"Alright Gold. Enough is enough. What's wrong?"
The aforementioned teen glanced up from his place at the table, pausing momentarily in his report. Documents were scattered all around him, detailing new baby Pokémon from some far away region. Work had definitely picked up throughout the past few months, assuredly the reason for those ominous bags beneath his amber eyes and growing notches between his eyebrows. At least, that's what Silver attempted to convince himself. He was no therapist- emotions were never his strong suit- but a creeping feeling had lodged itself in his chest. In fact, it had been there for a while.
"...what?", came the eloquent response.
" You heard me," the redhead returned. Shit, not too harsh, he scolded himself, always too damn harsh. "I know something's wrong, Gold. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, whichever you want."
"This'll be pretty easy then, cause nothing's wrong with me! I get it bro, Intervention is your show at the moment, but leave the therapy to Candy." Silver could've predicted the response the moment his boyfriend opened his mouth. Same grin(it seems rehearsed somehow), same smartass retort(spoken mechanically as well), same dismissal(I want to help you), same routine, every fucking time.
Instantly, the paper was whisked off the table from under Gold's hand. Coolly indifferent, the teen leaned back and snickered.
"Hey, I gotta get that in by tomorrow. Take it. If Oak loses his shit, it'll be at you, not me."
Steely eyes narrowed in annoyance. Avoiding the question, check. Typical.
"Quit joking around, shithead!" Silver took a deep breath. You have to tell him, he assured himself, he has to know. "... I read it."
Finally, the smirk evaporated, and instantly Silver felt its absence(barren territory. Like a carnival after closing.). Gold's face blanched and for once, he seemed to hesitate before speaking again.
"You read it?"
In all honesty, Silver was ready for the routine. Catch the dumbass waist deep in his antics(the words leave a bad taste in the mouth), push down the fear of intimacy, love, or any sappy shit he was deprived of(they drip with sincere repulsion), argue heatedly for a minute or two, and when it's all well and done, then Silver can look at him and say... he can find his voice and say... he can be a fucking man and say-
"How can you say those things about yourself?" Silver's voice wobbled despite himself(I want to say I love you, Gold).
The pen his hand grasped suddenly stilled. He laid it down on the table gently, never breaking eye contact with Silver. Silence engulfed the apartment; it was heavy and dark and oddly intimidating, perfectly matching the sitting man's stare. After several excruciating moments, Gold spoke again.
"It's nothing, Silver."
"Really? So writing about what a fucking failure you are is nothing? Going on about being worthless and untal-"
"What I don't understand is why you're wasting your time with my bullshit! Man, you have other things to worry about and my bitch fit isn't one of them."
"...didn't sound like a bitch fit to me", Silver muttered. Conversations were hard, he had realized years ago, and although he had gained the freedom to speak since his escape, Silver was still content to leave the verbal confrontations of emotion and problems to somebody else. Unfortunately, the roles were reversed this time, and that somebody was sitting right in front of him with a face of annoyance and embarrassment. Facade be damned, because Silver could still see the fear he was desperate to mask. The words were on the tip of his tongue, composed of the distorted conversations they'd had together(when he helped you out). "It's… uh.. it's alright to struggle, you know."
Gold simply slouched his face into his hands.
"I'm not struggling. I don't have a reason to struggle. I don't have a reason to get angry or get upset or- or do whatever the fuck I'm doing now."
"What do you me-"
"I've had it easy, Silver. I've had everything handed to me. My family, my pokémon, everything, and I'm sitting here like I have one damn thing to be the slightest bit upset about. It's pathetic. I'm pathetic, and don't you fucking lie and say that what I wrote isn't true."
With that, Gold finally stood up and strode away. Silver could swear that among his reddened face and taut mouth, there was faint moisture in his eyes.