AN: This really is not a light read. Massive angst and character death. If you are at all triggered by self-harm/injury, I also wouldn't read. It's depressing. Also, mild sexual content and RedxGreen romance. Also, it has some really fucking strong language. ;) The italicized portions go in reverse chronological order. ...Oh, and read carefully. I was very subtle with a few things, so you might miss 'em if you're not careful. Sorry in advance - this is pretty rough and I really could have done a lot better. Oh, well. Enjoy?

There were two birds sat on a stone.

–

The room was warm, but the world was cold.

That was all Green could think as he numbly thumbed through a magazine tabloid, staring past the pictures, past the room and letting his attention flicker with the humming and blinking of the florescent lighting.

His jaw was numb, his tongue was heavy, and his limbs quivered with unease. His heart was racing, but for how much he sweat and shook, he struggled to feel anything. His dread was like the humming of cheap lights – droning and flickering, and something outside of him he couldn't control.

"Green?"

He didn't force a smile when the investigator walked into the room. Neither did she. He stood up, legs still quivering, hands clammy and god he felt so cold.

"We've talked before. I'm Tabitha," she began, and then she held out her hand for Green to take.

"Yeah, I remember," Green murmured in response as he shook her hand and god her hands were warm.

She nodded, holding onto his hand a little longer than she needed to (everybody pitied him). "Are you ready?"

No god how could I ever be ready-

"Yeah."

She gave him another nod and turned around to face the opposite wall (the one that had been closing in on him all his life). "Follow me."

He didn't think he could walk, but his legs carried him, shaky and unstable, but standing.

Sometimes the only thing that makes sense is to just move forward.

His footsteps echoed down empty, industrial-like halls, and while the sounds of the comings-and-goings of investigators and technicians kept him from finding his surroundings cold or eerie, nothing within the walls around him felt alive.

What a depressing place.

Tabitha stopped at a large set of double-doors, pausing to dig in the pockets of her short blue skirt. Her hand emerged with a small card key, and Green barely saw her swipe it before returning it to her pocket. The doors swung open and Green saw the sign, Authorized Personnel Only, and for some reason it made him shudder, so he looked away from the sign and followed the woman. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and his heart leapt in his chest as the doors fell back into their respective frames with a sound that felt very intrusive and jarring in the somber hallways.

"The doors are a little loud," Tabitha said.

"Ah," Green answered simply. He didn't want to talk, but Tabitha wanted to remind him he wasn't alone. Give him a voice to hear. He knew because that's what people had always been doing for him, from street vendors in Saffron to Janine's Pokémon to people who he'd never even seen before, because he was Professor Oak's Grandson and An Orphan (the poor child).

It was quieter here, and Green's mind filled in the silence with the awful sort of emptiness that fills rather than empties. His chest tightened and it made breathing in the smell of plastic tubing and floor cleaner and sickly-sweet something that much harder. It brought back memories of long days spent at Centers and in waiting rooms, senses assaulted by all that was clean and sickly and bitter. He didn't, however, feel any particular distress or contempt at his surroundings, because he couldn't feel anything like dislike or hate and those feelings were just memories right now. The silence itself seemed looming and bit him raw, but the silence was only something more than silence because the halls were silent but the world was so awfully, terribly loud.

He was trying to distract himself – too well. His surroundings were cold and metal and cleaner than ever when Tabitha stopped in front of him, and he knew he should be preparing himself and thinking and not observing. Had the longest trip of his life really been so short?

Tabitha hesitated, turning to Green, tilting her head before smoothing her palms on her skirt. "Do you need a moment?"

His shoulders tensed, and his eyes darted from the chromed door to the ceiling to his own sweaty palms. He was painfully aware of his own heartbeat throbbing in his ears and ringing more like cold metal than flesh and warmth. "No."

He didn't see her turn around and open the door because he wasn't looking at her and didn't want to, but he looked up before entering the room, eyes once again darting from side to side, evaluating, tensing, readying himself.

He was in. The door clicked shut behind him, and the woman in blue stopped to watch him.

There was a room around him with solid, unyielding walls too close together to possibly hold him in, and he had the sensation that, not unlike his own mind, they'd soon burst, and him along with them. He swallowed, he focused on the vivid spots dancing in his vision and the ringing in his ears and the incredible sensation that there was no floor beneath his feet.

He would not be sick.

Tabitha motioned for him the table where the body lay, because he refused to look for it and denied its existence from the moment he stepped in the room, as though hoping another door would lead him down another silent hallway.

Cold washed over him, no longer biting and gnawing at him but overtaking him entirely.

He couldn't even swallow.

As he approached the (cold, chrome, metal) table, he had no thoughts, no dread, nothing more than the focus he had for the task of making sure his feet carried him over.

Laid out on its back, eyes closed, arms at its side, legs together, it looked like just a dead body. It didn't look asleep, or like it'd ever been alive. Its skin was pulled tight against its features, naked, lips pulled back, jaw tight, hands curled and claw-like.

And there wasn't a room that was warm and a world that was cold, or a hall that was silent and a world that was loud, or any need for distractions or denial, because the world stopped here and everything he'd done had been to bring him to this point. He was here now. The anxieties of getting here were over.

There was just a dead boy.

He stepped closer, almost unconsciously, almost able to ignore the stench and presence of death that so suddenly assaulted his senses with things living people aren't meant to process with any sort of peace, and he peered down at the face.

The body was decomposing – he'd known this beforehand because they'd needed him to come identify an individual whose likeness was widely known. Areas of the body were dark with rot, skin thin and threatening to leak flesh onto the too-clean table, while others were pale with death, visibly cold and stiff. The flesh was torn, both from whatever had killed it, and whatever had been lucky enough to find a free meal in the fresh corpse. None of this disturbed him, because it was just a dead body and this was what happened to everyone when they died. But no, he didn't want to be seeing this. Because this should not have happened. Not to his body.

His face was untouched, but Green could see why no one could be sure of his identity. Did he really need to give Tabitha a verbal confirmation? He didn't think so. But then he didn't think anything else, because his fingers were reaching out to touch his hair, fingertips trembling as he brushed the dark strands back from what had once been an incredibly beautiful face.

He opened his mouth to speak – just to get this over with. When nothing came out, he cleared his throat and tried again, not caring that his tongue was too heavy or his throat too tight.

"This is him."

Red.

He didn't know how Tabitha responded, and he didn't really care. He'd known the moment he received the call he'd fine Red here. He'd known despite Red always being gone for weeks or months on end, and he'd known despite unidentified, black-haired Trainers being found dead in the wilderness and in need of identification many times before this. Never once did he have more than the fear of losing Red. Not until he'd woken up and the world felt cold.

He was still stroking his hair. God, it was so soft... His fingertips rested on the freezing skin of his cheek, and slowly, lovingly, he ran the pad of his thumb over it. The flesh didn't give at all, and the skin didn't move, as though the boy he loved so much was suddenly made of stone.

He wasn't supposed to do this – was supposed to say it was who it was and then leave. But he wasn't thinking that.

He shuddered slightly, breathing in enough to fill his aching lungs, reflexively gagging at the smell of death. He bowed his head, hand shaking too much for him to keep touching. "God, Red..."

He tried again, trembling fingertips tracing cold skin to his neck. Of course they'd asked him to identify Red... Whether they approved or not, everyone knew he was so familiar with Red's body. Was it ironic that that was all that was left, or was he overthinking what was no more than an inevitability? People learn to love people and recognize their likeness anywhere, but when they die and suddenly it's just a body they're so, so unfamiliar with it.

The tension was gone completely and his shoulders slumped, his legs threatening to crumble beneath him entirely. "You look awful, you know that? You've gotten yourself into the worst mess you could have, you stupid... You idiot... How can I love your dumb ass so much?"

He would have loved some delusion, some hallucination, some phantom voice answering him, but the cold echo of his own voice and then silence answered him well enough.

The touches continued, light, careful, and loving. "You died on me, baby... You're really going to just leave me like this. And you called me an asshole."

Him. His mother. Friends. His best friends, his Pokemon – the ones that had been stolen from his belt and likely sold to some sick fuck. Red had died with nothing, had the greatest things to ever happen to him taken off his dead body. He'd died alone, and his death hadn't likely been only his own. God, his Pokémon...

He leaned in so close he could almost taste rot on his tongue, and gently, slowly, pressed his lips to Red's forehead. Tabitha slowly approached from behind, looking him over, alerting him to her approach. "Whenever you're ready, I'll escort you out."

He tried to snort, but his breath caught in his throat and he almost choked. He felt his hands tense. She was trying to tell him he wasn't allowed to be here.

"Sure."

He let out a shaky breath, disgusted with himself for lacks of things to say or feel. Because the world was empty and so was he.

Green leaned in close once more, shoving away his knowledge of how the mouth was the first thing to rot, holding his breath before pressing his lips to Red's. He pushed back his (so soft) hair then took a moment to whisper something in his ear.

When he looked back up, Tabitha nodded at him, and, seasoned and jaded from years of work, still couldn't hide her unmistakably sympathetic expression. "If you're ready."

He wanted to say he left the room without looking back, but while he left he watched Red's body as surely as he felt it must have been watching him.

"...And you don't even have to say anything for me to know," he whispered before the door shut

–

"You're leaving?"

"For how long?"

"Tch, yeah, it was stupid of me to ask. Guess the boyfriend waiting at home can't hope to know when you'll be back, huh?"

"Aww, hey, I didn't mean it like that. Quit messin' with me. Of course I'll be here. Just be careful, call me, call your mom, and remember to drink enough."

"...Wait, Red!"

Kiss.

"...Just... I love you, okay?"

Kiss. Kiss. Nod.

"I mean, a lot-"

"I know you know. I'm just saying. It's a good thing to say."

"Tch, no, that wasn't a hint. You can't take hints, for one, and number two, why would I need to hint for you to say you love me? Even if you're taking a break from being the chatty gossip you are, you always tell me. I know you love me."

"Jeez, Red... You don't have to practically propose to me." Sigh. "...Yeah, you know you're the whole world to me. So be good, call often, have fun, and don't break my fragile little heart, okay?"

Nod. Kiss. Smile. "Goodbye, Green."

Because it really was goodbye.

–

When Green got home, Daisy and his grandfather were already in the kitchen, waiting. They knew.

He looked down, avoiding looking at them entirely and focused ahead, following his feet to the same old wooden stairs he'd been climbing all his life. Everything around him – the familiar paintings and furniture, the walls, the old clock with the loose hand – seemed intangible, as though he were seeing it through someone else's eyes. His grandfather said something – underwater, distorted sounds he didn't care about.

When his feet could no longer carry him, he found himself stopped in his kitchen, and he gave a heavy, angry sigh because he really did just want to be left alone to sleep or check his PC.

He sat down opposite Daisy, who was saying something else to him – he didn't know. And then, as she pointed it out, he found himself drawn to another person in the room.

He hadn't noticed before, but she sat on the small sofa near the television set, thin hands wringing the handkerchief she held, black hair falling out of a messy bun, face red and puffy from crying. Green knew that look, because in his young life, he'd cried enough times to know how it was when someone had cried themselves so hard that they couldn't cry anymore.

He turned his head back to face his grandfather, and closed his eyes, because if he focused on only one thing, maybe he could listen.

"...came over here after the investigators called us. His father is coming over shortly. Right now, we just want to give ourselves time to grieve and lay Red to rest before we continue the investigation."

Green nodded, though he didn't agree. "...We can't just sit around crying over him. Red wouldn't want that. We need to find out what happened and where his Pokémon are."

His eyes were still closed, but he knew his grandfather must have been uneasy with his casual tone.

"Green, please. This is an emotionally trying time for all of us. Right now, a lot is going on for you, but the best thing you can do for yourself is to give yourself the time and space to grieve. Red would want what's best for you, not for you to overdo yourself."

He felt his fingers curl into fists at his sides. "No! I'm not just going to sit around and cry while his Pokémon are still out there! And if some sick fuck murdered him, I'm finding them and killing them myself! He cared so much about his Pokémon, and you're going to honor his memory by sitting around crying instead of trying to help?"

Green turned on his heel and headed for the staircase. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, and he grit his teeth, stomping up the stairs and slamming his door behind him.

He laughed without humor. He was already talking about Red in the past tense. Red hadn't been time or place that had happened – Red was a person, and he still lived on, dammit! Who the hell did he think he was, talking about his own friend like that? Stupid!

He swung out at the nearby bookshelf and cursed loudly before just shoving it over and spouting whatever obscenities came to mind. He reached up at a shelf for the glass Ribbon case he still needed to fill and threw it at the ground. When it didn't shatter, he snarled. Was even a fucking piece of glass making fun of how weak he was? He turned, and, using every thing he'd ever learned about throwing a good kick, thrust his foot into it and delighted in the satisfying sound it gave when the glass cracked and broke into a million pieces at his boot. Deciding that wasn't enough, he stomped down on it until he'd reduced a few shards to little more than dust, then, for good measure, threw one of the many scattered textbooks at the remains.

He snarled again before turning to the wall and punching with all his might. To his surprise, the drywall broke under the force of his blow just as his finger did. He screamed and withdrew his hand, clutching it to his chest. He flexed his hand, wiggling it, and new, hot jabs of pain scorched down it. Somehow, it not being broken wasn't much of a relief.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-!"

He turned and kicked the wall, too, but his boot merely bounced off of it, leaving only a small scuff mark. Green roared in frustration and thrust his middle finger up. Fucking wall!

With little else to take his rage out on, he reached down and picked a textbook up off the ground – the same one he'd just thrown. What the hell did his family think? Who the fuck had the right to take Red's Pokémon? Who dared to kill the single greatest person to ever live in a world that didn't even deserve him? Was that it? Was Red just too good to live!

The pages tore out easily – too easily. There wasn't enough of a fight. Green needed a fight. Not a battle, but a full-on, human-to-human fistfight. There had to be someone who'd fight back, throw a few punches in his face, give him the thrill of victory as he beat the shit out of them.

He needed something living – something flesh and blood to just hurt. Someone who deserved it. With no one around and no desire to take it out on the innocent, Green reached down for a shard of the broken glass and sat on the ground near the mess of books and magazines that had spilled out of the overturned shelf.

He tested the edge on the pad of his finger and gently squeezed the injured flesh. In mere moments, bright red beads leaked from the incision, then ran together into one wet blur of blood down his fingertip. It was sharp enough.

Without another thought, he shoved up the sleeve of his jacket and took a good look at the bare skin of his forearm. There were a few tiny, superficial scars from the last time he'd done this – three years ago, when he'd been fourteen and stupid enough to think his problems were somehow worse than everyone else's and had only wanted attention. That was right – he was a living human who deserved to hurt, too, and if he couldn't beat the shit out of whoever stole off of Red, he had himself, who, even worse, couldn't even protect Red.

The edge was sharper than he thought, and cut even and clean into his skin. So sharp that it took a few seconds for the blood to appear. He grimaced to himself – it stung. It didn't hurt the way smashing his fist into the wall had, but just stung with a sharp, panging, urgent sort of pain. He examined the cut, unsatisfied. Not enough blood, not fast enough. He swiped harder, and this time the blood was immediate, and so was the sting. Good enough. He sliced up and down his wrist, reveling in the rush as he watched the clean skin break and turn red with irritation. When that wasn't enough, either, he stopped making small, precise cuts and slashed long, curved lines down his forearm.

The glass by his feet was reflective enough were he could see the perfect skin of his face and neck, and he scowled even further at his reflection. He could easily hide the cuts on his arms, but he didn't deserve that. He wanted something visible, something he couldn't hide from Gramps and Daisy, because he deserved all of that. He was already going to upset them, so why not?

He raised the glass to his cheek, but then dropped it with an angry sigh. He was losing his steam, he decided. He couldn't keep this up.

Green glanced back down at his injured forearm, which no longer stung pleasantly but throbbed and ached. There wasn't nearly as much blood as he'd expected. Though, as he knew from his last experience, cuts made with a sharp implement bled a lot. He cursed again and pulled off his jacket. It was too big to make a good tourniquet, but it worked, and he could still press the rest of the material against the wounds and try to stanch the blood.

Cradling his injured arm to his chest, he looked for something else to break, and decided on a mug by his bed. He reached for it, then stopped as he remembered Red once drank from that same mug. He laughed to himself. When had that been? Three months ago? Couldn't he give up anything having to do with Red? Was he also going to dig the used condoms out of the trash and keep them?

He gave a heavy sigh before collapsing into bed, lightheaded with sudden exhaustion. "Damn it..."

As soon as he'd fallen into bed, he was jumping out of it, because his bedding still – still – smelled like Red. And he couldn't soil that, not when Red was gone so often...

Then he remembered – Red was dead. He was never coming back. Ever. Green rolled his eyes. "Fucking stupid."

He curled up on the carpet beside his bed, resting his head on his arm, and he tried to ignore the sound of Red's mother wailing in agonized grief while sleep brought him to a happier time.

–

The morning sun cast striped shadows on them through open blinds and the chirping and chattering of Pidgey and Ledyba brought in the end of dawn, bringing in the beginning of morning while the world around them began to awaken, but with Red still asleep in his arms, morning felt more like a time of peaceful reflection than time to begin the day. A day preceded by this couldn't end up being a bad one, after all.

Sheets clung to the both of them, damp and a little unpleasant. Their skin stuck together where they'd been touching and there was just so much sweat. He'd come to expect as much whenever he spent the night wrapped around Red like this, buried under mountains of sheets, but he couldn't care less because they'd been together and seen too many mornings to be put off by things they were all too used to. Red, sleepy and sweaty and marvelous, fascinated him as much as Red awake, groomed, and dressed to stun. Green could never tell the sleeping Red from the awake Red without looking him in the face, and when Red's eyes were open, he didn't move from where he lay against Green, face blank as though he were still dreaming.

Eventually, Green gave him a sleepy little smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "'Morning."

Red yawned a little in response before shrugging the sheets off his back, and Green swallowed as the Champion's skin was bathed in morning sunshine. Red saw the eyes on him and gave him an uncommon, tired smile. He stretched and adjusted himself before settling back down, the sheet now crumpled around his lower back.

He loved seeing Red in the morning, when he was just coming to. Maybe because it wasn't something anyone else ever got to see. Just for him. Green smiled again, then raised a hand to brush almost obscenely unkempt hair away from Red's sleepy face. The other smiled back at him, and so Green let his fingers trail down to Red's jaw, then closed his eyes as he felt Red almost automatically lean in to kiss him.

Morning breath. They didn't care, and they never had. He laughed, even though it wasn't funny, and Red laughed a little, too, and he could hardly even kiss the other boy because he was so happy. The first rays of light were stronger now, outlining the features of Red's rather boyish face and making his untidy hair look more brown than black, and his eyes look colored more like mahogany than their usual maroon. Unable to help himself, Green leaned in to kissed to again, too caught up in early bliss and the pleasant, heavy warmth that lingered in his stomach and made his limbs tingle.

Red laughed again, and Green rolled his eyes before pulling the other boy closer, letting Red hold him warm against his chest. "Moron."

Red just kept smiling, and his rare, true smiles were so beautiful that all over again Green, casual and cocky, couldn't even act like himself. Banishing his usual snark to some unseen region of his psyche, he ran his hands over the contour of Red's side, making the Champion sigh and lean in to kiss Green's neck. Skin still damp with sweat and unadjusted to the cooler morning air, it was easy to make Red shiver, and even easier to follow the trail of goosebumps down his spine. The first rays of sunrise were always soft but still saturated with rising colors they wouldn't see again until dusk. In a room basked in warm orange hues, sleepy, warm, and bare before him, Red had never looked so magnificent.

The fuzzy warmth of the waking world must have projected its state of being onto Green's mind, as he could only sigh in perfect contentment, because Red had been his for years now, he always would be and just who wouldn't be happy and

"Good morning," Red whispered softly before lowing his head to continue gently worrying a patch of skin between his lips.

–

Sure enough, the next morning, he was sheepishly pulling back his sleeve and showing his handiwork to his grandfather.

Professor Oak just sighed, glancing over his grandson's injured forearm with watery, red-rimmed eyes.

Green longed for him to say something – how disappointed he was, that he was worried, that that wasn't a smart thing to do... Anything. But the blank, open-mouthed look his grandfather gave him was worth more than words, and, like the coward he was, Green looked away, just like a child who'd misbehaved.

"Green..." he began, voice cracking slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, Green saw his grandfather's large hand reach towards him, but then the hand fell, and Green's heart sank with it.

I think I want to be touched right now. Why aren't you holding my shoulder like you used to? Are you disgusted with me, too? Am I not important now that Red's gone?

Green just shrugged, then swallowed, shrinking into himself while rolling his sleeve down. "...What did you need me for?"

Oak cleared his throat, sitting up in his chair a little straighter. "We – Red's mother, myself, the kids from Johto, Daisy, Leaf, Misty, Erika, and a few other Leaders – need your help planning his memorial service. I know it's a little soon and it still hasn't sunk in, but..."

Except you don't "know" anything.

Green shrugged again, readying himself to stand up. "Yeah, I can help. Write a eulogy, tell you what he would have wanted. No problem."

His grandfather cleared his throat again, and, out of reflexive courtesy, Green sat back down. Oak's lips pressed into a this line, and he hesitated, pausing to choose his words carefully.

"...I know I should have said this much sooner, but you were always adamant about keeping your personal life personal, but I've been wanting to tell you that despite a lot of what happened early on, I've always supported your relationship with Red. You two have done each other a world of good. There's no way I couldn't be happy for both of you."

Oak paused again, and when Green didn't say anything, he continued. "...And I may be old, but I'm not old-fashioned. I saw your blog, and I just wanted to clarify that whatever gender your chosen partner may be, I've never had anything against the fact that you and Red are both male. Very few people would, in this day and age, but I'm sorry if I made you think that. His mother and I were just a little uncomfortable that the two of you were so young when you started being intimate – that's all."

Green swallowed, trying not to think about it, because if he did, it meant realizing that, for no reason, he'd held something against a grandfather who loved him, and that because he'd been a selfish, arrogant brat, he was hearing this from his grandfather too late. Red was dead. He couldn't be happy about openly showing just how proud he was of Red.

So he didn't think about it, because the world was cold and things that made it too hot, too painful, or too intense weren't welcome. He nodded, again swallowing the lump he still couldn't swallow. "Okay."

The chair made a harsh sound as it dragged on the linoleum, and Green winced mid-run. His legs, still as shaky as they'd been yesterday, carried him back outside. He couldn't shut the door behind him. That was too final, when part of him wanted to be followed.

Pallet Town was any number of things – peaceful, scenic, quiet, floral, rustic, charming, quaint, small, tranquil, pure. Those were the words Green remembered hearing and remembered describing. Right now, the town around him didn't seem like anything. Scenery. Colors, sounds, and feelings. Despite just how heavy a burden he now carried, he still couldn't feel. Not nostalgia, not grief, not peace – nothing.

Shoulders tense and head up straight, he strode at an easy, quick pace, more to cover the distance than to get anywhere in particular. Not that a walk would do him any good – he couldn't feel better when there wasn't much to feel.

"Nice day, isn't it, Red?"

He looked up, hopeful that, somehow, his friend could hear him.

"...Yeah, I don't really give a shit, do I? I've never been one to stop and appreciate the scenery. It's all about what's going on, and this town's a boring dump. Heh. You were always mad at me for not being able to appreciate how peaceful it is here, but I guess that was just one of the many differences we had that make me love you so much."

Houses passed him, and he was distantly aware of the muffled, underwater sounds of kids shouting and playing outside. Wild Pokémon never ventured this far into town, but the cries of a few beloved pets were apparent. It must have actually been a nice day, if people were out in town like this.

"Even you always told me it wasn't much, but it's home, huh? I'd probably miss it if we ever left. ...Funny to think about, since I don't even miss you yet."

He was further down now, and the sounds of the comings-and-goings of the townsfolk were fast fading behind him. He wasn't far from the shore now, and he was vaguely aware of the rustle of tall grass and the unmistakable calls of wild Tangela.

When he had nowhere further to go and there was water at his feet, Green sat down at the sandy shore, relieved to be alone. He didn't have his Pokémon with him, and he didn't care. It was extremely rare for the wilds to venture this far from their chosen habitat, and even if it weren't, he just couldn't care.

"I guess I'm so used to you being gone all the time, it's like you're just going to show up one day. I know you won't, but I guess I don't really know. Don't know how to feel, either. One moment I'm ready to cry over your corpse, and the next, I'm just existing. Not really... Anything. Heh. It's not really too different, is it? This conversation. ...You used to never talk when I talked to you. 'Til we got to know each other. Then you just didn't shut up. I guess that was all right, though. I love your voice."

Green sighed, then frowned at the feel of sand in his palm. Looking down, he realized he'd been combing his fingers through the sandy ground. How absentminded.

"Gramps is probably worried I'm going to get all suicidal, but what's the point in offing myself? I'm about as dead right now as I would be then, anyways. You should see me. I haven't slept since... Well, it's been a few weeks. I get about a couple hours a night. You'd think I'd get tired, but after so long without sleep, I don't even feel it anymore. You know how that is, huh, buddy?"

Eventually, Green was back in his living room without remembering how he'd gotten there. He blinked. Had he completely imagined his entire walk?

He sighed again, then leaned back into the couch cushions. He must have fallen asleep here.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the soft, mechanical noises of the clock with the loose hand and the whirr of the refrigerator. He could hear his grandfather's footsteps nearby, and he knew he had to get up and help with... Whatever.

Instead, he bolted back up to his room and grabbed his backpack. Frenzied, he scattered his belongings and threw whatever he had to into his pack. His Pokémon were still where he left them, in their Balls at his bedside.

"Crap! Where the hell is my wallet?" The drawer fell out onto the ground when Green pulled a little too hard, and, right away, we was digging through the contents. He let it go for a moment to reach up and attach his Pokémon to his belt. His best team – Umbreon, Heracross, Alakazam, Machamp, Gyarados, and Tyranitaur. His best friends. He sighed rather shakily, pausing his frenzy to run his thumb over a well-worn Poké Ball. It had taken him a while to learn just how important his Pokémon were as friends, and his mistakes had only strengthened his resolve to be the best Trainer he could – for their sake, as well as his.

He threw his chosen Ball out, and the sphere burst open with a flash of light before freeing the Pokémon inside.

Umbreon concernedly looked over his Trainer, ears drooping.

"...Sorry, buddy. I meant to let you out earlier, but to say 'shit happened' would be an understatement. ...Anyways, I guess you know what's going on. You remember your pal, Espeon?"

The Pokémon's ears perked up at once, and Umbreon's gaze immediately hardened. Umbreon stood erect, head held high, posture showing off his beautiful, muscular frame.

"...That's right. We're on a mission to get him back. And all of our other friends. Once we do, we'll be all right."

"Vui!" Umbreon barked in agreement. Green couldn't miss the sadness in the way Umbreon looked at him, or the grief his friend felt at their loss, but...

Green leaned down on his knee, extending his hand to pet Umbreon's thin, needle-like fur. "We've got to get those guys back here safely. That's what Red would want. We can't let our emotions get in the way."

Umbreon gently nudged his head into Green's palm, nuzzling it. "...Bre."

He stood back up and resumed hurriedly packing his bag. He couldn't pack light this time – he wasn't coming back until he had everything of Red's securely with him.

"Let's go."

–

Green had been nervous about telling anyone about their relationship. While he and Red were fifteen – more than old enough to make an informed decision, there was a lot that made things complicated. For one, they'd grown up together, and it'd be awkward for their families. For another, the two of them had been sworn enemies for a few years, and those around them were still getting used to the fact that they were best friends. And, well... They were both guys. Not a big deal, he supposed, since he saw gay couples all over the place every day, but it didn't help.

He'd been absolutely right to worry, too. He'd heard every sex talk, every lecture, every single thing their parents could possibly say to them. Leaf had been a little hurt, since she and Red had liked each other for a long time and were almost a couple, but she'd supported them no matter what, because she was just that damn great. But their familes – ugh! Sex this, commitment that... It was just ridiculous.

So the fact that he was currently using all of his weight to press Red into his mattress, fiercely kissing him almost – almost – hard enough to bruise, and keeping a hand suggestively close to his hip was probably a lot more satisfying than it should have been.

Red was surprisingly active, and Green was so acutely aware of every movement Red made. He could feel the tug of cloth on his shoulders where Red gripped his shirt and the warm touch where their shirts rid up and their skin pressed together.

More than anything, Green was aware of just how increasingly hard it was becoming to think. His whole world narrowed down to hot mouth underneath his, the way the normally docile boy sucked on his tongue so hungrily, the primal craving for more of his skin.

Their usual, tentative touches were a thing of the past, gone the moment Green pushed Red's shirt up. The smaller boy arched in response, body bowing to the path of Green's hand. Up, down. And then the other hand. He wanted to touch Red. Wanted to get him hot. Wanting him panting, writhing, squirming – god damn it, he wanted to get laid. Now.

Red was no submissive, and while Green should have been surprised at how Red, who was normally cautious when it came to physical contact, was silently begging for his touch, he should have also been surprised at how, suddenly, out of nowhere, he wanted sex so bad that he didn't care how they did this.

He wasn't. Instead, he was straddling Red's hips and bringing his mouth down hard on Red's neck, not bothering with tact or technique because with the way Red arched his neck for him, it was hard to think about that much. It was also hard to remember that sucking too hard left marks on Red's skin, but Green did, mouth still clamping tight on the sensitive flesh, wetly sucking the blood to the surface and threatening break the fragile capillaries, anyway. His tongue slid slick and easy down the wet skin to Red's collarbone, licking and breathing hard, teasing breathes with the promise of more touches before his lips and tongue gnashed back into his skin. Red jerked, letting out a sudden, sharp gasp.

Green tensed. He liked that sound. He wanted Red to make more of those sounds. Wanted him moaning, wanted him grunting, wanted him... Oh, god – he wanted him! He growled, a low, primal noise resonating his want and telling Red that he was his right now.

Some part of his mind was aware he still had hands, and in that instant his hands were back on Red's torso, smoothing over his stomach and back up to his chest and letting his fingertips linger almost teasingly near the waist of his jeans. He could feel where the hair on his stomach thickened, and while normally he laughed at how Red was fifteen and still barely had pubes, that tiny tuft of hair was suddenly the sexiest little tease Green had ever felt, and suddenly he wanted to yank those jeans down and take Red's cock into his palm fast and hard.

Red's arms tightened around him, and God, it felt good to have Red squeeze him like that. His senses felt heightened – almost superhuman, the way he could taste and touch and smell Red so well. He tore away from Red's neck, causing the boy to huff, and instead of sticking his tongue like he half-felt like doing, Green lowered his mouth to...

Well, Green didn't really know where to put his mouth. Or anything about sex at all, he suddenly realized.

And just as soon as his sexual hunger had overcome him, it had vanished, and he was left panting and blushing over an equally bewildered-looking Red.

"Uhm..." Green began.

Red, still gasping hard, gave him an indignant look, then roughly tugged his shirt back down.

Green gave him a small, sheepish smile, the blood slowly draining back out of his flushed face. "...Sorry."

Red just rolled his eyes, flopping back down into the sheets, looking suddenly very bored. At any other time, Green would have found it endearing, even cute, but right now, he was gripped with the cold fear that he'd screwed up. Bad.

"Red... Hey, you aren't mad, are you?"

He sighed in relief when Red shook his head, then he shakily lowered himself to press back against him. Red so incredibly, wonderfully warm...

With that thought and the sensation of Red's arms wrapping back around him, Green felt himself relax. Mostly – he was still hard, but that never lasted long, and it was never bad enough where he'd ever had to get away to take care of himself.

Red's neck was warm against his cheek, and the younger Gym Leader closed his eyes, trying to focus on the rhythmic beat of his friend's pulse and not the unease still clutching at his gut. "Sorry, buddy. Don't know what came over me. ...But you liked that, right?"

The Champion hummed some soft affirmation and Green could feel him smile. His heart fluttered – after a year of being together, Red still gave him butterflies.

Green laughed, a tiny, nervous sound. "I guess I did, too. ...But you know that. ...Did you ever want to, uhm... do... it?"

The former Champion wanted to groan at his awkward stupidity. "Do it"? What was he, twelve? He could only be relieved at the amusement in Red's responding snicker, and then nervous again when the other boy didn't respond.

Green sat up on his elbow, peering down at his friend and watching his face. He swallowed. Suddenly, it was a serious question and something to think about. He'd be lying if he said he'd never entertained the idea from time to time – a guy was allowed his fantasies, and while Red didn't seem like a very sensual kind of person, it was fair to assume he'd done the same once or twice. But entertaining the idea and actually going through with it were very different.

Having sex with Red wouldn't just be fufilling some lustful craving – it was something mature, something adult, and something intimate. They were serious about each other, and doing anything too soon or doing it wrong could hurt their relationship.

But then Red nodded seriously, looking Green directly in the eye before speaking. "We're staying together, so if we didn't do it soon, we'd do it later, right? It's you, so it's okay." Red finished this with a small, almost shy smile.

Green's heart swelled and all over again he was reminded of just why he loved the boy so damn much. He was special for Red, too. And Red was... Well, Red was something truly extraordinary.

"Okay," Green agreed. "So we will. Sometime soon. When we're ready. ...And when I have someone to buy me condoms. And when I come to accept that I'll never be on top – heh."

Red laughed again, and Green laughed, too, because it was pretty funny how he could always manage to just kill the mood the way he did.

And soon enough, they did. And it was awkward, tender, sensual, scary, painful, and any number of things Red always was. When their families found out, they still faked their regret, and they still had sex. Later, Green heard that having sex so young and so early almost never worked out for those involved. It often broke apart otherwise strong, loving relationships.

He was too young to know how or why, but it had worked out, and they knew they were an extremely rare example. It was just one more sure sign that Red really was, well, once in a lifetime...

How could anyone even think they'd ever decide to give that up?

–

Green drew his lips back in a snarl, glaring down at the man before him in an almost predatory manner, ready to kill. "Asshole."

"P-Please!" the man begged. "I didn't know who he was! He... He just had Pokémon, and he'd been dead a while, and I didn't think..."

Green snarled, kneeling in closer, grabbing fistfuls of the pitiful, mousey little man's jacket. "You're right! You didn't think! Where the fuck did you put his wallet? His bag? Tell me everything, or prison's going to seem like heaven after what I put you through!"

The man let out a squeak. "...Mister Oak, please! Everything I took is in my closet! I-I just looked in his wallet and saw that he didn't have any cash- I'm sorry! I haven't even gone through his things! H-His Pokémon are in my PC..."

Green's nostrils flared in disgust. "You're disgusting. What's your password? I'm taking them back!"

The man squeaked again, scrambling to get away from the absolutely terrifying Gym Leader. "It's seven-zero-uncle-dash-foxtrot-beta-dash-eight! Please, don't hurt my Pokémon! Just... Please take them and go! Call the police, hurt me if you have to, but don't touch them!"

The Gym Leader snorted before gritting his teeth and giving the sorry man a vehement look of disbelief. "I'm not someone who steals from those who can't fight back."

He felt the tug when Umbreon yanked on his pantleg, trying to get his attention. "Bre!"

Green hissed. "Umbreon, I'm busy!" In an instant, he was up, throwing back the creaky false wooden door and digging through musty clothing until he found Red's old backpack, wallet stuck in a side pocket. He gave a satisfied nod, then threw the bag over his shoulder and hurriedly made his way over to the only PC in the room – a Silph Co. laptop that was about the only new thing the man owned. His fingers flew over the small keyboard faster than he knew they could, pounding the man's Trainer ID into the keys the moment he accessed Bill's storage system. As soon as he typed in the password, the screen lit up to show the Box the man – apparently named Douglas – had last accessed.

It was clear that this man was a collector, and this box held his prizes. A Modest Togekiss, a Jolly Weavile, a Timid Lucario... But Green could care less. His heart stopped, and the room around him and the world around the room narrowed down to the six Pokémon he saw iconed in the lower left-hand corner of the Box.

Pikachu, level 99

OT: Red

07361

Hasty Nature

Viridian Forest

Met at lvl 3

Hates to lose.

He shakily clicked the "Withdraw" option and slowly let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"I did it, Red," he whispered, voice cracking with relief and... something. "I got them back. Safe and sound."

He expected to feel something – proud, happy, maybe some sort of sorrow, but he couldn't.

"Why...? I got them back. I did everything I set out to do. I made things right..."

Douglas looked up, his mousy little eyes shrinking back behind his glasses. "I'm so sorry, Mister Oak! Please, call the authorities! I'm prepared to repent for my crimes!"

He shook his head, still staring at the too-bright screen, eyes wide, hand shaking. "No. The cops don't care if you stole Pokémon off of a dead kid. You were going to find out who he was and if anyone wanted his shit, anyways. It's probably a good thing your pathetic ass found him before a real crook did."

The man squeaked again and shrunk back into himself, but Green wasn't worried about him.

"...There's still something I have to do, then. This isn't over, Red. I... I'll make things right for you, too."

He stood up as soon as the last Pokéball fell from the transporter. He caught Espeon's Poké Ball easily in his hand, palming it for a moment before carefully sliding it into Red's bag with the others.

"Is that all you wanted...?" Douglas piped up from his spot on the floor. Green ignored him, instead nodding and turning to leave.

"Mister Oak?"

Green gave a harsh, irritated sigh, shoulders slumping. At that moment, Umbreon again tugged at his pantleg. "Yeah, I'm done here. Got what I came for. Happy with that. See ya."

As the Gym Leader left, Douglas couldn't help extending a hand out towards the young man who'd terrified him so much, as though wanting to give him what he could never leave with. "...Then why do you look like you're about to cry?"

–

"I love you."

Red's eyes widened at the confession, and then he closed them, nodding.

Saying as much was little more than a formality right now. Green had already wrapped Red up tight in his arms, just a few steps away from where, moments ago, they'd shared their first kisses. Red already knew. And right now, Green already knew his response. He knew from the way Red squeezed him tight, knew from how he gently nuzzled into Green's neck, knew from the heartbeat he felt through his shirt.

Normally, Green would have struggled to save face, say something cool and snooty, but instead, he was pulling himself tighter against the Champion in his arms. The warmth of Red's hold was an odd counterpart to the cold chill of the mountain air around them, but not an unwelcome one. Even the cold wasn't as bad, he thought.

Green rested his head against Red's, not even knowing what made him suddenly grow the cajones to "ask Red out" (as Leaf had put it), and not caring, instead opening his eyes to look out at what Red had originally brought him here to see.

Instead of sleet and hail, the fine crystals tickling his nose were tiny and fell slowly, and he grinned against Red's hair, holding out his hand and opening his palms to catch the icy dust that caught the sunlight and glittered like diamonds, shining brilliantly before melting against his skin. The sky above them was perfectly blue and cloudless, and off in the distance, for mere moments, Green was sure he saw something flying off toward the horizon, glittering and catching the sun just like the diamond dust.

This rare phenomenon was, according to legend, fated on happen on very special days. The Gym Leader smiled again and pulled back from Red, letting him look again.

The Champion's eyes were wide and bright with wonder, no longer glassed over and emotionless but as full of life as Red had always been.

All that glittered, Green thought. He had Red back, and with him, more than he ever could have asked for. The simple-minded yet incredible boy who was fascinated by ice clouds and clear skies was a spectacle, himself.

So he had a boyfriend. A damn good one, too. For once in his life, an accomplishment meant much more to him than the prestige or pride that eventually wore off. This was more than an accomplishment. This was... Red.

Red, who, suddenly unimpressed with the rarely-seen diamond dust, nuzzled right back into him, smile receding into a contented sort of expression before his lips pressed together against Green's neck.

"I love you."

–

Despite his grandfather's praise and the thanks from Red's mother, Green couldn't be proud of himself.

He still had more to do.

His grandfather was all over him the next day, carefully crouching down where the Gym Leader sat at his laptop, carefully examining the items and Pokémon left in Red's storage – an account only Green had ever been told the password to.

His gramps hesitated, and Green gave no sign of acknowledging him. "...Green, if you're not happy with all you've done so far, you're not going to be happy. I understand your intentions are good, but enough is enough. His funeral is in two days, and it's time to let it go. He's gone. This isn't normal, Green. Stop trying to keep from feeling sad and just let it out."

Green said nothing, only let his grip tighten on the optical USB mouse he'd just bought. Damn good deal, too... Five hundred Poké, brand new.

"Green, how can you give a eulogy if you, yourself, aren't mourning his loss?"

...And it hadn't even been on sale, either. Maybe it wouldn't be the most reliable or durable thing he'd ever used, but it worked fine right now. It even had the nifty scroll wheel. Maybe he'd get a mouse pad, like he had for his usual PC...

"...Green..."

He gave an irritated sigh and slammed the notebook shut, dropping the mouse along with it. "Gramps, I'm fine. Shit happens. Whatever. But we'll all be okay. Really."

Oak raised an eyebrow, mouth twisting as though he were chewing on something unpleasant. "...Green, just what are you planning to do?"

Green shrugged. "...I've heard of several Pokémon that could help us out. Grant wishes, restore life to the ashes, travel back in time... It's not over yet. I'll bring him back."

Green didn't miss the look of shock that crossed his grandfather's face. Slowly, his face tightened, teeth gritted, brow furrowed. "No."

"Fuck you," Green hissed. "You never believed in me – never! But I'm going to find a way. I'm going to prove you wrong once again."

Oak's scowl deepened. "The only thing you'll be proving is that you're the first to insult Red's memory by chasing after ridiculous ideas. Do you really think you're the first who's wanted to bring back the dead? If you try any more of this, you're only going to hurt yourself!"

Green thrust his middle finger up, and, once again, yanked back his sleeve, brandishing the mostly-bandaged, scabbed over injuries on his arm. "Guess I'm good at that. I don't care anymore, all right? If I want to get myself killed, let me! Only I have the right to decide what I want to do with my life, and I'm bringing him back!"

Oak's hands curled into white-knuckled fists, his lip curling back. "...Seeing all these people mourning Red should be a good reminder of just how many people you'd hurt if you kept doing these things to yourself. Red's not the only one who loves you, and if you'd stop being selfish long enough to see that, maybe you wouldn't be so miserable."

Green shook his head, pushing the thought of crying friends and relatives out of his head. "No. I won't fail. ...I have to bring Red back."

"No." Oak's voice was softer now, and Green felt himself tremble. "There's nothing you can do. He's gone, Green."

Green pushed down the lump in his throat once more, and with it, tried to push away the shaking in his limbs. "No. I'll find him. I'll... Maybe as a ghost, or something."

His grandfather was no longer angry when he reached for Green's shoulder and rested his hand there. "Green, you've lost a lot of people you love. Your grandmother, mummy and daddy, your beloved companions, your old friend Agatha... You've always known there's nothing you can do for them. They're gone. It's the most awful tragedy we can face, and it being more awful than ever doesn't mean that there's a way out of it. I mean it when I say the best thing you can do is mourn your loss and move on."

Green didn't like the way his heart was racing, or how much harder it was to breathe. "...Not just my loss, Gramps. The whole world's. He's... Not good enough for this world. That's no good reason for him to leave it..."

His grandfather sniffled softly and put his arm around Green's trembling shoulders, having been through the same struggle far, far too many times before. "I know."

Green curled in on himself, accepting his grandfather's embrace and trying to control the gasping breaths that gradually turned into sobs. "He's gone..."

Oak held him close, softly stroking his hair until, finally, Green broke down, wrapping his arms back around him and weeping into his shirt like a child.

–

He and Red were friends again.

Days were long and summer was nearly unbearable. At the age of thirteen, little was worse than peeling off layers of carefully chosen clothing and beating through sticky patches of hot grass, sun beating down on them the same every day, where the nights were too short, too warm.

Red stayed close to him, with no real aim or purpose, watching him with listless, but curious eyes. His silence never bothered the young former Champion, now proudly a Gym Leader, as it was just one less person to criticize him for how awful he used to be.

Occasionally, Red would offer comment or advice, even occasionally reciprocate a friendly comment. They were the same as any friends, he supposed. By then, Green was old enough to understand how every snooty comment and every afternoon spent smearing Red's self-worth into the dirt was irrefutable proof that not only did he really like Red more than he'd ever really liked anyone, but that he suffered from a suite of his own insecurities, as well.

It was strange, how growing up and extending the proverbial olive branch suddenly made everything that much better. Red thought he was worth being friends with – maybe he was. His Pokemon forgave him – he was worthy of their forgiveness. And his grandfather was proud of him – that spoke for itself.

Though Red spoke rarely, and though he was obviously suffering from some sort of depression, Green was the most proud of how he could make Red smile. He had already brought Red back from that stupid mountain, warmed him up to polite society... He smiled to himself.

Afternoons were brutal, but they managed, complaining about the heat as teenagers did while laughing off their past demons as silly childhood whims. As Green fixed Red, surely, Red had been fixing him, too.

Growing up was a relief to them, and their friendship wasn't unwelcome. Every day, the young Leader wondered just how he'd manage if not for Red. Their childhood wasn't forgotten, however, and though they remembered, they didn't hang on, instead just smiling together in quiet, shared nostalgia while they traveled the humid, overgrown paths winding through the forest near where they'd started their journey.

Though only thirteen and still a child, Green knew just how bad he had it for Red. He knew what he'd heard – that children couldn't fall in love, but love was the last thing on his mind as he delighted in the simple, friendly touches, and warm, fluttering feelings. Brushing Red's hand, touching his shoulder... And when the normally jumpy, shy boy turned to him and smiled, Green felt as though his heart was on the verge of bursting.

He had a crush on Red. He always had. He supposed it was kind of cute – except "cute" was not, not, not a word you used to describe Green Oak! It was... It just was!

But it didn't matter, because all he really wanted was to know he and Red were friends. And when a warm afternoon turned into a warm night, the two sat outside, too distracted by their own fascinations and teenage tomfoolery, they'd never had better friends. Never been better friends. It was easy to laugh, easy to smile – it was easy, the one thing neither of them had ever known in their young lives.

He knew he'd regret it, but he ended up camping outside, Red next to him, dressed in little more than his underwear, still outright suffering after being used to mountain cold and snowy, bone-chilling nights alone.

"This must be pretty hard for you," Green commented, a not-quite-teasing smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

Red just shook his head, a flicker of humor lighting up his usually glassy eyes. "It's going to be harder for you. I'm so sweaty. You'll really "smell me later", hm?"

They laughed because it was funny.

–

Weekends were sacred for any teenager, and the irony of absolutely hating it wasn't lost on Viridian's young Leader.

His room, still a collage of destroyed belongings, was no place to put his mind at peace. He sat, rocking himself in erratic rhythms to his own sobbing.

For all he knew of grief, for how he'd thought he knew the full bounds of human suffering... He'd been wrong. It was all he could do to grip his knees and cry so hard his stomach hurt. Long after his throat was burned raw from screaming, he was still sobbing, releasing terrible, rasping noises when his voice could no longer carry a scream. He made no effort to calm himself, no effort to rest his exhausted body... Even his sister had since given up on quieting his anguish, and she slept peacefully in the next room, drugged to sleep so she wouldn't wake up to her little brother's agonized crying.

Several times, he could barely breathe, and his heart beat so fiercely that, for sure, he thought he was having some sort of heart attack. Those times when he could barely supply his lungs were the most bearable, where he was just deprived enough not to feel his lungs ache for oxygen, and not breathing enough so he could close his eyes and find comfort in pretending he was dead.

But just as someone who'd known joy was destroyed by sorrow, even those small comforts only softened him up for the next blow. Pain never hurt when it was all he ever felt, and trying to feel better only made matters worse when those small securities crumbled under his grief. He was better off hurting forever, so he never knew how much it hurt.

Over and over, the cycle continued, and even several times when Green thought it was over and he'd exhausted himself, he was sobbing again. The ordeal went on, hour after excruciating hour, and it was all Green could do to just bury himself in his little puddle of snot and wish he were dead.

It wasn't as though Red had just never existed in the first place – he'd changed Green, and losing that part of him was collapsing the very foundation that had built him up.

Vaguely, he became aware of the room around him becoming flooded with light, and the far-off, underwater sounds of murmuring.

The scenes played reversed in his head – his last kiss with Red's corpse, the friendly, professional Tabitha, the waking up and realizing the world was cold.

Cold, cold, cold. Every part of his body was cold. Cold clutched like a heavy stone in his chest, grief weighing him down until he couldn't move. The warm afternoon sun was a cruel joke, because the world was cold, and whenever he opened his eyes, it was more awful than he could ever remember it being.

Eventually, the cold make him numb. Miserable, cold, and numb. At some point, someone must have draped a blanket over him, because he was clutching blue fleece instead of his own jacket. He didn't care – it was too cold. He couldn't sleep, and the few point he'd maybe come close, there was no escape, and the swallowing, cold shadows of grief still found their way to him for the few moments he'd felt some faint relief.

He had a funeral to attend, only a day away. Or maybe not. Time was cold, but never held still, and time was just one more thing that didn't matter to him. Even still, he hung on to his raw anguish as proof that he was real, and that his suffering meant Red had existed. Still existed.

He was never coming back, and Green felt, for sure, that neither was he.

–

"What kept you, Red?"

Green leaned back further against Silph Co.'s table, smirking at the bewildered-looking boy who'd just appeared from the warp in front of him. He laughed at Red's surprise.

"I thought you'd turn up if I waited here! I guess Team Rocket slowed you down! Not that I care!"

He pushed himself off his palm and stood up before reaching down for a Poké Ball. Red's eyes narrowed, still confused, but wary. His rival's lips pressed into a thin line, gloved hand lingering close to his belt. Green smirked.

" I saw you in Saffron, so I decided to see if you got better!"

With that, Green sent his Pidgeot into battle. Startled, Red immediately threw out his Pikachu. The tiny, worn ball burst open, and already, the Mouse Pokémon was charging at his Pidgeot, cracklings of electricity bursting from its swollen cheeks.

Though Red hadn't trained as hard, he still won – and admirably, at that. While Red had started his journey with a Charmander, he now had a Venusaur in his arsenal, as well as the Normal-type Snorlax.

Green just laughed. He'd only weakened Red for the challenge ahead of him. ...Sure, Red had beaten him, but how he was weakened and all alone to take down their boss! Red would be lucky to even escape alive. That meant his rival would be out the picture for good!"Oh, man! So, are you ready for the Boss Rocket?"

Upon realizing what Green had done, Red's eyes widened in horror. Green's smirk widened. That was right. He had to go take out their boss all by himself!

Green turned around, back towards the warp Red had just come from, shrugging and laughing once more."Well, Red, I'm moving on up and ahead! By checking my pokedex, I'm starting to see what's strong and how they evolve! I'm going to the Pokemon League to boot out the Elite Four! I'll become the world's most powerful Trainer!"

Red swallowed, shrinking back slightly against the office walls. "Green, wait! Don't just leave me to fight him myself!"

Green paused for just a moment, holding still, and then shrugged again. He flipped his hand up in a throwaway gesture before stepping onto the warp. "Red, well, good luck to you! Don't sweat it! Smell ya!"

That was the last time Green would ever be unnecessarily cruel to Red. For years, he made a game out of showing Red how mean he could be. For years later, he regretted never stopping to show Red how good he could be, too.

–

Red was buried on a clear Sunday afternoon. Green, still red-eyed and aching, sat up front as the first speaker gave his words.

Red had always said he wanted people to laugh at his funeral, but it was a somber occasion, droves of old friends and acquaintances in their best huddled around, mopping at their eyes with tissues and cloth handkerchiefs.

He supposed it was also very uplifting – seeing so many who cared about and believed in Red there to share his legacy and the many memories they had of the young Master. Through their tears, many people looked up, clasping their hands and keeping their gaze firmly forward, determined, the way Red always had.

It was nice, to look back on the memories they'd shared. Through the stories and melodies, Green remembered. Remembered playing with Red outside their house, flipping through dusty old photo albums and playing video games until they fell asleep in front of the TV. He supposed they were looking back on their lives with Red just as Red would look back on his life with all of them.

Green couldn't regret going – it was a powerful experience. Red no longer seemed dead, but, instead, as though his memory really did carry on. A piece of Red remained in the lives of the many, many people he had touched, and because of how he changed those people, they would change others because of the way they were touched, and so on. That way, Red would never truly die.

His Pokémon sat up front, having been by his side through every moment of the journey that had made their Trainer a legacy. Pikachu and Charizard huddled close, crying gently to one another as the various speakers gave their last respects. It wasn't depressing, per se, but somber.

It seemed as though the spirit of the boy they'd all loved so much was all around them, and, all at once, his name, the name they'd been avoiding, that Elephant In The Room, filled the halls.

The speaker, a man Green didn't recognize, but who had apparently known Red well, addressed the issue, standing before a microphone, voice straining. "We should not bury ourselves further into sorrow by not acknowledging the individual who lost his life. I want each and every one of you to say his name – Red. Each and every individual here is sharing the same grief, and with that shared burden, we have no reason to bottle it up. We gathered here to give Red our final respects and say our goodbyes, and what that means for each one of you is different, but one thing we all know is that we are mourning not only the loss of a Legendary Trainer, but also an incredible person. For many of us, Red was more than his legendary title – he was a friend, a son, a partner, a valuable companion. And for those reasons, I want all of you, right now, to open up and let yourselves talk about what has happened here."

The mourners nodded, some turning to a nearby friend or relative and whispering something. Green didn't know if he'd been crying the entire service, and he didn't care. Red was gone, and it was all he could do to just cry until it didn't hurt anymore.

Still weeping, Green stood up and gave the eulogy. It wasn't eloquent or even coherent, but it was from the heart.

There were some times – the good times – that were so hard to recall it was all Green could do to just keep talking about the amazing friend he'd lost without breaking down, sobbing about how he was all gone.

There was so much about Red he couldn't even begin to describe – how he had a taste for a certain kind of Pokémon food, or the way he'd always finish a match fairly, or how he just plain sucked at driving. He wanted to go on, fill the mourners' memories with every little thing about Red they never knew and remind them of all the things they did.

He kept it short and sweet, simple just as Red was, and a fitting tribute for the both the celebration of his life and the mourning of his passing.

He was crying into his hands when the organist started playing again, but distantly, in his mind, we was remembering...

–

Childhood wasn't something Green could appreciate while he had it, the same as any child.

In particular, the two of them, as they sat on the sofa in Green's living room, away from where the adults gathered in huddled groups they weren't allowed in.

"Grandma died," Green said quietly. Red nodded, his wide, crimson eyes sinking.

"That means she's not coming back. Mummy and daddy aren't coming back, either. ...How come people leave me, Red? Don't they like me?"

Red quickly nodded, looking a little bewildered at this conclusion.

"I don't understand... If Mum and Dad are gone, and now Grammy, that means I only have Gramps and Daisy living with me. Red, everyone else has a mum and dad! What about me? I don't have parents..."

Green sniffled then, wiping his face on his chubby little hand. "I got no one, Red. I gotta do it all by myself. Everyone else has their moms and dads, but not me. ...You remember Grandma, right?"

It was a silly question, and Green knew it, but he wanted to be sure that Red, too, understood why he was sad. The other boy nodded, looking over at something far-off.

"Do you remember the lullaby?"

Red nodded, head perking up a little, trying to recall...

"...Grandma can't sing it for me anymore. I can't sleep tonight if she doesn't sing it. Maybe you should sing it."

Red's eyes widened, and then he swallowed, nodding, before he began, voice soft yet tight with sadness.

"There were two birds..."

Green relaxed his shoulders, sighing shakily as Red sang. He sniffled, then curled up tighter into the cushions, unable to fight his sleepiness any longer.

"Fa, la, la, la, lal, de..."

Green nodded in rhythm to the rhyme until he fell asleep.

"One flew away, and then there was one..."

–

It was no use, Green finally thought to himself.

For all the spirtual words and elegantly wrapped flowers he'd seen just one week ago, there was point-blank nothing he could do. No amount of talking about Red, remembering, mourning – every day, he woke up, half-expecting to see the Champion having barged into his room and rummaging through his things.

Nothing.

Every little thing that brought about memories of him were just empty things – all that was Red was gone.

He didn't want to remember, to grieve, to move on – he needed Red. In his heart, he knew it was over for him. He couldn't feel normal again – that was a given. From now on, normal, for Green, would mean a completely foreign world he would never be able to accept as such. When everything you know is split down the middle, there would be no possibility of understanding the new world you lived in. The new world was cold, callous, and broken with Red no longer a part of it.

It was all he could do to breathe in – and with his throat so raw, even that was painful, and try to appreciate what was left his life, broken and altered as it was.

But there was nothing. It was over.

In his heart, he knew the new, cold world had already claimed him. He had memories upon blissful memories of the boy he'd loved so much, but without Red, he was no closer to living than he was in death. Death, something that had claimed Red so suddenly and with such force that the inevitability of his own death was a chilling, beautiful reality.

Occasionally, he let himself slip into the world around him, walking alongside the familiar Pikachu and finding companionship in someone who knew his pain so well. But even though his loss gave them shared grief, without him, he and Pikachu were suddenly strangers, not even knowing how to help themselves enough to help one another.

Green could watch from a distance as Pikachu tearfully delivered a small bunch of tiny white wildflowers, wrapped up in a leaf held tight in the Electric-type's teeth. And there it was – the most the companion who'd served him best could do for him now. Leave a tiny spray of little flowers. What tribute to their partnership was that? Green wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all.

There was nothing left for him, nothing that didn't shatter for him the moment he found it. However many sad songs and hopeful tributes were reviewed as his funeral, he didn't want anyone to feel that sort of sorrow. Not because he was like Red, who hated sadness and funerals, but because no one should cry for him when he was all but glad to go.

Even though Red had gone where he couldn't follow.

He was so alone.

–

Grandma Oak motioned her two boys up into bed with her, smiling as best she could.

Five years old and best of friends, Green and Red were a rare set of children. Though they bickered constantly, they played nicely, and unlike many other boys their age, friendship wasn't just something they passed off as daily entertainment, like video games and hide-and-seek.

Childhood was a frantic whirlwind of events, each new thing abandoned for something new to give the child entertainment. In growing up, young boys needed new things, new friends, new adventures. And for the rare example of Red and Green, they found these new things together, growing up only tightening their childhood bond.

Though children were fickle, unpredictable creatures, and one missing block could mean they never spoke again, Grandma Oak had faith in her young grandson. He'd found himself a nice friend, and so young, too. If they grew up together, so much the better. In a way, young Red was her second grandson, as she'd been there the day the tiny boy was born into the world, just a few short weeks after her daughter's first boy.

And remarkably like his mother, he was! Though her daughter had passed away years ago, Grandma Oak was certain she'd be proud that her friend's child was growing up into such a fine boy, just as Red's own mother was proud of Green.

Red and Green, still young children, found great amusement in playing on Grandma's bed, jumping and laughing and chasing each other off the edge. Unable to chase after them, Grandma Oak just laughed to herself, watching them carefully to ensure they didn't harm themselves.

"Green," she began.

Immediately, her grandson looked up, releasing his hold on Red. "What is it?"

Red scurried out from underneath him and over to the safety of Grandma's pillows. She chuckled again.

"Bedtime."

The two groaned in unison. It was a good thing, they figured. Grandma's room was boring, anyways. She couldn't get up and play with them, and she couldn't see well enough to play games.

The two left shortly, shuffling their feet and grumbling.

The beauty of childhood being a short, fickle thing was that the things that terrified adults were insignificant to children, forgotten as soon as they were recognized.

"My mom used to sing it," Green mentioned casually while they made their way back to Red's home.

Red looked up, curious eyes once again full of questions.

Green smiled a little, looking up ahead where mid-evening had begun to cast their neighborhood into shadow. "Grandma's lullaby. She taught it to my mom, and she used to sing it to me. ...That's what Grandma says, at least. I don't remember Mom or Dad."

Red frowned, cocking his head slightly, not understanding how someone couldn't remember their mom.

Green just laughed, a happy, echoing sound that made Red smile again. "I never knew Mom, but... I have you, right? And we're pretty much brothers, so my mom is like your mom! We're gonna be friends forever, got it?"

Red nodded seriously, brow furrowing in a determined little scowl. "No matter what!"

"Promise?"

"Promise!"

They ran ahead, laughing as children did, the promise between them forgotten for the one of ice cream and a warm night laughing under the covers far past their bedtime.

–

Sunday. A day for rest, and a damn good day for it, too.

Green wasn't sure what had brought him back up to Mt. Silver, but he supposed he found some peace in revisiting these old haunts.

Mt. Silver was a very quiet place, true to the legends. Home to the most powerful Pokémon in the region, it was a place only suited for Masters and those better described in legend. It was fitting, then, that with every footstep, Green felt as though he was soiling some plain of Earth man had no right trespassing in. The ancient mountain spoke of thousands of secrets, the Pokémon within, battle-wizened strangers to humanity.

Green, exhausted from his day-long journey, collapsed at the summit, bowing his head in quiet respect. He understood now, how peaceful Red could feel here. For all the bloodshed, hatred and warfare that went on in the world, this mountain, having bore witness to it all, still stood uninhabited. It was a cold, brutal, death-defying sanctuary away from a world that asked far too much of him.

After all, Red had spent a good portion of his time training here.

Pikachu, seated at his feet, gave him a knowing look, ears lowered as he watched Green realize the same things he and Red had. "...Pika?"

Green stood up then, feeling weightless without the supplies he'd foolishly neglected to bring. "...Pikachu? Could you come here?"

He greeted the small Pokémon by softly stroking his ear with a finger, and then he sighed. The skies were clear, but snow still fell – there was none of the magic he'd hoped to re-encounter. Nothing reminding him of just how real Red had been.

The snow crunched under his boot as he knelt down, seeing Red's Pikachu eye-to-eye. The simple rustling of his jacket while he fought to remove his pendant felt like a disturbance on this mountain summit, silent and almost untouched by man. It was hard to even believe Red had had the biggest battle of his life – the one against the Johto Trainer, Gold – while standing here. The eerie, otherworldly sensation gave Green the impression that the cave walls held many more secrets about the Legendary Red – someone who even he, clearly, hadn't fully understood.

Green fit his prized pendant around Pikachu's neck once, then twice, making sure it was secure. The yellow creature cocked his head. "...Pika-pi?"

Green smiled, for once, feeling completely at peace with himself. "...Pikachu, do you think you can head back to Pallet with that? ...I... I think I need to be alone for a while."

At first, Pikachu fit him with the same look of confusion. And then, his tiny eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. Slowly, silently, the small Pokémon pulled himself together before looking up, sniffling, and tearfully nodding to show he understood. "Pika... Pikachu-pi..."

Green turned back around, not watching, but knowing he was leaving the mountain as he'd asked. "Goodbye, Pikachu."

From the summit, Green could look out and see not only all of Kanto – damn beautiful view, too, but the very place, not far down, where he'd finally admitted he'd fallen for Red. And it had been exactly as easy as falling – he'd had no choice. It was gravity – gravity that had pulled him into a new world beyond anything he'd ever dreamed possible. Maybe it was fate – if he'd ever been one to believe in fate, and maybe not, but either way, loving Red had been effortless and unpreventable. It had been falling.

There were a hundred thousand things he wanted to turn around and tell the departing Pikachu, but, instead, he decided his sudden contentment had spoken for itself. The wind in his hair and a cold world forgotten behind him, finally, Green found peace.

He led himself over to the nearby edge, smiling softly to himself before giving into gravity all over again.

–

Fa, la, la, la, lal de

There were two birds sat on a stone,

Fa, la, la, la, lal de

One flew away, and then there was one,

Fa, la, la, la, lal de

The other flew after, an then there was none,

Fa, la, la, la, lal de

And so the poor stone was left all alone!

Fa, la, la, la, lal de

For those wondering, the lullaby is an old one I read in a doujinshi by GD Mechano. It's from about 500 years ago, so no copyright infringement here. =) This fic was inspired by the English adaption of a song called "Gloomy Sunday", a song that has reportedly been linked to hundreds of suicides in Hungary. If you're curious, look up the lyrics. It's a very hopeless, sad sort of song. If you want to listen, I recommend Sarah Mclachlan's version. Anyways, all comments and critique welcome and MUCH appreciated. I know I didn't pull this off as well as I could have, but oh, well. =P Thanks.