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Brassius would never say no to Hassel. That’s how their friendship always went. That’s how Hassel managed to convince him to travel around Paldea together during their younger years. How Hassel convinced him to join the Pokemon League with him. How Hassel managed to pull him - got him to step back and look forward after reaching the edge of an unseeable emptiness where Brassius felt nothing more than utter hopelessness.
And now, how Brassius found himself agreeing to the beaming man over their call when said professor had asked him to assist with his next class.
Hassel had asked that Brassius go over something genuine, a story or expression of emotion that he connected with personally that, as Hassel had put it:
“Will allow the students to understand how much art can impact you.”
“Do you want me to prepare materials for the class?”
“I don’t believe that will be necessary. My goal is to have you, as Paldea’s “Verdant Virtuoso,” provide an anecdote to allow my students a more personable understanding. Be it of artistic value or something else will be up to them.”
“Is there an exact date you have in mind?”
“Just after midterms would be excellent!”
Brassius couldn’t help but feel the side of his lips perk up ever so slightly at how easy it was to please Hassel. It didn’t help that the radiant smile the golden-haired man blinded him with was more or less his weakness. A weakness turned into an idea with the Gym Leader deciding on a topic to discuss instantly.
“It would be my honor then.”
“Oh, please don’t be so formal. Besides, the honor is all mine.”
Hassel took a moment to pause, and to anyone else, one would mistake it as a closing statement. Which sometimes it would be. But there was a lingering.
So Brassius sat, not so much blankly staring at the screen, but patiently waiting for Hassel to continue.
“Do you have time to stick around after too?” Hassel asked as he turned, breaking eye contact.
Brassius knew even if Greeta herself had personally scheduled him to be at some mandatory event, no matter the date or time specified, he would reschedule for Hassel.
But he also couldn’t be obvious about this fact.
“I should be free.”
“Great! I -“
A bell rang in the background of Hassel’s side of the call, cutting him off and making them both flinch at the sound.
Brassius waved goodbye as Hassel quickly left in a flurry; apologizing for running off - but duty calls. Brassius didn’t mind anyways, he had his work to attend to. And now, the knowledge of seeing the man soon was enough to have his heart beating with a spark of motivation to make his next creation even more “avant-garde.”
And when the day came for him to visit, Brassius hated to admit he was nervous. He knew the story he planned to tell, but he had never told it to anyone before. Hassel was curious, asking if he could help in any way. But Brassius assured the man that he and the students would certainly have a new artistic perspective.
“Can’t you give me a hint? You won’t tell an embarrassing story about me?” Hassel almost brought out “Baby-Doll Eyes,” making Brassius chuckle.
“No, it will not embarrass you.”
Brassius didn’t know if that was entirely true. Honestly, the story itself could be embarrassing. Not in a shameful way, as Brassius was far past shame, but more in a vulnerable way.
And he didn’t know how heavy those feelings were until he was halfway through the true story of “Surrendering Sunflora,” and he could see some stares between him and Hassel. Not in judgment, no, but curiosity for sure. Fueled further by the openly affectionate, dumbfounded, barely held-back emotional look Hassel was giving him.
And while Brassius would usually do anything to have Hassel’s attention, restraint was starting to get away from him. His resolve was beginning to thin, consciously keeping his back turned to the other man.
It didn’t help that despite his shameless, and rather boisterous and honest nature in his personality and through art, Brassius was a complicated mess of a man. And part of that complicated mess was his profoundly deep, personal feelings toward his best friend.
He made sure to keep those specific less-than-platonic feelings under thorns and buried them lest so his heart get away from him. Or worse, losing Hassel’s company altogether.
It didn’t help that Hassel indirectly continued to nurture and pry at every defense where Brassius tried to keep his feelings at bay. It wasn’t his fault, at least Brassius couldn’t blame Hassel. It wasn’t his fault that he was patient, understanding, stubborn as all hell, and Brassius’s greatest treasure to ever know.
But, for better or for worse, Brassius couldn’t help but practically run out of the classroom as dignified as he could when Hassel admitted how touched he was by his tale. His affection seeping through with “dear Brassie,” for good measure.
By the time Brassius had managed to get to an empty classroom, his heart was racing. There was a buzzing of emotions that ran through him; be it the mortification of his words, an embarrassment in his feelings, shame in practically running out, and-or guilt in hiding.
But Hassel still had class, at least for the next 30 minutes. And they had agreed to spend time together after. Because he couldn’t, no, DIDN’T want to say no to Hassel. Brassius had to compose himself. He was too old to be feeling like he had a schoolyard crush.
Which, as it was currently, he realized it was a bit ironic - for the setting anyways.
He checked his phone once he had managed to catch his breath, finding only a few more minutes until the end of class. He walked back to the art hall and studio, standing across the door and leaning against the adjacent, opposite wall. He willed an overconfident attempt at pretending to naturally be there, busying himself with twirling the edge of his whip between his fingers.
Moments later, the bell rang, and students filed out.
“That was weird, right?” Brassius overheard one say.
“Yeah, I know he is emotional, but he cried for like 20 minutes.”
“Well, I would too if my boyfriend talked about how he saved my life.”
“I don’t think they are like that. I mean, they just seem REALLY into art. Have you ever taken on the Gym Challenge, Brassius like - I heard he flies down from a windmill!”
Brassius’s ears burned at the rumor mill, half-heartedly listening as other students mirrored the same. He didn’t care what they thought, because it wasn’t like Brassius opposed the concept anyways. But he didn’t want to cause trouble for Hassel. So before the students got out of earshot, he spoke in his ever-present booming voice.
“Whatever you may believe, I hope you believe in your own truth.”
Brassius’s voice was hard to ignore as the volume of his words projected down the entire hall. Which also seemed to be a call to Hassel as well, because he came bolting up to the door. Brassius even was taken back a bit by how suddenly the man appeared in the entryway, watching in concern but familiarity as Hassel’s eyes began tearing up again. However, the scene truly unfolded when Hassel lunged at the man and bound him into a tight hug.
“Dear Brassie!”
Brassius forgot what it was like to feel exposed. His face was starting to turn Tamato-berry red.
“Hass, please, we are in public at one of your workplaces no less!”
Brassius managed to leverage his weight to maneuver them back into the empty classroom as he diligently ignored the students' giggles, stares, and loud whispers. Thankfully, Hassel only did one class a day, dedicating the rest of his evenings to elective or open study. This schedule allowed him to fulfill his duties as a teacher and Elite Four member in a comfortable work-life balance. And it seemed from the turn of events, all the students decided to leave today. Something Brassius was thankful for, especially as he managed to close the door behind them by twisting just enough out of Hassel’s tight grip.
“Hass, as much as I find you -“
Brassius stopped talking when he came eye-to-eye with the intense look Hassel directed at him. Hassel always had a way with his eyes. A talent of being able to gaze, look, and sometimes even glance at someone or something so deeply; it was like he could look both through and into someone. It was a look Brassius admired and a marvel to see in such a focused, attention-driven stare. A look of golden-tinted decision, determination, confidence, and a truth that no one could ignore.
Brassius realized at that moment how close they were to standing together. Hassel’s hands were on his back, their faces close enough to feel each other's breath. But most of all feeling of anticipation lingered, something in the air between them waiting.
“You said “be honest with yourself,” right?”
Brassius took a second to register that Hassel was speaking to him.
“I believe so.”
“And “do whatever your heart desires.” You also said that.”
It wasn’t a question.
Brassius just nodded.
And before Brassius knew it, Hassel kissed him. Brassius couldn’t close his eyes out of surprise but mostly out of wanting to commit the moment to memory. To remember what he saw, when, how, and everything about the scene happening to him. He was so caught up in the second he almost forgot to kiss back.
But by the time he did, Hassel was also sheepishly pulling away. However, Brassius quickly followed him, pulling Hassel down by gripping the front of his jacket to meet him at the lips again.
It was the Grass-Type Gym Leader to pull back first the second time they kissed. He only pulled away slightly, with neither of them making any move to warrant the idea of wanting to be out of the other's space.
“I apologize for my…display. I hope it was not…unwelcome.”
Hassel began to step back entirely, utterly apologetic. But Brassius grabbed his wrist.
“You are never unwelcome.” He spoke seriously as he took a single, deep breath in before looking into Hassel’s eyes directly.“Do you still have an opening this evening to spend together?”
Hassel could never say no to Brassius.
Brassius would always indulge Hassel.
That’s how their relationship went.