"You've been traveling the world for the past seven years and now find yourself in the Unova region, yet the one thing that remains constant is your lack of a girlfriend. Are Pokégirls on the internet your only type?" Gabe flatly inquired.
"My type? My TYPE, I'll have you know, is a girl who loves my singing! I don't care how she acts or what she looks like, but as long as she appreciates my voice, I'm the happiest man alive!" Seb responded defiantly, his star persona becoming more pronounced since his Kalos journey.
"So you're aromantic. Got it."
"That is NOT what I said! I'll find a girl sooner or later! Just you wait! In fact, I'm sure there's one right here on this beautiful riverside route full of trainers! I'll just sing a brief melody, and any girl who doesn't run away shall be my first love!"
As soon as Sebastiano opened his mouth and produced the first few discordant syllables of a word, everyone in the area fled, and the air became turbulent as if the wind chased after them screaming, "Wait for me!" The soft grass was blown flat, burying its blades in the soil to muffle the noise. A Magikarp that had surfaced at the wrong time and caught an earful now floated dead in the stream.
But a lone female remained, attractive with her short white tube top, hourglass figure, and long, platinum blonde hair. Well, that was how she'd normally dress. She currently wore tight-fitting black yoga pants and a cropped exercise top, oblivious to the route's sudden calm as she continued with her squats. Was she a trainer like the others here? Was she doing what Gabe once said to Hamburglar all those years ago, strengthening her own body so that she and her team could develop together? Or was she just maintaining her amazing looks?
In Seb’s eyes, they weren't her main source of appeal. No, what made it love at first sight was the fact that she'd survived the hellish vocals that clawed raspily up his throat and stumbled over each other like escaping demons, which meant that she liked his singing. He didn't notice the girl's noise-cancelling earbuds.
"GABE! I think I've fallen for her!" Seb rejoiced.
"Really? I thought you'd be into some weird shit, but she's actually a normal, pretty-looking girl."
"There's just one problem..."
"What is it?"
"HOW DO I TALK TO GIRLS?!"
"I'm a Gardevoir with a penis. You think I'd know? Just think about how you feel when you look at her."
"Well..." the man mulled. "I want her chest to seize up whenever she thinks of me. I want to constantly be inside her heart. I want us to dance together on the beach as the waves lap the shore... and I want her to feel butterflies in her stomach!"
"That's... really poetic. You should walk up and tell her all that. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."
"A-alright," Seb stammered, suddenly pale as a sheet. "I-if you s-say so."
As he approached the girl with the stilted gait of a robot about to piss himself and short-circuit, the young lady diligently proceeded with her workout. When she next picked herself off the ground, she faced an awkward 17-year-old trembling before her with his mouth pursed in a wimpy wrinkle.
"U-um... hi, my name's Seb, and I've been meaning to tell you that I want to... I want to..." he wavered, unclogging his pipes and forcing the words. But they came out all wrong. "I w-want to seize your chest... and b-be inside of you.... and g-give me a lap dance... and... and... I WANT TO BUTTER YOUR STOMACH!"
The 14-year-old stood there and stared blankly for a moment. Now, she was a very intelligent, methodical, analytical girl, so she wasn't one to get flustered easily. Moreover, she was kind, generous, compassionate, and oftentimes empathetic, so she also wasn't one to be rude. But what this purple-haired creep had said to her was blatant sexual harassment.
"Ehehehe…" she laughed awkwardly, slowly backing away and turning in the opposite direction. "I need to go for a run now!"
The girl took off in her gym clothes, sprinting as far and fast away from Sebastiano as she could. But the 17-year-old bounded after her, pulling on Gabe's arm and the violet thread of destiny that whipped through the air before him, her hair's single streak blowing in the wind. He pursued her through all of Unova, battling her and asking her on dates like a rival-stalker. She fled each time, neither looking back nor slipping, save for the name that accidentally slipped from her mouth—Celeste. Seb would remember it for as long as he lived.
"My type? My TYPE, I'll have you know, is a girl who loves my singing! I don't care how she acts or what she looks like, but as long as she appreciates my voice, I'm the happiest man alive!" Seb responded defiantly, his star persona becoming more pronounced since his Kalos journey.
"So you're aromantic. Got it."
"That is NOT what I said! I'll find a girl sooner or later! Just you wait! In fact, I'm sure there's one right here on this beautiful riverside route full of trainers! I'll just sing a brief melody, and any girl who doesn't run away shall be my first love!"
As soon as Sebastiano opened his mouth and produced the first few discordant syllables of a word, everyone in the area fled, and the air became turbulent as if the wind chased after them screaming, "Wait for me!" The soft grass was blown flat, burying its blades in the soil to muffle the noise. A Magikarp that had surfaced at the wrong time and caught an earful now floated dead in the stream.
But a lone female remained, attractive with her short white tube top, hourglass figure, and long, platinum blonde hair. Well, that was how she'd normally dress. She currently wore tight-fitting black yoga pants and a cropped exercise top, oblivious to the route's sudden calm as she continued with her squats. Was she a trainer like the others here? Was she doing what Gabe once said to Hamburglar all those years ago, strengthening her own body so that she and her team could develop together? Or was she just maintaining her amazing looks?
In Seb’s eyes, they weren't her main source of appeal. No, what made it love at first sight was the fact that she'd survived the hellish vocals that clawed raspily up his throat and stumbled over each other like escaping demons, which meant that she liked his singing. He didn't notice the girl's noise-cancelling earbuds.
"GABE! I think I've fallen for her!" Seb rejoiced.
"Really? I thought you'd be into some weird shit, but she's actually a normal, pretty-looking girl."
"There's just one problem..."
"What is it?"
"HOW DO I TALK TO GIRLS?!"
"I'm a Gardevoir with a penis. You think I'd know? Just think about how you feel when you look at her."
"Well..." the man mulled. "I want her chest to seize up whenever she thinks of me. I want to constantly be inside her heart. I want us to dance together on the beach as the waves lap the shore... and I want her to feel butterflies in her stomach!"
"That's... really poetic. You should walk up and tell her all that. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."
"A-alright," Seb stammered, suddenly pale as a sheet. "I-if you s-say so."
As he approached the girl with the stilted gait of a robot about to piss himself and short-circuit, the young lady diligently proceeded with her workout. When she next picked herself off the ground, she faced an awkward 17-year-old trembling before her with his mouth pursed in a wimpy wrinkle.
"U-um... hi, my name's Seb, and I've been meaning to tell you that I want to... I want to..." he wavered, unclogging his pipes and forcing the words. But they came out all wrong. "I w-want to seize your chest... and b-be inside of you.... and g-give me a lap dance... and... and... I WANT TO BUTTER YOUR STOMACH!"
The 14-year-old stood there and stared blankly for a moment. Now, she was a very intelligent, methodical, analytical girl, so she wasn't one to get flustered easily. Moreover, she was kind, generous, compassionate, and oftentimes empathetic, so she also wasn't one to be rude. But what this purple-haired creep had said to her was blatant sexual harassment.
"Ehehehe…" she laughed awkwardly, slowly backing away and turning in the opposite direction. "I need to go for a run now!"
The girl took off in her gym clothes, sprinting as far and fast away from Sebastiano as she could. But the 17-year-old bounded after her, pulling on Gabe's arm and the violet thread of destiny that whipped through the air before him, her hair's single streak blowing in the wind. He pursued her through all of Unova, battling her and asking her on dates like a rival-stalker. She fled each time, neither looking back nor slipping, save for the name that accidentally slipped from her mouth—Celeste. Seb would remember it for as long as he lived.
