For Eevee, to whom I offer a happy ending.
And for a moment in time, they let themselves be tucked away in each others arms, and all of those what if questions that filled their minds were suddenly gone, replaced by certainty and an understanding that everything was going to be alright, even if it didn't feel like it. Even if they woke up the next morning and nothing was left but an imprint. A memory. A dream.
She doesn't want to talk about it: how she broke her heart.
I.
"You're late," she tells him, outside of her doorstep at 2 am, rain soaking his body to the bone. You're late. She wants to scream it. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" The sky has darkened completely, and if it weren't for the yellow porch light illuminating his body, he'd be invisible. He's not though, and the glare blooming across his features proves it.
"Sorry," Gary seethes, already pushing past her into the warmth of her gym. "I guess I got a little caught up in the storm." He is a wet thing, tracking mud onto her floor and leaving a growing puddle where he stands. The wood flooring is slick with water now. She'll have to bring him a towel. Misty is about to fetch him one too, when she feels his hand reach out to stop her.
Gary holds two video tapes in front of her face, and it's as if her past crashes over her in one giant wave.
"You found them," she breathes, shakily reaching out for one. She can hardly believe it. Her eyes flicker over the black lettering of her name: M. I. S. T. Y.
"Of course," he says, cradling his own, "who do you take me for?"
She racks her brain for an insult to throw his way - anything to which she can spit venom to - but draws a blank. She blames it on her excitement for the tape. "I could hug you right now," she says instead.
"Who says you can't?" His anger bleeds away a bit. She can see it in his eyes, the way they soften. "In fact, maybe you should. I dug through mud for these."
"Hey, it was your idea to bury them, not mine. I would have helped you too if you didn't live so far away."
"Pallet Town isn't that far."
"I don't own flying types."
Gary groans. "As much fun as our flirting is, Red, I'd kind of like to dry off. Do you have a towel?" He leans against the front door, staring her down.
Misty takes in the sight of him: brown hair matted to his forehead, his shivering frame hidden underneath his raincoat, those heavy-looking green eyes, always searching, always looking past the surface...she sighs. "Alright, alright, I'll get you one. You just stay here." After a moment's thought, she says, "And I was not flirting!" With that, she runs off to her bathroom. The sooner she gets him dry, the sooner they can watch the tapes.
It has been ten years since they recorded them. Ten years. It seems almost unreal. Part of her wishes they had never done it at all. Those tapes are the reason they became friends, and later something else, something closer, something...she shakes her head. It doesn't matter. All that's left from that are bruises, ones even the stupid tapes can't heal.
When she comes back he is already taking off his shoes and coat, clutching the doorway for support. His shirt has managed to escape the rain, but his pants are still soaked. She stifles a laugh as she hears him curse.
"I can't believe you came here even though it's raining a tsunami out there," she tells him, throwing the towel his way. He catches it with ease. The rain hasn't let up one bit; she can hear it hitting the roof like shrapnel.
"Well, it's an important day," he says. She watches as he runs the towel through his hair. "You would have killed me if I missed it."
"Most likely," she affirms, walking closer to where he stands. She is careful in her movements. She doesn't know how to act toward him anymore, not with how long it's been. Part of her thinks that he was late because he was resolved not to come, but changed his mind last minute. If that's the case, she doesn't blame him; she'd do the same.
She tosses him a pair of pants that she had snagged on her way back. "Here, these should fit. They're left over from one of my sisters' water plays. Daisy always ends up playing the guys."
"Thanks," he says. Gary begins undoing his belt but stops midway, catching her looking.
"You know," she comments, turning away, "I think you're just as excited as I am." She hears him shuffling into the pants.
He snorts. "What? To listen to these stupid tapes?"
"They're not stupid."
"Oh come on, we recorded them when we were what? Fifteen?"
"Fourteen," she says matter of factly.
"Oh," the sarcasm in his voice is almost tangible, "my mistake."
Misty glares. "You know, we agreed to open these tapes in ten years, no matter what. There's no going back, so you're going to have to deal with it, alright? And are you done changing or not?" She turns around, luckily finding him fully clothed. "Quit stalling already."
"Don't rush me," he says. Gary takes the soaked clothing and drapes them over her heaters. When everything is settled, she brings him to the gym's living quarters. They move in silence, past the kitchen and modest dining room, into the maw of her living room. There's nothing fancy about it, just a small couch for three and a coffee table, both of which are turned toward an old, but still capable, television set. The VCR is already set up to receive the tapes.
Gary scans the room with familiarity, before plopping his body on the couch. He lets his weight sink into the cushions. "Let's do this," he says.
"You're already set?" she asks in disbelief. Misty stands facing him, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her weight to the side. The strands of her orange hair tickle the tops of her shoulders as she moves.
"Yup."
"You aren't nervous?"
He meets her gaze. "It's just a video," he says, "nothing to be worried about. I mean, Arceus, we made them when we were kids, Mist."
Misty's reply catches in her throat.
She doesn't say that it's been a whole year since he's called her by that name. She doesn't tell him how much it hurts, or how much she wishes he would stop pretending like everything is normal, because its not. It's been so long. Can he not see that?
"Do you even remember what these were made for?" she finally asks, fists already forming at her sides (because if he doesn't remember the fact that they have sworn off any and all contact except for this night, then she wonders what he does remember).
"Of course I do."
"Oh yeah? Then prove it."
A moment passes.
"Gramps made us do it," he eventually answers, eyes on her own. "We were both at the lab that summer: me with my research and you with your water pokemon. He needed tests from your team, and I needed a way to kill my boredom. Writing reports can be so tedious." He pauses to see if she has any objections regarding the story. She doesn't, so he keeps going. "I guess I began to tease you. I wanted to get on your nerves. I...I wanted to see you react."
"Well I did," she says.
"Yeah, and I still have the bruises because of it."
"You aren't still upset about that, are you?"
A small smile grows on his face. "The lab techs don't tend to go easy on someone who gets their ass handed to them by a girl."
She rolls her eyes. "Well, don't worry, I got in trouble for it."
"We both did."
"Hence the tapes."
They share a look.
"Gramps told us to sit down," Gary says, remembering (and part of her is happy he does). "He put a camera in front of us and said, 'Get your frustrations out. Vent to the camera, say anything you want. Act as if you are talking to yourself.'" Misty watches the way nostalgia glosses over Gary's eyes has he speaks. "'In ten years, you'll look back on this moment and laugh.'"
Misty swallows. Her hands fiddle with the hem of her shirt. She's tired of waiting. "Well then, are you ready to laugh?"
"Your tape or mine?'
She thought a lot about it, before he came.
She doesn't quite remember the exact moment when the scales tipped, and they passed the line between friends and something more, when a teasing punch turned into a lingering touch, and the sound of his name leaving her lips was a little more than breathless. She can't even remember the first time they kissed, because everything fell into place so naturally, so wonderfully, so perfectly, that maybe it never mattered. Maybe they always had these feelings brimming at the surface, threatening to spill out.
All she knows is that one day, one day he was asking for her help with some research, and then she needed him to fix her pool heaters, and then there was coffee and dinners and phone calls, and they were slipping away from League parties and leaving toothbrushes at each other's houses, and did it ever occur to one of them that they were crossing this threshold? Did they ever even make it official?
No...no they didn't.
She guesses it doesn't matter. After all, it wasn't so perfect in the end. There was no happily ever after, and she can't even tell you when it first began.
She can tell you every single excruciating detail of it ending though; she can pinpoint the exact moment when her heart shattered into a million pieces.
II.
Misty presses play on the VCR player and takes a seat on the couch. It was decided that Gary's tape would play first.
The camera is slightly fuzzy, but Misty can make out just enough detail to recognize that Gary is indeed in the shot. Even blurry, the spikes of his hair stand at full attention. After a moment, the picture comes into focus, and Gary's sulking fourteen-year-old self is fully revealed. And boy does he look pissed.
"Alright Gary," Misty recognizes the professor's voice (he must have focused the camera) "the floor is all yours." Gary's younger self grunted in response. By the look on his face, he had no desire to be there. Still, he did not protest, even staring the camera down as his grandfather left. Misty feels as if the glare is directed at her.
Fourteen-year-old Gary crossed his arms over his chest. With all of the bruises on his legs and the band-aids on his elbows, it seems he had just returned from his scuffle with Misty. She watches as he tilted his chin toward the camera, and its almost like a declaration of war the way he said, "So, whatever I say here will be heard by our future selves huh?" She can almost see the gears in his mind working, thinking of all the ways he could spit on her image. Younger Gary scoffed. "How stupid. I guarantee you that in ten years I won't even bother associating with that she-devil anymore."
The Gary besides her snorts.
"Well," Misty says under her breath, seething, "I guess you got your wish after all."
It has been ten years since the tape, and they technically aren't on speaking terms any more, save for this night. Looks like Gary's younger self was a good judge of things.
He looks as if he wanted to rip his hair out. "I've just never met someone who gets so angry. Hatred must be thick in her blood, because Arceus, the littlest things set her off! How can she be so jaded all of the time?" He shook his head. "It's not just that. She's violent too, and argues about anything and everything. She must be so afraid of being wrong or...no, it's more like she's afraid of judgement. Who cares? Whatever it is, I can't take it! I don't think I can handle being around her anymore."
A moment passed, before younger Gary sighed. His anger began to recede, if only a little. "Right. So why does that make me so upset?" His eyes flickered downward. "It's not as if I mean to make her so angry. Don't get me wrong, it's entertaining to watch her temper flare, and the way she can get so flustered," he chuckled, "but I don't mean to drive her to the point of insanity. She's the one who drives me crazy, actually, and not for the reasons you might think." He gave the camera a hard look. "I think the real reason I get so mad is because she reminds me so much of Ash."
Misty frowns.
The two of them, Ash and Gary, had been rivals. Misty understood that much, and even if they had made up by the time they were fourteen, it wouldn't change the fact that Gary still held feelings of resentment for the raven haired boy. Maybe those feelings never went away, never will. Still, to compare her to Ash? Was he even thinking straight?
Misty looks at him - really looks at him - sees brown hair and un-freckled skin, his green eyes staring at the camera with such conviction and such honesty that she wants to scream. They were so bright and so beautiful, even if the anger that lied behind them had yet to go down. She sees his dedication for his work reflected in the lab coat he wore, and remembers just how hard it was for him to swallow his pride and accept the fact that it wasn't battling he was good at. It was numbers and research and fieldwork. It was pokemon, even if he wasn't the one commanding them.
At fourteen, Gary was just coming to terms with this; at fourteen, Gary would watch as Ash fought for what he gave up. For that, his anger for Ash would not subside.
So to be reminded of Ash every time he saw her….it was no wonder they fought.
"I bet you're wondering why they're so similar," the younger Gary continued. "Well, I have a few reasons. The first one is this: they both are stubborn as hell." Misty feels a protest fresh on her lips (she has to bite or tongue to keep from belting out). "No really, they'd rather die than admit they're wrong. I just thank Arceus I'm not around the two of them when they fight with each other. I'm sure that can go on for hours." He rolled his eyes.
Well, he wasn't wrong.
"Let me let you in on a little secret too." younger Gary continued. He leaned toward the camera as if speaking to a friend. "Even though it annoys the hell out of me, I kind of like seeing her fight like that." A pensive look crossed his face. "It's just, it shows that she cares, like she's not some robot agreeing with everything you say; she has substance. But then again, what do I know? She can still be a total bi-" he stopped himself, eyeing the door. "You don't think Gramps will watch this, do you?" He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. "What a drag...now I have to worry about that too. Whatever, I'm getting off topic."
He cleared his throat. "The second reason Misty reminds me so much of Ash is because she's a damn good pokemon trainer. Which sucks because, I'm admitting Ash is good at battling but also agreeing that some scrawny girl is too."
Misty turns to the Gary beside her, glaring. He laughs, "Hey, take the compliment."
"You called me scrawny!"
"You are - ow!" He clutches his arm where she punched him. "Mew, did you have to hit me so hard? He started it!" Misty scoffs and turns back to the screen, glaring.
"Do you know how hard it is to be reminded of that fact though?" Younger Gary said. His shoulders sagged downward. He was suddenly dejected. Bruised. Misty frowns at the sudden mood change. "How come you can train your absolute hardest, shed tears and blood and sweat, yet there will always be someone better than you? Are dreams that far out of our reach?"
"Look," he said, "I'm not here to talk about my troubles. I'm here to talk about what happened. So here it is: I made Misty mad. We fought. She busted me up and now I'm here, trying to get it all out of my system. And you know what? I'm not angry anymore. I'm just sorry. Sorry that I've actually grown to care for that red-haired she devil." He paused. "Which is insane, because a second ago I wanted to kill her...funny what affection can do to someone." Misty's heart skips a beat at his words.
"We have normal conversations sometimes," he admitted, "and because of them I've realized that there's a lot more to Misty than her bad attitude. I guess that's why Ash and Brock decided to stick with her for as long as they did." Misty isn't angered at his words - if anything they make her want to laugh. She doesn't of course, because if she did she might start to cry. She misses him. She misses Gary so much.
He may be sitting right next to her, but it feels as if he's oceans away.
"Misty is pretty, she has a brain and knows how to use it, and she cares for her pokemon. She's so determined in everything she does. She may pride herself on being a realist, but the truth is I've never met a bigger dreamer, I mean she's such a romantic." He laughed. "And yeah, she has vices, one if them being she gets angry easier than anyone I've ever met, but then again I'm not perfect either. The truth is I understand Misty. I understand that even if we fight now, it's just a matter of time before we forgive each other. When that happens we can go back to insulting each other for fun."
He smiled, getting up to pause the camera. "You know, Gramps was right. I do feel better getting these things off my chest."
The picture cuts out.
She doesn't want to remember it, but she does, over and over again every night and every day and every time she looks up to tell him something, and all she meets is air.
Because he's gone.
What had she done exactly? Throw dishes and pans and shoes and potions and anything she could get her hands on - that picture frame, her blow dryer, a stupid pen. Her anger had seeped out of her skin and oozed to the floor and grew and rose and suffocated them in the room, and all she saw was redredred. They fought; they destroyed themselves.
There were no more kisses and no more good nights and no more hands touching holding pressing. There was no more love except there was but it couldn't be shown, not when they were fighting, not when she had said - no demanded - that they never see or speak or look at one another ever again. There was no more room for their relationship, so she snuffed it out like a candle quick and fast and quick and fast and it all happened too fast too fast too fast for her to stop it.
So it ended...their relationship….it died.
And all she can do now is wonder why hadn't she done anything to save it.
III.
The room is quiet. Gary and Misty remain sitting, their lips pressed together and a million thoughts running through their minds, each one different yet terribly connected. Misty wants...to ask him things. To perhaps thank him. Only, every time she thinks she might open her mouth, she sinks further into herself.
The buzzing of the TV is all that keeps them grounded to the situation.
Right...it's Misty's turn next.
"Let's move on," he says, brooking no room for argument. He seems embarrassed.
What could he be thinking? she wonders. She doesn't ask him; instead she puts in the next tape.
The screen flickers, once, twice, and suddenly her younger self is revealed, all red hair and angry lines slashed across her lineaments. She was fuming. In Gary's tape, he had been quick to calm himself...Misty doesn't have that much faith in herself.
Younger Misty spoke, "Let me make myself clear: this tape is not for any body's sake but my own, alright? Okay, maybe for the professor too, but I'm doing this because I want to. No other reason." She leaned back against the office chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Misty takes in the sight of herself, at the way she used to dress (she misses those suspenders) and her short choppy hair. She was lanky and freckled and had sunburns on the tops of her shoulders, and everything had seemed so simple. So care free.
"Let me start off by saying Gary Oak is one of the most aggravating, annoying, unbelievably frustrating people I have ever met." As if that wasn't enough, she added, "He's also a total ass."
Present Gary scoffs. "Oh really?"
"Really," she emphasized, as if reading his mind. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "It's bad enough I have to deal with Ash, but now another boy from Pallet? I swear, they must put something in the water." She sighed. "It's just...frustrating, you know? I came here to help the professor, not to be insulted by his grandson. Gary, you just don't know when to quit." As if suddenly restless, she got up and began to pace back and forth around the room.
"Let me just remind you guys what happened," she said. "Gary began to tease me. Sure, it was little things at first. You know, about how he had never seen me with my hair down before - "are you trying to impress me?'"
"I don't sound anything like that!" Gary protests.
"Or about how he wasn't sure why the professor would want to look at my pokemon, of all teams, and if I kept glaring the way I was then I'd never get a boyfriend - and it was no wonder how I had never gotten Ash - and I just snapped. I slugged him; right in the gut. The next thing I knew we were on the ground fighting, and the lab techs had to pull us apart." She let out a huff. "It was humiliating."
Fourteen year old Misty stopped pacing. Her green eyes found the camera. "It wasn't right for him to say those things. It wasn't fair. I don't care if I look angry, and don't care if people don't like the way my hair looks. Frankly, I should have punched Gary for the comment he made about my team, but Mew, to bring up Ash?" She shifted uncomfortably. "There's nothing between us, t-there never was!"
It was true. Ash had just been...her friend. Maybe a lifetime ago, she had entertained the idea of the two of them being together, but that was in the past, and even then, at fourteen Misty had not been thinking of him in that manner. Besides she...she had Gary. Well, she didn't have him, but they were closer than they had been at ten years old and he could be charming when he wanted to be. Her fourteen year old self had already fallen for him.
"It's just so stupid. He is always looking for a fight! But I don't want that. I want to get along with him, because, while I hate to admit it, I respect Gary. I...I think he is one of the most brilliant people I have ever met. He's dedicated, hard-working, and doesn't give up. He's strong. For all of this faults, all of his narcissistic and arrogant ways, Gary has a multitude of redeeming qualities that make up for that. I'm being honest when I say that Gary Oak is a good person. He's just aggravating sometimes."
The younger Misty returned shakily to her seat. "You know, even if I'm mad at Gary I...I know that it will all blow over soon. That's what always happens. Gary says some stupid comment, we argue, and I end up slugging him...okay so that last part isn't always true. I'm not that cruel." She sighed. "The professor doesn't get us, I mean, we're used to fighting. In actuality this whole tape thing is superfluous, but hey, if puts the professor at ease, then so be it."
Green eyes flitted to the camera lense, determined and bright. She said, "We're going to be just fine. We always are."
Then, she smiled, slowly, and said, "So for now I'd like to ask, that is if our future selves are watching, are you both feeling okay?" Her face softened ever so gently. "Because if not, you know, if there really is a problem you're having, please, don't be afraid to talk about it. When push comes to shove, we are always there for each other. We understand one another." Misty knows the thoughts running through her younger self's mind: we love each other.
And the tape goes black.
Here's what happened, plain and simple.
Gary and Misty dated.
They fell in love.
It destroyed them.
Or maybe it didn't, but they broke up all the same. They fell apart.
She remembers this: her hand, poised above her head, within its grasp a heavy-looking book. She had released it in his direction, craving for its impact against his skin. She wanted him bruised. Battered. Bleeding. She wanted to feed her anger in this way, because if she didn't she knew that something within her would absolutely burst.
And then it wasn't just a book, it was a glass, and a picture frame, and anything within her reach. Her anger had become tangible - a hot angry projectile that she wanted slashed upon his skin.
He had screamed at her, cursed at her, told her that she was crazy-nuts-fucking insane. Gary had made sure that his words cut just as deep as any object she threw. And he let them cut and cut and cut.
They wanted to maim one another.
She remembers this too: her hand, poised above her head, within its grasp something heavy and unimportant. She had prepared to throw it, but stopped, had let her arm fall down to her side followed by her body. She had given up. There was no more anger. Just emptiness.
Finally, she remembers the sound of him slamming the door behind him. After that, not much else.
She doesn't even remember why it started.
IV.
They are silent for a moment. Misty doesn't know what she expected. A sort of revelation maybe? An answer to her problems? A sign that she had matured more than her younger hot-headed self? Maybe. But none of that occured. Instead she received a memory that her mind had let slip from its arsenal. Now it's back, clean and new, sitting before her like a freshly opened wound.
Are they supposed to talk about it?
Misty's eyes timidly search for Gary's within the dimly lit room. Their bodies are a cushion apart, so it's easy to do. Green meets green. Well? he seems to say.
She nods a little. Yeah, her own gaze whispers, okay then.
Her next actions are simple enough. They occur on instinct even: that slow scoot toward him, the way her hand reaches out to hold his own. The room gets real quiet again, as if it too is listening. Misty swallows hard.
"I don't know what my younger self was thinking," she says, "speaking of you so highly. I mean, calling you brilliant? Was I nuts?"
Gary's mouth quirks up into a half smile. A small chuckle escapes his lips. "I know, ridiculous."
"It is!" she affirms. She blows some of her hair out of her face. "We were such kids back then...fighting over something so trivial. Of course, at the time it seemed so much more…"
"Yeah."
A moment passes.
Gary gives her hand a squeeze. "Sometimes I wish all of our fights ended in a tape. Maybe then we wouldn't hate each other so much. We'd have gotten all our anger out through the film."
"Maybe we should have just used ourselves as the cameras...you know, talked it out."
"I guess you're right." His eyes hold her own. "I don't regret anything though, do you?"
"If you're talking about our relationship, then no, I don't regret anything either."
"Even the fighting?"
She smiles. "Even the fighting."
Gary leans back for a moment, his eyes closing and his breathing slowing. He looks so at peace, so handsome (he always seems to be). Under normal circumstances, she might try to run her hands through his hair, feel the soft brown locks thread through her fingers, but that was before. "I guess I do regret the way everything ended though," Gary admits. "Especially because we stopped talking. I never wanted to stop talking to you."
"Then talk to me now," Misty urges. "Tell me everything. We don't have to let our fight break us apart."
"Do you really believe that?"
"Even if I didn't...what's stopping us from trying?"
Gary sits up and holds her gaze, stares deeply into her eyes, unwavering and determined. "I'll want more."
"What do you mean?"
His hand squeezes hers tighter. "If we let each other back into our lives again I...I know that my feelings for you…" he trails off. "They never went away you know." Misty feels her heart pound harder with his words. "Everyday I never not once stopped loving you."
"And what makes you think I haven't felt the same?" she fires back. An angry blush rips across her cheeks. "What makes you think that you're the only one who wants what we had back!?"
"I hurt you!"
"Well I hurt you too!" Misty screams.
Silence.
After a while, Gary shifts. "What happens the next time we fight?" he asks her. His gaze is smoldering, fierce. "What then?"
She feels her throat tighten, but will not waver. Not now. Not with everything at stake. "Then we fight," she answers, slow and carefully. "We get our anger out, and then we talk. Like now. Like our younger selves did. We communicate." She places her hands on his shoulders - holds him steady. "Isn't that what we should have done from the start?"
"Would you have reached this decision if we hadn't watched the tapes?" He reaches up to take hold of her hand; it's now a lifeline.
She shakes her head slowly. "No."
"Well, thank Mew for our younger selves then." He sighs. Their eyes meet, and suddenly Gary is leaning toward her.
And he kisses her.
I'm sorry, his lips seem to say, I never meant to hurt you. They push and dance across her own.
I'm sorry too, her's reply. I'm so very sorry. Misty pulls him closer. Most likely hidden under their movements and sighs of content, bursts if I love you are shared as well.
When they pull apart, Misty smiles. She wonders what their younger selves would think.
V.
"Dear future Gary and Misty, how are you holding up? I'm assuming well. After all, we've been through so much within the past ten years. We've fought so hard for what 0we have, I know we aren't going to take it for granted anymore. But just in case ten years pass again and you're in another rough spot, please, give these tapes a listen, alright?"
.
.
.
Fin.
(A/N): Well, thanks for reading! Eevee, I am aware you requested something a little more humerous, but as I was writing this idea sort of came into my mind and would not leave. I know its a little late as well, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. I sure had fun writing a bit of egoshipping ^-^.
Thank you everyone once again, and please feel free to leave a review if you like :). Have a lovely day!