For every mile of ocean crossed ☆ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thingwithfeathers2017-10-15 12:21 am
outstretched) wrote in thingwithfeathers2017-10-15 12:21 am
Halcyon (Green/Red, gen, 3/5)
Title: Halcyon (3/5) DNftST #85 (Let Go)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,957 (this chapter); ~32k (total)
Genre: Romance, Drama, Character Study
Fandom: Pokémon
Pairings: Green/Red, background and implied pairings, a lot of gen
Warnings: This chapter- trauma recovery both emotional and physical, abuse survivors, nonbinary original characters
Summary: Sometimes the sea itself is a gift. Sometimes the gift is something it brings you.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Fic Tag
AO3 Mirror. FFN Mirror. French Translation.
No one is waiting for Red in Pallet. They didn't announce his discharge date, and their families are returning from Saffron at a more sedate pace. When Green and Red teleport into the center of town, it's empty.
Red looks around from his seat in the wheelchair, squinting from the sun. After a moment, he lifts his hand to cast shade across his face.
"Miss your hat, huh," Green says.
Red doesn't reply.
Green is standing ready behind the wheelchair, but Red's in no hurry, so Green supposes he isn't either. Instead he watches Red as he looks around, surveying thirteen years of change. Viridian is close enough to Pallet that Green kept up with the modifications: new paint on the window shutters, the mailbox Daisy put up three years ago, the bench that was installed after the lighthouse was built. The heart of town is largely untouched, but Pallet is larger than even two years ago, swelling with new construction that has pushed the town limits outward. As children, the tall grass brushed their ankles as they played in their backyards, but now trainers have a much longer walk to reach Route 1.
"Well," Green tries again, "welcome home."
Red is still silent. He looks toward the lighthouse, its white paint brilliant in the mid-afternoon sunlight, interrupting the clear line of sight to the ocean that Green remembered as a child.
"Yeah, that's where I live," he says, pointing. "You too I guess, at least for now. Do you wanna check it out?"
Red stares at the lighthouse without answering. The humidity creeps beneath Green's collar, and he drums his fingers against the wheelchair's plastic handles. Patiently, Green waits a full sixty seconds before he sighs and nudges the wheelchair a bit. The brakes are locked so it only rocks forward a little, but it's enough to make Red jump and turn to stare at Green.
"Yeah, hi," Green says, "it's me, the person you've been ignoring for the last five minutes. Can we go inside? Teleporting always takes it out of me and I'd like to go home."
Red frowns, his hand falling from his forehead to pinch at the brim of a hat that isn't there; then he catches himself. He twists in his chair until he finds and unlocks the brakes.
"Great," Green sighs. "All aboard the lighthouse express."
He pushes Red up the long hill. Green's not out of shape, and Red's underweight from his hospital stay, but Green is still panting by the time they reach the front door. He swings it open and nudges Red inside, hissing as the wheels catch on the carpet.
"I should've asked for hardwood," he grumbles, shoving at the wheelchair until it's parked next to the sofa. "You thirsty?"
Red shakes his head no but Green brings him a glass of water anyway, remembering that Red always wanted ice. He sets the glasses on the coffee table and flops onto the sofa with a sigh.
"So..." he says, pausing to clear his throat. "This is the living room, kitchen's over there, bathroom's there, your bedroom's over there with mine right next to it," he says, pointing. "The beacon room's upstairs. I set up your room, though it's not like you had much."
The room slips into strained silence until Green's restless hands brush the strange poké ball at his belt. "Oh," he says, letting Eevee out. Immediately she licks Green's nose and then bounds off the sofa to greet Red, hopping into his lap and nuzzling his cheek.
He smiles, and it's his first real expression since they arrived. Red pets her in all her favorite spots, and Green wonders if it's because he remembers or because he's so good at reading pokémon.
"You'll be able to see Pikachu later, too," Green says. "Gramps says he'll bring him over."
Red's hands twitch in Eevee's fur. He gives Green the same look he's been casting ever since he woke up: something between suspicion and confusion, as if trying to suss out an ulterior motive. Green bristles when he sees it but refuses, this time, to be the one to break the truce.
"I'm gonna tell Lucy we're back. Holler if you need me, I guess," he says, but Red doesn't respond. He only nods and returns to petting Eevee.
Green sighs and climbs the staircase, whistling for Lucy.
--
Physical therapy works with Red three hours a day, six days a week. Red is always out of breath, and he wears Green's clothes until his mother buys things that fit—when he came home, all she had were boxes full of an eleven-year-old's things. When Green does the laundry those first few weeks, he's disoriented by the foreign scent that clings to familiar fabric.
Red works at tossing large inflatable balls back and forth, or trying to hold his arms in place as the therapist's nidorina gently pulls against them. Sometimes all he does is stand up, wobbling as his trunk muscles relearn how to hold his own weight, while the physical therapist and Nidorina form a protective ring around him. It's hard to notice progress from day to day, but as weeks pass, he does get stronger.
The air turns humid as the rainy season looms. The physical therapist takes advantage of the last few days of good weather to work with Red outside when possible, saying the ocean air is invigorating. When Green heads into town, Eevee always knows when to turn back and help take Red inside, which makes Green wonder just how good her vision really is.
"It's Nidorina," the therapist tells him, grinning, when Green asks. "She waves at your eevee and the sun flashes off her poison barbs." After that, Green squints when Eevee starts running back to the lighthouse and sees a scattered gleaming in the distance.
Nidorina gets along well with their pokémon: play-wrestling with Pikachu, combing claws through Eevee's fur, high-fiving Green's machamp. But Green built his life around pokémon and their body language, and he sees how carefully she restrains herself. He looks at her more closely and finds faint scars all across her hide.
"She's a rescue pokémon," the physical therapist explains when ze catches Green staring for the fifth or sixth time. "She was part of a fighting ring the police busted. I work with pokémon, too—that's how we met. I wasn't looking for a partner, but life has a strange way, you know?" Ze presses a kind hand against Nidorina's head and she lifts her chin to nose against it, whuffling. "She only knew how to fight, but now she knows lots of other things, too. I like bringing her to work with patients because she reminds them anything can be overcome. You just have to work hard."
Nidorina teaches Green how to help Red move from place to place: bracing Red's knees with his own so he can't fall forward and slinging Red's forearms over his shoulders. The position brings them close together, as if they're dancing. Red's eyes rake across his face before they both look down at the floor to stay balanced. The position allows Green to take some of Red's weight and they pivot together, feet shuffling, until Red can sink down onto the sofa, or his bed, or a kitchen chair for breakfast. The touch is purely functional, the two of them focused on the effort of moving. Green grows accustomed to the sudden grip of Red's hand on his bicep, its strength slowly increasing as the days of physical therapy pass.
When he helps Red into bed, the hardest part is maneuvering him from a sitting position to a supine one. The first night it takes half an hour; Green ends up climbing into Red's bed close to the headboard and dragging him up the mattress until his head is roughly where the pillows should go, and the effort makes his back hurt for two days. The next day Machamp places him in bed, but Red looks so annoyed (and Pikachu sparks with such obvious jealousy) that they never do it again. When the therapist visits for the first time, ze teaches them the proper way to get someone into bed: Green swings Red's legs onto the mattress while Red turns his upper body, hands flailing as he tries to catch his weight against the bed and push himself. Pikachu jumps onto his chest as soon as he's settled, and both of them watch Green as he tucks a pillow under Red's head. Green always stares back; he's still not good at backing down, not really.
Green has never touched someone as much as this. The closest experience he has is when they wrestled as children, and even those memories were papered over with anger as they got older and the tussling changed to all-out fighting. Thinking back, he finds he can't remember many details. He remembers pushing with all his strength against what felt like an immovable object. He remembers that sometimes it hurt. But he doesn't remember what Red's skin felt like or how Red sounded when he laughed. He has no idea what to expect now, and no way to reconcile those memories with the new ease with which he enters Red's personal space and is never rebuffed.
Red whispers "Thank you" every time he's settled in a new position, his voice thin with exhaustion. "Don't mention it," Green replies. Still, Red continues thanking him until Green looks him in the eye and says, "No, seriously. Don't mention it."
Red lapses into his accustomed silence after that, but sometimes he holds onto Green for a moment longer than he has to. Green wonders if he remembers too, if he also feels the sensation of new exploration across once-familiar terrain.
Red graduates from the wheelchair and starts using a cane instead. Green starts being alert any time Red is on his feet, waiting for signs indicating he needs a shoulder to lean on or help to sit down. Red often overestimates himself and sometimes it leads to Green sliding him right onto the floor. He trembles as he grips Green's forearms, face flushed. He won't look at Green, keeping his narrowed eyes fixed on the kitchen tiles.
Green wiggles his arms until Red lets go. "Red," he says, "you've got to take it easy sometimes. This isn't a race."
Red's eyes flick up to his and Green recoils from the fury he sees there. But after a moment he realizes that he's mistaken—it's frustration, not anger. Green blows out a short surprised exhale.
"You're not used to this, are you?" he says. "You've never had to learn something from scratch before."
Red gives a jerky shrug. "Pikachu wouldn't talk to me for the first three months," he says. "This is faster."
"But not easier," Green presses.
Red is silent for a moment and then sighs, irritated. "No."
"This is what everything felt like for me."
Red looks at him, leaning his weight back against his hands. There's a twist to his mouth, the dismissal that Green's so used to. He feels a flare of temper but stomps it back down.
"I was a gym leader for a year before I could talk to my pokémon like you. You could talk to Pikachu after you'd had him for three months." Red's eyes soften, and the lack of resistance makes Green pause. "I just...I've loved pokémon my whole life," he says. "Pokémon were all I thought about, and then here comes my best friend who just gets them, without studying, without even trying...I don't know. It's just weird to have our roles reversed."
Red doesn't say anything for a long moment. Green scratches at his cheek, trying not to frown.
"Are you happy that you can do something I can't?" Red asks.
Green stares at him. "Of course not."
"I wasn't either."
Green blinks rapidly. He tries to turn away but Red cranes around to follow him, maintaining eye contact.
"Am I really your best friend?" Red asks next.
"Who else would it be!" Green snaps, and now he really is blushing. He covers his face, but he still feels the heat of Red's gaze on his skin, like sunlight.
When he speaks again, Red's voice is softer. "Even after all this time?"
"Who else would it be," Green repeats, barely louder than a mumble. He doesn't resist when Red reaches out to pull his hand away from his mouth, one finger at a time.
"Me too," Red says, and the surprise in his voice can't mask its honesty.
--
Leaf visits like always, though it's two weeks before she comes in like usual. "I don't want to, you know. Intrude," she says, her eyes flicking over Green's shoulder when she hears Nidorina's short bark of approval.
Green raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "You always barged in before."
"Yeah...but Red's, you know. Famous."
"So am I," Green points out.
"For your horrible fashion sense, maybe," she retorts, but she's too distracted for her words to have any bite.
Green sighs and reaches for her wrist. "Just think of him as your roommate," he says. "I mean, you live in his old room now, don't you?"
"That's even worse," Leaf complains, but she doesn't resist when Green pulls her inside. He herds her toward the kitchen and she leans against the counter, arm folded across her body to tap her nails against the opposite elbow. Green grabs the kettle off the stove and fills it with water from the sink. "Hey, Red," he calls, "this is my friend Leaf."
Red looks up from the weights he's lifting and Leaf cracks a smile, giving him a little wave.
"It's, uh, nice to meet you!" Leaf says. "Your mom's told me a lot about you."
Red's forehead shines with sweat, and his breath is a little fast as he hands the weights to Nidorina and gets to his feet. "Hi," he says. "Do you like pokémon?"
"I love pokémon," Leaf says, eyes lighting up. "I help Professor Oak with his PokéDex sometimes. I heard you came from Hoenn? Did you find any new pokémon there?"
Red nods and breaks into a smile, a genuine one that makes him look ten years younger. He leaves the living room with an unusual hurry in his step and returns with a battered PokéDex in his hands, the only possession that survived his ocean trek.
Red's physical therapist looks at Nidorina and then at Green before bursting into laughter. "Maybe we should come back tomorrow?"
"Yeah, probably," Green agrees.
Leaf shakes her head. "Wait, no, I didn't want to interrupt anything—" but then Red shoves his PokéDex into her hands and turns it on.
Green walks the physical therapist to the door, giving Nidorina a pat on the head before they go. "Sorry," he says.
"No, don't be," ze says, grinning. "Friendship is an important part of recovery, too."
Green returns to the living room and finds Leaf scrolling through the map on her own PokéDex, showing Red the pokémon spawn locations that have changed over the last thirteen years. Green fetches his old, battered town map and spreads it across the floor so they won't have to squint at such a small screen. The three of them hover over it, pointing out various places and talking about the pokémon they've seen there.
Red points at Mt. Silver, half-obscured at the side of the Kanto-only map. "I trained there," he says. Green looks at him, startled, remembering when Ethan told him about a powerful trainer years ago.
"Ooh, we don't know too much about the mountain," Leaf says, not noticing the look on Green's face. "The pokémon there are too strong! What was it like?"
Red nods. "Quiet," he says. "I liked it. Blastoise had trouble with the cold at first."
"You were that close by?" Green says.
Red looks up, frowning at the sharpness in his voice. He shrugs. "Not for long."
"Did your mom know?"
"I told Professor Oak." He looks at Green without flinching, watching the expressions play across his face. "He wanted to know about the diamond dust. I asked him not to tell anyone."
Leaf glances back and forth, frowning at the sudden tension. "Um. I'm going to make some more tea," she says, and retreats to the kitchen.
"You could have visited while you were there," Green says once Leaf is gone. "Or did that not even occur to you?"
Red's eyes flick down. "You didn't want to see me."
"Sure, make it my fault," Green snaps. He starts to get up but is stopped by Red's hand on his arm. He freezes in place, thigh muscles protesting, before he settles back onto the ground.
Red licks his lips and bites the tip of his tongue, his eyes scanning back and forth as he searches for the right words. "You were angry," he says. "I was angry too. But I didn't want to fight anymore." Red's last words are a low mumble. "I didn't want to make you cry again."
Green scrubs a hand across his face, making a low frustrated sound. "I thought you hated me," he says. "I thought you'd finally had enough of me."
Red's grip slackens until his hand falls back into his lap. "Me too," Red whispers.
In the kitchen, the kettle begins a plaintive whistle. Green hesitates, then sways sideways to rest his shoulder against Red's. Unlike the weeks of rehabilitation, this touch has no excuse to hide behind. Red breathes sharply but doesn't pull away.
"I still want to yell at you," Green mumbles. "But what's the point? I...I'm tired of being angry."
Red nods. He tilts his head towards Green until their temples are touching, his eyes focused on the middle distance—his listening look.
"I'm glad you came back.”
"I wanted to," Red says.
Green's voice softens even more. "I missed you."
He can hear the tiny, quiet noise as Red swallows. "Yeah."
"What kind of tea do you want?" Leaf calls too-loudly from the kitchen, and they break apart. There's a look on Red's face that he’s never seen before, soft and knowing, and it makes Green's heart pound.
"Um, the usual," Green answers, his voice only wavering a little. "Red likes apple."
Red follows Green to the kitchen. The conversation returns to lighter topics—changes to the Safari Zone, the newly christened S.S. Anne II. Halfway through the conversation Red's fingers migrate across the counter to tap on the back of Green's hand, a deliberate arrhythmic pattern. Green doesn't try to pull away.
Leaf notices and catches Green's eye for a long moment. Green inclines his head—half acknowledgement, half challenge—and his shoulders relax when she smiles.
--
According to the physical therapist, Red gets better at an alarming rate. It takes less than the month the doctors predicted before Red is training with his pokémon again, though their exercises have been modified by the physical therapist.
Red doesn't need to use the cane anymore. He steps outside under his own power, tugging his cap straight on his head. The air is humid and hot, the sky overcast. Green follows a moment later, not bothering to lock the door behind them.
His awareness of Red's body hasn't faded, even though Red doesn't need much support anymore. "How're you feeling?" he asks.
"I want to see where you found me," Red replies.
Green's smile drops but Red keeps staring, his face as calm and serious as always. Green's eyes flicker toward the cliff face and the glimpse of the ocean beyond it.
"The way down is narrow and kind of rough," Green says. "You'll have to be careful."
It takes twice as long as usual to get to the isolated beach. Red goes first so Green can pull him back if he slips, but he finds his caution baseless. Red has become accustomed to his current stamina and paces himself well. Pikachu and Eevee reach the bottom far ahead of them and Red pauses often to watch them play, as if the sight encourages him to continue.
Green watches him take careful handholds of the rock face. He recognizes a few of the grips from rock climbing, but it’s clear that Red knows way more than Green ever learned on his hiking trips with Brock.
"You traveled a lot, huh?"
Red casts him a flat look over his shoulder.
"I don't know, I mean," Green amends. "I knew you were in Hoenn and that you visited Johto but I never really...I guess it didn't hit me until just now. Were you traveling the whole time? All thirteen years?"
Red pauses, knees bent for stability with one hand gripping the rock wall. "It didn't seem that long," he murmurs.
When they reach the beach, their leisurely pace lingers. Green hasn't visited the shore since he found Red, and he can't stop glancing over his shoulder as the lighthouse dwindles into the distance.
"Where else did you go?" Green asks. The question roils his stomach with nerves, but he wants Red’s answer more than the comfort of ignorance.
Red hunches his shoulders. The wind whips off the ocean, making his collar flutter around his neck. "All over," he says. "Sinnoh. Faraway Island. Orre." Ahead of them Eevee leaps into the surf, going under briefly before popping up again. She shakes her head and mane with a happy cry. Pikachu lingers on the shore, looking back at Red.
"I learned a lot," Red adds.
They pause so Green can kneel down and take off his shoes and socks. Like Eevee, he feels better once the shock of cold water splashes against his skin. "I traveled too, you know," Green says.
Red nods. "I heard about you sometimes. I was glad you got to visit Kalos. You were always trying to speak French when we were kids."
Green groans. "Don't remind me. My accent’s terrible, but at least I can kind of speak it now."
Now Red looks interested. "Yeah?"
Green rolls his eyes. "Oui," he says, "and that's all the French you're getting out of me, so don't fish for any more."
Red's eyelids droop with mock disappointment, but he's smiling.
They slip into silence, listening to the ocean rush across the beach. Eevee rides the surf back in and runs to Green, shaking water in sheets from her fur. Pikachu, still dry, hops into Red's arms, and the three of them follow as Eevee leads the way.
After another five minutes of walking, Eevee sits down at Green's feet. Green stops and clears his throat.
"It was here," he says, looking down at the ground.
Red pauses beside him. It takes Green a few moments to sift through the bone-deep fear that rattles him like a passing train. The memories flood back: the cold weight in his hands, the soaked and tattered cloth. But he takes a deep breath, and the moment passes.
He feels Eevee leaning against his ankles, purring, still damp. He looks up to find Red gazing across the water, mouth pressed into a thin line. Red looks down at the sand, where Eevee is, before turning to the weathered cliff at their back. Nothing differentiates this place from the rest of the beach, except...
Red walks forward until the ocean soaks into his sneakers, though he doesn't seem to mind. Pikachu flicks his long ears once before huddling further into Red's arms, one eye peeking warily at the ocean. Green doesn't move beside Red this time. The sight of him silhouetted against the sea makes fear close his throat, but he only straightens his shoulders in response.
After a few minutes Red turns to him and nods. "Let's go back."
"Yeah," Green answers, voice catching halfway through.
Red's expression flickers from concern to realization. He walks towards Green until Pikachu takes up the only space between them, until they're breathing each other's air.
"Red," Green starts, but he doesn't know what to say. He's still not used to the intensity of Red's gaze. It used to anger him, but now it makes him blush.
They maintain eye contact, awkwardly in each other's space, until Green says, "Hey, wait. Are you taller than me now?"
Red leans back, blinking. He shifts Pikachu to one arm and raises a hand to the top of his head, then brings it across towards Green. It barely brushes Green's spiky hair.
"Oh my god," Green hisses, "you are."
Green slaps Red's hand away and lunges forward, chasing him down the beach, shouting incoherent threats as Red grins. They slow when Red stops to catch his breath and Green pulls up beside him, his last swing changed to a heavy thump against his back.
"Let's go home," Green says, echoing Red. "It's hot and I could use some water."
"Yeah," Red agrees, hands braced against his knees and his shoulders heaving. He looks up at Green, bright-eyed and smiling, and Green can't help but grin back.
--
"This is about business," Professor Oak's phone call begins. The statement abates Green's nerves some, but not much.
"Sure," he replies, then clears his throat. "What's up, Gramps?"
"I don't know how up to date you are with the latest research, but several studies indicate that many pokémon’s migration patterns are shifting due to climate change." His voice adopts the dry lecturer's tone that always makes Green sleepy. "We're seeing some pokémon here we've never seen before. In particular, the tynamo spawning grounds have moved just offshore of Pallet Town."
Green blinks. "Yeah, I heard the fishermen in town talking about that. Eelektross are pretty cool; I mean, a pokémon with no type weaknesses? I've always thought about training one."
"That dovetails nicely with my question, actually," Professor Oak says, voice brightening. "We're gathering a research team to survey the surrounding ocean and I thought, well, you're the lighthouse keeper now, which makes you a leading expert on the Pallet shoreline. I was hoping you’d join me on this project, to protect my research team. You'd be able to get a closer look at the eelektross you're interested in, as well."
Green doesn't respond for a long moment.
"Green? You still there?"
"Yeah! Yeah, I'm here. I just...well, honestly, I'm kind of surprised you'd ask me at all."
"Of course I'd ask you, Green," Professor Oak says. He sounds surprised and a little sad. "You're one of the top trainers in Kanto."
There's an uncomfortable pause until Green clears his throat. "Eelektross are pretty territorial, right? Monsoon season's coming, too—the weather will boost their power and give them an advantage."
"Yes, it’s dangerous, but researchers have been trying to understand the eelektross life cycle for two hundred and fifty years!" Professor Oak insists. "It’s the chance of a lifetime. We're collaborating with several research teams but my team is heading the project, of course."
"Of course," Green repeats, voice dry.
"We know the risks," Professor Oak says soberly. "That's why I'm asking for your help, Green. I know I can count on you to keep my researchers safe." Green doesn't say anything, so he continues, "I know your first duty is to the lighthouse, and you’d be doing this as a favor. If you don't want to, I understand."
Green bristles. "Hey, I never said I wouldn't."
"Really?" Professor Oak's voice softens. "You'll think about it?"
Green realizes what he's considering—helping his grandfather with a major project, when two months before he couldn't even look at him. He blows a disbelieving breath into the phone. "Yeah, Gramps. I mean, there’s not much I can do about a typhoon, but I'll think about it. Sounds like a hell of a trip, if nothing else."
"All right, then," Professor Oak replies. "I'd appreciate it, Green. Thank you."
"...I have to go cook dinner. Say hi to Daisy for me, all right?"
"I will. Talk to you soon?"
"Yeah. Talk to you soon, Gramps," he says, surprised he means it.
--
"You know," Green says, "you and Red look kind of similar."
A box of homemade pork buns sits on the bench between them. Leaf makes a face before she takes another bite.
"Please," she says. "I'm way cuter."
Green rolls his eyes. "No, it's—I don't know. Something about how you hold yourself. And you both like traveling."
"If I could look like anyone who liked traveling, I'd pick Cynthia," Leaf retorts. "Speaking of, did you see her photoshoot in Trainer’s Weekly? Her swimsuit is so cute."
"Do I look like the kind of person who reads gossip magazines?"
"Trainer's Weekly isn't a gossip magazine! They've even had articles about you, you know."
"Like I said," Green huffs. "Gossip."
Leaf rolls her eyes and bumps his shoulder with hers. "I'll ask Daisy to show you the photos later," she says. "Anyway, tell me more about Red. I guess you think he's as cute as me?"
Green snorts. "Cute isn't the first word I would think of, no."
"Handsome? Super hot?"
Green chokes on his next bite. Leaf helpfully pounds him on the back. When he can breathe again, he looks up to find Leaf grinning at him. In revenge, he swipes her drink and takes a few slurps to clear his throat, ignoring her protests.
"I don't know why you keep harping on this," he mutters.
"You're childhood friends, he's living in your house, Pikachu let you pet him yesterday—"
Green hisses at her to be quiet, glancing around to see if anyone is watching. No one is, of course; Green is a common sight in town these days. "It's fine like this," Green says with a tone of forced patience, the same tone he uses on himself when he feels his temper fraying. "Red's not going anywhere for a while, anyway."
Leaf looks at him. There's pity in her gaze now, and Green looks away, drumming his foot against the ground. "You think he's going to leave again?"
"Look, I don't want to think about it," Green sighs. "Can we talk about something else?"
Leaf gives him a knowing look and almost does what he wants. "You should come by the house," she says. "It must be hard for Red's mom, walking to the lighthouse all the time."
"Red goes to visit her sometimes now."
"I didn't say Red," she answers. "I said you should visit. Daisy comes on Thursdays for dinner. Red can come too, if he wants."
Green shuffles his feet. "Well, it's not like I can say no when you put it that way," he grumbles.
Leaf beams. "Bring dessert," she says, and gets to her feet. "Tell Red I said hi, okay?"
"Tell him yourself," he says, but Leaf just waves over her shoulder as she walks away.
--
Red leaves most of his food untouched again.
Green's hands hover for a beat before he picks up Red's plate. He doesn't look at Red, turning to set the dishes by the sink before returning for the glasses. In response, Red shoos Pikachu from his lap and stands to fetch the towel looped around the refrigerator handle.
"So do you just not like my cooking?" Green blurts out, pausing with a half-washed dish in his hands. "I mean, I'm not the most amazing cook or whatever, but I've never had any complaints from—" He pauses mid-sentence, realizing that the only people he's ever cooked for are people he was dating.
He clears his throat. "Just give it to me straight," he says instead. "You've never pulled your punches before."
Their backs are to each other, Green at the sink and Red standing over the kitchen table, wiping it down with slow, sure strokes. Lucy's light is already spearing through the twilight outside, and Green counts the time by its measured blinks. Eevee is up there with her, paws against the glass as she watches the sunset; it's her favorite place in the evening.
The silence feels like a weight on Green's shoulders. He drops a handful of clean silverware onto the drying mat, and the chiming of metal cuts through the room.
"It doesn't taste bad," Red murmurs. "I can't eat a lot of it."
"What's wrong with it?"
Red falls quiet again. Green closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before picking up another plate.
"Mom invited us for dinner," Red says. It's not exactly a deflection; Red is talking around the topic, as he does when searching for the right words. "I don't know if I can eat that either."
"Huh." Green sets the plate on the drying mat with much more care than the silverware. He remembers Red was a picky eater when they were young. "Is it your stomach?"
Green turns from the sink in time to see Red's quick shrug and the uncertain twist of his mouth.
"But my food tastes okay?" Green presses.
Red rolls his eyes. "It's fine."
It's faint praise, but Green feels better anyway.
--
"Oh, Green," Red's mother says, voice tinged with laughter. "You made pasta with cream sauce? There's no way Red could eat that. It's too heavy. Here, I'll teach you something he can eat."
She hands him rough-skinned taro, calls it bongkukan, and teaches him to peel it under warm running water so the stinging oxalate crystals don't stick to his skin. She simmers a fish head to make the broth and drops in heaping handfuls of bok choy, diced onions and chunks of ginger, chopped-up green beans that were once as long as his forearm, narrow eggplants and lemon slices. "It's not quite authentic, but Red likes it anyway," she says.
"How'd you learn to make this?" Green asks, his mouth watering from the amazing smell that wafts from the pot. Red's mother gives him an amused look.
"Everyone back home knows how to make sinigang," she says. "It's what the poor people eat. But it's healthy, and the fish we get here is fresh from the ocean, so that makes it taste very good."
The stew is sour and savory all at once, perfectly matched by the rice it's poured over. Red eats two bowls, but Green doesn't feel slighted because he does too. He's sitting by Daisy and Red is beside his mom, and their eyes lock over the table. Red's eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the food. He picks out pieces of fish and slips them to Pikachu under the table, and it's such an old habit that no one mentions it. (In polite company, Eevee is too well-mannered to beg for scraps, as Pikachu does; she sniffs in the direction of Green's bowl and then waits for her meal later in the kitchen.)
"You know," Green says, "You came here so long ago I forgot you're not from here."
Daisy shoots him a look as if he's said something rude, which, upon second thought, he...kind of did. He winces, but Red's mom is already answering him.
"I always thought it was such good luck when we moved here and found another boy Red's age," she says. "You and your family always went out of your way to make my son feel welcome. It made me feel welcome, too." She beams at him. "I may not have been born in Kanto, but it's my home now. I'm sure Red feels the same."
Green looks at Red, thinking about thirteen years of travel. Red pops another bite of sinigang into his mouth and reaches for Pikachu, running his fingers between his large ears, not flinching at the hello spark Pikachu sends in return. Red traveled the world, yes, but his pokémon are all from Kanto; he took them with him everywhere he went. He nearly killed himself trying to get back to Pallet. He's shown no sign of restlessness in the time he's been here.
"Do you think you're going to stay for a while?" Green asks. The table falls into a hush, but Red doesn't notice. He finishes chewing, swallows, and then meets Green's gaze.
He nods once, sharply, then goes back to eating. Green lets out a surprised breath, feeling his fists unclench.
// written March 2017 to April 2017
Illustration by Ciura // Full Size
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,957 (this chapter); ~32k (total)
Genre: Romance, Drama, Character Study
Fandom: Pokémon
Pairings: Green/Red, background and implied pairings, a lot of gen
Warnings: This chapter- trauma recovery both emotional and physical, abuse survivors, nonbinary original characters
Summary: Sometimes the sea itself is a gift. Sometimes the gift is something it brings you.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Fic Tag
AO3 Mirror. FFN Mirror. French Translation.
When I hesitate to hold your hand,
it is because to know is to be responsible for knowing.
—Mindy Nettifee
No one is waiting for Red in Pallet. They didn't announce his discharge date, and their families are returning from Saffron at a more sedate pace. When Green and Red teleport into the center of town, it's empty.
Red looks around from his seat in the wheelchair, squinting from the sun. After a moment, he lifts his hand to cast shade across his face.
"Miss your hat, huh," Green says.
Red doesn't reply.
Green is standing ready behind the wheelchair, but Red's in no hurry, so Green supposes he isn't either. Instead he watches Red as he looks around, surveying thirteen years of change. Viridian is close enough to Pallet that Green kept up with the modifications: new paint on the window shutters, the mailbox Daisy put up three years ago, the bench that was installed after the lighthouse was built. The heart of town is largely untouched, but Pallet is larger than even two years ago, swelling with new construction that has pushed the town limits outward. As children, the tall grass brushed their ankles as they played in their backyards, but now trainers have a much longer walk to reach Route 1.
"Well," Green tries again, "welcome home."
Red is still silent. He looks toward the lighthouse, its white paint brilliant in the mid-afternoon sunlight, interrupting the clear line of sight to the ocean that Green remembered as a child.
"Yeah, that's where I live," he says, pointing. "You too I guess, at least for now. Do you wanna check it out?"
Red stares at the lighthouse without answering. The humidity creeps beneath Green's collar, and he drums his fingers against the wheelchair's plastic handles. Patiently, Green waits a full sixty seconds before he sighs and nudges the wheelchair a bit. The brakes are locked so it only rocks forward a little, but it's enough to make Red jump and turn to stare at Green.
"Yeah, hi," Green says, "it's me, the person you've been ignoring for the last five minutes. Can we go inside? Teleporting always takes it out of me and I'd like to go home."
Red frowns, his hand falling from his forehead to pinch at the brim of a hat that isn't there; then he catches himself. He twists in his chair until he finds and unlocks the brakes.
"Great," Green sighs. "All aboard the lighthouse express."
He pushes Red up the long hill. Green's not out of shape, and Red's underweight from his hospital stay, but Green is still panting by the time they reach the front door. He swings it open and nudges Red inside, hissing as the wheels catch on the carpet.
"I should've asked for hardwood," he grumbles, shoving at the wheelchair until it's parked next to the sofa. "You thirsty?"
Red shakes his head no but Green brings him a glass of water anyway, remembering that Red always wanted ice. He sets the glasses on the coffee table and flops onto the sofa with a sigh.
"So..." he says, pausing to clear his throat. "This is the living room, kitchen's over there, bathroom's there, your bedroom's over there with mine right next to it," he says, pointing. "The beacon room's upstairs. I set up your room, though it's not like you had much."
The room slips into strained silence until Green's restless hands brush the strange poké ball at his belt. "Oh," he says, letting Eevee out. Immediately she licks Green's nose and then bounds off the sofa to greet Red, hopping into his lap and nuzzling his cheek.
He smiles, and it's his first real expression since they arrived. Red pets her in all her favorite spots, and Green wonders if it's because he remembers or because he's so good at reading pokémon.
"You'll be able to see Pikachu later, too," Green says. "Gramps says he'll bring him over."
Red's hands twitch in Eevee's fur. He gives Green the same look he's been casting ever since he woke up: something between suspicion and confusion, as if trying to suss out an ulterior motive. Green bristles when he sees it but refuses, this time, to be the one to break the truce.
"I'm gonna tell Lucy we're back. Holler if you need me, I guess," he says, but Red doesn't respond. He only nods and returns to petting Eevee.
Green sighs and climbs the staircase, whistling for Lucy.
--
Physical therapy works with Red three hours a day, six days a week. Red is always out of breath, and he wears Green's clothes until his mother buys things that fit—when he came home, all she had were boxes full of an eleven-year-old's things. When Green does the laundry those first few weeks, he's disoriented by the foreign scent that clings to familiar fabric.
Red works at tossing large inflatable balls back and forth, or trying to hold his arms in place as the therapist's nidorina gently pulls against them. Sometimes all he does is stand up, wobbling as his trunk muscles relearn how to hold his own weight, while the physical therapist and Nidorina form a protective ring around him. It's hard to notice progress from day to day, but as weeks pass, he does get stronger.
The air turns humid as the rainy season looms. The physical therapist takes advantage of the last few days of good weather to work with Red outside when possible, saying the ocean air is invigorating. When Green heads into town, Eevee always knows when to turn back and help take Red inside, which makes Green wonder just how good her vision really is.
"It's Nidorina," the therapist tells him, grinning, when Green asks. "She waves at your eevee and the sun flashes off her poison barbs." After that, Green squints when Eevee starts running back to the lighthouse and sees a scattered gleaming in the distance.
Nidorina gets along well with their pokémon: play-wrestling with Pikachu, combing claws through Eevee's fur, high-fiving Green's machamp. But Green built his life around pokémon and their body language, and he sees how carefully she restrains herself. He looks at her more closely and finds faint scars all across her hide.
"She's a rescue pokémon," the physical therapist explains when ze catches Green staring for the fifth or sixth time. "She was part of a fighting ring the police busted. I work with pokémon, too—that's how we met. I wasn't looking for a partner, but life has a strange way, you know?" Ze presses a kind hand against Nidorina's head and she lifts her chin to nose against it, whuffling. "She only knew how to fight, but now she knows lots of other things, too. I like bringing her to work with patients because she reminds them anything can be overcome. You just have to work hard."
Nidorina teaches Green how to help Red move from place to place: bracing Red's knees with his own so he can't fall forward and slinging Red's forearms over his shoulders. The position brings them close together, as if they're dancing. Red's eyes rake across his face before they both look down at the floor to stay balanced. The position allows Green to take some of Red's weight and they pivot together, feet shuffling, until Red can sink down onto the sofa, or his bed, or a kitchen chair for breakfast. The touch is purely functional, the two of them focused on the effort of moving. Green grows accustomed to the sudden grip of Red's hand on his bicep, its strength slowly increasing as the days of physical therapy pass.
When he helps Red into bed, the hardest part is maneuvering him from a sitting position to a supine one. The first night it takes half an hour; Green ends up climbing into Red's bed close to the headboard and dragging him up the mattress until his head is roughly where the pillows should go, and the effort makes his back hurt for two days. The next day Machamp places him in bed, but Red looks so annoyed (and Pikachu sparks with such obvious jealousy) that they never do it again. When the therapist visits for the first time, ze teaches them the proper way to get someone into bed: Green swings Red's legs onto the mattress while Red turns his upper body, hands flailing as he tries to catch his weight against the bed and push himself. Pikachu jumps onto his chest as soon as he's settled, and both of them watch Green as he tucks a pillow under Red's head. Green always stares back; he's still not good at backing down, not really.
Green has never touched someone as much as this. The closest experience he has is when they wrestled as children, and even those memories were papered over with anger as they got older and the tussling changed to all-out fighting. Thinking back, he finds he can't remember many details. He remembers pushing with all his strength against what felt like an immovable object. He remembers that sometimes it hurt. But he doesn't remember what Red's skin felt like or how Red sounded when he laughed. He has no idea what to expect now, and no way to reconcile those memories with the new ease with which he enters Red's personal space and is never rebuffed.
Red whispers "Thank you" every time he's settled in a new position, his voice thin with exhaustion. "Don't mention it," Green replies. Still, Red continues thanking him until Green looks him in the eye and says, "No, seriously. Don't mention it."
Red lapses into his accustomed silence after that, but sometimes he holds onto Green for a moment longer than he has to. Green wonders if he remembers too, if he also feels the sensation of new exploration across once-familiar terrain.
Red graduates from the wheelchair and starts using a cane instead. Green starts being alert any time Red is on his feet, waiting for signs indicating he needs a shoulder to lean on or help to sit down. Red often overestimates himself and sometimes it leads to Green sliding him right onto the floor. He trembles as he grips Green's forearms, face flushed. He won't look at Green, keeping his narrowed eyes fixed on the kitchen tiles.
Green wiggles his arms until Red lets go. "Red," he says, "you've got to take it easy sometimes. This isn't a race."
Red's eyes flick up to his and Green recoils from the fury he sees there. But after a moment he realizes that he's mistaken—it's frustration, not anger. Green blows out a short surprised exhale.
"You're not used to this, are you?" he says. "You've never had to learn something from scratch before."
Red gives a jerky shrug. "Pikachu wouldn't talk to me for the first three months," he says. "This is faster."
"But not easier," Green presses.
Red is silent for a moment and then sighs, irritated. "No."
"This is what everything felt like for me."
Red looks at him, leaning his weight back against his hands. There's a twist to his mouth, the dismissal that Green's so used to. He feels a flare of temper but stomps it back down.
"I was a gym leader for a year before I could talk to my pokémon like you. You could talk to Pikachu after you'd had him for three months." Red's eyes soften, and the lack of resistance makes Green pause. "I just...I've loved pokémon my whole life," he says. "Pokémon were all I thought about, and then here comes my best friend who just gets them, without studying, without even trying...I don't know. It's just weird to have our roles reversed."
Red doesn't say anything for a long moment. Green scratches at his cheek, trying not to frown.
"Are you happy that you can do something I can't?" Red asks.
Green stares at him. "Of course not."
"I wasn't either."
Green blinks rapidly. He tries to turn away but Red cranes around to follow him, maintaining eye contact.
"Am I really your best friend?" Red asks next.
"Who else would it be!" Green snaps, and now he really is blushing. He covers his face, but he still feels the heat of Red's gaze on his skin, like sunlight.
When he speaks again, Red's voice is softer. "Even after all this time?"
"Who else would it be," Green repeats, barely louder than a mumble. He doesn't resist when Red reaches out to pull his hand away from his mouth, one finger at a time.
"Me too," Red says, and the surprise in his voice can't mask its honesty.
--
Leaf visits like always, though it's two weeks before she comes in like usual. "I don't want to, you know. Intrude," she says, her eyes flicking over Green's shoulder when she hears Nidorina's short bark of approval.
Green raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "You always barged in before."
"Yeah...but Red's, you know. Famous."
"So am I," Green points out.
"For your horrible fashion sense, maybe," she retorts, but she's too distracted for her words to have any bite.
Green sighs and reaches for her wrist. "Just think of him as your roommate," he says. "I mean, you live in his old room now, don't you?"
"That's even worse," Leaf complains, but she doesn't resist when Green pulls her inside. He herds her toward the kitchen and she leans against the counter, arm folded across her body to tap her nails against the opposite elbow. Green grabs the kettle off the stove and fills it with water from the sink. "Hey, Red," he calls, "this is my friend Leaf."
Red looks up from the weights he's lifting and Leaf cracks a smile, giving him a little wave.
"It's, uh, nice to meet you!" Leaf says. "Your mom's told me a lot about you."
Red's forehead shines with sweat, and his breath is a little fast as he hands the weights to Nidorina and gets to his feet. "Hi," he says. "Do you like pokémon?"
"I love pokémon," Leaf says, eyes lighting up. "I help Professor Oak with his PokéDex sometimes. I heard you came from Hoenn? Did you find any new pokémon there?"
Red nods and breaks into a smile, a genuine one that makes him look ten years younger. He leaves the living room with an unusual hurry in his step and returns with a battered PokéDex in his hands, the only possession that survived his ocean trek.
Red's physical therapist looks at Nidorina and then at Green before bursting into laughter. "Maybe we should come back tomorrow?"
"Yeah, probably," Green agrees.
Leaf shakes her head. "Wait, no, I didn't want to interrupt anything—" but then Red shoves his PokéDex into her hands and turns it on.
Green walks the physical therapist to the door, giving Nidorina a pat on the head before they go. "Sorry," he says.
"No, don't be," ze says, grinning. "Friendship is an important part of recovery, too."
Green returns to the living room and finds Leaf scrolling through the map on her own PokéDex, showing Red the pokémon spawn locations that have changed over the last thirteen years. Green fetches his old, battered town map and spreads it across the floor so they won't have to squint at such a small screen. The three of them hover over it, pointing out various places and talking about the pokémon they've seen there.
Red points at Mt. Silver, half-obscured at the side of the Kanto-only map. "I trained there," he says. Green looks at him, startled, remembering when Ethan told him about a powerful trainer years ago.
"Ooh, we don't know too much about the mountain," Leaf says, not noticing the look on Green's face. "The pokémon there are too strong! What was it like?"
Red nods. "Quiet," he says. "I liked it. Blastoise had trouble with the cold at first."
"You were that close by?" Green says.
Red looks up, frowning at the sharpness in his voice. He shrugs. "Not for long."
"Did your mom know?"
"I told Professor Oak." He looks at Green without flinching, watching the expressions play across his face. "He wanted to know about the diamond dust. I asked him not to tell anyone."
Leaf glances back and forth, frowning at the sudden tension. "Um. I'm going to make some more tea," she says, and retreats to the kitchen.
"You could have visited while you were there," Green says once Leaf is gone. "Or did that not even occur to you?"
Red's eyes flick down. "You didn't want to see me."
"Sure, make it my fault," Green snaps. He starts to get up but is stopped by Red's hand on his arm. He freezes in place, thigh muscles protesting, before he settles back onto the ground.
Red licks his lips and bites the tip of his tongue, his eyes scanning back and forth as he searches for the right words. "You were angry," he says. "I was angry too. But I didn't want to fight anymore." Red's last words are a low mumble. "I didn't want to make you cry again."
Green scrubs a hand across his face, making a low frustrated sound. "I thought you hated me," he says. "I thought you'd finally had enough of me."
Red's grip slackens until his hand falls back into his lap. "Me too," Red whispers.
In the kitchen, the kettle begins a plaintive whistle. Green hesitates, then sways sideways to rest his shoulder against Red's. Unlike the weeks of rehabilitation, this touch has no excuse to hide behind. Red breathes sharply but doesn't pull away.
"I still want to yell at you," Green mumbles. "But what's the point? I...I'm tired of being angry."
Red nods. He tilts his head towards Green until their temples are touching, his eyes focused on the middle distance—his listening look.
"I'm glad you came back.”
"I wanted to," Red says.
Green's voice softens even more. "I missed you."
He can hear the tiny, quiet noise as Red swallows. "Yeah."
"What kind of tea do you want?" Leaf calls too-loudly from the kitchen, and they break apart. There's a look on Red's face that he’s never seen before, soft and knowing, and it makes Green's heart pound.
"Um, the usual," Green answers, his voice only wavering a little. "Red likes apple."
Red follows Green to the kitchen. The conversation returns to lighter topics—changes to the Safari Zone, the newly christened S.S. Anne II. Halfway through the conversation Red's fingers migrate across the counter to tap on the back of Green's hand, a deliberate arrhythmic pattern. Green doesn't try to pull away.
Leaf notices and catches Green's eye for a long moment. Green inclines his head—half acknowledgement, half challenge—and his shoulders relax when she smiles.
--
According to the physical therapist, Red gets better at an alarming rate. It takes less than the month the doctors predicted before Red is training with his pokémon again, though their exercises have been modified by the physical therapist.
Red doesn't need to use the cane anymore. He steps outside under his own power, tugging his cap straight on his head. The air is humid and hot, the sky overcast. Green follows a moment later, not bothering to lock the door behind them.
His awareness of Red's body hasn't faded, even though Red doesn't need much support anymore. "How're you feeling?" he asks.
"I want to see where you found me," Red replies.
Green's smile drops but Red keeps staring, his face as calm and serious as always. Green's eyes flicker toward the cliff face and the glimpse of the ocean beyond it.
"The way down is narrow and kind of rough," Green says. "You'll have to be careful."
It takes twice as long as usual to get to the isolated beach. Red goes first so Green can pull him back if he slips, but he finds his caution baseless. Red has become accustomed to his current stamina and paces himself well. Pikachu and Eevee reach the bottom far ahead of them and Red pauses often to watch them play, as if the sight encourages him to continue.
Green watches him take careful handholds of the rock face. He recognizes a few of the grips from rock climbing, but it’s clear that Red knows way more than Green ever learned on his hiking trips with Brock.
"You traveled a lot, huh?"
Red casts him a flat look over his shoulder.
"I don't know, I mean," Green amends. "I knew you were in Hoenn and that you visited Johto but I never really...I guess it didn't hit me until just now. Were you traveling the whole time? All thirteen years?"
Red pauses, knees bent for stability with one hand gripping the rock wall. "It didn't seem that long," he murmurs.
When they reach the beach, their leisurely pace lingers. Green hasn't visited the shore since he found Red, and he can't stop glancing over his shoulder as the lighthouse dwindles into the distance.
"Where else did you go?" Green asks. The question roils his stomach with nerves, but he wants Red’s answer more than the comfort of ignorance.
Red hunches his shoulders. The wind whips off the ocean, making his collar flutter around his neck. "All over," he says. "Sinnoh. Faraway Island. Orre." Ahead of them Eevee leaps into the surf, going under briefly before popping up again. She shakes her head and mane with a happy cry. Pikachu lingers on the shore, looking back at Red.
"I learned a lot," Red adds.
They pause so Green can kneel down and take off his shoes and socks. Like Eevee, he feels better once the shock of cold water splashes against his skin. "I traveled too, you know," Green says.
Red nods. "I heard about you sometimes. I was glad you got to visit Kalos. You were always trying to speak French when we were kids."
Green groans. "Don't remind me. My accent’s terrible, but at least I can kind of speak it now."
Now Red looks interested. "Yeah?"
Green rolls his eyes. "Oui," he says, "and that's all the French you're getting out of me, so don't fish for any more."
Red's eyelids droop with mock disappointment, but he's smiling.
They slip into silence, listening to the ocean rush across the beach. Eevee rides the surf back in and runs to Green, shaking water in sheets from her fur. Pikachu, still dry, hops into Red's arms, and the three of them follow as Eevee leads the way.
After another five minutes of walking, Eevee sits down at Green's feet. Green stops and clears his throat.
"It was here," he says, looking down at the ground.
Red pauses beside him. It takes Green a few moments to sift through the bone-deep fear that rattles him like a passing train. The memories flood back: the cold weight in his hands, the soaked and tattered cloth. But he takes a deep breath, and the moment passes.
He feels Eevee leaning against his ankles, purring, still damp. He looks up to find Red gazing across the water, mouth pressed into a thin line. Red looks down at the sand, where Eevee is, before turning to the weathered cliff at their back. Nothing differentiates this place from the rest of the beach, except...
Red walks forward until the ocean soaks into his sneakers, though he doesn't seem to mind. Pikachu flicks his long ears once before huddling further into Red's arms, one eye peeking warily at the ocean. Green doesn't move beside Red this time. The sight of him silhouetted against the sea makes fear close his throat, but he only straightens his shoulders in response.
After a few minutes Red turns to him and nods. "Let's go back."
"Yeah," Green answers, voice catching halfway through.
Red's expression flickers from concern to realization. He walks towards Green until Pikachu takes up the only space between them, until they're breathing each other's air.
"Red," Green starts, but he doesn't know what to say. He's still not used to the intensity of Red's gaze. It used to anger him, but now it makes him blush.
They maintain eye contact, awkwardly in each other's space, until Green says, "Hey, wait. Are you taller than me now?"
Red leans back, blinking. He shifts Pikachu to one arm and raises a hand to the top of his head, then brings it across towards Green. It barely brushes Green's spiky hair.
"Oh my god," Green hisses, "you are."
Green slaps Red's hand away and lunges forward, chasing him down the beach, shouting incoherent threats as Red grins. They slow when Red stops to catch his breath and Green pulls up beside him, his last swing changed to a heavy thump against his back.
"Let's go home," Green says, echoing Red. "It's hot and I could use some water."
"Yeah," Red agrees, hands braced against his knees and his shoulders heaving. He looks up at Green, bright-eyed and smiling, and Green can't help but grin back.
--
"This is about business," Professor Oak's phone call begins. The statement abates Green's nerves some, but not much.
"Sure," he replies, then clears his throat. "What's up, Gramps?"
"I don't know how up to date you are with the latest research, but several studies indicate that many pokémon’s migration patterns are shifting due to climate change." His voice adopts the dry lecturer's tone that always makes Green sleepy. "We're seeing some pokémon here we've never seen before. In particular, the tynamo spawning grounds have moved just offshore of Pallet Town."
Green blinks. "Yeah, I heard the fishermen in town talking about that. Eelektross are pretty cool; I mean, a pokémon with no type weaknesses? I've always thought about training one."
"That dovetails nicely with my question, actually," Professor Oak says, voice brightening. "We're gathering a research team to survey the surrounding ocean and I thought, well, you're the lighthouse keeper now, which makes you a leading expert on the Pallet shoreline. I was hoping you’d join me on this project, to protect my research team. You'd be able to get a closer look at the eelektross you're interested in, as well."
Green doesn't respond for a long moment.
"Green? You still there?"
"Yeah! Yeah, I'm here. I just...well, honestly, I'm kind of surprised you'd ask me at all."
"Of course I'd ask you, Green," Professor Oak says. He sounds surprised and a little sad. "You're one of the top trainers in Kanto."
There's an uncomfortable pause until Green clears his throat. "Eelektross are pretty territorial, right? Monsoon season's coming, too—the weather will boost their power and give them an advantage."
"Yes, it’s dangerous, but researchers have been trying to understand the eelektross life cycle for two hundred and fifty years!" Professor Oak insists. "It’s the chance of a lifetime. We're collaborating with several research teams but my team is heading the project, of course."
"Of course," Green repeats, voice dry.
"We know the risks," Professor Oak says soberly. "That's why I'm asking for your help, Green. I know I can count on you to keep my researchers safe." Green doesn't say anything, so he continues, "I know your first duty is to the lighthouse, and you’d be doing this as a favor. If you don't want to, I understand."
Green bristles. "Hey, I never said I wouldn't."
"Really?" Professor Oak's voice softens. "You'll think about it?"
Green realizes what he's considering—helping his grandfather with a major project, when two months before he couldn't even look at him. He blows a disbelieving breath into the phone. "Yeah, Gramps. I mean, there’s not much I can do about a typhoon, but I'll think about it. Sounds like a hell of a trip, if nothing else."
"All right, then," Professor Oak replies. "I'd appreciate it, Green. Thank you."
"...I have to go cook dinner. Say hi to Daisy for me, all right?"
"I will. Talk to you soon?"
"Yeah. Talk to you soon, Gramps," he says, surprised he means it.
--
"You know," Green says, "you and Red look kind of similar."
A box of homemade pork buns sits on the bench between them. Leaf makes a face before she takes another bite.
"Please," she says. "I'm way cuter."
Green rolls his eyes. "No, it's—I don't know. Something about how you hold yourself. And you both like traveling."
"If I could look like anyone who liked traveling, I'd pick Cynthia," Leaf retorts. "Speaking of, did you see her photoshoot in Trainer’s Weekly? Her swimsuit is so cute."
"Do I look like the kind of person who reads gossip magazines?"
"Trainer's Weekly isn't a gossip magazine! They've even had articles about you, you know."
"Like I said," Green huffs. "Gossip."
Leaf rolls her eyes and bumps his shoulder with hers. "I'll ask Daisy to show you the photos later," she says. "Anyway, tell me more about Red. I guess you think he's as cute as me?"
Green snorts. "Cute isn't the first word I would think of, no."
"Handsome? Super hot?"
Green chokes on his next bite. Leaf helpfully pounds him on the back. When he can breathe again, he looks up to find Leaf grinning at him. In revenge, he swipes her drink and takes a few slurps to clear his throat, ignoring her protests.
"I don't know why you keep harping on this," he mutters.
"You're childhood friends, he's living in your house, Pikachu let you pet him yesterday—"
Green hisses at her to be quiet, glancing around to see if anyone is watching. No one is, of course; Green is a common sight in town these days. "It's fine like this," Green says with a tone of forced patience, the same tone he uses on himself when he feels his temper fraying. "Red's not going anywhere for a while, anyway."
Leaf looks at him. There's pity in her gaze now, and Green looks away, drumming his foot against the ground. "You think he's going to leave again?"
"Look, I don't want to think about it," Green sighs. "Can we talk about something else?"
Leaf gives him a knowing look and almost does what he wants. "You should come by the house," she says. "It must be hard for Red's mom, walking to the lighthouse all the time."
"Red goes to visit her sometimes now."
"I didn't say Red," she answers. "I said you should visit. Daisy comes on Thursdays for dinner. Red can come too, if he wants."
Green shuffles his feet. "Well, it's not like I can say no when you put it that way," he grumbles.
Leaf beams. "Bring dessert," she says, and gets to her feet. "Tell Red I said hi, okay?"
"Tell him yourself," he says, but Leaf just waves over her shoulder as she walks away.
--
Red leaves most of his food untouched again.
Green's hands hover for a beat before he picks up Red's plate. He doesn't look at Red, turning to set the dishes by the sink before returning for the glasses. In response, Red shoos Pikachu from his lap and stands to fetch the towel looped around the refrigerator handle.
"So do you just not like my cooking?" Green blurts out, pausing with a half-washed dish in his hands. "I mean, I'm not the most amazing cook or whatever, but I've never had any complaints from—" He pauses mid-sentence, realizing that the only people he's ever cooked for are people he was dating.
He clears his throat. "Just give it to me straight," he says instead. "You've never pulled your punches before."
Their backs are to each other, Green at the sink and Red standing over the kitchen table, wiping it down with slow, sure strokes. Lucy's light is already spearing through the twilight outside, and Green counts the time by its measured blinks. Eevee is up there with her, paws against the glass as she watches the sunset; it's her favorite place in the evening.
The silence feels like a weight on Green's shoulders. He drops a handful of clean silverware onto the drying mat, and the chiming of metal cuts through the room.
"It doesn't taste bad," Red murmurs. "I can't eat a lot of it."
"What's wrong with it?"
Red falls quiet again. Green closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before picking up another plate.
"Mom invited us for dinner," Red says. It's not exactly a deflection; Red is talking around the topic, as he does when searching for the right words. "I don't know if I can eat that either."
"Huh." Green sets the plate on the drying mat with much more care than the silverware. He remembers Red was a picky eater when they were young. "Is it your stomach?"
Green turns from the sink in time to see Red's quick shrug and the uncertain twist of his mouth.
"But my food tastes okay?" Green presses.
Red rolls his eyes. "It's fine."
It's faint praise, but Green feels better anyway.
--
"Oh, Green," Red's mother says, voice tinged with laughter. "You made pasta with cream sauce? There's no way Red could eat that. It's too heavy. Here, I'll teach you something he can eat."
She hands him rough-skinned taro, calls it bongkukan, and teaches him to peel it under warm running water so the stinging oxalate crystals don't stick to his skin. She simmers a fish head to make the broth and drops in heaping handfuls of bok choy, diced onions and chunks of ginger, chopped-up green beans that were once as long as his forearm, narrow eggplants and lemon slices. "It's not quite authentic, but Red likes it anyway," she says.
"How'd you learn to make this?" Green asks, his mouth watering from the amazing smell that wafts from the pot. Red's mother gives him an amused look.
"Everyone back home knows how to make sinigang," she says. "It's what the poor people eat. But it's healthy, and the fish we get here is fresh from the ocean, so that makes it taste very good."
The stew is sour and savory all at once, perfectly matched by the rice it's poured over. Red eats two bowls, but Green doesn't feel slighted because he does too. He's sitting by Daisy and Red is beside his mom, and their eyes lock over the table. Red's eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the food. He picks out pieces of fish and slips them to Pikachu under the table, and it's such an old habit that no one mentions it. (In polite company, Eevee is too well-mannered to beg for scraps, as Pikachu does; she sniffs in the direction of Green's bowl and then waits for her meal later in the kitchen.)
"You know," Green says, "You came here so long ago I forgot you're not from here."
Daisy shoots him a look as if he's said something rude, which, upon second thought, he...kind of did. He winces, but Red's mom is already answering him.
"I always thought it was such good luck when we moved here and found another boy Red's age," she says. "You and your family always went out of your way to make my son feel welcome. It made me feel welcome, too." She beams at him. "I may not have been born in Kanto, but it's my home now. I'm sure Red feels the same."
Green looks at Red, thinking about thirteen years of travel. Red pops another bite of sinigang into his mouth and reaches for Pikachu, running his fingers between his large ears, not flinching at the hello spark Pikachu sends in return. Red traveled the world, yes, but his pokémon are all from Kanto; he took them with him everywhere he went. He nearly killed himself trying to get back to Pallet. He's shown no sign of restlessness in the time he's been here.
"Do you think you're going to stay for a while?" Green asks. The table falls into a hush, but Red doesn't notice. He finishes chewing, swallows, and then meets Green's gaze.
He nods once, sharply, then goes back to eating. Green lets out a surprised breath, feeling his fists unclench.
// written March 2017 to April 2017
Illustration by Ciura // Full Size