A/N: Although summer school is long over, I find myself constantly distracted by one thing or another. It's a bad habit that I can't get over;; thank you for your patience. I wish I can promise a speedy update for next time, but I really can't. I suck at meeting personal deadlines. OTZ
Extra note: I FINALLY HAD SOME DECENCY TO MAKE SOMETHING MODERATELY LONG IN LENGTH. 'ALLELUJAH. So, I do hope you enjoy? For once I have alright feeling towards an update, which is really rare that I even approve of my own chapters .-.
Special thanks: to Mystia Katsuragi. I don't know why but her kind soul decided to beta this sdfghjk. Omg just bless you c': YOU ARE AMAZINGG.
A fun recommendation: Somewhere near the end I found it pretty exciting to type and listen to the recent/updated remix by GlitchxCity called "Kanto Gym Leader Remix VII." Just sayin' :u
Disclaimer: I continue to own nothing. Not even the chain I mentioned for coffee and Hershey, which is mentioned only once anyway.

Red went straight home after the warning bell hollered in the distance. His toes were numb from the melted snow delving deep into the material of his converse and into his socks, his fingers were turning an abnormal shade of a bright red-pink color, and he was sure if he tried to use his phone as a mirror, he would be certain the tip of his nose was delving into a hue of pink. The snow gradually accumulated since the morning, and truthfully the warmth of his red hoodie would not provide him any comfort by the time he reached his home.

However, he was fond of the cold temperature. It allowed him time to think, unlike the summer where he was constantly fanning himself from the heat wave or the spring when pesky bugs were around. People were barely compelled to brave the cold weather outside, leaving the town seemingly uninhabited – autumn was moderately bearable, besides the ongoing problem of far too many people outside.

When Red arrived home, promptly kicking the tip of his shoes on the white-shrouded "Welcome!" carpet, he locked the door behind him and poked his head inside to inspect whether his mother was still home. Met with silence, Red casually tossed his messenger bag haphazardly on the floor and proceeded to walk upstairs, where faintly he could hear a barely audible and frantic scratching noise against his bedroom door.

"I'm home, Pikachu," he announced as he gripped the door knob, alerting the little mouse to scoot away so he could open the door without harming the small creature. Quickly crouching to offer his palm for his friend, he scooped Pikachu off the floor and planted the mouse on his shoulder, momentarily allowing Pikachu to get comfortable—which meant carefully trekking its way into the hood of his hoodie, its snout poking out in the air to breathe through the thick material—before he stood back on his feet. He shuffled around the room to pick up the scattered toys Pikachu played with while he was at school, then he seated himself next to his laptop. He printed out his mother's ticket for her flight, browsed through several websites, and cluttered his head with ongoing distractions, yet he found his attention gradually ebbing away.

Knowing he could not avoid his plaguing thoughts, he closed his laptop, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he exhaled deeply through his nose. Red had little energy to do much of anything on a daily basis, but Green was draining him of everything he initially had in his system. In only a span of two days he has been feeling more emotions than he has ever had in a single year: exasperation, exhaustion, humiliation, and mild confusion. Red drummed his fingers on the arm rest, shaking his head gently.

Green was smug, reckless, foolish—there would never be enough brain bleach to destroy the mental image of that terrible performance he had to witness in the cafeteria, his appetite completely lost having to spot Gold and Green strutting on the tables for the shits and giggles—and an eyesore. Red was at a loss as to what more he could do, given how he simply could not just make a sign and write in large letters: "Please tell this inconsiderate jackass to stop harassing me."

Opening his eyes, he removed his shoes belatedly, then he hoisted his weight on the seat to sit cross-legged on his revolving chair, removing Pikachu from his hood in order to lean back comfortably.

"Mom fed you?" he asked quietly, a warm smile gracing his lips, his eyes drawing half-lidded from the nagging tiredness he has been feeling since the morning. His friend never responded but wiped its snout with its small stubby hands, its beady black eyes steadily observing Red.

He nodded, satisfied, and began speaking again. It was paced, always at the volume of a whisper—any loud noises could easily startle Pikachu—and leveled. "Something happened today. And it…" he gulped down the bulge forming in his throat, "… I wonder how many times I might have to come home and reassure mom. I might…be overthinking this or maybe a bit…paranoid. But today has made me," he paused, the small smile he wore tipping downward in a deepening frown, "…really…consider I'll have more this days like this."

Red brought Pikachu close to this face, quirking his head slightly to examine the small creature. "No matter what happens, I'll…I'll tell her the same thing…" His eyes clenched shut; he could feel the tiny hands of his best friend gently pawing at his nose, the ticklish whiskers brushing against his cheeks. And he could remember the burning sensation where his wrist was gripped, the rushing palpitations of his heart, the dread sending terrible chills down his spine. The eyes of onlookers accusing him, most regarding him with an uneasy distrust, the words that were going to form but failed to be vocalized upon looking deep into Gold's cautious amber eyes.

He highly doubted all days will end up Green being as "kind" as he was in the end of the day, and he wished he knew what he could anticipate for the days to come. For the worst of his days, for the merciful days, and for the days where he could seek comfort when he might finally be left alone. His mother—with visible bags under her eyes that were never prominent in family pictures during his early and preadolescence years, her long black flowing hair now always messily tied in a tight bun, loose strands falling on her face—was such a fragile woman, he refused to worry her. Reopening his eyes again he curled his fingers close to give Pikachu a careful scratch on its plump belly.

"…I'll keep telling her…" the words trailed off, leaving the pair to embrace the silent atmosphere.

Two hours later his mother returned with the groceries, mildly surprised to see Red walking down the staircase. Giving her a welcoming nod, he searched through the bags for treats. Red helped dust off the clumps of snow in her moist hair, placed most of the items she could barely reach in the pantry, and patiently waited for her to prepare a meal. Hearing her hum softly put him at ease: she was in a good mood, and he was in better spirits because his mother had bought him four chocolate bars. He perked a very faint grin—although even then he usually appeared to be frowning regardless—and tore away some of the colorful foil, nibbling on an end.

"Don't eat them all at once, Red," she advised jokingly. "I'll be unpacking several more of the winter clothes. Remember to wear a scarf, young man; don't make me have to check before you leave."

He said nothing but nudged Pikachu, who had trailed down his arm to sniff around the table for any food, away from the small bowl containing the chocolate bars.

His mother opened the cabinets, gathering two plates and a small serving bowl, evenly distributing the food. She fished an apple and some leafy greens from the refrigerator for Pikachu's meal.

"How was school?"

He lowered his gaze. "Fine," he responded, biting off a chunk of the candy bar.

His mother nodded and reached for the knife, proceeding to chop the apple into thin, even slices. She stopped humming.

The snow did worsen overnight, much to his relief and dismay, and the school called to inform him he would have a delayed opening. Despite the alert he wanted to skip his first class, so he casually lied to his mother, who was hardly awake enough in her bed to fully acknowledge his comment, and went outside to begin shoveling the snow gathering around his house. After he returned the shovel to the shed in the backyard, he made his way inside the house to his room and reached for his phone, calling his employer to say that he would be willing to work today—he never really needed the job, money was sent once a week that covered more than enough of all the expenses, including money just to burn. But it was a decent distraction, and it also added to the emergency funds in case of anything—after he was told he could arrive, he scampered into his walk-in closet for his clothes.

When Red was well and ready, he bid farewell to his mother and Pikachu, set his headphones on his ears, adjusted the messenger bag around his shoulder, and locked the door behind him as he reached the snowy outside. He was feeling a tad bit tired, but at least his own job specialized in different brews of coffee.

"Green, I know you can hear me!" Daisy bellowed from the other side of his bedroom door, patiently she waited a few seconds before knocking on the door again. "Grandpa wants you to buy more rock salt!"

With an exaggerated groan he kicked off the sheet, briefly apologizing to Eevee for tossing him off his bed in his childish rage and approached the door in slow, unhurried steps. He fastened the string of his boxers before turning the knob of the door, yawning rather rudely as he stared at his sister in his drowsy stupor.

She made a face, scrunching her nose, her lips pursed. "Would it kill you to wear a shirt when you sleep?"

"Daisy," he said patiently, blinking at her slowly, "this is my room, I can do whatever I damn well please." Tiredly he rested his head on the door sill, absently using his free hand to scratch his unruly bed head. "And it's eight in the morning. If you think I care about anything at this hour then you really need to consider how much you know about your wonderful brother."

"Just get the salt," she huffed, crossing her arms.

"Why don't we just shovel the snow? Or, how about this fantastic idea?" he asked with a feigned amount of amusement, flashing a forced, bright smile. When she hiked an eyebrow his expression instantly fell as he explained to her rather flatly, "You get it."

He made an attempt to shut the door but growled under his breath when it refused to close with his sister's foot wedged between the gap. Heaving a resigned sigh he trotted toward his closet to get his clothes. "Fine, fine. But you better put down an extra ten 'cause if I have to go out when it's this cold, I want a coffee from Starbucks!"

Silver liked Red.

He was better company than half the population he had to tolerate in school, including the biggest pest of his existence, the loudest friend he never really desired or would have ever approached, tolerating his compulsion to be attached: that insistent, nerve-grating, headache-inducing Gold.

So working the same shifts was calming throughout the morning rush, when the crowd died down and dispersed the pair would claim a table near the window, no words spoken between sips of their morning brews. When there was small talk it would—even surprisingly enough for him—be Silver that would lead the conversations that usually involved a string of foul words, rants, or the ordinary talk of entertainment from the web or television. Red hardly spoke much but Silver rather enjoyed the fact that, regardless of the discussion, Red was always an attentive listener: never droning bits or pieces, often giving a few nods, or even adding a short input of his own.

Red was mildly surprised Silver was willing to work on a delayed opening but he made no comment, instead he quickly stuffed his belongings in his locker—even to this day he could never suppress the feeling of emptiness when he had to store away his precious iPod and headphones—slipped on his apron, and fastened his visor. The two workers hurriedly worked behind the sidelines making the coffee—their employer took pity on them, well aware it was complicated for them to smile and they were better off making a brew than trying to greet customers—rushing past each other often as the little cafe was invaded within minutes.

After an hour the crowd was more than manageable, slowly but surely it was empty for a good amount of time, allowing the cashier to clean the tables and for Red to take a quick bathroom break. Silver snatched a newspaper from the rack, pulled out a stool, skimming through the pages to entertain himself for the meantime. He barely leafed through two pages before he felt a cool breeze enter, inwardly groaning at the customer taking his or her sweet time to close the door. His gray eyes averted from the newspaper to the cashier busily cleaning a spill on a table, so with a resigned sigh Silver dismounted the stool and approached the counter.

"Welcome to Star-oh god, why did it have to be you," Silver hissed, his eyes narrowing. 'Of course this dickwad somehow manages to ruin my goddamn morning. Why would I have thought otherwise?'

Green dragged a bulky bag of salt through the front door; he paused before looking forward to regain his breath, the voice welcoming him sounded too familiar to be true. Planting the bag to the nearest table Green directed his attention to the cashier, a devious smirk creeping on his face. "Well, well, if it isn't Silvia. How's it hanging?"

"My name isn't Silvia. Read the name tag, dipshit." He emphasized briefly by pointing at the tag on his apron, but when he heard Green chuckle he lowered his hand. 'Do the world a favor and go away, you egotistical fuck.'

Green's feigned a look of hurt. "You're wounding me, Silvia. But you should do the world a favor and watch that tone of yours." After ignoring the mental remark—a simple, uncreative 'Eat shit!'—he continued, regaining his cheeky grin. "And do the world a better favor and get me a grande caramel macchiato, so chop chop."

"That's it," Silver announced curtly, "I am so fucking done." Given no explanations but a never ending mental rant, Silver turned his back on the cash register, stomping heatedly into the back room, ensuring the loud slam of the closing door was well heard.

Green frowned, wondering if anyone was going to take his order. He could badger the worker cleaning the tables but she disappeared into the hall before he could sum up the words, presumably to the bathroom. But he barely gave it much of a thought to wait, so he took every opportunity to sit down, moaning moodily of the cold moistness of his socks from the overbearing snow outside. The brunet lowered his focus to the polished floor, freezing almost immediately at the sight of a pair of red converses taking unhurried, even steps.

Red either ignored his presence or was genuinely not aware of him; the raven-haired teen was busy wiping his hands with a paper towel – Red kept his focus on his hands, giving Green an ample view of his long, black eyelashes with faint specks of red hues present. Red made a sharp turn to return to his station behind the counter, looking around a little as if searching for someone, and his quiet mental comment of 'Where's Silver?' confirmed Green's assumption that he was looking for his temperamental coworker. Although in his search he visibly stiffened, he craned his neck just a tad to look over his shoulder.

'How did he find me here too?' Red thought, a little unnerved too, almost distressed he was running out of places to hide from Green.

Green, however, rolled his eyes. "I'm not stalking you, if it makes you feel better," he said in exasperation, frowning at how relieved Red appeared from the statement. "I had to pick up some salt. With a couple of bucks to spare I thought of heading to the closest place that was selling some coffee. Now here I am, still waiting for my caramel macchiato that Silver was too much of a prissy little princess to make."

Red turned on his heel, stopping at the cash register as he nodded with disinterest, forcing his voice out to obey standard procedures to ask, "Anything else with that?"

Despite himself, Green regained the enthusiasm to stand up from his chair to seize the opportunity to walk toward the counter and lean forward, offering a shit-eating smile. "Made with extra love."

'Made with extra would-you-piss-off-already, prick,' he thought wryly. "Extra whipped cream then?"

It really is hard to dislike Red, Green mused. "Yeah. Lots and lots. I love that white, creamy good stuff."

Red couldn't suppress making a face of pure disgust before turning around quickly to make the order. The faster it was made, the faster Green would leave.

Having Red busily occupied making the order, not even commenting verbally nor mentally, he ignored the girlish thoughts of the cashier that returned from her duties. Green stepped aside a little to allow other customers to order, he drummed his fingers on the counter, entranced by Red's diligence: the little to no facial expressions when moving around from one position to the other, the briefest moments he went to reach something with his long, thin fingers, the occasional halts to push aside his overgrown black fringes to a side when, in only a matter of seconds, the hair would fall back into place regardless of his efforts.

And it was at that moment the cashier went to assist Red—she was inwardly groaning where Silver strayed off to, and Green himself nearly chuckled at that—though he barely gave her much of a response to accept her help, or even paid her any form of eye contact. The second she placed her hand on his shoulder, having no other intention but to reach for a packet of peppermint tea, she nearly stumbled at how quickly Red flinched away. They were caught in a stressing eye lock, but she shook her head, disregarding her coworker's antics, and ripped the packet open, plopping the bag in a cup of warm water.

After handing the bills to Red, shortly followed by an appreciative nod, Green asked innocently without giving it much of a thought, "So what's with you? The whole 'I will freak out if someone lays a finger on me,' 'cause I know some people don't like to be hugged but damn, Red, you take the cake." After finishing, he took a sip of his coffee, not liking the way Red was sending him a deathly glower. Then again, he was going to take advantage of the fact that Red couldn't, as much as he would have liked to, ignore him: his job would never allow it, and he was without his precious headphones to mute Green from the picture.

"Have a good day, sir," he seethed venomously. 'And keep your curiosity out of places where it doesn't belong. Or, matter of fact, where it's not wanted or needed.'

"You know," Green said between sips, his eyebrows knitting together, a displeased frown replacing his carefree mood, "the customer service here needs improvement, but that's beside the point. There are people in this world that do get concerned."

Red said nothing, merely keeping his frown, his patience slowly withering.

Groaning, Green took another sip. "Look, I'm not here to fight with you. Honestly, I just wanted some coffee 'cause it's cold as piss outside and I'm dead tired. My sister didn't even try to take my place to get some salt instead. Don't worry, I'm gonna leave anyway since she sent me a text before I got here that Eevee is ripping up my pillows as we speak."

Red rolled his eyes, but he stopped himself from crossing his arms to merely think, 'What's an eevee?'

Green gave himself a thoughtful pause, remembering faintly how Red was overly attached to his pet mouse when he confronted Ruby, and he realized himself he hardly made any progress getting Red to think of him other than being an annoying leech. Perhaps, Green considered carefully, Red enjoyed being around animals just as much as the rest of his family, or at least to some extent, considering the zoology class was an elective for those interested – or available for those that needed the credits. Out of the corner of his eye he could see new customers kicking the snow off their feet, idly chatting over what their order will be, causing Green to search through the pocket of his sweater, pull out his phone, and swipe the screen for several pictures of Eevee.

Red, however, was going to turn on his heel to return to his station after being forced to entertain Green even for a few minutes. He was appreciative that Green would not even make an attempt to grab his arm over the counter to catch his attention this time, but he did exclaim unnecessarily loud enough to startle him from leaving with a "Hold up!"

Green offered his phone with such a genuine smile, neither malicious nor devious, that Red eventually sighed through his nose and took the device. He was instructed to scroll as much as time allowed him to. Maybe, Green hoped, maybe he could worm his way through Red's tough exterior, and maybe talking with another pet owner could convince him otherwise he was not that bad of a person.

"Meet Eevee, my fennec fox. Eves is a demonic little thing sometimes, don't get me wrong, but I wouldn't trade him for the world. My gramps gave it to me, and since he dabbles around the area to research all different kinds of animals, he happened to give me Eevee as a birthday present, like…seven years ago? Maybe eight?" he laughed, recalling how adorable Eevee was: a timid little thing back then, always scared of loud noises at first and found comfort hiding in the smallest places imaginable.

And despite having his doubts, it worked: Red was fully entranced, a corner of his lip twitching upward, giving every picture a fraction of a second to pause, really look at it, before flicking his finger to the next picture. "Sometimes my sis takes a break from her own research papers to pick me up from school, and when she does she usually invites Eevee for a ride. So…uhm…if you'd like…" The brunet was never one to be choked for words. When he asked Gold a year ago it was a short, straight-to-the-point invite, yet now he found himself in a mind-boggling predicament to ask Red of all people.

Red returned the phone when he was done with the album, his tense expression lessened, and he was appearing moderately calmer than before. 'He's adorable,' Red thought but never said. Green perked up, excited that, yes, finally he's made some progress. "Would you like to meet Eevee sometime? He usually gets nervous around new people." Realizing his wording, he spluttered, "E-Eves doesn't bite though!"

Red covered his mouth with one hand, his shoulders trembling, his eyes scrunching close. Did he accomplish the unfathomable to make Red laugh?

Green blinked, unsure how to act. "Wow, now that's adorable." He quickly amended his comment before he could make Red go stiff—god knows he felt like he was walking on eggshells, unsure whether the slightest remark or compliment could set Red off—by asking quickly, "Is that a yes?"

Red regained his composure, but he kept his mouth covered, nodding modestly enough.

"Sweet. So, uh, do you have any pets?" Because Red absolutely had no idea Green tried to pry some answers out of people. Nope, not at all.

Red's hand fell back to his side, answering Green's question with a nod. "I have-"

"Red! Get Silver and get these orders going already!" his coworker snapped.

Green mumbled an apology for taking his time that Red passively disregarded, and before he knew it Red returned to his station, although Green was unsure whether or not the whispered "bye" was said mentally or verbally. He knew he'd overstayed his welcome, so hauling the bag of rock salt over his shoulder and throwing the empty cup of coffee in the trash can, he left the cafe.

The next three days went relatively better than the first two. Green kept himself under control, and on Friday morning he offered Red a cookies n' cream Hershey bar—which was, at first, going to be declined, but eventually Red yielded and accepted with much reluctance—and it was even better progress on a ordinary cloudy Friday when Red switched from the oversized headphones that covered his ears entirely to his black beats ear buds. Green left the conversations shared between them to a minimum; Red's thoughts were progressively becoming less hostile and less exhausted.

Red was starting to feel school was now a little bit more manageable. He may have wanted to stay home all day, sure, or remain on his bed, curled up against Pikachu, eating his favorite snacks, but at least his guilt vanished when he had to lie to his mother when she asked the same question as she did every other day – she was humming more too, so Red could say he was pleased. Did he open up entirely to Green, this stranger? Absolutely not.

If Green wanted in, possessing an odd, unexplained desire to befriend him, then that's fine, as long as he behaved and kept quiet most of the time. When lunch time came around, Red seated himself at a desolate table in the farthest corner of the cafeteria—he never minded sitting alone, as he did that often at breakfast, unless Blue was begging him to hand over his homework. He could have sat with Ruby or Sapphire, or even the kind freshman trio since Yellow had to leave early, but in the end he chose not to—munching slowly into his sandwich. He stared at his tray with a blank look, thoroughly contemplating whether he wanted to get up and ask for a carton of juice that he forgot to take along the way.

"Got'cha one," Green said, taking a seat across from Red. Planting the carton within reach for Red, Green said nothing else as he devoured his own meal.

A senior arrived at their table to remind Green of a mandatory indoor track practice after school, and when he left Red disappointingly set his meal down. 'Why a mandatory one…'

Green did a double-take at that, feeling slightly guilty he has yet to realize all this time Red was even a member, and he himself was an active participant that was fully aware of everyone in the club. "You're part of the team?" he asked, not hiding the evident amount of shock in his voice.

Red hitched an eyebrow, 'And you would assume that instantly…how?' Because he was certain all he did was look morosely at his sandwich, and judging by Green's disbelief he must have never acknowledged he was part of the team the entire time. Regardless of his small suspicion he nodded, bringing the sandwich back to his mouth.

Panicking, Green swiftly averted the topic by asking, "How's Pikachu?" Yesterday he managed to get Red to show him a picture of his pet, and he also explained he was not at all disgusted that Red would have a household "pest" for a pet – after all, Green was accustomed to being exposed to various animals all his life through his grandfather's research. Judging by Red's faintly visible fidgeting form he could plainly tell that there were plenty of judgmental people that would cringe seeing a mouse or even a rat as a pet. Red looked at ease though, so Green explained as much as he could about his grandfather.

Red was aware of Professor Oak's research, admiring every single aspect, and before Green started talking about his grandfather Red carefully removed the buds from his ears to listen respectfully. There was a glint in Red's scarlet eyes, not the dull gleam he had the first two days that looked void of emotions, of any feelings, and every so often a question would arise in Red's head that Green answered by recalling a certain memory about the subject to clarify. Green held back the urge to invite Red one day, just one day somewhere this year, to his house where he could ask all the questions he wanted—if he asked them all—and be exposed to several different creatures his grandfather studied at the ranch nearby.

For the lack of a better word, Green found Red endearing if not difficult on most occasions. Green occasionally threw a comment or two, usually a balance of being a wise ass or a disgusting or crude remark – that never changed, but Red was becoming a tad bit more tolerant. But during lunch he brightened up, not through his facial expression per se, when Green told him his sister was going to pick him up, meaning Eevee would also come along.

They continued to pretend Tuesday morning never occurred. Green had no intention of physically touching Red, and he sent everyone a glare when they even thought of resurfacing the subject. Gold was becoming restless at his progress, and when Green passed by his locker he muttered a giddy "Cha-ching!"

If we really get along, Green thought, I'll just keep Gold's trap shut that this bet never happened. He could never even imagine how infuriated, how enraged Red would be if he found out – it ran a shudder down his spine, but nothing like laughing at Gold's deflated expression couldn't remedy.

When his final class came and went, Green headed for the gymnasium, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Red arriving with a duffel bag. The brunet really tried to reflect how on earth he could have never noticed Red in any track meeting or practice, yet he was not given much time to question the mere thought of it when his coach opened the doors, barking at the two to hurry and change.

Red went for the stalls rather than the changing room; shrugging, Green fastened his sneakers, joining several others greeting him, only to be yelled at by the coach to do some stretches.

In matter of minutes they were sentenced to run laps, and when Red finally appeared he was looking disinterested as usual when the coach called him over. "Well, look who showed up at long last," Green overheard, stopping but out of view from the coach's sight. "I want to see you run for once, Red, jogging ain't gonna do you much justice."

Red quirked his head, 'Lack of effort, thy name is Red,' he thought plainly. Green snickered, thoroughly amused watching on the sidelines.

The coach redirected his attention to the other runners, "C'mon, ladies! I want to see you move!"

Green briefly lamented how strict the training was having a former lieutenant as a track instructor. When he completed his laps, as well as everyone else, the coach proposed a little race between teammates to "really get them going." It was nobodies against nobodies, people Green had little interest over versus people he forgot the names of, and the customary event where he raced a few of the runners.

Everyone was going to have a turn, the coach reminded, but mostly directed the comment toward Red who was busily scrolling through his iPod to listen.

There was a round of compliments Green's teammates offered him for his performance, the usual "it's impossible to beat you!" ego-boost, and eventually his coach was suckered into giving his hair a ruffle to complement his talent. The coach's smile faltered spotting Red lost in thought. "Your turn. Let's see you up against Green."

Red's eyelids fell half-lidded, warning his coach that he was in no mood to exceed over a lap – it worked, making the coach announce that it will only be a one-lap race. Wrapping the cord of his ear buds around his iPod, he tossed his music player to the coach for safe-keeping, listlessly making his way to the starting line.

Green beamed an eager smirk as he made his way to the starting line. "Ready to eat my dust?"

They took their positions, readying their sprint. Red sighed in his head, thinking, 'So much for an easy day.'

The whistle blew and they were off: Green knew he was going to win, even without looking back he could safely assume Red was lagging, so all he would do would be to run, enjoy the coolness of the wind rushing past his sweat-shined body, imagining the scenario how in the end he would offer a thumbs-up for Red's effort regar-

why was Red passing him.

Red maintained a still look on his face, his breath controlled – he should have felt some weight or wind-resistance from the baggy sweatpants slipping off the contours of his slim waist, his plain black shirt riding up on one side. Green immediately assumed he was either becoming delirious or unconsciously slowing down, whichever it is was he quickened the pace, ignoring the burning clench he felt along his calves.

Red's eyes flickered over toward Green, not alarmed in the slightest he was picking up the pace, putting every fiber of his energy to outrun him – it was suppose to be a fun little lap, or meant to be at least, and truth be told Red would have liked to avoid tiring himself out. He was a sleepy individual, possessed a bundle of sugary confections and energy bars to keep him wide awake throughout the day stored in his messenger bag, but he never half-assed something competition-wise. He lacked the energy to do most things, like schoolwork projects that will never remotely have an impact on his life, but he had to consider when he reached the halfway point: did he really want to win, knowing the spotlight will be directed on him? Or leave things the way they are, never really trying?

Furrowing his brows, Red made the decision to put every effort into their race. The trickles of beaded sweat rolled down his face, down his neck. His legs were fine, he had plenty of energy in him, and Green was fast approaching.

When Green arrived par-to-par with Red, he used that initiative to dash, outdoing Green's fullest extent severely as he made his way from the midway point immediately to the finishing point. Although naturally reserved and never one to boast, Red was confident in his skills to run—including other sports-related activities he barely participated in—he seldom made the track meetings or practices, and he tried to remain unnoticed as much as possible. He would hold a steady gaze at his fellow runners that rushed past him in his paced jog, knowing without a doubt he was faster than all of them.

Green stopped running completely, his mouth hanging open just as the rest of the runners, and even the coach was rendered uncharacteristically speechless. Seeing as no one dared to say anything, Red jogged on over to the wall to lean against it, wiping his face with a towel from the rack beside him.

"So you could run," the coach said first, "you could run!" he added more proudly, more animatedly for the first time in months. "You even broke Green's record by a landslide!"

Red extended his hand, as if to say, 'Can I have my iPod now?'

"Another lap!"

All heads followed the sound, every set of eyes locking on Green. He was fuming in the inside, livid even, but he wanted a rematch to confirm it had been nothing but beginner's luck. He was Green Oak: he didn't lose, he never loses. He kept his calm, sounding almost friendly in his demand.

Red made a face, wondering why he needed to go through that again, yet he enjoyed a little competition every now and then, so he figured, 'Sure, why not.'

Hearing Red's confirming thought, Green readied himself at the starting line. He demanded three laps, and when his opponent nodded he announced it to the rest of the runners chattering amongst themselves, all sharing the same train of thought of 'Whoa, he could lose?'

The coach sounded his whistle.

On the first lap Green snickered, he was ahead of Red within a short span of time, and just out of curiosity he looked over his shoulder, witnessing Red stopping to tie his sneaker. The coach in the background bellowed, "The hell do you think you're doing, Red?!"

Even then Red regained the lead, completing the first lap nine seconds earlier than Green, then proceeding to the next lap without wasting a single valuable second. The second lap came and went, Green always looking directly at Red's back but never succeeding to past him like he did before, hating every passing moment he felt like his world was going in slow motion to hear every single thought running through the other runners' heads, to see their facial expressions of mingled disbelief and surprise that made Green acknowledge halfway through the third lap he was losing.

Him, Green Oak, defeated against a nobody. Against someone that barely had any friends, barely spoke, barely was even given a glance by a girl, that fell asleep in mostly all his classes, that spent an unnatural amount of time with his pet rodent instead of actual people, that had an anxiety attack when someone invaded his space bubble or even poked him-

Red made it to the finish line, this time eight seconds ahead of Green.

He lost.

Red reached for his towel, grabbed an extra one, and walked over to Green standing firmly on the starting line. He extended his hand, offering the towel, thinking, 'It was a good race.' He looked up, fixated at the clock. 'Hopefully she didn't leave.' Red was masking his excited anticipation to make it outside with Green, to finally meet Eevee he talked so much about – petting a fennec fox was definitely new.

The brunet snatched the offered towel, tossing it playfully from one hand to the other, throwing it in the air twice, then balled it up in his hands. Red's focus never left the clock, using this distraction he scrunched the balled up towel tight, tossing it in his hands experimentally to see if it would unravel itself. Seeing as it did not, also noticing how it felt a bit hefty in his possession, he steadied his arm, his fingernails digging deep into the fabric as he aimed and chucked it ruthlessly at Red's distracted form.

Even though his fury may have been petty to all that witnessed it, Green could not bring it upon himself to care: not about Red, not about his running mates he pushed aside, not even the detention he was expected to receive on Monday for his behavior and refusal to listen to his coach shouting at him to "Come back and apologize!"

The brunet heatedly stomped his way to his locker to reclaim his possessions, locking it shut he left for the parking lot, leaving Daisy to drive in silence seeing as her little brother was in a terrible mood to answer her harmless questions. When Eevee tried to comfort him, he merely ignored the whining and curious little yips.

In the gym, however, Red picked up the towel Green tossed at him, ignoring mostly everyone's weak compliments and his coach's encouragement to come to practice more often. Reclaiming his music player, Red secured his duffel bag, exiting the gym early despite the ten minutes left to the club, and made his way to his locker to leave the duffel bag and fasten his messenger bag over his shoulder.

Red told himself he should have seen this coming, that he should have known better than to think someone like Green could actually become a better person to some extent. Red was grateful to himself for never letting Green in, but disappointed with himself all the same that he almost allowed it.

A/N: Am I incorporating rivalry angst? Hell fucking yes. It's my favorite kink in originalshipping fics /guilty as charged. And for now that's it from me, so thanks for your reviews! I'll make sure to reply to them asap or before the next update like I usually try to.

initially i was thinking of Red working in a department store, but my other guilty kink are for cafes and stuff overpowered me. psh i regret nothing.