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Red bumps into a lean, tall body in the waiting room while cradling his yellow tabby. The animal gives a surprised squeak, sinking its teeth into Red’s hand for a moment in confusion. The teenager grimaces before gingerly assessing the damage done. No bleeding, yet. He’ll deal with it later.
“Sorry about that, man.” The person in front turns, revealing a teenage boy about Red’s age. He laughs embarrassedly, hand reaching to scratch the behind of his ear. Red shrugs.
“What are you here for?” the boy persists, and Red motions with his chin to the now calmed-down bundle of fur in his arms.
“Well, I’d assume so. But what’s wrong with—” he reaches to grab the tag on the collar, barely evading the vicious snap of jaws from the cat. “—Pikachu…?”
Red would try to formulate a response, but the boy is too busy hiccupping in fits of laughter. He feels his cheeks heat up and curses his ten year old self.
“You named your cat Pikachu? Like, from the cartoon Pokemon?”
Red tries shrugging his way out of this one. He could just blame it on Yellow, or say this was the name given when he adopted the cat or whatever, but that would all involve him taking out his phone while handling Pikachu with one arm. He decides to just swallow his pride this time. Next time he’ll make Yellow take Pikachu to the vet. No way would he volunteer for this shit again.
“I’m sorry man, that was probably rude to some stranger that I just bumped into,” the boy smiles, but still looks contrite. His fingers find the spot just behind his ears again. “But yeah, what’s wrong with…Pikachu?”
Red guesses there's no choice but to balance the squirming cat carefully on one arm in the end. He points at its shedding ears, careful not to make any unwanted contact with the sensitive skin. The boy peers closer, studying the alternating patches of fur and skin curiously. “Fungal infection,” he concludes. Red’s not sure how to respond. Maybe a curt nod will suffice and hopefully disengage this boy from him?
Red realizes how rotten his luck is when the boy tugs him down to sit with him on the sofa instead. “Gramps won’t be done until the dog inside the room stops howling its guts out, and seeing how constipated it is, it won’t be quick.”
Huh. He hadn't known that Dr. Oak had a grandson, much less one as persistent as the boy in front of him. Guess he’s in for a long haul. He sets Pikachu down on the velvet pillow next to him, and it stretches into a satisfying yawn. His eyes do not leave the self-absorbed cat until the boy jabs his sides.
“So, what’s your name? I’m Green, Green Oak.”
Red reluctantly fishes his phone out, and shows the kid his lock screen. Maybe now he’ll leave him alone after reading the description he wrote with the assistance of Yellow. After all, not a lot of people Red met in his life fancied talking to a person who would never give them a verbal response. Yeah, give me that face that everyone gives me. The one where you try to hide the horrified and pitying look with a smile. Red doesn’t mind it any more than he minds not having functioning vocal chords.
“Hm, looks like your parents are color fanatics too. Do you get laughed at? When I was in middle school kids would call me cabbage, broccoli, eggplant, or whatever greens they just got shoved down their throats. Kinda ridiculous, right?”
Red wants to point out that eggplants aren’t green, but he nods anyway, slightly taken aback at how normally Green is still conversing with him. Perhaps all the boy wants is to hear his own voice, which would make Red the perfect candidate for this egomaniac act. He fiddles idly with the loose thread strands of the sofa edge, figuring that he might as well entertain Green by pretend-listening since he has nothing else better to do. Besides, the other boy’s voice drowns out the devastating yelps from inside the main room, which Red would much rather not have to put up with.
“So, I’m assuming you know sign language?” Red can tell that Green is leading to something with that sort of statement, so he nods, wanting to know what this loud boy knows about mute communication. “I learnt a bit of that in an interest club at school. I’m barely past the basics though.”
Red faces him fully and Green flushes from the sudden attention. Cool, he signs. Why did you decide to learn it? Isn’t it hard for a noisy kid like you to communicate without speaking?
“Woah. Sorry dude, I’m not that good at it yet. Still a 2 month old greenie,” he chuckles, the pink in his cheek deepening out of embarrassment. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. Sorry for getting your hopes up.”
Red does feel a little let down, but he shrugs it off. It’s okay, he has his phone to talk to people. He’s about to type everything out but decides to leave the last sentence out because hey, Green was proving to be a nicer kid than he initially thought. Red knows he tends to distrust people more than they deserve, and has bad first impressions of just about everyone. He doesn’t know whether this is because of his muteness making him paranoid, or due to the environment he grew up in.
"Hey, the dog's gone quiet now. Maybe Gramps managed to do his job right for once," Green winks. Red frowns and wonders why a grandson would say such a thing and lose his grandfather business. Still, whatever he's getting at, Red decides that he will still come back, if only to hear Green talk again. His voice enchants him, in a way; Red can't believe someone's won his trust, and so quickly.
It’s almost as if they’ve met before.