thanks to flyingpancakes for the motivation to crank out this chapter!
They eat in silence.
Well, it's not actually silent, since in between the munching and crunching of the pizza she took twenty minutes to heat up, they give only the vaguest of commentary: praise over the doughy delight. But she'll take that happily, because there's a big difference between true silence and white noise. After years of learning to put her head down in the midst of the beeping and mumbling and shuffling of people and papers and Pokémon, Crys has become accustomed to the latter. It's soothing. Which is excellent, because most of this afternoon has been anything except tranquil.
Maybe if she could label it all, or categorize it — if there was only resentment, or only yearning, or something in between — or make it nice and neat, then perhaps she could make some more peace with the situation. But she can't, because every time their eyes happen to catch, there is always this moment of what to do.
The subtext is blurry. Neither of them want Gold to leave, and neither of them know what to do with him being here.
Her default confused aggression has faded somewhat, which is also good. Yes. There are many positives floating about right now, and she latches onto them as fast as she possibly can because the pizza is dwindling, and she is afraid of what will happen when there is again nothing between them but air and space and memories.
Earlier, her Pokémon team had accidentally helped her in this regard. When they came in for the afternoon it was to a sudden and zealous reunion with Gold. Crys had looked from one joyful face to the next and abruptly hid in the kitchen until the idea of dinner had come to her. Dinner is a distraction, simple and obvious — especially since she doesn't even eat dinner nowadays; instead, she fills up her plates twice as high for breakfast and lunch, since the evening is usually when the research road is rockiest — but she will use the excuse until its very last grating of cheese.
Which is, admittedly, sooner than expected.
"Go ahead," she says when there are only two slices left.
"Much obliged," he grins, and she tries to give him a less-weak smile than she feels.
Since the alternative option is to watch him eat, Crys casts her gaze around the room for something to say. This plan backfires supremely, because that photo album, that trouble-making time-traveler, is staring right back at her.
"So," she says, only too willing to think about something else.
Thankfully, Gold actually has something to add on.
"Wanna tell me what you've been working on lately?" he asks. "Evolution trees, right?"
She blinks.
"Yes," Crys says, amazed. "That's exactly right."
His face gets rosy. It's not the first time she's garnered such a reaction today, and it's...it's cute.
"Blue- Green, I mean- Green told Blue. About the research. Sort of. Probably."
Gold has never been a good liar, and now is no exception, but she doesn't quite understand the gravitas of it all — he has already admitted that, while, yes, Blue never hesitates to wonder aloud how Crys is doing in his presence, their brunette friend doesn't actually know Gold is here right now. That fact — that he is here unprompted by anyone — is a pleasant surprise.
(Gold doesn't know why he bothers; lying for fun is certainly a worthwhile hobby, but trying to cover his own pathetic depths is just sad. At least they both know he's making up fake explanations, but she doesn't call him out and he doesn't exacerbate it, only admits without admitting that his reply might not be overly related.)
He is still fidgeting by the time she figures out that it's her turn to talk.
"Yes. Evolution. You're absolutely right. The most surface level of it all is a busy, crowded field for sure. That's stones. But there are so many other questions that we have."
Whether he did it on purpose or not, Gold had hit upon the one thing that could absolutely annihilate her sense of awkwardness. She's on a roll now, and Science! has taken over.
"For example, why do Pokémon evolve the number of times that they do? Twice? Once? Never? And there are some that change species entirely based on their gender — and some whose appearance changes, too, which most researchers believe leads us to the conclusion that..."
"...and that's how I arrived in Hoenn: without my shoes, wearing that fluorescent coat, and absolutely soaked by the bloody nose," Gold finishes with satisfaction.
She can barely read his look of well-worn victory; her stomach muscles are seizing with laughter and there are tears nearly but not yet sliding down her cheeks.
"How were you not arrested?" Crys gasps.
"Well...that's the thing," Gold says with this sickly little grin. "I totally was."
"You're absolutely insane."
"Yeah, I know. And get this," he says dramatically. "Pichu has almost forgiven me."
"Your Pichu has it right," Crys informs him, but he throws his arms up.
"Hey, the boat thing was not my fault at all. If Pichu wants to throw a fit, I'll let Togekiss handle it."
"Very mature." As soon as the wry comment leaves her lips, she regrets it. Thankfully, he doesn't seem overly disappointed by her tactless reply.
"I try." He does cough, though, and she cringes. "Now."
"I see that," Crys tells him, softer now, and sincere. He smiles back at her.
"Yeah."
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. It's dark outside, now, but at least she had noticed it well enough to have already done the dishes and drawn the curtains. Gold has always had a way of making her lose track of time.
"You look tired." In the next second, she yawns, and then points a lazily accusing finger at him.
"Your fault."
"Guilty as charged," he says.
"No, no. It's just been a long week," Crys replies. "Today's the first day I've been home before dark in a month, and that's only because I have to be in by four o'clock tomorrow."
"That's not too bad," Gold starts, and then there's this hilarious look of dawning comprehension which crosses his eyebrows. "Ah. Never mind." She nods, stifling another yawn and trying not to feel bad about it because there are only fifty-two minutes until tomorrow. They sit in peaceful quiet for a bit.
(You spend the whole afternoon talking about doors that don't open, boats that don't float, and spoons with holes in them, but you can't ask her if she's free next weekend?)
"Hey."
"What?"
"I could, uh, be there. In the morning," Gold says. "If you needed help." She stares at him, at this no-longer-a-boy sitting on her couch. He scrubs one hand through his wild hair, tugging slightly, and her heart tightens at the familiar old tick. "I mean want. You don't need- my help. But if you wanted a second pair of hands. Or fourth pair. Or sixteenth, I guess."
Around the lump in her throat, she manages to pull together an answer.
"Sure, Gold. That would be great." Her voice echoes funny in her ears; it doesn't sound like her own.
"Okay," he nods.
"Okay."
"Great. Great." They both stand. "Do you know who runs the lab nightshift? I really hope those Mareep have either forgotten or forgiven me, after last time, but there's no way I'll have time to Fly anywhere else by now."
Crys snorts.
"First of all, Mareep never, ever forget," she tells him, because that's the easier of the two things in her head now. The second takes her a while to get out: "Second. You could stay here. On the couch. Or this one. If you want."
(Oh, and now his brain is just screaming. That is very helpful.)
"You sure?"
Is she?
"Yeah, I'm sure. Besides," she says, and then realizes that she has nothing to add. "I'll go get some pillows...and...stuff."
Three glazed-eyes accidental stare-offs, two pillows, and a sleeping bag later, Crys closes the door to her room against the sound of crinkly fabric. She can't close her mind against him nearly as easily, but there is at least one thing she knows now for sure:
She does not want to go another three years without seeing him.
(Surrounded on literally every single side and then some, both physically and mentally, by so many of his ex's things, Gold feels like he is drowning. He can't tell whether he wants to, though, so he closes his eyes and swirls the way she says Goodnight, Gold around in his head until he falls asleep.)
