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Hassel caught Brassius writing in a notebook while lounging in his atelier one day. Nothing ever stopped him from prying, and Brassius wasn’t much of a writer to his knowledge, so he walked up to him to catch his attention.
“What are you writing?” He towered over Brassius, but the artist barely glanced his way.
“I had an interview earlier, and they asked about you. It never occurred to me to have anything ready to talk about regarding you, so I had almost nothing to say. I try to be careful badmouthing people I like just in case the media runs with it, but I like too much about you to go on and on about that. So, I decided to make a list of my favorite things about you, just in case it comes up again.”
Hassel shook his head. “They made you talk about me during an interview about you? How crass!”
“I don’t mind. They see us together a lot, but I’d like a more refined answer for next time.” Brassius waved him away. “You’re blocking the light.”
Hassel moved away and sat at Brassius’s work table. The artist wasn’t working so he didn’t comment, busy with his little list. The idea started to fascinate Hassel the more he thought of it. A list of his favorite things about Brassius. He walked about until he found a piece of paper and mulled over the other and their relationship so far.
He found Brassius so interesting, so inspiring. Even on dull days like this. One of his favorite things was how soft he was once you got past the initial thorns. He even had a romantic edge when in good health and in a good mood. He brought Hassel flowers, often, and watched his face for a reaction. When he found out the artist owned a flower garden and he picked specific flowers for him, he found it so adorable that he’d bring him flowers as if he were some fair maiden in need of beautiful things.
The reason he could sit at Brassius’s work space was because of another one of his favorite things. Hassel took it upon himself to clean up his space a little bit, things on the floor since forever, dust collecting in not frequented places, hand-to-floor on places paint had spilled that Brassius claimed he’d get later. When Brassius first noticed his cleaning around his projects, he beamed at him and praised him as if he’d performed a miracle. Now he dropped hints when he needed help with cleaning. It cleared the artist’s mind. He went to work right after finding it clean. He worked so happily in a cleaner room. Just the fact that he even allowed Hassel to exist in such a sacred space floored him. Surely anyone else would throw him out of there.
Brassius also loved to be touched. He acted quite touch averse at first, he practically hissed people away, but he’d come around to Hassel in time. Now he demanded it, in pure Brassius fashion where he would ask for anything in the world but cuddles and still end up cuddling Hassel. During low times, Hassel found he preferred staying close rather than having space. Brassius enjoyed time alone, but he needed to be touched regularly the way a plant needed to see the sun regularly. But he’d rather wilt than ask for it directly, and Hassel found that oddly cute.
Hassel found him especially cute in his clothes. He stole many pieces of clothing from Hassel, and because of their height and overall size difference, it was glaring when he did this. He wore oversized shirts, sweaters, jackets, coats, anything he could swipe and put on later to lounge in. When Hassel asked, he had the hilarious audacity to claim it was his own. But wasn’t he right? Hassel left it there, so why shouldn’t Brassius also use his things?
Something Brassius wasn’t shy about was how much he loved Hassel carrying him. He adored being carried. He stated how much he wished he could carry Hassel and spoil him too. Hassel enjoyed his little display of power, and Brassius weighed almost nothing, sometimes falling asleep in his arms since he felt so safe there. This he would directly ask for, if he felt too weak. He outstretched his arms during those times and beckoned his stronger friend over. It didn’t take much. Hassel was weak for him. He wanted to help him whenever he could.
He was a jealous man. Brassius displayed such jealousy over silly things. One such thing was the piano. He adored the piano. Whenever Hassel wanted to summon his friend, he could play it, and he’d appear to listen. He touched it to feel its sound. He hated how attentively Hassel played the piano, the attention being on the piano annoyed him for some reason. He stopped once to give Brassius the attention instead, and he was immediately scolded. Brassius loved the soft piano music and swooned when he heard it. But he confessed that he was so jealous of it. Why? He didn’t know. But their rivalry humored Hassel.
Presently, he looked up and found the other looking right at him. When their eye contact broke, he thought that maybe Brassius looked at his hair. One of Brassius’s most defining features is his striking green hair, but he often voiced how lucky Hassel was for having lovely golden hair. In the middle of cuddling the sleepy artist, Brassius would reach for his hair and comment on it being like strands of golden thread. He asked Hassel if his hair sparkled in the sunlight when a strand moved in front of his eyes. Does it sparkle in the sunlight? Is it breathtaking every time? Does it glimmer with natural beauty? These questions might be from him having been drunk with sleep, but it showed Hassel how much he adored his hair. Maybe he’d grow it out just to bring him a little bit more joy.
He loved the little things about Brassius, but also deeper things as he wasn’t just a person on the surface level. His favorite of his invisible qualities included his honesty. Brassius told him the truth even if it hurt. He could be swayed to lie, but if he knew he needed the truth, he told him any unbearable truth instead of a pretty lie. Should he pursue music as a career? No, Brassius warned him, if he should pursue his art for money, then his soulful, beautiful sound will start to be the thing he resented. No one else said this to him, just that he was talented and good enough to make it a lifestyle.
There was also his being protective of Hassel too. Protecting people came naturally to Brassius despite his small size and general inability to win in an actual fight. He displayed his protective quality when he helped Hassel deal with the dragon clan coming after him day in and day out. He instructed him to keep on living and tell them to go away with the strongest resolve he could. When he stopped running and did just that, his life improved greatly. He worked without fear anymore. He belonged here, and his family couldn’t get him back. But whenever he felt his confidence crumble, Brassius could also scare off a clan member or two.
His absolute favorite thing about Brassius, all cards on the table, had to be his uniqueness. It came out in his work. One could look at something he made all day and never understand what he meant to convey even if the artist stood there and told you exactly why he made it. His mind worked differently than most people, and nearly every piece had layers upon layers of meaning, and it often also meant more than he could explain, which made it that much more precious. As he got to know Brassius, some of the finished products started to become apparent. Emotions never came out how you’d expect. It was riveting. It drew him to the artist in the first place. A fresh perspective. An eye that catches what other people miss. There was not anyone else in the world like Brassius.
Yet he was unbelievably shy and caring. He didn’t show it because his heart is so sensitive, but he cared so deeply for people and Pokémon. He hated crying in front of people and put up such a serious face in adversity, but he sometimes, very rarely, displayed how absolutely passionate he actually was and kind to everyone and everything. That side of him, he protected from other people, but Hassel just started bringing down those walls and getting a glimpse of his kind friend. Brassius may hide behind a grim expression, but he tried so hard to soften up and not scare people. He did like people. He rarely admitted it, but he really did like people.
Especially kids: no one in their right mind actually let their children be around Brassius, but that was an unfortunate reality because he loved showing people how to do things or explaining things that people don’t understand. Hassel never told him, but Brassius had a talent for teaching kids. His enthusiasm was contagious, and that often kept their attention. They could see how sunny he actually was despite his scowl. They paid attention to his actions, and really, why wouldn’t children like a man who decorated the town in colorful works of art and talked to them respectfully and listened to them speak their minds? Brassius being less intimidating in size made him significantly less scary to children, and he unknowingly benefitted from their attention. Their criticism usually had to do with unimportant things such as the lack of pink or the odd shape. Brassius should be a teacher.
Much later, La Primera, the League coordinator in Paldea, asked him for his opinion on something.
“Brassius has asked to be a Gym Leader for the League circuit in Paldea. You know enough about him, Hassel, what’s your opinion?”
Hassel recalled his list and told her, “I think he would be exceptionally proficient as a Gym Leader, but I do think you should challenge him to a battle yourself and form your own opinion.”
After all, everything he liked about Brassius, he decided on his own after getting to know him. Brassius had a certain flavor that you needed to experience to make a decision on whether or not you liked him.
But to Hassel, that was favorite flavor.
CosmosVoid Sun 24 Mar 2024 06:21PM UTC
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TheIrenicUniverse Mon 25 Mar 2024 12:19PM UTC
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