Heels clicking on the cobblestone, Alison glided through the busy street of Lilycove City, her golden locks flowing in the breeze. It was a beautiful early evening, the sun casting a warm, orange glow across the bustling street and its rooftops. Wearing a simple but stunning canary yellow chiffon two-piece top and skirt, shades, and a vintage pearl necklace, Alison weaved in and out of individuals in a desperate attempt to get to the local convenience store before it shut.

Most often then not, she was adorned head to toe in colours; strapped into bodice dresses and veiled by overtly flamboyant hats, every outing was often a dead giveaway of her career, of who she was. Normally, she would bask in it, happy to present her loved persona to those around her. Signing photos, posing into cameras. But today she had gone for something more subtle, hoping for nothing more than an unnoticed pitstop to grab some ingredients she’d forgotten for her stew.

It was ironic, really.

A hand grabbed her shoulder, causing Alison’s head to whirl in surprise.

Heart thudding in her chest, she took in the figure behind her. Crap! He’d scared the life out of her. She tried to determine if she was in danger, if this was some kind of ambush or a mugging, all the while trying to compose herself. Her eyes danced over him frantically, looking for some kind of weapon, some motive to hurt her. Nothing. She paused, taking in his countenance: handsome, fashionable, tall – wait, fashionable? A flash from one of the cameras drew her attention to the large set that had been compiled across the street, the wires sprawling out onto the pathway as various models giggled between each other and photographers cursed under their breaths.

Ah. Now she understood.

Lowering her head, her eyes looked over her shades and searched his face for familiarity. Did she know this man? She couldn’t say that a name came to mind. But from his stunned disposition, his shaken voice, his outlandish action to gain her attention, there was no denying he knew who she was.

She prayed it was for the right reasons.

”I’m sorry,” she laughed, her uncertainty masked easily with a heart-stopping smile as she pushed her glasses on top of her head, “You gave me quite a start just then. I'm Alison Everly .” She paused with effect. “Wrong person? Or… is that who you were hoping for?”

She already knew the answer.

sevastian beau

☉

It had been a while since Alison had seen someone so starstruck. So nervous to be around someone. Even longer since it had been someone meeting her.

As he spoke, flustered and stuttering, Alison felt a bout of anxiety rise in her chest. On one hand, she wanted to retreat, feeling unfamiliar in this once familiar territory. But in the other, she wanted nothing more than to bask in it. To be reminded of who she really was. Of everything she had achieved. To be celebrated again.

With a subtle breath, she allowed herself the latter.

“Please don’t apologise, it’s okay, you’re good” She reassured him, keeping direct eye contact – listening, “I’ve been in your position myself a few times. It’s scary as hell.”

She held out her hand as he offered it, well-polished and soft.

“It’s lovely to meet you Sevastian,” she said, polite and genuine, “One of the biggest? That means a lot for you to say, wow.

"Sometimes I forget my career can be more than just a spectacle to watch on the sidelines. I never realised it could inspire as much as entertain.”

Her eyes trailed over to the bustle of the photoshoot, the staff with headphones around their neck scrunching their eyebrows in confusion at Sevastian’s sudden departure, hands by the mouths to try and get him to hear them. Her lips lifted into a small smile, envious.

Envious?

“Seems that inspiration really got you somewhere. Quite popular, aren’t you?” she mused, “Big shoot today?”

sevastian beau

☉

“Oh?” Alison’s eyebrows raised at his offer. Her entire outing into the city had been in search of ingredients for her dinner, one she would later take cross-legged on the floor of her apartment. Alone. And with the time she was taking talking to Sevastian, she had a feeling the store would be shut before she even reached it. Meaning a cross-legged meal, alone, with a serving of – nothing.

His offer meant not only food, but company. Conversation.

She was happy to accept.

“You’re very sweet. That sounds lovely. Thank you. A reservation somewhere would be wonderful!” Her smile was picturesque, perfected to the point of almost looking natural. Almost. “Any preferences on where? I won’t deny that I’m peckish.

Her attention floated back over to the set, to the people who stood impatiently waiting for his return. Alison could remember times like that for herself, too. Of being doted upon. Watching as people flitted around her, redoing her makeup, polishing out her outfits, standing at her beckoning call while she simply sat and looked pretty. She missed the lights that used to shine upon her before they had abruptly darkened. Before her life had been ripped from her.

Her gaze momentarily flickered back to Sevastian, her supposed protégé, who had caught what had been thrown from her hands. And caught it well. Biting her lip, her bitter curiosity got the best of her.

“Do you want to meet up later or… Would you like me to wait here and watch?” Even though posed as a question, her fixed stare on the set gave away her desire.

sevastian beau

☉

She hadn’t had the luxury of trying this restaurant he was referencing since being in Hoenn, but Paldean food was one she had become particularly fond of from her travels. Seeing how keen Sevastian was to take her, she was excited to try it, and more interested to see how it differed from the authentic cuisine.

She smiled as his words trailed off from the interruption.

“That sound’s perfect," she reassured him.

As her somewhat obvious tactic of getting to stay was noticed, her smile deepened into a cheeky smirk. 

“Well, if you insist. I’ll try not to be too picky.” She was half-joking.

Alison watched from the sidelines by the crew as he rejoined his peers, quickly getting into position. Her eyes ran over the models as her brows furrowed with focus, settling on Sevastian after a prolonged stare at one of the girl’s haircuts. Even if she wanted to be nit-picky – which in a way, she did – it felt impossible. He was a natural. Every movement was fluid, every expression perfect, every pose practised. She folded her arms with mild frustration, a pang of jealousy radiating across her chest. Somehow, she kept her expression controlled.

When he finished, the crew beginning to disassemble the set, she clapped her hands slowly as he walked back towards her.

“Well done. Ugh, look at you! It’s ridiculous how easy you make it look. Can I get your autograph now before you make headlines next year?” her jest is sweet, friendly, despite her own inner conflict.

“I am,” she responds, restyling her fringe with a quick brush of her hand. “Please, lead the way. I'm absolutely famished.”

sevastian beau

☉

The pampering Sevastian showed her would have made any girl question whether this was simply a sporadic dinner or something more – like a date. Alison knew better than to let any girlish thoughts get the best of her, but still, as he opened doors for her and called them a taxi, she couldn’t help an impish smile creeping up on her lips.

Even if she knew better, it didn’t mean she couldn’t bask in it.

As they found themselves seated at the table, the ambient lighting of the restaurant and low chatter of customers encompassing them with pleasant sense of privacy, Alison gestured to a waiter for a small glass of white wine. Once she had received it, she rested her chin on her knuckles and skimmed through the menu.

As she was pondering between a paella or tortilla-based dish, his voice broke her concentration, and she looked up to meet his eyes.

“I haven’t been in Hoenn too long,” she says, taking a sip from her wine glass. “A few months, maybe? Things were – drying up back in Kalos, so I thought it was best to have a change of scenery. Hoenn is always lovely this time of year, anyway.”

She takes a moment to think before continuing. To get her words right.

“I… Have been trying to keep my profile low,” she says carefully, her words controlled. Her gaze flickers to the table, breaking eye contact momentarily. “That’s probably why you haven’t seen much of me in the media. I haven’t felt too interested in interviews and performing as of late. The limelight felt a little too garish.”

She strains her cheeks into a tight smile, placing her glass down and knotting her fingers together to rest her chin on them.

“What about you? Are you from Hoenn, or are you visiting as well? You seem to be have a lot of big shoots going on - you must be busy.”

sevastian beau

☉

Alison waves her hand dismissively, scrunching her face with a light smile.

“Don’t be silly. I get it. It can be suffocating, even when you know the opportunities are beneficial.”

“The things you want and love the most can easily become a chore after a while – it’s just – important to remember why you started it in the first place.”

Her eyes waver on him for a second before she takes a long blink, swigging her wine until only a few millimetres is left in the glass. With every word Sevastian said, even despite his frustrations regarding his current circumstances, she was struggling to hide her jealousy. She was trying desperately to sound supportive, to be what he thought she was; but ultimately, that wasn't who she really was.

She wanted what he had. Badly.

“Why can’t you decline?” she continues nonchalantly, raising her eyebrows at him. “And why do you want to?”

sevastian beau

☉

“You talk like it is just a means to an end for you,” her voice is soft but searching.

It wasn’t easy being in the industry they were in. Stardom was the pinnacle of many dreams, but once achieved, the façade can quickly drop. It was relentless. An on-going, forever changing churn of work.

You had to love the pain to get anything out of it.

“I’m not sure burnout is the word I’d use for what I felt,” she responds, her gaze dropping to her nails which she looked at with no particular interest.

“I don’t know if I was ever overworked. I probably overworked others,” A ghost of a smile plays at her lips.

“But I can understand for some the pressure is overwhelming – smothering. The exhaustion never reached me but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand. That I didn’t see it in others. Ultimately, you– ”

She goes to continue put clamps her mouth shut as the waiter returns. After he orders, she decides on the paella as her wine is refilled. Her menu taken away, she clears her throat, her eyes floating to his clenched hand.

The words she originally went to say falter.

“What’s worrying you?”

sevastian beau

☉