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He takes a deep breath. Heavy chest. The brush goes up and down, constantly, up and down, in a continuous, fluid rhythm. Green’s breath falters, eyes that don’t blink, gaze fixed on the wall and the color that changes, he doesn’t think, he doesn’t want to think, the brush continues repeating the same pattern until the paint runs out, up and down, and Green shoves it back into the paint jar.
Rivers of yellow on his arms, on his clothes. Ponds of yellow staining the floor, creating freckles on his face. Drops of yellow staining his fingers, his hands, and the baseboards in every corner of the apartment.
If Green stops he'll think again so he can't lose focus.
False. Green can think, he thinks about everything, he analyzes everything, he makes everything logical. How many meters the apartment is, how much progress he makes painting every half hour, how much paint he needs to give three coats to each wall, how many days have passed, how many weeks, what time it is, what was the last notification in his pokégear.
Correction: What Green doesn't want is to feel, because feeling is lousy and Green feels lousy.
It was a couple of years since his last visit in Viridian and, after returning to the apartment that for so many years was his home, on a second floor behind the gym, it was strange to see it so empty when in his memory it was always full of brightness and vitality. There wasn’t much difference, it was just a little more enclosed and dark, and the color on the walls worn out, but its essence was still there, the place that gave him a second chance in Kanto was still just as cozy, just as his, even when it never really was.
The person who was working as his temporary replacement as gym leader took all his belongings a few weeks before Green finished working at the Battle Tree and traveled a couple of days to Kalos to vacate his student apartment, sending all his belongings by mail before returning to Kanto. There were things he had to leave and others to sell, there was no point in bringing back a washing machine from Kalos if in Kanto they also sell them, and there were many others he left packed at home under Daisy's safekeeping for when he returned to Viridian, so Green is thankful he at least has an old refrigerator, an incomplete set of dishes, glasses and cups, a coffee table and a futon.
Alola was great but Kalos was more of an adventure than just interesting. Green likes battles, he's passionate about strong trainers, challenges, he feels a special kind of fun that makes his skin bristle and heats his blood in fervor, the sweet taste of victory, the success behind a strategy that works, but lately the desk work has also become enjoyable. Studying, reading, writing essays, all of it instills a different kind of peace than battles do, and that complete difference between the two extremes has become a kind of refuge, a place where he can go back and forth to rest when he feels overwhelmed.
In some ways, Green thinks of taking over the Viridian City gym again as a respite after the intensity of Alola and the demands of Kalos; however, he can't help but have mixed feelings.
Returning to his home region, near the small town he always wanted to escape from, working as a gym leader again and forcing himself to battle with a pokémon team that isn't his personal one in order to give his opponents a chance isn't something that sounds so bad the closer he gets to his 30s and moves away from his 20s. He no longer cares about rumors or hurtful nicknames, he no longer feels that his duty as leader of the last gym is to destroy the dream of young trainers just as in Kanto they ruined his and he rather thinks that it’s simply a way to rest. Sinking a bit into laziness, receiving a couple of opponents a day and doing a mountain of paperwork every night, all that routine he did for years before setting off to try his luck elsewhere now embraces him like an old friend and Green wants to learn to enjoy that comfort for a while before thinking about what to do in the future. He doesn’t know how to stay in the same place for a long time, anyways.
Alola, on the other hand, was just like a dream, like a small lapse. It was one of those experiences of which one only evokes the memories eternally and hides the moments behind the eyelids to call them continuously, to see them when it’s necessary to fill one's heart with what was lived and convince oneself that it was all real and that’s the same reason why Green feels that returning to Kanto is a way to put an end to that dream, to the idyllic experience, and to touch the earth again.
However, a part of his heart stayed there and another part has never felt completely at home here. Maybe Kanto knows it, because it greets him with warm days and winds that lift flower petals to flutter across the blue sky, clear and bright as the sea, as if trying to palliate the pressure Green feels on him and that leaves him breathless, as if assuring him that now it’ll be different, that now he’ll be able to bear it.
That's why Green doesn't want to think about it too much, doesn't want to feel too much.
In the afternoon, together with Daisy, they cleaned and dusted the place, threw out some trash left by the previous tenant and went to buy some things like curtains for the bathroom, carpets, a dish drainer, paint and brushes. Perhaps she saw in Green the obvious conflict, the thrill of stopping in the middle of the living room and looking at the walls stained by the wear and tear of time, by food accidents, by moving, and seeing in it the potential to make that apartment his home again, against the usual internal sabotage, the cursed voice that makes him wonder if it's worth another try.
The arrival of spring in Kanto reminds him of the warm, comfortable climate of Alola, and how everything seems to have been given to him outside the region and not inside.
Green takes another deep breath, repeats again that everything is fine, puts the brush back into the paint bucket, but this time he doesn't pull it out again.
The brush sinks and Green decides to open the living room window facing the balcony to let in the cool, gentle afternoon breeze. Although usually at one end of the balcony he usually hangs clothes and at the other he has a deck set to sit and sunbathe, because of the move there’s nothing there yet, so Green leans on the railing, paint-stained arms relaxing for a moment and, from his position, he watches his pokémon playing in the backyard of the gym.
Unlike how it was in Kalos, in Viridian his pokémon have room to spend their entire day outside of their pokéballs and while there isn't as much sun as in Alola to make his Exeggutor have a super long neck, at least Eevee is entertaining herself by sticking her head inside the flower pots and digging near the bushes along with Arcanine.
The magic is over and that's okay, since long ago Green learned to accept what comes and goes, but the blow of losing Kalos and Alola at the same time was double and he still feels a bit dazed.
The situation causes an uncomfortable empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he knows it's not because he's not used to having nothing to do, because he hasn't owned his time for a long time or because he's now going to be able to wake up and go to bed late.
He closes his eyes and in his position, leaning against the railing, eyes fixed on his pokémon playing below, Green takes a deep breath of the spring scent and recognizes that if he wants to continue on the path of retrospection he must first light a cigarette.
From the pocket of his sweatpant he pulls out a crumpled and almost empty pack, only a couple of cigarettes and one of his many lighters remain. This is one he bought in Alola, it has a cute drawing of a couple of Eevee in a tropical background, flowers, a palm tree and the sea. Just seeing the ridiculousness of the souvenir makes him smile slightly and the pain in his chest seems to subside a bit.
The spark in his hand ignites like a personal firework and he takes one, two, three, deep puffs until it warms his lungs and fills his nose with nicotine aroma before accepting.
Three blows.
It was three blows.
The distance probably made him more fond of his hometown. Green, no stranger to challenges and never one to give up in the face of a hostile outlook, wants to make it work better this time, even if it means forcing himself to love Kanto more than his heart is capable of.
He starts with something simple: He imagines eating kantonian food, swimming at the beach in Pallet Town, escaping to Cinnabar Island when the days in Viridian are too slow and even receiving desperate calls from Lance asking where he is, why he left his job abandoned and if he disappears from his gym on purpose just to annoy him. Green wants to enjoy his return to Kanto, he really does, but he remembers the farewell at the Alola airport, he remembers his feet fixed in a uncomfortable position, his hands gripping his suitcase tightly, his eyes that seemed not to blink for minutes until Red, after a promise to the wind, disappeared among the passengers of the place and Green is sure he’s going to miss more than just the battles and the tropical weather.
Though he wanted to, he didn't ask where Red was going and, no matter how deep he breathed, the oxygen didn't quench the craving that burned inside his chest and that so far, the tobacco smoke can't calm either.
He told him he would wait so it doesn't matter, it doesn't really matter, he already lived with the feeling for so long that he got used to it.
(Bullshit, it really does matter, because Green wants to live in calm and feel his heart at peace.)
The farewell had the flavor of unsent messages, of silenced words, of hidden meanings, but Green believed, and still believes, that it was best to keep the mystery of the truth floating in between them unanswered. Externally to smile and ignore any kind of stumbling thought, to wave a hand in farewell and wish his friend Red a safe journey and internally to tie the wish to a balloon filled with hope and hope that the silence would help keep the fantasy intact.
("Don't worry, call me when you can!"
What a bunch of lies.)
The cigarette burns his throat, the breeze rocks his hair gently like the affection of a mother welcoming her child back home, the humidity clings to his skin and hugs his black shirt, pulls it closer to his body, Green closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of his pokémon having fun. The beginning of spring is a state of mind, it makes him feel melancholic and lonely, but at the same time hopeful and anxious.
Kanto greets him with a mirage of his joyous days in Alola and Green feels he can no longer cope with so much struggle inside him.
Green finishes smoking three cigarettes later and when he looks at what he has left to paint in the living room, he realizes that he’s going to have to go out and buy another pack if he wants to survive sane and healthy for the rest of the night.
Looking at the time on his watch he realizes it's still early, so as he enters the apartment he grabs his wallet that lies abandoned on the kitchen counter and putting on his sneakers, he prepares to head out to shop at the pokemart which is only a few blocks away.
The spring night crashes against his skin and Green shivers softly, there’s a mixture of heat and cold over Viridian that Green recognizes as his own personal battle of discordant emotions.
He doesn't feel well, he doesn't quite recognize why. It could be many things: Inferiority, tiredness, comparison, high expectations that are never met, plans that in his mind look good and when achieved they only leave him feeling a bittersweet taste in his mouth. It could be everything, it could be nothing, but Green knows one thing for sure: He doesn't want to feel this way anymore.
As he walks, the night scenery and the flowers gently swaying in the breeze around him make him remember when he and Daisy used to change the color of their rooms every early spring, buy new clothes, go out to eat and celebrate the change of season as if every year they had a party to thank the time of new opportunities, where the arid becomes fertile, the cold becomes warm and the dull becomes bright.
In the end, returning to Kanto is a new opportunity, one of the many that Green has had lately, so many that he has stopped counting and just takes them, is grateful for them and forces himself to learn to enjoy them.
Being a gym leader, traveling to Unova, studying in Kalos, working in Alola. To wake up and see the sun, to smile and laugh and have a pair of dark eyes smiling back at him, to walk and have someone walking besides him, to talk and have someone listening to him, to stop and have someone waiting for him. Green was part of a happiness conveniently created for him. Right time, right moment, right person. And that's why he doesn't want to ruin the comfort he finally achieved by worrying too much.
What if everything is ruined now? What if it's not as great as Green expected? What if he doesn't like something and gets disappointed? What if this keeps repeating itself and Green never learns to avoid the spirals of self-sabotage? What if he gets bored of waiting and his patience runs out?
What would happen? What would happen? What would happen?
Green isn't patient. He never has been.
He wasn't when he chose his first pokémon in his grampa's lab; he wasn't when he rushed to complete his pokémon journey to get to the League first than Red; he wasn't when he forced himself to be the gym leader of Viridian when Lance proposed it to him; he wasn't when he didn't pass up the opportunity to challenge Red to a battle when he first came down from Mt. Silver after years where no one knew where he was; he wasn't when he hugged him sideways when he saw him in Driftveil City, like someone greeting a friend he hadn't heard from in a long time; he wasn't when he saw the opportunity to escape from Kanto and go to Kalos; he wasn't when he couldn't hide the strange emotion that welled up inside him when he knew he was going to battle together with Red in the Battle Tree, sharing the same experience, the same sights, the same air.
Green left the door open, hoping that meant that one of the possible possibilities would be taken, but for that he must be patient and stop wondering every two seconds what could go wrong.
Maybe, and just maybe, Green isn't meant to be alone.
That’s the conclusion he comes to when he thinks of the laughter that filled the places they shared until they fell silent when they were just the two of them, disappearing like the distance between them, becoming soft touches, light caresses, multicolored signals that made them move forward, stop and retreat multiple times.
Green wasn’t patient in stealing caresses, words, promises, no matter how empty all that was, no matter how meaningless, no matter how stupid, and at that moment he didn't think of anything, he didn't think that everything would fill his heart until explode or that there was a high possibility that one day he would wake up and think that all about this honest emotions is a bad idea and he would go back to Kalos so he wouldn't have to keep facing situations that he likes but may have a fatal outcome.
No, Green isn’t patient.
Not because he doesn't want to be, not because there’s no calm inside him. Green isn’t patient because he wants results and doesn’t want to wait for them, no matter how terrified sometimes he feels to face whatever comes his way. He isn’t patient because waiting means thinking things twice before doing them and Green is action, movement, he’s question, not answer, he’s attack, not defense. If he thinks too much, he’ll feel too much and if he feels too much he’ll probably chicken out and throw away every new opportunity the universe gives him and miss it, and later look back at it and regret it.
Green isn't patient so he doesn't know what the fuck he's waiting for.
Getting in and out of the pokémart is quick. He greets the night shift cashier he recognizes from a few days ago, buys two packs of cigarettes, a disposable lighter just in case and a bunch of snacks to eat with the beer he has in the fridge. He takes a deep breath of air not stale with paint and feels a little more optimistic, forces himself to be optimistic, and when he swipes the card to pay, he feels even a little lighter, a little more like himself and not like his insecurities want him to be.
Before entering back into his apartment he sits down on the staircase leading to the front door and lights another cigarette. His hair is a mess, his hands smell of tobacco, his mouth tastes bitter and his clothes are stained, he went outside like someone who doesn't care about other people's opinions and maybe today Green doesn't care. It's chaotic but there's something cathartic about it, the order he works so hard to project crumbles in his loneliness and so do the masks he puts on himself, so Green holds the cigarette with his lips and pulls his pokégear from his pocket, chest expanded and brimming with bravery, voice whispering carpe diem, carpe diem behind his ears, louder than the sound of his pokémon strangely noisy in the distance.
He's going to send him a message, after weeks, after having promised to wait, and regrets not having asked him where he was going that day at the airport.
He's going to send him a message because he feels intoxicated by the scent of wild flowers, tobacco, fresh paint, wood, memories, loneliness and desire, desire, desire.
He's going to send him a message because his mind will not beat him, because his insecurities will not tell him what to do and what not to do, because Kanto has no power against a soul that every day wakes up hoping to be better.
He's going to send him a message because even in doubt, Green is always brave.
A rattling sounds inside his apartment, when all should be calm and quiet late at night, and Green startles. His pokégear slips from his hands and hits the floor in a hollow, plastic sound, snapping him out of his trance and Green feels like he can breathe again, he lets out a sigh and his chest empties again.
He’s patient again.
The noise inside is persistent. The pokémon continue to play happily in the yard and Green's stomach clenches. He stubs out his cigarette and puts the open pack in his pocket, getting up quizzically.
When he opens the apartment door, his heart leaps: Green has another chance, the universe still loves him more than anyone.
Red is standing on top of old newspapers stained with paint, Pikachu isn’t on his shoulders, he is wearing a black t-shirt and a black sweatpant that matches the one Green is wearing, the same white stripes on the side, the same messy, relaxed hair, the same face with dark circles under his eyes that isn’t used to the new time zone. He turns to look at him, offers no explanation, from his hand the brush with paint drips until it stops on his clothes.
The paint they chose along with Daisy is yellow. Yellow to counteract the uninformed white that makes Green have a headache, yellow because it’s different from the paleness that surrounds the place and because it makes him evoke memories of bakeries, sunrises and subtle touches that create sparks of stars. It’s a pleasant color. It was before it stained Red's skin, it was before it tried to escape by sticking against his face, it was before it contrasted his pretty dark eyes.
Green swallows saliva, he summoned Red and now he’s facing him, almost from the height of the balcony window and as calm as the cooing of the Viridian forest rising behind his back.
Red waves and smiles. Green enters his home sunk in surprise.
"Sorry, everything is a disaster here." He says as he walks in and suddenly feels a little ridiculous for having the apartment in such a messy state. For not having painted more quickly, for not having bought furniture when he had the choice.
No mask can defend him from the starkness of the truth, showing himself to Red empty-handed, like a shipwrecked man in the middle of a storm.
"Daisy said you were painting and I wanted to come help."
Red smiles, ignores the paint dripping down his arm. He doesn't mind standing in the middle of the disaster and in front of the disaster.
"I can see that." He mentions and laughs. If he thinks too hard about it he's going to ruin it, if he hesitates for a second he can go wrong so he just goes with the flow. He could make a fuss about Red showing up after weeks of not hearing from him, barging into his home unannounced, but Green isn't even in the mood to pretend the visit doesn't please him, his controlling personality can wait. "You're welcome to sit on the floor if you want." He adds, heading to the kitchen.
Red nods, sets the paint brush down on top of the pot, unlike how Green did, and sits in the middle of the living room, in the nothingness. There's not much to see aside from shopping bags piled in one corner, the coffee table off to another, and stacks of old newspaper he uses to keep from making such a mess on the hardwood floor when painting, but apparently it's enough to keep Red interested in every place his eyes fall on.
"I didn't know you were in Kanto." Green begins, wishing that his voice didn’t reflect his inner nervousness. The kitchen has an open design so from where he stands he feels Red's gaze on his back. Opening his fridge to find something to offer his unannounced guest he realizes that besides beer he only has leftovers from lunch that are definitely not vegetarian. "I hope you're not hungry." He says as he gives up and turns around, grabbing a couple of beers along with some glasses from the counter.
Red shakes his head and takes the can Green offers him, pouring it into his glass. Green remembers the pokémart bag he abandoned near the dishwasher so he gets up to go get it, taking the opportunity to step out onto the balcony and look down, realizing that the increased noise from the courtyard is due to the company of Red's pokémon playing with his own.
Checking the contents of the bag, he hides the extra pack of cigarettes and the new lighter in a drawer.
"It's your lucky day, champ." Green mentions as he returns while offering a bag of nori ten and another of salty roasted green peas to Red, setting them down on the floor in front of him.
Red thanks with a smile and before opening the bag of nori, he clarifies: "I was in Johto for a few days before I came here."
"Lance?"
Red nods after stuffing his mouth full of nori. Green laughs and sits down across from him, taking a sip of beer straight from his can and setting the glass aside. "Who would have thought you're all business now!"
Red laughs too. "I think I can get used to it."
Green doesn't observe him, it would be too obvious from his position, but he feels the warmth of his body nearby and nods in his mind, he too could get used to unannounced visits, to arriving at his house with Red being inside as if it were his too, to sharing spaces, to not waiting for the next visit, yes, he too could get used to it.
They’re both silent for a few minutes, looking out the window facing the balcony, and Green thinks about what he should say to fill the silence; however, there’s no need for any noise. Green calms down, finally his mind that repeats incessantly that everything is fine is right and there’s a comfort that rests upon them, the same one they shared countless times in Alola and it’s a relief to know that it’s them, not the place where they are, what produces that magic.
"Sorry to barge in, the door was open."
Green said he had left the door open figuratively, not literally; however, he laughs again. The alcohol seems to make everything funnier, lighter, less serious and that's exactly what he needs. "And that meant trespassing? What happened to the reserved and taciturn Red? Did you go back to being your usual nosy self?"
Red smirks, as if laughing at himself.
"Alola changed me."
And as he says it, his smile disappears. It's not frivolous or serious, it's just a thoughtful expression before he takes his first sip of beer from the tall glass Green handed him and it could be the start of a deep conversation about how the years on their backs have changed and shaped them, over and over again, cyclically just like a tide crashing against the rocks on the beach but whatever seriousness has been infused into the mood is instantly countered by the foam mustache that settles on Red's upper lip as he finishes drinking.
Green can't decide between answering "It changed me too" or "It changed us both", so he goes for the third option as he remembers that before all this he had convinced himself that he was a being without patience.
Moonlight entries in through the window. The petals of the berry trees travel near the balcony. The pokémon play incessantly with each other. The spring night is calm, sweet under the bulbs that shine with artificial light above their heads and the scent of old, dusty wood from the floor. The night temperature starts to drop and Green feels like it actually rises, like the bubbles in Red's glass, like the color in his own skin, like when the water boils and everything inside himself threatens to overflow.
He knows what are the doubts that sink his heart now that they’re close, it's not the first time they have done it but the first time in Kanto: Will that give them a different emotion? A more special or less special meaning? In Kanto are they what they were in Alola or was it just a regional privilege? There’s so much to ask, there’s so much that forces him to step back but Green doesn't want to wait passively any longer and fills himself with bravado, moving forward.
The one who doesn’t risk doesn’t win and Green rises a little from his position, one hand resting on the floor for balance, another on Red's shoulder so he doesn’t escape, body in the air affirmed on one of his knees, he only has to stretch a little to reach him.
Red wipes the remnants of foam from his lips before opening them, waiting for him. Green lets out a snort, because he wanted to be the one to wipe it off and their kiss tastes bitter like the beer they share and there’s no tropical heat wetting their necks, no wingull ringing in the distance or the sea crashing loudly near their ears. It’s spring in Kanto, the night is cool and they are two friends who have never done this here before.
None of the terrible things Green's mind insists on making up happen.
The warm kiss grows longer as the seconds pass and Green finds himself crawling to close the distance between them. His legs carefully drape over the food in between until his knees collide with Red's. There’s a moment when they separate, to breathe, to think, Red rests his forehead against Green's and sighs, there’s a soft blush on his cheeks that looks so good on him and Green wants to kiss him again.
Red puts one of his hands on Green's thigh and the other on his waist, inviting him to sit on top of his lap and Green doesn't wait to answer, hands crossing behind his neck and legs resting at the side of Red's. They look at each other, give each other short kisses at the corners of their lips, and sigh, sigh, sigh. They fill the room with hushed words and desires that bristle their skins. They stop and keep going on a couple of times until they kiss again but now more eagerly and Green in impatience forces his tongue against Red's, tasting the inside of his mouth slowly as Red caresses his thighs avidly.
"You taste like cigarettes." He mentions suddenly and his voice echoes through the place, creating a dance that crashes against Green's chest and fills him with butterflies.
Green laughs. He feels Red's hand land on the cigarette pack he hid in his pocket, busted: "And you to nosy."
Red cuts off the kiss to hide in Green's neck and Green nuzzles against him. Red is in a good mood. "You smell like cigarettes too."
Green tries to pull away a little as he feels Red's breath against his neck, nervous, but Red holds him close by grabbing him around the waist.
"You smell like soap." Green replies and that earns him a chuckle. "You took a bath just to come see me?"
Red comes out from his neck to stare at him and although he tries to be intimidating to hide his embarrassment, his blush that previously only rested on his cheeks spreads down his neck to hide under his shirt. He watches Green for a few seconds before attacking his neck again, taking a deep breath of Green's scent as he licks his sensitive skin, kissing him playfully.
"Does the smell of cigarettes bother you?" Green asks after a while in silence, voice contemplative, a little choked. His hands run up and down Red's back giving away caresses in repetitive motions. Up, down, just like the brush against the wall.
Red shakes his head and as he speaks he tickles Green again: "I'm worried about your health."
Green wants to reply that he doesn't need to, that he feels fine, that he's smoking less, but Red bites him lightly without warning, startling him in surprise; however, Green no longer makes a move to pull away and instead stretches to the side to leave his neck exposed, melting under Red's insistent kisses and bites.
Red feels Green's body begin to give in, safe in the middle of his arms, and his breathing becomes louder and more ragged as he reiterates his caresses over and over again.
"How does it feel coming back?" He asks again against his skin, voice deep, tone worried, and Green feels himself melt, his head no longer functioning and his limbs turning to jelly, trapped in Red's arms.
The words take some time before leaving his lips: "Good, good."
He sighs, closes his eyes, smells the scent of paint and Red's shampoo, the warmth of the night and of the body against him. It’s good, it's finally so, so good.
"You sure?"
Green laughs, Red squeezes him against himself and his laughter fades to something more desperate: "It’ll be."
Red pulls away so he can look into his eyes, gaze lost, dark, clouded in desire and Green trembles under it. "It’ll be?" He mentions after a few seconds where he gives himself time to relax and Green can swear he sees his eyes return to their usual color, gentle and calm, dark.
"It will be." Green insists too quickly, so quickly that it seems to be a predetermined excuse under Red's questioning gaze. He takes a breath to sort out his words and rephrases again. "I'll adjust." But he senses it sounds bad coming out of his mouth, so he tries again. "It's not bad, it's just complicated."
Red's blood cools back to its normal temperature, Green realizes it as the grip against his body relaxes a little. He doesn't know what to respond so he remains silent but Red's face shows only pure, loving interest and Green feels like he should be careful about saying more than necessary.
"But do you like it?"
Green knows the answer so he doesn't hesitate to say it: "Yes, that's why I want to make it work."
Perhaps his words come with a double meaning because Red tenses up and Green recognizes that it’s also his answer for that which has not been pronounced between them.
Regardless of what happened in Alola, of the reunion, of starting from scratch, of getting to know each other again, of the sweaty palms in nervousness and the shy kisses that more than once were just a clash between their teeth, that honeymoon phase was only a part of their relationship. It was easy to dream of perfect loves living side by side almost 24/7 but when real life calls them to take their course as they had done before, it's hard to surrender and get used to it, that's why they both know they can't expect their relationship to be free of problems.
They understand, because they decided to give in, because they both looked at each other one day and chose to continue with it even outside the bubble.
"Sorry for not calling." Red mentions and his tone of voice is full of honest regret. His hands caress Green gently, expressing what his voice can’t.
Green has only love to deliver when he speaks: "Don't say sorry, it's okay, you're here now."
And it's okay, honestly, because Green realizes that all that anxiety was unnecessary, because when he sees Red he realizes that the struggle is nothing compared with the joy, so he’s happy.
Red smiles softly in response. Green likes to see him like that, he likes how peace and contentment subtly brighten his face. Red isn’t one for effusive expressions and that's okay, Green likes those gentlenesses, it makes his own extremes calm down, makes his flashing emotions subside.
"You needed your time and yet you came back," Green feels his heart implode from so much pent-up love. "No problem."
Red embraces him again but it's different now. It's not the embrace of two passionate lovers who haven't seen each other in a while but of two lovers who have met again after missing each other and the way they fit together is perfect, muscles that have memory, skin that yearns for each other, bones that squeeze tight enough to express all that is left silent but with utmost care to not hurt, to just love, selflessly and devotedly love.
"You're so good to me." Red says as he separates a little from Green, eyes disappearing into two perfect crescents and small wrinkles on different parts of his face. His hair is messy and his lips swollen from kissing are smiling brightly, in love.
When Green sees him, when Green hears him, he feels an infinite relaxation that rises from the silver of his feet and embraces his whole body. The words his subconscious repeats to sabotage him don't go away, his inferiority complex is still there, but Red's loving words silence them for a moment and Green feels peace, feels that all his effort is worth it.
He gives thanks for every opportunity he received and is grateful that he made the most of them.
His heart fills with the sweetest emotion on the face of the earth and his eyes get emotional to the point of almost crying, but Green swallows back the tears and smiles instead. He would like to give Red thanks for saying that but he just caresses his face instead, ever so gently, watching him to remember the moment, to remember his details, to remember what he feels in that moment having him so close, so his, so different from what they were years ago and so new compared to what he wishes them to have in the future. Green is grateful to feel like time stands still when Red looks at him, when they join hands and intertwine their fingers, because Red always makes him feel like he can take a breath, that he can enjoy the wonderful privilege of existing and sharing his existence together with him.
Red makes him feel like it's okay to be Green.
"Can you stay?" Green asks. His voice is almost shy, almost hesitant and Red's eyes widen in slight surprise, so he takes the opportunity to rephrase. "Stay." He begs.
Red is silent for a second, like someone gathering momentum before a jump, and grabs Green's arm tightly, as if preventing him from moving.
"For how much?"
Green just stares at him without speaking, eyes glassy, little stars shining.
"Whatever I want?"
Green nods and watches the spring spread across Red's face. His dark eyes light up, the corners of his lips lift along with his cheeks and he smiles, with his eyes, his teeth and his whole body. He's so obviously happy he doesn't know how to express it, Green waits for some word but Red can only manage to hug him tightly, arms crossed behind his waist, encircling him, hands squeezing him to his chest until the air is knocked out of him and Green feels small against Red's body, but safe, happy.
"Whatever you want." Green confirms and Red steals a kiss from him again, rougher than before and Green's mind sinks back into deep, calm silence.
Green is going to try, he's going to force himself until it works, because that's what he wants, because that's what he chose and he's happy with it, because the universe loves him, as if he were the brightest star in the firmament, and brought him back to Kanto, and with it brought Red back to him.
Red hugs him tightly and Green does the same. In the middle of Red’s arms Green is part of the universe that loves him so much. There’s nothing to fear, there’s nothing to worry, just exist peacefully.
“The truth is I feel happy
in the shades of these blooming acacias
made to measure my bodyExtraordinarily happy
in the light of these phosphorescent butterflies
who seem cut with scissors
made to measure my soul”— Nicanor Parra, excerpt from “Acta de Independencia” (Obra Gruesa, 1969)