Push The World Away
"Though he returned to Viridian after his long search, he still pushed the world away. After all, he was still gone."
Sorry if he seems a little OOC. I'm sure he really does sometime question why he's left everything, though. Or even feel guilty.
Time for a slightly different narrating style. Since the conclusion will be coming up soon, some things need to be explained before then.
Isolated Civilization
Crimson eyes fluttered slowly open, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the strange lighting that surrounded him. He found himself lying on his back, nestled in something soft. The surroundings looked familiar though – neutral walls with bookshelves crammed with Pokemon books; a computer on a desk in the corner… it took him a moment to realise it was his own house. The raven pushed himself slowly up into a sitting position as he continued to look around the room. It had been years since he had begun his journey, and though he had gone home to visit a few times before becoming champion, he had never realised that his room was always spotless when he returned. His books – ones he had pored over; lying on the floor of his room, memorising every page until the corners were dog eared and the spines were worn- were organised in order of author on the shelves; his desk and computer monitor without a speck of dust.
Pikachu, who was curled up on the blanket above his stomach stirred to Red's movement. He slowly looked up at his trainer before perking up his ears excitedly. The little mouse cried happily before dashing off the bed and down the stairs, leaving Red to his own musings.
'Why am I here?' He thought. The raven sunk into the pillows and closed his eyes, trying to remember what had happened after the battle with the boy.
He had picked up Pikachu and then fell… but what then?
The faint yet cheerful sing-song voice of Mr. Mime was almost drowned out by the whistling of the wind and the patter of rain outside. 'Wind…' Red thought, 'sounds much different here'; he had almost forgotten.
Yet the wind had reminded him of something – through hazy memories, he vaguely began to remember floating upwards as he fell. His arms holding on tightly to something sleek yet warm. The sound of beating wings and a roar. But Red can't really remember. The sound of the boy shouting, but his words were whipped away by the wind. He didn't remember seeing anything at all.
The blanket was already up to his neck, but the teen tugged it even closer. Being back in his room made him feel suddenly alone.
But he wasn't alone for long. Pikachu bounded back up the stairs; a woman he recognised as his mother and a familiar-looking man in tow. His mother placed a tray on the table – in it was a steaming bowl with a spoon and three cups. She picked up two of the cups, handing one to the man and one to her son.
Red stared blankly at the two of them before shuffling back into his seated position. His fingertips tingled as he reached out to grasp the cup, almost dropping it as the heat from the ceramic met his fingers. Luckily his mother had not let go; the cup merely wobbled slightly, its contents threatening to spill out.
"Well, I'd assume that would mean he's all right, if he can still feel it," the man said, taking a sip from his. He pulled a chair from the corner and placed it beside the bed, motioning for the woman to sit down.
They both smiled warmly at him; his mother spoke first. "We're glad you're all right." The man nodded. Crimson eyes stared blankly at the two of them, brushing over the man and settling on his mother's hands. 'Had she always been that thin?" He thought it was just his vision at first, but he noticed that she was shaking.
A soft sob escaped her lips and her voice wavered as she spoke. "You're back, you're really back." She placed the cup on the floor before wrapping her arms around him. "He brought you back…" he could feel her trembling as her sobs grew louder.
The man Red now remembered as the Professor now looked at Red seriously. "We're relieved you're safe though – you've been sleeping for over a week now." The raven tilted his head slightly, prompting him to continue. "We were surprised when you showed up passed out on Charizard; it's amazing he knew how to get back here without your instruction!"
Ah, so that was what he was holding onto in his memories.
"He was tired, but still managed to bring you back here. All your other Pokemon were exhausted too, not to mention you yourself. What happened?"
Red didn't answer. His eyes shifted to Pikachu, who stared worriedly at him on his lap.
The man took another sip from the cup before speaking again. "And he was here a while back. It looked like he was going to cry when he talked about you, and just disappeared that night. I've been getting calls about him not going to work, and he won't pick up at all. Have you seen him lately?"
Crimson eyes widened. Red froze.
/
"Mount Silver?"
Emerald eyes reflecting crimson. A wild grin.
"Sounds fun. When do you want to go? Maybe this weekend or…"
"I know it's for training. But I have to open the gym everyday, right?"
A laugh.
"I don't think the trainers would let me do that. Even if I tell them I'm going with you."
A gentle kiss on the jawline.
"Well, let's go on the weekend then."
But he really didn't – no, he couldn't - wait that long.
A fist slamming into the wall. A voice of anger.
"I thought we were going on the weekend."
"How can you not wait? It's three days. And we can stay there for longer now that I told everyone I'm going already."
A pained sigh.
"Think this through. You're going to be there by yourself if you go now, but I already said that I wanted to go with you."
Arms around him.
"Don't go."
I'm sorry.
/
The raven shook his head before gently prying his mother off him. He rushed down the stairs, picking up his belongings which were all sitting in the living room. Pikachu looked energetic, meaning everyone else must have recharged by then. The professor and his mother followed him to the door, where Red was pulling on his shoes, a bag by his side.
"Where're you going, Red?" His mother asked worriedly.
Red opened his mouth to speak, but he still couldn't find his voice. The professor smiled and nodded knowingly. "Have a safe trip; I know you'll find him."
Red's mother simply shifted her gaze between the two of them quizzically, turning to the professor as she watched her son walk out the door, hoping for an answer.
She hadn't caught the words, but the professor had seen it clearly. He could see it in Red's words and in his eyes.
/
It was short; it was sudden; it was more of a demand than a request.
Emerald eyes widened in shock. A sharp intake of breath followed by a choking cough. He swiftly returned the green mug in his hand onto the table while trying to clear the coffee from his throat; managing to sputter out a couple words through his coughing fit.
"You want to… me … What?"
Emerald reflected in crimson; crimson shining in emerald. A long silence, save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Gentle sunlight streaming in through the gaps of the curtains, casting soft glowing streaks on the almost golden wood floor.
Silence.
A deep breath; a long sigh.
Emeralds grow closer. A hand reaching closer, unsure of the consequences of touch. Black fingerless-gloved hands move over those bare, bringing cool fingertips to meet warm skin by the neck.
A beating pulse. Beating strong; beating fast. His own usual quietness doesn't mask his anxiety; his anticipation. Nor does his face, a light flush creeping over his pale skin. He tries to look away, but emeralds catch it nonetheless.
A smile; a soft chuckle.
Warmth.
/
Viridian City was within a half-day's travel. A fairly short route of steppes and trees, Red breezed through the path, seemingly in a daze. He had traveled through the roads so many times before, anyway. However, this time was slightly different.
He did not stop to stare at the trees, or lie in the grass to stare at the clouds like he would have done almost every time before. He was never really in a rush then to get to Viridian, since he was always waiting. But this time, he really wanted to get there as soon as possible.
There were four trainers on the route today, but none of them approached him – they were busily preoccupied in battling each other, after all. A Pidgeot; a Jynx. An Alakazam; an Ivysaur.
Red cast them a quick glance and moved on.
Before long, an expanse of evergreen trees and emerald roofs was spread before the raven haired trainer. Pikachu hopped off his shoulder and darted towards the right, turning around every so often to make sure his master was following.
The little mouse stopped in front of a familiar building Red remembered as "the apartment". Red nodded and pulled one of the doors open, letting himself inside; Pikachu climbing back to his shoulder as he did so.
The elevator opened with a soft "ding" as the doors opened before him, seemingly welcoming the trainer, who stepped in tentatively. He stared at the lines of buttons on the side panel, unsure which to press. Luckily, a flash of yellow shot out from his shoulder, lighting up one of the numbers. The doors closed.
A vaguely familiar sensation of lift welcomed the raven accompanied with the soft hum of machinery.
The elevator opened on the eighth floor. After a brief glance around, Red stepped out. Down the hallway. 842.
A gloved hand reached into his bag, pulling out a trio of keys, clinking together as they were freed from their containment. Fingers glazed over them lightly.
There was a red key, for his own home. It was the first key he had ever been given, from the first day he had left home to become a pokemon trainer. He was still a child then, but was delighted to be able to hold something so important and special.
A blue-violet one for the Indigo Plateau. He was given it when he became the champion, so he would be able to come and go as he pleased. But it was no longer of any use to him, after all, Lance was the champion now. He doubted that the key would still work, after all this time.
Finally, an emerald key. Red stared at it for a brief moment before unlocking the door.
A familiar scene welcomed him – a scene he had seen almost daily every day before he had left for the mountain.
Sunlight filtering through the half-covered windows onto the golden-blond floors. A white sofa with a dark brown coffee table. Two mugs – one red and one green sitting on it, empty.
Other than the furniture, the place was empty – gone were the photos, the books and the belongings.
Red turned to the bedroom. The bed was still there, the pillows gone. A light, but warm blanket covered the bed. He the checked the closets. Empty. The drawers. Empty.
The bathroom, the kitchen. Everything that used to be there was gone. The refrigerator and the pantry storing nothing in its shelves. Apart from the mugs. Everything had disappeared. The crimson-eyed trainer searched throughout the entire house, and before he knew it, the sun had begun to set. Red lay spread out on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
His stomach growled. He sat up, frowning. Usually he would just walk into the kitchen to make himself something, but house was empty, so there was nothing to eat. He'd have to go out.
It won't be for long, he assured himself. Maybe just something from the mart, and he could eat it when he got back.
The door clicked as he shut it behind him, locking automatically. Back down the elevator and out the door. Down the street and into the mart. Something small and light to eat. Cash –from his mother- paid, receive change. Red walked out the doors, food in hand without saying a word. Not now. Not yet.
Back to the apartment, the teen stopped in front of the mailboxes. He had remembered when envelopes and other pieces of paper used to stick out of the metal case – he was able to get them out with the key.
But there was nothing. Red shook his head as he closed the box, and returned to the elevator. Back up to 842.
As he opened the door this time though, he heard a door open from beside him. A man in his mid twenties stared at him quizzically.
"You… new here?" he finally asked after looking the trainer up and down.
Red stared at the man, unsure of how to answer. After a long pause, he shook his head.
"Oh? Is that so. I've never seen you around here before." The man glanced at him, receiving a puzzled look in return. "Well, I mean, the guy who used to live here moved to the gym a while back, so no one's been here since so…" he paused, taking a breath before he continued, "I figured someone else would move in instead. No?"
'Gym?'
'No one?'
Red shook his head again. The man seemed to have caught onto his silent query though, and nodded in reply. "Yeah. He used to come back really late at night when he was still around. Seems like he moved all his stuff out, when was it, a couple months ago? Hasn't been back since."
Another pause.
"Ah, but if you're looking for him, he's not around right now. We're not actually sure where he is, but the fact that he's still gone is starting to become a problem. With the gym and such, y'know? If you know where he is and can get him to come back, that'd be great."
Red stared blankly at the man before nodding slowly. He walked through the doorway of room 842 and closed it behind him. The door clicked shut.
Dinner alone at the table. The barely audible buzz of fluorescent lights in the kitchen was the only sound present in the entire apartment.
Kitchen lights off. Into the living room. Continue into the bedroom, onto the bed he had been in many times before.
Red sat cross legged on the bed, the blanket draped around his shoulders. He probably looked more like a hermit here in this room than up in the mountains, he thought, but it would be all right.
His mind drifted. The memories of the tangerine and lilac skies, the crisp chill of the early mornings and the orange-fire glow of late nights.
The soft drifts and heavy clusters of snow. The impenetrable frost which surrounded him, turning his mountain world into almost a fantasy.
But still, he thought, having a place to return to, this is nice too. He pulled the blanket around him tighter. Warmth and silence enveloped him. Aside from the ticking of the clock, the apartment was quiet.
Red glanced at the clock; it was really getting late. Perhaps it was about time to go.
Shuffling around until the blanket would not touch the floor when he stood, the raven and his Pikachu left the room.
The stars gazed down from their perch, surrounded by a wall of evergreen. Red leaned against a wall, still wrapped in the blanket, Pikachu curled up on his lap, black-tipped ears poking out of the soft covers.
Crimson eyes stared up into the sky, blinking slowly. He had forgotten that such a sight could be seen, even here. He had forgotten how much he had really left behind.
Had it really been worth it? Was it the right thing to do?
He recalled the moment he had decided to leave. Perhaps at that moment, it was. Anything to get away, anything to free himself from the world he had been thrust into – one of expectations and demands. He just wanted to live the way he liked.
And really, he thought, perhaps his life really wasn't that bad compared to his. Red recalled all the days where he –already an early riser- would wake and he would already be up, and all the dimly-lit nights he spent researching for the professor.
Still, he would smile and suggest a day to go to the forest, or to the beach. Sometimes, especially in the spring, they would even go to the Safari.
Red's vision grew warm and hazy. He had… they had… done so much together. Red had refused to spend his nights at the Indigo Plateau, so he had given him a place to stay. Breakfast would always be on the table when he woke up, and dinner when he returned. Always home-cooked.
And he would be sitting at the table, or on the sofa, green mug in hand.
Red mug on the table.
The trainer took a deep breath, exhaling with a faint puff of smoke.
He had traveled so much and for so long, learning about the world he was then in and wanted to be away from. Was it possible to get away from it all? If so, how?
No. The world was perfect as long as he was there, he concluded to himself. He… was his world.
Yet still, though he returned to Viridian after his long search, he still pushed the world away. After all, he was still gone. And so was his world.
He would sit here and wait until it returned. However long it took. After all, his world had waited for him. Waited. And waited. And waited.
He shook his head and shut his crimson eyes, trying to work out what things he wanted- no, needed to say to that world. Slowly, silently. The words came, but without sound.
I'm… sorry.
I… should have known. You… were… you are… so important… to me.
Apologies. Confessions. Things that should have been said years ago but weren't. They all streamed silently from his lips. His mind flowed with words, with things he desperately wanted to say; desperately wanted him to hear.
But still, he noticed, silence.
Had his self-approved isolation really affected himself so much - so much his voice refused to resonate? He tried again.
"... sor...ry.."
".. lease… for…"
"...lease…co... back…"
From each sentence he tried to say, he heard a voice more and more. Until finally...
"I… miss… you..."
He'd done it.
The voice was weak, quiet, and unfamiliar to him. It wavered and cracked from years of uselessness, but he could tell it was his own.
He sighed, head tipped back against the wall, eyes opening slowly to gaze up again at the sky. But he didn't see that.
Instead, a pair of bright emeralds stared down at him.
Forgotten World