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Green tries to not let his mind run away from him.
He needs to focus on something, anything, but the gentle swaying of the ship. Nearly four year old scars burn at the edges of his consciousness. The electricity under his skin itches. He knows how to pause it, he knows he could, but he can't move.
Red sleeps, half on top of him. The bed is so small that even their pokemon have no room to force their way into. Between the scratchy sheets and the precarious balance on the edge of the bed, he couldn't hope to sleep even without the burden of his mind. Yet, somehow, Red could sleep deeper than a rock. His chest rises and falls with each deep, even breath.
His best friend is, undeniably, amazing. The living legend, the youngest champion in history, a protege the likes of which the world has never known. Everything Green was meant to be. He tries to swallow the bitter lump forming in his throat. As elusive as he is, as much as he hates the spotlight, Red is placed atop a pedestal. And Green is left to live in his shadow.
He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Jealousy has never done him any good, and that wasn't likely to change now. He wipes his hands on the sheets. No. He isn't the same insecure little boy he used to be.
Green takes a deep breath and redirects his attention to his sleeping friend. Unrestrained by his hat, Red's hair flares out in just about every direction. The soft curls were yet again undone with a brush, leaving behind a frizzy mess. His face is framed with cystic acne that looks painful enough to make Green wince in sympathy, and a couple of ice-pick scars mar his cheek. Lean muscle isn't enough to balance out the gangly limbs or cushion the bony knee digging into Green's thigh.
As extraordinary as Red is, he is just as perfectly normal. He struggles to adjust to indoor living and a rapidly growing body, resulting in lightly bruised arms from repeated smacks into doorways. He is used to things coming natural to him, and he gets frustrated when something doesn't. Communication is likely his weakest point, unrelated to being nonverbal. Like Green, he jumps to conclusions and acts upon them. His devotion goes to the point of self-destruction, leading him to abandon humanity for a boy he believed to hate him. It fed into his dislike of being around humanity; yet, his experiences did not change his love of people. The living legend hardly exists. The truth is that Red is just another awkward teenager.
Green reaches up and brushes Red's hair out of his face. His heart falters slightly under another anxious squeeze. But it occurs to him that he's something special to him. Maybe it's strange, but it feels like they click perfectly in place. Not like a puzzle or two halves of a pokeball, but more like plusle and munin. Soulmates almost, in a purely platonic sense.
Another strange realization hits him. In the chaos of the disaster centering in Hoenn, Valentine's Day has come and gone, and traditions were forgotten. A sour burn settles in the pit of his stomach.
The other boy stirs. Unusual, given he normally sleeps like a rock. Green's heart stutters again, a slight guilt caught in his throat as Red tiredly blinks at him. So he falls into old habits. He puts on his mask of confidence and unnecessarily smug little smirk. "Mornin'."
Red starts to pull away. Green grabs at his shirt, but he is neither fast nor strong enough. Sleep-dazed eyes widen, and limbs flail before Red crashes onto the carpeted floor. There's a weak, raspy groan, and Green blinks as his brain tries to process exactly what just happened.
That moment passes, and he can't just help himself. He guffaws as he looks over the edge of the bed. Red's brows furrow, and his lips purse in a rare moment of a clear facial expression that anyone could read. He reaches up and smacks Green's arm with no real malice.
"Sorry, sorry," he says as he tries to gather himself. Red stands up, frown deepening, and Green nearly breaks out into another fit of giggles. "Come on, I said I was sorry." Despite his words, Green spreads out on the bed before their pokemon can claim the newly freed space. Without much else to do, Red steps away to stare out the window into the night sky.
The long period of silence buzzes under Green's skin, and his exhaustion leaves his mouth ready to run off before his brain can catch up. "We missed Valentine's Day," he blurts out. Red turns to face him with a raised brow. "That means nothing to you, does it?" He shakes his head, and Green sighs. "Yeah, figured you still wouldn't get it." He turns over to stare up at the ceiling. "Have you ever even liked someone. Like, like like?"
When he tilts his head to look at Red again, he is met with a finger pointed at him. Despite himself, Green's cheeks burn. "Not like that! I mean like a crush! Romance!" Red drops his hand and turns his gaze. Green sighs again. "If you have to think about it, then you haven't." He looks back up at the ceiling. "Makes sense that it doesn't matter to you."
He can't hear the footsteps, but he feels the dip in the bed. "Blue and I do something every year," he muses. "When I was in Kalos, she would always convince me to send her fancy chocolates." Another moment passing brings another sigh. "I know that she doesn't have those sorts of feelings for me. And she never will."
A hand settles on his chest, and he looks back at Red. "Can I tell you a secret?" Red nods, so Green continues. "I don't know if I still really hold those feelings for her. I think I might just feel like I'm supposed to." Red's brows furrow slightly. "We're the same, you know. Her and me. But she doesn't like boys, and I'm a boy." He gives a bittersweet chuckle. "I asked her once what if I was a girl. She got unusually serious and reminded me that it doesn't matter because I'll always be a boy. She said that pretending to be something I'm not would only make me unhappy." He whispers. "I can't even remember a time before knowing that." The look Red gives him is something he cannot decipher, so he looks away again.
"Just wanting a romance isn't a good reason to get into a relationship anyway, but it's nice to pretend sometimes." He hears some shuffling next to him, and he turns his head to find Red flipping through the romance book Green had left on the bedside table. Eventually, Red stops on a page, eyes quickly scanning the contents. His brows scrunch up again, and the corners of his lips pull down. "Shut up! You're just uncultured."
Red deadpans and holds the book out. Green reads the first paragraph, and his face immediately bursts out in flames. "No!" He screeches, voice breaking severely as he shoves the book away. "Not like that!" He slaps his hands over his face, the heat of his blush spreading down to his chest. "I meant like dates! Dancing! Amusement parks! That kind of thing!"
It's silent for a moment before the weight next to him leaves the bed. Green further curls up on himself and ignores the noises of a bag being rummaged through. There is another moment of silence, then static. Garbled words and music fragments come through as the radio is tuned. Finally, somehow, a song comes through crystal clear.
Yet Green doesn't move, not until a calloused hand is pulling his own away from his face. "Red," he says and definitely does not whine. "What are you doing?"
With one free hand, the signing is awkward, but Green can still decipher the meaning. 「Happy Valentine's Day.」
The blush that had only just started receding comes back with a vengeance. "It's not Valentine's Day, Red."
「Pretend.」 His lips quirk up slightly, and he takes the other hand still half-covering Green's face.
Green just stares at him for a long moment. "Pretend," he repeats, and Red nods. He starts pulling at his hands, and with only a brief hesitation, Green follows.
Standing together in the middle of the cabin, he watches as Red's brows slightly pinch as his gaze shifts down to his hips and then back up. He places an unsure hand on his waist and the other on his shoulder. "Here," Green chuckles, taking the hand off his hip to hold in his own. "You don't know how to dance, do you Red?" He tries not to laugh again when the other frowns. "Don't worry, just follow my lead."
Red looks down to their feet, and Green just can't help himself. "Hey, Red," he coos, leaning into his Kalosh accent. The other boy raises an eyebrow as he glances back up, but then he's back to staring at the ground. "Don't think too hard about the steps. Just look at me." Green fights back the instinct to try to swallow down his uncertainty. Pretend. A game. A competition. He can't break the illusion that he knows exactly what he's doing.
The first steps are clumsy, to say the least. It takes several measures for them to fall into a semblance of a rhythm, and a song and a half to stop squashing each other's feet every few steps. "You're getting the hang of it, Red," he praises. "Aren't I a great teacher?"
The corners of Red's lips tilt up, and his eyes soften into a gentle amusement. Green's heart stumbles, and he distantly wonders if his hands are really as clammy as they feel. The urge to pull back to wipe them off is nearly impossible to resist. Nearly.
"You better not start taking lessons without me, got it?" He has never been able to keep his mouth shut. Still, Red huffing a silent laugh is worth the slip-up in their competition. Disengaging would bring attention to the thoughts and feelings tangled up with his organs in a knot too complicated to undo.
The embers in Red's eyes spark as his gaze sharpens and he tightens his grasp. An expression he's known since they were six, back when they fought over fruit snacks in blanket forts that would inevitably fall apart during their roughhousing. The warmth of the familiarity eases the worst of the burden in his chest even as it takes his breath.
It's just like Red, to leave Green feeling as steady as the flimsy forts they used to build. The pendent he gave him. His devotion to their promise that Green had broke. The way he usurped him the very day he became champion. His disappearance from the public eye.
His return on that cold, rainy night nearly two months ago.
Their steps fall out of rhythm until they slow to a stop. The determined eyes soften with a silent question. When Green doesn't answer, the hand on his shoulder slides up to his cheek. The silence stretches on, and Red's gaze flickers away, down to one side and then the other as he chews on his lip and tightens his hold on his hand.
"Green--"
Just like his hands, just like his voice, Red's lips are rough and warm.
...
Green pulls back, and when he opens his eyes, all Red does is blink at him.
"Shit--!" Green jolts backwards and shoves Red away as his brain catches up with his actions. "Sorry, I-I--" He swallows the shards in his throat. "That didn't mean anything!" The staccatoed thundering in his ears drowns out everything else. "I-I didn't--"
Calloused fingers wrapping around his wrist is enough to pause the catastrophizing vortex, and the forcible tug starts its regression. Green can't help himself but glance at his friend, the one he might just lose again.
Red wears the same look he did that day.
It breaks Green's heart, being forced to face his mistakes. The way Red grabbed his arm, the way he gathered his voice to ask what he did wrong, the fear and betrayal of Green breaking his promise and telling him they weren't friends anymore. The shards of his heart embed themselves into his lungs and throat.
He fights back against every instinct and pulls Red into what is supposed to be a brief hug. But Red clings to him, refusing to let go in spite of Green's squirming. "H-hey, I need a walk, okay?" He swallows yet again as Red tightens his grasp. "I'll be back. I promise I'll be back." There is a long moment of hesitation, but Red eventually loosens his vice-like grip, allowing him to disengage.
Green pauses, glancing to their belongings. He settles on the hat resting on the post of the bed and wipes his hands on his pants. Another moment of hesitation, and then he grabs it. "I'll return this soon." He gives a shaky smile, somehow forcing himself to look Red in the eye. "This way you know I'll come back, right?"
Red slowly nods, and Green sets the hat on his head. "I'll see you soon, Red." With that, he heads out the door. The shards cut in deeper as he tries to understand his actions.
Why must he always ruin everything?