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When Phoebe walked through the doors of the League, the first sound she heard was giggling.
She stopped dead, stilling every muscle in her body. She stood at the intersection between two hallways, a closed door to her right, and an ajar one to her left. It was not yet 7 a.m.—the sky outside was pale, casting early light within the corridor.
Phoebe shivered, wrapping her arms around her frame. She had woken early, roused from bittersweet dreams of her childhood home. It had been years since she’d travelled away from Paldea—she was only a teenager, a child, really, ambitious and hot-headed—but homesickness still affected her from time to time. There was no use sitting alone with her thoughts, so she’d decided to get an early start, not expecting any company. Perhaps the sound really just was her imagination, playing tricks—
Then she heard it again. Light, ephemeral laughter, soft but unmistakable, coming from the closed door to her right. Her first thought was that one of the ghosts from her room had wandered out again. But then, didn’t that laughter sound so familiar? She just couldn’t place it…
Approaching the door, she shook off a brief moment of uncertainty, then knocked once, twice. “Is anyone there?” she asked.
No response. She shrugged and pushed the door open.
The first thing she saw was—Wallace, Water-type gym leader, within the League building—teal hair, sweater slipping off one shoulder to reveal a tank-top strap, then Steven Stone, the Champion, one of his arms hooked around Wallace’s neck, back to the wall, and—oh. oh.
She all but slammed the door shut, mortified. “I am so sorry,” she said, in sync with Steven’s “Sorry!” and some other exclamation from Wallace, buried beneath a stream of nervous giggles. Putting a hand to her mouth revealed that her cheeks were flushed warm with embarrassment, her mind occupied with a stream of did I just walk in on Steven making out with Wallace on a Monday morning? and oh. I guess they’re a thing now.
A moment later the door was opened by Wallace, a very flushed Steven in tow, who was already apologizing. “Phoebe, this is just—completely unprofessional from me, and I couldn’t say it enough, really—” which was, of course, the moment Wallace chose to burst into laughter again, wrapping both arms around Steven’s form, who buried his head in their chest to hide his growing blush.
The whole thing was just so ridiculous that Phoebe couldn’t help but laugh along. “Steven. Really. It’s fine,” she said, watching him turn to her—hair tousled, eyes alight, a slight giggle escaping his lips.
It hit her then, all at once. She had known Steven for three years, ever since he became Champion at just nineteen, seen him encase himself with the formality and valor required of his new position—seen him hide his awkwardness and bury the remainder of his childhood, painfully reminiscent of one of her little brothers back home. She had seen him grow to be capable of leading trainers twice or three times his age, seen him teach himself to bear the burden of an entire nation.
She had known Steven for three years, yet this is the first time she had seen him this candid, this unreserved. Yet she is only now growing familiar with the sound of his laughter.
Any remaining embarrassment faded away into a glowing warmth. “You look happy,” she said.
“Huh?” Steven smiled, a sheepish little grin, and Phoebe distantly wondered if it was embarrassing that she would probably kill a man if it meant she could see him smile more. “I guess I am.”
“Come here.”
She barely heard Steven’s confused “Huh? Wha—” before she pulled him into a crushing bear hug. “I am so proud of you,” she said, squeezing him somehow tighter, willing all of the glowing warmth she felt into her arms. That was, until she heard a muffled “I can’t breathe” and released him, laughing all the while.
Once Steven was situated back by Wallace’s side, suit albeit a little more wrinkled, she spoke. “Congratulations!”
Wallace tried to reply amicably, “Thank you—” before she turned to them and fixed them with her best death glare. “And you. If you break Steven’s heart I will kill you,” she all but hissed.
Wallace held up their hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “I would never. I have the love of my life here by my side, Phoebe. I would be a fool to do anything to ruin that.” To emphasize their point, Wallace leaned over and pecked Steven on the forehead. And yes, Steven’s giggle melted her heart all over again.
“You two are so embarrassing,” she muttered.
“Expect a lot more!” Wallace returned, cheerfully.
“No—” Steven put his head in his hands. “That was a deeply humiliating experience and I hope it never happens again.”
“Speaking of,” Phoebe said, “I know I kinda found out by accident, but… are you going to tell them? The rest of the League, I mean?”
From the way Steven bit his lip, she could tell that this wasn’t a new question. “Well,” Steven started. “I think this is a relatively new development, so…”
Wallace draped his arms over Steven’s shoulders from behind, forearms stretching out, reminding her strangely of a cat stretching in the sun. The way Steven allowed their easy intimacy, in stark contrast to his usual refined formality—she thought it might take a while for her to grow used to it, but she was glad to see it nevertheless. “Is it?” said Wallace.
“Hmmm. Since last spring? A few months, then.” Steven turned to face her. “I don’t know how—I mean, I can’t imagine Sidney having a problem with it, but it’s Glacia and Drake I’m worried about. All things considered, you don’t seem that surprised.”
She shrugged. “You’ve seemed better lately.” And it was true. She’d never been able to put a finger on it, but Steven had been less subdued, carrying an air of quiet contentment since that spring. She couldn’t help but smile to herself again. “It might cause a splash in the press, but if you’re not ready to be public yet, your secret will be safe with us. Yes, even Drake. If he says anything unflattering I will personally correct him.”
Steven laughed. “Thanks, Phoebe.” He untangled himself from Wallace’s arms—and, seeing their expression of mock betrayal, pressed a chaste kiss to their fingers. Looking back at her, slightly flushed now, he continued, “I appreciate it.”
“Well,” Wallace said, crossing his arms and pouting, “Since my loving boyfriend so insists…”
“And because it’s time you head to your Gym,” Steven corrected, glaring playfully.
“I shall now be departing. I bid farewell to you, fair maiden,” Wallace declaimed with a slight bow to Phoebe, “And to thee, my Romeo.” A quick kiss on the cheek for Steven, and then they were gone.
Phoebe watched as Steven brought a hand up half-consciously to the spot where Wallace’s lips were, face flushing, looking every bit like a lovesick schoolboy. “Well,” he said at last, “I suppose I better be headed off as well.”
He was halfway to the doorway when she spoke. “Hey, Steven?”
He turned. “Yeah?”
“I’m just glad to see you’re happy.” She smiled. “That’s all.”
“Thanks.” He tugged at his hair abashedly. “You too, Phoebe.”
And with that, he turned the corner and disappeared.
You too, Phoebe. “Huh,” she said aloud, then broke into a smile. After all, she would always be proud of Steven Stone, resident Champion and her little brother.