For the Dabble contest.


Paul was jealous.
Jealous.
Him.
Like he had been robbed of something precious, something he wanted.
Like he had been kicked in the shin, in the chest.
Like it was hard to breath.

THEY had been having a battle, just the two of them, focused on each other, both of them smirking, moving in time to the beat of the battle, thinking, feeling, breathing, proving themselves to each other.

And then THE OTHER walked up, some snotty, brunette in a lab coat, calling HIM by pet names and the battle had stopped. HE stopped, broken out of the battle and ran to THE OTHER, like a puppy, like a dog. HE threw his arms around THE OTHER'S neck, grinning from ear to ear. 'I didn't know you'd be here' he cooed. 'How did you know' He sighed. 'I'm so glad to see you' He teased. Disgusting.

It made Paul sick.
'Who's your friend?' THE OTHER asked, smirking like he knew.
'Paul! Come meet Gary Oak!' HE said, waving, one arm over THE OTHER's shoulder.
No.
No he would not go meet Gary Oak.
Screw Gary Oak.
He scoffed. 'No.', recalled his Weavile and began walking away.
'Paul, come on.' HE said.
'Let him go Ashy-boy. Let's go get lunch'.

When he was out of sight, Paul punched a tree, scratching his knuckles.
Ashy-boy.
Ashy-boy.
Ashy-boy.

Being jealous sucked.