Pokemon Make Great Conversation Starters

5:30 pm is a good time to sleep too

Maxie did NOT have a nice day.

He was utterly exhausted, in part from his unhealthy amount of sleep or lack-there-of, but also in part to his awful supervisors babbling relentlessly about how much he should do anything. He’d spent more time doing coffee runs and copying papers than he had actually sitting down and coding his work like he wantes to. He did not leave Sinnoh and graduate from a prestigious school only to spend his time taking staples out of packets because the guy next to him was too lazy to do it his own damn self.

Maxie could barely register the news playing through his headphones, he was so so so tired. He should be the one running the place if anyone was gunna actually get any work done on the new pokeballs, not them. Hell, he’d probably code circles around all of them just to be an ass; just yesterday one of the guys couldn’t find the bug in his Java scripts and spent a whole hour ironing the whole thing out so then the ball didn't malfunction.

His fingers twitched.

He probably could’ve rectified the situation in a few minutes, given the chance, but instead he was relegated to meaningless tasks because they didn't trust the fact that he was 'young in the field'.

And as quickly as that train of thought started, Maxie squashed it, shaking his head as if to clear it. He - they - there was probably a good reason they kept him on hold, maybe, probably. Why would he assume that he’s any better than the rest of them? That - that was selfish. He should stop being so - so selfish. God, he was awful, wasn’t he? He was being dumb.

Maxie got off the bus, letting muscle memory carry him through the nearby bug type park on his way home as he mulled over his day. Arceus, he should be thankful that someone decided to take him on, right? He had no right to criticize them, since they were so generous to him when he just graduated.

Distantly, something started barking, and a man began to frantically shout and whistle repeatedly, sounding distressed.
Why did he always act like such a fuck up? God, he should just be happy with what he has.

The barking got closer.

In fact, did he even deserve what he had now? He could hear his father’s voice echoing in his head, saying that he should be grateful for even getting there in life, since it’s more than what he deserves. His mom always told him not to believe him, but wasn't it right?

“AUGH!” Maxie screeched disgraceful, feeling something large, strong, and furry barrel straight into the back of his knees, making him flail and directly faceplant into the hard concrete. Pain immediately shot through his nose, and dazedly sitting up, he could just about make out a blurry red blotch on the sidewalk where he’d fallen. Oh, and his glasses had gone and skittered away somewhere. Great. Wonderful.

His only consolation was that said large, strong, and furry being happened to be an incredibly friendly Growlthie, who was currently licking his sore forehead. This only hindered him as he searched around on the concrete for his lost glasses, but hey, small mercies in the form of fire types.

“...Growth! Where did you go! Growth?” The shouting from earlier grew closer, and from what he could see of the pokemon that was currently obscuring his entire field of view... yes, the tag did say Growth, 'retired police dog'. Turning his head towards the source of the sound, he saw a blurry man that looked… suspiciously like the man he’d seen last night. Ha. Ha ha, yeah right.

“Holy- Growth! What did you do? I am so sorry, are you alright-” The man seemed to stop for a second and stare, but Maxie couldn’t read his expression without his glasses because, as his mind kindly pointed out, he was blind as a Zubat. After a moment of dead silence, save for various dog sound effects from the pokemon, the man slowly approached Maxie.

“Ah… Hello. I-I’m very sorry, but could you help me find my glasses?” Maxie was still uselessly pawing at the gravel, probably getting himself dirty in the process, he didn't care much, he was gunna shower anyways.

“Glasses?” The man echoed back, rough sounding, like one of those seafaring men Maxie used to see come through his hometown.

“Ah, y-yeah, they’re like - this big, and they’re rectangular, with-” As if only just then processing what Maxie said, the man seemed to snap into action, surveying the park before zeroing in on the location of his glasses. Retrieving them dutifully, he handed them back to Maxie, who put them on and- oh, Arceus when will his soul ever be spared.

This was absolutely the same man from last night.
Usually, seeing people from a distance made their facial features blurry, and the mind filled in what it wanted to see, when in reality they didn’t look as good as one expected. However, in this case, Maxie realized he was only more gorgeous now that he was in clear view. He seemed to be lazy in his outfit of choice but chic at the same time because all athletic clothing were very much chic, he was wearing a light hoodie partially zipped up with a tight black tank top underneath, with jogging pants. His hair was windswept, probably from running, and he was panting slightly. 

Maxie still couldn’t read his expression, though, but he could see a jagged scar along the bridge of his nose to the beginning parts of his bandana. He might as well still have his glasses off; god, he was bad at reading people. Was he - upset? Confused? Why would be confused? Why was he so handsome?! Maxie cursed softly and tore his gaze away and hoped that face planting onto the sidewalk was a good coverup if asked why his face was so red.

Maxie’s nose showed no sign of stopping its trickle of blood, and he instinctively went to wipe it on his sleeve, but stopped himself just short of it once he realized that this outfit was basically his only set of work clothes.

“Sorry to bother you again, but, ah, do you have any tissues? My nose is, well, um. Yeah.” Great attempt at flirting, Maxie. A real 10 out of 10. Your friends would be absolutly proud of you. The man only blankly blinked back, and if Maxie squinted enough he could see the beginning signs of his ears turning red. Cute.

“Tissues?”
“Yeah, um. I hit the pavement pretty hard.” The man once more seemed like he was jolted out of a trance, and immediately started digging through his pockets, coming up with a few wrinkled tissues. Maxie thanked him profusely as he wiped his nose and tried to stand back up at the same time, trying to stop Growth from nosing curiously at him, and now up close he could see that the fire type was blind. The man stared for another long while, before slowly, deliberately taking out a pen and scribbling something down.

Maxie was a bit preoccupied with stopping his nose from bleeding, but he felt something get shoved into his hand, and just as soon as he’d arrived, the man had clipped a leash on Growth, turned around, and briskly walked away.

Maxie couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness. Had he fucked up yet again? Had he ended a relationship before it even had a chance to start, romantic or otherwise? That fall was pretty embarrassing, huh… god, he was stupid for even entertaining the notion that a guy like that would want to talk to a guy like- like him.

Dejectedly, he looked at what the man had thrusted into his hand. There was another crumpled ball of tissues, but on top of it, there was a small, wrinkled slip of paper. On it, in terrible, blocky handwriting, there was one word:

“Archie”

And beneath it, a phone number.

Maxie almost tripped onto the concrete.