Chapter Text
He was sitting in the kitchen, looking down at his small bowl of rice as his parents voices echoed from the room next to him.
They were fighting again.
It was beginning to become a common thing, especially after his dad had ğ̴̣͜o̴͓͈̓̄ń̷̡̛ę̵̾̊ ̴̯̐͠d̵̫̻͊̇r̸̞̊̄ͅḯ̵̹̭n̵̤͊̄ḳ̸̥̆̍ǐ̴̯͝n̵̝̈́̉g̸̓͜ ̵̠͚͐ŷ̸̲͙ò̶̜͉u̸͇̍̾ ̶̨̥̓k̸͙̄n̷̩̉̈o̷̗̓̈w̸̖̣̾ ̴͔̲̓͂i̵̡͒̚t̷̞͂ ̵̦͊͛ẙ̶̞̰o̶̟͉͒u̵͖͑͠ ̵̞̮̑c̶̦̏̆ȁ̴̢͎̍n̵̢̲̕ ̸̗͍̾s̴̡͇̀m̸̜̍̆ȇ̷̥l̷͈̈̀l̷͕͝ ̸͓̓t̵̗͂h̵̰̜͝͝é̵̺ ̸͈̒͠à̵͜l̵͓̪͋͑c̴̓̿͜o̸͚̟̾̋h̸͚̎o̴̯͇̐̿l̴̤̠͠ ̸̻̒̎o̸̹͕͌ṋ̵̲̑̈́ ̶̤͌̚ḧ̴̰̀i̷̯̫͒̚m̵̦̄ ̸͖͍͛͂w̶̗̭̅͐h̶̢̤́ě̵͔ņ̷͈̓ ̸͔̏ḧ̵͇̙́e̵̜͛̏͜ ̵̥̟͛͑w̶̧̐̂a̷̙͚͂̊l̷̠̮̀͂k̸̗̜̄͂s̸̛͖̱ ̶͓̈͊t̴̨͐̃h̴̪̩́̀r̵͔̄͜͝ǫ̵͠ú̶̬̪̕g̵̬̩͐͘ẖ̶̋ ̸̫̦̍̏t̷̳̾ḣ̸̢e̷̦̓̏ ̷̲͝d̷̻͇̅͝o̴̗̥͊̀o̶̺̗̒͝r̴̤̣̉ ̷̢̣̃â̵̦͂n̸͙̍d̶̢̥̐̎ ̵̹̗̈́̇w̶̦̄h̵͉̐͜e̷̘͝n̸̲̐̅ ̵̙̻͝h̸̲̄̾ȇ̷̳̇ ̴̧̀͠g̷̝̐̎ề̵̦̙t̷̖̺̆s̷͖̍ ̷̣̀̊ą̶̱̔ṅ̵̯͍̈g̵̟͔̋̓ŕ̶͇̥́y̶̱̖̆͌ ̴͔͗͠ͅa̸̲̿̚t̸̡͝ ̸͔̂̀y̴̝͝o̷͖̘͝ú̵̖̕ came home later into the night more often, or when his mom l̸̨̽ͅe̶̿͋ͅf̴̧̈͘ť̴͓̕ ̷͚̃̒h̵͚̚ĩ̶̞m̴̝̖̾̕ ̵̲͎͂́a̷̟͂l̵͙̘̈́o̶̘͌̚ṅ̵̯͜e̵̯͊̌ ̸͎̔a̷̪͆͆ͅl̵̡͖͛̓o̸̢̖̍n̷͇͒͝e̶̤̫̋ ̴̣̅a̸̘͋̾ḽ̴͉͑̽ő̷̤̜͊n̸̬̔ȩ̸̻͠ ̸͍̗̀̈a̵͎͙̍ĺ̴̙̝ö̶͇́n̴̻̖̈͘ē̵͔͝ ̴̗̻̔͝f̴͚̊o̶̙̤͒̕r̶̤͎͊̆ ̵̩̐̃h̶͇͛̄o̵̘̓͂u̵̢̽ŗ̴̱̇̓s̴̡̅͑ ̴̠̉ä̷̝́̆n̷͖͉̋̚d̶͇͒ ̴̟̎͊h̴̩̩͋ó̶̞̟̉ū̴̙̅r̷̡̔s̷̖̎̈ ̷̠̋̾a̴̤̟͆͂n̷̯̋ḍ̶̈̏ ̷̰̈́̓n̶̨͉͐͊ơ̸͍̈ ̶̻́̂o̷̼̳̍n̶̺̈́̒e̴̝̤̐̑ ̵̞͂w̷̡̾ä̵̘̦́s̶̛̥͍ ̶̤̯̀͛t̵͒͜ĥ̵͛͜e̸͔͗̽r̵̡̔e̴̩͋ ̸̨͓̿a̸͚̾͝ň̴̹̖d̷͓̠͝͝ ̶̣̫̃̊t̴̝̒h̵̳̥̎̀e̷̡̍ṛ̶̯̈́̎é̴̫͒ ̶͔͌̂i̷̺͌̈́s̶͎͆ ̴̻̆̎n̸̘̓o̶̧͕̒ẗ̴͖́h̸͓̲̀͘i̵̱̔ņ̸̔̚g̸̟̘̊ ̷̗̠̋ĭ̷̬̫n̴̙̆ ̷̯̦́͘t̴̮̀ẖ̵̽ẻ̴͚͋ ̶̡̀̎h̵͎̍̑ǒ̴͎͈̒ų̷̭̎s̴͈̐̓e̶͕̊̈́ started hanging out with her friends a lot more.
He could feel their screams through the walls. It felt like his whole body was being shaken to the core.
Then he heard it.
The sound of a slap.
A pause in the yelling.
He curled in on himself.
His father started yelling again.
His mom was quiet.
He felt tears beginning to stream down his cheeks, spilling into his now cold rice.
Their voices got quieter.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, getting closer and closer to him.
He stopped breathing. He stopped moving.
A large figure was in the corner of his vision, grabbing one of the car keys and walk out of the room.
He didn't dare look up.
He didn't want to see that man.
The front door unlocked.
The man left.
The whole house became silent.
No Pokemon. No chatter. Nothing.
His mom wept, and he stayed seated.
Waiting for her to say something sweet when she finally came back.
"Your father's just... taking some time for himself. He'll be back soon."
And he'd believe her.
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He was in the same spot again.
Sitting alone at the table.
But there was no longer rice in front of him.
Maybe it's because his mom wasn't here to make him food anymore.
Maybe it's because she spent most of her time out of the house, hanging out with friends or going on trips.
Maybe it's because she hadn't bought food in a while.
But it was okay.
He was bigger now.
ḩ̶̛̮͇̽́́e̷̪̟̟̟̣͖̍ ̴̤̰̇̿w̴̭̻͔̩̘̲̿̂͑̽̽ȧ̴̬̇̽̉̑ņ̷̃͗̈́́t̴̢͔͓͎̿͐s̸̨͚͎͖͖̍ ̶̨̺̹̗̅̈́͊̑̐͊s̸͍̹̪̖̬͎̑o̸̰͚͈͘m̶͉̜̲͔̪̣̃͛̆̀͊̓e̴̳̾̏͆ǒ̶̞͕̜͉͍͎ṉ̷̝̳̕͘͝ȩ̸͈͉̐̌̉̒ ̸͔͐̈́t̵̝̙́́͜ŏ̶̭̾̄̓̒̓ ̴̱̱̂̏͂̕͝t̶̫̳́̅r̶͈̙̩̠͇͕̓̓͐ẻ̷̻͙͙̈́̐̀͆ą̷̦̬̩̭̭̉́̆̀͠͝ṯ̵͇̀̚̕ ̸̛̙̉̓͘h̴̬̒̈́̿͘͝͝i̴̢̘͖̯͋̾͌͗̄͑m̵̰͒̋͝ ̸̮͙̘̝̘̮̉͗̋͌͛̕ḽ̵̡̞͙͉̝̆i̴͇̳̙̰͉̾̎̔̚͠k̵̹̺̀̌ë̷̛̛͙̜́̌̀ ̷̬̼̓ả̵̧̊͌̈͂̍ ̴͙͕̠͖̎̎̑̈́͂k̶̬͎̲̯͔̏̒̒̈́i̸̛͎͇͂̄̈d̴͎͉͍͕͇͗̈́̃̔̆ ̵̩̯̑̏ͅḩ̷͈̫̟̓̔͛͒͐͛ȅ̴̝̯̱͂́̐̾̾'̶̣̍̊͑̂̌̚ş̴̺̙̗̿̏̈̄̆ ̴̢̲̞̬͙̌̿̽̈͜s̸̗̘̣͈̏̚͝o̴̬̮͌̔͗̏ ̷̮̟̳̗͇͔́̇̚s̷̰̺̥̞̺̈́̈́c̷̫̔̀̄a̶̞̤̙̓͝r̸̫̙̫͐̀̐͗͋e̸̲͆d̷̢̧̛̞̥͇̫̃̽̑̋̚ ̸̦̱̪̈́͒̓á̶͍̮̫͍͕̇ǹ̸̨̫̲̠͠d̸̠̗̀̓ ̵̢̨̰͇̖̾̍́͑̃̿å̸̲̤͓̝͇̀̌́̚̚͜l̸͓̆̄̕o̵̢̧̰̳̓̉̾̍͠͠n̶̨̮̠̗̳͛̔̊̈́̓͘ȩ̵̢̬͇͕̪̔͂̚ ̴̻̹̲̟̗͋͆͗̆̚j̶̠́̆͋͒ṵ̷̉͠s̶̞̹̍͝t̵̡͙̗̮̭̗̀͑̓ ̵̲̦̭̗̻̈́͂̾̆̐̓ṡ̴̝̥͆͗̂̒́ö̵͕́m̴̢̨̹̹̅ę̴̨̙͔̳͕̎͑̀͘ǫ̴̧͕̪̟̌̑n̵̜̏̒e̴͓̩̮̱͗͝ ̵̗̠͕̗̬̓̀̽a̸̠̜̦̺͇͒n̸̡̨͑́y̷̰̟̗̠͔̲̾̿̑̍͝o̵̧͌̃̎ṋ̸̹̪̯̘̄̌ȩ̶̳̀̕ͅ ̸͖̯̫̲̟͍̇̑̌́̾̕p̷̝̌͒̓̽l̶̫̩͙̍e̴͙̒̈́̉̒ͅa̵̩̐s̸̡̟̩͖̿̒͘͝e̴̬̹̜̟͔͇͛̓
He could go out and get food himself.
He could take care of the Pokemon himself.
He could do all the chores by himself.
He could do it.
So he went upstairs, to her bedroom, and found a small bag of Poke-dollars.
And by the time he got home, arms full of groceries, his mom had come back to.
Would she be proud?
Tell him he did such a good job?
Stay just a little longer this time?
He set the bags down, and looked at her patiently.
Her eyes were bloodshot.
Her clothes looked dirty.
She looked tired.
She smelled like what the Man smelt like after he'd come home from work.
Her eyes snapped to him, as if she didn't even realize he was standing there.
He knew what she would say.
"Did you do this by yourself? Great job sweetie! I'm so proud of you!"
Maybe she'd even hug him.
When was the last time she did that?
He followed her gaze to where it rested.
The groceries.
But his vision went dark, his head reeling back.
Pain blossomed on his cheek.
It was numb.
Then it stung.
He didn't move for a second.
He didn't understand.
Slowly, he looked back at her.
And his mom was no longer there.
It was a woman, one he knew.
She was angry.
Very angry.
"Did you do this by yourself? Stealing my money to, what, buy yourself useless shit?!"
What?
This wasn't what he thought would happen.
Why was this happening?
What did he do wrong?
"After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me?"
Another slap against his face, this time with more force.
"I raised you better! I raised you to be like me! Not like your father!"
He tried to explain himself.
"M-mom I-I-I just needed s-some food, and y-y-you weren't home yet s-so I-"
Another slap.
"You ungrateful little brat!"
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt so much.
He couldn't breathe.
He just needed it to s̴̟̎͂̑̚̕ẗ̴̲̜͍̩̫̟́̈͑̽ở̸͚̤͔̲̙͌͌͜p̸̱̰̟̔̈̈́̎ ̵̲̬́̍s̶̥̲̑̈́́͝͝t̷̡̫̱̭̖͋͒͑͊̇̏ỏ̸̮͙̲p̴̡͈̺̪̋͐̋̌͂̕ ̶͓̐͛͆̓s̴̢̯̹̯͛̓̓͑̄ͅt̶̫̻̰͆̍͗̃͋́ͅͅͅo̴̗͈̤̲̲͛̎̆̇̅͝p̶͚̩̯̲̄̉͘ ̵̨̗͉̙̀̍͊s̵̮͆̽́̂̚t̶̙̘̖̅͑ŏ̵̡̜̭͖̣̣̐̌͠p̵̙͚̓ ̶͔͚̍̀͂̏s̷͔͈̊̊̀̕ť̵̯̱̎̎ö̷̤̬̇͝ṗ̸̛̖̟̎̅̐͂ͅ ̵̥͔͐̂s̸̨̈́͘t̶̺̫̜̱̼̫̎̈͘͘ö̷̩̥̼̱́̈́̃͋͂͝p̴͚̘̋ ̷̗͋̈́̓ṣ̶̳̐t̶̖̜͚̝͆̔̈́̈́͐͜͝ŏ̷̡̠̫̦̗͜p̶͇̙̒͗̓̅̓ ̶̢͉̠͙̯͓̒̃͆̉͝ś̶̡̻̮̲̓̽̏̐͒t̴͔͈͗̋̾͘͝ǫ̵̧̳̇͌͑p̷͎̜͕̯̞̓̆͘ ̸͚͆̅͆̓̈s̴̢͔̗̩͍̰̓͐̈́͝t̷̡̨̗̓̋̂͜o̷̞͗̔p̵͓̾ ̸͉̹̾̓̅̐ś̵̺̖̏̓ť̷̢̤̺͚̣̫͊̈́͋̀o̸̧̥̳͓͚̦͛͌p̵̭͔̭̹͎̩̓̃ ̵̜̲̙͋́͗̈́̀̌ͅs̶̰͚̓͐̐͂̈́t̷̗̜̾̏̀͜o̴͉̿̉p̸͚̞̣͍̖̿̒̓͜ ̵̫̾̎̾̑́s̶̜̳̪̮̗̓̌̽́̕t̷̨̮̞͗̋̎͛͘͠ọ̵͙̞̲͓͚͑̓̈̓̀p̷̢͇̣̃̑̈́͊̿̈́ ̸͓͔͒̓̎̐s̵͉͛̃͜t̸͕̫̯̳̙̓͌o̶̭͚͋p̴͕̅̋̏͒̚ ̵͓͍͎̥̝̑̔͝s̵͇̬̫̳͎͛̌͜t̷̢̢̪̙̟͓̊͝ỏ̸͍̲p̴̣̲̟͖̅̍̀̔͆̕ͅ ̶̮͕̜̬̳́̈̔̈́s̴̭͗̔̎͘͝ͅṱ̶̠̯͍̆̑ǫ̶̡̩̯͒̽͝p̷̖̿̇ ̷͖̦͎͚̹̈͆̃̐͆͝s̶̢̧͓͇̠̍̉̃͑̑t̸̯͓͊̉̌̀o̶̫͎̱͕̟̯͋́̈́̓p̷͎̮̊̅̚̚ ̴̦̙̭̮͆̏̌s̸̛̻͍͕͔̀͗̍̄͋t̵̥͑͐́ó̷̗̥̌͒p̸̢͖̳̘̐̂̾ ̷̡͖̘̟̆̈̇̂̽͜͠s̸͈̥̥͉̩̄t̵̝͓͗̃̊̉̚̕o̵̳̦̻͑p̷͇̕͝ ̷̗̈́̈ṣ̶̰͕͍͖̀̓̕̕t̸͙̣̞͍̖͌̒ŏ̴̭̲̗͋̍͊̃͆p̸̦̓ ̶̧͔̭̦̍͂͑̍̍͝ṣ̸̈͠ṭ̷̛̋̾̽̚o̶̦̱̳̙̹̒̂̊̊͊̆ͅp̶̳̥̘̓̅̽͜ ̷̺̣̰̮̋́̿̆̐s̷̼̟̳̄̅̈́t̴̡̢̞̫͊̓͂̽̏͜͠o̵̙͇̳͋̅̌͐p̷̡̫̓̄ ̵̞̤̙͖͓͊͋͛̓̚s̶̝͍͉̗̰̅͒̿̚̕t̷̥̐̉̆̂́͝ō̴͚͙̺̓̕p̷̹̼̈͊ ̶͕͖͉̳͍̩́̆͂͘̚s̸̼̎͂̽̍t̸̨̤͂̀̏ͅơ̶͔̆̄͛̈́͠p̶̻̖̗̞̂͂̀͗͌̆ ̵̫̈́s̵̰̏͋̈́̒͘t̸̪̍̆̉o̷̲̳̟̤̤͌͛͑́͂̚͜p̵̤͑́͘͘͝ ̵̖̩̞̐͜s̷̻̯͍͍̰̎t̵͍͐̒͠ö̶͓́̃̕̕p̵̝̼̙̓̿͊̉́ ̵̣̥̦̉̀̀̇̇͠s̷͔̠̖͌̓t̴̢̰̻̖̾̓̾͗̏ò̶̧͕̣̪͖̿́p̴̪̗̭͚̿ ̷̹̺͚͎͆̈́͂s̵̟̰̬͔̯͇͊ṯ̵̖͖̣͎́̅́̔ͅo̶̺̰͔̻͆p̸̨̛̭͖̮̺̠͐̔͂̚ ̵̙̰̇́̃͂̒͜͠s̸̡̟͙̱̰̦̉̈́̈́͒̇̕t̷̹̤͊́̂̌͠ͅǫ̶̯̲̪͎̭͘p̷̣̿ ̶̺̩̏̒͌̍̈́̚s̴̛̳͔͋͑͌͘͝t̶̨̳͍̋͠͝ỏ̸̤̜͙̍p̷̢̝̜̫͖̎̅̔͂̐͠ ̷͕̥̗̠͈̘͌̏̀ṣ̴̖̾͐̆t̸̡̢̰̼̉͗̈́ǫ̸̼͚̞̟̯͒͆͂̌͒̚p̷̨̠̣̗̗̆̇̏̍͌̋͜ ̷̰̹͍̉̎̓͠s̵̪̯̗̻̑̓̄̚t̷͉͔͋̽̓o̸̺͗̀p̵̢̽̔̈́͝ͅͅ ̵̲̌s̷͇̍̈͛͜t̷͚̳̭̍͐ỏ̵̹̥̊p̷̠̐̅̈́̍͆͝ ̸͚̟̜͔̖̽̚s̸̡͈̣̱͑̽̋ṯ̷̨̧̞̭̿̊̎̓o̶̳̺͉̳͈͌͊̽̀p̶̹͚̗̠̙̘̀ ̵̧̳̖̰͓̞͑̐s̸̳̪͔̪͓̟̓́̇ţ̷̩̱̘͉̈o̷̧̱̙̅p̷̡̼̩͙̐́̓ ̵̡̲͓̗̪̳͑̐̌͠s̵̡̭̾ť̶̩̯̈́͆͆̚͠õ̶̧̦̘̖p̵̳̖̀̈̾͜ ̶͇̜̟͒͌͐͑̅s̵̱̜̺̮̙̤̊̂̉t̴̛͖̻͕̭̆͂̾̕͜ö̴̙́̏̀̓͘p̷̛̳̦͇͚̀̌̔͗͘ ̸̧̲͙̭̙̉͋̒̈́ͅs̸̠͋̃̈́͒͗̕ẗ̵̮͓͚͔́̋o̶̗͎̞̻͗͌͊͐p̷̺̪̗̲̏́̈́͂ ̵̫̜̖̃̏̐͠s̵̢̘͉͈̞͝t̷̳̻̝̬͊̍͜͜ǫ̸̫̺̫̲͂̏͛̑̈p̶̩̅̊̄̄̔͝ ̴̡̝͙̂͛͜s̴͈̟̲̥̓͐̀͌͘t̷̗͘o̴̻͐̈͑͒̓͠p̵̡̰͗͊̊̚ ̷̭̳͕͙̲͊ŝ̸̪͂̕t̶̹̍̏̕ơ̸̦̤̬̣̈́͒̀p̸̹̞̟̑̓̾̄̚͠ ̴͇̯̪̦͔͖͆ş̵̫̫̘͋̈̊͋͑͒t̷͚̮̋̔́̿ô̵̱͌͑̀͛ͅp̴̨͚̮̭̥͌͝ ̵̠͗̾̈̈̈́͠ş̶͗̿̓̃t̸̛͇̏̌̅̏ơ̵̟̻͇̣̲̌́̚͜p̸̢̖̖̮̄ ̵̻́̾͐̀s̵̭̘͝ţ̷͓̘̣̄̍̾͗͘͘o̷̥̲̱̫͍̪̐͌̀͗̚͝p̸̥͝ ̶̧͍̍̑̔̚ͅs̷͇͈̙͎̐ṱ̴̨̮̎̒̏ö̷͍́̿̌͑̚p̵̭̜̖͚̤͍͛̑̔͝ ̴̧̟͆̌̄͊͝s̵̰̤̮̬͎̦̾̆ẗ̶̨̰͍͓́ö̷̝̪͍́͌̋̏͑p̶̳̞̈̇͋͗ ̵̤̞̝̦͈͍̇̈́͝s̴͈̙̿͝t̴̝̖͕͊ͅò̶̘̜͖̦̪ṕ̶̩͇̱̹̝̄͌̒͠ ̴̬͈̖͖́̽́s̶͍̆̑̍̽ṱ̶̳͛o̷̟̓̈́p̴̢̙͋̃́͆͑͝ͅ ̷̯̟͂̄ͅs̶̨̲̲̦̥͠ţ̶͖̱͕̊̇̎͋o̸̻͌̅̑̒̒p̴̘̬̯͑̂ ̶̰̫̽̇͗ś̸̭̍̐t̵̨̟͚̦̫͍́̈́̿͘͠ǫ̷̪͓̗̙̏͂͂̈́̍͘ͅp̴̪̻̖̳͛́ ̴̫̈́̎̓́s̶͎͙͚͐t̷̮̠̥͒̈́o̶͇̣͇̘̱̾̾p̴̠̮̑͛͌̓̃ ̸̢͈̭̦̻͊s̵̨̢̨̟̤̥̆͆t̷̹̀͂̕o̷̪̣̱̲̰̺͂͐́̋̾̕p̸̘̯̪̎͌̀̀̋͘ ̵̦̤̪̏͆̿̇̕͝s̶̗͒͜͜t̵̟͓͚̯̓̒͜͠o̷̟͉̖̱̺͉͌̏̈́p̷̦̉̃͋̚ ̴͖̣̮̜̣͗̂͌̆̏s̶̻̰̻̼̑̂̑́̉̇t̴̬͈͌̍̄̓̅̏ǒ̸̘͎͉̀̎̃̈́p̴̢̨̥̰̩̫̋̅̊̾ ̴̩͈̦̰̀̆̿̀̎̚s̷̼̍̓̓̀͑ț̴̀̄̍o̶̻̕p̷̡̰̰̫̈́̚̚͜͝ ̸̧̱̔̽̆̆s̶͈̥̀̃̔̾͆̕t̴̨̺̦̳̦͗́͘͜ŏ̸̞̄̉͜p̶̡̨͉͈͚͎̀̀̅̿̓ ̵̪̫̠́̐͆͘š̷̢̟̘̙̹̆̃͛̏̕ţ̴̣̦̱̂͌͗͝͠o̷͙̥͇͇͍̊̏p̴̢̝̟̖̤͙̊̀͋͠ ̵̛̼̦̣̦͈͚͗͋̃̈́̿s̶̡͈͇̟̅̎̋͠t̷͓͉̔͑̍̒̚ǫ̵͎͖̬͇̩͠p̸̛͖̺̜̝̟͈͊̈́ ̸̫̖̰̱͂̽̃͜s̷͍̙̹͔̰͋̈́̓̔t̷̛͙͉̑͛̉̾͝ò̶͔̱̼̃̃̿̽p̵̢̖͚̙̘͛͛̿̀ ̷͍̇̊͗̄s̷̳͇̫̎ṭ̷̳̖͐̑͒͘͘ö̸͉̃ṕ̷͖̮̄ ̷̛̩̹̊͊̊́̆͜s̷̻͍̤̈̅̀̋̍́ẗ̴͎̠͓̟̝́̉ȍ̸̧̭̱͉̘̀͒̓p̴̞̞̞̂̃ ̷̢͈͚̪̩̌͗̀̾̚͜ẖ̷̇͛̿͊̀͝ͅë̷̘͔̯̺̞́̎̀̾̇͘ ̸͕́c̶̡̯͝a̴̼̓̊̊̇̑̚ņ̸̢̘̖͌'̸͉̃t̸̡̰̗͕̂ ̷̌͌͑̏͘ͅt̶̥̏͐̒̚ä̸̮͇͛k̶͖̙̲̰͌́è̸̡̝̣͋̇̀̓ ̵͕̒̐͘ĩ̴̩͖͉̲̞̞͘t̷̯̝̅̉̍͠ ̷̣̘̋̃̄̈́̑̕h̸̭̮̳͉̼͈̎́̑̒͐́è̶͉̬ ̵̟̊c̵̳̅́ȃ̷̹̺̟͍n̸̳̼̪̈́̐̿̂̒́'̶̗̳̠͖̙̘̎̕t̶̟͓̱̭̯̆̈́͂̌ ̵̡̤͇̏ť̴͉̫͒̕ạ̷̢̟̽̎ḵ̶͐̄͒͐̔ę̵͙̭̺̬̐ ̶̨̹̰̳̅͌̂ì̷͈̣̳͚̠͕̀̌̿̎̽t̸͕̫͙͕̋̽͒́̍͜͝ ̴̢̬͓͗̿͜h̴̖̬̻͘ͅȇ̷͓̰͈̀̈̓ ̴̥̮̊c̵̛̭̘͇̙͛́͌ͅa̵͚̝̪̐͒̆̋̕͜͠ͅn̴̺̪͌̆̌͗͗'̸̗͚̩̤̹̺͘ẗ̵̟̗̻̗́͑̉͘͝͝ͅ ̷̮̫̻͍̇̈́̾̐͠ͅͅẗ̸̺́͊͝ǎ̴̤̩͋̃̇̌͜k̷̛͇̤̟͉̘͇̄͋͐̉ê̷̮̹̳͊ ̴͙̹̖̫͍̓i̷͕̚ţ̵̭͈͐́̓̆͘ ̵̰̄̈́̈́h̴̙͐̕ȇ̸̘̣̲̠͗̉ ̴̠̒͛͊̒̅͘c̴̞̖͇͓̞̈̔͂̓̓̕ä̵̧͎̫n̵͇̩̳̑̆̈́͑̿̈́'̴̡̱̣̎̔̕ẗ̷̥̦̖̳ͅ ̷̧͈͈͖̏̏ͅț̸̢̖̽a̷͓͚̮̪̋̈k̴̨͇̮̻̊̀̓é̵̡̨̞͉̔ ̴̥̫̗͈͇̈́͌̂̑í̴̞̏t̷̡̡͕̼͍̂ ̴̳́̋̈̆̕ḥ̶̪͑͒̈͘ë̷̬́̋́͒̈́ ̵̦͇̪͍̆̎̇̔̈̚c̵̣͂͑̊͂̂͝ḁ̶̧͖̳͒͌͂͜ͅṋ̵͚͇̌͐̂̄̃̕'̴̨͉̩̮̅̄̀̚t̷̖̝̲̽̆̌͆̍͂ ̴͍̮̗̼̀̂̀̋̀t̸͍͍̑̓́̒͒a̴̜̥̫̋͜ͅk̶̲̬̇̏̂̏͝e̵̖̜̗̳̻̓ͅ ̷̛̭̟̑͋̚ĩ̷̡̻̬̖̣̗͛͝t̷̨̤͚̝̿̍̏̂̈ ̸̛̻͇̭̟̖̠͂̿ḧ̶̲̹̓e̴̪͖͎͈͉̅̾̏̕͝ ̷̞͇̗̥̉̀̆̒̌͂c̵̢͇̙̣͐͋͒a̸̭̯̐͝n̵̨̨̛̜̪͔̐͑'̷̞̳͗̓̐̓t̵̻̺̉̊̅̓̍ ̵͕̭̳̺̒̏͋͘͝͝ͅt̴̛̛̰̠̍̑͊a̸̫̮͉̾́͠ḱ̵̰̘̭̩͖́͒͘ę̴̜̠̪̤̯̕ ̸̛̱͖̤̬̮̌̏͋̇͜í̷̬̳̈́͑̋t̴͉̩̲͚̬̏͛́̀͛ ̷̭̤͎̟̣͆̀̓͊̒͘͜ȟ̴̩͔̀e̶͓̻͉̓͗̇̅ ̵͕̩̼̭̟̠̓c̶̢̟͎̗̘͈̎̓͒ă̴̬̲̠̱͍ṇ̵̢̹̹̺̚'̷̤̠̳͘t̷̪̟̏̎͆̃̔̅ ̷͓̮̃ț̷̹̪͆͗à̶̪̇͂k̴̼̮̪̤̙̾e̴̼̪̋̏ͅ ̸̬̰̓͐ḯ̶̭͕̖̒͐̐t̶̨͎̪̜͖̓̊͛͒̅ ̶̃̏͜ȟ̶̥̹̟͇̳̩͝͝e̵̞̗̣̟̭͐͊̈́́̾ͅ ̶̧͇́͗͌͝c̵̤̟̈́́̐͐ͅa̵̢͎̩̅͋͐́̎n̵̝̥͋'̸͖̗̳͙͛̃̒ͅt̴̼̳͆̈́̓̀ ̵͇̉̌̐͘t̶̨̓a̴̠͔͖͆k̵̲̝͒̆̃̓̈e̷͉̳͍̥̝͑́ ̴̝̪̤̲̄̉̎̉ĩ̴̖̻̬̱̓̀͋̕̚t̶̝̦̦͇̞͍͗͌̆ ̴̥̲̤̰̯͂̿̈̊͋́h̵͕̠̉̀e̵̢͚̾ ̴̭̓͝c̵̼̥̭̮͛̈́̄̇̈́͌a̶̰̤̒̇͋͒͋ñ̴̘͗̑'̶̘̮͐ͅţ̵̘̥̪̞̻̏͗͑̄̄ ̷͖̠͓̞̟͖̇̚t̸͔̘͇̪̩͘a̴̺͍̥͚̻̍̓ͅk̴̢̳̞̗̣̈́͆ẹ̵͈͇̻̀͗̋ ̶̘̪̏̃̍̕ị̸̦͕͇̙̳͋͐̅͝ẗ̸̟̰̗̩́͊̀̇ ̵̖̠͛̀̋h̵̥̍ë̷̟͍̬̙̥̲́̐͘ ̵̝̞̐̓c̷̗͍̘͆̀̕͝a̸̛̲̹͍̗n̴͓̮͚̆͜'̴̛̺̉̓̾ț̸̓͑̒̓̇ ̸̨̬̝̳̟̦̎̊͝t̷̩̜͚͋͐͋̀͋̒a̸̗̔̊ķ̴̲̰̂͆̾e̵͖̪̗̰̦̊̓͂̿ ̵͙̳̈i̵̝̮̤̝̎͑͋̆t̶̨̨̬̲̹̒̒̌͑̍͠ ̴͕̊́͐͘h̷̨̡̞̰̓̄͆̋̄̔e̷̡̝̩͕̻͉͂̾̕̕͝ ̸̛̭͓c̴̡͕̳̪͎̮̆͐͌́å̵̟̈̂ñ̶̢̫̩̜̫̂̉̽̌'̷͓̩̝͋̓͐͝͝t̵̛͇̣̯͗͑̏̓͐ ̶̧̢̦̖͚̪̃̒̉͆͗t̸̤̠̘̔͜ả̸̖͔̹̺̣͐̒̔k̷̭̘̪͖̐͋̈́͘ȩ̶̪̈́͑́̎ ̷̧̱̣̑i̸̹͔̗̩͍̋̋͑̄͘͝t̸̙̪̉̃̓͌͘͝ ̶͎̤͎̖͗̔͊̈́͠ͅh̶̲̠͚̝̙̳̍ë̷̘̯̲̦́ ̸̫̮̆͆͝c̴̣̹̪̙̭̀̆̂̚ä̴͓̪̠̬̙̯̚n̷̰͇͖͗̉̽̕͜'̶̰̯̒̈t̸̘͓̱̀ ̶̨̙͈͔̘͚̾͌̈͛̊t̷̨͕͇͒͗͐͒̍̒͜á̵͔͉̬̜͛͜ḱ̶̢̤̝͉̆̃́́͐e̸̟̺̅͗̏͝ ̸̥̼̖͕̖̥͆i̶̻̠̊t̷͓͈̯̝̉͜ ̶̹͎͕̜̖̰̈́h̵̖̮̫̱̫̼̔͒̓͊͑͝e̵͎̹̦͓͉͙͘ ̸̧̞̳͙̲͓͆͠c̴̱̜̺̠͐a̸̧̼̣̩̍͆̀̄̚͜͝ṇ̵̜̙̇'̵̣͙͍͍̖͇̊͝t̴̨̺̹̱̅͐̃̾͝ͅ ̷̺̱͙̼̱͋͑̿͘̕t̷͔̿͂͊̍a̵͇͑k̴̜̏̾͗̀̂͝e̴̢̜͉̲͎͋̔̂ ̸̮͖̗̃͝͝i̵̡͖̬̳̱͐t̶͕͇́̐͋͆ ̴̮̜̭́̀h̴̨̡͚̺̤̲̃́̑̾̚͝e̵̼̼̺̼͎̋̇͌ ̷̧͉̟̦̲̺̎͆̓̀̒c̶̢̛̱̉̑̈́̈́a̴̪͔̱̪̩̽n̶͉͔̈́͑'̴̼̼̩̳́̓t̷̮̳̅̿ ̸̼̟̺͑̏̆̆t̴̨͍̱͚̿͗̌̕a̷̞͒͒̽k̴̹̐͂e̶̠͌͊̎͊ ̷͍̗͛͑̀̊̑ͅi̶̘̦͚͂̀̈̎͊ṯ̵̛͙͖̥͈̺̓͛̇ ̵̜͘ḩ̴̣͐̈́̐̃̂̽ȩ̸̼͇͈͑̎̌̇ ̷̢͈̞̩̮̏̌͋̃͒c̸͍̦̎̾̽͒̚̚a̴̟͇͆͗͝n̷̙̯̦̹̟͐̓̅̎̓́'̴̹̝̐͌ţ̶͕́́̔̐ ̴̲͒̃̃͌͒t̸͖̙̮̪͇̙͌͐ą̷̨̠̲̇͊̀͠͠ḵ̶̤̳̟̩͔̃́ë̷̛͙͎͇͇̰̓̃͐̌ ̵͕̟͙͋̉̀͗i̷̛̱̰̝̜͐͑͊t̶̡̲̱͛̌ ̴͖͎̅̍̕͘
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Gold sprung forward, gasping for air he didn't realize needed.
Tears streamed down his face, his breath stuttering as it struggled to regain composure.
His chest felt tight, like there was a rock sitting atop it, and his throat was cut all over, making each breath feel more torturous than the last.
He couldn't breathe
he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe
he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe
he couldn't breathe-
"Gold! You're okay, just calm down"
What...?
He heard a voice, but it sounded to far away, the sound of his own gasps overriding any other noise.
A firm hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him into a w̶̧̠͈͎̰͉̻̅̎̈̚͘a̴̖̝̙͎̞̓͐́͆͛͘͜ŕ̴͖̐͌̈́́̓͜͝m̴̛̼͔̫̭̩͛̊́͆͋̾ ̸̢̖͎̮͔̈́̾̈́͋̃̇ͅs̶̳̼̖̫̼̀͛a̸̢̢͚̖̓ͅf̷̲̙̪͆͒̈́ẹ̷̊͛ ̸̢̻̩̼̗͉̜̊̌̌̃̓̚ć̴̱̀̔̄͘͝ǫ̶̻̹͕̗͂͋̀́͒̀̽ͅm̶̜̹͓̭̮̬̉͆f̴̣͛̈̃ǫ̴̡͖͓͈̟̕r̸͚̘̠̿̃t̸̨̫̳̩̩̋̈́̈́͂̋͝í̴̡͍̲̯͕͉̑̕ṅ̴͈̘̯̮͕̣̞̐̀͠ğ̴̢͈̲̗̅̃̔̽ soft surface, one that smelt faintly like Freesia flowers and Unovan pears.
Slowly, the static in his nerves began to fade away, the sensation of his body being held registered almost immediately. But Gold couldn't bring himself to look up just yet.
It felt...nice. To be held like this.
He couldn't remember the last time someone had done this.
He felt a hand move up to his hair, gently brushing through it. It reminded him of what someone used to do for him whenever he got scared, back when he was younger.
Glancing up, he saw it was Green who had given him the grounding pressure. He look... tired. More laid back and calm than Gold ever thought someone as stoic as Green could look.
Green noticed his staring, and paused his brushing movements. "...You back with us?" he asked, no malice or contempt in his voice.
Gold gave a small 'mnhm', and felt as Green began to pull away. But his hand still stayed on his shoulders.
They both went quiet, neither one sure of how to respond or move forward after the noirette's nightmare.
His mouth felt dry, like he hadn't had water in days. And his body felt like it had a mixture of chills and heatstroke all at the same time. He let out a small cough into his arm, which prompted one of the hands on his shoulders to move to his forehead.
The coolness of Green's hand felt like a blessing, and Gold couldn't help but lean into it slightly.
"…I think you've got a fever starting." Green mumbled to himself, before turning to nudge a lump on the ground with his knee. The lump groaned as Red slowly pulled himself up, only half awake.
"Red, wake up."
"Hmm? What's u- Oh! Gold! Didn't realize you got up before me."
Gold gave a hum of acknowledgment before curling into the sleeping Arcanine next to him, desperate for some warmth. The feeling of perpetual heat had already left him, leaving nothing but constant freezing to wrack his body.
Noticing his movement, Green maneuvered him back to where he was sitting originally. "Hey, can't fall back asleep. You need to get some food and medicine in you."
A groan came from the teen, and Red chuckled at him whilst ruffling his hair. "Hey, you can go right back to sleep afterwards, alright? Just need to make sure you get taken care of first. Plus, those bandages properly need to be changed as well, huh?"
Green noticed the change in his friend's voice, slipping into a more soft and gentle tone compared to his usually loud and confident one. He did agree with what Red was saying though, and hoped that once Gold was more lucid, they could finally start getting some more information as to what happened last night.
But for now, he thought to himself, carefully pulling Gold up from his spot on the couch into more of a sitting position, the least we can do is help.