Work Text:
It’s morning when Green finds the damp letter outside his door. For Ookido Green, the back seems to say, his eyes barely making out the messy pen-writing. He frowns; in this day and age, he can’t suspect anyone who would write him a letter, anyone who would drop it off.
But Green is busy now, so he leaves it on the desk of his bedroom and rushes out into the rain.
He forgets about it until evening.
The young man slows into his room, body weighed by the anchors of work and crumbles into the sight of his bed. Drenched hair sprinkles rainfall on the sheet as a groan escapes his throat, soaked thick and wet with the grievances of today.
“Arceus,” he breathes. Green is tired.
Eevee mewls at this, out of her Pokéball, and he turns to pet her softly.
The work at the gym, he grumbles, the paperwork, the fieldwork. Signing bills, battling trainers, reporting files. Green is tired, tired, tired of doing it all.
Eevee purrs into his touch.
He’s tired of doing it alone.
It’s been almost three years since his momentous Pokémon journey, years since his grand defeat. Three long years since….
He looks at the letter.
It’s dry now, having sat on the desk for hours on end. The sight of it causes Green’s mind to jump from puddle to puddle, guessing the substance, the sender. He hopes it’s not from the League.
Eevee nudges him with a knowing look in her eyes; now or never, he hears. So Green, ever submissive, slides down from the edge of the bed, pools onto the cool hard floor, reaches forward to grab the envelope. He opens it, sighing, and with worn eyes chained to the ink, he reads.
Green, begins the letter. His breath hitches.
Thank you.
For waiting for me.
Just a little longer now.
Green sees red.
It’s short, stupidly so. It’s a short and stupid letter with a dumb implication replacing the dumb signature of a long-forgotten legend. He understands it immediately, fingers tensing; Eevee stares him down.
The letter is short and stupid and shouldn’t have such an impact on Green. Because he is over it. Green isn’t waiting, not anymore. It’s normal to live without him now, Green’s life is normal now. The thought of his everyday being defiled by the convenience of a single boy makes him angry, angry, angry. He brings the paper in close.
How dare he come back, Green seethes.
How dare he leave.
It’s frustrating. It’s as though Green’s life still revolves around the broken bonds made with a quiet, quiet kid of his past. Green hates that; he did everything he could to prevent that.
Yet… he can’t help the angry sting in his eyes, the hiccuping of his short breaths; the shaky grip on his letter with the lingering strength of years of regrets.
He can’t help the flood of memories of two friends, hands together, clasped before it all.
For the first time in three years, Green bends over and he cries.
“Red,” he whispers. Red.
He knows better than to blame it on exhaustion.
Then, he thinks of work.
Eevee pads around, eyes narrowing.
Green has to get up, he breathes, wiping away hot tears. He can’t waste time crying over someone who shouldn’t matter. He has things to do, work to complete— (but his legs won’t move). He has important work from the gym— (but the letter is important)— the paperwork, the fieldwork. Signing bills, battling trainers, reporting files. Green is the Viridian Gym Leader; it is his job, this is his responsibility. He has to get up or else he'll drown in more work! (But—)
Just a little longer now.
But suddenly, Green can't think to care.
The rain stops, Eevee is purring, and the letter from Red is still in his hands.
He thinks of Red. Because the boy is a worry, a problem, a bane of his everyday life; because even after three whole years, Red still matters. Green doesn’t have the time for anything else when there’s Red. He doesn’t know if he’s ever had.
It’s funny. Although Red is just one more trouble to deal with, Green feels lighter. He’s still exhausted from work, still exhausted from crying, but all Green can do is think of when he’ll see Red, what he’ll say and do. How he’ll defeat him once and for many more times to come.
Outside his room, the sky is clear, the rain is drying, the sun shines. Green is a plant, Red— his sun, and every worry, every problem around him evaporates.
