A/N:
I've always been fascinated by the idea of what would happen if Green and Blue were to meet again after a long time; if the chemistry they clearly have still would be there. Once I finally translated that concept into words, I was completely hooked - more so than with any other thing I've written. I don't quite know why, really; just that I very, very much enjoyed doing this one. Anyway. This will be a two-shot, as mentioned in the summary; I've already started working on the next chapter, but, knowing me, I'm likely to abandon it tomorrow and finish it eight months from now. But let's not be too pessimistic, shall we? :D
Thanks goes out to Ibu for the beta and her useful advise!
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon Adventures.
Dusk
The first time Blue sees Green again after their break-up, five years have passed. The party she's at is black-tie, and though she likes the sophisticated air that goes with it, she feels mostly sorry she can't push aside the tables and just dance. As she sits sipping her champagne, legs neatly crossed, black stilettos tapping at the rhythm of the bland background music, her eye lands on him and her heart momentarily stops functioning.
He's sitting a few tables away from her, dressed in an impeccable black suit and matching tie; and although he talks politely to the elderly man next to him, she can tell he's bored out of his mind. She smirks - some things never change.
She waits for him to notice her, twirling her glass back and forth between her fingers as she does so. After two minutes, he looks her side. He stops talking in mid-sentence - and she can't help but smirk at the expression of utter shock on his face. Then, he averts his eyes again. It doesn't take long, though, before he chances another glance in her direction; and this time, she doesn't grin. She just looks and takes in his face, the countenance she used to know so well; the face she sometimes looks up in old photo albums just for nostalgia's sake. He holds her gaze, seemingly having become oblivious to the man next to him - or, for that matter, choosing to ignore him. With a pang of delightful fondness, she decides upon the latter.
She puts down her champagne, thinking that a crowded dining room isn't the best of places to catch up. There's a constant swirl of movement and noise; and though she hadn't noticed five minutes earlier, the lack of air seems to be closing her throat. Without further contemplation, Blue stands and walks off towards the open doors on the other side of the room. She doesn't look back as she disappears between the foray of penguin suits and evening dresses because she knows Green will follow her. He will want to know why, and how, and what, because he's always been one for questioning; he's always been one for getting answers.
When she walks through the open glass doors, onto the small balcony, the fresh air envelops her. For a few seconds she stands completely still, and just breathes; then, she takes a step forward and places her hands on the stone balustrade. The sky ahead of her is darkening, pink and violet streaks in the distance fading to a misty dusk. The air is warm, pleasant, like an embrace from a dear friend; a kiss from a long-lost lover.
"Blue."
She turns her head, and looks at Green. She doesn't speak. His eyes don't leave her face as he advances, hands in his pocket, the look on his face still unbelieving and wondering.
She smiles as he comes to a halt next to her, and then returns her gaze to the mystifying sky. "If anyone would have said to me you'd be here, Green, I would have told them they were delusional. I can't believe you're at this party. You're never at parties." She looks aside. "Or were."
"Some duties you can't escape," he answers tonelessly, "less pleasant side of being a Gym Leader."
"I daresay most people would consider attending parties as one of the plus-sides of your function," Blue contradicts jauntily, grin still in place. She then wonders why the heck they are making small-talk when there is so much else to catch up on. "How have you been, Green? It's been a long time."
"Hmm." His brow furrows as he looks ahead of him. He licks his lips. "I don't know if you can summarize five years in five minutes."
"Who says we've only got five minutes?"
Their gazes meet and, for a second, there is the spark of electricity that has always been there; the spark that had always formed the basis of their entire relationship. His lips part slightly and the outline of a smirk appears around the corners of his mouth.
"How long do you plan on staying, then?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"Whether the music will get an upgrade or not."
He snorts, and she can see it is amusement that colours his face. Then he says, seemingly-conversationally, "Who you're here with tonight?" and she knows he is really asking, 'Are you seeing someone?'
She purses her lips, thinking of what to say. In the end, she decides to walk the less-travelled road and choose for the truth. Refreshment never hurts. "I've come alone," she says, "have connections to get to these kind of parties, and it's fun most of the time, really - but tonight, the company does disappoint a bit.'
He flashes her a grin, and she says, "What about you, then?"
The question momentarily hangs in mid-air, tickling their faces - before dissolving into undisguised relief as he, drumming his fingers on the balustrade once, answers, "Same."
There is a small silence in which she knows they're both wondering if it is okay to feel what they feel at the statements they'd just heard.
She decides it is. If only for her pride.
"All alone, huh?" she says at last, emerging from her thoughts. She clasps a strand of hair between her fingers and begins to twirl it. "I did see you with a nice table companion, though. Sure there isn't more going on there?"
To his credit, he doesn't even bother reacting to her insinuation, far too used to her quips by now; or that's what she likes to think, at least.
She shakes her head, smiling nostalgically, and continues to twirl her hair. It's an unconscious habit, really - as far as something can be called unconscious when you're actually aware of doing it.
Green, meanwhile, has folded his arms on the balustrade and is looking off into the distance. She wonders what he's thinking; she wonders if she can still read his mind like she used to.
"Weird, isn't it, that we haven't seen each other for so long?"
He lowers his head and looks at his sleeve-covered arms. She frowns, because she wants to see his face, she wants to see what's going on in his mind.
She wants to see if he's thinking the same things she does.
"I'd have thought we'd run into each other at least some time, really," she continues. "On a wedding, or the like."
He finally looks up, and she wonders fleetingly if wedding was the wrong noun to pick. But when he speaks, he only says, "You shouldn't have moved to the Sevii Islands."
She arches an eyebrow, slightly annoyed; slightly insulted. "I can move wherever I want to go."
"Then don't complain we haven't seen each other for five years."
"I did not complain."
Not really, she adds in her mind. Not verbally.
He shakes his head minutely and looks away, and she frowns as the disgruntle inside of her grows. It wasn't only sparks of love that made up their relationship, she now remembers again; there were also ones of irritation, of anger, of -
"You could have visited me."
He looks at her and she looks at him, and there's a swirl of emotion flaring in his emerald eyes.
"I wanted to, sometimes. But you -"
"What about me?"
"We'd broken up, Blue, and I needed to get on with my life. I have a job here, a public function, I couldn't just -"
"What, not leave for a week? Not even lose a minute of your precious life for one phone call?"
Her insults aren't fair, she knows it with her entire body; it is calling the kettle blacker than black. But she needs to out her anger - she needs to let loose all those emotions bottled up in the time left behind.
Green's face twists, and she can tell he is trying not to rise to her accusation. He'd always been like that. Rather reason than pointless fights.
"Of course I could have called, Blue, and so could you. But we didn't. Alright? It was just -" He turns away and looks at the darkening sky. "It was just a matter of moving on," he finishes.
Another silence falls. Blue looks sideways at Green's dimly-lit profile. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. Past memories flash before her eyes. Green holding her in his arms - she singing a song for him, a bit drunk but perfectly happy - and he smiling despite himself, smiling the way she hadn't seen him doing since they had ended it all.
"I'm sorry," she says softly. "I'm -you're right. It was a way of moving on."
'Of forgetting the happy days we had,' she finishes in her head, 'of crossing a line through your name in the hopes I would find someone who could make the past look like a silly fantasy.'
"Do you -" She stops, not sure whether she wants to continue or not. "Have you had any relationships since?"
He looks sideways with a look that says he knows exactly what she's thinking. "Do you really want to know?"
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't, would I?" she answers, cocking an eyebrow.
He makes a funny movement with his head, as though he isn't too sure about that statement. Then he says, "A few. But none of real meaning. I mean, not -"
He stops in mid-sentence. The never-spoken 'like we had' dances before their eyes in the small space between them, sticking to the sultry summer air like thick honey.
Her fingers grip the balustrade, and she has to fight the blossoming emotions from showing. When she is sure her voice is completely level again, she says, "Neither have I. I've had a few relationships, and some of them were good - some not - but not really…"
Like we had.
Green seems to understand without in need of asking - like he always did. He looks at her with a clouded gaze, his mouth closed and his face neutral. She feels slightly perturbed that she can't read him anymore - it's unnerving not to know; not to detect automatically.
She juggles the possible emotions around in her mind (indifference; acceptance; want; loss) switching and turning them around; but never coming to a conclusion.
She frowns and looks away, because it is no fun like this. Instead, her eyes land on their hands, loosely placed on the balustrade. There's barely any distance between them - just a few centimetres.
Five.
Four.
Closer.
She takes in his light skin, soft and regal in the light spilling in from the open balcony doors. His nails are clean. His fingers are slender. Feminine, almost - and she wonders why she wants to touch them so badly; why she wants to put her hand on top of his so much she has to do everything to stop her fingers from moving. She's always been one for manly men, not for refinement, so why -
"Blue."
She looks up, quickly, and realises her mistake at once.
Too obvious, too long; eagerness is a rookie mistake, a sure way to give the power out of hands. Subtlety must always be preserved when one wants to succeed - and she, inexplicably, failed at it.
The right corner of Green's mouth is tugged upwards and now, it isn't so difficult to detect his thoughts. Enlightening when you don't need it.
"It seems like you have changed after all."
"Sorry?"
"Wait-and-see never really was your policy," he elaborates smoothly, "more like, 'I do whatever I please and the rest just has to follow'."
She twirls her hair, pushing her irritation back. "It still is, Green. And what's with the disapproving tone, by the way? You never complained, as far as I can recall."
"Except that I did."
"Except that you didn't."
Their eyes lock, and they both have to smile as if on cue - it's just so much like old times, this bantering, this subtle flirting, that the past almost becomes tangible again; almost becomes more than a rosy mirroring of happier times.
She looks down at his hand again, and this time, does give in to her desire. His smile was as good of an invitation as any.
The dimmed warmth and rough softness of his skin are just as then, and cause a twirl of recognition in her stomach; and the second her fingers are parallel with his, he intertwines them; slowly moves his thumb; strokes the back of her hand once.
It feels good. It feels better than good.
She raises her eyes to his face again, and the way he stands and breathes and doesn't speak - it's almost enough to make her turn back into a gooey sixteen-year-old school girl.
Except that she never was a school girl, and she doesn't do sloppy.
"Which hotel do you stay in?"
The unexpectedness of the question make her eyes flash to his face, but his expression reveals nothing but vague interest. She purses her lips, wondering, and changes her look to innocent-flirty.
"And why would you want to know that?"
The corner of his mouth tugs up into a grin. "Oh, I know what you're getting at."
"Of course you do. It's only the most-asked question in late-night encounters between people of the opposite sex; or the same, for that matter. I've never been one to discriminate."
"Might be," he says, his face turning neutral again but the amusement still apparent in his voice. "Still, you can't out factor the possibility that it could also be mere interest."
"Interest is never mere interest," she counters slyly, and then winks at him.
She sees something stirring in his face the moment she does. It's the wink, she realises. It's the trademark that was and still is hers, the gesture she used to overwhelm him with.
God, she's really getting emotional.
"If you're not going to answer the question," he says, "why don't I take a guess?"
She raises her eyebrow. "There are at least twenty hotels in this town, if not more. Do you really think you're able to know which one I'm staying in?"
He grins a little. "I said guess, not know. Still, when I take into account that you love luxury, yet don't have enough money to pay for the top-class," (her eyes narrow) "and probably want to be as close to the shopping street as possible… I'd say you're staying in the Fukayama hotel."
She doesn't answer. Just, screw him and his overly-developed deduction skills.
"I'm right, then, aren't I? I would have long heard if I weren't."
"Hmm. Could have been mere luck, though."
"Could also have been me knowing you very well."
"Which sounds just a little stalker-like after all this time," she answers, raising her eyebrows.
"More like proof of a good memory," he counters, and she lowers her eyebrows again because she knows he is right.
Plus, she doesn't mind it that much that he still knows her so well. Really.
The corners of his mouth lift again when she says no more - meaning she has conceded defeat - but then he turns serious and says, "It's good talking to you again, Blue. It's good seeing you."
She can see in his eyes that he means it, and she smiles. It's better than good, she wants to say - except that she doesn't, because she's not sentimental like that.
So she just says, "I agree," and leaves him guessing for the rest.
He should be able to, really - with his records.
Green smiles too, and when they continue to look at each other, their gazes locked as if though glued, the sky and the wind and the fading evening light all momentarily retreat to the shadows. It's just them, and she feels her breath being cut off; her brain clouding with a mystifying want.
He tightens the grip on her hand slightly, and she does the same. He strokes the skin with his thumb; she has trouble breathing. He steps a few inches forward. She repeats. He halts. She waits. He breathes. She looks. He searches.
She reaches forward.
Their lips meet.
A/N:
I firmly believe that there are some people that are made for each other; and that, no matter how much time passes, they're bound to fall for each other again and again. Green and Blue clearly are such a case. Next chapter will be from Green's point of view! :)