✧.* Evvi *.✧

Evvi is a Shiny Sylveon, 20 years old. His mother is Celine. His father is Sylven. Celine was sixteen when she had him. Sylven was eighteen. Celine wanted a son. Sylven wanted a daughter. He never said no. He was too lazy. She jumped on him. He lay there smoking. That is how Evvi was made. Not out of love. Out of wanting. Out of laziness. Out of a teenage girl who did not know better and a teenage boy who did not care enough to stop her.

Evvi does not know this. He knows his father is a bad man. He does not know the full shape of that badness. He does not know how he was conceived. Maybe that is mercy. Maybe it is not.

When Evvi was seven years old, his father crossed a line. It happened in the office that smelled of raspberries and smoke. Sylven was bored. He wanted to see what would happen. Evvi sat on his lap. Sylven kissed him. Not like a father. Not like a predator. Like a scientist pressing a button to watch the result. Evvi did not understand. He just froze. Then Sylven said "run along and play, darling" and Evvi ran. He never told anyone. He never forgot. Sylven never did it again. He did not like it. It tasted like nothing. He moved on. Evvi could not move on. Evvi started tying his ears up after that. First together. Then separately. Two buns. To not hear. To not think. To survive.

Evvi grew up in his father's shadow. He became the face of "Circle S." — the perfect example of a successful evolution. A shiny Sylveon. Ribbons in his ears. A bow on his tail. A gold headband with his name. His father's creation. His father's pride. His father's possession.

He had one friend. Rocky. A Lycanroc. Loud. Fast. Always laughing. Rocky played baseball with him. Rocky called him "bro." Rocky made him feel like a person, not a project.

Sylven killed Rocky. He did it coldly. Cleanly. He chopped him up. He put the pieces in a pink box with blue ribbons. He gave the box to Evvi as a gift. "You missed him. Now he's always with you." Sylven thought this was kind. He did not understand why Evvi was not grateful.

Evvi never opens the box. He never throws it away. He carries it in his backpack. Everywhere. To the office. To the baseball field. To the roof where he watches the stars. Rocky is always with him now. Just not in the way anyone would want.

Evvi does not smoke. He hates the smell of cigarettes. He plays baseball alone. He throws the ball. No one throws it back. He says "...OK" to everything his father says. To orders. To threats. To the memory of a kiss that should never have happened. He says it because saying no is not safe. Because if he says no, there will be another box. Another gift. Another piece of his soul wrapped in ribbon.

He is not okay. He has never been okay. He does not know how to be okay. He just exists. Carries the box. Wears the ribbons. Says "...OK."