Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon or any of the characters depicted in the story. Proper rights are owned by the respected owners individually.
Note: Game!verse fic. It is 1am, so I'm just going to pretend I know what I'm doing with my life. As always, any advice at all would be great since I'm kinda new to writing Pokémon and this pairing. Also, happy Easter to anyone who celebrates it!
Changing Room
by. Satari-Raine
He holds her hand as she steps up onto the platform and she smiles in return.
Her dress is long, swishing at her ankles in waves of pristine white, and she lifts up one side with her free hand to bring it back and forth, giggling as it sways with a grace Hugh finds surprising. Rosa's always been bubbly and joyful, but graceful? The same girl who always jumped up on the railings of the outlook to kick her feet, falling back on her butt most times when she leaned too far back? The same girl who took a tumble down a small cliff into a bush just because she saw some friend of hers passing by - Curtis was the name - only to laugh it off? The same girl who saved the world with determination and strength, sure, but was she really graceful?
He peeks at her from his spot on the chair, arms draped over the back as his chin lowers to press against his wrists. She notices, as always – because she's always been surprisingly perceptive - and something about that look of hers tells him that she's glad he's here, that he would do these types of things that others guys apparently wouldn't do like helping her with dresses, and he ends up scowling although he's far from annoyed.
"Hey, Hugh?" His eyes find hers, red against blue, and at least that is something familiar. "Would you mind getting the back for me?"
He nods and stands, and through the door of the dressing room he hears Rosa being called. She merely huffs and leaps from the stool to crack open her door, telling them she'll be out soon enough, her tone clearly telling Hugh this has happened more than once. Noises of bustling camera crews and an angry director with some accent Hugh can't place fill the room, and she shuts the door with a resounding click before walking over, her dress still swaying beautifully with every movement.
She takes his hand again as she steps up and turns to place the undone back of her dress to him. Momentarily, he's shocked. The dress, while undone, still curves around her body like a well-worn glove, all white curves and shimmering fabric and it's something Hugh never really counted on: Rosa growing up into a woman.
When she makes a noise of confusion, he's quick to grasp the cloth, ignoring the feeling of his knuckles brushing against the skin of her lower back. But he still feels it, and it's soft, it's really soft, and it's white, clearly unblemished from days spent under airy shirts and tank tops. Sighing, he pulls the ends close, clasping the hooks together one by one, feeling the fabric starting to tighten around her midriff as it resists his efforts. She laughs and he hums questioningly in reply; usually she's silent while he works.
"Your hands are shaking."
He's quick to hook her dress together, turning her around by gentle hands on her waist and sighing when he tugs at the sides to even the cloth out, huffing only when she smiles at him in gratitude. Her dressing room, all bright lights and soft seats and colored bottles on tables, is quiet while she looks down, twisting herself this way and that with a thoughtful frown in place, and he resists the urge to shove his hands deep in his pockets if only to give himself something to do - he won't admit they haven't stopped trembling, and why they started in the first place, he doesn't know either.
They only stop, however, when Rosa takes his hand for the last time when she steps from the platform.
"How do I look?"
And he stares, because she's surprised him again. The dress, hugging her form, still swishes when she bends over to slip on a pair of white heels, snapping the ends carefully around her ankles. Her hair tumbles down her back in long ringlets that dance just above the small of her back, and Hugh can't help it, the small and awed smile, completed with tightened brows, that chases away his frown when she looks up at him for the answer.
"You're...gonna knock 'em dead, Rosa."
She beams, and she's childish once again although her body tells him she's just not a child anymore.
He holds the door open and the director shouts something about how long it took, and Hugh only resists the urge to tell him off when Rosa spares the man a charming smile he falls victim to all too easily. When Hugh grabs his pack and closes the dressing room door, he finds the sight of her walking down the hall with some well-dressed guy taking her arm, both of them going off to some new movie shoot; Hugh hadn't paid much attention to the concept when Rosa had convinced him to help her days ago.
Her dress dances at her feet in ripples, and she smiles with elegance over her shoulder at him before the door closes, blocking that strange world of movies and stardom from his view. When he turns and heads down the corridor, he wonders when she traded her childish ways for a woman's grace.
When he finds his way back to Aspertia, to the outlook under starry skies that shimmer with obsidian and violet and pure light, across from the sight of the mountains and trees that only remind him of how small he is compared to the world, he wonders if he's changed at all from the boy she once knew as well.
Comments and critique are always welcomed.