Chapter Text
When you wake up, it's strangely comfortable, in a way you aren't used to, and it doesn't register until you focus in on a mass of brown hair curled up in front of you that you've returned to society, and more importantly, to Green. Granted, it was to save him, and you stay only because of him, but you think the reasoning is okay, and enough to not really consider going back.
You know there's a chance that you'll be overwhelmed into the mountain again, but you are able to come back down, more often, with less difficulty, knowing Green is here.
Especially because you know Green will be waiting here.
Right now, he's curled up tightly in his sleep, something you noticed earlier in the hospital bed. It must be bad for him. Not the curling up, but the tightly part, tense and stiff. Your arms are already around him, and you can feel the trembling.
Your chest tightens uncomfortably when you recall the pills Green swallowed the night before. It hurt to see him splutter and cough, drinking an excess of water only to fail several times before they went down successfully. You tried to stop him, but he insisted, panic in his eyes, so you folded.
They work, but not well. Green sleeps, but doesn't rest. It shows when he wakes up in a panic and shoves you off of him. He sits, but curls up again, shaking so badly that you can feel it through the bed. When you reach towards him, he pulls away, eyes wide with fear and without recognition.
"Stop," he whimpers, and there's so much fear in his voice that you don't try again, but he continues to repeat the single word, voice shaking more and more each time. When he stops, his breathing in short and shallow gasps. Seizing his hands forces Green to look, and really look, at your hands, and his eyes follow your arm up to your face.
He finally registers that you are here, but his breathing doesn't slow.
"Re.... Red... Help." The words tremble and crack as he starts hyperventilating. You scoot closer to him, grasp his hands firmly, and press one to your chest, over your heart, and one to your cheek. You can feel the chill of his hands through the shirt you wear and directly from the one against your cheek as you start breathing deeply, slowly, letting Green feel the rise and fall of your chest, your heartbeat, the slow inhalations and exhalations. You hold his gaze with your own, and slowly but surely, his breathing slows, the panic fades, and he slumps forward into your arms. You cradle him, gently rubbing the small of his back and pressing soft kisses to his head, until he looks up at you.
Green looks exhausted, even though he just woke up, and your heart almost stops when he says "I need to get ready to go to the gym." You tug a blanket over his shoulders and shake your head insistently, begging in the ways you can, but he doesn't fold.
"I've tons of paperwork I need to catch up on. There's a training session planned for today, and gym's been closed for too long as well. The League will be furious if I don't."
You swallow unhappily and let him go, frustrated. The bags under his drooping eyes are terrible, he staggers as he walks, his shoulders slump, and there's a heaviness to his words you don't like. You wonder how no one sees any of this, how no one tries to help Green with it at all. There is nothing that comes to mind that can rationalize letting someone suffer like this, and yet, here he is. An unpleasant knot of discomfort builds up, but when he walks back out the bathroom, everything gets thrown off track.
Green walks straight, back straight and shoulders back but not slumped. The bags under his eyes are still there, but he looks alert and alive, a complete switch from the dead, exhausted Green some minutes ago. The smile on his face suggests that all is right in the world minus some hours of sleep, and when he sees your expression, he laughs.
"What are you so surprised for?" The smirk on his face is more like the Green others expect, and that's when it hits you.
Green is pretending.
You snatch up the notebook placed on the bed stand besides you.
"You are being fake."
With a sigh, Green flops face-first onto the bed. His voice is muffled when he speaks, but all the exhaustion from before weighs down each word.
"Yes, I know."
You don't know what to do exactly when Green leaves. There's no urge to return to Mount Silver, much to your surprise, but with that out of the way, it really sinks in that you... Don't have much else.
Green has his own thing, his job as gym leader, but you have nothing like that, nor do you think you'd want like it.
Too many people.
Too easy for the reporters to get you.
A different sense of discomfort settles when it sinks in that to do anything along the lines of your routine in Mount Silver requires exiting the house... Which means people.
Just thinking about those few days, all those years ago, makes you anxious and uneasy. The safety of the house does little to aide your discomfort, and you find yourself placing you hand over your heart, feeling it beat.
Your Pokemon are currently outside, basking in the warmth of the sunlight, leaving you no one to reassure with their own appendage. It makes your heart ache for them and you end up peering through the windows to watch them.
There's no water for Lapras to wade in, but she seems perfectly content to settle on the grass. She seems to be humming softly, judging from how Blastoise is sitting right next to her, head tilting in her direction. Occasionally, the two exchange a shower of water.
Venusaur is happily stretching in the light, plainly happy to feel the strength of the rays upon his back. Already, his flower looks healthier and more vibrant than the day before, to your own delight. Charizard sunbathes next to Venusaur, flat on his stomach with outstretched wings. The fire on his tail burns brightly as it lazily sweeps back and forth.
Snorlax is asleep under the shade of the trees in the corner of the yard. You can't really tell if the move made him any happier, but you know that he will be able to eat more now, with access to more food.
Pikachu is the only one you can't see, and pangs of fear shoot through you. You rush to the door, hand turning the knob, but can't bring yourself to open past a crack.
"Chu!"
A sense of relief floods your body at the sound of Pikachu's cry. A moment later, he pops up at the door, peering in through the crack. The tiny creature blinks at you through the slit, matching your gaze. His paw nudges the door open just a little further as he reaches in.
You hold the paw gratefully. It didn't matter how childish the act is or how small the paw is in comparison to yours, not when it brought a such sense of comfort that few things can match.
The comfort vanishes, replaced by cold weight settling into your stomach, when Pikachu tries to tug your hand outside. Your body stiffens, and you tug back gently.
"Ka..."
He withdraws his paw, and through the now wider crack, you can see his ears pointing down dejectedly, eyes mournful. You swallow, just as sad, as you look outside and see how much everyone is enjoying the day.
You slip a finger outside, tentatively. The warmth shining down is incredibly welcoming, a wonderful change from the years of chill in the mountains. Pikachu clutches the single finger, ears perking up. He tugs again, giving an encouraging cry.
But you pull away.
The reporters were just as warm and welcoming, until the questions began, microphones shoved into your face, and the cameras pressed far, far too close for comfort.
Questions, questions, questions.
And you had no time to answer even a single one, much less the barrage.
"Pi... Pika." Pikachu peers through the narrow opening again, a paw reaching towards you. When you rest your finger on it, he slips inside to be with you, allowing the door to close completely behind him. He climbs into your lap, then puts his paws onto your left arms. With that, he has enough leverage to press a cheek to your chest, right over your heart. You rest a hand on top of his head, ever grateful for the understanding your Pokemon have.
Even if you don't talk.
...
Pikachu is looking at you. He gives you an encouraging nuzzle, one he's given you many times before, often after many tough social interactions through your journey. You have a feeling it will return many times more now that you've wholeheartedly decided to settle where others live.
Deciding to try again, you slide open the door, just a crack, and slip a pointer finger through.
A few hours later, with much encouragement from each of your Pokemon, you manage to stick out a thumb as well.