a/n: thanks again to /seacoast/ (yew) for his wonderful poetry!

note: features mild boy/boy (Red/Blue). turn away now if that offends you in any way.

|:. Tiburon .:|

.:.

my brother asked me what love felt like
and I told him,
I don't know.
not because i don't,
but because
l/o/v/e
is just a silly little word
that we use to describe something
that we cannot comprehend.
there are some emotions
that you can't quite put into words
and
l/o/v/e
is one of them.

.:.

-by /seacoast/ (yew)

|i. crazy kids|

Hey, do you remember when? Do you remember when we were young? Do you?

Do you remember playing in Pallet's foot-stamped grasses, in those meandering dirt paths that were rustic and hurt our soft, kiddy feet? Do you remember the sailboats in plastic pails filled with water, the endless games of tag

(hey dummy, you're it!)

where you tried to run away from me and you always could because you were so fast, leaving me coughing and with my hands on my knees in the clouds of brown-sugar dust you kicked up with your sneaker-clad feet? And I, I was never fast enough. You always caught me, and I couldn't run, and we would trip and tumble over in a sprawling heap of

l-o-n-g limbs and

sun-burned faces?

(caught ya!)

And the dirt would be in our mouths and it would choke us, like swallowing a wad of sandpaper, and our mothers would be at the

red-paint doors with glasses of lemonade and reprimanding frowns (but also smiles because we were having so much fun).

Hey, do you remember when we gave each other c/u/t/s with a sharp piece of glass

(hold still, it'll only hurt for a second-)

and swore

blood : oaths, our fingers touching and smearing red all over our skin,

to be rivals when we got our first Pokemon, but friends forever?

Hey, do you remember?

Or has childhood faded to a dying-star speck in your mind?

|ii. journey|

I still see it.

Professor Oak, that gleaming lab table, and three plastic red-and-white orbs, nestled on a piece of cloth. Waiting. Beckoning

hypnotizing us with tantalizing visions of glory

for us to reach out and take, and unleash a kind of power we'd never known before.

We'd already staked out our claims long ago, but now. as we stared at the spheres on the glowing white table, we forgot everything and grasped at anything we could find.

(do you remember?)

You favored fire, so you chose Charmander. I, being your rival, naturally chose the starter in direct opposition to yours. I chose Squirtle.

It's almost eerie, isn't it? Yours was red, mine was blue. Like our names.

Words have power, Red, or have your forgotten?

(squirtle, dodge, use water gun)

It's one of the most basic tenements of battle, you recall. Each command we give, each order, they are reacted upon swiftly and without hesitation by those we call our friends and comrades, those we release and call to fight. Do you remember our first battle?

Do you?

Perhaps you don't, but I do.

Because

I

lost.

Surprising, certainly. Yes, I'll give you that.

(seared flesh, scalding steam, a boy's anguished cries)

It was a first, but not a last.

After that day, I started placing more value on numbers.

Red: 1

Blue: 0

|iii. training|

We walked on dirt paths, on cobblestones, through derelict buildings swarming with the dead (passed/past) and bloodsucking bats, through forests so thick that everything was a shade of green (mossy and dark and smelling of death) and we could hardly see two inches in front of us, through mountainous mazes so labyrinthine in nature and so utterly blank that sometimes, it felt like we were going to die here, amidst bloodstained stones and stalagmites and stalactites protruding from the ground or from the ceiling.

Do you remember, friend?

Do you remember swimming through cold lakes, the water on our skin and as searing as fire, and knowing that beneath us would be an entire ecosystem evolved through years of predatory instinct, driven to kill us for the simple need of consumption?

Do you remember

.,.d

.,.,.r

.,.,.,.o

.,.,.,.,.w

.,.,.,.,.,.n

.,.,.,.,.,.,.i

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.n

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.g

in those stark, stormy seas and glaring ahead at the thin patches of land with determined, maybe even {hateful} eyes?

And when you finally emerged, pale and shivering and covered in scratches, you walked on ahead through the rain and hail and hellfire like

A GOD

and everyone would see you and their eyes would widen at the sight of us, at our population, at the children who did not fear the dark?

We were a society within a society, we trainers. Men and women (boys and girls) who dared to tread where others would not and scratch the

L - I - N - E - S

drawn in bone-white chalk on invisble concrete, letting the rain wash the chalk-dust away into the gutter of nothings?

Hey, do you remember the hours we spent in the wild, in that niche between bestial and civilized, as we sent out our monsters, playing them like chess pieces on a board, and moving them as we saw fit?

We were playing a game, really. The fighting, the sweat, the tears, they were just random add-ons that came with the life. Only, the two of us were playing more than a game, weren't we?

I swung at you, you dodged. We played the game, and we played each other. Manipulation was our only field of expertise, and we were excellent at it.

I trained because I had something to prove. You... what were your motivations?

I seem to have forgotten.

|iv. boss fights on a real-life video game|

You were always behind. I was always ahead, reaching the next city before you did, beating the town's Gym Leader before you did, claiming their badge before you did, getting to the League before you did.

(in other words, I was the hare and you were the tortoise. slow and steady, huh?
this time, though, the hare was smarter and kept running.)

And I grew, you know. With each victory, I got stronger twofold, and so did my team. We thought we were invincible, all seven of us. We thought we could take down the world, sail into the sunset on a dragon and with crowns on our heads.

(that was my fantasy.
you, you never believed in fairy tales.
you preferred the cold logic of nightmares, instead.
and I guess you were right in that sense.)

because in the real world, happy endings are few and far in between

I think about the video games and chessboards, sometimes.

You still remember, don't you? Those smooth black-and-white consoles, attached to the chunky game systems with dark, sinuous cords

(like sin-stained blood vessels or synapses flowing with negative energy)

relaying information from our dextrous, ever-moving fingers to the images on the screen. We played for hours, you and I, until we had to stop. We played racing games, street brawls, aliens, everything imaginable. A panorama of colorful, neon-lit scenery and people on those old TVs, filling our minds with neon-lit dreams and aspirations of a darker variety.

The boss fights we both had trouble with. Do you remember? Feverishly pressing button combinations on the controllers

(a, b, leftrightup, and a telekinetic wave strikes the Cyborg King)

as we fought those video-game bosses on moving platforms or amidst gouts of lava or in a vacuum of space where we had to dodge meteors

(x, y, updownleftleft, a, and a Shadow Cannon blasts from your outstretched hands)

and fight minions to get to the king, to the linchpin, to victory. Hey, you still remember, right?

And I almost always won before you did. Almost. But when you won, you never seemed to care. Just handed back the controller to me and curled up on the couch to watch me play with your red eyes and charcoal hair and cap covering your face. You were inscrutable.

My grandpa said you'd make a good poker player one day.

You already were, though. A good poker player, that is.

You just didn't play cards

but

with

life

and

death

|v. in quiet rooms and behind closed doors|

I was mad with you. 'Furious' would be better, actually. I kept piling up a steady string of losses while your win streak only grew each time we met and I challenged you to a battle.

"Fuck you, Red," I would say each time I lost, and you would give me your little scarlet stare as if you didn't know what I was talking about.

You did know, though. You're not mute, or retarded, or stupid in any way; now, I realize that you were playing me like pieces on our chessboard.

{and I couldn't resist}

I liked you, Red. In that way. It took me some time to figure it out, but I did. Maybe I still do.

The girls, they were for show. My own way of bluffing through the poker game between us, trying to avoid the way you stared at me with those demon eyes of yours. You were always a shark, lurking silently in the dark ocean, and I just happened to be wandering by.

~|you had very lovely eyes, by the way; fuck, that sounds stupid|~

They were red and dark and all-seeing and all-hiding and so damn mysterious

You were the boy with the pale skin and the black hair and the silent, steady gaze, and it made me break out in cold sweats, you fucker, but you already knew that, didn't you?

Do you know what made me angrier than the losing?

Looking at you, at your pretty fucking face, and wanting... what I wanted.

(ashamed)

There was an argument, I seem to recall. A bit of fighting between us, instigated mostly on my part, and at the Pokemon Center in one of the towns or cities; the latter part I don't remember.

(don't worry, it's inconsequential, like swallowing a sleepingpillandgoingtosleep)

hey, lose your train of thought? did ya did ya did ya?

And I, I was shouting and screaming words that I still hear and don't hear, and you took it all with your usual stoic attitude.

fucking piece of shit

And then, you told me to shut the fuck up.

And my eyes dropped out of my sockets.

And I started laughing.

"You fucker," I said. "Try and make me."

And then you kissed me.

you

fucking

kissed

me.

(ohshitohshitohgodohshitohgodfuckfuckFUCK)

And, of all things, I kissed you back.

Do you remember? You fucker, don't lie to me, don't lie to me about this. You remember, I know you do. Because your eyes widened when I accepted and my tongue was in your mouth and your cheeks were, for the first time ever, as red as your irises.

We kissed, Red, and then you left, your eyes still comically wide and my lips burning.

Tell me you remember, Red.

I still do.

|vi. we ascended gilded stairs and bypassed the king's guardians to topple the tyrant from his throne|

I beat Lance first. I got there before you did. That counts for something, doesn't it?

I can see you, standing at the foot of the Champion's room, the ceiling cathedral-like and massive and everything smelled like lightning and fire.

"Hey," I said.

You didn't respond, and I got pissed.

(i thought that after that)

"You got anything to say for yourself?" I asked.

You still remained silent. You were a nasty fucker back then.

"Huh? Do you fucking remember, Red? Do you remember Viridian?"

"Blue," you began, but I cut you off.

"You gonna take this away from me? Huh? You fucking son of a bitch, you've always taken everything from me!" I screamed at you. "Your grandpa's fucking favorite, you fucking damned shit-for-brains, didya ever think about how it hurts? You insensitive bastard!"

"I love you," you said, eyes solemn and cap turned backwards.

(i wouldn't want to kill you, but i did. i wanted so badly)

I laughed at you and your lying words.

"Lorelei was a dumb bitch. Agatha was an old fart. Bruno was a massive jerkoff. And Lance, he was the biggest cocksucker of them all."

"Don't say that."

"I'll say what I want."

(to make you see)

You stared at me. "It's alright, Blue."

"Alright? Fucking asshole, you don't know what alright means."

"I love you, Blue. Did you hear that?"

"I hate you."

You smiled, and it was the only time you ever did smile. It was sad and lifeless and, if I may say so, quite dead.

"I'll always be there. If you change your mind."

(that I didn't mean the words I said, that I really did love you)

"Fuck you. Fuck you all." I got up. "I'm not losing this time."

Your Pikachu leaped off of your shoulders and onto the field, growling and covered in a fine shroud of electricity. I called out Alakazam.

We battled for the very last time. The room was a wreck when it was over, and you know what? I lost.

Red: Winner

Blue: Loser

You were always better at video games than I was.

|vii. pedestal|

You left after the championship. Left and went to Mt. Silver, with its gunmetal clouds, bone-white snowflakes, and below freezing temperatures. You, your team, and a backpack full of faded-picture memories.

Your long-term memory has always been shitty, anyhow, so I don't expect much.

I was dethroned within just hours of my championship title, and you left it all without saying a word. That pissed me off more than anything, and I labelled you the biggest douchebag of all for a year before I learned to give it up.

I've yet to come close to understanding you. You never gave anyone a chance.

{except for me and I tossed it down the drain like an empty pill bottle}

Where are you, Red? Grampa wishes you would call or write, at least. Your mom's sad. Really sad.

Sharks are cold-blooded, so I guess that makes you one. You and me both, buddy.

Remember the blood : oath?

and coke bottle pieces with thin red lines running down our skin

Dammit, you fucker, I loved you.

There. I said it.

Will you come down?

Do you even remember who I am?

Red?

a/n: rather ambiguous. i decided not to focus on team rocket in favor of red and blue's personal lives. hope you enjoy.