The evening started like most others. Or at least, how Low imagined most others started. He showed up at the cafĂŠ, trying to act casual. He had obtained tickets to an inter-regional passenger plane that was based in Mistralton; the tickets cost him a fortune, so his dad wouldnât be happy when he got the bill later, but that wasnât important at the moment. What was, was the small creak that came with the opening of the cafĂŠ door, and the fiery head of hair that accompanied it.
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âAre you ready, Low?â The man attached to the hair said, taking large strides past his âdateâ Low. Low nodded, smiling lightly. The man, a hothead aptly-named Chili, was wearing a black jacket with big buttons, a black trench coat, and a scarf with a flame pattern on it, all of which probably being designer labels that cost as much as Lowâs tickets. A Drifblim was stationed nearby to take them to the airport; a special service that the Undella travel agency threw in, with a little extra hit to whatever trust Lowâs dad still had in him. That wasnât important, though.
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âAs Iâll ever be,â Low responded, trying desperately to keep his voice even. He was messing with the hem of his shirt; his mother was from Johto, and thus his styles tended towards more oriental fare that she made for him. In this case, it was an outfit that he thought sheâd called a Hakama, black on top with purple âpantsâ, though Low knew that wasnât the right word for them. Still, he thought it looked cool, if a bit out-of-place for the middle of Unova.
âThen letâs go!â Chili responded, pointing to the Drifblim dramatically and starting off. The Drifblim, obediantly, took the boys up and away. The flight was mostly silent and awkward, with Low trying hard not to make it awkward, but failing miserably. He tried once or twice to start a conversation, but he couldnât come up with anything substantial. At least, anything that he didnât end up pittering out on after a single response.
The flight to Johto had a similar awkwardness to it. The check-in being nondescript in every way, (sans Chili getting patted down by a particularly grumpy-looking security guard), the flight was met with a sort of awkward silence that Chili seemed to remedy by staring out the window blankly while Low blushed and tried to come up with a topic to talk about. This silence continued on to touchdown, just as Low thought that he had something to talk about. A stewardess came to get them and took them outside to a Ferry. It was the last run the ferry was doing that night before going off to do their own festivities, and so the captain was rather grumpy when he addressed the few passengers he had, Low and Chili included.
âAll right,â He said, in a way that made Chili suspect heâd been into the New Years Champagne already, âWeâre going inland to Goldenrod now. Keep your hands inside at all times, unless you wanna be fish food.â He had a bit of an accent, but Low wasnât sure what to do. However, he started blushing when Chili scooted into him; a response to a rather hefty couple getting onto the boat and finding that, instead of sitting in any of the open seats, they wanted the tiny seat next to Chili. Low was speechless and flustered, but Chili just snickered.
âBut what if we want to be fish food?â Chili joked, probably trying to get on the captains nerves. He was succeeding, even if that wasnât the plan. He was leaning over Low and waving his hands over the water. A Qwilfish seized the opportunity and jumped out of the water at him, causing him to retract his hand. Low giggled a little, but Chili just stared at the sea. He didnât know the captain was being that serious!
Other than that episode, the boat ride was about as exciting as a bag of air. The two arrived in-town and at Whitneyâs gym with little affair. They were greeted by a rather grumpy-looking doorman who must not have wanted to work on New Years, but needed the money. He waved them in when he noticed that they werenât going away, leading them into the grand party room.
Everyone was in formal attire. Thankfully for Lowâs mental state, he wasnât the only one in more traditional clothing; others, most likely natives, were wearing kimonos or hakamas themselves. Some might have even been from Kanto. It was hard to tell. Of course, most were in more westernized clothing; tuxedos were commonplace on the dancefloor, and the girls were all wearing fancy dresses and the like. He was glad that he wasnât out-of-place, but it was hard to tell who he was with, unlike some dates who had coordinated outfits or some such. He looked to his date, but he was already headed for the punch bowl. Possibly to talk to someone.
Low, not used to these formal party situations, just found an open table and sat at it. He took a moment to examine the decor. The place was naturally bright and colorful, but the lights were turned down for the festivities. Lanterns were hung from the ceiling, and Low could swear that the centerpiece hanging in midair was a Chandelure. The walkways above their hears were being used as an auxiliary dance floor, but most of the dancing was being done on the ground level.
Chili came back as Low was taking it all in. âPunch?â He asked, handing a cup to Low.
âTh-Thanks...â The psychic responded, taking the cup and trying hard not to blush. He thought he heard Chili laugh a little bit. That did the trick.
âHey, why donât you dance with me?â Chili suggested. Low almost spit his punch out, which made Chili laugh a little. âWhy so shocked? You are my date, afterall.â Low nodded, swallowing his punch and getting up, to be dragged off by his date and up onto the elevated dancefloor. The music became one of a more latin flavor; not the fast-paced latin that most think of, but that slow lating that calls for only one style of dance: the tango.
âWait, no, I canât do the tan-â Low started, but he was cut off as Chili pulled him close and started to dance. Low followed best he could, but his face was beat red. He felt like everyone was watching him. Which may have been true, as a spotlight was shining on them.
âI called in a few favors,â Chili said when he saw Lowâs confusion. Low nodded.
âBut... I donât know this dance,â The younger of the two said.
âThatâs fine,â Chili said, âJust follow me. Oh, and I should warn you-â he turned suddenly and brought Low down in a dip, â-too late.â He smiled a coy smile that made Low blush redder, if such were possible, and brought him back up, leading him back across the walkway.
âI-Iâm sorry I canât dance too well,â Low said, trying hard to avert his eyes. He was dipped again.
âWho said that?â Chili asked, carefully turning Lowâs head, so that he could look into his violet eyes. âYou have beautiful eyes,â Chili teased, âSo donât hide them from me.â Then, when the pause was just enough for the crowd to take it in and the music to go on, he brought them back up and continued.
Low was trying hard to keep up. He had no training in dance, while he was sure Chili did. His biggest priority, though, was not disappointing Chili. He figured it be a bit of an endeavor to to so, but it was worth it.
âYouâre so tense, Low,â He heard, bringing him out of his concentration, âYou should loosen up, feel the music.â He laughed lightly, making Low blush. He tried to bring his focus up from his feet and up to Chiliâs face. The face of a young man, smiling coyly, laughing a little... âItâs okay to be a little nervous, though.â And with that, Low was swept away.
The dancing moved on, after awhile, leaving Chili and Low to mingle. But Low couldnât get the dance out of his head; the rhythm, the movement... Heâd never seen Chili dance before, but tonight he had felt it. There bodies in almost-perfect sync, bodies close, breathing together, his hands firm on his waist...
âHey, Low,â He heard Chili call him, âItâs almost midnight.â
âY-Yeah,â Low replied, though a little confused. It was New Years, but he wasnât sure why Chili wanted him over to be with him, besides that they were there together.
âAnd I have a little something for you,â He continued, his coy smile appearing again. Low blushed.
âAnd wh-what would that be?â The psychic asked, trying hard not to appear nervous.
âYouâll see,â Was his dateâs response. Lowâs mind was racing with questions like âBut, New Years isnât a gift-giving holiday...â and âWhat could it be..?â It was then that he noticed the timer that had been erected on the far wall of the gym. He must not have noticed it earlier; either they just put it up, or he was just that absorbed in the dance.
âTen!â Low jumped a little, surprised, but more because he had forgotten about the countdown and less from itâs volume.
âNine!â Chili smiled and grabbed Lowâs hand.
âEight!â Low jumped and turned to meet Chili.
âSeven!â Low tilted his head quizzically at Chili.
âSix!â Chili smiled.
âFive!â Low blushed.
âFour!â Chili leaned into Low.
âThree!â Low blushed further.
âTwo!â Chiliâs lips met Lowâs forehead.
âOne!â Low could have sworned he was going to faint.
âZero!â The world around them was partying, but Low was lost as Chili lifted his head back.
âHappy new year!â Chili said, poking he spot he had just kissed.
