The sun was setting over the Alola region, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink as Guzma and the Trainer returned home. Guzma had just wrapped up a Team Skull meeting, his usual swagger still intact despite the fatigue in his eyes, while the Trainer had spent the day overseeing battles and champion duties. Despite the chaos of their careers, the two had found a rhythm: Guzma’s rebellious energy and the Trainer’s disciplined calm complemented each other perfectly. Walking through the front door, Guzma dropped his bag with a thud and smirked, “Finally… just us, huh? No crowds, no battles, just you and me.”

Inside their shared home, the air was warm and cozy, filled with the scent of dinner simmering in the kitchen. Guzma slouched onto the couch, stretching his long legs, while the Trainer joined him, letting out a soft laugh. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” the Trainer said, brushing a hand through Guzma’s hair. “We’re married, and yet… we still get to do our own thing. You with Skull, me with the League. But at the end of the day, this is ours.” Guzma grinned, a rare softness in his usually defiant eyes. “Yeah, I like that. Makes coming home feel… earned. Makes it feel right.”

As the evening deepened, the house fell quiet except for the low hum of the ceiling fan. Guzma leaned his head on the Trainer’s shoulder, a comfort rarely shared with anyone else. “You know,” he muttered, voice low and playful, “all that chaos out there… it’s nothing compared to this. Just being here, with you. Makes me wanna stick around forever.” The Trainer chuckled, resting a hand on his chest. “Then stick around,” they whispered, pulling him closer. Outside, the world was still busy and loud, but inside, for the first time since their paths had crossed, the two of them were finally alone—and it felt like everything had started anew.