the person who humiliated you is rather daunting of a task. perhaps, you should give him a taste of his own medicine,” zayne reasons, you assume to comfort you, when in reality you just sweatdrop at his blunt words. living and working with him though does make you somewhat used to it. as for lily, her jaw drops at zayne’s suggestion.

“zayne!” she cries out incredulously.

“what?” there’s a dumbfounded look on his face, so innocent and confused, which makes you break out into laughter.

your laugh being contangious to the both of them leaves them slowly easing into their own giggles. lily tries stiffling hers, but eventually she’s holding her stomach to ease the soreness. zayne’s lips quirk up in an open smile as he watches you laugh.

“for that one, i think zayne should treat us,”

“i hardly see how that correlates,” he shoots back instantly, a feeling of pride swell in his chest as you immediately laugh at his response. he likes being the one to make you laugh, he realizes. even if his dry humor doesn’t always land properly, he’s happy that you laugh quite often with him.

lily wipes the corner of her eyes, nodding in agreement with you, “i think that’s the perfect idea, oppa,”

“thank you for paying up, zaynie,” you tease, throwing your arm around his shoulder and pulling him in close. it’s awkward, seeing as his posture is still perfect while he sits and you are only the tiniest bit shorter than him. he is being forced to physically slouch to accommodate the height difference, all with a stoic look on his face in comparison to your very cheerful one.

it makes lily break out into laughter again at the sight.

needless to say, the lunch was a success and you all walked out of the restaurant feeling lighter.

“i’ll take you home,” you tell lily, following after her as she walks to the bus station.

she shakes her head, “no, i can’t let you do that! go home with zayne, [name],” she chides, sounding like a mom scolding their child. unfortunately for her, her tone is nothing but cute to you. so you ruffle her hair, look over your shoulder to wave bye to zayne, then hold her hand as you drag her towards the bus stop.

“hey! i said i’ll be alright,”

“i know you will, but i also needed to stop home to grab a set of scrubs anyway,” she rolls her eyes at your excuse, not sure if she should believe you or not. the two of you wait in silence for a couple of minutes before she finally speaks up.

“so, how do you feel after spending some time away from caleb?” her words are careful and slow, “any better? worse? do you hate him?”

you crack a smile at her rapid fire question, offering her a knowing look, “i think we both know me and hating caleb don’t really go in the same sentence,”

there’s a sad look in her eyes that you can very easily read, “don’t look at me like that,” you scold her, “c’mon, i’m gonna be fine.”

“how? how can you not just want to see him miserable after everything he said to you?”

you shrug your shoulders, “i don’t know, i just don’t. all i really feel towards him is,” a lot to say in such simple terms, honestly. you still harbor strong, strong, strong feelings of love and attachment to caleb, but your pride and self-respect are far too strong to make you grovel at his feet and wait for an explanation, or apology, “so much, but nothing at the same time.”

she nods in understanding, leaning on your arm as she looked ahead.

“i’m sorry, [name],” she says sincerely, “i don’t know what happened…but i feel like i’m responsible,”

immediately, you hold her shoulders and shake your head, “don’t say that, this is not your fault in any way and you do not owe me an apology,” your voice is stern, a familiar one you use only in moments of seriousness, “lily, none of this is your fault,”

“i wish i could change it, though. i wish caleb didn’t change so much,” her voice is shaky, “it’s wrong to say because caleb is caleb and maybe this is how he always was, always was meant to be, but still…i can’t help miss how things used to be. we all used to be so close and now, i hate how he’s turned out,”

you sigh, rubbing your thumb up and down her bicep as you squeeze her tight, “you don’t mean that, lily. you could never hate him, like how i could never hate him,”

she shakes her head, “your love is stronger than mine, [name]. because the only thing i feel towards him is hate, all those things he said to you, i don’t think i’d ever be able to forgive him. he tore us all apart,” her words sound like they’re coming from gritted teeth, “you are stronger and better than me, i can’t be as forgiving as you.”

you bite your lip, thinking of your next words carefully, “i really hope you never love someone as much as this, lily. because it hurts.” she sniffles at your confession, pressing further into your side, “it hurts so much. but i can’t find the will in me to hate him,” a weak and dry chuckle escapes your lips, “it’s so stupid because i’d hate anyone else that do something like this to me, to anybody i knew, i’d hate them. someone that embarassed me as much as he did, but i just can’t. not with caleb,”

“i know,” she comforts, squeezing your hand tight, “but at least this means a new chapter in your life, moving out and stuff. i know you won’t forget about me, so i’m not worried,” she manages to lighten the mood with a weak smile, “truthfully, in my opinion, he doesn’t deserve a bit of an explanation from you,”

you smile at her defensive words, finding it so endearing that she’s so protective of you and your pride.

“but you’re too kind to leave him in the dark,” she sighs.

you can only hum in response, forcing a smile once you see the bus arrive at your stop to pick you two up.

you wished that it could have been planned better. could have been orchestrated in a way where you knew everything you wanted to say, had the proper amount of confidence to say it, and then be done with it. like ripping the bandaid off.

but, of course, that doesn’t happen. instead, one of the days of the week you come back home to grab your other belongings, caleb is there and lily is not. it’s a more so “if not now, then when?” mixed in with the feeling that this opportunity shouldn’t be ignored.

so as he’s sitting in the living room, watching tv and ignoring you, you clear your throat for him to look at you.

“i’m moving out,” the words are blunt, but also misspoken, so you quickly follow up with, “well, i’m looking for a place and then i’m moving out. i’ll still be the one responsible for the bills and stuff, but…yeah, i just wanted to let you know,”

caleb’s expression is hard to read. you can’t even begin to theorize what he could be thinking because you feel like you don’t really know him anymore. he’s shut you out so well that you no longer could predict what he could say.

but you didn’t expect silence. you expected a scoff, a “who cares?” or any other snide remark. but instead you got silence.

you can’t help the crushing feeling of disappointment fill you, the feeling that he really, truly doesn’t care enough about you to even say anything. so you fill the silence, promising this was the last of it and you’d be out the door, “i’ll be out of your way now, just as you wanted, but i’ll still be here for you if you or lily need anything. just call or text me whenever, okay?”

more silence, but at least now he’s looking at you. his purple eyes are zeroed in on you and his eyebrow is furrowed and pinched together, lips in a thin line. if you had describe it objectively, you’d say he looks conflicted. but realistically, this was probably just him getting ready to amp up whatever insult he was going to direct to you.

so you turn away from his gaze and walk towards the door. except, you really can’t move your muscles after the first couple of steps. it’s as if the air around you is holding you hostage. you panic for a moment, struggling where you’re stuck before remembering the one thing that can cause this. caleb’s evol was stopping you from moving any closer to the door.

“you’re leaving? is that what you’re telling me?” his voice is now centimeters behind you and you barely have the strength to turn and look at him.

“caleb, stop your evol! this isn’t comfort-“

“you said you’re leaving?” he persists and you wince at the feeling of his hard grip around your wrist. he turns you to face him, still holding you still with his gravity, and forces you to back up in the wall behind you.

now you can see his face clearly. he’s angry, it seems. his eyes are dark, teeth gritted against each other and his shoulders are square and broad, as if he’s sizing you up to intimidate you.

“caleb, turn off your evol, now,” you muster up the strength in your voice to say that, but that was enough to get you breathless.

“why? so you can just walk out that door?” he laughs, a dry, humorless laugh. it’s almost like he’s mocking you.

if only you could really see inside of his head right now. you’d be more terrified than him simply mocking you. you’d be scared to see how fast his mind was racing, the crazy conclusions he was jumping to, the unethical solutions he was thinking of to keep you here. to make you stay.

“well, i need to go back to- caleb, just turn it off,” you’re getting restless now and annoyed. he’s throwing such a temper tantrum just to taunt you and you won’t take it anymore. you want nothing more than to leave.

while caleb will do everything in his power to make you stay.

“go back to where? this is your home.” his words throw you off, the stern tone he takes with you making you blink rapidly in confusion, “this is your home, this house is where you belong and where you will stay. where are you possibly going back to? some dingy, disgusting motel?”

why does he suddenly care? you tilt your head to the side, looking at him with an offended expression, “caleb, you don’t get to care now where i go. all that’s your business is that i need to go and i don’t want to be here anymore,”

“you’re not leaving! stop saying you’re going to leave!” he shouts and it throws you so off guard you flinch backwards, “you’re not leaving! okay?! i won’t let you leave, you’re not going anywhere. you belong here, you stay here, you don’t get to leave!”

he’s shouting now, voice booming and it feels like its rattling the walls around you.

“what is wrong with you?!” you shout back, trying to fight against his evol. just to push him away from you or something, anything to create distance between you two.

“what is wrong with me?!” he laughs as he repeats it, glaring at you, “no, no, no, what’s wrong with you?! why does you always want to leave, always want to fucking leave me?! what is wrong with you?”

“caleb, what the fuck are you talking about?! you literally told me two weeks ago you didn’t want me in your life anymore!”

“you’re not supposed to leave,” his voice is quiet now, as if he’s talking to himself as he shakes his head repeatedly ‘no’, “you’re supposed to come back home and stay here, you’re not supposed to leave. don’t leave…you’re not allowed,”

“i’m not allowed? what am i, you’re little brother or something? a little lost boy you have to watch over?”

for some reason that ticks him off even more because now he’s yelling again, “don’t say that! don’t! you’re not any of those things to me!”

“oh, you’re right, i’m nothing more than the dirt under your shoe, you’re right,” you sarcastically exclaim, trying your best to move beneath the pressure of his evol, “caleb, let me go home,”

“this is your home! where else is your home?!” something flickers in his eyes and a crazed look comes across his face, “who is it? what is it? tell me right now or i swear to fucking god,”

he’s now pressed against you, chest to chest as he begs for answers, repeating the same questions over and over. you avoid his face being close to yours by turning to the side and snarling, “why is that any of your business?”

“so there is someone? what is it? who is it? who is it?” he’s repeats once more, grabbing your cheek and forcing you to look at him, “tell me. who is it this time? who’s taking you from me again?”

this is the most erratic he’s been the entire night, and that’s saying something, “what? this time- caleb, what the fuck are you talking about? i’m not telling you anything,”

“i deserve to know,”

“uh, no, actually, you don’t!”

“i deserve to know who’s taking you from me again. who i need to go and fucking kill.”

“what are you talking about?!” you scream, genuinely being at a loss of words at what he had just said, “are you going insane or something?! what are you talking about, caleb?”

his face looks devoid of emotion, but he keeps talking with the same amount of passion and feeling, “you’re leaving me, again, to go back to someone else. you’re leaving me for someone else. tell me who it is and i’ll go kill them,” he repeats it as if he’s just reading off simple, boring current events.

“caleb, what has gotten into you? why, why are you…like this,” your questions is ragged and asked with such levels of venom it makes caleb visibly flinch.

then, he’s laughing, an empty laugh.

“why am i like this?” he pauses, tilting his head back and breathing in a deep breath, “you’re the one who did this to me. you’re the one who made me like this, you don’t get to ask why i am like this.” you blink in confusion, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

“this is all your fault. if you hadn’t left, if you didn’t leave me here, all alone, none of this would be happening. you wouldn’t have to ask why am i like this — if you just stayed!” his voice is shaky now, “you left me first and i’ve been like this ever since. do you know what that does to a person? to see the one person you love and care about leave without even looking back? you didn’t even care you were leaving me to die. you didn’t even,” he pauses, breathing going ragged and now you’re genuinely concerned for his well being, “you didn’t even look back at me. you didn’t care, you were the one who left and you didn’t even care.”

now you’re speechless. what the hell was caleb talking about?

“you don’t even know what i’m talking about — that’s how little you care about me,” he accuses, pushing against you and forcing you to look into his eyes, which have now become teary, “you’re the reason i’m like this, [name]. you’re the reason why i won’t let you leave again. you don’t get to leave, don’t be so fucking selfish,”

“what the hell is wrong with you caleb!? you call me the meanest things, you say the most vile shit you could say to someone who cares about you — and now you’re calling me selfish on top of it, for what? for choosing to no longer be near you, just like you asked?! you asked for me to get out of this house, so i’m leaving! what does it matter to you-”

caleb falters and it looks as if he’s remembering everything he said to you. as if there’s flashes of memories going on in his mind.

“[name], please don’t leave,” as if a switch flipped in his head, his voice goes soft, “don’t leave me, please, please don’t leave. i’ll explain everything to you if you promise me to not leave,”

“i don’t want an explanation from you anymore, caleb,” you sneer, thinking his request insane and disrespectful, “you didn’t let me into your life for so long and now you’re begging me to stay, promising me an explanation? as if a singular explanation could justify how you’ve been treating me,”

“i’m not saying it will justify it, i just have to tell you, to make you see from my perspect-”

“caleb, i really don’t want to have this conversation with you. from what you’ve told me, you want nothing else to do with me anymore — i’m giving you that out, right now. i don’t want to hear it,” you’re surprised with your own steady voice, but you’re proud of yourself for speaking so steadily, so sternly. his evol finally loosens off of you and this makes you immediately push him away.

“don’t go, i’m begging you, [name], don’t go. don’t go,” his voice is shaky and his grip on your wrist is so tight it almost hurts. just as you were about to reach for the door, he had grabbed your hand. and after securing your wrist in his hold, he dropped to his knees and tugged hard, as if he was trying to weigh you down to the floor with him. “don’t go, i’ll tell you everything, please,”

“caleb, i’m not-”

“you left, for university. and you didn’t even think twice before leaving me here, you left me here alone. and i hated you for it. you left without any regret or remorse, you acted as if you didn’t even care when in reality you were scarring me. i hated you for that, hated that you so easily chose something else over me, when i would never do that to you,” his words were rushed, knowing that it was now or never, “we were inseparable and you didn’t even care that you would be so far from me, that’s why i’m so bitter and i can’t let you leave now. do you understand now? i can’t let you walk out that door,”

you blink, processing his words. he waits for a reaction, any reaction from you. waits for you to realize what memories he’s talking about, waits for you to tell him your side of the story. then finally, you take in a deep breath and say, “are you fucking kidding me, caleb?”

he flinches at your harsh tone, tightening his hold on you as he realizes you might actually leave now.

“you berated me, you humiliated me, you harassed me — for years! — just because i went to another university?! a university that i went to for the betterment of this entire house?! that school was one of the only schools that gave us scholarship money, it helped keep you guys afloat here and you’re telling me; you’re mad at me for choosing that place?!” you’re screaming now, a frantic look in your eyes. this was the entire reason caleb hated you for years, or supposedly hated you? “you chose to bully me and belittle me for years because you thought i didn’t care?! i had to choose that school, caleb, or else we would’ve been without a home, without a place to sleep.

“josephine’s money was running low — i had to take that university’s scholarship offer or else we all would’ve been fucked!”

“then why didn’t you tell me that?” he practically cries, tears glistening in his eyes as his lip trembles.

“you were just a kid, none of that was your business! if i had told you, you would have tried scraping together some money, god knows how, and i didn’t want to push that responsibility onto you!” you shout back, feeling so incredibly frustrated you couldn’t contain it in the mature way you usually would.

“josephine was running out of money?” he echoes, catching that detail, “you told me that her will was paying off our bills and would be able to for a long time?”

“yes, of course i’d lie about that to you! you were too young to know the truth! why do you think i started working at the hospital instead of getting my master’s degree?! we need money, you asshole, and i had to pick up extra shifts to not worry about you, how i was getting food onto our table, and how to keep this house as our own!” you try tugging your hand away, but caleb is holding onto it like it’s a lifeline, “every single decision i’ve made was for you and lily. i love you two too much and all i’ve gotten from you caleb was spite and hatred. you cannot expect me to care at all about the reasoning behind your behavior — all i know is that you treated me like shit for years, for no reason,”

“you never told me,” he brokenly whispered, nuzzling into your palm. he mimicked a dog begging for forgiveness, “you never told me, i would’ve helped and i would’ve understood,”

“would you have? because last i remembered, you said me picking up extra shifts and complaining about being tired made me weak and useless!”

“i would’ve helped!”

“it’s not about you not helping or not knowing, caleb! it’s about you being a dickhead for no reason!” your breathing is shaky and you work up the courage to say, “do you have any idea how it feels to hear the one person you love say how much they despise you?”

that makes caleb’s grip falter. his head snaps up to look at you, still on his knees in front of you, “what?”

“i loved you, caleb. so much. but i don’t think i love you enough to begin to even understand your whole reasoning behind this behavior. you hurt me in the worst ways possible, calling me clingy and useless. can you even imagine what that feels like, caleb?” you take a deep breath, “it’s as if lily told you she hated you and wished you stop trying to be in her life, if that’ll help you understand,”

caleb’s head tilts to the side, “how is this about lily? what do you mean you loved me? what do you mean by that, [name]?”

you scoff at his question, rubbing your free wrists to ease the tender flesh, “i don’t need to explain to yo-”

“i love you, too,” he confesses quickly, rushing his words to ensure you hear him and his confession.

you’re shocked, genuinely feeling as if your heart dropped to your stomach. he’s still nuzzling his face into your palm that he’s holding in an iron grip, looking up at you expectingly. he didn’t mean that, you tell yourself. it’s another sick way of his to hurt you.

“caleb, let me go,” you say, willing yourself to speak despite wanting to just vomit out your guts. this was so painful, more painful that you expected it to be. why was caleb so deadset on hurting you so much?

“no, no, i won’t let you-“

“caleb, please.”

“i won’t-“

“caleb, let me go.”

he hears the difference in your tone. there’s not even an ounce of emotion, no anger, no sadness, no begging. just monotone with a stoic look on your face.

“[name], i love-“

“caleb, stop it, i’m tired. please, just let me go,” you plead with him, voice and resolve weak as you can’t will yourself to speak any louder than this hushed tone.

“no, listen, i love you too that’s why i can’t let you go. i’ve loved you since we were children and that’s why you leaving hurt me so much, but now i understand, hyung. i understand and i’m not mad and i’ll stop being such an asshole and i’ll be better, please. just don’t leave again, please? this is your home, isn’t it? stay, please,” caleb’s words are rushed, fighting the urge to hug your legs to his chest to truly prevent you from running away. but, he thinks that his confession of his true emotions are enough. or, he hopes they are.

of course, it isn’t enough. his words just leave you looking even more devoid of emotions and tired than you were before this conversation started.

“caleb, please let me go,”

“no. hyung, please say something…i just, i can’t lose you again, please.”

“what do you want me to say? what? that i love you too?” your voice is still missing that anger that you wanted to convey, but you had no energy to. but the look in your eyes alone show the passion you have in setting caleb straight, “i’d be fucking lying, caleb. i don’t think i could love you the same way i did before. this is completely,” you shake your hand, finally being able to set yourself free and rushing backwards from him, “untrue, you don’t mean a single word right now. you’re just lying to get me to stay, a last ditch resort.”

“that’s not true! what can i do to make you see i mean it? tell me, [name], i will show you. i’m not lying, i mean it,” his voice cracks and he clears his throat as he holds you tight, “don’t leave me please, i’ll prove it to you, i’ll show you,”

“you’re going to show me? caleb, just let me go,” you sigh, shaking your hand out of his and finally feeling some relief to see that he actually let go, “you need to set yourself right before you can prove anything to me, caleb. i honestly am not interested in you doing any of that either, so i’m not promising you anything. i still care for you and i love-” you cut yourself off mid sentence, knocking your forehead with your closed fist to physically prevent yourself from slippning up. with a deep breath, you continue on, “i’ll take care of everything still, but it’d probably be best if we just left it at that,”

“left what?” his eyes look as if they’re shaking in worry and fear.

“just sort yourself out first, caleb.” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and moving to walk out, not turning back once to look at him.

a million thoughts were running through caleb’s mind. you were actually walking away from him and it sounded as if you had no intent in ever coming back. it’s just like before…but then he wondered, what if he made you stay this time? didn’t let you just up and leave like he did before when you were children?

he was stronger than you, his evol alone gave him an advantage. he could bring you into the house again, force that door shut and locked and make it so you’d have no escape. keep you here until you worked through all your differences.

but then he remembers that look on your face earlier, the sheer, utter disappointment on your face when you learned the truth. caleb hates disappointing you, but he hates seeing you walk away from him perhaps even more.

he couldn’t even form a proper coherent thought though because he noticed you were gone before he could have acted on any of his impulsive desires. he leaned forward, falling slowly onto the ground until his forehead was touching the wooden flooring.

he didn’t know how long he stayed there, but he does recall lily rushing to his side and forcing him up. he didn’t hear anything she was saying, but he could tell she was speaking to him.

“what happened? why were you on the floor?” she asks him, roughly dropping him onto the couch. as much as she wished she didn’t care about his wellbeing since she was so mad a him, it wasn’t in her nature to just leave him on the floor like that.

”did you know?”

“know what?”

“know that he’s leaving, did you know?” the words are hoarse and caleb is now hyper aware of how dry his throat feels.

a look of realization flashes on her face and now it all makes sense now. why he was so stationary on the floor earlier, weighing his body down as she tried moving him from his spot.

“yeah, i knew,” she didn’t bother saying anything more than that, watching him carefully.

“and you didn’t tell me?”

“caleb, respectfully, fuck you,” she said, going to walk away, rolling her eyes at his glare that was now fully directed at her.

“you didn’t tell me, lily. why didn’t you tell me?”

“why is it your business?”

“it’s my business!” he shouts so loud that it makes her jerk backwards in shock. that snaps her out of her stupor, throwing the pillow on the cushions at his face with no remorse and stomping off to her room. “why the fuck didn’t you tell me, lily?! why?!”

“caleb, shut up!” she shouts, going to her room and locking the door behind her. “as if you would’ve cared,”

“i care! i care more than you ever could!” he accuses her, banging his fist on the door to get her to open it, “where is he going? where is he staying now? is it some hotel? just give me a name and i’ll go and fix this all! it’ll be like before, when we were kids! don’t you want me to fix this?”

lily runs a hand over her face and goes to unlock her phone, opening her messenger app. she sends a quick text to zayne, not wanting to stress you out with this right now, and explains to him the situation. she warns him to be more careful now, worried that somehow caleb may put two and two together. just to be cautious of his surroundings and to not tell caleb too much about your current whereabouts.

“i know you know lily, just tell me, c’mon,” his voice is softer now, but she doesn’t give in. she just changes out of her outside clothes, goes to her bed and lays down, waiting for caleb to go away as she scrolls on her phone. she tries to not pay attention to his presence outside her door, but every now and then she hears the doorknob jiggle and she has to fight the urge to shout at him.

zayne looked at his phone screen with furrowed eyebrows, dropping it onto his desk after re-reading the texts a couple of times. he looks over at the schedule for his shift, noting down the fact that they were surprisingly overstaffed for the night. there was another surgeon that was working his area, along with their own team and the patients that were under his care were not high tonight.

he pocketed his phone, fixed his glasses and grabbed all of his belongings. he walked out of his office and made a beeline to yvonne.

“there is an emergency i must attend to, please tell the team i apologize for this, but i really must go,” yvonne didn’t even bother masking her shock. in all of her time working at the hospital, this was the first time zayne was early dismissing himself. of course, it was for an emergency, but that didn’t make it any less odd to see zayne walking away seven hours before his actual shift ended.

there would usually be repercussions done onto whoever was performing such reckless actions, but this was dr. zayne they were talking about. he was too good at his job and attendance for anyone to really say anything.

the doctor walked through the streets, a grocery bag hanging from his nimble fingers and swaying with each step he took. in the bag were a different assortment of items that had little to nothing in common with each other. it was your care package, zayne assuming you needed some support and food from them.

he arrived at his apartment and noticed how quiet it was. he sighed, discarding his jacket and shoes before going to his room to change into more comfortable clothes. he was already very clean and tidy, but living with you after a while, he noticed a certain quirk that you had.

you never set yourself to lay down in bed with your “outside” clothes on. even to just sit on the mattress was unheard of for you.

zayne picked up on this habit himself rather quickly because he agreed with the intention behind it and also because he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to rest with you unless he did change. so he changed first, into his more casual, pajama-esque clothes and knocked on your door.

“[name]? can i come in?”

he heard a sniffle behind the door and he bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. you didn’t deserve to cry, no less due to whatever it is that caleb and you discussed.

“i don’t think i’d be good company right now, zayne,” you honestly tell him, voice somewhat shaky from the behind the door.

“nonsense,” he immediately says in return, “allow me to drop off these things i bought for you, then,”

you sigh, rubbing your sensitive, dried with tears eyes and walk towards the door. twisting the knob slowly, you see zayne standing there with a sad look on his face and a bag full of goodies for you.

“for you,” he holds the bag up to show you and steps into your room. he gently places them onto your table and frowns when he sees you not even have the energy to look into the bag, “do you want to talk about it? i can’t assure you i’d be the best fit for you to tell your feelings to since i don’t think i can offer much wisdom, but i am here for you.”

you look up at him with sad eyes, presenting a deflated and dejected figure that makes you seem smaller than you really are. he hates the sight of you like this, teary eyed, the tip of your nose red, your sleeves damp with tears. he hates to see you so heartbroken.

“no, i think i’ll be fine,” you decided after a moment of silence, “i think i can manage for the rest of the day. i’ll be fine by tomorrow morning,”

“why? do you have important plans tomorrow morning?” he asks, which you shake your head to, “then why do you insist you will be fine by tomorrow? there is no rush for you to force yourself to feel better. we can talk whenever you feel up for it,” zayne’s voice, opposite of yours, was stern and sounded confident.

his kind words make your bottom lip tremble, the utter sincerity already making your eyes tear up once again. he notices it and immediately begins fretting over your reaction, “i’m sorry, i did not mean to make you cry!”

“no, it’s not because of you zayne- well, it is, but they’re not bad tears,” you quickly explain, feeling bad to see him so worried about his wording.

he sighs, in what you assume is relief, as he speaks softly, “tell me about what is bothering you whenever you are ready, [name],” he speaks with authority, as if commanding you to at least listen to his words, “i don’t like seeing you sad,”

the words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can think of reeling them back in, leaving both of you shocked at his sudden confession. he masks it better than you can, though, who looked up at him with your red eyes blown wide.

”that’s really kind of you, zayne,”

“it’s just the truth,” he settles on your bed, looking off to the side as he thinks about how he can make you feel better. if you didn’t want to let out your problems for him to listen to, he supposes distracting you and taking your mind off of the situation at hand could do you some good as well. “when we were kids, i didn’t like seeing you sad either,”

“you seem to remember so much from our childhood while i can’t remember anything,” your pout makes the corners of his lips upturn just the slightest.

“doctor’s memory,” he jokes, tapping the side of his temple with his pointer finger and smiling when he sees it gets you to grin ever so slightly. “when we were children, i found that whenever you got sad, there was almost always the same thing being the root of your sadness. either caleb or lily,”

your eyes watch him carefully as he reminisces on the details of it all, “they were — are — your entire world and i don’t blame you for being so emotionally invested in them,” he speaks carefully, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. but he wants to be honest with you, “the way caleb had a sway on your emotions then and now is hardly any different, but you can change that, [name]. back then, i never said anything because you were happy and it would only be moments of sadness. now, i can no longer bite my tongue. there must be something done to stop your tears from being wasted-” he cuts himself off, finding himself going on a tangent longer than he intended.

it’s silent for a moment and he almost wishes he could just up and walk out of the room right then and there to save himself from his embarrassment. until you chuckle softly and lean back into the pillows behind you.

“you remember a lottt more than i thought,” was the first thing you said, doing little to ease his anxiousness, “but, you’re right, i suppose. i care so much, maybe too much — as caleb said before, it’s coming back to bite me in the ass,”

“caring too much is not the issue,” zayne’s head shakes in disagreement, “it is the fact caleb has abused that care for many years, he expects kindness and special treatment from you despite doing nothing to return those same gestures to you. that is what makes this situation wrong,”

zayne defends you as passionately as if he were defending himself. his eyebrows are furrowed together, as if he is genuinely confused or very frustrated at the situation, hands palming at his knees as he tries to calm his evol from spiking, and his leg jittery the slightest bit as it bounces up and down from the floor.

“you are not the one at fault in this, [name]. i don’t know much about what you two exchanged or said, but i do know that much. there is nothing you could have done that would be considered wrong,” he comforts, looking at you so intensely it almost makes you break eye contact.

“thanks, zayne,” is all you can muster, genuinely speechless at the articulate way zayne defends you while also, shockingly, critiquing caleb rather brutally.

a part of you deep down already knew these things all along, but to hear someone else verbalize them had made you feel levels of validation you didn’t know were possible. the insecurities that caleb had planted in your mind regarding your “clingy” nature and “overbearing” attitude were still present, but to hear zayne speak so casually of that behavior and seemingly validate it definitely made you feel better.

“i’m glad i could be of any help,” he smiles softly at you before standing up, “please, indulge yourself in everything i had bought — it’s all for you,”

you look over at the bag on your table, nodding ever so slightly. “thank you again, i really appreciate it,”

”of course, don’t mention it.”

as the days gradually went by, you and zayne talked about everything that you and caleb had said to each other. to your surprise, instead of remaining as neutral as you expected him to , he was rather biased in your favor and even made several snide comments about caleb and his childish attitude. his expressions were a bit entertaining too, scowls and sneers whenever you mention caleb’s behavior. it was a little refreshing to see him so expressive.

the usual stoic and level-headed zayne was replaced with the best reactive listener, lending you all the support you had needed in youurtimes of vulnerability.

“just to clarify, he does not know you are living with me, right?” zayne asked you one day, in his office while you two were on your lunch break. assuming he was talking about caleb, you nodded your head in confirmation.

“i think it’d be best if he didn’t know,” you murmur, voice trailing off as you tried to imagine caleb finding out. he never really played well with zayne, ever since they were children. the doctor used to view him neutrally, but now he definitely shares his fair amount of distaste towards him. caleb very obviously never liked him.

“just wanted to make sure because yvonne just notified me that a, and i quote, very angry looking, muscular, tall, and handsome man is demanding i speak with him in the lobby, end quote. was just wondering how i should approach the situation is all,” he grabs one of his napkins to wipe his face, then stands up, making you immediately follow.

“if he’s out there, you do not have to talk to him,” you say in a stern voice, “zayne, this is the only chance we get at some peace and quiet in here, don’t you think we should spend the time winding down?”

“we have approximately twenty minutes left of our meal, i plan to make this a quick five. now, i’d ask you to stay here, but it’s unfair if you obey my orders whilst i disregard your own. just please, let me handle it. i’d rather he not focus on you and say something else absurd,” zayne requests, making you roll your eyes and open the door.

you weren’t just going to stand there and be silent if caleb tried to pull some disrespectful behavior, but you’ll try holding your tongue until that moment occurs. zayne rushes to walk in front of you, adjusting his white coat as he does so. he sees caleb before you, tall frame covering the man from your sight.

“where’s [name]?” caleb asks, seemingly not seeing as you followed behind zayne’s much taller figure.

“caleb, this is highly inappropriate,”

“zayne, just answer the question,” caleb groans, stepping forward as if he were trying to walk past zayne. but as he got closer he finally caught sight of your figure, a wide smile stretching across his face as he tried to get to you, “[name]!” he called to you cheerfully.

he was about to reach for you, but zayne had lifted his arms up and blocked him from doing so, “i thought i told you this was inappropriate,”

caleb’s violet eyes narrowed and he glared at zayne with no shame, “this is a really personal matter, dr. zayne,” he spits out the title like venom, “so i suggest you move out of my way and let me talk to him,”

“we have nothing to talk about,” at the sound of your voice, caleb looks like he almost physically goes weak in the knees. he turns to you like a puppy hearing their owner’s voice after a long time and if he had a tail, it’d be going a couple hundred miles an hour right now.

“[name], don’t say that. there’s so much we need to talk about. please?”

“as if i’d allow you to interrupt our work right now,” zayne emphasizes the word ‘work,’ reminding caleb just exactly where he is.

“i couldn’t give a shit if you were working, i need to talk to him. what is your problem, zayne? since when did you even care when i talk to [name]?”

“since it is now interrupting our work schedule,” zayne’s eyes narrow as well, “i care if it involves him regardless,”

caleb’s genuine smile was replaced with a sarcastic, mocking look on his face, “oh you care? well, if you care for your own well-being, then you’d get out of my way,” he goes to shoulder shove zayne out of the way, but the doctor reacts so fast it surprises you.

his hand, which was slightly icy now, lands on caleb’s shoulder and holds him still, “caleb, you have to leave. this is not the place you wish to act out in, our security will be called on you if you take a step further,”

“your security doesn’t scare me,” caleb attempts shaking off zayne’s grip, but it only makes the doctor tighten his hold.

“then i will personally deal with you,”

“oh, you definitely don’t scare me,” caleb turns to zayne, voice lowering so it was only audible to the doctor, “get your hand off of me before i make you a patient. i need to talk to [name] and i’m in no mood to deal with you right now,”

“and [name] so eagerly wishes to speak to you?” zayne’s snide remark is delivered with such harshness you almost flinch for caleb, “he does not want to speak to you,”

“you know what he wants?” caleb’s voice is dangerous now and the room begins to feel heavier, “remind me where were you in our childhood all the other times he needed somebody? were you there?”

”i would have been if i was not shut out,” zayne’s voice raises ever so slightly and that comment makes you tilt your head in confusion.

caleb’s teeth grit in frustration, “know your place,”

“my place is with [name]. you should know yours because i assure it is not with him and it is not here,”

that goads a physical reaction from caleb, who slams his forearm into zayne’s chest and forcefully pushes him into the wall, “what did you just say?”

yvonne is scrambling to call for security, her voice rushed and she gives them your guys’ current location and how they have to hurry. you rush to pry caleb off of zayne, but the doctor raises his hand and shakes his head to prevent you from interfering.

“you are nothing to him, you’re simply his boss. i’m the only person that deserves to say my place is with him. zayne, watch your tongue,” caleb’s words are almost hard to understand with how tight his jaw is clenched. “don’t make me-

“make you what? pin me to a wall and use your evol? you’ve already done that caleb, what more could you possibly want from this entire debacle?”

caleb’s dry laugh echoes in the tense environment, “oh, you don’t want to know what i wish i could do to you. for standing in my way, for not knowing your feeble significance, for stopping me from just talking to [name],” as caleb lists these things out, you feel yourself growing restless in being quiet and inactive.

so you move forward and place both hands on caleb’s shoulders and pull with all your strength to get him off of zayne. it works, pulling him back far enough that you can plant yourself in between him and zayne.

“caleb, security is going to come to escort you out soon and i suggest you collect yourself before they do. unless you wish for more severe measures to be done onto you,” your tone is curt and emotionless, caleb’s widely blown eyes watching you carefully as if he’s trying to memorize your face, mannerisms, and even your vocabulary.

as he watches you turn to zayne and quickly ask if he is alright, he feels his anger be almost pushed past a breaking point. since when did you two care at all for each other? he tries to chalk it up to your gracefully natural caring personality, but something about the way you so softly address zayne that makes him feel unsettled. your kind expression directed at zayne while you could spare him nothing but a stoic glare.

since when was this the way you were going to treat him? he thought a couple of days could have been enough for you to be open to talking to him. is there something he’s missing? why in the world did you suddenly care about zayne and if he was “okay”? what about him? because he’s not okay at all, not since you left him a couple of days ago. he hasn’t known peace since then. so why weren’t you checking up on him?

he feels his hatred for zayne grow every millisecond he watches you fret over him. that should be him who you were so carefully tending to, not zayne.

he can’t even say anything else that could be held liable against him because the uniforms of security guards cut into his vision. their words are muffled to his ears as he watches you guide zayne away, your hand grabbing the doctor’s icy ones with a concerned look on your face. caleb swears he sees red for a split second at your close contact.

something here wasn’t right.

as he was kicked out of the hospital, with little resistance from his end, he feels himself grow more and more focused on your guys’ closeness. you defended zayne, checked in on him, even went out of your way to touch him — while all he got was a glare and words that almost sounded robotic. this wasn’t right. caleb couldn’t accept this. he couldn’t sleep if this is the only thing racing through his mind.

so he put his good snooping stalking skills to use.

the cameras on the perimeter of the hospital were easy for him to gain access to. he’s done worse, anyway. he watches all the employee exits, clicking the one that he sees you and zayne walk out of and he nearly breaks something in his anger when he sees zayne open his car door for you, meanwhile you’re entering his car with a laidback, tired smile.

since when did zayne ever give you rides to and from work? how did that make sense? that never happened even when you were still living in this home of yours. not once did zayne ever step up to drop you off. this was completely unnatural.

caleb shivers at the sight of you climbing into zayne’s car. his mind was racing. was zayne even a safe driver? that car he was driving, caleb didn’t trust it. what was the level of safety that that car even had? it didn’t look safe. and even if it was. caleb did not trust zayne with your safety at all.

you were only safe with him.

it didn’t take caleb much more effort to follow the drive that you two were on. this was needed, anyway. he’d finally be able to find out where you were staying, he could drop by in the morning and fix this with you, a one-on-one conversation.

imagine the look on caleb’s face when he watched you and zayne both leave his car, walk up to an apartment complex’s entrance, take the elevator all the way up to where the private estates were, and then disappear behind the sleek door.

his face was stoic, emotionless as he breathed raggedly, uneven as he tried to control his anger. this was unacceptable. he wasn’t dumb or naive enough to come up with a childish excuse as to why this was happening, why you were brought to zayne’s home. he knew exactly why.

the room began shaking, books and notepads from caleb’s shelves and desks were levitating, sporadically falling and being tossed every which way. a ruckus was being made, loud enough it drew lily out of her room. she was yelling profanities at him for causing such a disturbance in the middle of the night, but then she saw it. the computer screen that had the cctv footage of that familiar hallway. she gulped and looked nervous, something caleb noticed immediately.

“you knew,” he growls, fists clenching at his sides and making the things in his room go even more haywire and move unpredictably through the air. he hasn’t lost control of his evol like this since he was a teenager. coincidentally, you were the cause of that episode as well.

lily immediately shook her head no, suspiciously too fast seeing as caleb didn’t say anything besides the single question.

“you didn’t tell me,” he continues on voice rough as he force the door to shut behind her and effectively trapping her in his room where his own emotional tornado was ripping through all of his belongings. “you knew that he was spending time with [name], living with him,” caleb cuts his own imaginative theories off to prevent himself from actually turning blood hungry, and attempts to move past that detail, “you knew and didn’t tell me? lily, be honest, do you even care for me fixing things with him? do you really just want me to not try fixing this?”

“you had your chance,” she shakily defends herself, but he’s not taking that as an answer so easily.

“i’m making another one,” he says curtly, “you are okay with him living with zayne, of all people?”

“zayne is better suited to take care of him more than you ever could!”

“no one is better for him that me! why does no one understand that?! you think he’s better, you think you’re better?!” caleb’s voice raises with no warning, making lily screw her eyes shut, “lily, you are lucky i think of you as my sister or else you’d be dead to me by now. dead.”

she can’t even bring herself to hide her relief when she feels the door slightly crack open behind her, swinging it open and immediately running away to her own. she is tempted to call you, notify you of how scary caleb’s behavior has turned. but just as she was about to ring you up, she thought about how much you already had on your plate.

she couldn’t afford to add more onto it, especially when you were already so stressed out about caleb to begin with. if she told you everything that happened just now, she’d be forcing you to deal with him when everything was still so fresh. that wasn’t something lily wanted to make you do.

so she’ll stay silent about it for now. but honestly, she doesn’t know how long she could possibly tolerate this aggressive behavior from caleb. the caleb that was once so sweet to her, and you, was seemingly long gone.

the only remedy was you.

caleb knows he shouldn’t be here. knows that it would only make you more angry and annoyed with him if you knew he was here. but he couldn’t help it. ever since he had found out you were now living with zayne, he had grown obsessive in constantly knowing what was going on between you two. he, unfortunately, could not gain access to the inside of zayne’s apartment. but he still was able to see the cameras at the entrance and exit of the apartment building. which is when he would time his departure from his house and go out to follow wherever you two were going, eyes trained on his phone screen as he walked to match your guys’ pace.

he felt sick every time he saw the two of you hang out so casually, so intimately. he learned that you and zayne enjoyed frequently cafes together, so long as there was a dessert menu for zayne.

that big man baby, caleb thought to himself.

you’d always order a drink to keep you energized while zayne got some sugary sweet treat. caleb hands balled into fists as he saw you two share your orders together, you taking bites from zayne’s spoon and zayne sipping directly from your cup. it actually made him feel sick to his stomach.

he watched zayne offer you your napkin, the tiniest smile on his face as he watched you carefully clean your messes up. that was supposed to be him, caleb was the only one meant to be this close to you. he wishes you could have just heard him out and understood his explanation, then you wouldn’t be so far out of reach from him and he wouldn’t be creepily watching you a couple of shops down as you now spent all your free time with zayne.

caleb hated zayne for taking that spot next to you which was meant to only be reserved for him.

after a couple of days of watching and seething where he sat, caleb decided to take the risk in texting you to ask you to talk. he was worried you would block him the instant he sent it, but was easily reminded of your level headed behavior and how that would be very unlike you when he saw that you texted him back hours later.

you agreed. lily offhandedly mentioned to you an episode caleb had that was rather intense and assuming the worst, which is what happened, you assumed that he had seriously scared her in that influx of emotions. that was enough for you to swallow down your current personal feelings and approach this conversation in respect of lily and her peace of mind. caleb’s behavior is inexcusable, especially so when it involves scaring lily.

“caleb, i only came back because we seriously need to talk about you and your behavior,” your voice is stern, that familiar tone you used to use on him when you two were younger. it was the first thing you said to him the moment he walked into the room. not even a simple greeting, he realizes with a devoid look in his eyes.

“do you want any water? anything to eat? i can make your-”

“just please, sit down,”

“you don’t want to talk in your bedroom? somewhere more comfortable?”

“you’re lucky i didn’t choose the restaurant down the street instead of the kitchen, so how about being a little more compliant?”

he didn’t respond to that, gulping and taking the seat at the dinner table that was across from where you were sitting. you followed soon after him, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning into the back of your chair.

”you need to quit taking your frustrations out on things around you. do you understand that you’re scaring lily? and if anything happens to her, anything that you do so much as give her a bad dream at night, i’ll take her away from this place — from you, and make it so you’d never be able to hurt her again,”

“i don’t mean to hurt her, or scare her,” caleb quickly cuts in, trying to make you understand — once again, “i just…get so frustrated sometimes. you’re not here anymore — even though you easily could just come back! — and i don’t know where else to put those feelings,”

you scoff, “right because before you’d just take it all out on me,” your eyebrows furrow and caleb feels hope bloom in his chest as he thinks he sees concern on your face, “caleb, why are you so frustrated? what is making you so angsty all the time? it’s been weeks since we last talked-”

“time doesn’t change anything, it only makes things worse,” he weakly chuckles, almost not believing that you really didn’t understand what your absence does to him. has he not already made it obvious how detrimental you not being here has been on his mental health? “i can’t do anything knowing that you hate me,”

your breath hitches and your demeanor shifts ever so slightly, “caleb, i don’t hate you. i never said that,”

he blinks at you, wide eyed and the smallest quirk on the ends of his mouth, “really?”

your outer expression hardens at his words, catching his tone immediately, “don’t. i thought we already established i was quite far from hating you. but we aren’t here to talk about that-”

“why can’t we?”

”i don’t want to,”

“well, i need to. i need to talk about it with you, [name].” caleb’s breathing is shaky as he hesitantly reaches across the table to hold your hand in his, fingers shaking as he does so, “i don’t understand, you have to make me understand. if you love me, i need to know why you don’t want to be with here, with me? we could be so happy,”

“because it’s not that easy, caleb,” you pull your hands away and caleb almost vocalizes something akin to a whine at the loss of contact, “i can’t just erase my memory of everything you’ve said to me these past couple of years. i love you, i’ve loved you for so long, which is why things can’t just go back to normal as you want them to.”

“if you love me, does seeing me hurt like this not hurt you?”

“don’t you dare try guilting me!”

“i’m not trying to! i’m trying to understand, help me understand,” his mouth gapes open and closed as he thinks about how to word his thoughts, “can’t you at least come home? i can’t stand being physically far from you. we don’t even need to talk or see each other whenever you’re too busy, i just can’t sleep well at night knowing you’re not in the next room over,”

“caleb,” you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation, “we can’t just pretend that everything is fine and ignore it, which means i can’t just move back into my room. i think i still need space from you. we’re not even here to talk about us, we’re here to talk about you and how your behavior needs to stop,”

“i won’t stop until you come back,” his words are finite, the resolve in his eyes almost scaring you, “i’ll do anything to have you come back to me,”

”scaring and borderline threatening lily will do anything but make me come back,” you remind him, words icy as you hope they sting him where it’ll hurt.

“then how can i make you come back, let you know that i’ll change and be better? how can i prove that to you if you’re not even in the same building as me?” caleb’s love is best translated through physical touch and acts of service, both of which require you to be here in order for him to execute them.

you’re silent and it seems as if you’re genuinely thinking about an answer, which alone makes caleb excited to think he has a chance at winning you back into his arms.

“i’m not moving back in, not for a while at least. i’ve realized that i was limiting myself,” you say with finality, “caleb, i don’t want to be near you right now. i need you to understand that because i feel like, i tell you how i feel and everything is going in one ear and out the other,”

“please, don’t say that. i listen, i do! and i want to try making things better, but you won’t let me. why won’t you let me? why won’t you just come ho-”

“because things are going quite well for me right now! and i know that it’s selfish, but my entire life i’ve been nothing but selfless for you,” your words are unwavering and caleb physically deflates at your words and tone. you sound so excited, so excited talking about how well you’re doing without him. “zayne takes really good care of me, caleb. he’s really attentive and treats me well,”

caleb’s jaw sets into a tight clench, which you are unable to ignore, “and you can’t even be mad at him and how i prefer him right now, because he’s just treating me like a normal person would, how a kind person would. you didn’t treat me with a fraction of care in years that he has in weeks. so i hate to tell you this, but i prefer the company i have with zayne over staying there with you,”

you’re not even calling it your home anymore, caleb thinks with teary eyes. he listened to your ramble, trying his best to ignore the boiling anger and annoyance at how you were so passionately talking about zayne. instead, he tried actually listening to what you were saying and the criticism that followed. he was the one at fault, he understands that. but he just hates that you were relying on someone else as a crutch rather than wanting to come back home and work things out with him, living under the same roof again.

“but i am willing to see you more often so we can work this out. it’s hurting lily a lot, i think, to see us fighting and not talking to each other. and i feel like i need to remind you how your behavior in particular has been awful.” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest with a frown on your face, “i’m busy with work most days, though, but whenever we have free time-”

”i’ll always be free for you, just call or text me,” caleb nods his head rapidly, not going to reject your proposition even though it is far from the solution he was hoping for. his hands are sweaty in his lap as this entire conversation sent him spiraling where he sat.

“will you stop being such a prick to lily now?” you ask, eyes glaring into his soul. but at least you were looking at him. he smiles softly, nodding his head in obedience. “apologize to her as well, a real sincere one.”

“i will, it wasn’t- i wasn’t thinking straight,” he admits, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about his past behavior. he was just so caught up in trying to reach you again, ensure you came home, he was willing to do that by any means. even if it meant hurting the one other person he held dear to his heart…it seems he has a habit of hurting the people he loves.

“okay, so,” your voice trails off for a couple moments before you finally stand up, “well, i’m gonna head out now,”

caleb is following after you, shooting up from his seat and reaching his hand out, “c’mon, no, stay for dinner at least, please. i haven’t cooked for you and lily in so long, please, just let me make us dinner,”

your eyebrows furrow and you back away, “i really would, caleb, but i promised i’d eat dinner with zayne tonight.”

he huffs in annoyance, “then just invite him, i don’t even care. just, can we please have dinner together tonight? he can be here if you really want him to be,” he can’t believe he’s even saying this right now, but he’s desperate. he really wants you to stay.

you think about it for a couple of moments before nodding in agreement, “i’ll go call him,”

“okay, perfect, let me see what we have in the fridge.” he leaves the living room and heads to the kitchen, the most genuine smile on his face in a long time. he already knows what you guys have to cook as well. it’s the ingredients to all your favorites. he’s been making your comfort meals to comfort himself the past couple of days, attempting to fill the void you left him with.

it was always a depressing sight as well. him sitting alone at the dinner table since lily would take her portion up to her room. he’d be alone, eating the food so slowly that it would usually end up going cold before he even realized it.

but now, his nights of going through that were closer to being done with. even if only just a little bit, you were giving him leeway in making this better, in fixing this situation. and then you two could maybe even be closer than you were before. his face blooms with heat as he thinks about what you two could become, beyond that bond you two shared before. something deeper.

he watches you talk calmly with zayne on the phone, a small smile on your face and his eyebrows furrow at the sight. he has to be patient, he repeats in his head like a mantra. if he is patient and works hard in regaining your trust, your love, your care! then one day, he’ll be the one on that receiving end of your sweet phone calls.

he just has to fight back his selfish desires, suffocate them down into the back of his mind. he’s determined to show you he can change, he can be that man that you need him to be, turn back into the man you love.

well, hopes that you were stupid enough to feed into because this was itoshi rin you’re talking about; possibly the most standoffish, calculated, and devastatingly gorgeous man you’ve ever met in your life. yet, despite his detestable personality, you still found yourself falling hook, line, and sinker for the man, despite his insults, cold comments, and dismissive attitude.

maybe it’s masochism. 

now that you look back on it, rin’s rejection seemed almost inevitable. even if you lead yourself to hope with all the times you caught him staring at you, the prompt replies to your messages, and willingness to somewhat tolerate you during group projects, it was rather obvious that this would be the outcome to your heartfelt confession. 

‘i don’t see you like that’.

it’s cringeworthy simply thinking about it. now you’re going to have another memory that’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.

recalling the expression he made after your confession; eyebrows scrunched and lips tugged into a slight frown, was traumatising enough for you to wish for the ground to swallow you whole. his face will plague you for an uncertain amount of time because today truly, was so very humbling.

the sight of your bus approaching your stop rouses you from the crevices of your thoughts and after you jump on and settle yourself into a seat in the relatively empty carriage, you bring your phone out to text reo again. he’d sent four messages since.

&lt;reo3: this doesn’t make any sense we all thought rin was into you &lt;reo3: like DOWN BAD into you<reo3: everyone on the team has literally made bets on you two <reo3: i’m sorry :c r u okay?  you: yeah. just gotta take the L and move on you: hey at least i’m free for valentines <reo3: LET’S GOOO we’re definitely doing something <reo3: i’ll be a better valentines than r*n you: you’re sexier too babes xoxo <reo3: duh!

maybe you’ll let reo see another day. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

your university schedule was never the same after the ‘itoshi rin’ fiasco.

it was never an amazing schedule to begin with since a few classes were quite inconvenient, and there’s only so much to enjoy out of your seminars. the fun part about them was being able to sit beside rin and talk to him whenever you could without getting waved off, but since his heartless decline of your feelings, acting ‘buddy-buddy’ wouldn’t be acceptable. so you resorted to sit by yourself in a section of the space you’ve never really occupied before, busying yourself on your phone as students walked in to class.

despite the temptation to look at the door to see when rin would come in, you do not budge one bit, eyes glued to your phone screen (which had nothing entertaining on it). this meant that you couldn’t see the confusion on his face when he didn’t see you in your normal spot and how it merged further into a look of offence when he instead spots you across the room.

reluctantly taking his usual seat, rin’s gaze lingers on you, hoping to meet your eyes at least once. but upon your insistence to pretend your phone was more important than him, he sits down, practically flopping onto his chair with his backpack cushioning his fall. 

sitting here feels a little empty. rin can’t help but think how it used to be much better when you insisted on being next to him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── 

&lt;;reo3: you can come now rin isn’t here yet

you: kk b there soon

the trek across campus towards the university’s soccer field, although long, is harmless enough, especially since you were doing a favour for your best friend by bringing the soccer guards and water bottle that he left at your dorm. the harmful part was the looming threat of itoshi rin’s presence and your fear that you would encounter him on your way. 

all you needed to do was drop in quickly and leave. 

when you get to the field, nagi’s the one who sees you first from where he was lounging on the bleaches, changed in his soccer gear. 

“oh, y/n,” he mumbles, sitting up. “hello.”

“hey nagi. are you trying to nap before practice or something?” you ask.

“yeah.” 

“won’t that drain you though before practice starts? you’ve got like… five minutes.”

“still classified as a power nap. wanna collect a power up before startin’.”

amusing as ever, he is. “sure. hey, you know where reo is?”

“he’s changed, probably warming up with isagi and bachira and whoever else.”

“shouldn’t you be doing that too?”

“not until reo forces me to.”

as if on cue, a friendly and very familiar voice calls out nagi’s name and you’re delighted to see the purple-haired in question. you can finally give him his stupid stuff back; the ones you’ve been holding in your hands this entire time like an idiot.

“come on nagi!” reo exclaims, jogging over. a smile appears on his face when he sees you. “yo! y/n! thanks for bringing my things.”

“‘s not a problem. next time i’ll burn them so don’t leave them again,” you counter as the purple-haired takes his things from you with an eye roll. “i filled up your water bottle for you.” 

he places his things down before sitting beside nagi to put his guards on. “so considerate even whilst terrorising me.”

“of course.”

“seriously though, thank you for bringing my things.”

“not a problem. i’m gonna head back to my dorm to study so i’ll see you later. bye reo, bye nagi,” you wave at the two, fixing your backpack strap before turning around to leave the field, only to bump face-first into someone.

the apology that surfaces on your tongue quickly withers away when you lock eyes with a pair of steely, teal ones, partially hidden by strands of dark hair. he looks at you like he has something to say.

but you’re not ready to hear it. 

“uh, hi rin! gotta go!” you squeak before stepping to the side and running away, leaving rin to stare in bewilderment after you.

part of him has the urge to run after you. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

<reo3: isagi’s invited a bunch of us to the on campus screening of spirited away

<reo3: wanna come?

you: ykw why not

you: not like i have essays to write

<reo3: FUCK THEM ESSAYS! 

you: YOU’RE RIGHT SPIRITED AWAY IS BETTER !

if you knew that this would lead you to be seated (uncomfortably) between reo and isagi, who acted as the only barrier between you and an-unnamed-man (rin), then perhaps you would’ve dedicated yourself to your essay rather than a fun opportunity to hang out with your friends. 

1500 words sounds better than having to pretend like there wasn’t an icy cold stare penetrating the back of your head every time you turned to talk to reo, or isagi trying to keep his interactions up with rin so the latter wouldn’t try to talk to you.

you owe isagi a vending machine drink after this because a ‘thank you’ will never suffice. 

it’s easy enough to forget about rin when the movie plays and isagi begins whispering little pieces of commentary to you from time to time, eliciting giggles from you that you try to suppress to not annoy those around you. however, each sound that slipped past your lips was enough to make the dark-haired boy scrunch his face in disgust, an ugly, green monster climbing up his throat when he catches a glimpse of how happy you seemed with someone that wasn’t him. it kills him to see how easily it is for you to just ignore him like your friendship never existed.

since the campus movie was scheduled during a cool but bearable, autumn dusk, you severely underestimated how cold the night would get. heating wasn’t the best in the gymnasium so the committee had instructed everyone to bring their own blankets and warm covers, yet in your haste, you couldn’t bring adequate layers.

so after a while of trying to warm yourself up and convincing yourself that you were warm enough with a measly sweatshirt, rin notices from the corner of his eye how you kept rubbing your arms. 

he doesn’t hesitate to take off the fleece jacket that he was wearing over his university jumper. sure, it will be significantly colder without his outer layer, but rin’s willing to suffer as long as you were okay (when has he ever been this considerate?), except he stops when he sees nagi handing you his very oversized jumper. you accept it with a gracious smile and the white-haired boy merely shrugs before going back to watching the film. rin, on the other hand, feels a cauldron of rage brewing within him.

the sight makes his chest twist, wringing him dry as he stares dejectedly at how snug you seem in someone else’s clothes. the green monster inside of rin bubbles in contempt, a being that makes him want to rip the hoodie off you and replace it with his own for you to wrap yourself up in. he wants you to be content with him- happy because of him, not because of another.

you confessed to him only two weeks ago- barely even two weeks ago, so how could you so easily forget about him and move on? pretend like his rejection didn’t shatter you and him when he saw a devastation like no other on your pretty face?

rin doesn’t know how much longer he can live like this. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the following tuesday, you’re already seated in your new spot for your seminar, busy setting up your laptop in preparation when rin walks in. you see him from the corner of your eye, backpack slung around his shoulder, hands tucked unassumingly in his pockets as all 185cm of him saunters towards the seats. however, when you notice that he bypasses his normal spot and walks even further out of your peripheral vision, alarms blare deafeningly in your head.

you freeze when you hear someone take the seat behind you.

there’s a hard gaze on the back of your head, one that roots you to your spot and wills you not to turn around.

sneaking out your phone from your bag, you hide it so that rin can’t see it from his angle. 

you: RIN IS SITTING BEHIND ME OH NO

you: terrible start to valentines day smh

<reo3: WHAT!??!!???!???! fr.

you: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY I’M GOING TO DISINTEGRATE RIGHT NOW

<reo3: maybe *don’t* do that???? 

<reo3: WHY’S HE SITTING BEHIND YOU?????

you: FUCK IF I KNOW IT FEELS LIKE HE’S THROWING DAGGERS AT MY HEAD

<reo3: WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?

you: CRY???????????? IDFK???????????

you: oh fuck class is about to start

you: i’ll let you know if anything happens

<reo3: STAY SAFE 

you tuck your phone away with fear and dread looming over you, personified through the form of itoshi rin, who sits so indifferently behind you, head propped on his hand. you hear his pen click behind you and you don’t even need to see him to know that he’s taking out that stupid notebook of his since he preferred to take notes by hand. you want to turn around and rip said book into shreds.

as the professor starts the class, you try your best to shake rin out of your thoughts, wanting to leave him behind in the depths of your mind so you can concentrate on this damn elective. none of the notes you were typing onto your document made sense and it felt like everything the professor was saying went in one ear then out the other. curse rin for having this effect on you. 

at least you get to gossip with reo after this.

though your seminar was only 60 minutes, it might as well have been 60 years because of how significantly older you feel at the end of it. the weight of rin’s stare was heavy on your shoulders when you hurriedly grab your things and make a dash for the exit.

well. you try to make a dash for the exit because somehow, rin gained the ability to teleport and beat you there, grabbing your wrist unceremoniously before pulling you into the hallways. you fumble with your phone, hurriedly texting reo.

you: UHH MAYDAY I MGHT NEEE TO SKIP OUR PLANS

<reo3: WHAT’S HAPPENING?????

you: RIN IS DRSGGING ME SIMEWHERE IDK WHERE

you: MY LOCARION IS ON LIFE360

you: I LUV YOU STUPID WHORE

<reo3: WHDJFWIJAIDJFAWHAT THE FUCK????

“hey!” you exclaim, helplessly being pulled by rin’s long strides, shutting your phone off as you try to match his eagerness. he could at least be a little more considerate and lighten up that grip of his on your wrist. “rin- what? where are we going?”

“you’ll see,” he responds gruffly.

your mind blanks despite the hurricane of questions that circulate your mind. how did you get here? is the delirium finally hitting you after countless sleepless nights? you stayed up until 2am last night to make valentine’s chocolates for your friends so maybe it’s the sugar and the sleep deprivation. 

as rin pulls you through the hallways, you think about how weird it is to allow him this close to you again- well, you didn’t exactly allow him, he kind of just… invaded your personal space. but after a whole week of not talking to him, responding dryly to his texts, avoiding your regular hangout spots, and overall pretending like he doesn’t exist, being exposed to his intimidating presence once more is… exhilarating? unreal? 

“wait, can we stop for a second?” you demand, breaking out of your funk when you step outside as if the harshness of the sun’s rays woke you up. “i’m so confused right now. where are we going?”

“we’re going to have lunch together at that café you’ve been wanting to try out,” he tells you with a serious expression, not breaking his usual aloof and stern personality. 

rin doesn’t give mixed messages: no, he gives messages that have completely been lost, fallen astray somewhere along the path of communication.

shifting your weight between your feet awkwardly, you tell him: “well, i kinda had valentine’s plans.”

his mask of coolness and uninterest cracks, exposing all the emotions he’s been withholding from surfacing for the past weeks; jealousy, envy, greed, they all manifest through the helpless scrunch of his face. “with who?” asks rin, tone a lot harsher than he had intended, matching the crease of his eyebrows and the frown he was wearing.

it’s the green monster in him talking.

if you were going out with someone else, someone new, rin’s not too sure what he’d do. determination and pettiness can only take a man so far before his resolve cracks and you have the power to crush his heart with a single stomp, extinguishing his flames in one, swift sweep. 

“with reo,” you confess. the dark-haired relaxes again, his face returning to a neutral expression.

“okay. ditch him then.” his audacity is baffling.

“i can’t just do that!” 

“why not?”

“cause that’s a shitty thing to do!” you say, before murmuring under your breath, “not that you’d know the first thing about being polite.” 

“i don’t care, it’s reo, you two hang out everyday. tell him to give me a turn.”

“you’re a horrible person, rin,” you murmur, ignoring the butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

he doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely eyeing you expectantly, waiting for your next step. huffing, you reluctantly take out your phone as a sign of surrender under his suffocating pressure, muttering complaints under your breath as you find reo’s contact - literally your most recent one, to send him a quick message. almost instantly, your best friend responds with a thumbs up paired with a smirk and you almost want to block him then and there. 

“done.”

“perfect,” rin goes to grab your hand again but you retract from him just in time. when you look up to meet his gaze once more, you see his unimpressed expression whilst he keeps his palm extended towards you expectantly.

“i don’t need your help walking places,” you grumble, not liking how fast your heart was racing.

he gestures to his open palm once more. “i know.”

after a moment of silence, you give in, hesitantly placing your hand in his. with a small grin, rin intertwines your fingers before pulling you to his side. without another word, he begins walking, leaving you to merely follow the brutally fast pace he’s set.

you must’ve looked ridiculous to other people. being dragged around by an 185 cm man, how humbling.

the place rin led you to was not too far from campus; a totally manageable distance for the two of you to remain in silence during the walk. you try to bypass the awkwardness of it all by focusing on other things, like how warm rin’s hand is and how you hope he doesn’t mind your sweaty hands. he seems to be content from what you’ve observed, happily walking beside you whilst sparing a few occasional glances over; ones that you pretend you don’t see whilst admiring the cityscape around you.

there are various valentine’s decorations hung up around the insides of the cafe that made you cringe slightly. although they were very cute, you feel humiliation climbing up your throat, serving as a reminder that you were currently spending a day of love and romance, or whatever, standing beside the very man who rejected you. 

this is the cruellest version of a sick joke.

“welcome!” a cheery voice greets, breaking you out of your thoughts. “table for two?” rin nods. “perfect! are you here for valentine’s day because couples get access to a special menu on top of our regular one.” 

when you open your mouth to reject her offer, rin beats you to it. “we’ll take the valentine’s menu.”

“okay, right this way,” the waitress guides you to an empty table for two that was right by the corner. the atmosphere of the place was cozy with various candles and statement pieces to really bring it together, but you have no time or brain space to appreciate the aesthetic of the café. 

it’s not until the waitress leaves that you speak up, utterly confused. “why’d you get the valentine’s menu, we-”

realisation hits you like a truck. 

“-are we on a date right now?”

rin’s unmoving, save for the purse of his lips as he stares at you. you feel a little foolish right now.

“yeah, we are,” he answers, curtly and concisely.

alarms are blaring in your head, the earth is tremoring below you, there are distant screams somewhere in the back of your mind and all you can manage out is a simple ‘oh’. 

“get what you want, i’ll-” rin begins before you abruptly cut him off.

“-no, hold on, i’m so confused right now,” you rub your temples, staring at the stupid valentine’s day menu decorated with pink and hearts and chocolates. “why?”

“why what?”

“why are we on a date?”

“because it’s valentine’s day?”

“well- i know that part,” you murmur under your breath. “it’s just, y’know, people celebrate this day when they like each other.” and not when one party is miserable because the other rejected them. 

“we do like each other though.”

there are no words to describe the shock you feel. really. not even an anvil dropping on your head could wake you up from whatever dream you are conjuring right now. 

“no, we don’t! i like you, you don’t like me.”

he looks away, the tips of his ears turning red. “that’s not true,” he murmurs, no louder than a whisper, yet your jaw drops all the same at his confession. “i do like you.”

“a week ago you didn’t!” 

“a week ago i wasn’t ready to get into a… relationship… or whatever.”

“oh,” you fix the strap of your bag, feeling slightly awkward. “and you’re ready now all of a sudden?”

“yeah.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“the fuck? why?” 

“you don’t really seem like the type of guy to turn around on yourself like this. what changed?”

rin won’t ever tell you about how much he missed you during these two weeks and how it was his jealousy and greediness that spurred him to act on his feelings. instead, he simply slides the menu to you, pointing to a milkshake-‘lover’s brew’, and since the menu was decorated with pictures on the side, you could see what the concoction consisted of. whipped cream, heart sprinkles, topped with a caramel heart and fairy floss. 

“the milkshake?” you ask, trailing off towards the end. “you hate sweet things and this especially looks like it could give you diabetes.”

the dark-haired shrugs. “so? i thought you’d like it.” 

“sure, but it is kinda pricey for a milkshake.”

he shrugs again, putting his elbows on the table which causes his sleeves of his turtleneck to roll down a little, exposing the shiny silver of his, no doubt expensive, watch. “i’ll pay for us, it’s fine.”

“hold on-”

“i’m paying. end of argument.” 

it’s an offer you can’t really reject. being a university student and all, funds are limited, so wherever you can, you want to avoid withdrawing money out of your account. that said, it doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about draining rin’s, but with how long you’ve been friends, you know that once he’s set his mind to something, it’s hard to change it.

“if you insist,” you grumble, straightening up your spine as you awkwardly fiddle with your shirt. you feel so scrutinised under his gaze, even as you reach for the jug of water and pour two cups of water. “what else should we get?”

the waitress then comes around to take your orders and when she’s gone, conversation flows easily, reverting back to how things were between the two of you (to rin’s relief). he listens as you talk animatedly about the unfortunate series of events you had with your professor the other day, how cute your encounter with the campus dogs were, and the really unfortunate run-in you had with a guy from your shared tutorial classes.

(the dark-haired boy makes a face when you mention another man’s name before his usual face of indifference melts back in.)

“here’s your milkshake,” the waitress says, placing the drink in the middle of the table before walking away, “you guys are really cute by the way.”

“thanks,” rin says calmly, a stark contrast to your flustered reaction.

two straws stick out from the milkshake and when you put one in your mouth, you almost choke when rin takes the other one, causing your noses to bump in the middle. the look he gives you is nothing short of mischievous before pulling away, a knowing smirk playing along his lips. 

“ew. that is really sweet,” he mutters before leaning back, crossing his arms. 

“yeah,” you cough. “it is really sweet.”

recovering from your embarrassment, the rest of lunch goes by quite seamlessly. he goes to pay for everything with a confident tap of his card, causing you to stand awkwardly behind him, keeping all complaints to yourself as it goes through. thanking the waitress, you leave the café hand-in-hand once more. 

“thanks again for paying,” you repeat and rin gives a hum of acknowledgement whilst you two walk aimlessly on the path. “what do you want to do now?”

“i don’t know. do you have anything you want to do?”

“i might have an idea.”

leading him in the direction of a nearby store that just opened recently, you come to a stop in front of a shop that had neon-lights illuminating its inside and claw machines filled with adorable plushies lining along the walls. 

glancing at him, there’s a glimmer of amusement in rin’s eyes as his lips turn upwards into a small smirk. “really?” he asks, looking over at you.

“really. this’ll be fun!” you promise before walking in, the dark-haired following suit as you stop in front of a token-purchasing machine. 

from the corner of your eye, you can see him taking out his wallet already and you immediately put your hand on your wrist, ceasing his movement.

with just one glance, a whole conversation passes between you two. “if you pay for me i will sock you.”

“i’d like to see you try,” he deadpans, quirking a brow before pressing the ‘20 tokens = $19’ button on the machine, “but i’m paying.”

then the sound of his card meeting the reader and the transaction being approved rings through the air, followed by the deafening noise of coins clashing against metal. the look he gives you is nothing short of proud. 

“come on babe, bet you won’t be able to get any prizes,” challenges rin as he brushes past you, the pet name causing your stomach to churn as insults rest on your tongue, offended by his declaration.

he’s gracious enough to give you half of the coins, allowing you to play four games each. you only manage to win on one of them and even then, you were astonished at your own achievements, excitedly grabbing the plushie and hugging the stuffed toy to your chest protectively. rin, on the other hand, comes back to you with two in both hands and the gawk you let out was completely against your will.

“how did you do that?” you ask, a little stupified at the sight (it was kinda hot though). although at this point, you shouldn’t really question how itoshi rin works since he takes the meaning of ‘march to the beat of your own drum’ to a whole other level. 

instead of answering, he hands them over to you and you have no choice but to take them, your arms now overloaded with three stuffed toys. 

before you can even open your mouth to ask if he broke into the machines, your phone buzzes with a notification and the second you open it, you’re met with a familiar ‘⚠️bereal’ banner, one that makes you excited over the impeccable timing. rin raises an eyebrow at your sudden surprise.

“bereal! quick, pose!” you demand and rin obeys, raising a peace sign with a slight smile before the camera turns around to you and the many stuffed toys you’re cuddling. 

how adorable you are might just kill him. 

the dark-haired shakes the thought away before taking out his phone, instructing you to smile. you pose for the photo, hugging all the plushies closely to your chest whilst rin gives his usual deadpan stare into the camera. he then gives you his phone to check if it was okay to post and when you approve, you press the ‘post >’ button for him.

shutting off his phone for him, it’s at the same time that the bereal notification pops up again, this time detailing how one of his friends had posted but that’s not what caught your attention.

it’s a certain photo that made your heart thump loudly in its ribcage.

“am i your lockscreen?” you ask, pride and flattery swelling in your stomach, manifesting through the warmth of your cheeks. 

the slight widening of his eyes give you all the answers you need. “you weren’t supposed to see that.” 

nothing could stop the slow grin from erupting on your expression. it’s ridiculous to say so, but it almost feels like a weight is being lifted from your chest, the pains of the last few weeks erasing themselves completely with this one detail. 

that’s how you know rin was meant for you.

“out of all pictures of me, you chose this one?” you question, gesturing to the selfie that you once sent him during your study sessions. your hair was messy, there was a semi-crazed look in your eyes, but at least the moisturising lip gloss you had reapplied then made you look somewhat put together. 

looking at his phone once more, you feel a little warm.

“i like it,” he mutters shyly, unable to look you in the eye. despite his embarrassment, his statement fills you with endless relief, providing gratification for your relationship with rin that you didn’t know you needed. 

though you’ve been friends with him for quite some time now, you feel as though you don’t really recognise the man in front of you. past perceptions you’ve had of him has now been shattered by his flustered gaze, the relentless blush coating his cheeks, and the uncharacteristic way he slumps, as if defending himself from any judgement you might throw at him. 

luckily for him, that’s not what you’re interested in doing.

unlocking your phone, you hand it to him. “take a matching selfie so i can make it my lock screen too.”

at least you have all the time in the world to get to know him all over again.

(rin will never tell you that he only has been active on bereal so he could see what you were up to. except it backfired every time because instead of satisfying how desperately he was longing for you during your two weeks of no contact, it only made him want you more. he wanted to be there with you through your intense study sessions, he wanted to be going on walks with you, he wanted to be there with you when you were watching one more episode of your favourite tv show before going to bed, he just wanted to be there with you.

now he has all the time to make sure he is.)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[@y/n’s BeReal]

@ karasu69: @fruityninjaotoya YOU OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS 　　→ @fruitninjaotoya: Shut your micropenis up

@ yocchan: Y/N WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS 　　→ @ nagixxxxxxxxxxxxx: ratio 　　→ @ yocchan: DON’T RATIO ME RN

@monsterbachira: omg are y’all 😍❤️😍 rn 　　→ @y/n: wut. 　　→ @itshrin: Yes 　　→ @monsterbachira: y/n rin is actually a good kisser 　　→ @y/n: thanks for letting me know meguru! 　　→ @itshrin: i’m going to end you. 

@bbgreo: i’m glad y’all had fun but no itoshi rin on our platonic date pls! 　　→ @y/n: would never dream of it luv <3 　　→ @itshrin: Sleep with one eye open, Reo 　　→ @y/n: that’s my best friend :( 　　→ @itshrin: You don’t need him 　　→ @y/n: reo and i are one you can’t separate us 　　→ @itshrin: Ok fine 😒 　　→ @bbgreo: yay! 　　→ @y/n: yay!

Victor was a fantastic champion, and perhaps even better than Leon was, Hop thought. Even today, Hop couldn't believe how powerful his childhood friend was, and it seemed as though his strength grew with every passing day.

Victor wasn't just a strong battler, he was inspirational and a good man. He didn't care much about having many sponsors, nor did he go out of his way to partake in interviews. He often donated his prize money to people in need, and he was exceptionally humble.

Even Bede had matured into a decent man. Now the full-time gym leader of Ballonlea, he was a force to be reckoned with for challengers. Although he still kept a facade of toughness, Hop couldn't deny that Bede was much more polite than before. Even if Bede and Hop had never gotten along, Hop thought that it was great that Bede had found his place in the world.

Hop took a glance at his sleeping Dubwool, reaching down to stroke his coat softly. It dawned on him that it's been quite a while since he had battled someone because he was so focused on his studies to become a respectable professor. He hoped that his pokémon weren't too bored with his decision to lessen pokémon battling to focus on research.

However, they seemed to have accepted his choice of career, as did his friends and relatives. Even though being a professor was far from being his original dream, he thought it was fun.

All his life, Hop had wanted to be the champion. He wanted to prove to the region that he was just as good, possibly better than his brother. But that didn't happen, Victor got there first.

He continued to watch Victor's battle on his phone, completely immersed in the confident and enthusiastic energy that Victor displayed. Victor still had five pokémon standing, while Bede was on his last two.

"It's no wonder you became champion, mate," Hop chuckled to himself.

No wonder indeed. Three years later, and Hop had accepted that he never stood a chance of being champion. Not when he was up against Victor. Hop had never been able to defeat Victor, and he always felt like he was lightyears behind his dear friend.

Even today, he felt underwhelming compared to everyone around him. It felt as though his friends, rivals and family were all achieving great success and making names for themselves while he was constantly scribbling notes and watching wild pokémon.

Hop sighed, shaking his head in annoyance at his own thoughts. He knew better than to think so negatively, but the quiet atmosphere of the lab seemed to be the perfect setting to overthink life itself.

He shook his head once more, smiling to himself as a way to convince himself that everything was fine. He was usually so bubbly and energetic, for crying out loud! He loved doing research. It was his new passion, and that's what was important.

Hop grinned as Victor's battle came to a close, ending in a victory for his best friend. Though the outcome didn't surprise him, Hop mentally congratulated him.

As he turned off his phone to get back to work, the door to the lab opened. He didn't fully pay any mind to it as it was most likely Sonia since she was to return around these hours.

"H-Hello? Is there anyone?" A meek voice timidly sounded.

Hop's gaze lifted. That was most definitely not Sonia. He got up from his chair and smoothed his lab coat before heading to the entrance of the lab.

There stood a young, short-haired girl who looked to be more or less ten-years-old. She shyly fiddled with her sweater's sleeves as her gaze was fixated to the ground.

Hop blinked but quickly shook off his surprise to smile at the youngling. "Hi, there! What brings you here?"

"W-Well... is Professor Sonia here? I'm supposed to get my first pokémon today," she said.

Now that Hop thought about it, he did remember Sonia saying something about a girl coming to get her starter today. He had completely forgotten about that.

He looked around nervously, Sonia had most likely lost track of time. It happened to her often whenever she was really into her work, and he really couldn't blame her.

He scratched the back of his head. "R-Right! You must be Annabelle, yeah?"

The little girl nodded in response with a soft smile.

"So, er, the thing is that Sonia isn't here right now..." he said.

Annabelle's smile faltered a bit. "Oh... that's okay. I'll come back. I'm sorry for bothering you," she said.

Hop cringed at the dejected look she had, and before she could turn around and leave, he stopped her.

"Hey, wait! I can give you your pokémon, you don't have to come back later," he said before he could stop himself.

Surely, Sonia wouldn't mind if he took matters into his own hands, right? After all, he felt too bad at the thought of making her wait, he knew all too well just how exciting it was to get your very first pokémon.

"Really? Oh, thank you so much!" She said enthusiastically.

Hop chuckled and motioned her to follow him. "Well, come along. Let's have you meet the little fellows!"

She did as told and followed Hop. He then headed to a shelf where three pokéballs sat. He grabbed them and turned back to Annabelle.

As he called out the pokémon, three familiar faces excitedly made their entrance. Hop couldn't help but smile as the nostalgia hit him as he watched the Grookey, Scorbunny and Sobble all pose adorably.

Annabelle seemed absolutely enamoured with them as well as she cooed at their cuteness.

Hop nodded to himself, it was time for him to put his knowledge to good use. This would be a good way for him to evaluate his performance as a future professor.

"Sobble is just about the most gentle Water-type pokémon out there! It can be pretty sensitive and timid, but don't let that fool you, Sobble is a master of camouflage and silent attacks. It never fails to aim for an opponent's weak spot! She's a little girl!" Hop explained.

Sobble wiggled her fin as she covered her cheeks to hide a little blush. It sounded like she was giggling.

"Scorbunny is a very energetic Fire-type! It's always raring to go and up for a good fight. It's a very confident pokémon who will always do its best to impress and protect its trainer! This little guy is a boy," Hop continued.

Sorbunny bounced in the air, pumping his little paw with a wink. He was trying to showboat a little.

"And lastly, we have the Grass-type, Grookey! It's a very peaceful pokémon with a good sense of leadership. It's a very speedy pokémon that can get quite immersed in battles. This one is a boy!" He concluded.

Grookey wagged his tail, chirping happily with a bright smile as he bounced up and down. He grabbed his stick to tap a little beat onto the tile floor.

"So, which one will you take? Choose wisely. This will be your most trusted partner who will stick by your side throughout your journey no matter what," Hop said.

Annabelle's gaze flicked between the three pokémon, but not for long as she had her eyes set on the little Grookey.

"They're all so cute, but I decided that I wanted a Grookey ages ago!" She said as she crouched to the pokémon's height.

"Would you like to travel with me?" She asked, holding out her hand.

Grookey nodded excitedly as he put his little paws onto her hand. Annabelle giggled at the pokémon's cuteness.

Hop grinned. "Grookey, huh? A great choice. It was the pokémon that I chose to travel with along with Wooloo when I first started."

Annabelle giggled softly, picking up her new Grookey in her arms. "I know. That's why I wanted one, Mr. Hop!"

Hop blinked in surprise as he registered what the young girl had said. "I- Really?"

"Yeah! I always watched your battles with my mummy when you did your gym challenge. You were my favourite trainer, and I want to be just as good as you!" She said.

Hop was at a loss for words. Not only did this child know who he was, but she was admitting that she favoured him as a trainer. He didn't think this could even be a reality. He wasn't that special, he knew that for a fact. Sure, he made it through his gym challenge, but he had always been in both Victor and Leon's shadows, and, in his opinion, rightfully so.

His friends, brother and rivals all outshined him by so much. He didn't have their strength, he knew that as he could never beat a single one of them. Not even once. Hop had since accepted that he was destined to be the weakest person of his entourage.

He definitely felt happiness at knowing that someone thought so highly of him, yet he couldn't help but listen to the little voice at the back of his mind, saying that this sweet girl was making the worst mistake of her life by idolizing such a loser.

Hop chuckled nervously as he scratched at his hair. "A-Ah! Well, I appreciate that, but I'm not that gr-"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence as Sonia made her frantic appearance into the lab, huffing slightly to catch her breath.

"I am so sorry! I got sidetracked and didn't see time fly!" She said.

Annabelle shook her head. "It's okay, Professor Sonia. Professor Hop gave me a pokémon!" She said as she snuggled her Grookey.

"But I'm not a prof-"

"I can see that!" Sonia chuckled. "Annabelle, dear, what do you say we equip that Rotom Phone of yours with a Pokédex?" She continued.

"Please!" She said, handing Sonia her phone.

"Alright. Hop, why don't you go get some Pokéballs for her while I set this up?" Sonia asked.

Hop nodded. "Of course."

As Hop distanced himself to rummage through some drawers for Pokéballs, Sonia explained to Annabelle the Pokédex's functions. It was just like she had done when he and Victor had first started their journeys.

He found five Pokéballs to get the young girl started on her team, so he headed back to the duo and handed Annabelle the catching devices.

"Here you go. They'll help you get started on your team," he said.

When she took the balls from Hop, he reached into his pocket to grab another one. "Here. This is your Grookey's Pokéball."

"Thank you very much for everything!" She said as she took her starter's Pokéball.

Hop shook his head. "It's our pleasure! Now, get out there and meet tons of pokémon! But remember to stay safe and have fun," he said.

"I will! Thanks again, you two!" She said before exiting the lab with her Grookey still in her arms.

When Annabelle left, Hop sighed in relief, happy that everything went smoothly. He then turned to Sonia, laughing nervously.

"S-Sorry, Professor. I hope you don't mind that I took care of things. I didn't want to make her wait too long, and I didn't know when you would be back," he said.

Sonia shook her head. "No, no, don't worry a thing. I'm glad you did, and by the looks of it, you handled that really well. Proper job!" She said with a grin.

"Thank you... I did my best," Hop said, relieved that he didn't mess anything up.

Sonia glanced at the desk where a large pile of notes sat before turning back to Hop. "Would you like to switch places with me? Arceus knows how much you hate sitting still."

"Yeah, I'll take you up on that. Fieldwork is my favourite kind of work!" He laughed.

Fresh air was definitely needed at the moment. Hopefully, it would help him keep his mind at ease from the negativity that has been plaguing him recently.

~~~~~~

"Thank you for having me over, Magnolia. I'm sorry for dropping by unannounced," you said.

Having decided to take a well-deserved break from work, you dropped by Magnolia's home for a visit. You found her company to be warm and homely, which was something you loved, especially when you needed to sit back and relax.

You sat in Magnolia's plant room on one of the comfortable loveseats as the older woman prepared cups of the finest tea she had in her kitchen. The scenery of her home, particularly the room you were in, had you feeling at peace.

Perched atop your head was your beloved Frosmoth. She could get quite heavy, so she made sure to not put her full weight on you. She absolutely refused to be left home alone today, no matter how much you protested. Thankfully, Magnolia didn't mind the presence of the larger moth pokémon, as she was very well-behaved.

Magnolia stepped into the room, a tray in hand and a warm smile upon her features. "Nonsense, dear. You're welcomed in my home at any moment. I don't get to see you nearly as often as I'd like," she said as she set the tea down.

You thanked her as she handed you a cup. "I know, and I'm sorry about that. I feel bad, trust me."

"Don't. It's to be expected with the kind of work you do, and I fully understand. Just know that you're always welcomed to knock on my door should you need anything," she said as she sat across from you.

You smiled. "Thank you. It's nice to have someone I can trust living nearby."

"Of course! You're practically family at this point!" She said, laughing softly.

You truly appreciated it. Your work required your constant presence at home, so you didn't have much time to go out of your way to make close friends, much less someone you could trust. Magnolia was such an understanding and patient woman, and she knew that you didn't mean anything ill by not dropping by all the time. You had your duties, and she accepted that. She was well aware that you cared even if you weren't always around, and for that, you were thankful.

"Speaking of which..." Magnolia started as she set her cup down, "... my granddaughter should be coming over shortly with her assistant."

"O-Oh! Should I leave then? I wouldn't want to be a bother," you said.

"Don't even get that idea. Sonia will be thrilled to see you, you know she adores you!" Magnolia said.

You chuckled at the woman's light scolding. "You're right. It's been a while since I've seen her, or that she's dropped by my place. She's pretty busy now, huh? Being a full-time professor and all."

"She certainly is, though she loves her work. It seems that journeying through Galar a second time was what she needed to discover her true passion," Magnolia said, fondness for her granddaughter could be heard in her voice.

"Sometimes, I think of having another journey myself, but I think I made the right call with the path I ended up taking," you said.

Magnolia nodded in agreement. "Absolutely! What was your original goal again?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "I wanted to be a gym leader of all things."

"Oh, that's right! You know, you're absolutely phenomenal at taking care of pokémon that I just can't even fathom the idea of you as a gym leader," she playfully teased.

"I know, right? Plans change, but that's okay!" You said.

You shivered when you felt your Frosmoth blow a faint gust of frigid air onto you in an attempt to get your attention.

"Are you hungry, Dumpling?" You asked, chuckling at her behaviour.

She let out a small cry in confirmation. So, you reached into your bag, which rested at your feet, and pulled out a plastic container that held Dumpling's favourite food. You held the container right in front of her, letting her sniff it out. Once she did, she happily chowed down.

As you fed your Frosmoth, you heard the front door open, followed by the familiar voice of Sonia.

"Hellooo! I'm here, and I brought Hop!" She called out.

Magnolia smiled. "We're in here, dear!"

"We?" Sonia said as she stepped into the room in which you were seated. Once she saw you, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Heya, Sonia!" You said with a bright smile.

"(Y/N), no way! How are you, stranger?" She asked, laughing.

You got up from your seat so that you could give your friend a hug. Dumpling flew off of your head to let you do so.

"I'm doing great! It's been a while, huh?" You said, letting go of her.

"No kidding. I mean, you're a hermit!" She teased.

You rolled her eyes. "Pft. It's not just me. Aren't you always buried in piles of research?" You shot back.

"You got me there," she chuckled. She turned to her grandmother. "You didn't tell me that (Y/N) would be here!"

Magnolia chuckled. "Ah... I wanted to keep it a surprise."

Sonia's eyes then landed on Dumpling. "And you've got Dumpling with you! She looks great!"

Sonia gently approached the pokémon and held out her hand in front of her. Dumpling sniffed her hand, and once she recognized Sonia's scent, she squealed happily and nuzzled her hand.

"Hey, you remember me!" Sonia said as she patted the affectionate moth.

"Of course, she does!" You said.

At that moment, someone cleared their throat. When you glanced at the doorway, you saw who you assumed to be Sonia's assistant.

He had an award-winning smile as he scratched the back of his head in a slightly nervous manner. Though he didn't seem much younger than you, he was pretty tall, more or less six feet. His hair was a lovely shade of purple, which fit rather nicely with his bright, yellow eyes. You were sure you recognized him from somewhere.

Letting go of Dumpling, Sonia clapped her hands together as she headed to her assistant's side.

"Right, you've never met. (Y/N), meet Hop. He's my assistant. Hop, this is (Y/N). They’re a good friend of mine!" She said, introducing the two of you.

Hop grinned at you, holding out his hand for you to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

You took his hand. "Right back at you, Hop!"

And then, it clicked.

"Hey, you're the former champion's little brother, right? You were in the challenge, like, three years ago?" You asked.

Hop blinked, a glimmer of surprise flashing in his eyes for a second. "Yeah, actually. You're spot on."

He certainly was not expecting for this stranger to know who he was. Maybe it wouldn't have surprised him if someone recognized him three years ago when he had finished his challenge, but now, he had convinced himself that practically everyone in Galar had forgotten about his existence.

Sonia raised a brow, which made you roll your eyes. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I like to watch the gym battles whenever I have the chance."

Magnolia spoke up. "Hey, now. What are you all standing around for? Why don't you younglings sit down while I go make some more tea? Perhaps some snacks as well?" She said as she stood up.

The three of you nodded in agreement. Hop and Sonia sat next to each other. Before you sat down, you scratched Dumpling's belly and gently guided her to you so she could perch herself atop your head once more.

Hop tilted his head in slight confusion at your interaction with the pokémon, but he didn't question it any further. At least, he tried. He couldn't help but analyze your Frosmoth, blame it on the researcher in him. As he looked at her, he noticed something off about her eyes. A Frosmoth's eyes were usually a deep blue, but yours were somewhat cloudy.

"Is your Frosmoth blind?" He blurted before he could stop himself.

He mentally cringed, hoping that he didn't seem too nosy or impolite by asking such a thing. However, you smiled at him, features clear of any kind of offence.

"She is, actually!" You said, reaching up to pat Dumpling's head.

"(Y/N) takes care of a lot of disabled and injured pokémon. They run their own sanctuary!" Sonia intervened.

At that, Hop's eyes practically lit up with wonder. "Seriously? Wow, that's amazing!"

You chuckled with a light hue of pink coating your cheeks. "Yeah, I do! It's not far from here, actually. Just a few kilometres behind Magnolia's house, there's my house and my sanctuary."

"Wait... really? I didn't even know that there was anything past Magnolia's house," he said, surprised.

"Yeah... it's pretty easy to miss, but that was kind of the point of picking that particular spot. It's just me and the pokémon with little to no disturbances, which is just what these pokémon need," you explained.

Hop nodded at your explanation. He then leaned forward, nearly slamming his hands onto the coffee table excitedly.

"So, what kind of pokémon do you have there?" He asked, eyes shining with interest.

Sonia chuckled, tapping at his shoulder. "Whoa. Simmer down there, Hop."

Hop immediately retracted as he was made aware of his little burst of excitement. He scratched the back of his head, blushing in embarrassment. He felt like a total child.

"S-Sorry about that. I got carried away," he said.

You laughed, waving him off. "No, no, it's totally fine! If anything, I'm glad that you're so interested!"

Taking care of rescued pokémon was your biggest passion, and you had sworn to dedicate yourself to making a difference for pokémon who were in need of a second chance at life. It was your favourite topic to discuss, and meeting people who seemed so excited to hear you speak about your work and experiences was something that made you beyond ecstatic.

You had to be honest with yourself: you were sometimes afraid that people would get bored or annoyed with you since you could never shut up about your sanctuary. You had the habit of always swerving your conversations towards it, and you really couldn't help it.

So, that's why you got along so well with women like Magnolia and Sonia. They were professors, researchers, and they loved to hear about your experiences regarding the pokémon you helped. You could always have great conversations with them.

You knew for a fact that Hop was highly passionate about pokémon. It showed when you watched his battles back then. And to want to become a professor, it took a lot of dedication and love towards these creatures. You were sure that you would get along great with him.

"You see, there are quite a few pokémon that are in my care. They all have their own story, and they are all unique. Every single one of them has a place in my heart, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for them. They're my number one priority in life," you gushed.

Your eyes then widened, and you chuckled nervously as you noticed that you were rambling.

"Ah... sorry. Here I go again, just talking my mouth off," you apologized.

"Wha-? Why are you apologizing?" Hop asked.

Before you could answer, Sonia chimed in. "They're a dummy, that's why. They think that they’ll annoy us if they talk too much about their sanctuary."

"Oh, come on! That's rubbish!" Hop exclaimed. "Can you tell me how you met your Frosmoth... Dumbo, was that it?" He continued.

You chuckled at the way Hop had managed to butcher her name. "It's Dumpling, and I'd be happy to!"

"It wasn't super out of the ordinary, but I met her right outside Circhester when she was just a tiny hatchling Snom, and when I say tiny, I mean it. She was smaller than any other Snom I had seen before, even for a baby. I guessed that she was the runt out of her siblings," you started.

"Oh! That explains why she seems smaller than the typical Frosmoth," he said. "R-Right, carry on!" He quickly added as he noticed that he had accidentally cut you off.

"She was still near her nest when I found her, but her family was nowhere to be seen. The thing that caught my eye, though, was that she was really unstable. She had a hard time walking without bumping into things. I was curious, so I managed to approach her, and she seemed to panic once she sensed that something was approaching, but she was turning in all sorts of directions, and she didn't seem to know where to look," you continued.

"And that's when you understood that she was blind," Hop said, making you nod.

"Yeah. I kept calm and talked to her in a gentle voice. I was really trying to reassure her that everything was alright. When she calmed down, she let me pet her and even pick her up eventually. I tried looking around the route for her family, but I couldn't find them. I guessed that the mother left her behind because she was the weakest, less likely to survive of the hatchings," you said.

You scratched Dumpling's cheek, causing her to nuzzle your hand with a soft, melodic cry sounding from her.

"I just kind of, you know, took her in. I mean... I just couldn't leave her out there. I don't think I would have been able to forgive myself if I left a vulnerable baby out there, you know?" You finished.

Hop grinned. "You should pat yourself on the back, mate! I mean, you gave her a chance, and she looks like she appreciates it a lot."

At Hop's words, Dumpling happily fluttered her wings, little snowflakes emitting from her as she did so.

"O-Oh... it was just the right thing to do!" You said.

"(Y/N), give yourself more credit. A lot of people wouldn't have had the same heart of gold that you had in that situation. It's not everyone who would have wanted to take so much time in helping and caring for an 'imperfect' pokémon," Sonia said, making Hop nod in agreement.

It might have been the first time he's met you, but Hop could immediately say that you were a great person. Lovable, even. His mind raced as he felt that he would love to get to know you some more. You had such a warm and inviting presence that practically pulled him to you.

As you were speaking, he could only find himself being completely pulled into a state of immersion at your words. He certainly didn't miss the way your eyes practically shined with life when you spoke about your meeting with Dumpling. You had so much emotion in your voice, and he found it to be absolutely endearing.

Of course, he knew that his desire to get to know you was most likely one-sided and merely wishful thinking on his part. After all, Hop knew that he wasn't very impressive. He was just an assistant who hasn't done anything remarkable. Surely, you wouldn't spare him a minute.

"Say, Hop," you started, making him snap out of his thoughts.

"How about you come over to my place for a visit whenever you have some free time? I could show you around the sanctuary if you're interested!" You offered.

Sonia nudged him. "You should take her up on that offer. You'll love it, I swear! It's so pretty at her place," She said.

"You really mean that?" He asked.

"Of course!" You said.

Hop was caught off guard by your offer. He didn't expect you to invite a nobody like him to your precious sanctuary. He really hoped that he wouldn't be a waste of time to you.

Still, he couldn't help but grin wildly as he practically bounced in his seat. "That would be amazing! Thanks a bunch, (Y/N)!" He exclaimed.

"Please, it's my pleasure!" You said with a smile. "Would you hand me your phone? I'll give you my phone number so you can text me whenever you want to come over!" You said.

"O-Oh! Right!" Hop said with a light blush.

He pulled out his phone and opened up a new contact page before handing it to you. Hop was definitely surprised, it wasn't everyday that a woman offered him her phone number.

"Alright. Here you go!" You said, handing him back his phone.

"I'm pretty much always at my place, so come on over anytime, honestly. Just let me know so that I don't miss when you ring the doorbell since I'm often outside!" You said.

"Gotcha. Thanks a bunch for the opportunity, (Y/N)," he grinned.

You smiled. Hop's smile and enthusiasm was contagious. You hoped that he would go through with your offer. Hop was precisely the kind of person you wanted to share your work and passion with.

~~~~~~

To: (Y/N) 

12:08 P.M

- Hiya! It's Hop, Sonia's assistant from the other day. I have some free time, and I was hoping to maybe come and visit you, maybe?

From: (Y/N) 

12:11 PM

- Hop, hey! I've been waiting for you to hit me up! I'd love for you to visit. Come on over. I can't wait to show you around!

To: (Y/N) 

12:11 PM

- Great! I'm on my way, like, right now. Is that cool with you?

From: (Y/N) 

12:12 PM

- Of course. See you in a bit!

Hop couldn't help the huge, dorky grin on his face as he hurried along the nearly hidden path behind Magnolia's house that led to your sanctuary.

He was beyond excited to get a feel for the kind of life you had as a pokémon rescuer. Plus, he had to be honest with himself: he was excited to see you again. 

He was definitely relieved that you meant it when you had offered him to visit, he had almost expected for your words to be hollow. He wouldn't have blamed you, you probably had better things to do than waste your precious time on him. Still, he was grateful.

And he couldn't help but re-read your messages. Especially the 'I've been waiting for you to hit me up.' It was simple, yet he couldn't deny that it made him feel like he was desirable, like you actually might be interested in his company.

The path to your home was rather bumpy. There were quite a few rocks and branches along the way. He had to slow down a bit as he kept tripping over the various debris on the road. You had really picked one hell of a spot for your sanctuary.

When he finally managed to navigate the narrow path of debris and trees, he came to a gorgeous clearing. There, he saw what was most likely your home, which was situated between a large fenced off area and a berry garden. 

He could already see many trees planted inside the fence, and there seemed to be a second building connected to the area, most likely an indoor area for the pokémon.

Hop grinned as he accelerated towards your house, completely hyped now that he was there and about to experience something entirely new to him.

Your home was a rather small, white farmhouse. It seemed that there were two stories to your home, and there was a small porch with an outdoor swing on it. It looked cozy, and for some reason, it was exactly the kind of house that he would think someone with a rescue would have.

Now at your front door, his hand froze midair as he was about to ring your doorbell. He mentally groaned, was he seriously having second thoughts about everything? 

It's not that he didn't want to visit you. If anything, nothing could make him any happier than visiting you at the moment. What if he was going to slow you down in your work? Hop didn't want you to put your whole day on hold just for him. 

He knew that you had told him that he could drop in anytime, but what if he had caught you at a bad time, and you were simply too nice to turn him away? The more he thought about it, the more he felt like a nuisance.

"Get it together, mate. You're here to have fun and get to know a sweet person better. That's all there is to it," Hop whispered to himself, attempting to calm his nerves.

When he finally rang the doorbell, he immediately heard frantic shuffling coming from inside your house. Barely a few seconds had passed, and you had already opened the door, greeting him with a big grin. You were holding a little Sobble in your arms, one of its front legs was bandaged.

Hop couldn't help but be surprised at the speed you had just displayed. Had you really been waiting for him to such a point? The thought was quickly lost, though. You most likely weren't. At least, not for someone as uninteresting as he was.

"Hop! I'm so glad you came by!" You said, stepping out of your home.

"I'm glad to be here! You're absolutely sure that this okay with you, right? I wouldn't want to be a bother," Hop asked.

He regretted asking as he wanted to keep the outing positive, but he really couldn't help sliding that question in. 

"Don't be silly. Really, I'm happy you're here," you said.

When your tone was laced with such sincerity, Hop couldn't help but grin at you. Perhaps, you truly would enjoy his company.

"Ah... wait. You've got a few leaves in your hair," you said.

You reached your hand to his hair, gently brushing it and causing Hop to slightly squeak in surprise. You couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction. It was pretty cute.

"Yeah. I... well, I smashed into a few branches on my way here. I was so hyped that I could barely slow down and look where I was going," Hop admitted.

"Hey, it still happens to me!" You chuckled. 

When you were done brushing the debris out of Hop's hair, you shut the door of your home. 

"Well? Ready?" You asked as you beckoned him to follow you. "Front gate's just this way."

Hop nodded excitedly as he walked by your side. His gaze went to the Sobble that you were still holding.

"So, who's this little fellow?" He asked.

"I call him Dizzy!" You said.

"Dizzy?"

"Yeah... he has a neurological disorder that affects his balance and cognition. He's not super stable on his feet and took a bit of a tumble today. Nothing too drastic, though, just a little scrape!" You explained.

"Whoa, alright. Is it curable, the disorder? S-Sorry if it sounds stupid, I've just never met a pokémon with a neurological problem," Hop asked.

"Not stupid at all. You won't know unless you ask. It can't be cured. It's genetic, and it's there to stay. Unfortunately, Dizzy has the worst level of it, so he has to take medication every day, or else he could get seizures," you said.

Hop frowned at that. "That's... poor thing."

You rubbed Dizzy's head, making him purr in delight. "Yeah... but he's been great!"

You came to a stop so that you could open the main gate of your rescue, holding it out for Hop to go first. You followed after him, shutting the gate afterwards.

"Flygon?" You called out once you were in the perimeter.

Almost instantly, a Flygon dived from the sky, landing right in front of you and Hop. Poor Hop nearly squealed in surprise at the large dragon, especially since it was glaring right at him.

"Hey, hey, ease up! Hop's a friend, he's good!" You cooed, which seemed to calm him.

"Could you take him back to the water area, please?" You asked, handing him the oblivious Sobble.

With a happy cry of his name, the dragon nodded and took to the skies in the direction of the area you had told him.

"You okay there, Hop?" You asked, chuckling at the look on his face.

He quickly shook his head. "Y-Yeah! I just didn't expect you to have a big Flygon around," he said, chuckling.

"Yeah... Flygon's a big help around here!" You said.

"That's pretty sweet."

You nodded in agreement before clasping your hands together. "Now, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" You said enthusiastically.

Barely into your rescue, and it was already bustling with life. Beautiful, healthy plants, flowers and trees bloomed all over the area. It was rather grassy, except for the main pathway. 

Hootoots, Rookidees and Corvisquires were perched atop the branches. Hop could also make out a Leafeon peacefully sleeping in a shaded area. A Galvantula was carefully working on a burrow inside of a cavity in the base of a tree. Its web looked like a work of art.

There were even some berry trees, and a sweet Flapple was knocking ripe berries out of the tree so that a duo of Appletun could snack on them. 

Where large patches of flowers laid, there was a group of Gossifleurs, Eldegoss, Cottonees and Whimsicotts hanging together. Combees, Cutiflies and Ribombees happily twirled around the flowers. 

Hop had to freeze in his steps to let a trio of Nickit, Purrloin and Yamper pass as they seemed to be playing a game of chase with each other.

Your place was gorgeous and immaculate. He felt like he was in a pokémon research lab; only this was a much more natural environment.

"Look at all of 'em..." Hop said, eyes shining in absolute wonder.

You couldn't help but giggle at how cute Hop looked. He was truly in his element. 

"There's even more of them too! Some might be hiding, and others are in other areas," you said with a small yet proud smirk.

"Bloody hell... this is so cool!" He said. "So, do these pokémon all belong to you?" He asked.

"Not necessarily. Some are still wild pokémon, but they happen to be in my care," you said.

As the two of you kept walking along the path, Hop noticed that there was a lack of human presence in your area. Not a single person other than the two of you was in sight.

"Do.... do you run this all by yourself, (Y/N)?" Hop asked incredulously.

"Well... yes," you said, scratching the back of your head.

"How?! Taking care of pokémon with particular needs can't be an easy feat!" Hop said, mouth agape.

You laughed. "It's definitely something, but knowing that I'm helping pokémon in need, the fatigue is worth it."

"You don't have a single employee? Not even one?" Hop asked, still barely believing it.

"Nope. The closest thing that I have to employees is my team of pokémon that I raised during the gym challenge. I have some stationed in each area of the rescue, so if there are any problems, they'll come to me. I also have my Flygon, who keeps an eye on things from the sky during day time, and my Gengar is on night patrol!" You explained.

"Wow, mate, you sure have a handle on things," he smiled.

And then it hit him. "Wait, you were in the challenge?" He asked.

"Yeah! I wasn't doing it the same year as you though. I didn't get to the end... I met Dumpling, and I was so focused on helping her out that I just, you know, dropped out. But I'm happy I-"

You were cut off by the happy barking of your Growlithe, who was running as fast as she could towards you.

You smiled and crouched to her level, patting her fur as she rapidly and excitedly wagged her tail all the while snuggling you.

"Nubby, my little girl! How are you doing?" You cooed.

Alright. Hop had to compose himself for a few seconds as he nearly melted into a puddle of feelings at the sound of your adorable baby voice.

The more he spoke to you, the more he realized just how incredible you were. Boy, did he feel blessed that you even considered giving him a second of your precious time.

You were leagues above him in so many ways. The two of you had started off the same way: you had both started your lives as mere challengers. You didn't even finish yours, yet you still had managed to become someone. You had a goal, and you were accomplishing incredible things. Meanwhile, Hop had completed his challenge, but he was still utter rubbish who had not managed to do anything impressive of his life.

Your presence, Hop loved it more and more as the minutes went by. But he knew that he didn't deserve it. You shouldn't be associating with a loser like him.

He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of his thoughts, pronto. It was then that he noticed that the Growlithe was missing her right front leg. Only a little nub remained, which was probably why you referred to her as Nubby.

"So, who's this girl?" He asked.

"This is Nubby! Her leg had to be amputated because she had severe trauma where she suffered from too many fractures to the point where it was unfixable," you explained.

Hop crouched down as well, cringing slightly at the thought. "I'm kind of scared to ask what happened to her..." he added, extending his hand.

At that, Nubby bounced to Hop's hand, sniffing it before barking happily once again.

"Yeah... let's just say that her previous owner wasn't a very nice person," you said, a bitter frown on your face as you recalled the memories.

"That's absolute rubbish. How could someone treat a pokémon so poorly?" Hop said.

Nubby began to lick and nuzzle Hop's hand as she wanted some head pats, which is precisely what he did.

"Aw... but you're such a good girl. You didn't deserve that," he cooed.

"She really likes you, Hop! You're a natural with pokémon," You said, laughing softly.

"You think?" He asked with a big grin. His heart practically soared at the compliment.

"Duh! Why wouldn't I?" You said.

"I mean... I've never been a great trainer like my brother or Victor, and I can barely consider myself a professor. I still have a lot to learn, you know?" He said.

Hop instantly cringed as the words left his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to remain positive for the day. After all, he's been adoring every second with you. Yet, Hop couldn't help but let his feelings pour a bit. You just gave him that sentiment of trust that made him want to confide in you.

But, he felt absolutely silly at having unloaded his negativity on you. You didn't deserve to have his self-pity on your shoulders.

However, you just sent him a soft smile before crawling to his side and gently putting your hand on his shoulder. The touch had his stomach fluttering.

"Give yourself more credit, Hop. While Victor was completely destroying everyone, you were the only trainer to give him a run for his money. And you already know so much about pokémon, so imagine in a few years how much of an amazing professor you'll be," you said.

"I-" Hop stuttered, unable to express himself as he felt his face heat up. "Geez, (Y/N), thanks... you're too kind," he said.

"I'm just being factual," you said, grinning at him before standing up.

"Heya, Nubby? I have to finish the tour. Come find me later, and we'll play, okay?" You said.

She barked and nodded. She licked him one last time before pulling away from Hop.  She then bounced off to play with other pokémon.

You extended your hand to Hop, which he took and let you pull him up from the ground. Hop's mind ran wild as he noticed that you had not let go of his hand as you led him through your rescue. You were so casual about it.

As you brought him to the next area, his eyes widened at the gorgeous scenery—a large pond surrounded by rocks, shrubs and trees. There was even a little trickling waterfall. Aquatic plants were surfacing, and the stones had natural moss growing on them.

The little Sobble from earlier seemed like he was having a blast floating on top of a Lotad's head. Little Pyukumukus were chilling on the edges of the rocks, and many fish pokémon happily splashed about. Even non-water type pokémon were running around the area.

"So? What do you think?" You asked.

"What do I think? Mate, it's amazing! If I were a pokémon, I'd never want to leave. How'd you even manage all of this?" He asked, absolutely stunned.

"With a lot of work. My family and I all pitched in to build, landscape and plant everything," you said.

"Bloody hell. You definitely succeeded!" Hop said.

Off in the distance, he saw a more rocky and sandy area. Larvitars were rolling around in the sand. A Sizzlipede and Helioptile were sunbathing on rocks. Hop could also see a large group of Salandits.

"Whoa, you've got a lot of Salandits," he commented.

"Yeah... they tend to be a pretty common pokémon in the rescue," you said.

"Is it because of the Salazzles? I'm pretty sure some Salazzles are pretty ruthless with Salandits. You know, taking all their food and stuff," Hop said.

You grinned. "You're actually spot on, Hop! See? You do know your stuff!"

He blushed again, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. Hop was definitely happy that you were complimenting him. It was a nice, refreshing change from his usual intrusive thoughts.

"They're all males, and they've been starved to the point of near-death because of overly dominant Salazzles. Nature can be just as cruel as humans at times," you said.

You sat down in the shade of a tree. Hop followed, sitting next to you.

"Definitely. But they seem really ha- huh? Is that a shiny Salandit," he asked with wide eyes.

You followed his gaze, and you smiled once you saw the sweet Salandit that he was referring to. The little guy was watching you from afar, yet he made no moves to come to you.

"It is... that would be Blizzard," you said. "Blizzard, sweetie, come over here," you called out.

Blizzard flinched, but he complied. However, he was taking slow, shaky steps, and his posture was excessively nervous, which didn't go unnoticed by Hop.

"Hey... what's wrong with the fellow?" He asked.

"Oh... well, he's petrified of anyone who isn't me," you said.

"O-Oh... maybe I should leave, then? I wouldn't want to cause problems," he said.

You shook your head. "Don't be silly, Hop. You're allowed to stay."

"Can I ask why he's so nervous with people?" Hop asked.

You nodded, sighing at the horrible story. "I happened to be in the area when it all went down, releasing some pokémon who were fit to go back in the wild. A shiny hunter had been looking for a shiny Salandit for months to add to his 'collection.' When he finally found Blizzard, he was outraged that he found a male since they're incapable of evolving. In his fit of rage, the hunter yelled at Blizzard, calling him a worthless piece of shit and kicked him so hard against a rock the poor thing's skull cracked."

"What the hell?!" Hop nearly yelled. 

"I know..." you said.

Blizzard had finally crawled to your hand. He sniffed your hand before rubbing his head against your hand. Hop noticed a few scars on top of the Salandit's head. 

"He seems so sweet," Hop said.

You nodded as you scooped Blizzard into your arms and your lap. He curled up into a bundle, really cuddling up to you as much as he could.

"Hey... thanks again for letting me come here, I mean, look at this place! It's amazing! I could just sit here and watch the pokémon all day," Hop said enthusiastically.

"Well, why don't you drop by more often?" You proposed.

"R-Really? I mean, I'd love to. B-But I wouldn't want to be a bother!" He stuttered, voice laced with surprise.

"Oh, come on! I really enjoyed your company today. It's so nice to have someone as enthusiastic and passionate as you around. Plus, wouldn't it be good for your research? To come here and all?" You said.

"I.... you have a point. I had fun today too, and well, you know..." he said, trailing off near the end as his cheeks erupted in a cherry hue.

Hop was adorable, and you meant it when you said that you'd like to have him over more often. You hoped he would as you definitely had an interest in him blossoming within you.

~~~~~~

Hop never expected that a visit to Magnolia's home would make him meet someone like you. Someone he felt at peace and ease with, someone who he sought out their company.

He kept telling himself that he shouldn't be such a burden by dropping in on you so often, but he couldn't help it.

He went to see you whenever possible, and he lived for the moments where he did. Hop was always so mesmerized by all of the pokémon you took care of. You brought so much to his research, even Sonia had noticed.

And today was another day where he was racing down to your home to see you again.

Getting to your place, he immediately saw you on the porch, sitting on your little swing. As he got closer, he noticed that you were holding two little Dreepys. Next to you was Blizzard, who was snuggling against your thigh.

Hop also saw two bottles and blankets placed onto the table next to the swing. You were probably in the midst of caring for the little ones.

You heard footsteps approaching you. Lifting your head, you saw Hop heading your way, a perfect smile upon his face as he waved at you.

"Heya, Hoppers! Come sit with me, you've got to meet these little cuties," you called out.

Upon realizing that Hop was here, the Salandit that had been cuddling you scurried off of the swing to hide behind your feet and under the swing.

Hop frowned at that. Most of the pokémon had gotten used to his presence, and they all let him play and pet them. But it wasn't the case for Blizzard. The poor thing was still terrified of Hop. Not that Hop blamed him.

"Shoot, sorry. I didn't mean to scare him off," Hop apologized, sitting next to you.

You waved off his apology. "It's fine. He'll come around eventually."

"When did you get Dreepys, (Y/N)?" He asked.

"Just the other day. Aren't they cute?" You gushed as you wiggled your fingers at the little ones, causing them to squeal happily.

"They're tiny. Babies?" Hop said.

"Yeah... they're practically newborns. Their mum passed away. Someone contacted me the other day saying that he found the babies near their mum's body," you explained.

Hop frowned. "Poor things. I wonder what happened to the mum."

"I'm not sure. The Dragapult didn't seem to have any wounds, so she may have been sick," you said.

"So, are you going to keep them until they're old enough to fend for themselves? Like what mother Dragapults do?" Hop said.

You smiled. "That's the plan! Unless they decide that they want to stay."

Suddenly, the duo of babies was trying to nibble at your fingers, causing you to retract them before you got chomped.

"They're probably hungry. Why don't we feed them?" You said.

"We? But-" 

Hop was interrupted as you handed him one of the hungry babies. It wiggled its paws excitedly in Hop's arms.

"A-Are you sure, (Y/N)? Maybe you're better off handling things. I don't want to mess anything up," Hop said with an undertone of nervousness.

You couldn't help but frown. This was a recurring problem with Hop. You had noticed that he seemed to think rather lowly of himself ever since you first met him at Magnolia's. At the time, you had brushed off his behaviour as pure nervousness, but you were most definitely wrong. 

Hop put everyone around him on the highest pedestal while he put himself down. He was constantly doubting his abilities and brushing off his accomplishments as if they were nothing. Every so often, he would make pessimistic comments about himself.

His low self-esteem was heartbreaking to you. You thought that Hop was great, and you wished that he could see himself the way you saw him.

"This isn't the first time you've helped me feed a pokémon from the sanctuary, you'll be fine!" You reassured him.

"I- well, alright then," Hop said.

You grabbed the bottles from the table and handed one to Hop. You shook your bottle and held it out to the baby Dreepy who immediately latched onto it.

"Don't tip the bottle too much, so the Dreepy doesn't drink too fast and choke. That's all there is to it!" You said.

Hop stared at you as you fed the baby dragon with a small blush colouring his face. You looked so cute when you took care of pokémon. Your passion and love for what you did really surfaced, and it was so sweet.

The Dreepy that Hop was holding nudged him, wanting food as well. Hop mumbled a small apology to the pokémon for making him wait.

So, Hop copied what you were doing to feed the baby. Hop had never fed a baby dragon before, so this was a pleasant experience.

Your Dreepy was already done eating, and he let out a big yawn. You set the bottle down and grabbed one of the blankets, wrapping him in a little bundle.

"It helps them feel more secure. They usually spend a lot of time in their mother's catapults at this age, so they like being bundled up," you explained.

"You'd make a good parent," Hop blurted, which he instantly regretted.

His blush worsened as he processed the idiotic and embarrassing thing he had just said. What the hell was wrong with him? How in Arceus' name did he come to the conclusion that that was an appropriate thing to say?

"I-I mean I- never mind! J-Just pretend that you didn't hear that!" Hop said, embarrassed.

But, all you did was grin at him. "You really think so?"

He blinked, surprised that you weren't mad or uncomfortable. "Well... yes," he admitted.

You nodded, still smiling. You glanced at his lap and noticed that the baby Dreepy was finished eating and had fallen asleep all curled up in his lap.

"And... you'd definitely be a great dad," you said, winking at him as you held out the other blanket.

Hop's mind practically stopped functioning at your reply, and he would most likely have a heart attack if this kept up.

He grabbed the blanket, and although his hands were a little shaky from what had just transpired, he managed to wrap it around the Dreepy.

"See? You did really well with the Dreepy! Thanks for giving me a hand," you said.

"I-It's my pleasure- huh?" 

Hop paused as he noticed that Blizzard was starting to poke his head out from underneath the swing. The Salandit was looking straight at Hop and tilting his head. He seemed to be intrigued in Hop.

Hop smiled. "Heya, lil' buddy."

You grinned at the scene. Although Blizzard wasn't making any moves to come to Hop, he was starting to recognize Hop as a good person, which was a good thing.

Hop leaned down, holding his hand out to Blizzard. Blizzard continued to stare at Hop's hand, but he ultimately decided to back away a little and hold onto your leg.

"Still not passed the 'no touchy' boundaries, huh? It's alright, take your time," Hop said, sitting upright.

"If anything, I think Blizzard likes you. He's never even tried to make eye contact with others," you said.

"Really?"

"Yeah! He must sense that you're absolutely amazing!" You said.

Hop blushed. "I- thanks, (Y/N)"

Hop never expected that a visit to Magnolia's home would make him meet someone like you. Someone he would end up crushing on, even if he knew that you would never glance at him in that way.

~~~~~~

"Hello? Sonia? Hop?" You called out, entering the research lab.

Hop, who was putting away some books on the second story, turned around at the sound of your voice. He grinned when he saw you.

"(Y/N)! Whatcha doing here?" He asked, heading down the stairs.

You hugged him, which he immediately reciprocated. Thankfully for him, you couldn't see the dorky, lovesick smile plastered on his face when you did.

"I was actually dropping off some rare berries by Sonia's request. You know how much she loves making curry," you said, waving a bag around.

Hop took your bag to place it onto the desk for Sonia to grab whenever she came back to the lab. 

He looked back at you, playfully pouting. "Aw... you didn't come here to see me?"

"Well, it might have been an excuse to come and see you," you winked.

You were just joking around, he knew that. You had to be, there was no way you actually meant that. Even if he knew not to put much thought into it, he couldn't help but hang onto the slight sliver of hope that there was some underlying flirtatious message in your comment. 

"But, er, do you mind if I stay with you a bit?" You asked. "I'll leave if you're busy, though," you added.

Hop practically lit up at your desire to stay with him, and he hoped that he didn't seem like such a dork. 

"No, no, I'd be happy for you to stay. I was getting kind of bored any- hey... are you alright?" Hop interrupted himself, smile faltering a bit when he noticed that you looked exhausted.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Perfectly fine," you said.

You mentally cursed yourself for not covering up your fatigued state better. You were completely drained, and that was a big fact, a fact that you tried to push away as best as you could. 

You knew that you needed to rest, yet you were so stubborn and strict with yourself that you continued to work and work until you looked and felt like a wreck. It made you so happy to make your pokémon happy that you had managed to convince yourself that your own health wasn't as crucial as their wellbeing.

The last few days and nights were particularly rough with the baby Dreepys getting up a few times per night. Plus, you had gotten a difficult Toxtricity who was pulled from a sadistic owner. The pokémon was missing an eye, and scars littered his entire body. He was exceptionally aggressive and defensive, and you had spent a lot of time and energy on him to try to ease him up a bit. There was progress, but the rehabilitation would be long.

You had hoped that it would have gone unnoticed by Hop. He was already struggling with his own self-esteem issues, and you didn't want him to worry about you. You wanted him to take care of himself first and foremost. To hell with the state you brought upon yourself.

But, you knew that he wouldn't let it slide. Hop was just as stubborn as you were.

"Have you been sleeping all that well at all, (Y/N)?" He asked.

"Yes!" You said enthusiastically, though your voice cracked as you felt your head pound from how tired you were.

"You should sit down," Hop insisted, gently taking your hand in his to drag you to the couch.

"I swear, I'm fine, Hop," you protested, even though it was apparent that you were lying as you made no effort to stop Hop from sitting you down.

"(Y/N), we both know that's rubbish. I mean, you can barely keep your eyes open," Hop said.

"I... I guess you're right," you sighed, rubbing your eyes and forehead.

Hop put his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. "Take it easy on yourself, you poor thing."

You nodded, barely having the energy to even speak properly.

Feeling a bit bolder, Hop wrapped an arm around your shoulders and brought you closer against him. You immediately responded by laying your head on his chest, making him blush at the unexpected action.

"You don't mind, yeah? You're kinda comfy," you said.

"I-It's fine," Hop squeaked.

His heart raced a mile a minute, which you could probably hear. Still, he managed to bring his hand up to your head to run it through your soft hair. He swore that you practically purred at the contact.

"I might fall asleep if you keep doing that," you mumbled.

He chuckled. "Guess I'll keep at it then."

And that's exactly what happened. After a few minutes of innocent cuddling, you had ultimately passed out on him. You seemed so peaceful that Hop didn't bother moving from his spot.

It was also because he enjoyed having you so close to him.

He figured that this was the closest thing to more intimate physical contact he would get with you. So, he wasn't complaining. But he kept telling himself that it was just a coincidence that you happened to fall asleep on him, that it didn't make him special. 

As Hop kept playing with your hair, Sonia had walked into the lab, and the first thing she saw was you and Hop cuddled up against one another.

She stared for a few seconds before smirking. "Well, isn't that just adorable?" She teased.

"It's... not what it looks like," Hop defended rather poorly, cheeks beginning to heat up.

"Oh, right, pardon me. You totally aren't cuddling with (Y/N)," she winked.

"They... they were just really tired and ended up passing out... on me," he said, mumbling the last part.

"I mean... it's not like you're complaining, right?" Sonia said.

"Sonia..." Hop warned.

She ignored him. "Like, you're crazy for them, so it must be a dream come true!"

Hop huffed, red-faced in embarrassment. "Your berries are on the desk..."

"You're not getting out of this that easily," she said.

Hop sighed in defeat. "Okay, fine. No, I don't mind having them like this. Far from it, actually."

Sonia giggled, heading over to the bag of berries. "So, when do you plan on asking them out on an actual date?" She said, rummaging through the bag.

He shrugged. "Not now... or ever."

Sonia turned around, looking at Hop questionably. "Why?"

Hop shrugged again, a sad smile overtaking him. "We're just friends, and that's all we'll be. I know they’ll never like me the way I do, so why risk ruining everything, you know?"

"What makes you say that, Hop?" She asked.

"They just... won't. B-But that's fine!" He said, not wanting to pour his feelings of insecurity to Sonia.

She frowned. "Right... well, you should give it a chance. If anything, I've never seen (Y/N) come to the lab as often as this ever since they met you. I think you've got a good chance."

Hop nodded. However, Sonia's words practically went over his head. He would rather endure a one-sided crush than face the reality of rejection. He was convinced that that's what you would do should he try to say anything about his feelings.

Why would you like him? Hop couldn't find a single reason why you would, and it did shatter his heart to pieces.

Even if he would die to have the chance of calling himself your boyfriend, the shattering feeling of rejection and ruining your friendship weren't things Hop wanted to go through.

~~~~~~

Hop was visiting you once more, and he was giving you a hand in handing out food for all of the pokémon. Really, he couldn't have asked for a better way to spend his days; spending time with you, helping you, taking care of pokémon and learning new things.

He was outdoors, near the water and sandy areas of the rescue. You weren't too far from him. He could see you through some trees sitting at a fair distance from your Toxtricity. He could hear you talking about random little things as a tactic to get the pokémon used to your presence.

Glancing at you, he smiled at how determined you looked to get Toxtricity to trust again. There was a small difference in behaviour that was noticeable. The pokémon no longer tried to attack you on sight.

He placed various dishes down for the pokémon that were hanging near the water area, and from the corner of his eye, he saw the little Sobble lose his balance, which had the lizard nearly slip off the rocks.

Hop rushed over to Dizzy, catching him before he could fall and hurt himself. 

"Heya, you've gotta be more careful, mate. You don't want to get hurt again, huh?" He lightly scolded.

Dizzy, still in Hop's arms, tilted his head innocently, not understanding what was going on. Hop chuckled at that and patted Dizzy's head, making him purr in delight.

"Everything alright, Hoppers?" You called out from the trees.

"All good! Just Dizzy being, well, dizzy," Hop replied.

"You sure are a handful, aren't you?" He said to Dizzy. "Not that you mean it, or anything."

Hop set the Sobble back down onto the ground, near all the other pokémon so that he could eat. It was one big, happy family, and all of the pokémon of the area always pitched in to keep an eye on the Sobble whenever possible.

Turning around, Hop blinked in surprise as saw the shiny Salandit slowly crawling over to him. However, Blizzard immediately froze in his tracks when he noticed that Hop saw him.

Hop crouched, holding his hand out. "You have nothing to be afraid of. Trust me, please?"

To his absolute bafflement, Blizzard took more steps forward. They were slow and shaky, but he was approaching Hop nonetheless.

And then, the Salandit sniffed Hop's hand. Going a bit further, Hop rubbed the underside of Blizzard's chin, which he responded by nuzzling Hop's hand, happily wagging his tail.

"See? I'm not so bad, right?" Hop said, making Blizzard nod in agreement.

"Can I help you, sir?" 

Hop stopped petting Blizzard at the sound of your voice, immediately on alert. The tone of your voice sounded very wary, and rightfully so as there was an unknown man in front of you.

You stared at the new presence with caution. Your sanctuary wasn't open to the public, so this man was trespassing.

You didn't like the way that he was looking at you, glaring at you and scanning you with a sneer. He was making you slightly uncomfortable, but you kept your cool. If anything happened that you didn't like, both your Flygon and Hop would be by your side.

And you had a feeling that Hop was keeping an eye on you in the distance. You had noticed how he had started becoming a little protective of you. It was especially noticeable when he scolded you about taking poor care of yourself.

As the man wasn't responding, you spoke up again. "If you don't have any particular business with me, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This is private property."

"I've got business with you," he said.

"And that would be..?" You pressed.

"You the bitch who's got my Toxtricity?" He asked.

Your eyes widened. The Toxtricity you had gotten just two weeks ago, this was his previous owner. From the corner of your eye, you saw the pokémon in question flinch. You were, suddenly, feeling very bitter.

"Oh... you mean the Toxtricity that's covered in scars and burn marks? The one that's missing an eye?" You said.

He smirked. "Yeah. That one. I'm here to pick it up. Just hand it over to me, and we ain't gon' have any problems."

"I don't think so," you said, taking a step back as the man stepped forward.

The air felt heavy as the man kept a glare etched on you. He was tall and rather buff. If he had no issues harming his own pokémon for nothing more than sick pleasure, then what would stop him from hurting you?

"I'm not gonna say it again. Hand the fucking thing over if you don't wanna end up like it," he said.

That was enough for Hop.

"Is there a problem?" Hop said as he stepped to your side.

The intruder chuckled, his tone was full of mockery. "This fuckin' stick is your bodyguard? How cute."

"I swear, mate, leave them alone," Hop nearly growled, taking a step forward so he could be in front of you.

"What the fuck do you expect to do- oh... there you are," the man said, glancing off to the side and noticing Toxtricity.

Toxtricity growled at the man, though you could clearly see the poor thing shaking in absolute fear. 

In mockery, the man chuckled and took a few steps towards the panicked pokémon, causing you to panic a bit.

"No! Don't even think of getting close to him," you yelled.

You tried to hurry to Toxtricity before he could, but before you could, the man had smacked you hard enough for you to plunge to the ground.

This caused your Flygon to dive from the sky, snarling at the man as he shielded both you and Toxtricity. As for Hop, utterly furious, he had decided to release one of his most prized pokémon to come to your aid. That's how the intruder found himself sandwiched between a furious Flygon and a powerful Zacian.

"Zacian, Flygon, pin him down! Make sure that this worthless piece of rubbish can't escape," Hop ordered.

The two pokémon were more than happy to comply, the man never stood a chance as Flygon whacked the man with his tail, causing him to fly to Zacian's side where the legendary wolf kept a paw on him to prevent him from escaping. It looked beyond painful, but Hop didn't care.

"Keep him in place, Zacian," Hop said.

Even with the aching pain you felt, you couldn't help but stare at the legendary pokémon in wonder. You knew that Hop had Zacian by his side, but you had never seen it. And looking at it in person, obeying Hop's commands without a single protest was terrific. Hop was truly a great trainer that deserved every ounce of recognition, but you had never doubted that. Not once.

With that, Hop raced to your side, wasting no time in hugging you tightly before helping you back up on your feet.

"(Y/N)! Are you okay? Shit, that's gonna leave a bruise," he said, analyzing your injury.

"I-I'll be-"

"Shit... I'm so sorry I let that happen," he continued, not letting you speak.

"Hop, it's not-"

"Oh fuck... how could I let that happen to you?"

"Hop..."

"I'm so stupid. I should have reacted sooner. What was I thinking?"

You hugged him tightly, catching him off guard and causing him to finally cease his frantic, pessimistic comments about himself.

"I'm glad you stepped in when you did. If you hadn't, who knows what would have happened to Toxtricity and me. Thank you," you said.

"B-But... you got hurt," Hop muttered, voice cracking slightly.

"It'll heal. It's not your fault. You're a hero, for all I care," you said, pulling away with a smile.

"I... I'm glad you think so," he said.

He turned back to glare at the piece of shit, still struggling underneath his Zacian's weight. 

"Go inside and clean yourself up. Get a bag of ice, sit down and decompress, okay? I'll call the police so they can come to pick up the trash. I'll stay here until they arrive," he said, turning back to you.

"Okay. Thank you. But... can you, you know, come inside with me after? I don't want to be alone after what happened," you said, cheeks heating a bit.

Hop felt his heart skip a few beats at the fact that you were seeking comfort in him.

He nodded. "Anything for you," he said, smiling nervously at his choice of words, but you didn't seem to mind.

As you distanced yourself from the scene, you couldn't help but smile despite it all. You were so thankful that Hop was there for you, and you knew that you could trust him with everything. He was wonderful.

~~~~~~

You stared at yourself in your bedroom mirror, nodding confidently as you felt that you looked presentable. Although you weren't really going for an extravagant look, you looked cute.

There had always been chemistry between you and Hop. Being with him felt natural and right; you had practically instantly clicked. Over the months, your interest in Hop grew and grew until you could confidently say that you had fallen in love with him.

And so, after much consideration and hyping yourself up, you had decided that you would take it upon yourself to make a romantic move on Hop. You were going to ask him on a little date.

You exited your house to head to Wedgehurst, a giddy and warm feeling surfacing. If Hop accepted, you would be the happiest person in Galar.

It's been so long since you've dated anyone, and although you hadn't been actively looking for a significant other, you were happy that you happened to meet Hop.

Hop was the kind of man you'd love to date. He was such a bundle of energy, passion and ambition, which made him stand out from other people you've met. He was such a sweetheart with you, and he obviously cared a lot for you. What more could you ask for?

When you were in front of the lab, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You were excited, but nervous. You nodded to yourself, it was now or never. Entering the lab, you saw Hop lazing on the lab's couch, watching something on his Rotom Phone. You heard some rummaging noises coming from the back of the lab, most likely Sonia.

Hop lifted his gaze, grinning when he saw you heading his way. He set his phone down.

"(Y/N)! Hi! What brings you here?" Hop asked, still grinning.

"Well, I... I'm not bothering you, right?" You asked as feeble attempt to take your time in asking him out.

"Pft. When do you ever bother me?" Hop said.

"Okay. Good, that's good," you said, already feeling your cheeks heat up.

You came here, feeling so confident in yourself, knowing exactly what to say and how to say it, only to transform into a moron when you were in front of Hop.

"Hey... you feeling alright? Are you sick or something?" Hop asked, concern lacing his voice.

"No, no, I'm cool. I just-" you took a deep breath. "You see... there's this really nice café in Turrfield, and well, would you like to go with me?" You finally asked.

Hop blinked, visibly processing your words before blushing madly. "Wait. Are you... are you asking me on a date," he asked, completely shocked.

You giggled. "Well, yes!"

Hop couldn't believe it. Why were you asking him on a date? Of all people that you could choose, you were going for the most significant failure the region had ever seen.

Hop had been pining for you for so long now, but he had convinced himself that this scenario was improbable, impossible, even. This had to be some kind of sick joke, right?

But, you weren't the type of person to do such a thing, to play with someone's feelings. You were better than that.

And that was the problem: you were too good for him. You deserved better, and he knew it. Hop accepted it.

Meanwhile, your heart was practically pounding out of your chest as you waited for Hop's answer. His silence was making you beyond nervous.

Hop shook his head and cleared his throat. "I... I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I'll have to say no."

Your heart shattered in millions of pieces at that. 

"O-Oh..." was all you managed to say.

Hop cringed at the dejected look you had. He didn't mean to hurt you, but hopefully, this would push you to seek someone better than him.

Or maybe it was a ridiculous thought that he was regretting. He regretted it so much, but he couldn't seem to voice his actual feelings. He was so deep in his low self-esteem.

You nodded, averting your gaze from Hop's. "Right. Yeah. That's totally fine!" You said, trying to remain positive, but it was more than evident that your enthusiasm was fake.

"(Y/N), I-" 

"It's fine, really! You don't have to explain yourself. You have every right not to want to go on a date with me," you said, voice quivering.

Hop didn't say anything. There was nothing more that he desired than go out with you. Why couldn't he say anything?

"I'm gonna go now, okay? I'll go do... stuff. I'll see you, right?" You said, already backing away.

Hop bit his lip. "Yeah..."

And you were out the door quicker than you could have imagined. Feelings of humiliation, frustration and heartbreak were taking over you, and you didn't want to stick around for anyone to see your tears.

Hop stared at the door, running his hands through his hair in absolute horror at what he had just done. He initially thought that this was going to be the best option to keep you from dating an absolute nobody, but he was processing what a colossal mistake that was.

Hop hated seeing you upset, he always wanted to see your eyes shine with life. Now, he had never seen you so broken, and he was the cause of it. That stung on so many levels.

"I outta smack you right now. What in the world was that about, Hop?" Sonia exclaimed, stomping over to him.

"I-"

Sonia interrupted him. "No, you know what? I don't even want to hear your excuses. I thought you liked them!"

"I do like them!" Hop said, flinching at Sonia's tone with him.

"Then, why did you reject them? I don't get it, Hop. They obviously like you!"

"But..."

"No! You are going to take the day off, and you are going to go see your friend, whose heart you just split, and talk things out with them," Sonia ordered.

Hop bit his lip and nodded. Sonia was right, he fucked up, and he needed to make up for his mistake. He needed to open up to you.

Weren't you, after all, the best person that he could pour his heart to? Weren't you the sweetest, most open-minded and trustworthy person he knew and fell in love with?

~~~~~~

Sitting on your living room couch, your Frosmoth cuddled up to you as you cried your heart out. She was trying to make you feel better, and you appreciated her efforts, even if you both knew that your heartbreak wouldn't cure with little cuddles.

You glanced at your front door as someone knocked on it. You ignored it at first, not having the energy to get up, but you eventually caved in as the knocking became more frantic.

You reluctantly stood up, and when you opened up the door, Hop was there, looking as guilty as ever. His eyes seemed glossy, seemingly about to cry himself. You contemplated slamming the door in his face, but you couldn't bring yourself to do that to Hop.

"(Y/N). Can... can I come in?" He asked softly.

You nodded, sidestepping to let him in. The two of you remained silent for what seemed to be an eternity. The air was tense.

Suddenly, Hop tightly wrapped his arms around you, placing your head against his chest. He rested his face in the crook of your neck, and you felt little droplets streaming down your skin.

"I'm... damn it. I'm so sorry, (Y/N)," he muttered. "I'm such an idiot. I just- I didn't want to hurt you like that. I'm the worst."

"I told you, Hop. It's okay if you don't want to go out with me. I'm not forcing you," you whispered.

He pulled away from you, keeping his hands on your shoulders. "But I do want to go out with you."

"Wha-? But you said-"

"I know what I said, and I lied through my teeth," he admitted.

"Why? If you wanted to, then why did you reject me?" You asked, genuinely confused.

"It's going to sound stupid, and it really is, b-but I..." he said, trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

You took his hand in yours. "Here, let's sit," you said as you guided him to the couch.

You didn't let go of his hand when you sat down, hoping to give him a bit of comfort. You weren't as upset as you were just a few minutes ago, though you were confused and wanted answers.

"I said no because I thought you would be better off with someone else," he admitted.

"Someone else? Why would you think that?" You asked, completely flabbergasted.

"(Y/N), I- damn it. I'm nothing special! You could do so much better than a failure like me. You deserve the best, and I'm not that. I'm talentless rubbish."

Your jaw nearly dropped. It wasn't uncommon for Hop to make small, negative comments about himself, but this was the first time you've heard him degrade himself to such an extent.

"I wanted to be a legend, to surpass my brother and become the champion, but my friend was better than me. Everyone throughout my entire journey was better than me. Everyone is still better than me."

"Hop-"

"I haven't accomplished anything, there's nothing to set me apart from others. I figured that the right thing to do was to spare you from the embarrassment that would come with dating Galar's biggest loser..." he squeezed your hand, "... but it would destroy me to see you with someone else, even if I know that you deserve the world. The world that I can't provide."

More tears streamed down his cheeks as all of his darkest thoughts finally came out of him. It was heartbreaking to see Hop in such a state, to voice what he thought of himself. 

You thought none of the things he had just said, and you thought that you had made it obvious over all the time you've spent together. You were always there to give him reassurance, to hype him up when he didn't believe in himself. Hop looked so broken and lost like he didn't know what else to do or think. You couldn't believe that he thought so lowly of himself to the point where he felt that he didn't deserve anything good happening to him.

"Hop, sweetheart, look at me," you said. "How could you even have the audacity to say all these horrible things about yourself?"

"It's the tru-"

"No. You think you're a failure because you didn't become a champion? Please. I don't care that you didn't win. Don't you like what you're doing right now?"

"Yes..."

"There! That's all that matters. And for the record, you're phenomenal at what you do. You have so much knowledge about pokémon, and you're a natural with them. I should know, I see the way you are at the sanctuary. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: imagine just how amazing you're going to be as a professor in the future when you're already that good."

Hop wiped at his tears a bit. "You... really think I'm doing okay?"

You smiled. "More than okay! You think you're talentless, that you haven't accomplished anything and that you're not unique? Bullshit. Say that to the Zacian, who chose you as one of the heroes. Say that to Victor, who has a hard time standing against you in battle when no one else can. Say that to the insane amount of progress you've made to become a professor. Heck, you might just become one of the youngest professors!"

"(Y/N)... I- you really think that of me?" He asked, hope lacing his tone.

You nodded, rubbing soothing circles on his hand with your thumb. "Yes, and I really like you, Hop. Without even looking at what you've accomplished, I still like you. You could be the most ordinary person, and I'd still like you. You get what I'm saying? I'm attracted to you as a person for all of your amazing qualities and your adorable quirks. I like you because I feel a connection between us, and I just feel comfortable with you."

Hop chuckled, his bright smile returning to him as he blushed madly. He pulled you into a hug, and you immediately clung onto him.

"Thank you, (Y/N). I needed to talk to someone about this, and I just- thank you. I like you too, a lot. So, so much," he said. He pulled away from you. "So.. about that date?"

You laughed softly, leaning in to plant a small kiss to the corner of his lips. That alone made Hop's mind go blank as he chuckled with a smitten look on his face.

Maybe he wasn't Galar's ultimate winner, but why should he care when he already had everything he needed and wanted? Hop would be damned to let a gem such as yourself go, so he'd be selfish just this once and keep you for himself.