..: C o l d H a n d s :..Title – Cold Hands
World – Game.
Characters – Gold, Silver, mentions of Soul and Crystal.
Pairing(s) – Gold/Silver.
Genres – Drama, angst, friendship.
Warnings – N/A.
Notes – I'm in love with Gold/Silver. I need to write moar.
Pokémon is owned by Nintendo.
.x.
You remember the first time you crossed paths.
He was surprised.
A lone redhead was standing in the shade of Professor Elm's laboratory, staring intently at something you couldn't fathom. All you knew was that you had never seen such a ferocious, fiery scowl fixed firmly upon a pale, long face. You had never seen such flaming crimson hair, so accustomed to your own hair, charcoal black, Soul's honey brown, and Crystal's azure blue. You had thought Crystal's was the most extreme hair colour you had ever set eyes on, but when you saw this contrasting flashy scarlet, you soon changed your mind.
You should have known by his stiff posture that he was nervous.
Being such a sociable, friendly person, you naturally approached his new-comer. You had greeted him with a big, toothy grin, just blinking, clueless, when he jumped and swerved around.
You should have realised that it was fear swimming in those unfathomable eyes.
The shocked expression lasted for only a brief moment and then, in a flash, it was gone, replaced with a dark, stoney glare.
His hair makes him look even more angry, but his eyes are so different-
"What are you looking at?" he had snapped, and you just blinked curiously. You tilted your head, confused, before just smiling your sunshiney smile at him. He started before glaring again. He approached you swiftly, his moves fluid and yet stiff somehow. He was controversial, always controversial.
But you liked that about him, didn't you?
He shoved you hard, still glaring icy daggers that didn't suit his hot temper. His shoulders were trembling. From anger or worry, you couldn't tell. "Go away!" he shouted irritably, folding his arms defensively again, before striding back to the same place he had stood before, completely dismissing your existence.
You looked back at him before you left.
.x.
"Oh, brilliant," he hissed sarcastically, snatching his Trainer ID back with a firm glower plastered on his face. Was it permenant? You had never seen him smile.
Why did you want this angry kid to smile at you anyway?
"You saw my name," he grumbled, pale, long fingers clenching around the little piece of innocuous plastic as he let out an annoyed huff, his eyes flickering to his sides, to the floor, anywhere but your face.
Please, look at me.
His glare was ferocious, but at least he was looking at you now. "You only won because my Pokémon are weak," he growled, biting his lip so hard it was a wonder it didn't bleed. His eyes were wider than normal and he was too pale to be normal. You didn't understand this kid. But you couldn't let that statement pass. It was the trainer's fault if the Pokémon weren't strong, not them themselves. When you said this, his nostrils flared and he spat another insult before storming off again, not even offering a farewell.
You were used to it.
.x.
It happened again. Again. The confusing, perplexing, amazing redhead had lost to you again. Even though his Pokémon had an advantage above yours in terms of types, you had won. But you couldn't bring yourself to feel the immense feeling of triumph when you saw the shadows in the eyes that plagued your dreams, the boy's knees sinking into the ground as he collapsed in on himself, shuddering violently and shaking his head.
He was scared.
You approached him, concerned, and reluctantly put a hand on his trembling shoulder. You asked if he was okay, but he didn't seem to hear. "I'm not like him. I'm not like him," the boy was whispering, almost like a mantra. It unnerved you.
You knew he didn't want to be consoled.
But you offered him a smile and a hand anyway.
Suprisingly, amazingly, he took it.
Cold hands, warm heart, you thought as you heaved the thin boy up, still smiling even when he wrenched his hands out of your grasp and departed.
.x.
And you know, as you brush away his beautiful fiery hair, and look into his controversial, contrasting eyes, he's still as scared and distant as when you first met.
But you know that's just how he is. You don't mind.
So, you lose your inhibitions and just kiss him, unperturbed, grinning childishly when he pushes you off and shouts at you.
You don't mind. You never mind.
Because you know he's just scared to love you.
You tell yourself that, someday, he'll get over it.
You don't care that you're not sure.
You love him.
.x.