Sparks Fly (reupload)

Pondering

Bonnie's cheers were no doubt audible, but they were drowned out by Clemont's thoughts.

It was amazing news that Ash was coming. Incredible, even. Having his friend come back for the holiday season meant a lot to Clemont, like a surprise gift. Except the gift would be here for a limited time, so Clemont had to make every day count.

Despite the clutter of thoughts regarding preparing the house for both Ash and the holidays, Clemont's mind continued to linger on the subject of Ash himself.

It was odd, though. Yes, he was excited, but in a way that felt different than that.

No, not that way either.

An image of the ravenette kept replaying in Clemont's head. Ash and his partner Pokémon, Pikachu, were both smiling, with Pikachu perched on Ash's shoulder. Ash's attitude was a perfect mix of determination, excitement, and positivity. Those were Clemont's favorite things about Ash, among other things. Like his selflessness, his naivety, his love for everyone...

And then a strange, warm feeling came over Clemont. It was like an Arbok wrapping around Clemont's insides, pulling them tighter and tighter. Somehow, though, it felt comforting. His body was both tense and relaxed at the same time. It was a feeling that even he of his intellect couldn't describe.

Clemont, however, remembered experiencing this feeling before.

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It was back when he was around six or seven years old, when he, his father, and Bonnie were all taking a walk around Lumiose City, per Bonnie's request. He remembered her begging her dad in her limited English to bring them outside, and eventually he did. Bonnie was resting on top of their dad's shoulders while Clemont was holding his hand, watching the people and Pokémon that passed them.

A group of girls Clemont's age walked past the family of three. One of them glanced at Clemont, smiled, and waved at him shyly. The boy had no idea who she was or where she came from, but he had that feeling. His heart began beating at a faster rate, and his insides felt wonky. He couldn't understand why, though. Was it because she waved to him? Or that she had glasses like he did? Maybe it was her smile. Or the way her raven hair flowed in the wind...

Or because she was really pretty.

Clemont nervously tightened his grip on his father's hand, despite the sweat that was on his own. "Hey, is there something wrong?" Meyer asked Clemont.

"I, uh," Clemont stammered, looking back to see if the girls were still there. The last of the mystery girl's raven hair disappeared around the corner of a building. "Can we talk about it at home? Tonight?"

The man nodded. "Of course. We'll do it after Bonnie goes to bed, okay?"

Clemont nodded, trying to let go of the feeling that he wasn't sure what to call or how to deal with.

"I wanna go home now!" Bonnie whined.

"But we-" Clemont began.

"Home now!" she repeated, raising her voice.

Hoping to not draw any attention to themselves, Meyer and Clemont sighed in defeat and began walking home, Bonnie cheering in tow.

A few hours passed, and by then Bonnie exhausted herself to sleep. Clemont was sitting on his bed, dressed in his pajamas, reading a book about engineering and waiting patiently for his dad to come.

Sure enough, a knock came from his open doorway. "Can I come in?" his dad asked.

Clemont placed a bookmark inside the book and placed it on his nightstand as he watched his father make his way over to the edge of the bed. "So what did you want to tell me?" Meyer asked as he sat down.

The young blonde inhaled and proceeded to tell his father about what happened with him and the mystery girl. He made sure not to leave out a single detail, in case his dad made the wrong conclusion and would call the ambulance because of a potential internal injury.

When Clemont finished rambling, he looked up to his dad "I'm so confused. What is this feeling?" Clemont asked.

Meyer chuckled. "Calm down, Clemont. It's simple: you like her."

"Like? As in like-like?"

Clemont's father nodded. "That was how your mother and I felt towards each other. Once..." his voice trailed off. Meyer's eyes looked melancholy and distant.

"Um, dad?" Clemont asked, snapping the man back into reality. "Does this happen whenever I see a girl I think is cute now?"

"Well, if you're attracted to girls, sure. If you think boys are cute, then you might feel the same way. Or anyone, really."

Clemont was puzzled. He thought that boys liked girls, and vice versa. "A boy can like a boy?" he asked.

"Yeah," his father nodded. "That's love. Always changing. Time for bed, Clemont. We got a busy day tomorrow." He kissed his son's forehead and left the room, making the floorboards creak as he stepped on them.

Clemont took off his glasses off and laid in his bed, his mind focused on the fact that girls could like girls and guys could like guys. Then he began to think about the girl he saw earlier. They were all pretty, but not like she was. That didn't make him like guys then, right?

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The memory ended there for him, the same question swirling around his mind. Clemont had no recollection of what was so important about the next day, but he remembered getting over his crush by the time he had turned nine.

And then it hit him. Since he could feel the same way about guys, did that mean he was attracted to Ash?

Clemont sighed. There was no reason to dwell on that for now, and that there were more important things to take care of before Ash's arrival.

'Besides,' he thought. 'I'm not attracted to boys. I'm straight, and that's that.'

"Hey, Clemont?" Bonnie called from her room, breaking his train of thought. "Where's Ash going to sleep?"

"I'm not sure!" Clemont yelled back.

There was a quick moment of silence before Bonnie responded, "What about your room? It's pretty big!"

Clemont's heart leapt. 'Sleeping in the same room as Ash?'

Sure, he had done it before. But that was when they were in sleeping bags, and on a journey across Kalos. Not sleeping together like a married couple!

"Uh, sure!" Clemont blurted.

It was at that moment that he realized what was going to be on his mind for the next few days.