It's not snooping, Gary tells himself, if he just happens to find Ash's diary while casually rearranging the pokemon trainer's pillows. Of course, if asked, he does have a perfectly good explanation for why he is in his best friend's room in the first place, but he prays that he won't have to give it to anyone.
It's not his fault if, while fluffing one of the pillows with a bit more force than necessary – Who is he kidding? He nearly drives his fist through the headboard with that punch! – Ash's journal just happens to fall open.
And he is definitely not being nosy if he just happens to pick up the thick, worn out book and gingerly leafs through it – slowly at first, but not for long. His eyes run over the messily scrawled letters scratched into the slightly yellowed pages of the book and he laughs as revisits all of Ash's previous destinations and reads all about his follies.
And just as he nears the end of the latest entry – made just a few days ago – he spots his name, just as he has thousands of times throughout the diary. He stares at the curves of the letters in his name before noticing that today, something's different. Today, his name is not surrounded by the tiny hearts that he is sure Ash would instantly deny ever drawing. Today, his name has not been traced over again and again until it has made an imprint in the next page. Today, there is a note besides his name. And today, he pales as he reads it, once and then twice, before setting down the book where it should be and rushing out of Ash's room.
P.S. Gary, stop reading my diary.