Chapter Text
~Three Years Ago~
A cigarette rested lazily between black stained lips, light teal eyes watching the smoke trail up in the air. Piers took a deep drag, exhaling smoke from his nose as he pulled his phone out. The past two years hadn’t been his best, with him breaking things off with Jaxon and Rose giving him a hard time about Spikemuth and moving to a power spot. Running the gym, having to attend constant balls and parties, and raising Marnie had left him little to no time for his music. His last concert had been two and a half years ago when, somehow, he’d convinced Rose to let him tour in Alola.
The singer’s eyes landed on a conversation from a few days ago. He decided to reread it again for the twentieth time in the last forty-eight hours.
Yo, wassup?
‘ey... been awhile…
Piers, ya don’t just text me for nothin’. Somethin’ botherin’ ya, man?
Lots o’ things been botherin’ me these past couple o’ years…
Whatever they are, they’ve been keepin’ ya hella busy. I ain’t heard from ya very often in that amount of time.
I know… ‘m sorry…
It’s fine, I figured it’s probably the Fat Meowth’s fault… or that Fuck Boi’s.
...we got a lot o’ catchin’ up t’ d’...
Uh oh, that’d don’t sound good. Tell ya what, assuming you’re not able to come to Alola, let me book a flight to Galar.
Ya ain’t gotta d’ that… I can figure sumthin’ out…
Nah, man. I got the funds. How does a few days from now sound? You can just pick me up in Wyndon.
...ya sure?
Tch. Piers, stop that shit. Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t damn sure.
...Okay… sorry. Jus’ keep me updated on when yer flight gets in.
Will do. And Piers…
Yea…?
You can text me anytime ya want, dude. Ya know I’m here if ya need me.
I know… see ya soon Guzma.
The musician glanced at the time in the top right corner before he locked the screen on his phone, pocketing it. He finished his cigarette and flicked the butt in the nearby trash. Piers shoved his hands in the pockets of his black skinny jeans, walking towards the airport. He had about twenty minutes to kill, so he took his time, his deep fuchsia boots crunching with each step he took on the gravel path.
The singer made it to the airport in fifteen minutes, entering and waiting next to the south entrance and exit.
‘Ey, ‘m at th’ south exit. He quickly sent the text. His phone dinged with a response.
Headin’ that way now. Can’t wait to see you.
Piers felt a feeling bubbling in his gut and making its way up his chest before settling at the base of his throat. This feeling he always got when he saw Guzma, a feeling he deemed he shouldn’t have had while dating Jaxon. Now that he wasn’t-- the musician shook his head, he’d get there at some point.
Too busy worrying the hem of his black gym tank in his hands, he barely missed seeing Guzma making his way over to him. And the closer the male got, the faster he seemed to be moving. That is until they were about five feet apart and both of the singers broke out into a sprint toward each other. The Team Skull leader dropped whatever luggage handles he hand in his hands and wrapped his arms around Piers, pulling him into a tight hug, the Dark-type gym leader clinging desperately to the embrace.
After a moment, the rapper pushed the rockstar back by his shoulder gently. “Fuck…” His hands moved from the shorter male’s shoulder and gently gripped his shoulder-length hair. “The fuck did I miss?! You cut your hair?!” His hands moved to cup Piers’s face. “Fuck man, you should have called me sooner! Whose ass do I need to kick?!”
The rockstar reached up and grabbed the rapper’s hands, shaking his head. “Not ‘ere… ‘ll tell ya ‘bout it when we’re back at m’ flat.” He let go of Guzma’s hands and helped take some of his luggage. The two of them exited the Airport and caught a Corvitaxi. While sitting in the cabin, the Team Skull leader crossed his arms over his chest.
“I know ya said we aren’t gonna talk about what happened until we’re safe at your place but… like, is this shit why you’ve been kinda distant, yo?” He asked.
Piers was silent for a long moment before nodding softly. “At least… partly anyways…” He sighed, lighting a cigarette. “‘ll tell ya more ‘bout it when we get t’ m’ ‘ome… I promise.” The rockstar turned his head to look at Guzma, catching him stealing a cigarette from him. The rapper didn’t even reach for the lighter instead, leaning in and lighting it with the one sitting between Piers’s lips.
The skinnier of the two watched his friend take a deep inhale and exhale a few smoke circles. “Man, plane rides fuckin’ blow when you can’t smoke.”
Piers relaxed and smirked softly, enjoying his cigarette as he chuckled, “Tell me ’bout it.”
The rest of the ride was filled with idle chit chat about pokemon, and how their teams were doing. The rockstar sighed, leaning his head to the side, throwing away his cigarette butt, “ Guzma …” He started.
“Yo, look, I fuckin’ know , alright? We’re not Rocket, kidnapping that Yungoos should have never happened.” He took another drag. “The more this team sticks together, the more I fuckin’ wonder if this is even still the right thing.” He exhaled the smoke from his nose as he spoke, putting the cigarette out and throwing the butt away.
“I don’t bloody know what t’ tell ya. ‘ve already gotten ont’ ya ‘bout this shite once b’fore an’ I feel it doesn’t bear repeatin’ m’self.” Piers shook his head, “M’ only advice is t’ d’ what ya feel is best, yea?” He watched Guzma nod before feeling the Corvitaxi land. As they got out, he paid the driver and helped the other man grab his bags. The walk into Spikemuth and to his dingy little flat wasn’t long, and soon Piers was unlocking the door.
“Marns, ‘m ‘ome!” Piers called out, pulling his boots off at the door as well as his jacket and left the two items to the right of the door. He looked around, finding a note on the table and read it. “Ah she went out w’ a few o’ ‘er friends an’ Team Yell.” The rockstar turned to see his guest walking over with his things. “Ya can jus’ leave yer stuff next t’ the couch, ‘m sure yer tired.”
The rapper dropped his things where he was directed before flopping down on his hosts’s shitty black couch.
Piers shook his head, “Want anythin’ t’ drink?”
“If ya got any beer, that sounds good,” Guzma answered. The rockstar nodded and walked into the kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge. “So…” The rapped shifted on the couch as he watched Piers walk back into the living room, though he always wondered if the pale motherfucker knew how much he was swaying his hips.
“So?” The rockstar repeated, settling on the couch next to his guest.
“Why the fuck is your hair short?” Guzma decided to be right to the point.
Piers lifted his beer to his lips, downing half the bottle before answering.
“Jaxon an’ I broke up…”