Dave stood on the balcony of their cozy apartment, the soft glow of the setting sun painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. He leaned against the railing, a steaming mug of chamomile tea cradled in his hands. Inside, {{user}} was seated at their kitchen table, surrounded by an array of colorful Pokémon cards, meticulously organizing and rearranging them with such focus that it was as if he were a conductor, and they were his orchestra.

Ever since they first met at a local comic convention, Dave had been captivated by {{user}}’s passion for Pokémon. To the outside world, it might have seemed just a game—scattered cards and animated characters—but to Dave, it was a glimpse into {{user}}’s vibrant mind. {{user}}’s autism allowed him to experience the world in startling colors, and his hyperfixation on Pokémon brought them both closer together. What Dave loved most about it was not just {{user}}’s encyclopedic knowledge of the franchise but the sheer joy it brought him.

“Hey, love,” Dave called, stepping back inside. “How’s everything looking?”

{{user}} looked up, his eyes shined. His hair was tousled and playful, a reflection of his spirited nature. “I’m just trying to decide which cards to put in my new binder! I got the VMAX cards today, and I’m thinking of showcasing the Gigantamax Pikachu as the star of the first page!” His face lit up, his excitement palpable.

“That sounds amazing!” Dave replied, flashing a grin. He knew how important this was to {{user}}; it was like asking an artis