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It’s tradition to ring in the New Year with a battle, for trainers. If you win, it’s good luck. If you lose, it’s bad luck. Just like any other traditions, there’s a preferable outcome, and there’s an outcome you want to avoid at any cost.
What makes this year different is it’s the first year Red and Blue are spending it together. As a couple. In a relationship.
Because tradition says, in the first year of a relationship, you let your partner win. At least, for relationships between a man and a woman. The man will often lose, no matter the skill, because it’s considered polite, even somewhat romantic. He’ll use a weaker Pokémon, or one with a type disadvantage to hers. How sweet, to ensure your new girlfriend has good luck for the rest of the year. (Red thinks it’s silly, and incredibly demeaning, but he’s never claimed to understand people other than Blue.)
The issue lies in gender. There is no tradition for two men. So Red doesn’t really know what to do.
Blue will probably threaten to break up if Red throws the match. But, Blue will probably (definitely) complain if he loses, and will whine about it for the rest of the year. And Blue will probably (definitely) brag if he wins, and will boast about it for the rest of the year. The one thing Red hates more than Blue’s bragging is Blue’s whining. So...he should lose. Right? But Blue will threaten to break up with him if he throws it. But if Red does his best, it’s very likely he’ll win; their win-lose ratio is currently in Red’s favor.
He should focus on making Blue happy, he supposes. Which would mean Red should lose. Which means he’d be throwing the match. Which he can’t do, because Blue will threaten to break up with him if he does.
There is no winning in this situation. No matter what, Red loses.
As the clock counts down another hour, Red finds himself nervous. What if he makes up some excuse? He can’t battle tonight; all he has right now are eggs. They’d have to stop at the center and withdraw his team, and the center is closed until the second. No, that’d never work. Mainly, because Red has no eggs, not even in storage.
He’s become so conflicted he’s begun pacing around the apartment, and doesn’t realize he has been for the last thirty minutes until Blue beckons him to sit on the couch because he’s wearing a hole in the floor. When he’s sat down, Blue sets his wine glass on the coffee table and scoots over to sling his legs over Red’s. He groans when Red’s legs start bouncing so vigorously his feet slip right off his lap and hit the floor with a thud. “Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Nothing.
“Bullshit. You’ve been acting freaky for the last two hours. Spit it out.” Blue leans close, getting right up in his space, hands planted firmly on his thighs. Red averts his eyes with a grimace. Blue lets out an annoyed sigh. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “Fine. Whatever. Suffer, then. See if I care.”
With that, Blue backs off and away. That wasn’t what he wanted. Red scoots over. Blue moves away more. Red scoots over more subtly. Blue moves to the opposite end of the couch. Oh, so that’s what they’re doing. Blue’s not even looking at him, so Red feigns dismissal. Let Blue think he’s letting it go. Until he springs into action and lunges out to barely brush Blue’s arm with his fingertips as Blue leaps up from the couch. “Oh, no, you’re not getting me that easy.”
Red clicks his tongue. Stay still.
“Why? So you can catch me? Not likely.” Blue crosses his arms. Red has half a thought to chuck an empty ball at his head, but decides against it. Blue’s catch rate is probably less than one, especially right now. “Not until you tell me what’s on your mind.”
Red considers it. No.
“Then hands off.” Red pouts and gives Blue his saddest eyes. He’s proud to see Blue force his face away so he doesn’t have to look anymore. He simply can’t resist Red’s greatest weapon – being cute. “That’s not gonna work,” he warns. “Not this time. Quit it.”
Red considers it. He makes a pathetic little whimper that would rival Eevee’s begging. And with that, Blue’s resolve breaks, and he throws his hands up in the air with a scoff and a head shake. “You’re ridiculous.”
It worked.
“Whatever.”
Red opens his arms in a waiting hug. Blue frowns before he gives in, flopping back onto the couch and into Red’s lap with a heavy sigh. He presses buttons on the remote, clicking away from the movie that was on back to the news. The anchor makes note of yet another hour counted down, one less hour to wait until the year begins anew. There’s a massive block party in Saffron, there’s always a massive block party in Saffron, but they didn’t go because they never go, even though Sabrina invites them every year.
Blue always makes up some excuse for the two of them, for Red’s sake (and his own.) They were going to be out of town. They came down with something and were sick. They already had plans with family. It always worked, somehow; Red’s pretty sure Sabrina can read their minds and tell they’re lying. But they watched it, every year, for the last twenty years.
They watched trainers battling in the streets, they watched the fireworks that lit up the sky above the scrapers, they watched the giant projected clock on the Silph Co. building slowly tick down the minutes until New Year’s Day. First from Red’s bedroom, then from their apartment living room. But, those years had all been as friends. Until last year, when Blue won their battle and seconds later, as soon as clock struck midnight, flung himself into Red’s arms and kissed him.
What about this year?
“You’re nervous about the battle.” Red instantly tenses up. Blue laughs. How does he do that? “Come on, it’s obvious. Scared you’ll lose?” He tilts his head to look back at Red for a moment with a grin before returning his attention to the television. “...we don’t have to, you know. It’s just a silly superstition.”
It’s harder to sign in a way Blue can easily see, in this position, so Red uses Blue’s body as if it were his own. It’s awkward, but it works, and this way, he doesn’t have to make Blue move. He drums his fingers on Blue’s stomach for a moment, thinking.
You believe it.
“Uh, who said that?”
You.
“When?”
Every year.
“Oh, whatever. That’s a gross exaggeration.”
An exaggeration? Every time he loses, Blue blames all his losses on the bad luck. Every time he wins, he attributes all his wins to the good luck. It’s a silly superstition, sure, but to Blue, it holds weight. Of the two of them, Red is the skeptic.
So it doesn’t matter.
“I didn’t say that.”
Hypocrite.
Blue makes a frustrated noise. He huffs, he shifts in Red’s arms, and he’s probably rolling his eyes but Red can’t see it. “Okay, maybe I want to. Maybe. But, I mean, we always do. It’d be weird not to. Why wouldn’t we?”
He has a point. Ever since they became trainers, they battled each other to ring in the new year. A whole ten years of battles. But, all those fights were just as friends. As rivals. Red frowns. This year is different.
We’re dating.
“...so…? What does that have to do with anything?”
You know. We’re dating. You know.
“I...don’t? What the hell are you talking about...?” Then, Blue startles and gasps, and a loud laugh shakes his whole body. “Oh!” He exclaims between laughs. “You – you mean about letting me win! Ha!”
Blue could let Red win, but as if that would happen. Then, his laughter peters off, and with mirth still in his voice, he says exactly what Red thought he’d say: “If you throw the match I’m breaking up with you and kicking you out.”
Oh, the kicking him out is new. An unexpected, additional threat.
So depending on how well Red decides to fight, he might come out of it with one less boyfriend, and one less bed. This doesn’t exactly help his predicament. His frown deepens.
Sensing his uneasiness, Blue spins around in Red’s arms to straddle his lap. His drapes his arms over Red’s shoulders and gives him a winning smile. “Stop stressing about it. Just give me a good fight, okay? Like you do every year. It doesn’t matter who wins, we’ll have fun. Right?”
Red can do that. Blue will be annoying no matter what the outcome is. (But, that’s normal, he supposes.) With a small nod, he leans in and presses a kiss to Blue’s waiting lips.