He is eight when he gives his heart to her, and nine when he realizes she has no more heart to give, after he watches it break at the sight of her mother's tears instead of healing at the sight of his own.
Her parents' divorce changes her. At first, it's little things: waiting by the edge of town instead of on her porch before school, going on long walks after dark, not having so much time to play and spend time on Route 1. But over time she's grown quieted, hushed, as though her mind has become one big secret. Their classmates don't notice, but they wouldn't — they don't know her like he does. They grew up together, practically lived together. He knows Leaf, and this muted façade isn't her.
Green has become so used to reading her, hearing her, knowing everything that goes on in her head, that the sudden silence feels like a wall has been built between them. The cutoff is like a slap to the face.
They still walk to school together — still bake cookies at his house on Fridays, watch cartoons on Saturdays, and explore Route 1 and practice battling with Growlithe on Sundays. She's still exceptional, in school and the field; but she pores over tomes and algorithms, ledgers and numbers, where he does not.
(She balances checkbooks, where he does not.
His grandfather says it's a crime. He says it's too much. Neither of them say it to her.)
Leaf's father moves further north to Pewter after much assurance from her that she will be fine and he doesn't have to worry; he finds work at the museum.
(The day after her father is gone, Green finds himself holding her together at the edges as she cries in his room, Growlithe whimpering on her lap. She climbed in through the window; her mother bangs on her bedroom door not twenty feet away, screaming and weeping, and Green doesn't ask what for.
Come early Monday morning, he's fallen asleep and his window is open, a blanket thrown over him with a hastily scribbled note on his nightstand. Leaf is gone, Growlithe curled into his side. He feels a little empty, knowing she didn't choose to stay.
Didn't want to wake him, her scrappy print reads. Or you. See you at 7.)
a/n eyoo and so it begins