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Silver was two years old when he was ripped away from his first home.
He couldn’t remember it.
Green called it a blessing.
For a while he believed it, believed he was lucky not to remember the horrible thing that had taken him from his family, but that was a lie.
Green had hope, hope for a family, for a home, and he had nothing, no kindness, no loving faces, no past to speak of.
He wished he’d been older, so he could remember it.
Silver was six years old when he escaped the place that, somehow, had almost been a home to him.
The years between hurt him. Hurt him worse than anyone else would ever know. But he pushed it down. No one would understand, except Green, but she…was complicated.
But in a way, that place had been like a home.
He couldn’t remember living anywhere but those cold, frozen hallways, a life beyond the harsh punishments and hurt. And the familiarity was a sick, twisted comfort. A childhood spent locked behind bars meant you didn’t know life beyond the cage you were raised in.
He hated it.
And he hated himself for missing it.
Silver was eight years old when he realized he was never going home.
Green always encouraged him, tried to keep his impossible dreams of family and warmth and love intact as long as she could, but she couldn’t hide it forever. He eventually figured it out on his own. How could they even try to find his family?! Yes sir, do you happen to know if anyone around here had a toddler who had their name sown into nearly everything they had who vanished and is probably presumed dead?! What even made him think he would be wanted there?!
He left her that day.
She begged him to stay with her, that they’d find her family and once her parents told the police, they’d reach out and his family would come for him, but he knew better. He knew no one wanted him.
He ignored her sobs to stay with him, because by now, he was more family and home to her than the faces she was chasing, and she was his. He didn’t deserve her love.
Silver was ten years old when he spoke to Green again.
There was so much he wanted to say, but he was too weak, too much of a coward to say anything. He told her about Lugia, and Lance, and everything, anything but what happened two years ago.
He wished he had talked to her more. She was home, she was family, she was his sister, she was the only thing that mattered, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear it.
Silver was eleven years old when he found something beyond revenge and impossibility.
Lance was kind, even if Silver was just an errand boy for him. The ex-terrorist was surprisingly not like the Mask at all. He gave him things to do that weren’t that beneficial to himself, but to Silver’s goal. Taking down the Mask. And he worried for him, helped him up when he fell, gave him a protector and expected nothing in return.
Gold was annoying, but he wasn’t…terrible. He was funny, and even though he was a distraction and made feelings Silver didn’t like or understand, he…he liked him. He refused to just let Silver leave, refused to let him return to the wind, he refused to go back to something for Silver to get past.
They almost felt like something he didn’t understand.
And he liked it.
Silver was still eleven years old when he learned who had hurt him.
Pryce.
An old man, respected, cared about, loved. More than he’d ever been.
And he’d thrown that away just for a pair of Pokemon. Thrown away a calm, quiet life of peace for something that happened years ago.
Silver hated him.
And he hated everything that happened that day.
Hated when Green tried to protect him from the Mask like she always did no matter what, even if he could help.
Hated the way she had cried for him, when he wasn’t worth crying for. When he came out just fine. You didn’t cry unless someone was dead, and even then, it was weak. It was bad. You got hurt for it.
Hated that Will had chosen life as the Mask’s slave just for power. He didn’t recognize the boy he grew up with. He just saw someone who didn’t care about anyone but himself. He didn’t feel anything but regret when he beat him.
Hated that Gold was willing to sacrifice his life so that he and Crys could live. Didn’t he know that Silver was nothing without his revenge? If he wasn’t chasing the Mask, then he had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, nothing worth living for. He should be the one dying to defeat him, laying down his life for something he’d wanted for years. Not kind, brave, stupid, funny, amazing Gold.
Hated that Gold acted like almost dying was nothing. Like he hadn’t just made Silver feel like there was nothing left to live for, for a moment.
Hated that he was happy, at the end of the day.
Silver was twelve years old when he realized he loved Gold.
He tried to avoid going to the boy’s house ever since.
Love was a weakness.
Silver was still twelve years old when he stayed at Green’s place for a month.
She still called him her brother.
He still couldn’t say it back.
Silver was twelve years old when he called Lance Dad by accident.
Lance started crying.
Silver panicked.
When he calmed down, Lance told him he wasn’t upset, he was overjoyed that Silver thought of him as a father figure. Silver didn't dare believe him.
He hadn’t called him Dad since.
Silver was thirteen years old when Green found her family.
He didn’t go with her to see them again.
He couldn’t bear seeing her with her parents and knowing she didn’t need him anymore.
Silver was thirteen years old when he found his original family.
Or rather, when they found him.
He was rudely kidnapped while looking for them since he was too afraid of his own friends’ love to stay with them and it was a convenient excuse to stay away. When he said he would never accept Giovanni as his father, he was just looking for another way to avoid getting attached. It was weak. He was weak for feeling it.
And yet…
Giovanni had risked his life for him, just because he was his son. Blue told him that he had good in him. And he wanted to believe it.
He hated this.
He hated himself.
He hated the idea that someone had loved him, someone had missed him, someone had never stopped looking for their baby boy.
Because he wanted to believe it.
Silver was still thirteen years old when he was rescued from the stone.
He didn’t want to believe everything that was happening. Gold, calling him a friend? Fighting to save him? Refusing to let that knight guy talk bad about him?
It didn’t make sense.
But he shoved his worries aside and focused on the battle at hand.
Silver was thirteen years old when he apologized to Green.
For leaving her.
For going to the Ilex Forest even though she didn’t want him to.
For not going to meet her parents because he was jealous that they were her real family and he wasn’t.
She said she forgave him a long time ago.
He couldn’t hold back the tears.
Silver was fourteen when Lance asked if he had a home.
Most difficult question of his life.
Green was home, but her house and her parents weren’t. He didn’t like them and the way they screamed that they weren’t real family.
Gold was home, the home Silver had once dreamed of, but he knew better than to believe that. It was just smoke and mirrors.
Lance was home, but he probably didn’t feel the same way, to him, Silver was just a student. Otherwise, why would he have cried when Silver called him Dad?
He thought Giovanni might be home if he knew him better, but he hadn’t been seen since last year.
He told Lance he didn’t have one.
Lance cried again, and immediately decided that was apparently unacceptable. He told Silver he was moving in with him now, no arguing. Silver was confused, why was he upset, but he wasn’t about to disobey the dragon master.
Silver was fourteen years old when he called Lance Dad by accident in front of all his friends.
He didn’t mean to. He didn’t normally call Lance Dad. But for some reason, no one was mad. They were…happy for him? Happy he was attached to Lance like this?
That night, Lance asked him why he hadn’t called him that in two years.
Silver said it made him weak.
Lance said it made him strong, and that he could call him that anytime he wanted.
Silver finally believed it.
Silver was fifteen when he realized Gold loved him back.
He was at the other boy’s house, and it was Valentine’s Day, the worst day of the year for Silver. And when he asked the boy if he had any girls in mind, Gold said he didn’t.
Silver didn’t quite understand.
Until he did.
Gold loved him.
And he didn’t know what to do about it.
Silver was sixteen years old when his father came back.
Giovanni had spent a long time recovering from nearly burning to death, and then spent the rest of that time looking for him, again.
Silver didn’t know what he expected.
But it certainly wasn’t a hug.
Giovanni, evil leader of Team Rocket, cried as he hugged his son for the first time in fourteen long years.
Silver cried too, if he was being honest.
Silver was sixteen years old when Gold told him he loved him.
It was his birthday, which they now knew thanks to his dad(Lance and Giovanni begrudgingly shared the title) and Gold hadn’t brought a box like everyone else.
Silver almost thought he was wrong.
Until Gold said his gift to Silver was the truth.
He did love him.
Silver might never have had a happier day in his short life.
He was wanted.
He was loved.
He was home.