pieces
"How did we get here?" His voice is calm, cool. Terribly collected; he's trying too hard, pretending that he's fine. Red's reminded of all the things he used to say – i'm better than you – and shrugs shamelessly. It's a nod to his nonchalance, because Red's been trapped inside caves before, and if his ghost of eleven-years managed to leave unscathed, so will his body of fifteen. Green is by his side, all sharp and cold, kicking at stones and yelling at puddles, attracting attention from curious zubat. "Oh, don't give me that thing where you just shrug."
Red shrugs again and Green kicks him in the shin. It hurts a little bit. He looks down to stare at his dirty pants, and thinks that he'll have a bruise tomorrow, probably.
"Can you get out?" Green asks, angry that he's panicking while Red isn't. The coal-haired boy nods uncertainly. "Of course you can. I should've known better." He fumbles through his pockets, searching for a pokéball, and then lets out his arcanine. "Do some fire. I'm freezing."
It's destiny the thing that ties them together. Red's sure of this. Otherwise they would be away from each other. Everything's happened like the usual: they battle, Red wins, Green sneers and gets out. Only this time there was never a chance to get out.
"So, when do you plan on coming home?" Green asks. Red straightens, scratches his head under his hat, and thinks. His eyes flicker to the small fire before the two of them, then he glances at Green, who's petting his arcanine distractedly, and shrugs. The brunet counts to three before punching him.
They roll around, getting snow and rocks inside their shoes and shirts. By the time Red starts bleeding from the mouth, and Green's eye starts to darken, they're both sopping wet. Green suppresses the urge to cuss as he gets up. "I'm freezing. You know what – " Red glances at him, " – fuck this, I'm going home."
"Home," Red says, and Green's eyes widen, "Such an unfamiliar word."
The thoughts of going home are quickly erased; his fist tightens and Green is back on full attack: "I won't stop until you come home with me." He takes off his shirt and shoes, "You win, I go home. I win, I go home, but I'll take you with me. Safe word is uncle. You know the drill."
Red's bloody upper lip presses against his lower as he does his best to bear with Green's lack of patience and understanding, but then his fingers wrap around his shirt; and the floor is so very cold against the thin cloth of his socks. Red ends up – of course – winning, like always, and, like always, wonders why Green bothers. The boy in question looks up at the ceiling of the cave, panting, chest climbing heights, and he just stands still, leering at him. He's the only one still standing. Green curses, and this time Red doesn't extend a hand to help him up. The brunet spits out saliva and blood before helping himself off the ground.
"You win, for now." He puts his shirt on with a grimace, because his ribs hurt and his skin is starting to get purple. "I'll be back."
"You always are," Red replies softly, and Green flies away without looking back.