Chapter Text
“Brassie! I can’t believe it! It really is you!”
After half an hour staring into space, those words brought Brassius back to reality.
Even if hearing Hassel’s voice meant it didn’t feel like reality.
At least it didn’t feel any less like reality than anything else. Too caught off guard to respond immediately, he simply gave a warm smile. Hassel was shaking his head, a clear plastic cup of wine in his right hand.
“What are the odds!”
“I’m just as surprised.” Brassius didn’t remember the last time he had to fight so hard to keep his voice level. “It’s good to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you, as well! I was just talking to the director, and I mentioned going to school in Paldea, and she mentioned there was actually an artist here from Paldea, and I thought ‘it couldn’t be!’ But it is!”
“What are you doing here? Isn’t Hoenn a bit too close to home for you?”
“I was getting bothered no matter where I went. There’s not too much difference between having twenty regions of buffer and two.”
Brassius was searching Hassel’s face for any sign of awkwardness, but he wasn’t finding it. How was that possible? Was he just not picking up on it?
“Anyway, I met Wattson, have you met Wattson? Very entertaining man. I met him when I was living in Unova. He liked my work, so he commissioned me for some pieces for TV Mauville.”
In school, over ten years ago, Brassius was, for lack of a better phrase, emotionally unstable. He still was, in a different way, but nobody looking on at their conversation would be able to pick that up from how Hassel was talking to him.
“The museum is having me compose for an immersive exhibition. It’s very promising. It’s themed around what northeastern Hoenn looked like before recorded history, comparing works from both paleoartists and more imaginative, fantastical pieces…”
They probably wouldn’t have picked up that the last time they saw each other, Brassius very dramatically confessed his love for Hassel, who turned him down on account that he would be studying in Galar for a while and didn’t think a long distance relationship would be good for Brassius.
“I’m not sure if this is a rude observation, but you’re a lot quieter than I remember.”
“Oh. I’m not, just ask anyone in the museum.” Brassius noticed his smile had dropped, so he forced it back. “I’ve been staying up working.”
“Work you enjoy, I hope!”
“Of course!” he lied.
“You still need to get your rest, but you always struggled with that. Where are you staying?”
“A short-term rental.”
The only place he was renting was his studio, where he slept on an uncomfortable, fashionable sofa, a few tarps on his projects and supplies being the only thing protecting him from the fumes, but Hassel didn’t need to know that.
“I still can’t believe I’ve run into you here , of all places. Don’t tell me you have work in this museum?”
Brassius nodded.
“I didn’t see your name anywhere. Is your name on it?”
Brassius shook his head.
“I’ll see if I can tell where it is! I’ll be back in ten minutes. Do you want a cup of wine?”
“Please.”
Brassius tried not to panic as Hassel weaved through the crowd and started staring at the walls, then disappearing down the stairs.
What was going on? Was this really happening?
Did Hassel really think so little had changed that he could tell which pieces were Brassius’s? He was terrified that he would be able to tell. He was ashamed of them.
His heart barely stopped sinking when Hassel came up the other stairwell with wine in both hands and a broad grin on his face.
“I think I found it!”
He handed Brassius the wine. Brassius overcompensated while steadying his shaking hands, grabbing it stiffly and yanking it toward his chest.
Hassel didn’t seem to notice. “It’s the painting on the second floor, right? With the frolicking grass Pokemon? That’s so you, Brassie!”
He was right, but Brassius had forgotten he’d painted that one at all.
“You really did find it!”
Hassel looked at him for a few moments, smiling, but the smile eventually fell as he tilted his head.
Brassius froze, fearing he’d let on that actually, he had four pieces in the museum right now, and Hassel would never find the other three, two of which were prominently featured at this fundraising event, because they were completely soulless, sold-out trash.
But it didn’t take long for the fear to fade. It took much less time than it should have.
“Brassie, can I talk to you outside, or somewhere a little quieter?”
He barely managed to nod, waiting for Hassel to start moving so he could follow. Hassel seemed to expect him to decide where to go, but after it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, he gestured for Brassius to follow him upstairs to the roof.
The roof was only open for special events like this, so it wasn’t completely empty. It was much quieter. Brassius was not reassured by how distinctly he could make out a small group’s conversation from the landing. Luckily, Hassel moved toward the wall overlooking Lilycove City.
Brassius looked at the lights and the sea, not able to look at Hassel until he heard a high-pitched noise from him.
He was crying.
“I’m so sorry, Brassie. I’m so, so, sorry!”
He pressed his hands to his eyes in a futile attempt to slow the tears. Brassius instinctively grabbed his arm to try to calm him down.
“What are you—“
“You don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen! You know what I’m sorry about! I’m really sorry!”
Brassius was terrible about knowing what past event anyone was ever talking about, and a master at faking that he did. That was not true for this specific situation. He knew exactly what Hassel was talking about, he just didn’t know how to respond. It seemed like Hassel was going to have to say it.
“I stopped… I stopped writing to you… it must have felt awful…”
Despite romantically rejecting Brassius right after graduation, he promised they would still be best friends. They would keep in touch, writing letters from Paldea to Galar, and back. They could have called, but they both preferred the sentimentality of a hand-written letter.
It did work out exactly as promised for two years. Then, Hassel told Brassius he would be moving from Galar to Unova, to study at a conservatory in Castellia City. He would write from his new address when he got there.
He didn’t.
“Maybe he lost our address.” Brassius’s mother had said to console him. “And he’s always having trouble with his family. Maybe it’s something to do with that. Isn’t that right?”
Brassius’s father had shrugged. The look in his eyes wasn’t unsympathetic, but clearly said “nothing lasts forever”.
“Wheb I, When I moved, I lost all of your ledders, I lost your address… I was debastated…”
Whether or not it was appropriate, Brassius couldn’t help but smile slightly at the notion that his mother was right.
He raised his hand to Hassel’s shoulder, rubbing it slightly. He started to feel eyes on them, and surprised himself with how little he cared.
“I was so upset… it took me months to realize I could probab-y look it up on the internet, or-or get a really smart Pokemon to find you…” Hassel was fully covering his face with his forearm now. “B-but I just felt so bad that it took so long! I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore anyway!”
“…it’s okay, Hass—“
It was the first time he’d addressed him all night. He almost called him “Hassel”, but it didn’t feel right coming out of his mouth.
“It’s okay. I forgive you. It’s not like I’ve never gotten carried away in my emotions before.”
Especially because he had done so in the same situation. He’d cried about it for hours a day. He’d stayed up for countless nights wondering if Hassel only went to Unova as an excuse to break contact, if he went to Unova at all, what he’d said wrong, could he still be talking to him if he said something different? Or maybe Hassel died. No, someone from the Academy would probably know if Hassel died. Hassel definitely hated him, and it was probably because he was so emotional. How crazy was Brassius that the guy who broke down sobbing all the time thought he was too emotional?
It was only visible if you knew exactly what you were looking for, but Brassius had a burn on his hand from when he tried to burn one of Hassel’s letters in a fit of rage, only to immediately grab it back out of the fireplace. He still had them all, including the burnt one, in a box on the top of a closet somewhere.
He didn’t know exactly when he’d wrapped his arms around Hassel, or when Hassel started crying into his shoulder.
“It’s alright, Hass. It’s alright. I’m glad we’ve found each other again.”
He wasn’t sure about that.
When he’d first seen Hassel that night, he struggled to keep his emotions in check, but now that something serious had happened, he felt the blankness coming through again. Was that a problem? Wouldn’t it be worse if he was the way he used to be? Without the blankness, wouldn’t he get too attached again, and ruin everything again?
But it felt so wrong. It felt dishonest. It felt fake. Poor Hassel. Could he tell? Was he having a hard time accepting his forgiveness thinking Brassius no longer felt resentment because he no longer felt anything?
Luckily, that didn’t seem to be the case, because Hassel eventually mumbled a sincere “thank you” into his shoulder.
The relief was the strongest feeling Brassius had felt in a very long time.