A/N I just can't seem to write a happy story these days... *sigh* I'm such a sucker for angsty stories.
This idea was inspired by all the mind-trippy, heart-achy originalshipping fics on this site.
Warnings: Mind-play, boy x boy, mild language, angst
Pokemon and all related products do not belong to me. I am not making a profit from this at all.
"I'm just...sorry...just...come back..."
"Get. Out."
Green smirks, trying to keep his usual wall of arrogance standing. Trying not to be stung by the venom in Red's words.
"We're already out."
Hate floats to the top of crimson pools, and Green suddenly wishes he had kept his damn mouth shut.
"Just go away."
He takes a step back, causing the 'crunch' of snow to resonate. It doesn't last long, though. Nothing does, not here.
"When will you forgive me?" he shouts over the chilling winds that thrash by. A particularly violent one almost makes him loose his footing, but Red doesn't even bat an eyelash.
"Get out of my life."
He growls, though he knows Red can hear him. "I don't get what I did wrong."
Red takes a step toward him. Under normal circumstances, that would be his own way of inviting Green inside, saying 'hello' in his silent way. But this circumstance is in no way normal.
"You made me care. I can't believe I even..."
The other words are scattered in the howling wind.
Green takes another step back to match Red's movement forward. In the storm of white, all he sees is crimson and splotches of brown and yellow. Eevee and Pikachu are completely oblivious to the heated battle of words that's going on around them, only knowing the feel of each other's fur. A feeling of envy rises in his chest. He wishes he was that dim.
Crunch. Crunch. Each time Red advances is another time Green retreats. He's getting close to the edge of the peak, too close for his comfort. The cocky smile is still plastered on his face. He wishes he could slap himself, but that would be just as bad as surrendering.
A brief second is wasted on wondering why the rivalry was still there, even after all the years they've spent together. Maybe it's just him.
It's like this is every time he visits Red. He doesn't know why the level-headed champion is suddenly so..distant. Not explaining anything, just bursting with random spurts of fury. It...scares Green, almost. But it's Red he's talking about. He's... as much as Green hates to admit it, a friend. Even more, perhaps, based on the silent kisses exchanged in the darkness.
Red's lips are moving, forming slow words that never quite seem to reach his ears. He can't tell if they're screams or apologizes. Screams of apologizes, maybe.
He would laugh, but that seems completely out of place.
The heel of his feet crumble away the small pebbles that has hidden away under the snow, and loosens them so they can drop to their doom. He's reached the edge. "Are you blaming yourself or me?"
The only answer he gets is another crunch of tightly packed snow. Crimson materializes in front of him, blazing, like it's about to burn him alive. They could, Green bets, if Red stared at him hard enough.
"I hate you."
Green's wall starts to break down, and he places a soft hand on Red's shoulder. A look of (desperation? Panic?) flashes in the red.
There's the muffled sound of skin hitting cloth.
...
Green wonders why he's suddenly falling.
000
"Wake up."
He doesn't comply. His eyelids are made out of stone, as far as the concept of 'waking up' is concerned. A soft thump is heard when another falls onto the bed he's in, making his covers tremble slightly. Green groans and turns the other way, burying his face back into the sheets.
"Come on, sleepyhead."
A fluffy pillow pounds him in the face, and Green has no choice but to wake up.
His eyes open to slits, and he sees Red lying on top of him with a teasing smile on his face. Oh, it's just Red...`
He shoots out of the covers, not bothering to notice the pained 'oomph!' that Red makes when he tosses him out of the way. "R-Red?"
The champion recovers quickly, and the bright smile is back in an instant. "Yep! I'm here, like I promised."
Green is confused. Did he make a promise? When did he make a promise? "Yeah, yeah, sure. But the real question is, when did you come back from Mount Silver? And why the hell are you in my bed?"
Red blinks, obviously confused. He lazily rolls out of the bed and lands on the floor, his eyes trained on Green. "I don't see why that's a problem."
And when warm fingers capture his and leads him out the door, Green doesn't see why, either.
000
A warm breakfast at the cafe near the gym is the best way to start the day, Green decides. All sorts of flavors drift by his nose, waking him up instantly. Red doesn't seem to notice the scents, but keeps himself busy by observing Green and smiling at his perkiness. "So, what do you want?"
At the sound of Red's voice, Green remembers who's with him at the moment, and the haughty tone wanders back into his voice. "I don't get why you're buying me breakfast, you know," he mumbles in between sips of hazelnut coffee. "Did gramps set you up to this?"
"No," Red replies. "I just wanted to."
After a silent staring contest between the two of them, Green sighs and looks away. "Okay, fine. But don't think I owe you anything."
"I don't," Red replies honestly.
Green orders an acceptable stack of chocolate chip pancakes with butter and strawberry syrup, while Red decides on the snorlax special, which includes all kinds of berries mixed into one soup. Surprisingly, none of the flavors clash together, as Green expected it to. Rather, it blends in and complements the other flavors quite nicely. Red offers him half of the whole thing, but Green declines, not being a fan of the spicy edge made by the cheri berries.
"Red, you're...different today," Green says after many bites of chocolate pancake.
Red gulps a mouthful of soup down before answering. "How so?"
"You seem...happier."
The other boy's lips curl up into a gentle smile. "I'm always happy when I'm with you, Green."
Green's face gains a red hue, and he tries to compensate by taking a big swish of his coffee and choking on it. "Geez, Red. You're so cheesy," he murmurs through mouthfuls of pancake. Red shrugs before scooping out the remainder of his soup and putting it into his mouth.
"So, what are you going to do today?"
Green licks up the last of the pancakes as well, before saying, "Well, I guess I better go open up the gym."
"But you said the gym was going to be closed today."
"Did I?" When Red nods, he tries to shift through his memories, trying to remember when he did. "Huh, I don't remember."
"I don't mind." Red's hand grip his under the table, making Green jump a little when the sudden warmth sparks in their entwined hands, making it feel like a current of electricity is rushing through his arm. Something is urging him to let go, but the feeling is too comforting for Green to do so.
He feels the security a child feels with its mother as he's led out by Red once again. "Where are you going?" he questions, with a huff of annoyance that's not really there. As expected, Red doesn't fall for his act at all, and offers him a wide smile as bright as a thousand suns.
"I don't know, where do you want to go?"
He blurts out the first place he can think of. "The pond."
A series of light tugs carry both of them to the water's edge, where laughter is spent watching the pidgey fight for the bread crumbs they toss. When him and Red skip stones (his record is six, and Red's is four, but does that even matter?) one of the rocks hit a particularly fierce pidgey on the head, and many hours are wasted running around and around to avoid its ferocious pecks. The next hours are spent making crude parodies of the incident and laughing until they fall over.
Red tumbles over Green, and like dominos, he falls over as well, splashing both of them with droplets of cool liquid as his hand slaps the water's edge. After a short session of water fighting, they collapse in the dirt and stay there with Red resting half of his whole body on top of Green's chest. Green finds that it isn't awkward at all.
Somewhere in between, Green notices that he really enjoys Red's laughs, since it's not something the crimson-eyed boy does often. This Red is new. He doesn't mind the old Red, but he figures the new one is better.
"This is fun."
Lovely shades of crimson glint in the sun as Red adjusts his position on the grass to look at him. "Isn't it?"
He feels a twinge of emotion when Red snuggles his head into the crook of his arm and stays there. The warmth puffs of breath get slower and slower, turning into light snores of satisfaction. The sunlight tickles his skin and lulls him into closing his eyes and falling into a blissful dream...
000
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Green shifts in the bed. The covers are too light to protect his bare skin from the cold, but though he wants to chatter his teeth or shiver, he can't. It hurts too damn much.
There's an annoying beeping coming from somewhere on his right. Every single 'beep' it produces chills him to the bone- as if the nip in the air wasn't enough already.
'Shut up.'
It doesn't.
There seems to be some sort of fog over his memories- he can't remember when he got here and how.
'This is my apartment, and that is my alarm. I have to get up now. Get up.'
When he twitches a single finger, his body screams in protest and sends waves of pain up and over. He's too stubborn to give up, though. He tries again, fighting against the currents that try to push him back down.
"Sir, sir, he's up!"
The words almost slip by. They're slightly echo-y, as if they're somewhere far away. Relaxing the tension that was created in his small battle, he swirls his thumb around and around against the mattress.
It feels weird. He's touching it, but it doesn't feel real. He describes this feeling as 'trying to touch an object with wrap surrounding it'. He figures it's just the after-effects of laziness.
There's a slam of a door, and that's when he realizes it's not his apartment after all. It's his gym, and he's fallen asleep doing the paperwork again. That's one of the trainers, wondering why he isn't awake yet.
"How are you feeling?"
Either this person is speaking through a microphone or this person is doing their worst at shouting their words from all the way across the gym.
His eyes open like a meowth's. Everything's blurry, but he blames it on the drowsiness. Silently, he makes a promise to himself (that he knows he'll break) that he'll never work on paperwork that late ever again.
"Get the champion in here, pronto."
Champion? What are they talking about? Lance? Do they mean Lance? This is a gym, not the Elite Four. Really, if he could, he would storm over to this trainer and scold them for crazy talk.
Wait, he closed the gym today, didn't he?
He jerks his head, not remembering why he did. No no, wait, he closed the gym today, right? But he can't remember. It's not panic that it comes to, but rather a sense of uncertainty. Was this his gym? He can't remember, not now.
"Green?"
He swears he's heard that voice somewhere before. If only it was a bit clearer, instead of sounding muffled.
Somehow, he gets his eyes halfway open and stares at a blurry gray ceiling that's above him. It looks slightly fuzzy, like the screen to an old black and white TV. With his hands, he gropes around for something to support him when he hauls himself up. Another shock of feeling shoots up his figure when he touches some kind of metal that's next to him. But again, it doesn't feel as if it's really there. He imagines it's the same kind of feeling you would get if you were able to reach into a mirror and touch the things it reflected.
After taking a deep breath he pushes his body up so half his back is now resting against the metalwork frame behind him. Another hand supports him when a spasm of pure hurt radiates from his head. Cold fingers press his temple with the aim of strange reassurance.
The first thing he sees when he looks forward is blurry red eyes. They would look sad, Green thinks, based on the slight downward angle of the person's eyebrows. But the eyes themselves look dead, with no expression at all. Like a child's crayon drawing, with only one color and none to show any difference to anything.
There are other people there as well, all with the same haziness in their eyes. They look like walking corpses. Their skin even has a strange gray hue to it.
The most vibrant thing he's seen so far is the ceiling, he muses. He doesn't understand what this place is- it's only a swirl of gray and white and black in his eyes. Sure, there are flashes of color here and there, but like the boy's eyes, they have no life. It's one solid color- no shadows or anything of the sort.
The red-eyed boy speaks.
"Green? Are you okay?"
The fact that everyone seems to be whispering today annoys him.
"Stop whispering."
The other people seemed to be amazed that his voice is regular (Green thinks his voice is the most 'regular' out of all of them. At least he's not whispering) and starts jotting furiously with the pens in their hands. The red-eyed boy, however, is staring with those creepy eyes of his. The angle in his eyebrows have become more exaggerated.
He says something to the other man, who seem to nod his head a bit. Green can't see any signs that would give him hints of what the nod is supposed to mean. A hand goes to rest on his forehead, and he stares up at the ceiling again. It's the only thing that's not dull, because it was dull in the first place.
He catches a small glimpse of the red-eyed boy glancing at him, before turning back to the other man. A small fragment of memory strikes him when he sees the long, white coat kind of thing he's wearing. It was connected to some kind of profession, but he can't remember. He feels that it's important to his situation. The bland, chalky colors float around him, and soon, they become nothing more than a sea of color he can't begin to comprehend. Feeling a bit nauseous, he closes his eyes to escape the brightness.
When he opens his eyes again, they're all gone. Only the previous 'beep, beep' sound is still there, clear against the silence. Green still feels as if he's watching some kind of reality show on TV- part of a world but not actually there. Just a simple bystander. He traces his fingers along the folds of the blanket surrounding him. It still feels like layered plastic. Colors still look like crayon-colors.
That's a funny word. 'Crayon-colors'.
A thin line in the middle of space catches his eye. It's on the side of the bed. When he presses his fingers against it, it feels numb. It's a light-white sort of gray, as if it's transparent. He dips a finger inside, and recoils when a sudden liquid meets his skin.
Water.
Suddenly, he realizes how much his throat hurts. A gulp of water washes the heat away in his throat, but he can't help but notice the water tastes weird, too. Like nothing, almost. He can certainly feel it sloshing around in his mouth, but it doesn't taste like anything. Did water ever have a taste?
Water just tasted like...water, really. He supposes it's normal.
His fingers relax and lets the glass slip through them. It shatters with a beauty he can't explain. Curiously, he picks up one of the shards and plays with it in his hands.
A slight buzz of pain comes and fades, and a red liquid starts to flow out from a cut he can't see. He drops it to the floor, but not in pain. More fright, than anything else.
I couldn't feel the prick.
Green can't remember if that's a bad thing or not. A wave of sleep flows over his brain, and he falls victim to it.
Drops of scarlet pool on the floor.
000
"Green, wake up."
His eyelids slowly pry open to be met with a dazzling spark of red. He jumps up, pushing the body on top of him away and onto the floor.
"That's what you get, Red," he mutters into the sheets, burying his head into the pillow. A sense of deja vu pricks at him from the back of his mind, but he shoves it off.
A push knocks him off the bed and rolling on the floor. "That's what you get," Red says with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Green rolls his eyes.
"No need to take it personally," he replies, pushing himself off the floor. "Ugh, what time is it?"
"Nine in the morning."
He's on his feet in no time, eyes wide and accusing, trying to drill a hole into Red's soul. The champion looks genuinely confused. "What?"
"The gym! Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"
"But you told me the gym wasn't going to be open today, remember?"
Before Green can say something else, Red grabs his wrist and drags him out to the kitchen, saying something about the 'best breakfast ever'.
The day goes as smoothly as he could've dreamed of, complete with watching the sunset and a small peck on the lips to substitute for a goodbye. It's all quite cheesy, but cheesy is good. In real life, anyways.
000
Green opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Was he dreaming, before? Or is this a dream?
I wouldn't doubt it. It certainly feels like a dream. He thinks, rubbing his fingers against the sheets, as he had done the dream before. Yes, he is certain now. This is most definitely a dream. He pulls himself up into a sitting position, taking his pillow along with him so he can use it as a back rest.
The boy from before is there, sitting on a chair beside they bed. A cap that wasn't there the dream before is drawn low, covering most of his face. He twitches when Green moves.
The need to say something feels important somehow, even though it's just a dream. A dream, with dream people and dream feelings. But still...
"Hey."
The boy's head snaps up, revealing a small portion of dull, red eyes from the cap's shadow. Green shifts uncomfortably under the boy's gaze. "...nice hat."
When the boy's head lowers again, Green feels like he's done something wrong. "...sorry?"
Silently, the other shake his head slowly.
"No what?" Green asks with a slight hint of anger. Without a word, the boy stands up and leaves the room.
His heart aches, and he can't remember why.
000
Green doesn't even bother to look at the boy when he comes back in the next day. He really doesn't know if it's the next 'day', but the sun's set and risen again, so he supposes it is. The flow of time is very confusing in a dream.
His heart starts aching again as soon as he meets eyes with the stranger, and he's the first to break away to try and stop the pain. He didn't know he could feel pain in a dream. It's the first spark of pain he's felt in this dream, and it hurts. Arecus, it hurtshurtshurtshurts...
"I'm right, right?"
The person tips his head a bit, which Green takes as a question.
"Yeah, I'm right. You're not real."
He laughs to himself. Once it starts he can't stop, and soon, he finds himself laughing until he's crying. His side hurts, and he's out of breath, but he can't stop, for whatever reason.
"It's not real. It's not real. It's not real!"
When the boy runs out, he suddenly finds himself crying.
000
Every day is a gift.
Red wakes him up, they have breakfast, they go someplace fantastic and have a great time, eat lunch, go train with each other, eat dinner, then fall asleep together on the couch. The gym is always closed for one reason or another- a gas outbreak, floors are too slippery, all the trainers are sick, the arrow tiles aren't working, etc. It's almost too good to be true.
Red loves him, and that's all that matters.
000
"I'm sorry."
He wouldn't have believed it if he had not seen the stranger's mouth move himself. Even after what seems like thirty dreams, it's always the same dream, same person, same place. It's quite boring, and Green's learned to ignore everything that goes around him until he falls into a blissful sleep once more.
The boy's never talked before.
"I'm just..." A pained sigh barely makes its way to Green's ears, followed by a nervous gulp. "Just... so, so, so sorry."
"For what?"
"For everything. Just, I'm just...sorry..." There are other words in that sentence, but Green already knows his reply.
"I hate you."
He doesn't know where that came from. The words feel so familiar somehow. He shakes it off. This is just an imitation of real life, just a dream. Not real. At all.
As always, the boy exits silently, not saying a word.
And he regrets nothing.
000
The boy doesn't come the next day.
Or the next.
Or the next.
The next..the next...the next...
000
One day, he stops having the dream. He wakes up in a cold sweat on that day, but relaxes as soon as he sees Red curled up beside him, clutching at his waist. The soft mutters of 'I love you' are heard, and Green smiles.
000
Derealization
An alteration in perception leading to the feeling that the reality of the world has been changed or lost.
A/N If enough people want it, I might make a Red's POV version of this. But for now, this story is complete.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. I would greatly appreciate it if you reviewed! :3