A/N: This is either sad or wrong, depending on how you look at it.
It won't be everyone's cup of tea, but I wrote it anyways.
I felt like writing something strangely heartbreaking.
Proceed with an open mind.
Enjoy!

Unrequited
Oneshot

She has long, dark brown curly hair and shiny brown eyes to match.

Such beautiful pink lips and curvy hips.

Her skin is soft and beige, like me. I've been told that she's just as cute as me, too. I don't think I'm that cute, though, despite how many fans I have. She's the absolute cutest. Nothing even comes close to her.

People come in all different shapes and sizes. Hers is gorgeous - the perfect balance of beauty. Even though there are other people in this world with similar body types, I think she's one of a kind. The only one of her kind.

Rare.

That's another thing we have in common. I'm a rare species of my own. Many covet my kind. But her rareness exceeds mine. She's legendary. That's how tremendous her rarity is. She's unique and special. Just thinking about that alone makes me want to make her mine.

But we already belong together. Yet, it's in a much different way than what you're probably interpreting. I wish her and I could be even closer.

Right now, as well as many other times in my life, I just can't keep my eyes off of her.

She slips into her clothes and notices me staring, and she giggles a bit.

I love her smile as much as I love her laugh. Her happiness is contagious and warm, like bright stars shining during the most depressing of times. I want to do that for her. Shine on her during her darkest hours, like a beacon in the night.

Her heart is pure and wonderful, with an exemplary soul to match. She's smart, polite, selfless, and caring. She has good morals and an accepting nature. But would she accept my feelings for her? I often wonder about that. It would be great if she did because she's absolutely perfect, right down to her core.

Yet, she can't see that.

The world has been nothing but cruel to her, belittling her and ripping her apart without care or remorse. Double-edged swords make up the fingers of the hands of life. It never shows mercy and it destroys us all. It's taken its toll on her.

She doesn't realize how great she is.

I tell her all the time, but she doesn't understand me.

If she could take a look through my eyes, she'd see how beautiful she is, and how much happiness she bestows upon me just by being herself. Just by living.

She needs to be acknowledged.

Her personality is a rare breed, but she's also talented. Her drawing and writing skills are creative and lovely. I frequently look at her illustrations splattered all over our apartment. Every piece is a representation of her raw feelings and emotions. They reflect how she feels and what she's been through. I feel like I truly enter her mind whenever I witness her artwork and novels, and they're all incredible. There's no end to how deep and meaningful they are.

Most admire her artistic genius and imaginative stories, but when it comes down to the source of it all, they just laugh at her. I don't see anything wrong with her inspiration. It sickens me to see her own family tell her that she needs to grow up and pursue something real. What isn't real about her passions? Her fuel is what saved her. She wouldn't be alive otherwise. Yet, they turn a blind eye to it and call it childish and unattractive. I will never understand their logic. She deserves a lot more credit and respect than what she's given.

But she's so humble and shy – very withdrawn and afraid of the world around her. She's still learning how to stand up for herself. Her never-ending tolerance and patience astounds me. She's so in tune with emotions, that she's able to understand others, even if they wronged her. That's something I'll probably never figure out.

What I do know is the true her.

She's not exactly soft-spoken, but not outgoing or confident, either. Not in the slightest. Her submissiveness makes me want to stand strong and be her umbrella in the rain, hovering over her and protecting her from all harm.

Around her friends, she's upbeat and fun, but deep down, she thinks she's worth less than the dirt under her shoes. I know because she tells me. She tells me everything. I know her innermost thoughts, and yet, I can't reassure her with words. My voice can't reach her. Being reminded of that nearly cripples me sometimes.

I want to tell her that she's worth more than the whole world.

She is the world... My world, anyways.

Despite what she thinks of herself, she's always willing to help, even when she can't do anything. That's one of her many cute factors, but it also worries me, for people tend to take advantage of such a good personality trait. And that, they have.

She's a victim of many different things – some things I could never relate to.

Many have mistreated her and bullied her, even people she had least expected. For years, they would try to break her every day in unspeakable ways. She wouldn't show them how shattered she was, but when she was alone, all she could do was cry and beg herself to live another day, because maybe, just maybe, that day would somehow be better. How she managed to survive is beyond me.

And that's not even half of it. Everyone wants her to change, too, even though she's good just the way she is. That's something I do understand. I know that feeling better than anyone.

People say good things about my kind. They pursue us, lure us in, and try to woo us. But once we're in their grip, all they want to do is change us.

But she didn't. She loves me just the way I am. If I ever do change, it'll be my decision and she'll still love me, all the same. It's a fact and it makes me love her even more.

She's such a great person. A wonderful human being, to the point where it's actually hard to believe that she's the same species of a race that's so cruel.

I dare say she's an angel.

An angel with wings that cast off the only remaining goodness in this world.

To this day, she doesn't think she's wanted or beautiful. She's always afraid of annoying people or being exiled again.

It makes me want to stay with her for the rest of our days.

I understand her fears.

When we don't want to change, we're abandoned.

We're pressured. We're spat on. We're abused.

The feeling of loneliness, emptiness, helplessness; being the outcast, the black sheep, the lone wolf, the freak – I know it all too well. But I don't feel sad about it. I'm just informed on how horrible the world really is. I only feel sad whenever that happens to her because I can see things about her and within her that people refuse to see or cannot see.

I get angry at the world and I want to change it for her. But some things can't be changed. Knowing that, I want to shield her from the wrongs of human nature – to be her shelter, and her safe place.

I want to show her how much I love her. Every day, I look for new ways to prove myself. With all my might, I just want her to know that somebody in this hell does love her.

I'm in love with her.

I value her more than my own life.

I can get bashed and beaten until I faint, over and over again, but whenever she's threatened or hurt in any kind of way, that's when my true power appears. It can be scary, realizing just how much devotion I have. I can go on fighting for her, even if my legs are broken. She's the source of my courage and strength. She will always be the most important. My number one priority.

I want to guard her and keep her indoors. The outside world can kill a fragile flower like her. I need to prevent that from happening.

But I'm small and not as strong as others. They're all bigger and better, more suited to her. I want to take care of her, but I always find myself being taken care of by her instead. I want to hold her, yet she's the one always holding me and healing me whenever I'm hurt.

She makes me feel safe. I want to do the same for her.

I would do anything for her, as long as it eases her aches and pains, and puts that gorgeous smile on her face.

But I'm selfish. I want to be the one to make her happy – the only one to make her feel satisfied, accepted and adored.

I can give that to her if only I had the chance. I'd give her everything and anything she wants.

But I'm at a disadvantage.

At first, I thought maybe it was because I didn't stand out much. There are many others like me – hundreds – and we all tend to look almost identical. I know she loves me, but looking at all the circumstances, I thought maybe I was nothing special, even if I was shiny.

But that wasn't the case.

Then I thought it was because of our height difference. She's taller than me and from what I've heard amongst chattering girls and various people… a short male isn't very attractive.

I believe that can be conquered. However, I figured out the real problem.

It's not because of my size or my kind's abundance.

It isn't even because of our strange language barrier.

It's because my love will forever be unrequited. My friends say I'm insane for loving her because she'll never love me back. They say even if my feelings were mutual, it would be a wrong kind of love.

Our love would be wrong. Frowned upon. Shunned.

I'm still trying to accept that my love with never reach her. I don't want to give her another reason to be picked on or to feel self-conscious, but another part of me wants her all to myself so badly that I can almost taste it.

We live together and spend every second together. I feel her warmth and heartbeat every night as we fall asleep. I feel her soft skin and pretty hair. I cuddle with her when she's happy or sad, holding her in my arms to the best of my ability. I kiss her face when she cries and rest my hand over hers when she's upset. We cook meals together and eat at our table every day. We even bathe together and clean our house and go grocery shopping every weekend. We've been through thick and thin, growing up mentally and physically, and learning many life lessons along the way of our journey. I can't imagine my life without her. I long to be her mate and make her the happiest woman alive, but I just can't…

I have to keep telling myself that it's for the best, and that our love would be wrong, but why? Why would it be wrong? We love each other already, don't we? Why do we have to stay in this limbo between love and eternal romantic partners? The unanswered questions shake the foundations of my sanity. But nothing will change, because…

"Eevee, are you ready to go?"

Humans and Pokémon don't belong together in that way.

I have no choice but to continue admiring this angel from afar, even though I'm the nearest of everyone she knows. Even now, she approaches me and embraces me. I feel her heart against my chest, but she can't feel mine breaking.

She kisses my forehead with tears in her eyes. Battling the outside world every day is dangerous. But she knows she can always come home to me. She trusts me. I'm the only one who's been loyal to her all this time.

I'm always with her. By her side, on her shoulder, in her arms or on the battlefield. Everywhere.

... And that's enough, isn't it?

My vision blurs as the salt stings my eyes.

We'll be together forever, and that means I'll always be able to protect her, just like I wanted.

I guess that's all I could ever ask for.

-The end.