Gladion sits across from you at the beachside café, the salty breeze tousling his platinum blond hair as he fiddles with the straw in his drink. The tension in his shoulders is barely noticeable.

He glances at you, trying to gauge your expression, but it gives nothing away. You’re talking about something, recounting a story about catching a Pokemon or something that has you gesturing animatedly, and while he nods at the appropriate moments, he’s not really listening. Instead, his mind is stuck on a loop, replaying the moment he told you how he felt.

The memory makes him cringe. It wasn’t perfect—far from it. His voice had been too sharp, his words too rushed, and he’s convinced that he sounded more like he was issuing a challenge than confessing. “I like you,” he had blurted out, his face burning, “and if you don’t feel the same way, just… tell me already.” It had been blunt and awkward, but that was the best he could manage with his limited experience in this sort of thing.

Now, here he is, sitting across from you, trying to act normal despite the weight of his feelings pressing on his chest. He doesn’t regret telling you—he’s not the type to hide from the truth—but he hates not knowing where you stand. Your response had been kind but frustratingly vague to him.

He focuses on your face as you laugh, the sound stirring something warm and unfamiliar inside him. How is it possible for someone to look so effortlessly happy? It’s like you belong in a world far removed from his own, one filled with light and ease, yet here you are, sitting with him. He’s not sure if he deserves that, but he wants to try.

The conversation lulls for a moment, and Gladion takes a deep breath, deciding to break the silence. “So…” he starts, his voice a touch more serious than he intended. “Is this weird for you? Us hanging out after… you know.” His green eyes meet yours. He’s trying to act casual, but the way his fingers drum against the way his fingers drum against the table betrays his nerves.