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You just went to sit up in a coffee shop, shielding yourself from cold and snow, craving a hot chocolate to warm you up, when he showed up. It wasn't the first time you ran into one another in the city. Not that it happened that often - after all, he was a busy man, and now that everything finally calmed down in Lumiose, you were having a real job.
Nonetheless, meeting with Corbeau was a regular thing, one that you were looking for. Every day you thought about it. Sometimes, you'd drop at his office, setting in his couch in the worst positions ever known to man. You'd scroll down your phone, or answer questions from your clients, or keep Mable up to date with your work. You'd chat with him during his short breaks, or with Philippe. You grew really fond of him too. You'd release your pokemons so they could play with Corbeau's. Sometimes, you'd even join. You couldn't help but coo at them. Almost all of them were huge, his Arbok towering at the same height at your alpha Scolipede, but to you they were just big babies. And seeing him react when they went to him for some extra cuddles from their beloved trainer... it was everything to you. The fondness in his gaze. His voice softening. The little words he had for every one of them.
Yeah. You were smitten, and you didn't even try to hide it. And, it appeared that he liked you, too. You weren't a complete idiot: when he brushed his hand against yours during a stroll in the city, it was deliberate on his part. He complimented you very often. When he was on longer breaks, he always asked you to come drink a coffee at Cafe Nouveau, and Philippe was never there during those times. He replaced your unruly strands of hair whenever they fell on your face, his fingers grazing on your cheek when pulling back his hand. And you were eager to do the same little things. Maybe even more, bold as you were, sometimes downright taking his hand into yours when you wanted to walk faster to your destination, hugging him when you felt particularly down, looking at him with that sweet, enamoured gaze of yours.
Lida would sometimes ask if you were a thing already, and you'd shrug. To you, your relationship blurred the lines of romantic and friendship. You were friends. In fact, if you weren't, you couldn't have fallen in love with him. Yes you never kissed, yes, you didn't talk to each other about your respective feelings. Did that mean you both didn't aknowledge each other's love? No. You both just liked taking things slow, not because you were wary, or not ready, but because it was just better this way.
But... yes, there was a but.
As asexual as you were, he managed to light up that spark in your belly that people have been talking your ears off since you were a teen. Sure, it wasn't probably as strong as someone allosexual, but it was a big new thing for you. The idea itself wasn't really scary. Maybe a bit intimidating, but you always were a curious person, the theory was intriguing to you before, and knowledge made it... less scary.
No, the problem was that you never told him that you were trans. Despite your height (you managed to be slightly smaller than him) and your beardless face, top surgery and microdosing on T to get to the result you wanted made wonders. To others, you often looked younger than your age, a common curse for transmasc like you, but you were fine with it. No one here knew that about you. You didn't feel the need to talk about it. You were a boy, sure in a slightly non-binary way, but still a boy, and that was that.
But Corbeau... You wanted to tell him. Both because that was an important part of you, and because if you went that far, he would find out anyways. And you weren't putting yourself through a coming-out in the middle of your first time. Nope. Sure, he could be ace too, and not having that same spark that he awoke in you, but still. If you didn't tell him, there were parts of your past that you would never be able to share with him.
And this. This was scary. Sure, you highly doubted Corbeau was a transphobe. But would it change how he looked at you? Would he, like a lot of person before, be compelled to start looking for the "feminine" (oh, how you hated that word) in you? Would he think that, ah, yes, it explained that despite your punkish vibe you could like pink pastel things, it explained your soft side, and yada yada, all things you already heard before. The rational part of your brain told you that he obviously wasn't a prejudiced man, and that if he liked all sides of you thinking you were cis, there wasn't any reason for him to change his behaviour. But the other part of yourself, the one that had been bullied, the one that fought for the right to exist as you were, it was too scared to listen to reason.
So. Yeah. That's where you were standing.
"You're being awfully quiet," his voice awoke you from your thoughts, a tinge of concern in it.
Looking up from your warm mug, you found his piercing gaze, and smiled softly.
"Sorry."
"No need to be. You know I don't mind."
This time, there was the ghost of a smile on his lips. It was true. Sitting together in silence, even when you were both doing different things, that was still a bonding activity for both of you.
"You're just... frowning. Something's bothering you?"
You put a hand on your cheek, closed your eyes for an instant, and sighed, missing the concern that appeared in his eyes at this very instant.
"Yeah. In a way."
"Wanna talk about it?"
You opened your eyes and looked at him again. You were... Weary. Tired. You didn't get enough sleep the last few nights. You felt the pull of that dark thing inside you that made some of your days... like a mountain to climb, without any hiking equipment. Maybe it was time you spilled it out.
"Actually... yeah. I've been meaning to for a while."
He shifted in the soft booth seat of the cafe, his eyes all serious.
"It's just..," you looked away slightly, hand still in your palm, gazing at the snow outside. "It's always something a bit... awkward to say. And hard. A bit like if I opened my belly and showed you my guts."
At those words, he placed his hand on yours. Slowly. Gently. Your eyes went back at him and you smiled a bit, moving your fingers so they interwined with him just a little.
"I'm..."
Damn, how hard it was everytime, just to find the words. They were simple, but just laying them out felt... too raw. You opted for a slightly different approach, and looked at the snow again, incapable of saying it while his eyes were in yours.
"I'm not a cis boy."
You peeked at him at the end of your sentence, nervous and shy. His expression didn't move at all. He seemed to think for a few seconds, and then... his gaze softened. His thumb brushed the back of your hand.
"Thank you for trusting me with that," he said, words slower than usual. "Do you mean you're a trans boy, or that you're not a boy?"
"Trans boy."
It came almost as a whisper. Corbeau kept stroking your hand, still watching you with his soft yellow eyes.
"If you wanna talk about it more, share your experience with me, I'll listen. If you need support or help, I'll provide."
His slow voice was so soothing, you could almost feel a nice, cozy buzzing in your head, like he was stroking your hair just by talking.
"And be assured that of course it changes nothing with how I see or feel about you. You were already a man in my eyes anyways."
You smiled at him, emotions stirring you from inside. You didn't feel like crying, but what you felt was almost overwhelming. For once, in a good way. With gentle movements, he brought your hand to his face, and kissed your knuckles, almost reverently, in a way that made your heart drown in your chest. It wasn't a kiss on the lips, but somehow, it felt even more intimate, even more romantic.
"You're perfect as you are," he whispered, breath warm against your cold hands. "I wouldn't want you in any different way."
You let out a shaky sigh, eyes closed, heart beating fast, but at the same time, feeling so cozy, cherished even. You answered in the same whispered tone.
"Me neither."
You opened your eyes and chuckled.
"I want to cuddle you so bad, now."
He grinned, a hint of his usual smugness behind it.
"Well. I'm an incredibly busy man, but you happened to catch me on my day off."
"It's called a normal Saturday," you grinned back.
Corbeau kept grinning and rose from the booth seat, and put his coat, gloves and scarf back on before extanding his hand to you. You took it with a low chuckle, and for once, you didn't argue when he paid for you both. Outside, it was still freezing, but walking close to him made you feel warmer than any clothes could. You put your head on his shoulder for a few seconds, something you so loved to do when you were both on the couch at his office.
"Wanna come to my place?" he offered. "My Budews finally hatched, thought you'd like to see them."
"How can I say no to baby pokemons?" you gasped. "And to finally see the mysterious Corbeau's cave?"
He snorted, shaking his head.
"You're the one fond of dragons. You're the one who'd live in a cave."
"Dragons are fond of treasures, and they're awfully difficult, I'll let you know."
"Difficult? You? Hmmmm. That's true."
You nudged him with your elbow.
"You should be glad that I am. I wouldn't have chosen you if I wasn't."
Looking forward, you missed the fond look he had on his face when he heard your words. He squeezed your hand, and unknowingly, you were both longing to kiss each other at that very moment.
"I am. Glad."
With his free hand, he pulled his scarf a bit higher on his face, so no one could see his stupid lovesick smile. You had no idea how you warmed him up, how you made him feel vulnerable and weak in the most positive way. He couldn't wait to have you at his home. Maybe he'd make you another sweet, warm drink. Maybe you could curl up on the couch together, in front of the fireplace, his Scolipede around the couch, your Umbreon sprawled on both of you. Maybe you'd chat about everything and nothing til the sky went dark. Maybe he would kiss you.
Yeah... Maybe he would.