That obnoxious, outlandish sensation of feeling invisible moved like sludge—sticky, persistent. It clung despite all efforts to shuck it clean off, even if he’d rather let nostalgic joy wash over him at the sight of a long-lost friend. He felt a bit gross, in all honesty; the heaviness of selfishness drawled down his spine and spurred him to straighten.
How long had it been since he’d seen Raihan? It’d been years, that much he knew. He knew that Raihan had accelerated to snatch that Johtonese crown in recent times, though with different time zones and an uncertainty if Raihan had clung to his old phone number or leapt onto something new and fresh and untainted (combined with just plain forgetfulness on Leon’s end), Leon hadn’t reached out to congratulate his old rival. Their conversations had petered sometime after Raihan left Galar, long distance not favouring two men driven like a couple of galloping scolipedes.
His voice was drowned by the bass of the tunes. No patron even spared him a glance, either—probably presuming him to be another fan, desperate for a touch, maybe even a honeyed word.
“Bloody hells,” he grumbled lowly. He sunk back in his seat, gaze drowning in his vivid pink cocktail. Sap-drooled eyes flashed then from side-to-side, trying to figure out some way to grab the other’s attention. People were fawning over him relentlessly; it’d be hard to procure his attention without barrelling his way through the swaying mass like a tauros.
Leon set his cocktail down on the counter. He took his stance; firm and bold. He waited for a lull in the music overhead, then he took his chance.
He struck his pose, he let his teeth shine, eyes on Raihan and Raihan alone. It didn’t hold the same flair as it did when he wielded his cape and hat, but gods did he let his voice boom.
Laughter, smiles, hands that seek and yearn for just a simple touch. The atmosphere practically swallows up the new champion, integrating him into the scene whether he wanted to be or not.
Much like a Wooloo he's herded by the crowd, fans attempting to stay close to his person, and in such a way that they practically create their own perimeter around him, keeping out all the others. He feels a hand then slide smoothly up his arm, curling around a bicep with the clear intention of staying there, and maybe even keeping him there. The face connected to the hand is pretty enough for him to allow it, for now.
LETS HAVE A CHAMPION TIME!
Immediately he feels his mood plummet and face sour at the phrase, irritation cracking through his body like a whip. Surely it was a fan, and a well researched one at that. And yet, he still finds himself searching the crowd for the owner of the voice. With how he towers over the locals, he isn't hard to find.
Except, it's not a fan. It's really, really Leon.
He blinks in rapid succession, as though the person just meters away is a mirage, as if someone was playing a joke on him. As ridiculous as it is, he even gives another quick glance about the bar, as though expecting a camera crew to pop out and yell surprise.
But it doesn't happen, only Leon and that terrible pose, and even worse catch phrase.
If he wanted to steal the spotlight, it certainly works, fans peeling themselves off of him to then swarm the Galarian champion, Mr. Unbeatable himself.
On a dime, Raihan's mood shifts again, and with it comes a blinding grin, one that hasn't been shot to his Ex-Rival in ages. He feels almost like a daycare owner as he steps around all his fans that still swarm his ankles akin to toddlers.
"Well, well, well. Look what the Meowth dragged in." After ages, Raihan can say that this gay bar was likely the last place, and person he had anticipated running int. There’s surprise though, and even a lick of glee at the revelation of such a revered trainer. It’s been years since he’d faced Leon as a teen, and by Arceus he’s gotten better. He’d prove that much.
"If you're out here cheering that," he starts, pushing his way through throngs of fans until he lands at his feet, leaning against the bar much like he would to flirt, "you must be looking for a battle." Much like his favored typing, Raihan towers over the other champion, challenge lighting teal eyes.
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
baratheonpilled
theartofmadeline
origamiaround
