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It’s… quiet.
He expects the rush of deep sea currents around him to be loud, as loud as the train to Celadon, but it’s as if all noise in the world stopped at the surface of the water.
He watches the bubbles that followed him down here rise back up to the surface, through the shining blue sea he’s spent countless hours of his life staring down at. He can see Lugia swimming above him. Circling, like the Mandibuzz he sees in the Unovan western movies he can’t help but sleep through.
The light from the sky dances across his already blurred vision like a kaleidoscope, the wind above sculpting the waves into a thousand different designs.
Hes always been a chattermouth. Talking to the strangest of people on the magnet train, not understanding what exactly Blue saw in him– when he said quietly that he and the quiet Red were ‘kinda alike’ Ethan was sure he hallucinated. Peeking back through the tiny window at Elm’s lab to a shorter SIlver with a smile and getting a scowl in response on the first day they met. Leaning against pine trees, chatting into the night with his best friend since childhood.
…but standing in front of Lugia had shocked him into silence. Their meeting was solemn, the same way he felt at the Burned Tower and the same way he would later feel at what remained of Cinnabar, and words weren’t necessary. Like he had been at some kind of memorial for the deep-sea creature.
He hadn’t been able to speak then. Not a single word.
He can’t speak now, either. Maybe this deep-blue place is going to become a memorial too. Maybe he really was too reckless, like Silver always says. He shuts his eyes at the idea.
What a way to prove him right.
Ethan grits his teeth, and reaches for the belt around his waist with as much force as one can muster in the deep ocean, feeling for the third Pokéball over. Yeah, the one with a large scratch in it’s surface, earned after a misstep and slip and fall on Mt. Silver. A Pokémon Lyra had given him a long time ago, after finding it’s egg washed up on the Cherrygrove Beach at the beginning of their shared adventure. His numb fingers unclip it from his belt, and hoping he’s right, releases the Pokémon inside.
His Lanturn blinks at him, yellow lure pale and listless in the deep underwater, before nodding and swimming under his arms. The water is heavy and cold and he can’t feel his fingers but he holds on as tight as he can, but when he opens his salt-stung eyes he realizes Lanturn is getting farther away, and he’s being pulled up, and the rush of water around him absolute in its deafening roar.
It’s loud, and cold, and he can finally breathe again even if it hurts. Only now does he see the familiar stark-white wings of a sea guardian around him as they both surface the water. Ethan clings to the back of the deity, shivering in the onshore breeze, coughing out whatever stubborn seawater remained in his throat. Even the concerned chirps of the legendary Pokémon sounded like waves of rain crashing over a roof, but he smiles as it nudges him back to life.
“I’m,” Cough, cough. “Fine. Don’t worry. Hey.” He places a trembling, soothing hand over on of Lugia’s eyes.
Lanturn finally surfaces, eyes wide and innocent as it stares at its trainer and the floating sea monster. Its Pokéball, still open, rests in its fins. He weakly reaches for it (two layers of waterlogged clothes pulling him down) but Lugia’s Extrasensory pulls it into his hands quicker than he can lean over.
“Lanturn, return.” He says hoarsely.
His thoughts return to the sea cavern where he found Lugia when he blinks his heavy, seawater stung eyes. He remembers reaching out and both of them flinching. The Pokémon never dared to hurt him, even when it could have. Maybe that’s why…
“You didn’t want to make things worse?” He looks up at the pure white Pokémon, hoping it understood what he was getting at. Despite his natural talent of connecting with Pokémon, sometimes he couldn’t tell. Lugia made a sound akin to whining and nuzzled him again.
“Big baby. Thank you.” He says through chattering teeth and a tepid pat on Lugia’s head. “Just cold.”
He sat there with his legs curled up under him on Lugia’s back for a long time, petting its neck aimlessly as the sky went from late afternoon to dusk. His breath became steady and his hair had dried before he finally had the strength to move and find a warmer place to be.
The conversation had started like any other until he casually mentioned that he fell into the ocean earlier that afternoon.
“You could have died!” Silver’s frantic voice was scratchy over the cheap, waterlogged speakers of his ancient Pokégear. He’ll have to get it repaired again next time he’s in Goldenrod. “Why did you not call anyone!? Do you like scaring the shit out of the people that care about you!?”
The two of them were lucky the remote Cianwood City Pokémon Center was abandoned at this hour of night, because having a phone call on speaker was embarrassing. It couldn’t be helped, though– most of Ethan’s gear was cut out for exploration and had survived the brief beach trip, but his wired headphones weren’t and didn’t.
The only other person in the dark facility was the night shift nurse, who was busy at work filing away records in a quieter room.
“I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal to you.” Ethan murmurs to the Pokégear on his wrist, fiddling with the hem of his brand-new size-too-big Pokémart T-shirt. At least it was dry.
“That big of a deal? Ethan, how many times has this happened for you to think it’s not a big deal!?”
“I get into trouble on my adventures all the time, you know this! Nothing bad has ever happened.” He retorts.
It was true, only if you’re discounting the time that he got stuck in the foothills of the Lake of Rage during a particularly nasty rainstorm and was sick in bed for a week, or that time he was trapped in the cliffside caves off Olivine for a few hours because the tide was way higher than he expected (even though he could have easily checked ahead of time) and had to swim his way out with Chinchou, or that time way back when he fell through a thoroughly worn bridge in the corners of Slowpoke Well and twisted his ankle and had to challenge the Azalea Gym with a ill-fitting brace slowing him down.
He guesses Silver wouldn’t want to hear about those adventures in particular right now.
“Getting lost in the woods with a full team of Pokémon is not the same as you plunging into the ocean in the middle of nowhere!”
…Oh, yeah, that happened too.
Ethan remembers wandering for a full day in the forest surrounding Ecruteak and thoroughly losing his way back. With a Typhlosion and a Pokégear with satellite GPS, he had been fine, but Silver had still looked at him with muted scorn and worry after he found him on the edges of Route 36.
‘For someone with a champion title, you really are stupid.’ were his poisoned-laced words of concern.
Though, the Seafoam Islands were debatedly not in the middle of nowhere.
“Okay, okay.” Ethan relents, shades of guilt colouring his voice. “I’ll be more careful. This is the first time it happened, so cut me some slack…”
He hears a huff from the other end, Silver seemingly satisfied with the commitment. “How did you even manage to fall off?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I was tired.” Ethan sighs. “We’d been flying for almost 4 hours at that point.”
“...Bring me with you next time.”
Silver had a serious independence streak– sure, the two were closer than they’ve ever been before, but he’d never volunteered himself into Ethan’s shenanigans like that. He peered into the call interface.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to drag you into my messes.”
He expects a sardonic chuckle from Silver, like it's all a one big joke on Ethan, just like it always been. Instead, the boy on the other end goes quiet.
“Silver?” He repeats, unsure if their connection was cut. Cianwood was out of the way, so he wouldn’t be surprised.
“...I’m sure.” He finally says. “Clearly you need someone dragged into them.”
Ethan’s face warmed. Maybe he should start falling into the ocean more often.