Drew threw himself onto his Pokemon Center couch after a long, long day of training his Flygon to practice appeals. He never knew it was so difficult to conjure and then maintain in a perfectly spherical ball a 'Sandstorm' attack. Evidently, though, it was.
Sighing melodramatically, he glanced at his bedside table, which was littered with various letters from his fangirls… and some fanboys. Groaning, he pulled himself back up, his muscles aching terribly, and forced himself to shove all of the letters, some capitalized words scribbled in red, others ornately decorated Valentine letters (despite the fact that it was, indeed, very far away from Valentine. Heck, it was mid-October) into the trash bin.
When he had finally finished, there came a light tapping on his door. Frowning, he called, "Come in," expecting it to be Nurse Joy, clutching another armful of love letters to May from his various fans. However, the knocking merely continued until Drew, grumbling darkly to himself, lunged for the doorknob and swung it wide open.
To his surprise, nobody was there, though he thought he saw May's, who she was sharing with her little brother, Matt or Max or whatever he was called, room door (incidentally opposite of his own) swing shut. Perplexed, he looked downwards to see an A4 sized sheet of paper lying at his feet. Bending downwards, he picked it up, and began reading the large, bubbly handwriting of May.
TO DREW FROM MAY
Hello Drew.
This is just a little poem I wrote
To pass my time
And maybe clarify some things.
First of all
Why do you keep
Being a complete ass?
It's annoying, really.
And your hair.
Urgh. I hate it.
Why is it green? It reminds me of… grass.
Is it naturally green, or did you dye it green?
And your stupid Pokemon.
They're too bloody
Tough to beat. Make them weaker,
Grass boy.
Now I would like to inquire
As to the flicking of your hair.
Why is it that
YOU DO IT?! ARGH!! IT'S ANNOYING!!!
Oh, and why are you
A Coordinator? Isn't that, I dunno
A little GIRLY MAYBE. HAHAHHAA
YOU'RE GIRLY HAHAHAA.
And, what the heck is up with those roses?!
Do you like my Beautifly or something?!
Gosh.
You're beastalstiliscthingywhateverthatscalled.
Seriously. Those roses
Are really kinda
Drew paused for a moment to suppress a dry chuckle. The word 'hot' had been scribbled and replaced with 'annoying'. He continued reading, though.
Seriously.
Dead seriously.
Oh, and have you considered
The possibility of
…
Maybe I shouldn't ask…
And, finally,
Max told me you like me?
IS HE OUT OF HIS MIND?! AM I OUT OF MY MIND?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!
IS THIS SOME SORT OF CONSPIRACY?!
Prepare to suffer next time we meet!
And please, your little
'fake scam' there didn't work
HAH I DIDN'T FALL FOR IT HAH.
From May
PS: Isn't this the best poem you've read or what?
Drew did not know exactly what to tell May. He never thought she'd attempt poetry before, though—his heart gave a little skip with light trepidation and undeniable excitement—he was prepared to reassure her that Max was the most honest little brother one could have.
Easing the door shut behind himself, he went to his desk and began writing a poem of his own.
Author's Notes:
Well! There! A nice little Contestshippy one-shot. I hoped you liked it! It was quite fun writing it. This is mainly an attempt to draw readers to my multichaptered stories –cough NATURAL DISTURBANCES cough– Anyways, if you DID like it, please drop a review, and, read between the coughs.