Starstruck - Pokémon Generation III

I'm handsome, I'm rich, I have killer style, am well-mannered, respectful, respected, polite, and in most cases very modest.

I was a poster child, got into the best of universities, graduated top of my class and topped Hoenn's list of scholars and educated five years in a row.

I speak five languages, I can recite pi to the hundredth place. I'm well-cultured and very attached to my pieces. I've perfected zen garden, tea ceremony, judo, kendo, and mother-fucking origami!

So why can't I pick-up some clueless twenty something that works at a goddamn dainty flower shop.

I repeat the thought to myself, trying and obviously failing to calm myself down from my mental tangent.

I'd seen the boy once on my weekly rounds of the city, as I do to appease my father's concerns of me "not getting enough sunlight". I first saw him at his old flower booth near the Poké-Mart in Rustboro and I was fixed. He was gorgeous with large unnaturally colored eyes that shone like rubies, long slender arms that showed his minimal, yet lean muscle, and his slim torso that dove down to his slightly curved hips. Nowadays I commute to the shop just to gaze at his amazing figure.

The first day was what left my worst impression on him. I used one of my old lines from back in the day when I would pick up women on campus, something along the lines of "I'll have you know that I'm usually an exclusive deal, but for you I could loosen a few notches.", and have him set.

And then he straight up laughed at me! I specifically remember what he said to me, and I'm sure as hell he did so to spite me. He said, "I'll have to respectfully decline your offer at the moment, as I am currently occupied waffing through that ego of yours mister". Said as almost a statement, the words were playful, yet also tinted with venom towards my pre-existing confidence.

"Excuse me, but do you know who you're talking to, sir?"

"Yah, you're that Steven Stone guy, your face is on that magazine over there." He said pointing towards a display rack at the front of the Poké-Mart.

"So you know not to reject the offer of a lifetime and maybe and grant me an evening."

"Sorry, sir, but I would have to decline the offer-of-a-lifetime you speak of and ask you to leave."

I open my mouth to speak. I was about to chime in on my pride's behalf, but he stops me. He gently lays down the paper he's been holding and looks me straight in the eye, "Listen, I've known a few of you corporate types, waltzing into shops and hotels like you own the place 'cause your daddy was rich or you went to Yale or something. And frankly I don't give a rat's ass about that crap. So, you can either buys some of these beautifully cut gardenias done by yours truly or you can move along, sir."

I was shocked beyond belief at this point, so shocked in fact I didn't realize that I had bought two thousand yen worth of gardenias until I was back at the office. That boy had the nerve to talk to me that way. I was humiliated and told of by someone with less than a college education.

And yet, I was terribly infatuated with him. No one I had ever met had eased that much confidence in himself and that much zest without bragging about himself in every other sentence. I admired him for standing up to me like we grew up in the same background, he spoke to me in a way no one else had, not in admiration or faux-kindness, but something more raw, between hatred and pity is accurate. It was invigorating.

So, I end up on these non-verbal exchanges with this peaty salesman, casually buying his flowers and me supplying him with my hard-earned money trying to obtain what information I could've. I learned his name is Brendan, was roughly five-six, worked on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays even on rainy days, and always wore his cute white beanie even in blazing hot weather. He often crinkles his nose when he's had a bad day, and will often be more cheery and vocal to his other customers. My god that voice, I could honestly listen to it for hours.

I decided to step out. One day when making my rounds from the cart to the office I stop and was blunt to him. I ask him why he had rejected me so openly and so aggressively that first day. He responded.

He looks at me as if waiting for this question since day one. He takes a long pause and states, "Well, you never asked me out on a date, and I had never said yes."

"Well," I start, "would you like to accompany me-"

"Nah-ah, don't make it about you when you when you ask a guy out, make it about them. Flatter them, make them warm up to you, and then hit them with the proposal."

I stood for a moment, dissecting what he had just said for a moment and spoke, "Would you, Brendan gorgeous as you are, like to go out on a date with this pathetic sac." I tried to say with a sad smile.

He mock-considers it for a moment, "Well when you put it like that, how can I refuse."