A/n I don't own Pokemon.
She had been buried underneath those apple trees. Green knew where they were. He used to visit them often as a child. Now, he sits beneath them, for the first time since- since that day. She is there too.
He thinks of the others. They never visit, even though he knew-he knew-it was what she would've wanted. He was drawn there, to those apple trees. He'd never forget.
She was so carefree that day. Why hadn't he paid more attention? What had been captivating him so much that he would miss a car come plummeting towards her? Why didn't he see the car? Why did he have to only see her frightened face, baby tears newly formed trying to rise, then nothing? Her world was gone, then. Why did his have to keep going?
He'd just realized that day that maybe there was something more to her than he thought. Maybe she wasn't just this little girl who happened to be pretty tough when need be. Who was he kidding, she wasn't a little girl anymore. Suddenly, she was this beautiful-Green swallows the word-woman, looking back at him with those eyes. Those eyes . . . had they been what stopped him? Had he been too busy admiring those glassy orbs that he'd been frozen; unable even to save her?
It stung quite a bit. He'd seen her body; it was a hit-and-run. He was mad at the world, but wished for the worst possible thing to happen to that driver. Who would hit someone then run off, as if they'd merely hit a pothole? This wasn't a pothole, this was a life! Green feels his hands ball up into fists. He wants to take out his anger, but he doesn't. Not on those apple trees.
She was too young to die. Everyone says that, but this is a case where it is all too real. Green wishes, then, that it had been him instead. She was so innocent. She shouldn't have been killed. Her life shouldn't have been taken.
Those eyes . . . they flash in his mind: wide open, unseeing, blind, dead. They hold that last bit of panic in them, that last bit of pain. It kills him to see her like that. It kills him. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to chase after that evil culprit, but he couldn't leave her like that. Not alone. He took her limp body, cradled it in his arms, looked into those cold, cold eyes, and felt himself tear up. He didn't ever cry. But he did that day.
He had just woken up to the fact that she was so, so much more than 'just a friend' to him. Why hadn't he known sooner? Why hadn't he pushed her out of the way? Why couldn't it have been him?
He feels the tears come now, but he doesn't stop them, doesn't wipe them away. He knows they're trying to go back to her, and to those apple trees. Perhaps, in a weird sort of way, it felt a bit better, letting those tears fall. Not hiding them. No, he shouldn't hide them. It would be like betraying her. Green won't have that.
Those eyes come to him again: alive for a split-second, then gone. Why? Why do those eyes still haunt him? He tried! He tried, but his feet had been suddenly turned into lead, his body frozen in time, his eyes made to watch that one moment and his mind to replay it evermore.
He still loved her.
He leans against that apple tree, now. The one she's buried under. He tries to imagine that she's still alive, that she really is there with him, leaning against him, her head on his shoulder.
It doesn't work.
He remembers again; he'd held her hand, earlier that day. He shouldn't have ever let go. It had been embarrassment-embarrassment, of all things!- that had made him let go. Blue or Red might be in the area; what would they think if they saw the two hands clasped? Now, Green didn't care. It didn't matter to him, not anymore. He'd have held her hand the entire day if it would bring her back; if it would save her.
He would do anything if it would've saved her.
He had felt, that one day, like there was more to the world than trying to be the best. Perhaps he could just be. That would be all right. He would've liked that. Why couldn't it be that way?
He turns to the apple tree. There is an inscription. 'To Green: I'm too nervous to tell you this in person, so I guess I'll just leave it here for you to read. I really like you. More than a friend. I feel like you are the kind of person who I could be with forever and just be happy with, even if the two of us aren't even doing anything. I know you like these apple trees as much as I do, so I hope you get this message soon. Once you do, will you answer me, please? Thanks! ~ Yellow'
It takes his breath away. He doesn't know what to do at first. She was lucky that this was a big tree, or else she wouldn't have had enough room to carve all that. Green decides that there's enough room for an answer. He pulls his pocket knife from his pocket and carves.
'To Yellow: This is too late. You'll never read this. I want to say some things, though. First, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Second, I think you're right. I think we could've been happy forever. And most importantly, Yellow, I love you. ~ Green'
It feels so wrong . . . when had she written this? Then, he realizes something. That awful, good-for-nothing truth dawns on him.
"Where are we going, Yellow?" he lets his hand slip from hers. She looks back at him, smiling in a knowing sort of way.
"I thought maybe, we could go over to those apple trees."
His eyebrow arches in interest. "Why?"
She grins towards the sky. "It's a nice sort of place, and-" She turns her attention to him. "-you never know what you might find!"
Then, she crossed the street. Or at least, she tried to. He can't help it anymore. His hands come up to his face as he discovers his mistake.
Why didn't she just tell me-Why didn't I save her-Why couldn't I move-Why did I let go of her-Why did she have to walk out just then-Why was that person even on the road-Why didn't they see her-Why didn't they slow down-Why didn't she live-Why did I live-Why are those eyes still etched in my head?
He has a thousand questions echoing in his mind.
The only one who can answer them is buried.
Buried underneath those apple trees.