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His cave, his territory, was unsurprisingly lonesome; no decorations or signs of personal belongings anywhere. It was the perfect place for hiding, really: the entrance was no more than a crack in the wall, a narrow entrance that seemed to test whoever dared entering. Green had felt as though he was being gobbled up entirely, the rocks and the tight grip they held on him pressuring his ribcage. Treading carefully, he had precariously looked at the stalactites that towered the passage, sharp-edged like a mightyena’s fangs, and gulped down, returning his gaze forward.
When they had reached the tiny open space, Green looked hopelessly around, blind in the face of the utter darkness that reigned the place. He stepped backwards when he heard a barely audible crackling noise, and suddenly the whole room was engulfed in light. Blinded and disoriented, Green tripped over himself, clumsily grasping on thin air and clinging to the unknown before his back hit the wall hard. One of the lumpy rocks hit his side, and he clenched his jaw, trapping a yelp of pain in.
When he opened his eyes again, Green’s entire figure was eclipsed by a giant, deep black shadow. A weak light shimmered from behind them, blurring with the black and dying at the core of the shade. It grew bigger, gigantic even, and devoured all the light from Green’s sight.
Then, two red spheres, the only discernible thing in the pitch-black mass, looked directly at him.
Red grabbed him by the shoulders with a strong grip and lifted him up with ease. Green had accidentally gripped his shirt while he was falling and they both had stumbled to the ground. None of them said anything, Green too afraid a shameful whimper would escape his throat.
Red noticed how his legs were trembling and didn’t let go. Green, uncomposed and now trapped, hid his head under his chin, left hand still clutching the fabric of his shirt and the other resting on the wall that protected his heart.
He let his mind drift to times where it was barely noticeable, when he mistook fear as thrill and the horror-induced adrenaline as sheer excitement. He wondered if back then his heart thumped the same way it did now under his fingers, accelerated, with a feathery rhythm. When they were battling, was his heart beating like this too? Red always concealed a wicked smile behind his gesture, glimmery eyes poking under his hat. Green wondered when he started enjoying it; did the gush of battle start when they drew their first pokémon, or did his amusement come from seeing the last one being withdrawn?
It sickened Green.
Red battled again and again, seemingly trapped in an endless cycle in order to seek a fleeting feeling of pressure; it was an obsession, an uncontrollable tsunami, a famish that could only be satisfied by battling again and again, battling anywhere and everywhere, defeating anyone and everyone for the mere pleasure of victory.
He and his pokémon always came strong, and barreled through everything until nothing was left. Red always kept undeterred through it all, but Green felt as though there was something driving Red to unspoken boundaries. If he had to describe it, Green would say it was something akin to something of a kill or be killed battle, an attempt on trying to survive a life-threatening situation.
Red fought with claws and teeth, clinging to every rock and vine each battle to stop falling. So what was the destiny of those that opposed someone whose purpose is to destroy them in order to see the dawn of the next day?
When he became champion, he probably thought there was no more fuel for him. He had become unbelievably strong, ridiculously so, to the point that Lance lasted about five minutes with him. He had nobody to prove his worth or risk his life to; he probably battled at least half of Kanto’s population on his own.
And so, he left.
It made sense to Green: running away to a place where his life —his real life— was in danger every second he did not have the need to draw on the illusion of battle to feel like he could die anytime. Mt. Silver was a desolate place. It was frigid and unpredictable, and the creatures there were steeled by years of living in one of the most harsh environments in the whole region of Kanto, if not the worst one.
Red’s nails were now clasping at his sides, digging into his jacket and dragging him to the ground into a sitting position. Green thought he could be ripped open just by that.
For a second, Red seemed to collapse and Green wondered if he would be able to stop the crumling once he started.
He settled his head on the gap between his shoulder and head, and his right hand travelled from his middle back to his nape, fingers exploring the shorter part of his hair. Red opened his mouth a bit and a shivery breath left his lips, so tiny it would be just enough to set a ribombee off their flying.
He said something in a whisper, an exhale just enough to brush the side of his ear. Then, he extended his hands upwards to cup his face gently, holding his gaze in place, eyes connected to him. Red managed to smile somehow although the wet trail of his tears betrayed him.
Green felt his vision wavering and everything started feeling fuzzy around him. The way he was being held, spoken to… why was it so painfully gentle? Red’s breathing, his words, his touch; all of it was real, yet he let himself wander off to the atrocious Red that lived within his mind.
He wiped off one of Red's tears with his thumb and something grew inside his skin, something that screamed "it's really you".
When his whole body started to crack under his touch and the beast became human to his eyes, words just started floating idly on his mind, all meaning snatched from them.