All Hop needs is courage and the right opportunity to confess his feelings.
His pokemon believe there's no time like the present.
Read Here at A03
Hop sighs as he rolls the pink Pokeball back and forth across the wooden tabletop. It’s obvious but would this choice make it too obvious? The message the pokemon inside sends is clear-- I want to be with you forever. And just to make it even more clear Hop planned to give a whole speech with the gift too, just so there would no misunderstanding whatsoever.
If he was going to confess, he planned on making it absolutely and irrevocably clear that he loves her, is in love with her. And he wanted to be by her side, not just as a rival, not just as a friend, but as hers, as… her boyfriend. The single word, the idea of being her “boyfriend” causes his cheeks to flare up in crimson red, the color barely discernable on his umber skin tones, but felt decided and present all the same.
Now all he needed was courage and the right opportunity.
The heart-patterned ball stops its roll and a bright bolt of lightning strikes with its opening, revealing its shape, its pokemon inside. Blinking up at him, the Applin wobbles and rolls, dizzy from its tops and turns in the Pokeball. When it gains its composure, the small pokemon blinks up at him, indignant as it wiggles across the table.
“Sorry,” He apologizes to the Applin and sighs.
It took a lot to capture the small pokemon, specifically the one in front of him. Its color is robust, an emerald green, rare in comparison to the rest of its species. The process took time, effort, and a lot of luck. He’d spent every waking moment camping in their natural habitat, studying their mannerisms, interacting with ones that drew close.
And then came this one. The pokemon was shyer than its crimson counterparts, far less trustworthy of his intentions and more likely to run away each day. But it still kept coming back, each day coming closer and closer to his campsite until one day he turned around to serve curry to his awaiting pokemon and found it there, resting on top of Dubwool’s head.
Its special color was a bonus, but it was the personality, the way the pokemon hummed with energy and personality to match its recipient. The way it ran away and came back, its own stubborn refusal to be like the rest, it reminded him of her, of Gloria, the one he’d always known.
The Applin paces in front of him, turns and inches to the window and the view of the evening outside. When it spots something in the sky, the pokemon calls out, alerting him to the presence of a landing Corviknight taxi into the sleepy town of Postwick.
It seemed she was coming in late, again.
From his window, Hop watches his childhood friend stretch, her arms reaching towards the sky. She is later than he’d expected her to be, probably caught up in the responsibilities of Champion back in Wyndon. Tossing her tangled mass of hair over her shoulder, the figure in the distance shrugs, squares her shoulders and prepares to walk into the cottage.
The Applin in front of his calls out, pointing its body in the direction of Gloria’s disappearing figure. It was almost like the pokemon was saying, “Do it now, there’s no time like the present!” Or something. The pokemon is insistent, pushing against the windowpane.
Hop laughs, grabbing the pokemon’s Love Ball. “Okay, maybe it’s time you go back into your ball.”
The bright light shoots out from the balls surrounding the pokemon, taking it in. And almost immediately the pokemon is back out, escaping its ball in a stubborn refusal to be quieted. Indignant, the Applin glares at him, rolling towards the edge of the table, ready to leave for Hop’s confession, whether he is there or not.
As it rolls off the edge of the table, Hop catches the pokemon mid-air, shaking his head sighing. “Okay, okay, I get the point.” It seemed there would be no avoiding it. It would be now or never.
Returning the Applin to its ball once again, Hop pulls out his rotom and shoots Gloria a quick text, holding his breath and waiting for an answer.
Hey Glo, you busy?
Seconds feel like hours while he waits for her answer.
A breath is released with her answer.
No, what’s up?
Okay. Now or never. Placing the pink ball into his pocket, Hop shoots her one last text and runs out the door.
At the bridge that parks the halfway point between his house and hers, Hop waits for Gloria to arrive. Spring nights are crisp in Postwick and this one is no different. Surrounding trees are on the verge of blossoming, the grass pokemon ready to come up from their borrows for warmer weather.
Everywhere, everything is on the verge, of something.
“Hey!” Running breathlessly to him with a smile is Gloria. Tangled locks of hair en mass on every side of her flushed face.
Laughing, he reaches out to place one strand behind her ear. For a second, he swears her face flushes darker, a brighter red, but at his touch, she straightens, clears her throat and her smile falters for the briefest moment.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” The hand in her pocket seems to fidget as she speaks.
Right to the point. He smiles a bit, runs his hands through his hair, calculating, attempting to craft the speech in his head he was sure would just come to him at this opportune moment. Instead, his mind is blank, full of jumbled phrases of “I love you” and “I always have” and other words that have no place at the beginning of his confession unless they were in some dramatic comic or tv show.
But what comes out first is not a single word, but the pokeball. The Love Ball in his pocket twitches, rolls out, and as he fumbles for the catch, its bright light strikes out and the Applin appears between them instead.
The next moment lasts an eternity and a heartbeat as Hop stands frozen, Love Ball in hand, Applin at their feet. This isn’t how he imagined any of it would go. No part of him can bear to look at the girl on from of him, to see what expression awaits on her face.
“Hop, I--” His name is slow and quiet on her lips, and he winces, prepared for the rejection. Cutting her off to say what he needed to before she could.
“Wait, Glo.” He takes a deep breath. “Let me say my part, please.”
His eyes train on the Pokemon between them, the way it delights and rolls up to Gloria in greeting. “We’ve been friends-- No, wait.”
He tries again, taking in a larger breath for his next words, finally making eye contact with the object of his affections. Her eyes are wide, full of an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Carefully, he takes her hand, and she lets him.
“Glo, we’ve known each other forever, and I don’t know how it began, how things shifted so slowly without my notice, but somewhere along the way, I think, no, I know, I fell in love with you.”
Slowly, Hop intertwines her pale fingers with his, giving enough time and space for her to pull away if she wants. “But, by the time I figured it out, you were miles and mile ahead of me, running fast. I was afraid you’d never slow down, wait for me to catch you, like this.”
He gives her hand a small squeeze, takes one steady breath. “So, now that I’ve caught you, I want to tell you my feelings, completely and absolutely. “Glo, I love you, not as my rival, not as my friend, but as so much more than that.”
The Applin between them bounces, sways from side to side. The pokemon seems to revel in the confession, and he sighs. At least one of them feels comfortable in all this.
“So there, I’ve said my peace. I just wanted you to know.”
Instead of answering, of saying anything at all, Gloria releases her hand from his and takes a step back. From her pocket, she pulls out her own pink Pokeball and releases the pokemon inside. And one Applin becomes two, as a second sleepier Applin joins the first in front of them.
Looking up at him, Gloria smiles ruefully. “You know it’s funny… I’ve been meaning to do this, but as usual… you beat me to the punch. I feel the same. Now, the next question is, and we don’t have to do this now, but” from her other pocket, Gloria pulls out two apples, “Tart or Sweet?
