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It was like playing in a secret base.
The first time Hiyori had invited Shin over, he’d probably said yes too quickly. Friendless and withdrawn, he’d been eager to do all those things that he’d heard most kids did regularly. Hanging out, trying someone else’s cooking (even if he knew in his heart he’d only pick at it), wandering into a private space few would ever get to see, maybe even a sleepover to close the cycle?
The whole way there, he’d been buzzing with nervous, frenetic energy. He’d wondered what Hiyori’s family was like, what his home was like. Did they have any pets? Was it an apartment? A stand-alone house? Where had it been? For once, he was the one staring at Hiyori rather than the reverse, desperate to work it out.
He was so put-together all the time. Values probably instilled by strict parents with something to lose, yet he seemed careless with money. He was constantly wasting it on little things. For Shin, for himself, really any excuse he could find to pull out his card. Shin was pretty sure even having a card wasn’t normal, but with his solidly average upbringing, maybe he just wasn’t aware of how the wealthy did things.
Hiyori never mentioned family, though. Or, well, he rarely did. He’d mentioned his mother in passing, then waved his hand as if to banish the thought. Shin didn’t even remember how she’d come up, just his laugh, “Ahaha, sorry, sorry! I shouldn’t be venting to you. That was rude.” So, he probably wasn’t on great terms with his family. Or, at least, not his mother. A dark cloud swirled in Shin’s mind over the hypothetical dinner. He felt his fingertips shiver.
His eyes traveled over Hiyori’s scarf. Something so personal he seemed to wear all the time, and there were no traces of fur. Shin supposed he could rule out pets, too, then. Well, rule out furry pets — he might still have fish or something… Were fish even pets, or just decorations?
Shin was pretty sure he just made some animal lover roll in their grave.
Hiyori caught his eye. His mouth quirked up in a little smile, eyebrow raised. Shin made a noise that was embarrassingly close to a squeak and looked away.
“I caught you staring, Shin!” That sing-song tone. Shin’s face burned scarlet.
“I-I—“
“Aww, don’t try to hide now,” a cold hand slipped to cup around his own, “you’re trying to plan this whole evening out, aren’t you?”
“M-Maybe…” Shin tugged at his sleeve, chewing on his cheek, “It’s not my fault you’re mysterious!”
Hiyori laughed at that, low and affectionate. He rubbed circles into Shin’s hand. Despite everything, Shin relaxed. “It’s just going to be us. Act how you normally do around me.”
What, cagey and terrified?
Shin swallowed the bite down and nodded instead. Hiyori was safe. He— was still scary. He said weird things, and sometimes he looked at people oddly, especially when they were mean, but he—
He hadn’t hurt Shin.
He wouldn’t hurt Shin.
This couldn’t hurt Shin.
Minutes later, they arrived at a little house in an unassuming corner of town. The outside was neatly kept, not a single plant out of place, not a single unintentional patch of dirt. It hadn’t been the sprawling place Shin had imagined, far from it, and seeing it carried this feeling between being exactly right and not right at all.
Hiyori unlocked the door and they stepped inside. Shin toed off his shoes and nudged them gently by the entryway.
Inside was no less weird.
It wasn’t… like a house out of a magazine, a collection of furniture sets cobbled together to make something cohesive and generically appealing, but it wasn’t a family home either. The furniture was specific, but never quite trendy, nor something that screamed frivolous flaunting of money. There was no couch that had seen way too many years of use but stayed because it still worked and was familiar. There wasn’t a collection of inexpensive chairs around the dining table — which, Shin conceded, seemed to be because there was no dining table — purchased more for necessity than for any aesthetic reason.
Shin couldn’t call this place sterile, but he sure wasn’t calling it comfy either.
A hand slid between his shoulder blades, and Shin tensed briefly. “Just me, Shin,” Hiyori spoke in that too-soft tone. It always got him relaxing against his will. “C’mon, I spent a loooong time setting up a different room, so don’t get too caught up in the mess out here!”
Mess? This place was so clean, Shin was pretty sure even his childhood respiratory system could handle it. Unless he said that to distract Shin from the decoration situation. Regardless, Shin let himself be led to a new room.
Monitors.
They lined the walls of a purple-hued room.
A purple-hued room that was cold.
But the floor was soft. The lighting was gentle. There were two chairs across from each other on a wide desk. Two more monitors were on top of the desk.
Shin crept forward, then slipped onto his knees. Computer towers that glowed softly from within. He didn’t even have to crack them open to see what they were affixed with; he could just peek inside. So he did, gently tugging the blue-lighted one forward.
What was in there had to have cost an eye-watering amount. Top-of-the-line components he was pretty sure anyone wealthy enough to afford them could never actually use, quietly humming along. Real quietly, it was water-cooled, Shin noted.
“That one’s yours,” Hiyori had approached as well, silent as ever, looking down at him while leaning against the desk with one hand. “I hope you don’t mind that the parts are a tiny bit outdated! A friend was giving them away, and I filled in the gaps myself.”
“I— wh-what? No! I’d—“ Shin tried desperately to grab at the words he wanted, swallowing thickly. “This thing is amazing, why would I— it’s mine..?”
“All yours! You’ve been wanting to learn to program, right? I figured you’d need something even better than that laptop of yours, nice as it may be. Especially if you’ll have me as your tutor.”
Shin could cry. He wouldn’t. He definitely wouldn’t, but he could. He looked up at Hiyori with such wide eyes, as if he’d just handed over the stars themselves. The eye contact still had his heart leaping anxiously in his throat, but he didn’t care right now. This was— this was kindness.
It felt so weird.
Shin gently put the computer back in place, hurriedly looking down with a small cough, “Thank you. Seriously. I— yeah. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. From now on, this will be our base of operations.”
And so it was.
It was a little bit of an empty base at first. There were no pictures or decorations anywhere in the house, much less their place of operations, but Shin was quick to change that. He wasn’t even sure what compelled him. Maybe it was the way the chill that set in his bones every time he entered the place wasn’t just cold, or maybe it was a quiet plea for permanence. No matter the case, they installed shelves between the monitors, and Shin brought in whatever he could.
Cat plushies, action figures. The computer room became a refuge for all the things he adored but was too embarrassed to show to the outside world. Hiyori allowed it with fond eyes and a smile.
“You called it a base of operations awhile ago,” Shin found himself saying with a little bit of a laugh, holding yet another little thing, “and I guess it made it feel like the secret bases in Pokémon, so now it only feels right to decorate it like one!”
“Is that so?” Hiyori tipped his head to the side, leaning back in the chair with one leg crossed over the other. He looked so languid, “And how do we do that, hm?”
“W-Well…” Shin shrank back a bit, another flush spreading over his cheeks. Bless the dim light, “There’s all sorts of ways! You can do a lot with the bases, u-um… maybe I should show you?”
Hiyori didn’t light up. He didn’t look any more interested, but he did move to the couch. A silent invite. It was enough for Shin, who dug through his bag in a heartbeat. Nestled between schoolbooks and a mess of supplies was his little blue DS Lite. Worn and scuffed, but in a way that was so clearly loved. The stylus didn’t fit inside the DS anymore, so chewed up from years of menace that it slid right out if Shin tipped it wrong. He was careful not to do that as he held it, pulling out the pouch where he kept a selection of games as well.
Sixteen years old and yet still feeling like a little kid as he scuttled over to the couch. He sat down and fidgeted with the tray at the bottom of the DS. His position lasted all of two minutes before Hiyori pulled him closer, an arm wrapped around his shoulder.
“Don’t be shy now, Shin!” he laughed, and Shin just huffed.
“I was trying not to be weird.” And yet, there he was, relaxing into Hiyori’s chest like it was normal.
“I think you’re long past that phase.”
Shin just elbowed him.
He found his copy of Pokémon Emerald and slid it inside. It clicked into place. His thumb scratched gently at the side of the device until his nail hooked onto the power slider. Forward and back, and the screen lit up with a little song. He lowered the volume just a bit, eyes flicking up at Hiyori.
He was watching Shin more than the screen, but he always did that. Even when programming, he just… stared. As if Shin were a critically endangered species just discovered.
He tried to pretend it didn’t bother him.
The game put him where he usually was at this point. The Battle Frontier. For better or worse, though, he wasn’t looking to show off his skills in that area. Something told him that Hiyori wouldn’t even pretend to care about that, so he left the area quickly.
The directional pad on the DS was worn from use. His fingertips turned from pink to white with the pressure he had to apply. A shame really, even if he had much newer consoles now, he still clung to this game as though it meant everything. And maybe it did.
Skarmory flew him to Rustboro City. From there, he ran up to Route 115. He could still feel Hiyori’s eyes burning into the back of his head. He pressed closer and tried to pretend he was alone.
Shin couldn’t explain why he had chosen this route. He couldn’t explain why he chose the tree that he did. Maybe there was no reason. After all, he never played with anyone else. No one would know the little world he carved out for himself inside the tree. No one would see the carefully concocted house.
A kitchen area. A seating area. Musical tiles in a different section in front of a stage. Plants adorned the rooms, carefully crafted to feel like home.
Plushes represented guests he’d never have.
It was a lonely place, his secret base. Something soft and private, which he stepped through with trepidation and cautious looks up at Hiyori, “So this is… it, I guess,” he laughed under his breath, “Um. It’s a lot less impressive when I’m… right in front of someone, but see what I mean? Nothing here– nothing here serves any purpose, but it… still exists! I still decorated it!”
“No purpose at all?” Hiyori asked, rubbing circles into Shin’s shoulder, “That doesn’t sound right. Games don’t usually add pointless features, now, do they?”
“Well… it’s a social thing, I guess… you’re supposed to collect people’s bases and battle them and stuff, but you know. I’m not exactly some social butterfly here.”
“But you made this anyway,” Hiyori hummed. “Tell me, Shin, is it because you wanted something to prove you’re here?”
“U-uh–” Shin shook his head. “I don’t… think so? I don’t know, what kind of question is that?”
Hiyori only grinned, tapping the tip of his nose, “Not one for you to actually answer. Don’t worry! I get it now.”
“You… do..?”
“Yep! You’ll see!”
Hiyori never left an imprint on any place he went.
Shin had wanted to build a base as a team. He’d wanted the idiosyncrasies to be mutual. To look at any decoration in there and be able to say that it was definitively either his or Hiyori’s doing.
And, well… he could do that.
But it still involved him.
Photographs of Shin lined the walls. Smiling, grinning like nothing was wrong. Like nothing ever would be wrong.
Those were Hiyori’s doing.
He’d loved Shin. Adored him, really. Or, at least, it seemed that way. But, out of context, it felt as though Shin had overtaken everything.
Maybe he had.
Maybe he was selfish. Maybe he was too overbearing. Maybe Hiyori got overwhelmed.
So, Shin was all that could be left. All-consuming because he’d never learned balance.
Even now, the room was warm. Keeping it cold was the one thing Hiyori insisted on, with harsh words and near-murderous glares. So, Shin had kept it cold.
But now he was gone. Now he could turn the heat on max and try to ease out the chill. And he did. Because he was selfish and needy, and demanding, and ruined everything he touched.
There hadn’t been a fight. He wished there had been, but instead, it was just unanswered texts. Hiyori had been distant once. Shin gave him space. He checked in a week later. He wasn’t even sure if the message had been read.
He thought to try other avenues, but what would that do? Confirm the obvious? Instead, he let it fester. Instead, he kept returning to their base, hoping for a clue, an answer, or something that wasn’t… emptiness.
That wasn’t him staring at himself, wondering if he was ever truly loved or just humored.
His eyes flicked over that cat plush he’d brought. He picked it up off the shelf. Years old now, its speaker was a little tinny when he pressed its stomach, but it still meowed. He wondered if he should resent it, if maybe this was where he messed up. But no, this was… small, right? To be so thoroughly abandoned, that would… have to mean he was so thoroughly irredeemable that they couldn’t even talk about it.
Shin wished someone would’ve just talked to him about it.
Because there was something funny about bases built around a single person. Something he’d seen in his Emerald base. Something he saw here.
It was the time-capsule effect.
His old DS Lite had more dead pixels than working ones now. He let it sit in a drawer beside his bed back home, abandoned but not forgotten. If he wanted to open it again, to revisit his old game, then… that same secret base he’d showed off when he was sixteen would be waiting for him now at age twenty.
Those same plushes he’d called his friends without a shred of irony. Those same little music note pads he thought he was doing something profound with. The set up like a house rather than something interesting.
Hiyori should’ve gotten up and walked out of his life forever right there. Shin would have.
And maybe that was the beginning of the end. After all, he’d left only three years later. That was… plenty of time to realize how cringe that was, right? He shouldn’t have been like that. He should’ve listened better. He should have–
He didn’t know.
He didn’t know because this room still echoed back everything that could have been a failure, that could have been a success, because nothing ever felt that wrong, but apparently they were, and what was he supposed to do with that?
What was he supposed to do with any of this? With this heartache and post-it notes that he never took down because yeah apparently the only other things Hiyori could deign himself to leave in his wake were freaking yellow slips of paper all like, ‘heeeeyyy finish erasing me from your memory!! Thankies :D’ and Shin had almost torn them down and torn them up when he’d found them but he stopped himself because he was too sentimental for that and now look at him!
And he hated that he was flashing so rapidly between sadness and anger and yearning and relief because he just wanted one of those things. If he had just one, then maybe he could figure this out. Maybe he could stop coming here and working on those projects he’d started with Hiyori, desperately trying to maintain some sort of normalcy even though hanging out in an abandoned house is exactly the opposite of that, but look, if Hiyori taught him anything it was that nothing was normal, apparently.
The guy hadn’t even been a high school student. Who knows how old he was.
The guy had a job. Who knows what that was.
He was actually rich, because go figure.
He had really great taste in scarves. Shin should be more upset that he’s so willing to wrap it around his throat and pretend it still smelled like him.
And, of course, Shin would still praise him while desperately wanting to point out every single flaw he had, because the only thing that hurt more than realization was action, and more than that? Having his hands bound into not being able to do anything for himself.
You’re so good for me, Shin.
Shin couldn’t cry.
Exactly how I want you.
This couldn’t hurt him.
I love you! And I don’t say that to just anyone, okay?
Shin… sucked in a breath. He leaned forward in the chair, eyes flicking back to one of the old post-its. Soft. Cloying. Too childish.
He took a pen from the holder, a post-it from the stack.
“Nice compliments. I think I missed the part where you meant them, though?”
He looked at it. His shoulders relaxed on his next exhale.
“I hope you’re dead and gone, and I never see you again.”
He put the pen back in the holder.
And tore the note into pieces.