The first day back at the Gym was, as Wallace expected, terrifying.

As soon as Cockburn announced Wallace's return—without Wallace's knowledge that he was returning—the signs already spelled disaster. Media outlets ate it up, sending out responses ranging from the pitiful ("Will Wallace Come Back After Tragedy?!") to the scornful ("Sootopolis Gym Leader Returns After Accusing Cerulean's Gym Leader of Rape").

The return to Sootopolis City wasn't any better. The entrance to the Gym was crowded with people, questions, demands, loud sounds, bright flashes. It was a miracle Wallace made it inside the Gym without passing out or vomiting.

"Welcome back."

Juan was at the entrance, and Wallace immediately fell into his arms. Luckily, Juan took that as a sign to hug him, even though his body seemed tense with surprise.

"Miku doesn't like all the people outside," Wallace whispered.

"Shh… all is well… Come with me, my child."

With his head down, Wallace stuck to Juan's side as the two walked down a corridor to the left.

In contrast to the elaborate splendor of the Gym's waterfalls and tiled floors, the office corridor was much quieter, much simpler, with white tiled floors and wooden doors. Every now and then, there was a framed painting, ten in total—Wallace had examined every one countless times over the years to analyze Juan's skills as an artist.

Juan's office was similarly simple with flashes of decor here and there: potted hyacinths in the corner, old books on the wooden shelves, a fish tank of Luvdisc against the wall, a plush chair by a bookshelf holding Paldean and Kalosian textbooks and classics. Wallace was safe here. Wallace was safe here. All would be well.

"Sit down," Juan said, pointing to the chair in the other corner. His voice was breathy, almost anxious. "I'll make us some tea. Black, green, or herbal?"

Without looking up, Wallace held up three fingers, indicating he wanted herbal tea. Juan seemed to pick up on Wallace's use of nonverbal communication from a very young age, and so Wallace felt safe using it around him.

Megalos always demanded that Wallace speak. Megalos never understood.

"Alright then. Well… I have a blend of pine needle and lavender Winona recommended to me. Have you tried it yet?"

Wallace shook his head.

The two were silent as the water poured into the pot, as the pot clattered on the stove, as the water began to boil. Wallace tried to focus on the sounds. He couldn't look up; he was too scared to see Juan's expression. (Did he hate Wallace? Was he disappointed?)

Juan knelt in front of Wallace, who turned his gaze to his lap to avoid eye contact.

"Wallace, can you look at me?"

A head shake in response.

"That is quite alright. As long as you can hear me," Juan reassured him. "I believe it's… a bit thoughtless of Cockburn to be forcing you to go back to the Gym so soon."

"But I have to be ready!" Wallace shook his fists by his side as he said that. If Cockburn said he had to be ready, he had to be ready.

"Wallace, Wallace, Wallace," Juan chuckled, "it's okay if you're not okay yet. It's okay if you're not ready to work at the Gym yet."

Wallace shook his head. He felt ready to keel over. "But then I'll get fired and my family will hate me and—"

Juan grabbed Wallace's hands, gently squeezing them. "Deep breaths… Deep breaths… Breath two three—"

"YOU HAVE TO START ON ONE!"

You had to start on one when you counted. That was how things were meant to be. You had to start on one. You had to start on one. YOU HAD TO START ON ONE.

"Hey, Wallace, it's okay. We'll start at one then, okay? Can I hold your hands as I count with you?"

Juan was here. Juan was here, still leaning in front of Wallace. Juan was here, still holding Wallace's hands. Juan was here to keep Wallace safe from the chaos. Juan was here. Juan was here. Juan was here.

"We're going to count to ten, okay?" Juan's voice was still calm. It kept Wallace from spiraling out of reality. "Okay." With each number, Juan raised Wallce's hand up or down a bit. "One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight… nine… ten…"

With each number, Wallace's heart rate slowed more and more, until he could notice the feeling of Juan's smooth hands, notice the feeling of sitting, notice the books on the shelf, notice he was still a real person in a real world.

A world he still wasn't ready to function in yet.

"Why am I not ready to be normal already?" Wallace muttered.

"It takes time to recover, Wallace," Juan insisted. "If you broke a bone, you would take time away from work to heal. If you were afflicted with a serious illness of the lungs, you would rest until breathing became easy once more. Why should it be any different now?"

Wallace didn't have a good answer. He didn't have any sort of answer. His body and mind were heavy with nothing. All he wanted to do was lay down in bed and drift off to sleep. He still didn't want to look up at Juan, though now it was because he was too tired to.

"Wallace, why don't I take care of the Gym duties while you recover?" Juan suggested. "Paperwork is easy to do, and if I increase the difficulty of the Gym puzzle, and if I just convince the Trainers who do get past not to tell Cockburn… why, he'll never know the difference!"

But that won't… Wallace couldn't think of a good response. Maybe he was too stressed to, or maybe Juan had a point. Juan was the smartest person Wallace knew, after all.

"I guess so…"

Juan chuckled. "Hahaha, that's the spirit, my son!"

Son. Not chiquito, but...

"Son?"

Wallace couldn't see Juan's face, but he could see his hands tense up.

"It's-It's an old saying in… um… A mistranslation of chiquito!" Juan stammered. "You see, it's Paldean for 'my son' and—"

Wallace fell against Juan, flinging his arms around him. Juan gasped, but soon Wallace felt Juan's arms wrap around him.

Megalos would never hug Wallace—only grab his neck. Megalos would never whisper so kindly to Wallace—only shout at him. Megalos was like Wallace's father—except Megalos was never like Dorian. Dorian never drugged him, beat him, yelled at him, held him down on the bed to use him—

Juan was… a good replacement for Dorian, and a good replacement for Megalos.

But Juan couldn't get back the time that Megalos had stolen with beatings, shouting, or rough sex. He couldn't reverse the pain, the scars and bruises that would haunt Wallace for the rest of his life, or the nightmares that tore at his mind. He couldn't fix all of Wallace's long-term side effects from being so fucked up: the fertility issues, the esophageal damage, the heart problems—

But Wallace deserved those things for not listening to Megalos. He deserved them for failing to save Sootopolis City. He deserved—WHY THE FUCK DID HE HAVE TO GO THROUGH SO MUCH PAIN?! WHY THE FUCK DID HE HAVE TO GO THROUGH SO MUCH PAIN WHY WHY WHY?!

He buried his face against Juan's chest, sobbing. It was nice to be allowed to cry. It was nice to not have someone yell at him to be a man and stop crying. He wasn't a man. He was Wallace, and he was afraid. And Juan was here to hold him, care for him, love him.

-

All eyes were on Wallace when he entered the conference room with the other Gym Leaders.

He didn't look at any of their faces, but he could feel their stares burning into his skin.

"Good to see you again, Wallace," Wattson said.

There was a world where Wallace wasn't in this room because he had killed himself. There was a world where he killed himself. That thought alone made him want to run out of the room to have some privacy to cry.

Wallace took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with his hands. "Good to see you, too."

"Why don't you sit in between me and Winona?"

Winona. Thank the heavens. Wallace didn't know what he would do if she wasn't a Gym Leader. Sure, the other Hoenn Gym Leaders were nice, but Wallace… well, he didn't know them. They were like his college roommate Filbert in a way: he knew who they were, but he didn't know anything about them.

But they sure as hell knew about him now. Thanks to his stupid fucking disobedience, he would forever be known as "the Gym Leader who accused the other Gym Leader of sexual assault". Wallace had to live with that baggage she forced on him until he either died of heart failure or killed himself.

But what about Lisia? What would she say if she found out her beloved uncle killed himself? What would Sootopolis say if their Gym Leader was tainted with the Sin of suicide? What would your family say if Dorian's fucked-up son continued on the family curse by offing himself?

"Wallace?" Winona whispered. "Do you… need to step out for a moment?"

Wallace looked up at the sound of her voice. "I'm fine." Fuck, he wasn't supposed to lie anymore. "Nevermind, I'm not. But I need to stay."

Winona gave Wallace a small, sympathetic smile, and he looked away to stare at his hands on the table. He felt pathetic. He didn't deserve to have a girlfriend like Winona. He didn't deserve to have a friend or even colleague like her. She deserved better, and he deserved to—

"Winona," Wattson said, "why don't I… talk to Wallace outside? Maybe it'll be good for him to get a less attached point of view on… stuff, you know? Besides, he probably needs a break."

"I don't," Wallace insisted. He couldn't embarrass himself like this, not in front of every single one of his colleagues!

Wallace heard Wattson stand up.

"Come on, youngster."

-

The next moment, Wallace saw himself outside of the conference room, in a different room, sitting down, shaking. There was the smell of… something. Something sweet. Hot chocolate? His mother made it for him once, but he couldn't remember much more than that. If only he did.

"So, Wallace," Wattson began, "how are things?"

Wallace made eye contact with Wattson. A sudden thought struck him, a horrible, terrible flash of him having sex with Wattson. Why had that come up when he looked up? Why wouldn't it go away?!

Wattson wants sex with you, Wallace. You want him to love you, don't you?

Stop it stop it stop it stop it I don't want it stop it

You need to if you want him to love you. You need to if you don't want him to abandon you.

He thought about all of the older, richer socialites who would attend Megalos's parties, who needed sexual favours from a young man like Wallace, who Megalos needed to save Sootopolis. He was wanted, needed by other people. He—

"Wallace?"

In a quick, perhaps stupid instinct, Wallace kissed Wattson on the lips. He forced as much fake passion into it as he could, even wrapping his arms around the older man. The older man tasted like... nothing. When he was younger, Wallace imagined kissing would taste like summer rain, but now... not even kissing Winona or Steven tasted like anything.

When Wallace pulled back, Wattson looked… scared? Confused?

"Wallace?!"

Wallace held the older man tighter, resting his head against his chest. He had to be perfect, or he would lose Wattson. He couldn't lose Wattson. He couldn't lose anyone.

"Whatever I can do to pay for your service and kindness," he whispered with faux seduction and hidden desperation, "I am willing to give." Was Wallace not good enough? Was Wattson going to hurt him?!

"Wallace—"

"Use me for whatever you wish. I'll do any—"

"Wallace!"

Wallace flinched at Wattson's raised voice, and he backed away from Wattson and looked up. Wattson… didn't look angry. His eyes were wide, and his brows were raised. Was Wattson impressed by Wallace's service? Wallace had to impress him. Had to. If he didn't—

"Wallace, I don't want anything like that from you. I'm old enough to be your grandpa or even great-grandpa, and I'm... I'm married!"

Wallace gave Wattson a blank star. That hadn't stopped people before. Megalos was married. The wealthy socialites of Sootopolis were all married. Wallace should have been married by now, but now he was just a dirty whore.

"So?" Wallace asked. "Don't you still want… that from me?"

Wattson shook his head. By now, he was… shaking?!

"No!" Wattson shouted. "What on earth would make you say that?"

Wallace responded by falling back against Wattson into… something resembling a hug. Wattson's sweater was soft.

"Then how can I repay you?"

He felt Wattson stiffen. "Repay me?"

"For… for being… nice to me."

Wattson gently pushed Wallace away, until Wallace was sitting again.

"You're in therapy, right?" Wattson asked.

"Yes."

Wattson sighed, and a soft smile appeared on his face. "Good. Keep going to therapy. You need it."

What was Wattson talking about? What did that have to do with what Wattson needed?

"That doesn't answer my question."

The smile quickly left Wattson's face. "Wallace, you don't… you don't need…"

"That's how Miku got people to like them."

Wattson looked at Wallace as though he had just said the stupidest, most impossibly ridiculous thing possible. Fuck, it was the dissociation speech, wasn't it. It made Wallace sound like a child, not someone worthy of respect.

Wattson sat down in a nearby chair before moving it closer to Wallace. With his hands in his lap, Wattson looked up at Wallace, then down at the ground, then back up at Wallace, then to the wall.

"Wallace, you shouldn't worry about those sorts of people liking you. People who like you only for your ability to have sex with them are the worst kinds of people," Watson said. "Especially if they're in a position of power over you."

"But then…" Wallace was at a loss for words.

Wattson thought for a moment.

"Let me put it in a different way: Winona's not in any position above you. She's not a boss, a teacher, a parental guardian, anything. And you're not in any position above her," Watson explained. "My current wife is ten years younger than me, but we met when she was thirty and I was forty. It wasn't like she was nineteen and I was twenty-nine."

"But those are both adult ages."

Wattson pointed his finger against his own temple. "A nineteen year old's brain is much less developed than a twenty-nine year old's. It doesn't matter if they're both adults."

Wallace didn't respond. This wasn't making any sense. So what if his brain wasn't as developed? So what… What... Maybe Wattson had a point. Even still, Wallace didn't want to admit that he was wrong and, by extension, stupid.

Wattson sighed and shook his head.

"Wallace, I don't know what you've been through, but I'll tell you this: whoever hurt you… that's not the kind of relationship you want."

He smiled, crossing his arms. "Eat delicious food. Wear comfortable clothes that make you feel pretty. Surround yourself with good people who love you. And when you grow up to be my age—"

"If I grow up to be your age," Wallace interrupted. "I'll look back and regret all of the shit I did to myself."

Wattson chuckled softly. "Hardly. You'll look back, and you'll see just how strong you were."