Note: This fanfic uses the Japanese names for Mairin and Alain and assumes both Manon and Alan are slightly older from their anime counterparts by a couple of years.
For the longest time, Manon's never understood love.
It's not that she's not a fan of it or anything like that but, rather, it's just that she simply can't wrap her head around it. Fairy tale pictures of princes and princesses kissing never roused her enthusiasm like it did the girls in her hometown. Teenage gossip of "hot boys in sexy outfits" never caught her curiosity either. Not even her parents love-struck stories about how they met each other in a blinding typhoon could set her heart a-putter.
At best, Manon could say that maybe the concept was a bit far-fetched to her. Love at first sight, for one, was something she scoffed quite a lot at. How could one find themselves so irrevocably drawn to each other at the same time? Coincidences like that could not happen so easily, in her opinion, especially with the varying interests each person had while looking for another. Gradual love, the kind that burned slowly under the fires of infatuation, while less dreamy than that of love at first sight, also had her sighing in exasperation.
Put more simply: Manon didn't get it. She didn't get why countless movies and books and TV shows centralized around the idea of handsome princes being saved by dashing princesses. She didn't get the giddy whispers from girls no older than herself when they swooned over boys who spoke kind words. Love was something unreachable, untouchable, unthinkable. It made her feel a little different from everyone else, to not know and understand that feeling, but she figured she might one day.
Besides, the only love she knew of consisted of that towards her family. Platonic love, as it was considered, the kind of love that had her hugging everyone she knew with a smile on her face and kindness in her heart. When she met Chespie, her beloved Chespin, she'd felt that kind of love, the bond between a trainer and its Pokémon as they grew alongside one another.
She'd spent many days, weeks, months and so on thinking about love. She'd thought about the kind of boy (or girl, she wasn't quite sure yet) she'd meet and how they'd sweep her off her feet. She thought about how she, too, would feel the raging pattering of heart inside her chest, the intoxication of love in her lungs. If only she could meet the right person, if only she could find that beloved who would show her why love was such a beautiful thing.
Little Manon, with her lack of understanding, found no answers anywhere. Not a thing could convince her of love and its magnificence, not a soul could show her of its magical beauty.
Until, perhaps, she met Alan.
She's spent many years alongside Alan, pressed against his side like a second shadow. They'd grown up alongside each other – professor-to-be and assistant-to-be – as the passage of time led them region by region. There was hardly a time where she wouldn't be by him, her admiration for him unwavering as he allowed her to travel alongside him.
Alan was a kind boy, though he had his rough spots too. He was like an unrefined diamond: sorely lacking in polished manners but just beautiful enough to be a dazzling kind of person. Manon rather liked him and would be lying if she said she didn't respect him. There was something about Alan she just couldn't say out loud, something about the way he treated her as an equal and talked to her like his closest friend.
It was during a visit to her hometown that Manon wondered what her feelings were for Alan. After visiting her parents in their nice little home (and apologizing profusely to Alan for having let him see the messy state of her old room), she'd been confronted by her parents with grins on their faces.
"Manon," her mother had said with a voice a little too teasing for the girl's liking, "you brought home a boy with you, did you?"
"Yeah, and?" She helps tend to dishes left in a sink after supper is finished and Alan retires quickly to bed. It is out of responsibility that she assists with such things but it is out of necessity that she does to to avoid her parent's wheedling gazes.
"This is surprising," her father murmurs as he accepts a dish from her hands. "We never thought you'd be interested in someone else."
"He's my traveling buddy," she says, drawing up her shoulders defensively.
"You've never been a fan of traveling with us before," her mother says. And it's true: despite her parents' constant trips to places around the region, the girl has never held an interest in joining them. "What changed?"
"Alan's fun to be around."
"More fun than your own parents?"
She scrubs furiously at an invisible spot. It doesn't come out, no matter how hard Manon rubs it. "He's a really cool guy and I like him."
Manon nearly slaps her hands over her mouth in surprise when she speaks, surprised.
"Aww, is our daughter finally getting a crush on someone?" Her mother picks up a plate and begins to scrub it alongside Manon. "I never would've pegged you for the type to fall for such a handsome young man."
Manon huffs. "I'm not in love with him, if that's what you're suggesting." She says. "Besides, I'm sure Alan doesn't see me at all like that."
"He talks about you a lot," her father shakes his head in the corner of her eyes. "That's usually a sign that a boy's interested in you."
Had Alan really talked about her so much? He certainly hadn't done so when she was around. But, there had been a time when Alan and her father had wandered off to grab groceries. Had Alan talked about her then? It was the only reasonable time that she could think of that he'd be able to talk about her without her knowing.
Still, it made her uneasy to hear such things. Alan was probably talking about her so much because they were her parents. Why else would he bring her up so much if what her father said was true? And, certainly, Alan wouldn't go over the top and talk about her to the point her father considered it "a lot". Plus, even if he had, she doubted he had done so because he was "interested" in her.
"He's a fine man," her mother elbows her and its clear her teasing is not without deeper meaning. "You should ask him to come over for dinner more. We'd be happy to have him."
"Mom," she gives up on scrubbing the invisible stain and passes the plate to her father and then hops away from the sink with her head held high. "If you keep talking like this, you're only going to drive him away."
She peers at her parents faces. They exchange a look between themselves, smiling secret smiles, before they shoo her off.
"Alright, alright, we hear you," her mother says.
"Go to bed now and we can talk more in the morning."
She nods and then slips off before another word could be spoken, her heart quivering at all the implications. Alan was a kind boy, and she respected him greatly, but to consider herself in love with him was a bit like saying she was in love with Chespie: it was weird and off-putting and inconsiderable.
Still, stumbling into the hallway that leads to her bedroom, she finds herself surprised to find Alan pressed against the doorframe of their guest room. He looked awfully awake and, seeing him leaning so casually in hearing distance, made her heart patter frantically.
What if he'd heard? There was almost no way he hadn't, not when she knew that her parent's voices carried easily down the hallway. And it wasn't as if he'd just woken up either because his body wasn't drooping with the need for sleep like it usually did. Still, as he turned towards her, Manon couldn't help but freeze as his gaze caught her own.
What was she supposed to say? What could she say except: "Hey, yeah, my parents think you like me and that I like you and haha this isn't awkward at all"? Was she supposed to pretend like the conversation never happened, like Alan couldn't possibly have heard such nonsense even though she knew he had?
The boy, however, saves her from any form of embarrassing conversations when he murmurs "I need to go to the bathroom" in a quiet breath. He strides past her, stoic expression unchanging, and it is only when she hears the door shut behind her does Manon release the breath she's been holding.
Had he truly not heard what her parents had said? Or, was he pretending not to? She preferred thinking he hadn't heard, that he'd been distracted by some distant thoughts and had casually missed out on the weird implications. But…if he was pretending not to have heard…
Well, she'd be lying if she said the thought didn't hurt her at all. Alan wasn't the type to just avoid conversation like that. He was rather frank about his feelings: a trait she'd come to admire in the years she'd spent with him. If he was ignoring the topic altogether, it made her wonder a bit why he would. To spare her the embarrassment of bringing it up altogether? To hide his personal disgust at the idea? With Alan, it was hard to tell. Much like her, he didn't seem to be the romantic type, much less the type to get so invested in his own love life.
Hearing the flush of a toilet and not wanting to draw attention to any more awkward conversation, Manon dives into her room, shuts the door, and quite literally jumps under her covers. She hears Alan's footsteps follow shortly after, hears the beat of his feet on carpet floor, and finds herself curiously peeking from underneath red blankets as they stop in front of her door. Alan's shadow peers from underneath the door, hesitating under the hallway lights, before it retreats and Manon hears another closing door shortly after.
Eyes staring from underneath her blanket at the crack of light where Alan had stood, she wonders what he was thinking about, standing in front of her door like that. Was he going to rebuke her parent's statement, to reassure her that their feelings were mutually platonic? Was he going to scold her for treating her parent's suspicions in such a stubborn way? It wouldn't be far off for him to even laugh it off, to relieve her of any doubts by chuckling in that exasperated way of his.
Still…it unnerved her to think that Alan had heard and that, by extension, he might think of her differently because of such words. She liked her relationship with Alan the way it was, liked the way his face lit up when he found a new Mega Stone or how his words always encouraged her to follow her dreams. Alan was her best friend, her number one traveling buddy! She didn't want that to change, never wanted him to grow distant from her.
Still…it called into question her feelings towards him. If she had nothing to fear, than surely she shouldn't be worried over Alan's response to such silly statements? If she knew him so well, why couldn't she figure out what his obvious reaction was? Was it because she was afraid he'd grow uncomfortable around her after hearing such suggestions? Was it because her own heart churned with panic, terrified that such words broke the bond they'd made together?
She buries her head into her pillow, worry engulfing her. What was she going to say to Alan when she next saw him? She couldn't ignore him, not when they'd promised to set out tomorrow morning, but she didn't like the idea of facing uncertainty. Manon still wasn't sure whether he'd heard her parents or not, still wasn't sure that, if he had, he would treat her the same as he always had.
Faced with complications she wishes hadn't arose, she hopes for sleep.
Of course, sleep is a fanciful wish that comes only for her parents. She can hear their snores from across the house, loud and obvious through the thin walls. Manon wonders if maybe Alan can hear them too.
The thought of Alan makes her sink into her covers. She's not sure if he's awake too – he doesn't snore in his sleep (she knows: she's checked) – but if he was he'd probably be able to ignore them. Nothing got in between Alan and sleep, not even food or his Charizard. If he wanted to, he could sleep with a thousand bulldozers rattling outside the windows. Manon, however, didn't share that envious capability.
Pulling her covers from her legs she risks a glance at Chespie's Pokeball (still untouched on her nightstand alongside Bébé). She toys with the idea of snuggling with her partner before deciding otherwise. Chespie got quite restless when cooped underneath blankets and it likely wouldn't be long before she found herself pushed out of bed. Chuckling at the image, she wanders outside her room and into the kitchen.
The lights are off when she arrives and the hallway is dark in its entirety, but she knows where everything is by heart. Hand feeling plastered wall, she flicks on a light and takes a seat on a chair set by the dining room table. The clock reads 1 AM, but Manon knows better than to think time means anything in the middle of the night.
Drumming her fingers on the white table cloth, she wonders idly how to spend her time being productive. There's not much she can do without disturbing the sleep of Alan and her parents, especially not without someone else to waste the time with.
So, bored out of her mind and finding nothing better to do, she winds her way to a nearby bookshelf and picks through the assortment of books her parents had stored over the years. A several hundred titles stood out to her, but the one that caught her eye was a pink and white book that, when pulled out from its place, revealed a red Luvdisc on its cover.
How to Know Someone Loves You it reads in a curious cursive pattern. Manon peers at the back cover, reading the synopsis.
A curious guide into the affairs of those looking for the signs of love. Learn how to tell if a guy (or gal!) is interested in you and the tell-tale signals of love.
Amused by the description and finding no better entertainment, she takes the book to the dining table and begins to skim over it.
Sign 1: He talks about you a lot to other people.
Manon scowls, about ready to snap the book shut (because, seriously? The book sounded just like her father!) when she finds herself tempted by the next words.
Sign 2: He cares about you a lot.
…Alan did care for her. She knew that. It didn't mean anything in particular. Alan cared for lots of people. Like his Charizard. And Chespie. See? She wasn't the only one.
Sign 3: You're very important to him and he lets you know this.
The girl sank in her seat. Yeah, sure, Alan had told her on many occasions that she was important to him. But didn't all teachers say the same things to their students too? She didn't see how that was any different.
Sign 4: He's willing to risk his life for yours.
Alan had done some dangerous stunts to protect her before. She vividly recalled him pulling her into his arms after a blast from Rayquaza. He'd injured his shoulder to protect her, shrugging off the injury even after she'd fretted about it. But, her parents would do the same if given the chance. It didn't mean much in the end.
Sign 5: He's always willing to talk and listen when you need a shoulder to lean on.
Ugh. This book was baloney! Loads of people would do that for her if she asked. Chespie certainly would. Her parents too. Just because Alan listened to everything she said with a smile on his face didn't mean much to her.
She shuts the book before she can go on, refusing to believe its words. What idiot would find themselves blinded by such silly notions like the ones the book presented? She certainly wouldn't, not when they applied to every person she knew.
"Manon?"
The girl nearly jumps straight through the roof as Alan's voice sounds from behind her. She scrambles to shove her book into her hands, hiding it behind her back as she faces her traveling buddy.
"H-Hello, Alan," she says with a laugh that's too jittery for her liking. "What's up?"
He rubs at his eyes, yawns, and then leans against the frame of the kitchen entrance. "I thought I heard something."
"Probably me."
"Why are you up this late?" He inquires, peering at her with sleepy blue eyes.
"Oh, no reason."
He stares with narrowed eyes. "What's that you have behind you?"
She jumps. "Food."
He stares at her. "Manon," he says, too quick to catch her on a lie. His voice is almost suspicious, his gaze all too knowing.
"It's nothing you need to see."
He steps forward and she takes a step back. Her back hits the dining table and, surprised, she lets go of her book. It clatters to the floor and, before she can even pick it up, Alan says: "How to Know Someone Loves You, huh?"
Manon's heart stammers in her chest. She scrambles down to grab the book, shoving it against her chest. "Non, non! I was just bored! It looked interesting!" She doesn't look at him, doesn't want to. If he truly had heard her parents speaking and truly believed that their feelings were mutually platonic, this would easily give him the wrong idea.
"Ah," Alan says, his voice scarily devoid of any emotion. She sees him take a few steps forward, pausing in front of her. "And, is it?"
She blinks, forgoing her caution to stare up at him in confusion. His gaze is like a mask, stiff and unyielding to any emotion he may feel. "What is?"
"The book. Is it interesting?"
There's something like a sigh of relief from her lips. "You tell me," she says, glad that Alan had chosen a safe topic. "I'm still on page one."
He raises an eyebrow, holding out a hand. She eyes it but gives in quickly enough, slipping the book into his hands. Alan takes a seat next to her at the table, propping the book open in a manner that allows them both to see the words inside.
"Sign 1," Alan reads out loud, "he talks about you a lot to other people."
Manon tries to constrain a flinch. It was nearly word for word for what her father had told her. Any hopes of dissuading implications falters in her mind, mouth stumbling for a distraction.
"By this reasoning," Alan says with a twinkle in his eyes, "loads of people are in love with Diantha."
A giggle emerges from her throat. She can't help herself. It's so unexpected of him that it evaporates all her worries in an instant.
"Sign 2," Alan says, "he cares about you a lot."
She peers at him. He doesn't meet her gaze, but she can tell he knows she's paying attention.
"Are they sure they're not talking about my parents?" He says.
"Of course not," she laughs.
"Sign 3, you're very important and he lets you know this." Alan rolls his eyes. "Sounds like the professor to me."
"He does say you're important a lot," she jabs him with an arm and he hums in agreement.
"Sign 4, he's willing to risk your life for yours."
There's a bit of a pause. Manon looks at him, caught up by his sudden silence. The merry look was fading from his face, a weird kind of hesitation falling upon him instead. She moves forward, ready to question him, when he speaks again.
"Sign 5: He's always willing to talk and listen when you need a shoulder to lean on."
The girl blinks at him. He closes the book and then waves it around. "You know, this thing is kind of cheesy, Manon," he says.
She rolls her eyes. "I told you I was bored."
He taps the book on the top of her head. She swats it away and he laughs. "Alright, alright," he places the book down in front of her and then glances at her. "Do you really believe this stuff though?"
"Huh?"
"Do you believe this kind of stuff is true? The signs to tell how someone loves you or not?"
There's a sudden feeling in her chest. "I don't disbelieve it. But, personally, I'm not so sure about it."
"Not sure about what?" Ice blue eyes stare at her with interest. She can't escape them.
"I mean, love is just a concept, isn't it?" Manon ignores his look of surprise and continues on. "Everyone always talks about it and stuff but I don't really get it. I've heard many people talk about it and all but I've never understood it." She looks down at her hands on her lap. "I don't think I've ever felt what love is supposed to feel like. I don't get red cheeks or butterflies in my stomach or any of that. The only love I ever feel is towards my family. I love them but not in the way that makes me want to kiss them or anything."
Manon studies the curve of her fingertips. They're round like little crescent moons. They're painted green from a nail polish she'd applied a few days back on her travels. It's already starting to flake off, much to her disappointment.
The boy beside her shifts backwards in his seat. His clothes rustle with the movement, reminding Manon briefly of the countless bushes and trees they'd traveled past on their journeys.
"I see," he says at long last. "I guess you can say I feel the same way."
Her eyebrows lift in astonishment, and she turns to him with questions in her eyes. He stares back evenly. "It might seem a bit strange, but I'm not certain what it means to love someone, either. I get what you're saying about family – Charizard's that way to me as well as my parents also – but as for true love…it's hard to say."
Something about the soft way he speaks makes her eyes begin to droop. "True love…that's the stuff of fairy tales. Mom and dad used to say that one day I'd find myself a prince or a princess and kiss them. I don't know if I want that, though."
Manon leans against his shoulder, slumping in her chair to do so. Alan doesn't even glance at her: she's done this more times than any of them can count.
"Not into kissing?" he teases.
"Not into kissing," she affirms.
"What if a handsome boy came along?"
She scoffs. "What handsome boy?"
His head leans on top of hers, creating a kind of head sandwich that has Manon smiling. "Me."
"As if."
He makes an exasperated noise. "I'm hurt, Manon."
She nestles closer to the crook of his neck, scooting her chair to sidle closer to him. She likes the way he leans back against her, likes the way she can feel his breath playing with her hair. There's something so nice about the way he allows her into his personal space like she allows him into hers.
"Hey Alan?"
"Mm?"
"You know…I may not understand what true love means but," she closes her eyes, "I do know I want to be with you forever."
There's a pause, an intake of breath. She fears she's crossed a line, maybe gone too far with unruly implications, when Alan speaks again.
"I feel the same, Manon," he murmurs. "I feel the same."
A content sigh slips from her lips. She feels the tug of sleep on her mind and, certain she'll dream good dreams alongside Alan, she slips into slumber.
When they awake in the morning, Manon finds a bedsheet wrapped around their shoulders and her parents giggling like little children. Her mother jabs her side, smiling widely with a million implications, before Alan waves them off with: "Ah, don't over think things here. We're not dating."
And Manon can't help but grin alongside him.
AN: Reposted from my Ao3 bc I realized I forgot to transfer it over. College has been stealing my soul away atm but I so desperately want to write Marisson + Hoennchamp and many other variations of Pokemon ships.
This fanfic assumes that Manon is aro and Alan is ace-aro. It's kind of mentioned here and there between the lines but eh might as well say it out loud anyways. This probably won't be how I normally write them, too. My prompt for this (the summary of the fanfic) made me imagine both of these dorks as aromantic here but my true view is probably more that they're both ace and prefer to do cute romantic stuff like hand-holding or kisses on the cheek or always encouraging the other, etc. This was just an attempt at writing these two and getting myself acquainted more with their characters though maybe I pushed them a little too much here I feel like.