Chapter Text
There’s approximately 1.5 gallons of blood in an adult human's body, less for a teenager. Gold knew this only because he had a science test on Friday. That blood should also stay inside the body, because what use does it have lying around on the floor? Not much—something he’s coming to realise. The sunset had turned into nighttime by now, and the only light that illuminated his pale body was the sliver of moonlight that peeked through the trees and clouds above, like an eye in the break of a door from a worried parent checking in on you. Also illuminated by the moon was the blood that trickled from a long gash on his torso, pooling onto the autumn leaves. A cold breeze passed through the trees, sending a chill through his already shaking body. His breathing is sharp and laboured, but he can’t find it in him to slow it down. He must’ve fallen asleep, because last time he tilted his awkwardly angled head to look, there wasn’t nearly that much blood, and his neck now cramped and ached from its position. His headache hasn’t gotten any better; in fact, it’s probably gotten worse, but he can’t tell; everything’s so fuzzy.
He doesn’t remember much right now, but there’s snippets coming back to him. He and his friends, a group of three other boys a few years above him, had set up a makeshift camp in the woods behind a park to light a fire and drink, despite Gold being a year below the drinking age. He passed on any beers offered his way, though, fearing the wrath of his mother if news of what he did got leaked. Besides, his father used to drink, and he didn’t think he could stomach the poison it would taste like on his throat. They were climbing trees, he thinks, joking around on a particularly large one with branches that reached into the sky. Enamoured, he too extended a hand up to the sky, fingers arched forward and ready to curl into the sheet of fabric that made up the sky. A hand grazed his back, pressing ever so slightly against his hoodie, but it was enough to startle him. He was never that coordinated, even if he skateboarded as a hobby, so he fell. If a tree fell in a forest with nobody around, did it even make a sound? Perhaps it didn’t, but the trees around it might’ve. There was a lot of yelling and frantic footsteps, but eventually it fell into silence—silence except for the pained wheezes from the boy scrunched up against the hard forest floor, nursing the side of his torso that slowly began to stain red through his already red hoodie. There was a spark too; he must’ve startled an electric Pokemon too. His body twitched every few minutes, waves of numbness surging through his body. That was most of what he remembered, but Gold believed he was missing a lot, specifically after he'd fallen, because there had to be another reason they left. They were probably finding help and got lost on the way back; that’s what he told himself before blacking out.
Bordering passing out again, with dancing black spots in his vision, Gold fumbled for his phone. His hand felt like it was moving through thick honey, with every action taking double, even triple, the effort that it usually would, even without the spasms that clenched it into a fist. Eventually, clumsy and shaking fingers found the sleek electronic and now worked their way around the edges, searching for the power button. The screen turned on, and he winced at the sudden change in brightness. A new crack was visible too, but he really couldn’t care less as he fumbled to enter his pin. There were a few new messages, each varying in urgency. The first was from his mother, who assumed he was currently at his friend's place playing games or whatever teenage boys do. The second was from Kris, which was actually a series of messages all detailing how her swim meet went, then pestering him for not replying. The last (and shortest) was from Green, just a simple ‘yo’. For some reason, it was his name that stood out the most. He opened their messages and navigated to the call button on the top right, smearing a small trail of blood across the chipped screen.
The phone vibrated in his hand for a few seconds before it went still, and the voice of the other rang through the speakers, one of the only noises in the dark forest he had heard since waking, aside from the occasional call of a Noctowl or Hoothoot.
“Gold?” He asks, his voice raspy. Like he’d been woken up, which, now that Gold looks at the time, he probably just did. It was nearing 1 a.m., and he had arrived here at around 11 p.m. and possibly fallen at 12 a.m.The timeline wasn’t too concrete in his mind; he was too busy trying not to have a panic attack right now. He doesn’t respond, but he must’ve made some noise to announce his presence because he can hear the shuffling of sheets. Maybe it was his breathing, now that he realises it. It sounds like he’s run a marathon, or spent an hour bleeding out on the forest floor, half paralysed.
“ Gold. ” Green tries again, his voice firmer but more worried. There’s more movement on the other end of the phone: footsteps, muffled whispering as a hand is held over the mic, then more footsteps and clothes rustling. “Where are you?"
Gold pried his jaw open and peeled his tongue from the roof of his mouth, slowly and methodically. Everything felt delayed, like he was two steps ahead as his body played at half speed. After a few more seconds, he finally managed to choke out something. A jumble of words, all slotted clumsily after each other with the hopes they were coherent.
“A forest; it’s dark.” He paused to look around, wincing occasionally as his neck protested. “It’s-” He’s cut off by a hiss from his phone. Green was growing impatient. “-Viridian Forest. I’m in Viridian Forest. There was a flash-I think something electric hit me too.”
Appeased by the answer, there were a few moments of silence before the older boy spoke.
“I’m on my way.” It sounded final, and Gold had little doubt that Green was currently hovering his thumb over the end call button. In a burst of energy that he didn’t know he had and probably wasn’t a good sign, Gold inhaled sharply before speaking.
“Please don’t hang up. I-It’s really dark.” I don’t like the dark; it goes unsaid, but Green understands it regardless. It sounded far too whiny for his liking; any hint of his too-cool or casual attitude was buried under fear and tiredness. He almost hung up out of pure shame; embarrassment flooded him as he waited for a response, but he didn’t because he swore he heard rustling a moment ago and would rather die than go head-to-head with an Ariados alone. Another beat of silence.
“Alright.” Then came the stuttering and grumbling of the car engine. He doesn’t allow himself to relax, but he does allow himself to smile, or whatever kind of face he can pull right now. The ache on his side is a dull pain, but it’s still present, twisting whatever expression he wore into one of pain.
Green entertained him as he drove. The short drive to the forest from his house felt like hours, but it still passed in the blink of an eye. Time was weird, especially when his head was swimming faster than a Gyrados. As Green confirmed he was near the entrance of the forest, Gold’s phone decided that now was the best time to shut off. He held his finger against the power button desperately and was faced with the daunting symbol of no battery. He wanted to cry. (He weaky wiped away the wetness clinging to his eyelids.)
Eventually, after what felt like forever, there were pawsteps. Heavy against the leafy ground, with the telltale panting and puffing of a canine pokemon. Arcanine, his mind supplied. Green had an Arcanine. There was another step of pawsteps, though, quick on its feet and chittering like a rodent. Pikachu? Oh , he realised lamely, Red must’ve come too. Though Green never said anything, he should’ve just assumed the other boy was going to come with him. They were practically inseparable, which is why he also wasn’t surprised when he saw two figures chasing after the Pokemon quickly.
It was Red who saw him first, his face blanching at the crumpled sight of him. He weakly waved, but Red had already turned to steer Green towards him. Green was more vocal about his distress, with frantic, horrified swears slipping from his mouth. He was already by his side, crouching with his torch illuminating him, scanning for injuries. He didn’t have to look for long; the smell already gave it away. Red quickly joined Green’s side and unwrapped his scarf from around his neck, offering it to the other person next to him. They communicated through glances alone, and before long, Red was gently rolling Gold onto his side so Green could wrap the scarf around his wound like a makeshift bandage. Gold groaned and attempted to bat away the other, but his attempts to resist were fruitless as he was hoisted up into Green’s arms in a bridal style. Gold never realised Green could be this gentle; as their school’s star quarterback, he felt right in assuming that, but the hands that wrapped around him and carried him were nothing if not cautious.
He felt himself slip into unconsciousness a few times, but forced his eyes to remain open for a little longer, preparing himself for the countless questions he’d be asked any time now. Those questions never came though; instead, it was a heavy silence that somehow sounded louder than if anyone spoke. It was thick and viscous, like tar. It was disappointment—disappointment at Gold, but more specifically at his friends. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to realise that Green didn’t like them. They’re not nice per se; in fact, they can be quite the bullies to those they don’t like, but they like Gold, so he thinks they’re okay. It’s a mutual respect, one he’s fostered for the better half of his time in high school.
There’s no overlap between his two friend groups, and he’s made sure of that. If Green disliked them, then Red despised them, which was frankly impressive. In his time knowing the quiet boy, he’s come to find that he’s rather merciful. To piss him off to the point of hatred was to condemn yourself to alienation from an entire section of his year, especially with Green’s influence behind him. Like a guard dog, Green always found a way to chase off the gaggle of teenagers before they could get a word out directed at either of them. He doesn’t know why, though; any attempt to question the pair would just lead him in circles; no matter how many times he chased up on it, he’d grow dizzy and spin out before he reached anywhere.
Speaking of being dizzy, the world’s spinning out again. Gold squeezes his eyes shut tightly and fights the rising wave of nausea that crashes over him. His breath, still elated and almost painful in his throat, hitches. The nausea slows down, and he peeks one eye open, recognising the beat-up exterior of Green’s car. He’s never been so glad to see the rusty eyesore. He’s been begging for the other to get repainted, but every time he asks, he gets a scoff in response. Green recalls his Arcanine, but Red’s Pikachu climbs into the front seat of the car, chirping away to its owner as if he could understand him (and he probably could; Red was a natural with Pokemon).
Red takes the wheel as Green sets Gold down in the backseat gently, tugging the seatbelt around him and taking the seat besides him. The car shakes a little as it shudders to life, and before he knows it, they’re driving at a speed that certainly isn’t legal towards the hospital.
“Please don’t tell my mom." He slurs, clumsily wrapping his shaking arms around his body. He feels so small, waiting for the punishment that awaited him fearfully. Green sighs and gives him the most pitiful look he could muster—an odd sight on the usually sneering boy. The look made his skin crawl uncomfortably, and he quickly broke the mutual glancing by scowling at the window.
Gold’s mother was not a bad mother. She was one of the hardest-working mothers that Gold’s ever seen (though he might be slightly biassed). Despite it just being the two of them in the house, neither of them had a moment of spare in their busy schedules. So when her job offered her a temporary position in another city, hours away by plane ride, Gold was the first one to tell her to take it. That way, they’d both get their own type of “holiday” and get time to themselves. Everything was going okay until tonight. He swallowed back a frustrated growl, but he couldn’t keep down the lump that was forming alongside the tears prickling in his eyes.
The back half of the car illuminated as Green began to swipe through his phone, frantically swapping between apps while trying to keep Gold steady when the car took a particularly sharp turn. From where he was angled, leaning against the window, he could see the warped and blurry reflection of the screen. Green opened a new chat box and hesitated for a moment before typing out a series of messages. Everything was so bright, so he squeezed his eyes shut and rested his head on the cool window, another shuddering breath exiting his body just before it tensed, causing the boy to curl in on himself.
“Almost there, buddy.” Green whispered and patted his shoulder gently, but his half made contact with a patch of grazed skin, which pulled a wince out of him. Red finally turned the car into the parking lot of the hospital, and Green flung his door open quickly, hurrying around to the other side to help the injured boy out of the vehicle. Red remained seated, his face pale and his fingers drumming against the wheel as he waited for them both to exit. The two older boys shared another silent look and nodded at each other, and the moment the door was closed and Green had his arm slung around Gold’s back for support, the car rolled from where it sat idle and began to search for a parking spot. The raven-haired boy let out a confused whine as he watched it drive away, but allowed himself to be ushered inside the bright building.
It was disorienting stepping into the chemically clean lobby, glaring white lights illuminating the worse-for-wear pair like a spotlight. There were a few stifled gasps and wide-eyed looks, but Green paid them no mind as he dragged Gold towards the counter. A Chansey fluttered towards them and came to the other side of Gold with a worried glance, looking him up and down. Now, quicker thanks to the Pokemon, the trio made it to the reception and before a tired-looking desk lady. Slowly, she dragged her eyes up from her computer screen and to Gold, but quickly sobered up when she saw the blood coating the boy's clothes.
“It’s not my blood!” Green hurries to assure her, but that does little to comfort her. The Chansey sifts Gold so that he’s now fully learning on her and begins to guide him towards the emergency unit, freeing up Green to speak to the receptionist. She adjusts her glasses and begins to type on her computer. She opens her mouth to ask something, but Green beats her to the punch. He's too used to relaying information in such a format from the times he’s been to the hospital himself.
“Gold Fernandez, sixteen, male, no allergies. I found him in Viridian Forest, and he mentioned something about an electric Pokemon. I think he fell from a tree, and it was really cold so-”
He’s cut off by the receptionist's raised hand as her other one continues to type out the information. A frustrated huff threatens to escape, but he bites it back, opting for a steely glare instead. Finally, her hand slows, and she lowers her hand.
“Do you have his parent’s or guardian’s contact information?” Green hesitates, her lips tugging into a frown momentarily. Gold’s plea repeats, and he sighs, trying to blow out the nerves that flow through his veins.
“Do they have to know?” He tests carefully, prodding on a glass sheet to test its strength. The receptionist looks him up and down, and he can almost see pity in her eyes. Her voice is softer this time, a stark contrast to the sharp angles that jut out from everywhere he looks.
“In a situation like his, we are legally required to notify his caretaker, unless there’s an issue within his household and it is unsafe. Is it..” She prompts, but Green is quick to shake his head.
“Oh! No-No, no! His-” He pauses, trying to figure out how to word this in a way that doesn’t make it worse for everyone. Gold’s mother, from what he’s heard and seen of her, was not abusive, not even close. She was rough; her words were sharper and louder than others, but her heart was always in the right place. Even then, the fallout from this would still be bad, but he’s not sure how to explain that without it seeming like he was sugarcoating it.
“She’s not bad, but she’s hours away from work right now, and she can’t afford to travel here. I-I can give you her number and name, but-” But what? He promised his friend he wouldn’t call her? The hospital wouldn’t accept that as a valid reason. Technically, he wasn’t calling her, but it was still the same betrayal of trust either way. Heart in his mouth, Green fumbled for his phone and opened his contact app, scrolling for her information. The only reason that he had it in the first place, he realised as he began to read the numbers outloud, was for situations exactly like this. It was a few years ago now, after a younger Green brought a scraped and battered Gold home, that she put her number into his phone so she could pick him up next time.
The information was filled out on a form, and the nurse reached for the phone and dialled the number. As the phone rang, she looked at his bloody clothing. Embarrassed, Green folded his equally bloody arms in on himself and looked back down at his phone. A message from Red sat in his notification centre, reading a simple ‘in the parking lot’. He nodded, as if Red were right besides him, before texting a basic two-letter response and looking back at the nurse, then back down at his phone. It was late, and he had football practice tomorrow, a practice he couldn’t afford to miss out on. With a resigned sigh, the ginger pocketed his phone and gave a two-finger salute to the receptionist before strolling out of the building and towards Red’s car.
“Tired?” Red asked as he opened the door, wearing his own tired smile. Green merely hummed and sank into the passenger’s seat, melting into the warmth that the heater was bringing in. Red shifted the gearstick of the beat-up car and pulled out of the parking lot, but before he could leave, Green pointed at a street further down the road.
“Let’s stop at Gold’s first and pick up some clothes ‘n stuff; we can drop it off after practice.” He comments, stifling a yawn. Red hums and guides the steering wheel towards the street before adding something.
“We could ask Kris. She doesn’t have swim meetings on Wednesdays, right?”
It was at that point that Green sharply inhaled before letting out a long groan. Red frowned, though his eyes remained glued to the road.
“What’s wrong?”
Green groans. “We’re gonna have to break the news to Kris tomorrow. Shit, she’s not gonna be happy.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine... mostly”
“Gold was sick for a few days, and she showed up at his window, asking where he was. She’ll kill him for getting hurt, then kill us for not telling her until the day after!”
Red’s throat bobbed, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened, though he didn’t respond. He only hoped Kris wasn’t as strong of a runner as she was a swimmer, because Red valued his life and being uninjured very much. No. Everything was fine. He bit his cheek and turned into Gold's driveway, studying the empty household. Well, not exactly empty, as Red could see the distinct form of a Cyndaquil pacing the living room. He must've left him at home, which was fair considering how combustive they could be. He turns to Green, who's halfway out of the car door already.
"Do you think Gold would mind if we crashed here for the night?"