Piers found sanctuary in an old familiar pub, in desperate need of something to clear his head. When he headed out to Turffield this afternoon, he had no clue what he was getting himself into.  One second, he’s giving one hell of a performance against Milo, then next was pure pandemonium.  Dynamax.  Of course, it was bloody Dynamax.  Something had happened and Pokémon were just doing it on their own.  In the midst of it all, who who else show up but Annais?

Annais… Oh, Annais… Last time Piers saw her, he turned into quite a mess.  Despite the terms he left her on weeks ago, she seemed chuffed as ever to see him.  He had to admit something about her being there brought the oddest sense of security. He couldn’t dwell on that, he had a giant Tsareena to handle.  He, Milo, and Hop might as well just been there for emotional support as her Incineroar placated it.

Though the rest of the day was spent chasing down the two pompous pricks who had forced this upon Pokémon all over Galar while practically babysitting Leon’s kid brother, spending the day by Annais’s side was no doubt exhilarating.  Piers wished this time with her could had been under better circumstances.  Still, he was grateful for the first-hand insight of what she was really about. Most everything he saw was driving him to accept that he had indeed fallen in love with her.

Annais’s passion for Pokémon shined through more than anything else.  That team of hers was a well-oiled machine.  The amount of love and dedication she had given to each one of them was apparent in battle.  Each was trained to their highest potential, able to avoid attacks and land an insane amount of critical hits.  They all looked to her with determined and trusting eyes, and she guided them to victory every time.  That girl had to be a bloody Pokémon whisperer.  Piers legitimately wondered if she and her Pokémon could read each other’s thoughts.  Stranger than that, even the most powerful of wild Pokémon looked to her in reverence. It was the damndest thing seeing a legendary submit itself to her.

Yet her confidence and power she exhibited around Pokémon was a stark contrast to how she interacted with other humans.  The energy that she had in the midst of a battle wasn’t present.  Her arms were constantly folded, making her appear distant and disinterested.  She was quiet around most, not really speaking unless spoken to and keeping her answers brief.  Even then, she hardly looked at others when talking to them.  Piers could see how some could misconstrue her as being a bit stuck-up. He knew better though.  He caught her fidgeting with her bracelets and chewing the skin off her bottom lip.  That social anxiety she mentioned having the night of the Gala was painfully obvious in her conversations with the other gym leaders.  She was better around the younger crowd- not sounding quite as blunt when she was speaking to them.  This was especially apparent when she spoke to a kid with lower self-esteem, like Hop or Allister.  Piers found it absolutely charming; she fooled him into believing she wasn’t an only child. He could never love someone who didn’t respect children.  

It initially struck him odd that he’d never noticed before, but as the day went on, he realized why.

Annais’s cheekiness seemed to be reserved only for him.  That playful banter he enjoyed with her wasn’t mere friendliness.  She didn’t talk to anyone the same way she spoke to him. She didn’t let them look into her beautiful green eyes.  Piers’s little crush was not one-sided.  He thought it backwards.  Instead of being nervous around him, she found comfort.  She allowed herself to be herself when it was only the two of them. She chatted his ear off.  She cracked jokes.  She stopped him in his tracks to point out where she lived as they were leaving the Ballonlea gym, and then proceeded to tell him all about her home region on the way to Circhester.

So, if they managed to save the day and he had the girl of his dreams wrapped around his finger, what was he so upset about?

Himself.

His own stupid trauma.

Witnessing Annais battle that feral legendary first-hand put it all into perspective for him, however warped that perspective may have been.  He really had no business fooling with the likes of her.  She was on another level.  He’d known her only a handful of weeks and had already been swept into two ‘Once in a Lifetime’ region-threatening situations that seemingly pulled her right into the middle of them.  People could go their whole lives without seeing those Pokémon of legends…  Yet Annais had captured multiple in the span of a month as casually as catching a Zigzagoon.  As sweet as she was, nothing good could come from being involved with a girl who gets drawn into such situations.  Play around with the gods long enough, and you’ll get smitten.

All Piers could dwell on was the fact that people like her attract danger.  Danger attracts death.  She already appeared to have little regard for her own life.  He couldn’t decide if she was the most valiant person he’d ever met, or the most suicidal.  She did some pretty damn risky things that were ultimately successful, but what if a time came when they weren’t?  Tragedy befalls even the greatest of legends, and he’d had enough of tragedy in his lifetime.  If he fell in love with her, he feared it’d only be a matter of time before he lost her too.  There were too many close calls today alone.  His heart was still racing when he thought about how close they had been to getting mauled.  Piers worried himself sick about Marnie as it was.  He didn’t need the added burden of stressing himself to death over the safety of another girl- a girl he knew he couldn’t protect if he tried.  He’d seen first-hand how inferior he was as a trainer. He’d be useless if she got into trouble.

On that note, what if it wasn’t her?  What if she involved him again?  And what if something happened to him because he wasn’t as capable in a battle as her? Who would be left for Marnie then? Or even worse, what if the two of them being together somehow got Marnie into the mix of these things?  Today, his sister had been spared because of Spikemuth’s location.  But who’s to say she’d be as lucky next time Annais got involved in some huge mess? As much as it hurt, he couldn’t allow himself to entertain the fantasy of being with her any longer.

Though, Piers might as well had killed Annais himself by telling her not to call him again based on the look she gave him.  The tears in her eyes as she clutched that silly old league card of his made him question everything.  He doubted he broke her heart, that’d give him far more credit than he was due.  If she did like him, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it was anything serious.  She probably just found comfort in a fellow introvert.  She’d be fine once the shock wore off.  There’d be other suitors for her.  He just hoped she’d end up with someone who would love her as much as he wanted to and wished he could love her.

Two pints down and his head wasn’t clearing at all.  In fact, each sip made Piers wonder if he should take back what he said to her.  If he did need to show up at her doorstep with an apology, he now knew approximately where to find her.  Part of his heart pointed out the irony that he had for certain lost her tonight, despite the fact that losing her was exactly what he was trying to prevent.  But his brain reasoned that losing her later on down the line would most hurt him far more than he was hurting right now.  He’d be sparing himself the painful memories and reminders, and the lifetime of nightmares that would follow.  By not allowing her to get any closer than she had already, he wouldn’t have to live with the constant, debilitating fear of having to bury another loved one.

Piers was asking the bartender for a third when the chime of the door grabbed his attention.  In walked a group of self-proclaimed “Team Yell” members.  Sighing, he rubbed his temples as they grew closer.  These guys were the last people he wanted to deal with on a day like today.

His relationship with these bumbling fucks was… complicated.  Most of them had worked under him, and now Marnie, at the gym. All of them were somehow fans of his music, despite not being fans of him as a person.  (Talk about separating art from the artist.)  He knew they thought he was the sole reason of Spikemuth’s decline. And he knew they thought that he was holding Marnie back.  They’d heed him out of respect for his sister when it came down to it, but he knew their loyalties lied elsewhere.

“Oi!  Well, look who it is!”

The group of five clustered around where Piers was seated at the bar.

“Piers, mate!”  This was accompanied by a slap on his back hard enough to knock the wind out his lungs.  “‘Eard ya had quite the day!”

“Somethin’ like that,” Piers muttered, diverting all his attention to the drink that was just placed in front of him.

“Gallivantin’ all over the region with Li’l Miss Champion, eh?”

“Lookit our own hometown hero.”

“Don’ see ‘ow you stand to be around ‘er.  Might be smokin’ hot, but that’s one cold bitch.”

Piers grit his teeth.

“A proper cunt, she is… Won’t even nod at us as we pass.”

“An’ we’re called the punks. Can you believe that?”

“Swear she comes ‘round just to fuck wif Miss Marnie.  Always just shows up an’ shows off.  Can’t ya tell ‘er to pick on someone ‘er own age next time ya have a chin-wag?”

These muppets were too dense to see the truth.  No wonder his sister had been so much tougher recently; Annais must have been sneaking into Spikemuth to help Marnie train.  Neither one of them had hinted to Piers that this had been happening.  Not that he had to know, but his concern grew.  Could he have cost his sister a friend and a positive role model?  Was it for the best if that was the case?  Annais didn’t seem like the type who would penalize Marnie for his fuckup.  She was much better than that.  Maybe if she was cold, or a bitch, or a cunt, but she wasn’t. He’d witnessed today how she treated Hop like he was her own younger brother.  More than that, she treated him as his own person, not as an extension of Leon. Piers could easily see her doing the same for Marnie, whether he liked it or not.

“Y’really don’ know the first thing about ‘er, d’ya?” he mumbled.  

The group of grunts drew closer around him.

“Wassat, Piers?”

Piers chugged the remainder of his pint before sitting it down.  His mood had dropped considerably with this revelation, and he was no longer in a state to turn the other cheek.  “I said that ya don’ know the first bloody thing about Annais.”

The men burst into laughter.

“Oi, oi…  We got a white knight over ‘ere.  Whatcha get outta defendin’ the bird?”

“I think he’s sweet on ‘er,” one said.  “Y’shoulda seen ‘ow he was up ‘er ass in Wyndon few weeks back.”

“S’all his fault she got to the championship anyway.  Probably just gave ‘er the badge cos he fancied ‘er.”

“Cost his own bloody sister the championship for some Yankee cunt.”

Piers’s fist clenched around the glass.

“Y’know, if I recall,” he started, swiveling his barstool around.  “There wasn’t a single damn trainer around the day she was here. Everyone was too busy tryin’ to make a bloody fool of my sister to do their damn jobs.  How can ya claim to support my sis if ya don’ even trust ‘er enough to let ‘er prove ‘erself fair an’ square?  If ya wanna blame someone, blame your fuckin’ selves.”

He turned back around in hopes of ordering another beer, but a hand came down on his shoulder and spun him around.

“So, she puttin’ out, mate?” he laughed, earning a few chuckles from his mates.  “Got ya really fuckin’ whipped if you’re gettin’ so riled up on account of ‘er.  Must be some cunt if ya’d throw your own family under the bus for it.”

Piers yet again tried to turn around, but that same punk wouldn’t let him.

“Oi, oi, speakin’ of family… Mummy was a yank too, wasn’t she?  That’s what all this is about?  Ya think if ya simp for the yank bitch hard enough, she’ll let ya ‘ave a go at it?”

Piers wasn’t a violent man. He didn’t go picking fights, but there were lines you couldn’t cross with him.  There were things you couldn’t say.  His family was off limits.  You couldn’t bring up his parents; last person who did ended up with a head full of stitches.  You couldn’t say things about Marnie; most people who knew her knew him well enough to know better.  He was quickly realizing that Annais was another one of those things that made his blood boil.  Somehow, this fucker managed to tick every box.

His fist moved on its own and collided with the man’s nose.  And there wasn’t a shred of remorse when Piers realized what he had done. In fact, now that he was aware, he was holding himself back from doing it again.  And again.  And again until his face was nothing but a pulp.

“Oi!” the grunt yelped. “The hell was that about?”

Everyone looked on in hushed disbelief as blood gushed out of his nose.  No one was laughing now.

“A-Ah… P-Piers! Mate!” someone said, pulling Piers back. “You’re bloody out of it.  Been a long day.  Think it’s time y’called it a night, eh?  Your sis is probably wonderin’ about ya.”

Piers bucked him off and grabbed the punk by his mohawk.  His fist was reared back again.

“If I hear another word about Annais come out of your goddamn mouth, you’ll be pickin’ all your fuckin’ teeth up off the floor.”

He yanked his head back before letting go and looking at the rest of the group.

“That goes for the lot of you,” Piers warned, raising his voice.  “That girl did not a damn thing to any of you.  Hell, if not for ‘er, that bloody cunt of a chairman could’ve wiped Galar clean off the map.  An’ today, who was the one stoppin’ all these crazy fuckin’ Dynamax bastards that were poppin’ up all over the region?  Sure as fuck wasn’t any of you wankers.  Call me a fuckin’ a simp or a chump or whatever ya want, but leave Annais out of it. She’s been nothin’ but kind to me an’ Marnie an’ everyone I’ve ever seen ‘er talk to.  I’m not gonna sit ‘ere an’ listen to a buncha fuckin’ tossers drag ‘er name through the mud.  When you’ve done ‘alf is much for Galar as that fuckin’ girl has, then ya can fuckin’ talk.  ‘Til then, shut your goddamn gobs ‘fore I shut ‘em for ya.”

Piers rose from his seat, causing everyone to stumble back.  He dug his wallet out, got enough money to cover his tab, slapped it on the counter, and stormed out the pub.  He half-expected someone to follow him out to ambush him, but those Yell knobs were too yellow to try it.  The heat in his knuckles stung from the slightest touch of the cool evening breeze, and the tears in his eyes stung as he fought them back.  Annais attracted trouble, he reminded himself.  Around or not, she got him into messes.