That Night at the Beach
The night air is nicer than he likes to admit. Then again, he doesn't really like to admit to pleasantries of any kind. Aloof reputations to uphold and all that jazz. He can still hear the noises in the distance. Laughter and music and sweet conversations and lots and lots of alcohol. In a few years, he'd join in on that . Maybe. If his mindset towards the sweet poison had changed at all.
Celebrations and socializing in general had never been his thing. He much prefers this. The sweet whispers of the ocean. The soft safety of the sand. The lovely caress of the wind. The quiet sniffles not too far in the distance.
Wait, that's not right. He came here looking for solitude. Sniffles mean company. Upset company. And he is no mood to deal with an emotional stranger. Though to be fair, he is never in the mood to deal with emotional strangers. So he turns around, towards the solid ground opposite the ocean.
Another sniffle, this one accompanied by a small sob. He freezes in mid step. That voice sounds awfully familiar.
He changes his plans there on the spot. Tries to see someone, somewhere. No luck. The new moon obscures his vision. He sharpens his ears instead. He'd be able to make where the little noises come from, if he tries hard enough. He's still not able to see anything. Not that it matters, at this point. He'd just follow the sounds.
It takes a while - he treads slowly in the dark, after all - but he eventually makes out a lone figure, sitting in the sand. Another few steps and her silhouette becomes clear. Five more steps and he can make her out quite clearly.
"May?"
She jumps. He frowns. He hadn't been quiet in the least. And there is no one else at the beach. Just how lost had she been in her little emotional world?
"Oh … it's you. Hi Drew", she says.
He's still too far away to make out the details of her expression. Her emerald eyes are shining brightly, though. There is still no light. He swears they are illuminated from within.
Two more steps and he's right next to her. She hastily wipes her tears away. Silly … she should know better by now. Know he knew her better by now.
"What's wrong?" He sits down with her.
"Nothing."
Bullshit.
"I yawned."
More Bullshit.
"Sand got in my eye"
"May."
She gives up and falls silent. He notes, with another frown, that the ocean plays with her feet. Seems nice. So he joins her. Takes off his shoes and socks and lets the ocean play with his feet, too. The water is surprisingly warm. Guess he doesn't have to worry about her getting sick. She does always have the worst timing, somehow.
"This is the first time", she finally says.
The first time what? He can't think of too many things, outside of the first time the two of them are sitting together at the beach during new moon. He's quiet though. May is always open with her feelings, so no need to pry them out of her. Just be patient. Best just let her take the lead, let her decide the pace. He'd found it was a surefire way for her to get his feelings out of him, too. However reluctantly.
"I always had them with me, you know? To cheer me on, have my back. For every Grand Festival. Even for the Wallace Cup. And now …"
"You're lonely."
Not a question. May is the opposite of him in many ways. Where he prefers solitude, she needs company. She is so fragile when alone, so lost, so easily scared or overwhelmed. And still, she had braced the wilds of Johto all by herself. Her start had been rocky, sure, but now she's doing so well.
"They're still cheering for me, I know that. But from a distance. Through television. And this place is so big and there are so many people and I don't know anyone here and I just feel so small and so lost and I'm all alone and ..."
"May."
She freezes and he sighs. A small sigh. One that let's go of worry and fear and sinks you into defeat and resignation. That kind of sigh.
"You're not alone", he says.
"Yes I am", she sniffles.
"I'm here."
"It's different."
He stiffens. He's not sure if he wants to know why it's different. Part of him hopes she doesn't elaborate. But he's stoick and he knows so and even May, sensitive to everyone's feelings, has trouble picking up his.
"You're … special."
She mumbles that last word, so low he can barely pick it up. But he does, and he takes a sharp breath. Special is good. Right? Maybe not. What if it isn't?
A breeze blows past them and she rubs her arms. He's not surprised. May had never been one for the cold. She huddles closer to him and he puts his Jacket around her bare shoulders. It's easy. Smooth. As if they'd done it a hundred times before. In truth they had only once, but after those horrifying hours stuck in the glacier, cuddling had ceased being a problem. Forever. His priorities had been elsewhere then, but his heart still makes loopdeloops when looking back at it.
"May." She looks up at him.
He moves his free hand, the hand not supporting himself on the sand behind her back, and wipes her tears. One after another. It makes her cry even more.
"Don't cry. I'm still here, even if it's different. I'll be right by your side, the entire time, as long as you need me to."
She nods bravely, though her tears still flow. He sighs again. That same, small, defeated sigh. Wiping away her tears is useless, he decides and cups her cheek instead. She leans into it, just a little, and he rests her forehead on hers.
"See? I'm right here", he murmurs, voice low. "So please don't cry."
She looks up at him and he needs to keep himself from sucking in another sharp breath. Those bright, sapphire eyes, illuminated from within, so close, peeking up from under her eyelashes. It's … captivating.
He can't quite keep from scooching closer.
Her breath evens. Her cheeks are still wet though. Hard to tell if she stopped crying or not. He wipes her cheeks with his thumb. No new tears follow. That's good, he supposes, but also a little odd when he observes her closer. Her eyes aren't looking at his anymore. They're not quite focused either. She seems distracted. He doesn't really know if that's good or not, but he decides it's better than crying.
"Will you come watch my performances?" She asks.
"All of them."
"I'll come watch yours, too."
"You'd better."
She scootches a little closer, too and he backs his head away so she may. Must still be cold, he reasons.
"I'll want pointers."
He's not quite certain how his hand had gotten on her thigh.
"Right back at you."
He does notice though, how hers goes to his arm. She frowns.
"But … your performances are always special."
That word again.
"Is special good?"
He blinks. The question feels oddly familiar. So does the blush that creeps up on her nose when he asks it.
"Yes."
His forehead is back on hers.
"How good?"
Her blush deepens.
"... very", she breaths. "very … very good."
She tilts her head upwards. Just a little. Just enough.
She must really be cold.
Her lips are warm though. And soft. And a little salty. He wonders what they usually taste like - when she's not crying. He's always imagined cinnamon for some reason. A spicy kind of sweet. Just like her.
One quick kiss turned into two somehow. Then three. All short. All soft. Small pecks, really, not much more.
"Still lonely?" he murmurs.
She nods. Quickly. Barely. But she nods. So he leans in for another.
And another
Then the hand on his arm flies to his collar and she pulls him down. And just like that, both his hands are on the ground and his heart is in his throat. He hadn't expected that. Never … never expected that. But he happily gives in to her demands and deepens the kiss until his heart is ready to hop right out his mouth. She must've gotten tired of pecks, he supposes.
She pulls away slowly and he finds himself lingering, following. Then he opens his eyes and sees hers fixed on the ground, her blush nearly swallows her whole. Her breath is as shaky as his is ragged. He can only stare agog.
A few seconds of silence. He needs them to get his brain working again. Swallows his heart back down when does.
"Never took you to be so forward", he whispers.
"Never took you to be so hesitant", she counters.
More silence, but his hand is back on her thigh and he pulls her closer.
"I'm … a little less lonely now", she says.
"You want me to stop?"
"... no."
He chuckles. That answer was downright sheepish. He's reminded how cute the girl in his arms can be. His grip on her tightens and his nose buries itself in her bandana.
"Hey Drew?"
"Hmm?"
"Can you come cheer me up again? Y'know … next time I get lonely?"
"What about when I get lonely?"
She pulls back and stares at him with the most incredulous expression. He has to stifle a laugh.
"You get lonely?"
"Not usually", he shrugs. "Though, after tonight …"
She splutters and he knows he has the most smug expression on his face. The one that he knows infuriates her. The one he always wears because he loves infuriating her. She's infuriated now. He knows because of how she glares at him. He readies for an attack - verbal, physical, always hard to tell -
He is not prepared to be pulled down into another kiss. Hard and passionate and short and his breath is all but gone when she releases him. She is the one wearing the smug expression now. He has this sinking feeling that the tables are gonna turn in her favor a lot more often.
He stares. Again.
"We should be going to bed", she smiles - smirks - standing up. "After all, we both have our first appeal round tomorrow."
She picks up her shoes and socks and sashayes away from the beach, but stops in her tracks after only a few steps.
"Thanks", she says, her voice small but he picks it up anyways.
She's running now, from him, from this situation, from her embarrassment. But Drew stays. He lays down on the sand and the ocean continues to play with his feet. There is still no light and the night air is a lot nicer now. So nice that he can't not admit to it. He doesn't really like to admit to pleasantries of any kind, but he supposes he must admit to Mays lips one if he wants to steal any more of her kisses.
Or maybe he'd just make extra sure to catch her when she gets lonely.
Hello hello dear people of Fanfiction. Goodness how long has it been since I've written a one shot? How long has it been since I've written something in present tense? Have I ever written in present tense? I do not know. Honestly.
So where are we at? Well, the entire world is quarantined and I have a lot of time on my hands. Been using it to watch a lot of anime, do some drawing and work on my Bachelor Film (though that one not as much as I should ... oops). And of course, as you can see, do some writing. This mostly came from me wanting to do a certain writing style and after looking through all the fandoms I love, I found May and Drew to be the perfect couple for this kind of style. They were one of my very first OTP's and I am honestly horrified that it has taken me this long to write a contesthipping fic.
To anyone who wonders where the next Chapter of Limits is ... it's in the works. I'm waiting on my Beta reader to come back from the dead and have a look over it and once she gives the stamp of approval, it will be uploaded. France, where I live these days, is completely under lockdown, so you can probably expect some more stuff from me in the coming months. No promises on what though. I write what my muse tells me to write.
And with that I'm out. Hope you enjoyed and I'll see you all around.