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“Whoa, hey, check this out.”
Red pokes his head out from between bookshelves. Blue’s sitting down, surrounded by mountains of nicely stacked textbooks and papers, staring at something in his lap. He’s not even looking at Red; he’s too focused on whatever he’s got. “...huh?”
“Come here.” Blue waves him over. “Come here.”
Red squeezes around the stacks of books and piles of papers and steps carefully over old textbooks to make his way over to Blue. In his lap is a large folder. Cellophane crinkles as he leafs through the pages. Red catches glimpses of color, of black and white and sepia as he gets closer.
Oh. He’s looking at a photo album.
Blue laughs, a little sadly. “I can’t believe this was in here. I mean, jeez. It was buried under a bunch of papers from the nineties. Didn’t take the old man to be the sentimental type, but you learn something new every day, I guess...”
Going through Oak’s stuff was really a job for at least twenty people, but Blue told all the lab techs to ‘eff off’ and enlisted only Red’s help, probably for this exact reason. Most of what they’ve found and attempted to organize into piles of ‘keep and toss’ has pretty much been nothing but rejected papers and rough drafts of rough drafts and random notes and outdated books filled with outdated information.
The room is so completely stuffed full of things that all other noise is dampened. It’s raining outside, but it sounds muffled. There’s one window, but it’s blocked by an overflowing bookshelf. It’s hot, and stuffy. Red’s sweating, but the air is so dry, any and all moisture is sucked up by dust and musty papers – he’s already downed his water bottle and half of Blue’s. The vents in the floor are all covered up; he has no idea where they are, but he knows there are some in here, because every other room in the building has ventilation.
Yet somehow, of course, despite the generally hectic nature of the Professor and his incredibly disorganized library, he was always able to find exactly what he needed in no time flat. There was a system in place that no one else knew. With him gone, it’s anyone’s guess as to what it was, or what it was supposed to be. As far as Red’s managed to deduce, there was no rhyme or reason. It all seems completely random. It’s a miracle Oak never got buried under all these dusty old manuscripts and reference books.
But between all the garbage, there’s been personal artifacts – things that Blue didn’t want anyone else but them to see. So far, Red’s found a few of Blue’s old school projects, all labeled FOR GRAMPS with smiley faces, all with impossibly perfect scores. Blue’s found notebooks filled with Pokémon themed poetry, some good and some not so good. Red’s found a dusty picture frame with Blue’s parents, two people neither of them ever knew. And now, Blue’s found an old photo album.
He leans down and presses a kiss to Blue’s forehead before he bumps it with his own. Blue’s finger traces over a particular picture, a Polaroid, depicting a newborn baby swaddled in a fluffy blanket, eyes squinted shut at the big bright world surrounding it. Written under it in Oak’s small, scratchy script, the words:
Shigeru – 22-11-84. Welcome to the world.
Next to that one, a photo of a six-year-old Daisy, holding the freshly born baby Blue, in an armchair, dated the day after Blue’s birthday. She looks miserable. It’s the most unsettled and unhappy Red has ever seen her; it almost looks like Blue was foisted upon her, and she was forced to sit and take the picture. (She clearly didn’t want a sibling.) He was so tiny, so fragile, even in Daisy’s thin arms. And beside that one, a photo of Oak, holding his new grandson in the same armchair. Blue looks absolutely minuscule in his grandfather’s hands.
All the Polaroids and photographs are dated chronologically. Each one Blue is in, he looks a little bit different. His hair slowly starts to grow in more. His hands begin to reach towards the flash of the camera. His heterochromia becomes more pronounced. He starts smiling for the picture, for Oak, toothless but still adorable.
It’s hard to imagine he was ever that small, but the proof is right here – proof that there was a time before.
It’s moments like this when Red really feels the small gap between their age. For nine months, there was only Blue. Red didn’t exist, yet. Well, he did, technically, but his mother probably had no idea she was pregnant when Blue was born. Blue was starting to speak by the time Red was born. (He really has always been one step ahead.) “Oh, look,” Blue says suddenly as he’s slowly flipping through time and memories. “There’s a familiar face. Aw, look at you, with your chubby cheeks. So cute.”
It’s a photograph, rather than a Polaroid, faded with age; the whites are more yellow than white. Blue slips it out of the sleeve carefully to examine it closer. Blue in the past sits beside Red, who looks only a few months old, in a play pen. Blue is either holding a toy out, or taking it back. “‘Red and Shigeru, 22-11-85. Shigeru’s first birthday. Learning to share with his new friend,’” Blue reads aloud from the back of the picture. He snorts. “Wow, we actually used to get along.”
And after that, Red is in almost every picture that Blue is in. They begin to grow up together. Red is sitting up without help. Blue is trying to teach Red to stand. Red is crawling. Blue is holding Red’s hand to help him keep his balance on two feet. Blue and Red napping together. Blue and Red reading together. Blue and Red chasing a Rattata together. Blue and Red fishing up Magikarp together. Blue and Red. Blue and Red. Blue and Red.
Until they stop.
The last picture in the album is of Red, next to an empty sleeve. He remembers this picture, very well, even though it’s nearly thirty years old, now. He’s eleven. He has a small, awkward smile on his face. Pikachu is on his shoulder. (That sight alone is enough to tug at his heart.) He’s in the Hall of Fame. Red almost closes the album on Blue’s hand, because they’ve seen enough and there’s no need to bring up bad memories, especially not now, but Blue is already pulling the photograph from it’s sleeve because he can’t help himself.
“‘Red – 27-02-96. Kanto’s newest Champion. Shi...’” He pauses and trails off. His frown wavers. He rubs the heel of his hand against his eye. Red reaches out to take the picture from him, and he lets it go without a fight. “‘...Shigeru ran off before I could take his picture,’” he finishes. “Ha. Wonder why. Ah, shit, man.”
Red wipes a stray tear away from Blue’s cheek. He leans into Red’s hand, and sighs when Red runs his thumb over his lashes. “...life didn’t stop after that day,” he says softly. There’s more albums in here somewhere, he’s sure of it. More albums filled with Blue’s accomplishments, with good memories rather than painful ones. There has to be, because Oak never stopped taking pictures.
“No, it didn’t. Thank Arceus.” Blue clears his throat. “I, uh...I think I’m gonna step out for a sec, get some fresh air. This dust is getting to me. You gonna be okay in here by yourself?”
Oh. Blue doesn’t want his company this time. So he’s either going to smoke, cry, or both. Red nods. With that, Blue snaps the album shut, sets it aside, and stands from the floor, using Red’s shoulder as a crutch. Red looks up at him, silently asking if he’ll be alright. Blue attempts to smile in response, but it comes across too forced, and looks more like a grimace. He says nothing as he side-steps his organized piles, lunges over toppled stacks of books, and crunches paper under his heel in his haste to leave. Red hears the door to the reference room creak open and slam shut, and he’s alone.
Red looks around himself. He is completely surrounded by shelves and shelves of outdated textbooks and boring papers and unlabeled files and useless junk and precious memories and he only cares about one of those things. Why did he say he’d be okay? This is a lot of work for one person. He’s already overwhelmed and it hasn’t even been two minutes.
Where the hell would Oak keep more photo albums? Buried under more old papers from the nineties, probably. But those are everywhere. Literally, everywhere. The whole room looks like a stampede of Tauros ran through, and then a flock of Spearow whipped up a Hurricane immediately after, except for the tiny pile of things that Blue has managed to organize over the last two hours. Red worries his lip. He needs to find another album, for Blue. He focuses on one bookshelf, the one directly to his left, the one Blue had been working on, and begins his search.
No one was ever allowed in here, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious as to why. One person could walk around in here, kind of. Two was pushing it. Three, and it would quickly become a game of Twister. One foot here, one foot there, and hope you don’t trip over each other. Red’s had to suck his gut in to squeeze between a couple shelves, and he’s heard Blue knock stuff over and swear when his hip accidentally bumped into something.
Hopefully Blue didn’t think this was a one-day job. They were probably going to spend the entire week cleaning this place out, especially if they were going to keep getting sidetracked, especially since Blue needed enough space to move his stuff in. His modern textbooks, his relevant research, his papers and references that were published within the last decade.
Red’s seen some things in here dated back to the seventies. Who would need to keep that? It was all so out of date, and filled with nothing but misinformation. There was nothing on dark types, nothing on steel types. Obviously there was nothing about fairy, since that was all Blue’s line of work. There was nothing about the League, because it didn’t exist yet, and wouldn’t for another twenty years. Competitive battle, real competitive battle, where trainers would specifically build teams meant only for battling other trainers, as more than just a hobby, was just barely starting to become mainstream in Kanto back then. And yet, Oak kept it all, for some reason. It meant something, to him.
Something catches his eye. He pulls it from the stack it’s in, clicks his tongue as a rain of papers falls loose and scatters over the floor, and tries to re-bend the crease in the corner. It’s a certificate, from elementary school; he recognized the insignia on the edge. An award for Blue, with a note from their homeroom teacher highlighting all the great work Blue put in during his week-long stint as their class leader. Red finds he’s smiling despite himself as he reads, his lips twitching up more and more as he gets further along the note.
Shigeru’s a wonderful leader. He keeps track of who is good at what, and helps others when they’re struggling. He’s a good friend to his fellow students, and a real natural when it comes to taking charge. He did get in a few small arguments, and a couple disputes, but they were all settled quickly. No matter what he chooses to pursue, I’m sure he’ll be great, as long as he can keep his temper and impulsivity in check.
Blue was right; the old man was the sentimental type, but he kept it behind lock and key, because he had an image to uphold. The image of The Professor, a wise and learned elder, who’s research always came first, who’s family always came second. He looks around for Blue’s ‘keep’ pile, so he can place it on top; Red thinks it’s cute, but Blue will probably want to throw it away.
More papers, more trash. Drafts that were crumpled up and tossed aside because old coffee stains marred them. Outlines of research projects that never came to be. Hypotheses that have since been disproved. Red glances at his watch as he’s shuffling through a mound of rough sketches depicting different bug types; it’s ten minutes to three.
Blue’s been gone for nearly an hour. Maybe he should...no, Blue didn’t want company – he made that pretty clear. He’ll be pissed if Red goes out to find him.
His mind wanders.
What is Blue doing?
He’d been upset when he left. He probably did go outside to get air, because the air in here is thin and dirty. He probably rummaged through Red’s satchel to grab his cigarettes; hopefully he’s not chain-smoking, though he probably is, since it’s been so long. He probably didn’t go sit on the bench outside the lab’s main entrance, because he wanted to be alone, and if he went out the front, people would see him. He probably went out the back, to the ranch, to watch the water type Pokémon play in the rain, to see the Tentacool and Staryu float to the surface of the pond to bask in steady drizzle.
Red can see him, in his mind’s eye: hunched over with his head resting in one hand, a smoke pinched in the other, pretending like he wasn’t crying even though he didn’t have anyone to pretend to. He’s probably chewing on his necklace, he’s probably twisting his wedding band over and over on his finger.
What a crummy day.
Something falls off the edge of the shelf he’s working on as he pushes things around and stands on his toes to reach the back of the top shelf, thudding hard to the wood floor, narrowly missing his foot. It splits open when it lands – and he’s found it. Another album. On display, a whole spread of Blue, Red, and Daisy, looking much older than the last one; they look like teens, here. He snatches it up from the floor and follows the path Blue took, hurrying out of the room.
Red was right; Blue is outside on the pavilion overlooking the ranch, cigarette in hand, necklace in his teeth. When the door clicks shut, he barely moves. “I was wondering when you’d come find me,” he says. His voice is hoarse. “How’s, uh…” He clears his throat. “How’s progress? Making any? ...whatcha got there?”
He sits right next to Blue, their legs pressed close together. He plucks the cigarette out of Blue’s hand, and smothers it on the damp stone under the toe of his shoe, adding to the five other spent filters. He gently places the album on top of their thighs, and opens the cover.
Immediately, they’re greeted by a photo of a teenage Blue in front of Viridian City Gym. He’s posed next to Blastoise and Lance, and he’s holding the keys in his hand with a cheesy grin, a fake smile specifically manufactured for the picture. The caption reads:
Shigeru – spring of ‘99. Viridian’s new Gym Leader!
Fourteen and a Gym Leader. Accomplished beyond his years, but unfathomably miserable and aimless. He didn’t know it yet, but he’d spend the next two years spiraling down a bottomless pit of depression, uncertain and uneasy of where life would lead him next, hyper-focused on and obsessed with mortality and the cost of peaking at such a young age. He would proceed to become the strongest Gym Leader in Kanto’s history, and would remain undefeated until a young girl from Johto comes along to thoroughly thrash him.
He didn’t know it yet, but Red would be running away that summer.
They skim over the next few pages of pictures. Blue mid-battle, shouting commands to Pidgeot. Daisy on stage, performing in contests with Clefairy and Wigglytuff. Dinner parties and celebrations. A vacation to Hoenn, with Blue looking waterlogged and sweaty from the muggy humidity. All things Red never witnessed, some things he never even knew happened. There is a palpable lack of Red in every one of these photos.
Until he suddenly reappears.
It’s startling, how fast it happens. One picture is of Daisy cuddling with her Clefairy on the couch in the Oak living room, and the very next is of Blue and Red sitting together on this same exact bench on the pavilion, arms slung around each other. Blue’s smile is genuine. Red is not smiling, and looks uncomfortable, but he knows he was happy that day; it was the happiest he’d been in a long time. Shigeru and Red – 08-08-02. Red’s 17th birthday.
After that, Red is a mainstay once again.
There’s a ton of their secondary school graduation. Them at the party that was held in the lab foyer after, because there was nowhere else in Pallet to hold a decently sized party, and Blue demanded a decently sized party be held. Blue has his fingers hooked in Red’s mouth, forcing him to smile for the camera. They’re holding their diplomas up. Blue graduated top of the class, Red graduated second-best. Them in their grad gowns, with Daisy, dressed nice with her hair done up, all smiling together.
Next, pictures of them in Unova. Blue points out certain ones, making little comments about the day they were taken, and then they’re reminiscing. Unova, a land of change. Unova, a land of freedom and discovery. Unova, where they officially began dating. Blue’s hand finds his, and he fiddles with Red’s ring, his fingers running along it and twisting it around. It feels so long ago.
Red taps one in particular. Shigeru and Red – 23-06-10. PWT Champs. Blue’s holding a bouquet of flowers with tears in his eyes. His side is flush with Red’s. But Oak’s caption is missing a key, and very important, addition: first date. Blue leans against his shoulder. “Man...was it really that long ago? Then, Kalos was...” Blue doesn’t have to finish his phrase, because Red agrees – that was a really long time ago.
After Unova, they traveled Kalos together. Blue was there to attend university, Red was there to explore and catch Pokémon. There’s only a couple pictures Oak has of Kalos, because he hadn’t accompanied them. There’s one of Blue after his dissertation on the new fairy type, positively radiating with a bright smile on his face. Red remembers that vividly; mostly the nights where Blue would practice presenting to him, and he had to do his best to not fall asleep in the middle. There’s a few of his graduation ceremony, one of him crossing the stage and several of him afterward.
And after Kalos was everywhere, spreading word and educating each regions leading researchers on fairy types. Which local Pokémon could be considered fairy, which ones Blue recommended be changed to fairy type in the regional Pokédex, until it all came to fruition with fairy type being officially recognized on a world-wide scale.
Instead of a photo, there’s a newspaper clipping. There’s Blue, on the front page of Saffron Times, with the headline, Fairy Official! Insider Interview with Blue Oak. And on the opposite side, taped to the page, was the entire interview. Every curious question, every eager answer; Blue has to unfold the paper to see the whole thing. “He…” Blue trails off, eyes scanning down the page, looking at what Oak highlighted and underlined in the article. “He made notes about everything I said. He could’ve just asked me.”
He never would have asked, they both know that. His pride wouldn’t have allowed him to.
There’s several newspaper clippings, from several different regions, all in different languages, all about the new fairy type, all with interviews, all with the entire interview attached. One catches both of their eyes. From Pallet Town Gazette, the headline Like Grandfather Like Grandson. And the photo attached is of Blue and Oak, together, beside the Pallet Town sign. Blue’s breath hitches. Red moves on.
A wedding invitation. You are formally invited to…
And Blue shuts the album. “I’ve seen all of those already,” he reasons, but his voice is tight.
Red’s seen them, too. He’s seen the pictures from the first ceremony, the public ceremony, the one press was allowed to attend. The fake ceremony. He’s seen the pictures from the second ceremony, the real ceremony that took place the day after, the one that had been private, with just his mother, Oak, Daisy and her girlfriend, and their close friends. Red opens the album back up to where his hand had been trapped.
You are formally invited to attend the wedding of Red and Blue Oak, to occur on Friday, 17 November 2017, at 4:00 PM. Location: Hano Grand Hotel Resort and Spa Beach Pavilion, Heahea City, Akkala Island, Alola. Please RSVP before 31 October 2016. Menu will be sent after RSVP has been received. (And in smaller, handwritten script, in the corner of the invitation, in Blue’s writing: you better come.)
The RSVP was filled out accordingly, with Oak’s signature shaky writing: he had no plus one, he had no children under five, he had no special accommodations or allergies. Red remembers Oak asking him if he could keep it, and he said sure because there wasn’t a reason for them to keep it. It was for the fake ceremony, the one they put on for show for the public; Blue threw all those RSVPs away the same night in their hotel suite, before he’d even wiped his make up off.
The first picture is of Blue, dressed in his wedding attire, next to Daisy. But it wasn’t his elegant, elaborate get-up he’d been in for the public ceremony. He was in a simple tuxedo, what he’d worn for their private ceremony. A quick skim over the page showed there are no photos of the first ceremony. Red glances at Blue, who’s staring at the spread in confused surprise.
There’s Kris and Daisy, with their arms around each other, each with a half empty glass of wine in their hands. There’s Ethan, who refused to dress up, kicked back in a chair with his hat tilted over his face. There’s Lyra and Janine, dancing together on the floor to some song that Red can’t recall anymore. There’s Brock and Bruno, standing guard in front of a dozing Erika, forming a blockade to keep everyone from disturbing her nap. There’s an awkward attempt at a selfie of Samson and Oak, cousins reunited for the first time after decades apart.
There’s the impromptu battle tourney they held on the beach. Koga and Janine, Will and Sabrina, Lance and Karen, Lorelei and Misty, Lyra and Kris, Blue and Red. There’s Blue, chatting enthusiastically with Sina and Dexio, probably in French, face flushed and wine drunk. There’s Red, standing with his mother overlooking the ocean together, turned away from the party, talking about the future and if she should expect grandchildren.
Blue and Red swinging each other by the hands, dancing in the middle of everyone else, grins on their faces. Blue and Red shoving cake in each other’s mouths. Blue and Red linking arms and raising glasses to toast. Blue and Red with their faces smashed together, lips locked and arms desperately clinging to each other, behind a flurry of blurred arms and hands shooting up to celebrate. Blue and Red after all the reporters and “important” people left the hotel to go back to their “important” jobs in different regions and different cities, finally able to be themselves, surrounded by nothing but friends and family who loved them.
The last two photos in the album are of Blue and Red together. One is posed, nice and clean and professional, the one from the public ceremony, the one they mailed out as their “official” photograph. It’s the only photo from the first ceremony in the album. The other is of Blue in his tux, with his arm around Red’s neck, his other hand ruffling Red’s hair aggressively, as Red tries to swat him away with a distressed frown on his face. Red and Shigeru – 18-11-17. Same as ever.
The present-day Blue next to him runs his hand through Red’s hair, now, ruffling it up and scratching his scalp with his nails. Same as ever. “...thanks for finding this,” Blue says after a moment, as they’re still looking at those last two pictures together. His finger brushes against his younger face, tracing the bright grin plastered on it, then runs across Red’s scowl. “Life hasn’t stopped.”
“No, it hasn’t.” It feels like it has, a little bit, but it’ll pass. Once they manage to organize everything, once they get everything worked out, once they settle back into their routine, it’ll start back up. It always did. “...how’re you feeling?”
Blue takes a long, long breath, and lets it out in a long, long sigh. “Better.”
“Good.” The rain’s picked back up, again. The droplets cause ripples in the pond, as they plink off the shiny red tops of the Tentacool and gemstones of the Staryu and Starmie. Red makes to stand up, closing the album and tucking it under his arm, but Blue grabs his wrist. “...huh?”
“What’s the rush? Sit with me.” He’s smiling. It’s an easy smile, a real smile, that wrinkles his laugh lines and pinches his cheeks into dimples, one that says he really is okay. Red smiles back. “Mess isn’t going anywhere. We can take our time. Enjoy the weather.”
Red relaxes back against the bench, and Blue inches impossibly closer, settling himself against his side. “Remember when I pushed you in?” Blue asks suddenly, pointing vaguely over to the pond. “And Gramps got pissed because you got mud all over the freshly carpeted floor.”
“Remember when you fell out of the tree and broke your ankle?” Red points over to the giant oak tree at the edge of the property, where a herd of Tauros are taking shelter from the downpour. “And he tried to fix it with a potion before taking you to the hospital?”
Blue chuckles. “What about when we got into a fist fight in the computer room? And he was more concerned about us damaging the equipment. Meanwhile, I’m standing there with a bloody nose and you’ve got a black eye and we’re both still trying to choke each other out.”
“Oh, yeah. Or, when you let a Mankey loose in the reception room, and when it punched a hole through the front desk, you blamed it on me.”
Blue outright laughs at that, bringing another smile to Red’s face. It’s been a while since he’s heard it; loud, boisterous, snorting, wonderful. “We were some shitty kids, weren’t we,” he says, shaking his head. “Man, no wonder he hated me so much.”
Red wraps his arm around Blue’s shoulders. His finger pokes the keystone embedded in Blue’s necklace, where it hangs out his mouth by the chain. There’s no reaction, of course; it’s not attuned to him. “He loved you.”
“Yeah, I know.” Blue sighs again. “...I know.”
The lights flicker on around them as the dim light fades from the sky. The pond illuminates in a soft red glow. A Pidgey lands on the railing in front of them, shaking out its wings before taking back off to its nest in the tree. The rain finally slows to a stop before they make their way back inside.
Back to work. There’s a lot to do.