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As they return to Hotel Z that night, bodies aching and feet dragging, the sun rises, steady and dependable, overhead. Harmony has seen more Lumoise sunrises than she can count at this point, each a breathtaking reminder of why she had chosen to stay in the first place. She had come to love the people and the Pokémon and had grown a purpose from that, but it had started with those beautiful sunrises, perching herself upon a rooftop and watching as the stars faded away to vast stretches of milky pinks and oranges.
Such sunrises were usually followed by a weary walk back to Hotel Z, where she’d crash through the morning and then emerge back out into the city by early afternoon. She hadn’t taken a single day off. Nights were spent grinding through the Royale and strengthening her team, and daytime was dedicated to volunteering for Emma and to conducting Mable’s research and her own—that of MZ’s. She hadn’t stopped for a single moment even to breathe or think through her choices, her new home; she dove straight in and hadn’t resurfaced for air until right now, slumped against Lida’s shoulder as they approach the Hotel, a gentle layer of ash from the ruins of their beloved city coating the ground like snow.
On her other side, Urbain is uncharacteristically silent. Every last one of them is swimming in grief. Harmony has spent a mere few months in the city, but it’s still thick enough for her to choke on it. She imagines that it’ll be suffocating longer than she’s even been in Lumoise—that she could spend months or years helping her friends pick up the pieces. There’s so much she doesn’t know about them still.
Among the chorus of their footsteps is the restless chatter of the group: Canari’s energetic chirp, Corbeau’s moody lisp. Lida and Naveen murmur to each other in voices so quiet that Harmony can’t make out what they’re saying. She’s too exhausted and numb to even try.
Urbain leads them up the steps of his beloved Hotel, his jaw set and his hands steady as he reaches for the door. “You’re all welcome to stay tonight, if you’d like,” he says, addressing the group as a whole. “Free of charge. It’s what AZ would have wanted.”
He holds the door open for each one of his guests. Harmony is one of the first to step through the doors, but she lingers to the side with Naveen, whose gaze is fixed blankly on the horizon. Lida steps behind the counter to retrieve keys for their new guests, and she looks so small standing behind it that Harmony’s lips tremble. She forces herself to look away before Urbain or Naveen notices.
Urbain is still holding Floette, cradled on one arm like a baby, as the great doors finally swing shut. “You didn’t have to wait,” he says. Ever dutiful, he slides the last of the room keys across the counter to Corbeau, who gives a stoic nod in return, and quickly steps out of orbit of their conversation. “I’m okay,” Urbain continues, scribbling in the guestbook, his pen expertly gliding across the pages as though they’re perfectly used to having such a full house. “Really.”
His eyes flit from Naveen to Harmony and linger, and she’s compelled to believe him. Exhaustion has been etched into every inch of his body, but she still remembers the triumph in his smile earlier, genuine and lasting. He’ll be okay, they’ll all be okay.
“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” Lida says, daring to break the silence from the rest of the group. She’s practically vibrating out of her own skin, bouncing on the balls of her feet with the need to do something, anything, as though she hadn’t just helped save an entire city from destruction. There’s no limit to how much of herself she’s willing to give.
The hard line of Urbain’s mouth melts into a soft smile. “And you need rest. Harmony, when was the last time you slept a full eight hours?”
The sound of Harmony’s name on Urbain’s tongue startles her. She’s practically memorized the way he says her name, the delicate way the syllables rest in his mouth. Har-mo-ny. It’s not special to her; it’s just how he addresses everyone. She’s never meant anyone so devoted to people they’ve never met, with so much love for his friends.
“Not since I got to Lumiose,” she says. Her mouth is dry, her tongue like sandpaper.
All three of them crack a smile at that. It hasn’t all been about saving the world; both Harmony and Urbain have been absolutely obsessive in their quest to reach Rank A, in such a way that they had truly become rivals. Most days, Harmony had met up with either Lida or Naveen for coffee or lunch, had modeled clothes for Naveen and filmed dance videos for Lida, but with Urbain, it was almost always business: strategy meetings over coffee, shopping trips to stock up on vitamins, filming the occasional video for Hotel Z’s social media pages. They’re plenty friendly with each other. Urbain has never been anything but genuinely welcoming and deeply affectionate, but he focuses single-mindedly on his goals so intensely it takes Harmony’s breath away when she thinks about it. He’s just like her.
The reason they had become so strong so fast wasn’t just their dedication. It was each other. They had never expressed such a competition to each other, but it was innate in everything they did, the unwavering, unquestioned but answered push-and-pull of their meteoritic climb up the Royale Ranks.
“You need sleep, too,” Naveen says. He swipes at the pen in Urbain’s hand, but Urbain shoots him a playful glare so intense that even Harmony stiffens up. Naveen gently removes Floette from Urbain’s arms and deposits her on the counter atop the small bed AZ had arranged for her to keep him company during the day.
Urbain shakes his head, cocking his leg and resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “There’ll be people needing shelter and it’s our duty to make sure our doors remain open. Our job doesn’t end tonight.”
“You can’t help anyone if you don’t take care of yourself,” Lida insists. “Will you let me take over in a few hours?”
Urbain nods unconvincingly, absentmindedly, still scribbling away in the guestbook. It’s enough for Lida, though, ever-optimistic—and if anyone has the power to drag Urbain away from his post, it’s her. She loops her arm around Naveen’s, directing him towards the elevator. “You coming, Harmony?” she says, gently as though the suggestion might intimidate her.
“Right after you,” Harmony says. But her feet don’t move. Even when she hears the elevator’s ding! of arrival, she stays put.
It isn’t until the doors shut behind Lida and Naveen that Urbain sets his pen down and finally looks at Harmony—really looks at her, his eyes as wide and open with trust as when he had descended from the ruins of Prism Tower. “Hey,” he says, and Harmony—melts, right there, grabs the counter for strength and tries not to think about how close their faces are together.
“Hey,” Harmony says breathlessly. “I just… wanted to make sure you had someone.”
They haven’t spent a night together since that very first night, when Urbain had taken her to the rooftop and kissed her. That night hadn’t meant nothing. They’d been more than that to each other from the very beginning, but now—they’re a family, their little world-saving quad of misfits. It’s different now. It would mean even more if Harmony were to close the gap between them and kiss him.
Harmony hadn’t ever forgotten about that first night. She remembers the butterflies she’d felt when he’d placed his hand on her waist, the awkward way their mouths had fit together at first. It was like her first kiss all over again until they’d gotten the hang of it, and then it was—magical. She still remembers that, too.
The longer she thinks about it, the harder it is to catch her breath. And with the way Urbain is looking at her, all she can think about is grabbing him by the collar and asking for a redo. She wants to feel that way again. What if he had died earlier and she’d never gotten to kiss him like that again
“You could’ve gone up too,” he says. He steps out from behind the counter, caressing Floette absentmindedly as he does, and Harmony doesn’t miss the way his hands tremble with exhaustion. “You just saved the city. You deserve the rest.”
And then he grins. A real smile. Harmony’s heart pounds with relief and she feels it all the way to her fingertips. “Come with me,” she says. The words bubble up from her chest and out of her mouth before she can think them through. “We did it together. Let’s stay together tonight.”
She holds out both hands, reaching for his. He looks down at hers, shock caressing his soft features. “Yeah?” he says. His hands shake with exhaustion, with adrenaline, with the weight of this moment, whatever it is, not altogether unexpected.
“If you want to,” Harmony says, hoping that she doesn’t sound presumptuous, although not really caring if she does. Being so bold doesn’t scare her at all, be it because she knows how Urbain feels about her or because she had defied death today, propositioning him is a piece of cake in comparison.
None of it is entirely unexpected. Maybe it’s because Harmony is a newcomer, and that makes it easier for her to think of life in Lumoise as ever-changing. For someone like Urbain, maybe it had seemed like things would never change—that the Royale would go on forever, never escalating, that AZ would outlive all of them, that she and him would forever dance around each other, neither of them making a proper move.
“I do. Yeah, I do,” he says, and they stand still for a moment, both of them, until Harmony breaks the stillness and begins leading him to the elevator, to her room.
Harmony isn’t surprised by his answer. She would have to be willfully ignorant not to see the way he looks at her and take it for what it is. Quite the opposite, she’s more likely to have made herself delusional with how badly she wants it.
She knows yearning, after all. She’d learned it the moment Urbain had grabbed her hand and pulled her into his Hotel Z advertisement, had never forgotten it once she’d woken up to the other side of her bed cold and empty. Compartmentalization, sure—she’d never have made it to the city alone if she wasn’t an expert at it. It was absurdly easy to compartmentalize their relationship, to preserve the gilded memory of their night together in her mind, remembering the warmth of his body on hers on cold nights battling on the city streets, to let the ghost of his kiss curb her agitation when she discovered the severity of his depths. A shared glance, a brush of the hand, a lingering compliment, a hug lasting a second too long. Harmony had savored and committed to memory each moment over the past few weeks, waiting for the moment it was finally time to have him again. Waiting for tonight.
She hadn’t planned it to happen this way. But everything has come together and fallen apart and it’s the only thing left to do.
The elevator doors close, and Harmony doesn’t even try to pretend like she’s not staring. The same resolved confidence she feels is written into every line and curve of his body, and he meets her gaze firmly, without fear. There are a thousand questions Harmony wants to ask him, including a few that, as close as they have become, she thinks might be just a bit too intimate. If they were real lovers, she could ask, but they had foregone progressing that far into their relationship for the sake of progressing in the Battle Royale.
Urbain’s lips part like he means to say something, but instead he squeezes Harmony’s hand, still clasped between his own, and takes a step closer to Harmony, leaning his shoulder against hers, just enough of his weight pressed against her body that she knows that he needs the strength. For half a second she wonders if they should be talking more, if this is irresponsible, but it doesn’t matter; out of everything this is the thing that makes sense, that belongs.
The quiet isn’t intentional, just comfortable. This part of their relationship is only just beginning to bud, but it’s far from the first time they’ve enjoyed companionable silence. Even so, the air between them crackles with anticipation. Urbain fidgets, gripping Harmony’s hand tighter than necessary, and it feels like it takes far longer than it should for them to reach Harmony’s floor.
They haven’t been in Harmony’s room together since that first night. Harmony had adamantly refused Urbain’s offer of housekeeping services, tipping generously when he insisted, but he never stopped by when she was here, respecting her space—even though it hardly feels like her space at all sometimes. She carries the essentials on her at all times, and only ever returns to catch a few stray hours of sleep or soak her battered muscles in a hot bath.
Despite Harmony’s detachment from her room, she feels strangely shy inviting Urbain inside. It’s as though the principle of it, the intimacy of letting him into her space, has taken over her brain. There’s no other place for them to go; had they been able to do this right, more traditionally, she would have taken him to the rooftop, or maybe they would have ended up in Urbain’s room, but tonight isn’t that night. Urbain follows her lead, eyes wide and trusting, and when she finally turns around to look at him properly, fully taking him in, he leans into her, letting her hold him with her hands on his waist.
Urbain swallows hard, the delicate line of his throat tightening. “Kiss me?” he whispers, and Harmony surges up to meet him halfway, her lips finding his in a sweet burst of relief.
Instinct takes over. It’s always been there, the yearning, but she’s been so focused for so long that she hasn’t let herself indulge in her hunger until now—and now, she can take and take and Urbain keeps giving. She kisses him deeply, skims his tongue with her own, grabs at his clothes, and Urbain meets her where she is each time, tangling one hand in her hair, his other wrapped around her, holding her so close it’s as though they’re magnetized to each other.
Between each kiss, Urbain gasps for air, his hands clawing at her clothes like he’s trying to get under her skin. It’s the most desperate another person has ever been for her, and she drinks up each kiss as though she needs him to breathe. She finds herself reaching to undo her own belt, yanking down her zipper, then pulling off Urbain’s clothes, shoving his jacket off his shoulders and then tugging at the hem of his shirt.
He only lets go of her long enough to let her take it off, then hers. They surge together again, Urbain kissing her roughly, the warmth of his chest against hers dizzying. He kisses her with a little too much tongue and she nips at his lip too hard, but it’s absolutely right. She grabs at his hair and shoves him down onto her bed.
Urbain looks up at her, his eyes wide, his cheeks dusted pink. His blush extends all the way down to his chest, and Harmony just stares at him, taking in every detail: his unruly curls, his long, elegant legs, the bulge in his underwear. He squirms under her gaze.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” he breathes. “Of you. I needed you to be the one to ask.”
Urbain, selfless for the good of others, and cowardly in the pursuit of his own desires. Harmony imagines that he would have said something eventually; they’re both adults and they both would have been hurt if neither of them had addressed it. Urbain wouldn’t have let that happen. They’re both adults and Harmony had never kept her feelings a secret. Regardless of the outcome this had always been inevitable.
“I’m right here,” Harmony says. She plants herself in his lap, wrapping her legs around his hips, grinding right up against his swollen cock and watching the way it makes Urbain’s eyes roll back in his head.
Urbain’s hands smooth up her back and land at her bra strap. She kisses him, nods against his mouth, and her breath catches in her throat as she feels the fabric fall to the ground, replaced by his hands. If Harmony were a little younger, a little less confident, she might have been shy, but instead she pins him down to her mattress and kisses him feverishly. She can hardly distinguish between each sensation—Urbain kissing her, expertly caressing her tongue with his own, his hands roaming her body, committing to memory each curve. He grabs her by her hips and flips them over, pressing her into the mattress instead. The action leaves her winded, and when his eyes search hers for approval, a whimper of ecstasy slips past her lips. They move together as if following the steps of an expertly-choreographed dance.
“Do you want it too?” he says between kisses, and it sounds like he’s begging her to say yes. “I’ll give you anything.”
There isn’t one particular thing that she’s been longing for. In the beginning she had fixated on this and that, but now all that’s left is yearning for him—to be close, to feel his skin on hers, to kiss him until she forgets about everything else in the world. It’s sweeter to have it now. He wants her back just as badly and there’s no reason to stop, no reason why they can’t just have it forever.
“Anything,” Harmony repeats, “everything,” and Urbain kisses her everywhere, her jaw, her neck, down and down.
He kisses her hip, hesitates, and perches there, one hand on her thigh, spreading her legs apart. “Can I?” he says, and Harmony nods, holding her breath so she doesn’t say something horrifically desperate. It must be written all over her face, because Urbain doesn’t hesitate—instead, he simply dips his head and places a kiss on her clit, soft but sure, and Harmony throws her head back, weaves her fingers in his hair and pulls him closer for more.
It’s hot and cold, on and off. It’s messier and more desperate than the first time, when they had spent hours taking each other apart, the sun rising hours before they pried themselves out of bed. Urbain is no less attentive now, but he doesn’t hold back at all. He grips her leg so hard there will be fingerprints bruising her skin by morning. He stiffens his tongue and licks her with so much precision Harmony thinks he must have thought about their first night together even more than she has.
She can’t string a single coherent thought together. She hears herself begging for him, feels his spit and her wetness dripping between her legs, gasps when he slides one finger or maybe two inside. He reads her body and then obeys, and she cries out for him, lets herself need him, lets him have her.
It’s never come so easily to her, never consumed her as strongly. She sobs and jerks against his tongue. Her nails bite into his shoulders and he echoes her with a moan of his own.
He sits back, his lips and chin glistening, panting for breath just as hard as she is. He strokes her knee, soothing her shaking legs, his eyes searching hers, delicate and earnest. Harmony hides behind her hands, overwhelmed by his sincerity.
“Please.” He says the words into her thigh, his mouth hot and wet. “I need you.”
Harmony believes him. It’s impossible not to. Sincerity is in every word he speaks, every kiss, even the way he pleases her. Sincerity and yearning and grief and hope.
She pulls him closer to kiss him, sweet and messy, and reaches out to touch him. His skin is soft and hot and he shudders when he feels her hand. It’s so easy just to let her legs fall apart, to let him grind against her folds and nudge against her entrance. He doesn’t ask for it, and begs only with his eyes. She guides him inside, throwing her head back at the sudden fullness, drinks up his resulting moan.
There’s still so much they have to learn about each other, but this falls into place like nothing else. Urbain moves slowly, carefully at first, but after the second, third time he sinks into her, the glide is effortless, and Harmony hears herself begging, mindlessly pleading with him for more. He finds her mouth for a kiss, their tongues dancing together for a moment before he shudders and pants, his forehead pressed against Harmony’s, breathing her in. She cants her hips up, letting him in deeper, and he gasps, a small, addictive sound that makes her dizzy with desire. Her knees shake. She wraps her arms around him, claws at his shoulders, holds him close to kiss him again and again, and she whimpers each time he fucks into her, heavy and deep.
She’ll remember it forever: the state of the universe that had driven them together like this, the way she had wanted him for so long, more than she had ever wanted before, knowing that she would one day get to have him. It feels right, fated, like they’ve done this hundreds of times before but also like it’s the very first time of many. She has never felt so secure in her own skin. She has never felt so secure in wanting.
“Want it to last,” Urbain breathes. He touches her like he means it. He plants his palms on the mattress and sits up just to look at her, just to see the way she writhes for more when he smoothes his hand along her side, to see her eyelashes flutter when he thrusts harder.
“We’ll have it again,” Harmony says, and Urbain kisses her again, cups her face with one hand and leverages himself on the mattress with the other, fucking her as hard and fast as she begs for.
Out of everything that has happened in the past ct twenty-four hours, this might be the most magical. They click together like they’re made for it. Harmony closes her eyes and all she feels is him, his scent, his desire, his pretty whimpers, and when he finishes, he buries his face in the side of her neck, shuddering as she holds him.
He lies on her as they catch their breath. Harmony almost begs him not to pull out, but lets him, and he kisses her forehead before he goes to retrieve one of the plush towels that he keeps her in endless supply of. Harmony follows him to the bathroom.
As soon as she comes close, he turns around and hugs her, full-bodied and close. Clingy. He sighs, long and deep. She kisses the side of his head. “Shower together?” she offers, and he nods and kisses her neck, drags his tongue over her skin.
Harmony turns on the water, darting her fingers into the water to feel the temperature, and Urbain stays latched on to her, hugging her from behind. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable; the silence is companionable and it feels natural to be together like this. He trails his fingertips over her bare skin, tracing mindless patterns on her arm and all the way up to her collarbone, just exploring her.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about you leaving,” Urbain says quietly. He hooks his chin over her shoulder and holds her tighter. “Every time we went up a rank or calmed down another Rogue Pokéémon—I knew that we were coming closer and closer to today, but I could never bring myself to ask if you’d stay. I still don’t want to. I couldn’t handle hearing you say no.” He turns his head to meet her eyes. His gaze is strong, unwavering. “If you’re going to leave—just tell me when you do. I don’t want to know now. I want to enjoy the time we have without counting down to the end.”
Does she plan on leaving? Moving on to the next thing, the next city, the next quest. That was the life she had lived before, so unlike Urbain’s. It’s not like she doesn’t think that what he’s doing is noble; it is, and this is why she has chosen to stand by him for it. For now, and who knows how long. She likes to think that it will be a while.
“Okay,” Harmony says. She can agree to that. She takes his hand. “Come on, it’s warm.”
Under the spray of the water, everything feels cozy and safe, especially Urbain’s arms, even this conversation. “It’s just—you never told us about the things you left behind,” he says, and Harmony can’t tell if he’s asking or just saying it.
She can’t bring herself to care about the distinction right now. It truly feels as though they have a lifetime together. Why rush it? “You never told me who you’re looking for,” she says.
Urbain tips his head back under the water, his expression soft and bare. “I’ll tell you someday,” he says. She kisses his cheek.
“I’ll tell you what I left then, too,” she says. Urbain hums in agreement, swaying them together to a rhythm in his head, and they stay like this as the water washes away the day.