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Black had always been a very possessive person. He never liked to share with anyone, and if something belonged to him he always made sure to go to extra lengths to be sure everyone else knew it, too. It was a well known fact that you didn’t take what was his, and that if he wanted something you had better be sure to give it to him.
When he and Bianca were four, they had met for the first time while playing at the park outside of the Pokémon Daycare on Route Three. Bianca was swinging on the only swing in the park, awkwardly pumping her short legs in such a fashion that she barely rose off the ground. It was more rocking jerkily back and forth, rather than swinging. Regardless, she seemed to be enjoying herself as the swing bobbed up and down, forward and back.
Her laughter was cut short when two small but surprisingly strong hands pressed into her back with a firm shove. She fell to the ground with a sharp squeal and a thud. Through the tears starting to form in her pained green eyes she could make out the image of a boy her age with unruly brown hair, standing above her with a triumphant smirk on his face, the chain of the swing clutched tightly in his small and slightly chubby fist.
“Hey!” she squeaked indignantly, scrambling to stand up and take back her swing. But a cut on the palm of her hand make her stumble in pain and she landed on her bottom in the mulch with an oof. The tears welling in her eyes threatened to spill over.
“What was that for?” she asked in the most accusing voice she could muster. She raised her injured hand to her mouth, sucking lightly on the wound while fixing her attacker with an intimidating glare, or at least, as intimidating as it could be, coming from a small and crying blond, sitting sprawled on the ground with cuts on her hands and knees. The brown haired boy just laughed, clearly not bothered by her less than successful attempt at being scary.
“This swing’s mine now,” he declared. He stuck his tongue out at her and then swung his legs easily over the seat, kicking his legs out at the air to propel himself.
“But I was using it!” Bianca protested, her voice cracking in frustration. But the boy who had stolen her swing didn’t seem to hear her. Instead, he paid no mind to the blonde trembling on the ground with tears glistening in her eyes, completely ignoring her protests as he continued to swing.
“So what’s your name?” she asked, at least wanting to know who this kid was, thinking he had the right to take her swing. Maybe when she got home she could tell Cheren what happened, and he could find him and yell at him for her. Cheren, unlike Bianca, was scary when he yelled. The brunette said nothing, his hair tossing wildly in the wind. He had such a look of content superiority in his brown eyes that it made Bianca scowl in irritation. “You’re a meanie!” she shouted angrily, viciously wiping at the tears in her eyes. She rose to her feet, trying hard to ignore the spike of pain that shot through her hand. “If you won’t give me the swing then I’ll just, I’ll leave!” she threatened, despite the fact that it was a silly threat and exactly what the boy wanted her to do. When she didn’t receive a response she stormed off to the sandbox to sulk, creating sandcastles with her uninjured hand and then glancing over to where he was still swinging before smashing them with one fell swoop of her fist.
Later, when she was sitting on a park bench and playing with the daycare lady’s Audino, who had kindly healed her cuts, the boy walked by her, still wearing that irritatingly smug smile, and without even sparing her a glance, he said “Black, my name is Black. Thanks for letting me have my swing,” and then calmly walked away.
Bianca wanted to explode, shout to him how it wasn’t yours! But she knew it would be to no avail. The sound of the boy, Black, chuckling could be heard from behind her as he walked off to the park exit, hand in hand with his mother.
~~~~~~
When Bianca and Cheren were five and six a new boy moved into Nuvema town with his mother. He was about their age, probably younger than Cheren, and went everywhere with his two pokémon, a Munna and a Rufflet.
One day, when Cheren and Bianca were playing at the small strip of beach on Route One, they noticed the presence of another person, the new kid, who had thus far been content to keep to himself and stay out of their way. Bianca tugged impatiently on Cheren’s shirt and gestured over to where the kid was wrestling with his Rufflet, the Munna hovering silently above the two.
“I know him!” she whispered furiously, although being the naturally loud person she was Bianca was a terrible whisperer, and her voice could still probably be heard for miles. “He stole my swing!”
“Bianca!” Cheren hissed, clamping a hand over the blonde’s mouth. “He can hear -”
But it was too late, as a voice that seemed much too cocky for a five-year-old cut him off and rang out across the beach. “I can hear you, you know.” Cheren’s face turned beet-red in embarrassment as Bianca stared dejectedly at the sand. “And who said I stole your swing? It was mine!”
“Saying mine doesn’t automatically make things yours,” Cheren snapped pointedly. “You can’t take other people’s things just because you want them. You have to ask. Or is the word please not in your vocabulary?” he said with a little too much sarcasm, but that was what he was good at. Black rose to his feet, walking over to where Cheren and Bianca were sitting. Cheren stood too, leaving Bianca to sit alone on the sand and pout. Eventually the two boys where face to face, and Cheren mentally gloated about the fact that he had a good two inches on the boy in height until a hand that was not his was snaking up and plucking the glasses from his face.
“Hey!” he let out an undignified yelp, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at the brunette through his bangs. “I need those to see,” he said impatiently.
Black looked almost hurt, but it was all faked. “But I want them,” he said, matching Cheren’s withering look with one of his own.
“That doesn’t make them yours,” Cheren retorted, whipping out a hand to snatch back the glasses and settle them back in their rightful spot on the bridge of his nose. “Thank you,” he muttered snarkily.
“Yeah, it does!” Black stole the glasses back, putting them on his own face as if to mock the black-haired boy.
“No, Cheren forced out between gritted teeth, “it doesn’t.” He grabbed his glasses angrily off Black’s face and spun hastily on his heel, reaching down a hand to lift Bianca off the ground. “Come on Bianca, let’s go.”
Black’s brown eyes widened in shock. He was so used to always getting whatever he wanted. No one had ever stood up to him like that. He shook himself out of his thoughts to realize that the two kids he had been talking to were walking up the steps back to Route One, ready to return to Nuvema Town. He dashed forward to catch up to them, his hand snagging the wrist of the boy with the glasses and the raven colored hair.
“Wait!” he breathed, trying to regain his breath. The other boy turned to him with one eye brow raised in an impatient and slightly mocking gesture, but Black didn’t miss the flustered blush that had risen to colour his face. “I’m Black,” he said with a goofy grin. He hoped the two weren’t too upset by his usual antics. He had been in the new town for far too long without friends, and things were starting to get lonely. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get to know them.
“Cheren,” the boy with glasses offered cautiously. “And this is Bianca,” he said with a slight nod in the blonde girl’s direction, who was still sulking and gazing hatefully at the ground.
“We’ve met,” Black chuckled. Bianca huffed.
The three new almost-friends walked back into town together, Cheren and Black trying to get to know each other better while Bianca made a point of not acknowledging the newcomer into their group’s existence. When they parted and went their separate ways into their homes, Black’s eyes couldn’t help but curiously linger on boy who had been the first person, with the exception of his mom, to tell him no.
~~~~~~~
Five years later and the three friends were closer than any of them had ever expected to be. They were ten years old, Cheren turning eleven in less than a month, and they were getting ready to start their first year of Trainer’s School.
Not much had changed since the day on the beach all three of them had first met. Of course, Bianca had long since forgiven Black for stealing the swing that had actually been hers, and had found that he was a nice and welcome addition to her and Cheren’s friendship. Black continued to be as possessive and selfish as ever, refusing to share his toys with them and often stealing theirs, claiming them as his own. Cheren was still the only one who ever denied him, usually just shooting Black a disapproving look over the rim of his glasses, but often times the brunette would ignore him and smile his signature toothy grin, pretending nothing had happened. Only occasionally would Cheren verbally reprimand him, leaving Black feeling sheepish and Bianca glad that someone could control the boy.
On the first day of Trainer’s School Black barreled head first into the classroom, Cheren and Bianca stumbling along behind him. They were the first ones to arrive, as Black had been very anxious to get there, and the rest of the classroom was completely empty. Running over to a desk in the middle of the room, Black slung his bag off of his shoulders and unceremoniously dumped his things onto the seat.
“This desk is mine!” he shouted in what was definitely not an indoor voice. “I called it!” His brown eyes were shining with excitement. He had dreamed of winning the Pokémon League his entire life, and now that he finally got to start Trainer’s School he was one step closer. He was so going to win the title of Champion, he just knew it. He was born a winner.
“Black, I know you’re eager to start, but,” Cheren started, only to be interrupted by a loud groan as Black dramatically rolled his eyes.
“What now, Cheren?” he moaned. “Can’t I pick my desk? What’s so wrong with that?”
“The proper thing to do would be to wait and be sure that the teacher doesn’t already have a seating chart in mind before you go deciding where you’re going to sit,” Cheren explained in that infuriatingly sensible voice, the one that said I’m right, don’t argue with me. Bianca nodded meekly in agreement.
“Whatever,” Black huffed, walking over to Cheren and jabbing him in the chest, “Always so worried about the proper thing to do, what the adults will think of him. You’re no fun.” They were so close that Cheren could feel the heat of Black’s breath fanning over his face as he said “Loosen up a little, Cherry,” and had to turn away as he sputtered so his friend wouldn’t see the blush on his face, only worsened by the use of the all too familiar childhood nickname Black had given him as a play on his name, in honor of the way his face colored when he was angry or embarrassed. Bianca just smiled knowingly before Cheren gave her a look that obviously told her to shut up.
A few minutes later when the rest of the students had finished filing in and the teacher had arrived, his seating chart had coincidentally place Black in the same spot he had coined earlier, and Cheren and Bianca on either side of him. Cheren scowled in defeat down at his desk while Black childishly stuck his tongue out at his friend in victory, proud that he had gotten what he wanted and there was nothing Cheren could do about it this time.
~~~~~~~
When Black was fourteen and Cheren fifteen they were lounging on the floor of Black’s cluttered bedroom, staring absently at the ceiling that was covered in posters of pokémon, gym leader, and the heroes from other regions that Black seemed to worship. They were talking about their plans for the future, for in a year’s time they would both, along with Bianca, receive their starter pokémon from Professor Juniper and embark on their journeys. Black couldn’t be more thrilled.
“The title of Champing is SO gonna be MINE!” Black exclaimed, punching the air and kicking out a little with his feet. Cheren tilted his head to the side to look bemusedly at the boy on the floor next to him. Black was glowing with energy. It was obvious that there was nothing else he wanted more in the world. Cheren smiled to himself.
“Slow down there, Black,” he smirked. “Do recall that I’m trying for the same thing you are, along with hundreds of other trainers from across the region. You are aware that you are not without competition, aren’t you?” Black didn’t miss a beat.
“Yeah, but if you really cared about beating me to it you would have left a couple months ago. It’s not like you’re not old enough to start now,” he fired back, eyes glinting playfully. It was true though. Cheren’s fifteenth birthday had been two months ago in September. If he had wanted, he could have already received his pokédex and left Nuvema, but he stayed behind to wait for Black and Bianca. Every time Black brought it up he would adamantly insist that it was to give Black a fair chance, that he wanted to start at the same time as him in order to level the playing field, make things into a sort of competition. Who could beat the Elite Four faster? What his pride would never let him say was that somewhere along the way he had developed feelings, feelings that called for more than just a friendship, for Black, and leaving now meant risking the possibility of not getting to see him for a very long time, or maybe never again, and Cheren knew he would miss the idiotic teen too much for his heart to handle, not that he would ever admit it. He didn’t like to think about it often though. Emotions weren’t really his forte. They were too irrational, and Cheren’s logic didn’t know how to deal with them properly. So for the most of the time he tended to ignore that weird fluttery feeling in his chest and tried to attribute it to something he had eaten that day, rather than his strange longing for Black.
“As if,” Cheren shoved teasingly at Black’s shoulder. “You know I stayed to make things fairer for you. I obviously have the advantage over you, seeing as I’m the most logical out of the two of us. You’re too bullheaded to be able to grasp any sort of concept of strategy, instead you always just rush head first into everything, spouting nonsense about winning the Pokémon League.” This smack talk was routine for them. Black would call Cheren too weak or sympathetic, which Cheren resented, or that he was nervous, and would say that was the reason Cheren was going to start his journey late. Then Cheren would fire back with a snide remark about Black’s bullheadedness, and eventually the constant jibes would cease as they fell into laughter before quietly assuring each other that they didn’t really mean it, that they wholeheartedly (or at least as wholehearted as Cheren could be considering his general dislike for emotions) believed in each other, and would support them no matter what.
“Excuse you, I know strategy plenty well!” Black faked offense, pitching his voice an octave higher than normal to show that he was teasing. Cheren had to bite his lip to prevent an ugly snort of laughter from escaping.
“Well at least I don’t have to have my pokémon eat my head before I’m capable of thinking about anything,” Cheren countered easily, knowing that neither Black nor Musha would mind the comment. They all knew that Cheren didn’t mean it, and that he thought the way Black and Musha worked together was genius, at least, for Black. Cheren wouldn’t allow himself to be too complimentary.
“It’s a smart idea and you know it! You’re just jealous that you didn’t come up with it yourself. Just ‘cause I don’t have glasses doesn’t mean I can’t be smart, Mr. Know-It-All,” Black teased, reaching out to pluck the red frames from the older boy’s face. A snarky comment about how he was glad he hadn’t come up with Black’s dream-eating strategy because that meant he was capable of thinking on his own was on the tip of his tongue, but it died away as Cheren was reminded of the first day they had met, when Black had stolen his glasses and proclaimed them his. So much had happened since then, so much had changed and yet remained the same, and now, as they spoke about leaving for their journeys in a year that day on the beach felt thousands of lightyears away.
“You’re going to be a great trainer someday, Black,” Cheren murmured quietly, the atmosphere of the room suddenly turning serious. The look of mock offense in Black’s eyes turned to one of content fondness as he softly replied, “You too, Cherry.”
~~~~~~~
One year later and the three teens were standing in the lobby of Professor Juniper’s Pokémon lab, anxiously waiting for her to bring them the pokéballs that held the pokémon that would become their partners. They all turned at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, Black tugging his cap down tighter on his head, Cheren leveling his gaze and nervously adjusting his glasses, Bianca’s hand tightening on the strap of her bright green purse in anticipation.
“Good morning, everyone!” Juniper greeted with a smile, walking over to them with a briefcase and a manila file folder in hand. They returned the greeting with hellos of their own as she motioned for them to follow her through the glass doors that opened into her lab.
She set the briefcase down on a lab table and then moved to retrieve three pokéballs from a locked drawer in her desk. Black gritted his teeth with impatience, Cheren smiling in spite of the over eager boy. He had every right to be impatient, he supposed, he had been preparing for this day for at least nine years of his life.
Juniper pressed the button on each of the pokéballs, and three pokémon appeared in a flash of white light. “This is Snivy, Tepig, and Osha-” Juniper began to say, but was cut off when Black started talking. Shouting, more like.
“I know!” he exclaimed, lowering into a crouch in order to be level with the three pokémon. “And you’re going to be mine!” he said as he extended a hand to the Tepig, who looked up at him with wide eyes. “Only if you want to, of course. Whattaya say to being my partner, huh? We can travel the region together! We’re gonna win the Pokémon League!”
“So that’s it?” Cheren cut in. “You’re just going to pick without stopping to consider that maybe Bianca or I wanted Tepig?” he placed his hands on his hips, staring down with a withering glare at the boy at his feet.
“Yep!” Black grinned, unaffected by Cheren’s cool demeanor. He allowed Tepig to climb into his arms. “Besides, you would never have picked a fire type like Tepig anyway. I’ve known you were going to pick Snivy for years now, so I figured you wouldn’t mind.” Black’s grin had started to turn more sheepish than confident until Cheren sputtered and his glare faltered.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, eyeing the brunette curiously.
“Well,” Black stated simply, “You have always been very logical and precise, always calculating your every move. Grass types are very smart, you know,” at this the Snivy seemed to puff out its chest a little, appreciating having her ego stroked by a stranger.
“They think like you, very logical, very thorough,” he continued. “Besides, you always seemed to lean towards Grass types back in Trainer’s School,” he finished, looking pleased with himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind Cheren knew he was probably gaping like an idiot but he couldn’t bring himself to regain his cool. Did Black just analyze me? And correctly, too! It didn’t seem possible.
He was pulled from his thoughts when Bianca chimed “Besides, Snivy kind of looks like you!” Cheren looked down at his feet where the serpentine pokémon was now coiling around his ankles, hissing to get his attention. She did seem pretty neat, Cheren realized, reaching down to allow the pokémon to slither up his arm and onto his shoulder. He turned to face the curious yellow eyes of the grass type.
“What do you think of all of this, Snivy?” he asked dryly, hoping that if the pokémon was going to travel with him it could appreciate his sarcasm. “Would you like to travel with me?” Snivy slinked around his neck, sticking her snout into his raven hair and mussing it up before burrowing into the collar of his jacket, hissing contentedly.
“I think that’s a yes,” Professor Juniper affirmed with a small laugh, obviously used to first time interactions between pokémon and trainers like these. She turned to Bianca next. “So that leaves you with Oshawott,” she gestured to the blue otter Pokémon at her feet, and then saw that Bianca had already taken it in her arms and was stroking its head while it affectionately nuzzled into her touch.
“Yep!” Bianca said cheerfully. “Isn’t he darling? We’re going to be best friends, I just know it!” She smiled, happy with the pokémon she got to start her journey off with.
“Let me guess, you knew Bianca would pick Oshawott, too,” Cheren muttered. Black nodded, scratching sheepishly at the back of his head. The Tepig in his arms snorted playfully at his new trainer’s face, leaving a light layer of soot. The whole room dissolved into laugher as Black tried, to no avail, to get the ash off his face while Tepig squealed along with the others.
They walked out of the lab together, pokémon on their shoulders and new pokédexes tucked safely into their backpacks. Black dashed about them in circles, ranting jubilantly about the Striation City gym leaders, shouting out battle cries and warnings to the three trainers. Cheren and Bianca smiled at the dizzy and the alarmed look on Tepig’s face. Clearly Black’s antics were going to get some getting used to.
“Slow down, Black!” Bianca called. “You can’t just rush ahead without us!”
“Yeah,” Cheren agreed. “Besides, we still have to pass through Accumula Town before we get to Striation City.” Black’s face crumpled with disappointment before lighting up again.
“I know!” he exclaimed, jumping a few feet into the air. Tepig let out and indignant snort at his trainer, but it went unnoticed. “Let’s have a race! First one to Accumula Town gets the best room in the Pokémon Center and I am so totally going to win! It’s mine!” he shouted before sprinting off, only to be yanked to an abrupt stop as Cheren curled a hand around the hood of his jacket.
“Do you not want to come with Bianca and I?” he snapped, irritated that the whole reason he had waited a year to leave had been to travel with them, and yet Black was already trying to leave them behind. “You could wait for us, Bianca and I weren’t planning on splitting up just yet.” Good, throw Bianca in there. Let him know that it’s really not all about him, even though we all know that it is he thought bitterly.
“I have an idea! We should take our first step onto Route at the same time, together!” Bianca said, slipping her hand into Cheren’s and tightening her hold on Oshawott. “What do you say?”
“It’s just a road, Bianca,” Cheren said, looking at the ground. Snivy was asleep in his jacket, a reassuring warmth on his shoulders. “It’s not like we haven’t walked here before.” He was surprised but the feel of Black’s hand slipping into his other, the one Bianca wasn’t holding, and he looked up with startled eyes at the other boy.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Black offered. “This way we can really start our journey together. This moment will be ours to remember, forever,” he finished with a smile, his eyes silently asking Cheren to do this for Bianca’s sake, if not for his own.
When their eye contact became too intense for Cheren’s liking he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t seem to recall a time when you liked sharing,” he remarked sarcastically, trying to get rid of the seriousness that had fallen about them in the only way he knew how. He was surprised to notice that Black actually looked hurt by his comment. He instantly regretted saying it.
“Come on, Cherry,” Black said softly, “don’t be like that.” And then the world seemed to condense, and all Cheren was aware of was how warm and comforting Black’s hand felt in his own, how bright his brown eyes were and why have I never spent more time noticing them? And how dangerously close they were standing, so close that Cheren could almost feel Black’s warmth radiating through their clothes, and how dangerously sentimental his thoughts were getting, but then it was all over as Bianca’s grip tightened on his right hand, tugging him back to reality. He muttered an apology and fixed his gaze determinately ahead, desperately trying, and failing, to fight the blush coating his cheeks. And, as the three friends stepped, hand in hand, past the sign that declared “Route One”, Cheren was aware of Black’s questioning gaze on him the entire way to Accumula Town.
~~~~~~~
A few days later and the three of them were walking out of the Striation City Gym, reveling in the feel of their recent victory.
Black came to a stop in the middle of the road, letting Brav, Tula, and Musha out of their balls before spinning dramatically and jumping into the air, holding up his badge and triumphantly shouting “I JUST GOT TRIO BADGE AND IT’S ALL MINE!”
“So none of the credit goes to Bianca and I, then?” Cheren asked, giving his friend a glare that painfully asked him to get out of the street and stop making a scene. People were staring. Although, if Cheren was completely honest with himself, he was sort of hurt that as soon as they left the gym Black decided that it was okay to take all the credit for what had really been a combined effort amongst the three of them.
“Well, no,” Black sputtered, confused. “I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just…” he trailed off, looking unsure.
“Just what?” Cheren snapped, unable to control it. He hated stuttering with an unreasonable passion, and his angry and sarcastic tendencies were getting the better of him, again. He was vaguely aware of Bianca’s voice in the background saying “Cheren…” but he ignored it. Maybe he was being petulant and maybe it was childish, but some strange and irrational part of him wanted Black to look at that badge in twenty years when they would all be inevitably separated from each other and think of it as theirs, something they had shared, something they did together. He didn’t want Black to think of it as solely his; he didn’t want him to forget how they had gotten their first gym badge together. He had no idea where all of this was coming from, and part of him hated Black and the circumstances for making him feel so emotional, so out of control.
“Well I know we all worked together, but we got our own badges, right? So this one’s mine, Bianca has hers, and you have yours, right?” Black explained, desperately trying to keep Cheren from getting angry.
“I suppose that I thought since the badge was the fruit of all of our efforts we could treat the badges as though they belong to all of us, “Cheren defended, “We shared the battle and the victory, why not the badges?”
“That’s a great idea, Cheren!” Bianca interrupted, sensing the tension between the two boys. “Now it can be called the Trio Badge for a different reason, right?” Cheren stopped looking at Black to glance over at their other friend. Bianca had never been one to handle conflict well, and lately Cheren and Black were fighting more than usual. More than usual meaning that they never used to fight at all, and in the past few months they had been bickering and arguing with each other every once in a while. It wasn’t a lot in terms of normal friendships, but the bond between the three of them went far deeper than most friendships did, and the fighting threw off their normally inarguably stable group dynamic. It felt alien and strange to all three of them, and made Bianca deeply nervous. Cheren tried to soften his glare and take the impatience out of his tone. He hadn’t meant to start an argument. He cursed himself for letting things get out of control. g“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Black speculated. He stared down at the badge in his hand. “Here, we can say the red section is mine, Cheren can have the green, and Bianca, you’ll take the blue. It goes with the types we used!” Black beamed at them hopefully, and the other two couldn’t help but return the smile. Black’s grins were contagious.
“Sorry I was being idiotic,” Cheren mumbled.
“Sorry for being selfish,” Black returned. Bianca smiled brightly at both of them before looping her arms through theirs and dragging them to the Pokémon Center.
“A quick rest and then off to Nacrene City!” she exclaimed.
~~~~~~~
Four gym badges later and Cheren and Black ran into each other outside of Nimbasa City. It seemed like ages since they had last met up in Castelia, but now they had the chance to talk again, and for some reason Black was not acting nearly as excited or energetic as Cheren had expected him to be.
“Black, is something wrong?” Cheren asked worriedly. “We’ve been talking for nearly ten minutes and you’ve barely said a thing. You never mentioned how your battle with Elesa went, you didn’t ask me if I got the Bolt Badge, and you haven’t even suggested a battle with me. You always challenge me when we see each other. Are you feeling alright?”
“Yeah,” Black mumbled in reply, eyes downcast.
Cheren rounded on him, one hand on his hip and the using the other to force Black’s chin up to look at him. His brown eyes were a jumbled swirl of emotions and Cheren couldn’t read him.
“Talk to me,” he said, “what’s bothering you?”
“It’s just all of this Team Plasma stuff,” Black shrugged noncommittally. His tone was dismissive. “What they’re doing is wrong. I don’t like it. But, you don’t have to worry about it.”
“Why not? Team Plasma is affecting everyone, not just you. They stole Bianca’s pokémon and they’ve tried the same thing on me many times. I have just as much of a stake in this as you do. You know we’re here to help you if you want to fight them,” Cheren explained.
“It’s not your problem to deal with!” Black burst out, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He sobered almost instantly. He hadn’t meant to yell.
“Black, you don’t have to do this alone, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Cheren implored, feeling as though he was treading on foreign territory. Black so rarely got angry.
“N rode with me on the Ferris wheel today,” he said, absentmindedly staring off into the distance where the towering columns of Driftveil Drawbridge rose into the clouds.
“How does that pertain to Team Plasma?” Cheren inquired, “I thought he wasn’t with those weirdoes.”
“Yeah, so did I,” Black nearly growled, staring hatefully at their feet.
“So does that mean…?” Cheren ventured.
“HE’S THE FUCKING KING OF THE PLACE!” Black exploded, throwing his hands into the air, earning them a few curious stares from the passerby. Black didn’t notice and continued to rant. “He cornered me in the park today after my gym battle and forced me to ride the damn Ferris wheel with him! And you know how I get with heights! At first it wasn’t that bad, just N rambling about all of those physics equations like he always does, and the engineering behind the Ferris wheel, but it was like a foreign language to me. I bet you would have understood.
“Anyway,” he continued, “eventually that turned into his usual nonsense about chemical reactions and formulas dictating how the world works, but then, all of a sudden, out of the clear blue, he told me he’s the King of Team Plasma! And he tried to convince me that they’re not as bad as I think they are, and that he genuinely cares about pokémon, and I didn’t have a clue what to believe because you’ve seen how he treats his pokémon! He’s nothing like the rest of them! He seemed like such a nice guy, but then if you look at the Grunts we’ve dealt with, and those freaky Seven Sages… man, that Ghetsis guys creeps me out. What a weirdo, am I right?” he joked, trying to lighten things up a bit. Cheren laughed quietly, although his heart wasn’t in it. He was more concerned for Black.
“But I guess that’s not that bad. I mean, why else would he take interest in us? We’ve been fighting his organization since we started our journey. But then, he started going off about that old children’s story, you know, the one with the Hero of Truth and the Hero of Ideals? He thinks it’s real, and he has this crazy idea that I’m going to befriend one of the legendary dragon pokémon, and then we’re going to have a battle that will decide the fate of the universe!” Black took in a huge gulp of air when he finished and then slumped to the ground, leaning against the guard rail at the side of the road in exasperation. Cheren tentatively lowered himself down to kneel next to him, trying really hard not to get the knees of his pants dirty.
“So you see, Cheren? That’s what makes it my problem to deal with. N wants me to find the Light Stone and become the Hero of Truth. He thinks I represent the painful truth of how pokémon are imprisoned by trainers, and my truths have to fight his ideals to decide what’s best for the world. I have to fight him, not you,” Black said, fidgeting with his hands.
“Hey,” Cheren said, his hand hovering hesitantly over Black’s shoulder. Then it fell to rest there in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, albeit a little awkward. Black was thankful for the reassurance it provided and leaned slightly into the touch. “No one ever said that The Hero of Truth wasn’t allowed to have friends.” This made Black smile a little. “Don’t shove us away just because you think you have to do this on your own. Bianca and I are here for you.” They fell silent for a moment, Cheren allowing himself a moment to gaze longingly at the boy beside him who was oblivious to his feelings. Black continued to look forlornly at the ground as his hands jittered anxiously in his lap.
“Cherry?” he asked suddenly as he turned to look at him.
“Yeah?”
“You’re the best,” he said, causing a blush to rise to accompany the growingly embarrassed smile of Cheren’s face. He shifted over until they were sitting with their thighs pressed together, their arms touching and Black’s head resting lightly on Cheren’s shoulder. Cheren was reminded of all the sleepover they had when they were kids, the three of them curling together comfortably under a shared blanket on the floor of one of their bedrooms. It had always felt natural, being this close to either of his best friends, but now, with Black pressed warmly to his side, Cheren felt a new and strange feeling, though it was not entirely unwelcome. “Is this okay?” Black asked tentatively.
“Yeah,” Cheren whispered, feeling breathless. “It is, always has been.”
~~~~~~~
It felt like an eternity had passed when they finally reached the end of Victory Road, and it was rightfully so, seeing as they had embarked on their journeys almost nine months ago. It had almost been a year since that day in Professor Juniper’s lab, when they received their first pokémon and left home to start a new chapter of their lives.
Black and Cheren had entered the cave separately, but chance had brought them together in the darkness of the tunnel, just before the dot of light ahead that was the cave exit. They were both tired, muscles aching from scaling the rock, feet sore from the uneven and hard ground, and clothes dirty with a light coating of dust and debris. Their worn out pokémon rested in their balls, definitely in need of some time to recuperate. They had both just spent a good three days in the cave, navigating its seemingly endless labyrinth of winding tunnels and dead ends, though the lack of natural light really made it impossible to tell for sure.
Cheren had been walking alone towards the cave exit, only thinking about the promise of a Pokémon Center, rest, and daylight ahead, when a voice echoing off the tunnel walls stopped him.
“Cheren, wait!” The voice was paired with the sound of clumsy and hurried footsteps running to him. Cheren knew who it was before he even turned around, and was greeted with the sight of Black, clutching at his hat and his jacket open, undershirt coated in dust and sweat, brunette hair framing his face in a wild and ruffled halo as he half jogged, half stumbled toward him.
“Black!” Cheren gave as greeting, stopping to allow him to catch up. Black fell in step beside him. He looked just as ragged as Cheren was sure he himself did. “Well aren’t we a pair?” He remarked and grinned in spite of himself. Black chuckled.
“Yeah, I suppose we are,” he said. A hand reached up to scratch the back of his head.
“So, what took you so long? I thought for sure by the time I arrived at the League you would have been there already, spouting the usual nonsense about winning, telling the Champion he better watch out, traumatizing other trainers and the like,” Cheren teased.
“Hey!” Black protested, giving the raven haired boy a light thwack on the back of his head. “I don’t do that anymore. I’ve changed.” It was true. Their dealings with Team Plasma and all of the hardships faced on his journey had matured Black a lot. No longer was he the loud, impatient, and reckless boy he had been upon leaving Nuvema. Well, maybe he was still loud, and a little headstrong, but no longer dangerously so. Their journey had changed Cheren, too. Before leaving he had thought he had been stunningly mature for his age, but as he grew he realized he had been terribly wrong. His travels had made him less defensive, taught him that sarcasm wasn’t always the right answer to his problems, even if it was second nature to him. They showed him that sometimes it was okay to open up to your emotions and be honest with yourself, even if it was still hard for him. They had both changed, but deep down they were still the same as they were before. Cheren would never truly give up his snarky intelligence, and Black would always be insufferably (but that wasn’t really fair, or true) boisterous.
“Oh? I hadn’t noticed,” Cheren deadpanned. “Did you get a new had or something. I think I liked the old one better.” Black huffed with irritation.
“No, it’s the same hat I’ve always had. And that is not what I meant,” he said. “You just don’t want to admit that I’m just as mature as you are!” he pouted, and rather childishly too. It was an amusing sight.
“I wouldn’t venture as far as that,” Cheren muttered.
“But you admit it! I have changed!” Black cried triumphantly. He pumped a fist into the air. Then, realization seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks, forcibly dragging his fist from the air and taking his elated feeling with it. He had changed. Cheren had changed. Bianca had changed. Everything had changed, and just ahead laid the Pokémon League, and the battles that had the potential to change everything even more, for better or for worse. What I lose? His whole life, he’d been working to prepare for those five battles, and never once had he considered the possibility of losing until now. What if we both lose? Or worse, what if I wind and Cheren loses? They had always been competitive with each other, but he suddenly realized that he didn’t think he would be able to live with himself if Cheren didn’t win.
And, beyond all of that, there was still the threat of Team Plasma. What if he failed to bring them down? What if N had been wrong and Reshiram didn’t actually recognize him as the Hero of Truth? What if he lost? Team Plasma would take over Unova, steal everyone’s pokémon under the guise of liberation, but would they stop there? No, Black reasoned, they will take over other regions too, and it will be my fault.
Even if he did succeed, what would happen next? They couldn’t just go back to life as it was before, could they? Everything would change, and Black wasn’t sure if he was ready.
“Um, Black?” Cheren’s sarcastic and questioning voice put an end to his musings. “Are you still there? You’ve been standing there for a good three minutes. Now isn’t the time to fall prey to paralysis, Black, and I don’t think Cheri berries have the same effects on humans. Disappointingly so,” he smirked.
“Ha ha, very funny, Cheren,” Black scowled in reply. He reached up and tugged the brim of his hat tighter over his eyes. “I was just thinking,”
“Well that’s dangerous. It would probably be safer to do that when we’re not in a tunnel that has the potential to cave in on us. Can’t it wait?” he asked snarkily. Black sighed.
“Can you stop with the sarcasm for two seconds? I’m trying to be serious,” Black said, his tone a strange mixture of irritation and pleading.
“Serious?”
“Very serious,” he amended, trying to refrain from smiling, as he was having a rather difficult time schooling his features into a serious expression.
Their previous banter faded into quiet as they stood there, neither of them moving to say anything, neither of them walking to the exit of the cave. The air seemed to thicken and the dim, flickering light of the cheap utility lamp that lit the caverns seemed to impossibly darken, casting a strange and unsure glow, bouncing off the cave walls and making everything seem unnervingly unfamiliar.
“Is something the matter?”Cheren asked. He had always been hopelessly lost when it came to reading what others were feeling, what he himself was feeling.
“Everything is going to be so different soon,” Black mumbled, and if it were not for the way the rocky walls and the hollow space amplified and echoed sound Cheren would not have heard him. “After we battle the Elite Four there is no going back to before. Things won’t be the same anymore. And if Team Plasma succeeds then things really won’t be the same. Cherry, what if I fail?” he looked up at the other teen, brown eyes wide and helpless, begging for some sort of comfort or guidance.
“Black,” Cheren started but then trailed off, unsure of what to say next. He felt terrible for not being able to deliver the reassurance Black so obviously needed, yet, it was so out of character for him. Where did his confidence go? And why now? This is the least opportune moment to lose it.
“They’ll take my pokémon away. I’ll have failed them,” Black whispered dejectedly, all traces of hope leaving his eyes.
“That is not going to happen,” Cheren said firmly.
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re going to win,” he stated like it was the simplest, most mundane, obvious thing in the world. “You’re the strongest trainer I know, and your pokémon are brilliant, and I’m going to be by your side to help, regardless of what happens. Between the two of us, I think we can manage it,” he smiled cockily, although the expression felt foreign to his features. Annoyingly high confidence was Black’s thing, not his.
Things fell silent again. They were still standing as they had been. The exit to the tunnel was just a few yards away, but they hadn’t felt inclined to leave the cave yet. Black knew that being faced with the actual Pokémon League would only serve to made things seem more real, more drastic, and would do nothing to quell his bizarre and sudden onslaught of anxiety.
“Cherry,” Black seemed to say to himself more than Cheren, but it got his attention nonetheless. He found it amusing that the childhood nickname that had, at one point, caused him such irritation, was not something he willingly responded to. “You and I, are we going to change?” Black asked tentatively.
“Not if you don’t want us to,” he responded softly.
That was honestly something Black had never given thought to. Do I want us to change? Black thought back to all the time they had spent together, days wasted lazing around Black’s room, lounging with shoulders or arms just barely touching, nights spent awake until three in the morning playing videogames until one of them fell asleep on the other’s shoulder, afternoons used up on the grassy hills of Route One with Bianca, the three friends conversing and laughing together, never with a dull moment. Black recalled all of the times he and Cheren had accidentally gotten too close and the all too familiar flush had risen to the raven haired teen’s face. Black had never understood what that was about, but now he at least had an idea. It seemed like it should be a weird concept to him, but the idea of being in a relationship with Cheren, one deeper than what they already had, didn’t sound as bad as he had thought it would. In fact, it felt right. Natural, like it would be a change for the better.
Without realizing it, he had moved closer to the other boy during his miniature revelation. Cheren’s midnight blue eyes were tinged with confusion and anticipation, his lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. Black couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from them, and found himself feeling the inexplicable urge to find out what they tasted like.
“Maybe I want us to,” Black stated, just realizing it himself. Before he could stop himself he leaned forward, his hands reaching out to grab the hem of Cheren’s jacket and pull him closer.
“Black, what-” Cheren’s voice cracked nervously. The anxious look in his eyes grew in intensity and his face reddened further as Black continued to lean in, so close that their noses brushed together and the combined heat and moisture of their breath made Cheren’s glasses fog. Their chests and hips were pressed together, radiating warmth as Black clutched almost desperately at Cheren’s coat. Cheren realized that he had to tilt his head down a little in order to be able to fully see Black’s face, and in doing so he noticed that the other boy had to rise only slightly onto his toes in order to achieve such closeness. A strange sort of desire burned so fiercely in Black’s eyes that Cheren had the urge to step back and look away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, instead standing lamely in Black’s grasp, completely motionless.
Black’s face tilted imperceptibly forward and Cheren’s breath hitched just before their lips pressed together in a soft, tentative first kiss.
A feeling of warmth erupted through Black everywhere they touched, causing him to slide his hands around Cheren’s back and under his jacket, fisting in the material of his shirt in order to achieve more of that closeness. Cheren gasped into the kiss and his arms instinctually rose to wrap around Black’s shoulders, pulling him even closer. Their kiss deepened in intensity as they were both hit with a new feeling of fervor.
Things are definitely going to change, but they’re changing for the better, Black thought as he possessively claimed Cheren’s lips with his own. He knew that no matter what happened now, if Cheren was his he would have no problem facing it.
When they pulled apart, but only by a little, for air, they were both breathing heavily and Cheren’s blush had darkened to a ridiculously deep shade of red. Black thought he looked adorable like this, brow furrowed in confusion with red cheeks and kiss swollen lips. He looked into Cheren’s dark blue eyes through the fogged lenses of his glasses. His pupils were blown wide and dark, his gaze calculating, as if he were desperately trying to process what had just happened.
Instead of asking if he was alright, if this was okay, Black teasingly whispered one little word against Cheren’s lips, his eyes dancing with happiness as he did so.
“Mine.”
Much to Black’s surprise, Cheren’s grip on his neck only tightened.
“Yours,” Cheren murmured breathily in agreement before pressing their lips together again. For once he had done nothing to deny Black. There were no protests, no “No, you can’t have that,” statements, nothing. Black loved it. Black eagerly reignited their kiss, sucking lightly on Cheren’s bottom lip. Cheren hummed a sound of appreciation and pressed back, but then pulled away as an afterthought seemed to cross his mind. His eyes possessed a wicked glint, and Black braced himself for the sarcasm that was bound to follow. He supposed Cheren had been unusually unsnarky, and while the sarcasm was inevitable, he was lucky Cheren had saved it for later rather than sooner.
“Although,” Cheren smirked, and Black could feel it against his lips. Cheren paused to let the words linger for a moment, then, “that doesn’t make you any less of an insufferable idiot.”
End