Archive of Our Own

For as long as Green could remember, he was never the favored grandson.

Which was ironic, since technically, he was his grandfather’s only grandson.

Daisy didn’t count.

But Green?

Well.

All he ever wanted was for his gramps to be proud of him.

…

It was only natural.

He was so good with pokémon. And he knew it.

He had memorized types and strategies by the time he had just turned eight, ready to start forming battle strategies to use by the time he got his partner pokémon.

…But Red?

…

He was the real favorite grandson.

Regardless of the fact that Red had been Green’s friend since they were very young, it didn’t seem to matter. Red had always been the favorite.

They weren’t even related.

As kids, though, that hadn’t mattered much.

Green was happy to play with Red, chattering on and on about something cool he had learned, all while Red nodded excitedly.

Red didn’t talk much, especially around other people, not even when they were young.

But Green had never cared.

All that mattered was that his best friend’s eyes seemed so expressive when Green ranted on about his interests.

(In truth, Red was his only friend. Pallet was a small town as it was, let alone that they were the only kids in town besides Daisy. Though that had never mattered either.)

Green brought Red over to the lab numerous times, and they played with the pokémon there.

Looking back on it, maybe Green should have known that something was off.

He adored the pokémon at the lab, and always preened over Gramps’ meowth, how soft the cat’s fur was.

Green liked to think that he was great with the pokémon, because most of the time they liked him.

But it wasn’t quite like how they loved Red.

Sure, they liked Green just fine.

But Red?

…

Sometimes, Green swore that he could see Red nodding at something after the pokémon had cried for them, even though Green hadn’t spoken.

Once, he caught Red laughing when playing with a male nidoran. The pokémon looked almost…smug, if Green was reading that expression right. But nothing in the pokémon’s face would have compelled him to laugh…

…

So yeah, in hindsight, there were some pretty obvious signs that Red was gifted with pokémon.

But that had never bothered Green.

He knew that despite Red’s natural aptitude, Green was good with the pokémon, too. He really liked them, and couldn’t wait to start on his journey.

Besides, it didn’t matter how much Gramps liked Red.

(Favored Red, not liked. Never gave Green the time of day.)

When it came time to start their journeys, Green would prove that Red wasn’t all that Gramps made him out to be.

(That Green was actually worth something, too.)

…

But really, even before they had started their journeys, the ramifications of their one-sided rivalry had already begun to take effect.

Gramps had been proclaiming how good and smart Red was from the time they were young.

Green had been used to just ignoring it, but…

He could only handle that for so long.

As a very little kid, he had found his friend’s bright red eyes to be rather cool. They were very different, and he had rationalized Gramps’ behavior by thinking that maybe his grandfather thought that Red was cool, just like he did.

…But no, the truth was that even before they got their pokémon, Gramps was impressed by Red. He was never impressed by Green like he was with Red.

It…wasn’t fair.

What had Green ever done wrong? He spent time with the pokémon at the lab, and had talked with Gramps about type advantage and strategy ever since he could speak.

…Why had he chosen Red instead of him?

…

In the end, Green knew he had started to be a bit of an asshole to Red, when they started their journeys.

And…he could see that Red had been confused. Hurt.

Which was understandable.

To Red, it probably seemed like Green - who was always happy-go-lucky, especially about their pokémon journeys - had suddenly snapped.

And Green was the first to admit that he hadn’t…been very nice.

It started with the taunting.

For instance, when they had chosen their pokémon, and Red had chosen the charmander, Green mocked him for the choice.

Had called Charmander not as strong as the squirtle that Green had picked.

He knew at that point he was just egging Red on, but just once, he wanted to impress his grandfather.

How could he ever hope to live up to the great Pokémon professor otherwise?

(After all, no one would ever tell him quite what had happened to their parents, but Green wasn’t stupid. He could guess what the two flags meant when some official brought them home.

It wasn’t a surprise that his and Daisy’s parents had been remarkable pokémon battlers, not by any means. So was it really a surprise that they had gone the way they had?)

Without his parents, Green had to live up to Gramps’ legacy. He just had to.

…

And promptly missed a chance of impressing his grandfather when Squirtle had been knocked to the ground one too many times by Charmander and had been knocked unconscious.

He had yelled some nonsense about picking the wrong pokémon, but really, he didn’t mean it.

He was just…so upset.

In any case, he had dashed off, and couldn’t even really remember what it was that his grandfather had said after that.

He stopped home to give Squirtle time to rest, and grabbed a map from Daisy.

Daisy, at least, was happy for him, cooing over Squirtle.

“So you’re heading to the next city then, right? Good luck, ok?”

“I don’t need luck,” Green had bragged, picking up the now-healed Squirtle and grinning. “I’ve got my pokémon. I don’t need anything else.”

She made some comment about typical new trainers, but Green was out the door again before he could even hear the remark.

Luckily, he had had the forethought to snag some empty pokéballs before he had left.

He knew exactly where Daisy and Gramps kept the extra ones, after all.

(Had this been like the old days, before Gramps compared him to his new rival at every opportunity, Green would have happily shared with Red. Now, though, he had simply taken his stash and ran away with it, as far as he could.)

Halfway through battling on route one, Green noticed that Squirtle had seemed a little quiet - or, well, quieter than he had been in the lab - and it kind of worried him.

“Hey,” he called, and watched as Squirtle flinched a little before looking up at him.

Squirtle…looked scared.

Why?

Why would he be scared?

It wasn’t like Green was going to hurt him or anything. This was his new partner. He wasn’t going to hurt the water type.

That was ridiculous.

…

But then, hadn’t he accidentally called the pokémon ‘wrong’ after he lost the battle?

…

He sat down in the shade of a tree, Squirtle cautiously sitting nearby.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, meeting the pokémon’s eyes.

If Green could guess, the expression on the squirtle’s face seemed to be shock.

“It’s my fault that we lost, back there. Not yours. I didn’t pick the wrong pokémon.”

Squirtle was just staring at him, but Green had a feeling that it was a good start, from the way the pokémon kept inching closer.

“I just…wanted to make my grandfather proud. Red’s always been his favorite. I guess I…I wanted him to be impressed with me, too.”

Squirtle cooed, and slapped Green’s leg a few times with a small foot.

The pokémon looked a little…determined, if Green was reading him right.

But that was absurd. Hadn’t Green insulted him earlier?

Though that didn’t seem to matter to the water type, who looked willing to put it behind them.

…

And suddenly, Green remembered what Gramps had always said about partner pokémon.

They were usually very tolerant of their new trainers, even if they didn’t always understand.

But Green had a feeling that Squirtle understood.

Even though he might have had a bit more of a hard time trying to understand the pokémon, it seemed clear enough to him that Squirtle knew exactly what he was saying.

And if he was guessing right, it seemed like Squirtle wanted to help him. Wanted to prove that Green and Squirtle weren’t just pushovers.

…

So…

Alright.

He had leapt to his feet, more enthusiastic, and dashed off down the route.

While they were there, Squirtle helped him catch a pidgey.

Green…was so excited.

He had never caught a Pokémon before. It…was so cool.

He had brought Pidgey back out of its ball just moments later, along with Squirtle, and allowed them to walk with him into the next city.

It was big, but as long as he remembered what Gramps had said about the pokémon centers having that red tint to the buildings, he was fine.

(He had been forced to go back to Pallet when Gramps called before he could explore, and took the stupid pokédex before going back to the Viridian pokémon center.)

He let his Pokémon get healed up, and then dashed off to the left of the city, coming upon some big ledges.

It really wasn’t a surprise that it would take more experience to reach the elite four and the rest of the league, but it was a little disappointing that they couldn’t see more.

…And yet, when he turned around, there was Red.

Red, for his part, was just blinking at Green as if he had had the same thought.

To go and check out the league.

…Instinctually, Green made some rude remark, feeling it scorch on the way out of his mouth, and pulled out Pidgey’s pokéball.

Red…only had Charmander.

But somehow…

Dammit.

It didn’t matter.

The lizard pokémon wiped the floor with Pidgey, who was still learning.

He pulled Pidgey back after he got knocked out, whispering an apology almost too soft for himself to hear.

The pokéball in his hand twitched almost imperceptibly, so he had a feeling that - even though Pidgey couldn’t battle - he heard the words.

Squirtle, too, didn’t even stand a chance.

It…should have been impossible.

How did Red have such a strong relationship with Charmander already?

More than that - how was he beating Green?

Squirtle had the type advantage. And his shell was great for defense.

Pidgey, too, shouldn’t have been taken down so easily. Sure, he was still new to the whole idea of being a trainer’s pokémon, but…Pidgey had been fierce when Green caught him.

It wasn’t like Pidgey was a pushover.

Green just…didn’t understand.

He had more pokémon and a type advantage, and still lost.

It just…didn’t seem right.

But he shrugged it off as best as he could, ignoring the almost apologetic look on his old friend’s face.

No worries.

He’d get his Pokémon healed up and they’d face their next challenge together.

Namely, the first gym.

Squirtle had made it easy. Even Pidgey had helped.

…And along the way to Cerulean, he had called Gramps.

Wanted to brag about getting his first badge.

Especially because he had done it before Red.

…Gramps said that was good, but that he should also remember the Pokédex. He wasn’t going to forget it, he assured the man, and just listened to Gramps talk about how Red had just defeated the first gym, too.

Green didn’t bother to ask what types of pokémon Red had for the match.

It didn’t matter.

Besides, he’d see them again soon, he was sure of it.

And on the way to Cerulean, in Mt. Moon, a wild rattata just…walked right up to him.

Green had assumed that the mouse pokémon was begging for treats, tried to shoo him away, before just sighing a little and giving the pokémon some food.

No sooner had the mouse swallowed it - whole, might Green add - it had tried to climb onto his shoulder.

And when Green just offered the little guy a pokéball?

Well. The little paw tapped the center, and the ball hardly even shook before it clicked shut.

So he had a new pokémon.

He didn’t even have to battle it.

He wondered if Red could say the same.

…And by the time they reached Cerulean, he had been training them up so much that Pidgey had evolved.

Despite the fact that he had thought Squirtle would be the first to evolve, he wasn’t disappointed.

He remembered laughing with Pidgeotto afterwards, the bird pokémon taking playful swoops towards his head.

Even rattata, who had every right to be terrified of the bird, only looked pleased - just like Squirtle.

Really, Green was just shocked that he hadn’t even made it to the second gym and one of his pokémon had evolved.

He was just…so happy.

Even reaching Cerulean and waiting for them to be healed was an adventure.

He had been told that Bill, that supposed pokémon maniac, lived in a house to the north, near the cape. He wanted to try to meet the guy, learn any tips or tricks.

…Because Green had to be the best. Just had to.

As they crossed nugget bridge, defeating all the trainers there, a guy at the end of the bridge revealed himself to be a part of…whatever he called it.

Team Rocket? Again? Green thought that he’d seen the last of their bizarre bunch in Mt. Moon…

…

Weird.

The dude asked Green if he wanted to join, and tried to insist on it after Green had beaten all the other trainers, but yeah, that wasn’t happening.

Squirtle and Rattata were more than happy to take out the guy’s pokémon.

Luckily, that was the end of that discussion.

He didn’t even want to imagine what could have happened if he had lost.

But after the battle, Rattata glanced over at the grass near the water, lifting up onto his hind legs and sniffing the air.

He had seen something, or heard it, so Green just watched.

And then Rattata took off, cornering an Abra that had been floating near the edge of the water.

It seemed…almost scared.

To be fair, Rattata wasn’t just some run-of-the-mill rat, either. At least, not to Green.

But Green just raised his hands up, as if to show that they weren’t going to hurt it, and pulled out an empty pokéball.

He had heard about how strong some abras grew up to be, but he hadn’t seen one this whole time they were around.

Weirdly enough, all the abra did was teleport around Rattata. It didn’t even flee, or attack, not even when Rattata tried to bite it.

So Green threw the pokéball, elated when it shook a few times and clicked closed.

Beaming at Rattata, he squeezed the mouse close to him, thanking him.

Maybe it was just Green’s imagination, but he could’ve sworn he heard the pokémon chitter happily.

But regardless, he stopped long enough to make sure none of his pokémon were injured before continuing on.

Battling his way up the route, it quickly became clear to Green why Abra hadn’t been attacking - he didn’t actually know any attacks.

No wonder the poor thing had looked so terrified.

So they’d clearly have to work on that. No worries, though.

Green just swapped Abra out for the others whenever the psychic type got tired of just dodging everything.

He had the sneaking suspicion that Abra actually enjoyed the teleporting, or else he wouldn’t have done it.

But stopping over at Bill’s house was kind of cool.

He ended up with a ticket to the S.S. Anne, something all of his pokémon seemed excited about too, and heard the man click some button when Green was on the way out.

Green thought he heard a yelp, but didn’t think too much of it.

The guy had been pleased to see his new Abra, so in truth, Green just thought maybe he was taking notes or some shit. He had no idea.

Passing over the nugget bridge again, he stopped as he saw Red making his way to enter the bridge.

He made a comment about Red straggling behind him, and how Green had caught a bunch of strong, smart pokémon that he was proud of.

Then Green asked to see what Red had caught.

Honestly, maybe he should have rethought that one.

Considering that Red sent out an ivysaur when Green called Pidgeotto.

Which…how the hell did he catch an ivysaur? Maybe he caught it as a bulbasaur?

…But then, where did he catch the bulbasaur? Green’s only guess was the viridian forest, but jeez.

It wiped the floor with Pidgeotto. Poor guy.

He moved to send in Rattata, knowing that his pokémon’s speed would easily overwhelm the ivysaur enough to get a few good hits in, but Red recalled it, sending out the pikachu that had been sitting on his shoulder, instead.

That…wasn’t good.

Rattata was fast, but this pikachu?

Holy. Shit.

It was fast enough that Green could hardly tell where it was.

Rattata tried a quick attack, and that seemed to connect, but the pikachu hardly even looked fazed. It just shocked Rattata before he had the chance to counter it, and knocked him out.

…The pikachu wasn’t very verbal, either. In fact, Green didn’t even think that he had heard it call its own name when Red sent it into battle. That was…almost weird, but honestly kind of fitting. The pikachu talked even less than Red did.

Sending out Squirtle - because no way in hell, unless he had to, was he sending out Abra, who still didn’t know any offensive moves - Green braced for the ivysaur again.

That would make sense, after all.

But no - for some reason, Red had sent out Charmeleon.

It was a blow to Green’s pride - and his heart - that Red had managed to evolve his starter faster than he did.

And more than that - charmanders were known to be difficult to raise, sometimes. The fact that Red had managed to evolve his charmander before Green could handle Squirtle?

Yeah, it stung.

But they still had type advantage, so they’d be alright.

…

No.

They weren’t.

Green was internally weeping. For as strong as the others were, it just felt like Red was wiping the floor with them.

And poor Abra.

He didn’t even know any offensive moves.

But…he couldn’t give up.

Could he?

…

In the end, Red recalled Charmeleon and sent out a squirtle.

Green would have laughed if it wasn’t so bizarre. He had no idea how Red had even found a squirtle.

But he sent out Abra anyways, and despite not being able to attack back, he gave the squirtle a hard enough time - tiring him out.

In the end, it was just two hits from a water gun that took Abra out, and Green recalled him.

He did hand Red his money, making a remark that Red had already won, stop beating on them already.

…Which Red did immediately after Green asked.

Green had no clue what the expression was on his face, or even Red’s for that matter, and wondered just how long it had been since he had lost the ability to tell what Red was thinking.

But he told the guy about Bill and all of his advice anyways, leaving to go to the pokémon center.

…Wait, why did he tell Red about Bill? That could’ve been valuable tips and stuff that he could’ve kept to himself…

…

Ah, damn.

Maybe Green wasn’t as over their friendship as he would’ve liked to think.

The truth, as he later told his pokémon after they had won their second badge, was that he didn’t hate Red.

At all.

What he hated was the man’s natural ability to be so good with his pokémon - but if he was really being honest, he didn’t hate that either.

That was all just deflection.

What he really hated was that his grandfather would never give him any of the praise he gave Red.

Red’s natural battling talent? Green would never be praised like Red was.

In another life, maybe one where he wasn’t compared to Red so much, he would’ve loved his friend’s aptitude for pokémon. He was just…so good with them. Always had been.

…Didn’t make it hurt any less, though, when Gramps picked Red over him.

So he had to keep Red away from him.

Maybe, if the other trainer hated him, then maybe Green could stand to look into his bright eyes and see the hatred peering back at him. Maybe then, if he was a rival to someone as strong as Red, he’d finally deserve the same praise from the grand Professor Oak.

…

But at least Squirtle had finally evolved.

Actually, on their way to Vermilion, Rattata and Abra had evolved, too.

Wartortle had beamed with something like pride, and Green happily groomed his pokémon’s almost wavy tail, babbling something that resembled praise from his mouth. He couldn’t ever repeat it, though, because he hardly remembered what he had said, just that he was proud, and that he loved Wartortle.

Raticate’s whiskers twitched as Green told him how much he loved him, and that unfortunately the pokémon couldn’t ride on his shoulder anymore.

But the rat’s fur was still as soft as the day before, when Green had brushed the tangles out, and it seemed that Raticate was just as pleased.

He said the same to Kadabra - who finally knew offensive moves - that he was so very proud.

…And was instantly treated to a soft voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Kadabra’s call.

He was convinced that he was losing his mind, but Kadabra had only smiled - then the voice was back - saying that they were proud of him, too. He had allowed them all to evolve, and that was something, wasn’t it?

(He didn’t cry. He didn’t. …Alright, so maybe he bawled like a baby about it. But he wasn’t telling Red or Gramps or even Daisy that he had. Though he loved and appreciated his pokémon’s support.)

Battling Surge was hard.

Not too bad, honestly, but Green kept reminding himself that he really shouldn’t reach for Wartortle’s ball, since the water type would have been obliterated in the gym. Same with Pidgeotto.

But shockingly - and no, Surge, that was not an intentional pun, he swore - Kadabra and Raticate had really been the stars.

Kadabra had brought down two pokémon on his own before finally getting knocked out by the raichu, who was just too fast.

But Raticate seemed to take that personally, since the last time they fought a pikachu he had been knocked out in just seconds.

He knew the raichu was fast, but Raticate really gave the mouse a run for its money.

(Quite literally, considering that it was Surge’s last pokémon.)

For a horrible moment, when the raichu used thunderbolt, he had been convinced that Raticate was done for.

But somehow - he had hung on, clamped into the raichu’s fur with his teeth.

And somehow, the hyper fang that he had landed just before the thunderbolt had managed to knock the raichu out cold.

…Green had never been prouder.

He showered both Raticate and Kadabra with praise, cooing over them in a manner that he was sure they appreciated.

They looked proud of themselves, as they should have.

Healing up and bolting to the ship, Green had never been more excited.

The S.S. Anne had been rumored to be the top luxury liner in all the seas, and he was going to be riding on it!

He even tracked down the captain, with help from the crew and other passengers - mostly the passengers, though - and spoke about teaching his pokémon the ability to cut down trees.

In the end, Green left with a copy of the disc to teach his pokémon the move, as well as Raticate’s whip-sharp tail being able to slice through anything.

Suddenly, Red was there.

Again.

Just as he was leaving the captain’s quarters.

He bragged to Red about having caught a bunch of pokémon, and challenged him to a battle.

With all of his pokémon having evolved, maybe this time would be different.

…He should’ve just kept his mouth shut.

It started off the same as always, Green supposed.

Kadabra knocked out the pikachu rather quickly, and Red scooped it up and returned it to its ball.

Kadabra dealt damage to the ivysaur, before fainting.

Pidgeotto knocked it out, and preened happily. But Green knew every fight of theirs was a nail-biter, even if sometimes it was more neck-and-neck, like this one.

Pidgeotto was knocked out by the opposing wartortle, and Green sent in his own Wartortle to bring down Red’s.

It worked, thank Arceus.

But Red’s charmeleon was stronger than Green remembered.

It beat Wartortle with hardly any effort. But at least his tough shell prevented him from getting hurt - what with those sharp claws on Charmeleon.

…

He only had Raticate left.

Green had yelled something encouraging, something akin to ‘I believe in you’, and watched Raticate fight tooth and nail to knock out Charmeleon.

He even dodged a strong ember, which Green was so proud of him for.

He had launched a tough-looking hyper fang, biting into Charmeleon’s neck, and the outraged cry from the lizard picked up into a loud screech as he flailed and tossed Raticate away from him.

…With his claws.

Oh, Arceus, no.

…

Because there, on the ground, breathing rapidly, was Raticate - blood pooling around him as his stomach was sliced open.

He clutched the rat to his chest, tossing money over his shoulder at Red, who he thought looked horrified.

But Green didn’t exactly have the time to check, nor did he care.

Raticate was going to die if he didn’t get back to a pokémon center.

He ran through the halls, screaming for help, trying to part the large crowd of people that milled about aimlessly.

If anyone treated pokémon on the boat, they’d be fine. Everything could work out.

…

But it wasn’t happening.

And Kadabra couldn’t teleport them very well. He had been knocked unconscious, and couldn’t battle, but teleportation wasn’t built for that.

It was made to get away quickly - which was what Green needed.

But Kadabra was still weak.

Green insisted that Kadabra teleport Raticate first, in short hopping distances to the Vermilion pokémon center, to try to get him there on time.

He handed the pokémon to his psychic type, and heard the soft chittering from Raticate.

There seemed to be something of an apology in his eyes, combined with a sincerity.

He didn’t know what the look meant, exactly, but he didn’t have much time to wonder.

“It’s ok,” he insisted, patting at Raticate’s soft fur and whiskers - whiskers that he only ever let Green touch, no one else.

“I love you, you did your very best. I’m not mad. Now go.”

If rats could smile, Raticate looked like he did.

And Kadabra was off.

Then it was just Green, trying not to bite his own fingernails clean off as he waited in the S.S. Anne, shirt stained and wet with his pokémon’s rapidly cooling blood.

…He was trying not to think about it.

And then Kadabra was back, giving him the same hopping teleportation as he gave to Raticate.

Green thanked him, and felt the pokémon behind him as he raced towards the desk, rapidly explaining the situation to the nurse.

She could probably tell already, what with his clothes the way they were, but he just…was a mess.

He was so anxious.

And then…

The worst news that he had ever heard.

…

It was too late.

Raticate hadn’t…made it.

The nurse had been saying something, something about how they had tried their best, they were so sorry, he just hadn’t made it in time, but -

Green stopped listening.

He just dropped to the floor of the pokémon center and wailed.

He knew he was probably disturbing other patrons, but couldn’t even find it in himself to care.

Kadabra, who had been beside him, patted his back slowly, and there was the sound of pokéballs opening. Two other warm bodies pressed up against him, and he recognized Wartortle’s soft tail against his side and Pidgeotto’s silky feathers on his back.

They had formed a little triangle around him, and all Green could do was cry.

At some point, one of the staff offered him a box of tissues, he remembered.

He took it, and used them, but went through almost the whole box in less than a minute.

Arceus.

How could he even begin to comprehend what had happened?

One minute, Green was beaming at Raticate for having cut through one of the bamboo stalks in the captain’s room, praising him. The next, he was challenging Red, watching the limp, bloody body of his pokémon hit the floor. And then - this.

…Arceus.

It had all…happened so fast.

Just two hours ago, Raticate was still alive, chittering softly at Green for eating a berry and not giving him one.

…Green wished he would have given the pokémon one.

Raticate didn’t deserve this.

He had walked up to Green of his own volition, had chosen Green as his trainer - not the other way around.

And what had Green done?

…Disappointed him. Hurt him.

Just like he did to everyone else.

Kadabra, likely having heard the thought, patted Green’s leg.

He told Green, in that same weird telepathic voice as before, that Raticate had been reassured by his words before they reached the pokémon center.

Raticate had loved him too, Kadabra assured, and that Green hadn’t let him down.

Pokémon were aware of the risks of battling, his psychic pokémon insisted. They knew the consequences of one bad strike. Usually, it passed without incident, but they knew that it still happened, sometimes.

And Raticate, according to Kadabra, hadn’t held Green at fault at all. Nor did he fault Charmeleon, as the lizard had looked surprised by the sharpness of his claws. Green wasn’t at all responsible, to Raticate.

…Somehow, all it did was make Green cry harder.

And yet…

He didn’t think that he would be able to hold Red and Charmeleon responsible, either.

Oh, he wanted to. Arceus, did he want to.

But…

That wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair to the charmeleon, who had looked shocked by how sharp his claws were, and the deep angle at which he had shoved Raticate back.

It wasn’t fair to Red, who had never ordered Charmeleon to kill Raticate.

…And it wasn’t fair to Raticate himself, who had apparently told Kadabra - and Green, by proxy - that he didn’t blame Green or Red for what had happened.

It was just a horrible accident.

…

As awful as it was, and as loath as he was to be separated from them, he knew his pokémon needed to heal.

So he forced them back in their balls, if only temporarily, to rest.

They hadn’t wanted to, probably noting his distress, but he insisted. The quicker that they were handed to the nurse, the quicker they could be given back.

In the end, he had called Gramps while getting his pokémon handed back to him.

…He wished that he hadn’t.

“I’m sorry, kid. It does happen, sometimes.” Yeah, Green got that, thanks. “You can get a new one, if it bothers you that badly?”

But…Green didn’t want a new one.

He wanted Raticate back.

No other raticate, despite their physical similarities, would ever have the personality that his raticate had had.

But Gramps didn’t seem to get that when he said it, and they hung up. Green wasn’t the least bit reassured.

He wished that his grandfather could have been a little bit more sympathetic, even if it was fake. Green just needed…support.

After that, he called Daisy, who was immediately more understanding, and Green wondered why he hadn’t just called her in the first place.

He knew that they had to move on eventually, and finally made their way to Lavender Town on foot.

It was for the best, anyways, he tried to rationalize, since he had to…

…

Had to leave Raticate there.

Gramps had said later that it wouldn’t set him back on his journey any, but for once, it was the last thing on Green’s mind.

Seeing the carved headstone placed down after Raticate had been placed there was really the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

Sure, Green had caught an exeggcute on the way over, who was bouncy and cheerful all the time.

Not only that, but Green had found a growlithe. The growlithe was apparently permanently excitable, and happy to see Green every time his pokéball was opened.

…Even though Green hadn’t taken them out as much as he thought he should have.

He was just…so tired.

He missed Raticate, and Gramps hadn’t been any help.

Why was he doing this, again?

…

He didn’t even know how long he sat there, staring at Raticate’s headstone, before hearing soft footsteps.

At first, he really didn’t think anything of it. People were here to visit their pokémon, too.

But the footsteps stopped near him, and didn’t move.

He had assumed that maybe their pokémon’s headstone was nearby, so he went to apologize, but glanced up, and -

…

And there was Red.

Green…hadn’t seen him since…

…since Raticate.

“What brings you here?” His tone was probably harsher than usual, not the smarmy voice that Red likely expected. “Your pokémon don’t look dead.”

Green saw the tiniest flinch on Red’s face, and told himself again to stop being a dick.

Red had certainly seen what Green had been staring at, and the look of apology on his face was clearer than any other expression Green had ever seen him make.

But Green just…he owed it to Raticate.

He stood, his knees wobbling slightly, and pulled a pokéball from his belt.

Green clearly saw Red war with himself - whether or not he could turn down a battle, since it was deemed impolite to do so; whether to offer Green a hand to stand, from the aborted hand movement - before finally snapping his fingers once.

The pikachu leapt off his shoulder, finally having stopped giving Green the same sympathetic look that its trainer had, and sparks flew from his cheeks.

Finally.

He lobbed Exeggcute’s pokéball, and the small grass type was pretty impressive against the pikachu, considering that Green hadn’t yet used much time to train him.

Even so, Exeggcute fainted pretty easily, despite the good fight he put up.

It wasn’t his fault, and Green whispered a reassuring apology as he recalled the new pokémon.

Pidgeotto, of all pokémon, burst from his ball before Green could call him, and shot Green a look.

Well. It wasn’t as if he was going to argue.

Pidgeotto wanted to battle? Alright.

And he managed to knock out the pikachu, through some aerial endeavors that Green still was impressed by, having - miraculously, if you asked Green - dodged thunderbolts.

Pidgeotto did some damage to the wartortle, before eventually being knocked down too.

Kadabra disposed of the wartortle, and was knocked out by the ivysaur.

Green ordinarily would’ve been concerned about losing with a type advantage like that so easily, but yeah…

He had learned long ago that Red wasn’t to be underestimated at any cost.

They just had to win.

They had to.

Growlithe was sent out next, and knocked out the ivysaur when he bit down on the other pokémon hard before it could get away, an ember stopping it entirely.

When he turned back to Green briefly with a lolling tongue and wagging tail, Green shouted praise.

It only made the puppy look even happier.

…And then Red sent out a snorlax, of all things.

How the hell?

But then, they were known for blocking roads. Red likely got into Lavender before Green did, finding one on the road, thanks to Green not exactly booking it here very quickly.

Growlithe put up a good fight, quite frankly, even managing to burn the snorlax, but the bigger pokémon was just too bulky for the puppy, who finally went down.

Green apologized again, and threw Wartortle’s ball.

Whether it was from rage or just understanding that Green wanted to win, a rather harsh, newly-learned skull bash sent the snorlax unconscious in just one hit.

Red looked…almost impressed, if the tiny quirk of his lips was anything to go by.

Or he was just mocking Green.

Either one.

…But why had he even noticed Red’s lips in the first place? Why did he care?

Whatever.

Wartortle’s water pulse did knock Charmeleon back, and from the particularly vicious yelling - and Red’s ashen face - Green was guessing that Wartortle had a few enlightening things to say about how Raticate had passed.

But sure enough, despite Wartortle’s rage - or perhaps because of it, since he was hardly keeping a cool head - Charmeleon knocked him out.

All Green did was apologize to the pokémon, pulling money from his belt and handing it to Red, turning away quickly.

It wasn’t Charmeleon’s fault, or even Red’s.

He just…

…

Green flopped back down, sitting with Raticate.

He had heard rumors that Team Rocket was around, those ridiculous people, but hadn’t really cared.

He didn’t care even now.

All his pokémon couldn’t even protect him, but he…couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t even protect Raticate, what did he need to be protected for? Green figured he could be at risk for a little while.

…But he wasn’t expecting Red to sit beside him, and instinctively, he tensed a bit before relaxing.

Red’s hand nudged his own, and Green felt something being pressed into his hand.

…Revives.

Five of them.

He turned to look at Red, but the other trainer was more focused on the headstone in front of them.

“I’m sorry,” was whispered, so soft that Green almost missed it.

…

And…

“Yeah. I know,” he nodded.

Because he did know.

Despite how much Green wished that he had his grandfather’s attention instead, Red wasn’t exactly the awful person that Green sometimes wished.

(It would be far easier to hate Red if he was an awful person. But he wasn’t.)

And he had already looked so sorry earlier, when looking at the headstone, when unsure whether he should even battle Green in the headspace that Green was in, clearly.

He had shown an apology even before Green had asked for one.

And even verbally given one.

So…even if it had been Red’s fault, which it wasn’t…

Yeah. Green knew.

“It’s not your fault,” Green shrugged, and despite his blasé attitude, he meant it.

Red gave him a side eye, and quirked an eyebrow, which Green actually smiled a little at.

Maybe he had been wrong about not being able to read Red anymore - because he still felt like he could read the guy as easy as when they had hung out every day after school.

“I mean it,” he insisted. “It’s not like you asked Charmeleon to hurt him. It…happens,” he choked, voice cracking on the last bit.

Because while he rationally knew that, he was still so, so upset.

And he couldn’t even yell at Red, or anyone - other than himself - because it wasn’t anyone else’s fault.

He felt his vision get blurry as he sat in front of the headstone, using the revives on his pokémon, who looked more chipper after the items were used.

Growlithe laid by his side, paw on his leg, begging for hand pats, apparently. The puppy’s tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth, and Green gave a small smile as he laid his hand in the pokémon’s soft fur.

He sighed, taking one last long look at Raticate’s place of rest, and stood.

“Thank you, Raticate,” he whispered, and knew that Red could likely hear him, but wasn’t overly concerned. This was for Raticate, after all, and not anyone’s business.

Not that Red seemed to care that Green was talking to his pokémon.

So he clicked his tongue a little at Growlithe, and the puppy set off to follow at his heels.

He would come back and spend some time with Raticate later.

But right now…

It was just too painful.

He couldn’t do it.

So he set off for Celadon, finally giving Growlithe and Exeggcute the time and training they deserved.

Exeggcute was peppy as always, though his heads tended to differ on how they felt at any given moment.

Green was just glad that they didn’t resent him for leaving them in their pokéballs.

Granted, yes, he had used them in battle, but that was different.

This was…he had never left the others in their balls outside of a battle for so long.

In hindsight, though, as Kadabra reassured him, it wasn’t that long, and they understood that he was still grieving.

It wasn’t as if he had left them for longer than a few days, at most.

Even so, he vowed that he’d make it up to them.

He let Exeggcute be a little prankster and scare the daylights out of some wild bellsprout - then told him off for scaring the bellsprout so badly that it stood stock still and wouldn’t move.

He gave Growlithe a little piece of burnt stick that he had found - though why exactly the puppy wanted it was beyond him - and the little orange pokémon trotted dutifully beside him the rest of the way to Celadon.

By the time they got to the heart of the city, Green really only had a few places he knew they had to visit in the city.

They started with the pokémon center, healing up before visiting the big department store nearby.

Wartortle, who had been walking beside him since they entered the store, cried out and stopped him once they got to a floor with stones.

And yeah, he had to hand it to his partner, that was a good idea.

He let both Growlithe and Exeggcute out of their balls, and checked if they would be alright evolving. He loved them too much - even if they were still new, but especially after what had happened to Raticate - to force them into a choice they didn’t want.

But they agreed without much fanfare, so he bought a fire and a leaf stone before pocketing them both.

He wasn’t planning on using them now, but maybe later.

When he reached the top of the department store, he saw what looked like a small house on the other side of a fence.

He…didn’t want to be rude and just…hop the fence, but it didn’t look to be private property, so there must have been another way in.

Green walked all the way back down, and saw what looked to be a path, connected to behind the pokémon center.

And well, what the hell.

They followed it, and Pidgeotto popped out of his ball to lead the way.

Sure enough, the back door opened.

And there, in the little house at the top, was a pokéball.

There was a little note next to the ball, with no one in sight.

‘I cannot care for this pokémon any longer. I fear, by the time someone reads this, that I will already be gone. I don’t have very long, nor do I have family to give this little baby to. In short, whoever finds this ball, this pokémon is yours, now, if you want to keep him. If not, please return him to the pokémon center nearby for rehoming. Thank you kindly.’

Which…was terribly sad, the longer Green considered it.

The way the person talked, it was as if…

…

Well.

He popped open the ball, and watched as a small, fluffy eevee materialized in front of him, blinking at him with big, bright eyes, tail waving gently.

Oh, Arceus.

Green…was instantly smitten.

This little cutie was the pokémon that was left behind?

…

He had an empty slot. He could raise the eevee.

…

But…

What about Raticate?

That had been Raticate’s spot in Green’s party.

It hardly felt fair to replace him, regardless of the hopeful, cautious look that the eevee was giving him.

And yet…

…

Green knew he was being ridiculous, but it felt as if Raticate had sent him in this direction on purpose.

A pokémon left behind while their trainer was…

And Raticate, ripped from this world a lot too soon for Green’s liking.

…

Alright.

Fine.

Maybe, somewhere, there was a trainer looking down on Green from above with Raticate beside them.

So Green clipped the ball to his belt, and saw the hope in the eevee’s eyes as he just walked back out and gestured for the eevee to follow him.

They ventured over to the game corner, and Green was so upset at seeing people make grabby hands towards Eevee that he threw the little brown pokémon onto his shoulder.

No one could steal his new Pokémon right off of his shoulder…hopefully.

As it was, Green wasn’t exactly winning anything, and he heard rumors that the place was run by Team Rocket, so he left before anything could go down.

He wasn’t looking to tempt fate by having an eevee in a place where Team Rocket supposedly owned. The normal gamblers were bad enough, imagine how awful the actual criminals would be.

So he left, and they entered the gym.

As usual, a piece of cake.

Grass types didn’t stand a chance against Pidgeotto and Growlithe, and yet another badge was obtained.

The eevee seemed happy enough to purr his pride from Green’s shoulder, and later, as they were on the road again, Green groomed the pokémon.

He was hardly a replacement for Raticate, but he still filled the empty party slot, so Green wasn’t complaining.

To be fair, in the few battles that Green had used him as of yet, the eevee was actually a good battler.

(It just confirmed Green’s theory that this must have been either a house pokémon or a trainer’s last battling pokémon, kept for security, before the trainer passed on.)

And Eevee wasn’t the only one battling.

Wartortle and Pidgeotto had evolved as soon as Green took three steps onto the new route, and he was beaming with pride.

Blastoise and Pidgeot, as they were now, looked mighty proud of themselves. Green was proud of them, too.

Saffron City, at least, was beautiful.

He figured that they could start with the gym, get some battling in before trying to venture into Silph Co.

Which…was looking like a disaster, honestly.

Crushing Sabrina was almost too easy.

Eevee knew bite, and he was too pleased with showing off to even be recalled until about halfway through the battle.

At some point, Kadabra had battled, just briefly, and after the battle, Sabrina gave a rare-looking smile.

“If you’d like, I can temporarily trade with you. My Alakazam evolved from Kadabra when he was traded from another trainer. I’ll give him right back, if you’d like to evolve him?”

And…

Well.

Kadabra had seemed pleased by the offer, so Green agreed.

And then, minutes later, he had a newly evolved Alakazam in his arsenal.

He was so proud of all of his pokémon.

In hindsight, he realized after he left Celadon that he didn’t have a stone to give to Eevee, but that was alright.

He didn’t mind.

Battling through Silph Co. was the same as always.

He ran into Red again, who had a lapras as his sixth pokémon.

Green had long since given up asking how exactly Red got all these rare pokémon, and where he even got them.

But Eevee had been chomping at the bit to battle Pikachu, and Green allowed him.

Eevee lost, and was clearly disheartened about it later, but Green wasn’t too concerned.

The little furball had just mopped the floor with a bunch of psychic type gym trainers, and even the gym leader. Green wasn’t worried if Eevee hadn’t beaten the pikachu.

He continued battling his way through the region, growing closer to his pokémon, finally evolving Growlithe and Exeggcute into their final forms with the help of the stones.

There were always some things that would never change though - Exeggutor was still an awful prankster, and Arcanine was always ready to play, still a puppy at heart.

Eevee, though, had become one of his best buds.

Not that he didn’t love all of his pokémon, because he did.

But something about the little fluffball that had been left without a proper family just…struck home.

Green hadn’t felt like anywhere was home for quite a while, frankly.

…And he was coming to the conclusion that the eevee hadn’t either, before Green started training him.

Without Daisy and Red in Pallet Town, it was as if there was nothing there for Green.

But Gramps was counting on him - them - to fill up the Pokédex, so he’d try. He’d do whatever it took.

By the time they had gotten through to Cinnabar, and were almost at the point where they could challenge Blaine, Green stopped, figuring they could do it in the morning.

They had been through a lot, his pokémon and he. Green wouldn’t change it for the world, though.

Eevee had popped out of his ball to sit with Green, and mumbled something sleepily that made Green smile and run a hand through the silky fur.

Once, a trainer had remarked that Eevee was particularly well-trained, and looked amazing, what with the groomed fur and tail.

Green had agreed secretly, and just nodded.

Had he been prepared for Eevee to sit up, while they watched the ocean, meet his eyes, and start glowing?

No.

But then, something was happening - Green had no idea it was even possible.

Even without a stone, Eevee…was evolving.

And when all was said and done, there was a black, sleek figure sitting where Eevee once had, cooing at Green.

He…well, it was clearly still his Eevee, or an evolution of him.

But Green had no idea what this pokémon even was.

Or what his type was.

Not ghost, surely. He looked too solid for that.

Alakazam’s voice pierced through his mind, telling him that he believed this was an umbreon - confirmed by the pokémon himself braying when Alakazam said it to Green.

Though Alakazam did admit that he had trouble getting into this umbreon’s mind, and there only ever was one type of pokémon that could do that to him - dark types.

Green hadn’t ever heard of that.

Alakazam did specify that Bré - Green figured a nickname was in order, what with the new species name - had been so happy before he evolved.

So terribly pleased by the feeling of friendship between him and Green.

It wasn’t exactly a confirmation, but it was as good as one.

Bré had evolved because he adored his friendship with Green so much?

Arceus.

As it was, trying to learn techniques and moves from the pokémon himself - who had some basic instinctual knowledge of his new moves and advantages after evolving - was, at best, challenging.

At worst, near a shitshow.

But it was fine!

He was honored that Bré had evolved the way he had, and was pleased to have such a rare Pokémon with him in a region where dark types weren’t that prevalent.

So battling all the way to Viridian, and finally getting the eighth gym badge?

Green was so pleased. All of his pokémon had evolved, and they were his proudest, most loyal companions.

He met Red one last time on the route near Victory Road, and…still got defeated.

But it was close, perhaps the closest it had ever been.

So Green wasn’t worried.

He was going to go be the best trainer there was, then Gramps would see.

Besides, showing Bré off to Red and seeing the bewilderment on the other’s face was the most hysterical thing he had seen all day.

Bré did beat the pikachu, this time.

So he headed to the pokémon league.

…And beat the Elite Four.

That was…astounding.

He was the new pokémon league champion?

Green…couldn’t believe it.

He held his pokéballs in his hands, and clipped them all on his belt after recalling them all.

Arceus.

How was this possible?

…

He sent a quiet thank you to Raticate, whom Green was sure was watching him from above.

Raticate would have been on his team, here.

Bré had taken his party slot, but not the one in Green’s heart.

Some part of Green would always miss Raticate, he knew that. There was a special place for the brave little mouse turned fearsome rat that had walked right up to Green in Mt. Moon that day.

It had only been maybe an hour or two - Green had to wait to have his credentials recorded, apparently, since only Professor Oak could do that, which Green found fitting - before Red showed up.

And yeah, Green was boasting about being the most powerful trainer in the world.

Because for all of his grandfather’s favoritism, Green had gotten here first. There was no changing that now.

But he knew he was obligated to take Red’s challenge, and gave him a smirk.

Shockingly - or not, considering - all Red did was smirk back.

That was the first time in a long time that Green felt like they were just little kids again, playing with toys and other adults’ pokémon in the lab.

He…kind of missed it.

Not the scenario, just…the closeness.

He had his pokémon now, and he loved them for it, but he would always miss having Red as his friend.

After all, it wasn’t as if he had made any other human friends on his journey. Not really.

Battling…went the same as it always did.

Neck and neck, blow by agonizing blow…

…

They were tied.

Bré and Pika - as Green had finally learned the pikachu’s nickname - had both fallen unconscious at once.

It was just Blastoise left.

And Red’s Charizard.

It took Green back instantly to battling at the lab, that first day.

He said as much to Red, who gave him a grin.

And then…

Well.

Blastoise held on as long as he could.

Green would never be mad at him.

But it had always been true that Red and Charizard had always just been…the smallest bit stronger.

So…

…

Green lost.

“You’re the new Pokémon League Champion,” Green grumbled. “Though I don’t like to admit it…”

But he…wasn’t all that upset.

(Sure, he was. He wanted Gramps’ approval, after all.)

It had never been an attainable goal to say that he would be champion forever.

He…knew how good Red was with pokémon.

It really had been only a matter of time.

But still! He could get his name recorded, and -

“Red!”

…

Gramps!

…

He was…greeting Red?

Green had recalled Blastoise, and had been speaking with Red, but both of them had flinched a little at the loud, exuberant, exultant tone in Gramps’ voice.

“So you’ve won! Congratulations! You’ve come such a long way since leaving Pallet with Charmander!”

It…was making Green physically ill.

Why was Red getting all the praise? Sure, he had beaten Green, but…

Green had become the new champion first.

Dammit, he had finally done what he had set out to do.

“Green,” Gramps turned to him, the kind and warm expression melting off his face into something stern.

He froze like he was seven again, being scolded for trying to play with other trainers’ pokémon at the lab without permission.

“I’m disappointed.”

…What?

“I came right away when I heard that you had beaten the Elite Four!”

Green…had never challenged his grandfather in his life. But…he had called Gramps when he had won, asking him to please visit, called himself the best, and waited to be authenticated by his grandfather himself.

He had waited two whole hours.

Even on the back of a Fearow instead of a Pidgeot, it…wouldn’t have taken two hours, if Gramps had left when Green had called.

“But when I got here, you had already lost. Do you understand why?”

…Because Red was terrifyingly good with his pokémon, no matter what Green himself often said to snark at the other trainer?

“You have forgotten to treat your pokémon with trust and love.”

“What?!”

Gramps held up a hand, as if Green was being insubordinate, and instinctively, Green clamped his jaw shut, hating how he obeyed so easily in the face of the man whom he always had admired.

“Without those traits, you will never become a champ again,” he continued, before turning to Red.

Red, at least, looked bizarrely uncomfortable at seeing the awkward exchange, followed by the weird smile that the professor turned back on when facing the other trainer - his ‘favorite grandson’.

“Red, the bond you share with your pokémon is marvelous. You understand that the victory was not just your own doing. Come with me!”

Professor Oak was already walking over to the far room, presumably where Green had been going to have his name recorded.

And…

Fuck it.

“Gramps!”

It didn’t really make the man stop walking, but at least Green had gotten Red’s attention.

“You were meant to record my team there, too. I…know you’ll never be proud of me. But…dammit, Gramps, Blastoise and the others deserve their hard work written down. They’ve been so good to me, they deserve at least that much.”

Red had nodded at him, as if he understood something, and turned back to see Professor Oak having stopped at the doorway.

He didn’t even turn around.

“I never said that I wasn’t proud of you,” the man just frowned, and Green froze again. Because Gramps had never specified that he was proud, either, despite the insinuation. This was…an awful guilt trip if there ever was one. “And if your pokémon worked that hard, maybe now you’ll treat them with more trust and love, now that you’ve seen what they’ll do for you. Do excuse us.”

Red looked like he had his lips pursed into a line, but Green just screamed after Gramps.

That wasn’t fair.

The only reason that his pokémon had gotten this far with him was because of their bond, how could Gramps even say that?

…And apparently, if Alakazam was to be believed - and Green absolutely believed him - then Bré had only evolved at all because he adored Green’s friendship.

He had been so proud of Bré.

Had wanted to show him off to Gramps.

…

Not now.

Hell no.

Not anymore.

Bré was staying with him, where it was safe, and far, far away from the lab where Oak may want to keep him to study.

Absolutely not.

So Green just…left.

Went home.

Cried.

A lot.

Mostly to Daisy. Or just to himself and his pokémon, in his room.

That lasted for…probably a week.

He couldn’t handle that.

Green had finally had everything he had wanted.

He wanted so badly to hold it against Red, but…he couldn’t.

It had been an inalienable fact that Red was good with pokémon, for whatever the reason, ever since they were kids. Could just connect with them better, or something.

Green still thought that his bond with his team was impressive, considering that he wasn’t Red, not by any means.

But according to Gramps, he was either Red, or he was nobody.

Figured.

There was something rapping on his window, one night, and Green brushed it off at first.

Probably just a late pidgey or some zubat trying to get into his room.

And yeah, he had caught those pokémon.

…He couldn’t even complete the Pokédex for Gramps, since Red had apparently found those legendary birds too.

So he couldn’t even be of use.

The tapping noise continued, and Green begrudgingly got up to look out the window.

He had to tiptoe over Arcanine, who had been asleep at the side of his bed to keep him company, despite the dog’s large size.

And there, beneath his window from two stories down, was Red - getting ready to throw another pebble at his window just as he opened it.

There was an almost sheepish grin on his face, even as Green hissed, “This isn’t the Safari Zone!”

Still, Red gestured for Green to come down, so he did, only bringing Bré with him.

The dark eeveelution was technically nocturnal, after all, but his circadian rhythms had been disrupted by being a trained pokémon who was typically fighting during the day.

Regardless, the rings on Bré’s body glowed a bright yellow, and Pika seemed happy enough to see the umbreon, so Green let them play.

“What?”

He didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but genuinely had no idea what Red even wanted.

“Come with me somewhere?”

“Why, gonna murder me in the grass after disposing of my only pokémon on hand?”

Red rolled his eyes at the remark, and Green smirked.

He had forgotten how…refreshing it felt to just joke with Red without their animosity.

…That he still needed to apologize for. Right.

“Listen, I - ”

“Tell me on the way,” Red insisted, quietly allowing Charizard out of his ball. “Grab your pokémon.”

Green wanted to bitch, but…

…

Fine.

What else did he have to lose?

So he dressed more appropriately for the weather, recalled Arcanine, and grabbed the others’ pokéballs - recalling Bré as he did so.

Pidgeot was a little disgruntled at having been awoken in the middle of the night, but when Green apologized, all he did was stretch his wings in a gentle coo.

Green would forever be grateful.

Especially since they hadn’t had much time to train or exercise, given that Green had been cooped up in his room sobbing for a week.

…And despite what Gramps had claimed, none of them had left his side.

He had tried to get them to at least go eat without him, but they had adamantly refused.

Let Gramps suck on that one, he supposed.

Even so, Green really hadn’t been prepared to land at the Pokémon League in the middle of the night.

“Red?”

Because really.

Why…were they here?

“Just come with me, and don’t ask questions until I say you can.”

…Getting weirder.

But Charizard just huffed approvingly, breathing warm air onto Green, and kept a watchful eye around the entrance.

So fine.

He’d do as he was asked.

…And he would ignore the warmth in his stomach at the idea that Red had dragged him here, by himself, in the middle of the night.

He had a feeling he knew what the supposed butterfree were for, and he didn’t think he liked it. So yeah, he just…ignored those. Totally not butterfree.

And then…there was the champion’s room.

But Red apparently wasn’t stopping to chat, having used some new feature in his pokédex to open the door.

“Red, what - ”

“It’s from your grandfather,” he answered, apparently having decided that now was an alright time to answer questions. “From the league. Special champion privileges, apparently.”

Right.

“I can look into the Hall of Fame whenever.”

Of course he could.

Green was hardly seeing why he needed to be here for this overt bragging session.

But Red just gestured towards the small electronic table in the center, hooked up to a screen. The table had six little divots, like for pokéballs.

“I can also edit the records at any time. They didn't think to remove that little perk.”

…

…

Ok?

Green raised an eyebrow; Red just rolled his eyes again and gestured towards the table.

Truly, the sleep deprivation must have been driving them both nuts.

Because, it almost seemed like…

…

Oh.

Like Red was…trying to make Green enter his pokéballs into the system.

“Why?”

He suddenly felt like he was choking, and Red just reached for one of his hands, tugging him closer to the table.

Green ignored how warm Red’s hand felt against his own.

“You deserve it. You won, before I did, no matter what the professor says. And I know Bré evolved because he cares for you. He said so.”

…

‘Said so’?

…

Yeah, that would explain a lot.

Like the smiles and conversations that Green always felt were very one-sided.

Because they were one-sided - to Green.

“It’s not fair for him to not record you because he was mad, or something.”

Green knew he couldn’t refuse the offer, but felt a stinging laugh bubble its way from his chest, sharp and barbed and bleeding all the way up.

“He’s not mad,” Green shrugged, feeling too much like his grandfather in that moment. “He’s just always loved you more.”

Red flinched, tightening his grip on Green’s hand.

And again, Green did not want to consider why his heart was pounding.

“I never meant for that to happen,” Red was apologetic, and honestly, that was even worse.

Especially since Red hadn’t talked this openly with him - or, Green was starting to suspect, anyone - in years.

“I know that,” Green chewed on his lip, feeling the pokéballs on his belt wiggle a little at the electronic table being right there.

“But…if you’re really offering…”

Red only nodded again, smile on his face as he let go of Green’s hand finally.

…It was the highlight of Green’s life to see all of his pokémon’s images on the screen, along with a small digital image of his own.

He glanced over to the walls, and saw the old champion’s pictures.

And right there, in the newest slot, was Red’s.

“I’ll put it above mine, if that’s ok.”

Of course it was ok.

Arceus.

He had done this for Green? Unauthorized editing of the records to ensure that Green’s name and pokémon were still recorded, even if Gramps wouldn’t do it himself?

…How could he ever repay Red for this?

When he had asked as much, the other trainer only shrugged.

“Not doing it for payment,” he brushed off, and Green understood, but still wasn’t happy with the answer.

“I know, obviously, but I have to do something. I wouldn’t feel right just…not doing anything.”

Red glanced at him, seeming to study him for a moment, before tilting his head a little.

“Keep a secret for me, then.”

“Anything,” he nodded, knowing that for Red, it really would be anything at all.

“I’m headed to Mt. Silver. Tomorrow morning. Or, well, today. Don’t tell anyone.”

…

“What?! The hell, Red?!?”

Red only pulled the hat down onto his head, and Charizard gave a low rumbling once they were outside.

He had no idea what it was that the pokémon was trying to convey, but Red only sighed and muttered an ‘I know’ towards the big, winged lizard.

“Sorry. I know it’ll make everyone worry. But you should be fine.”

Fine?

That was the last thing on his mind.

His childhood best friend - still his friend, his only friend, his rival, of all things - was going onto a dangerous mountain of his own accord, and hadn’t bothered to tell anyone?

What if he was killed?

“Not me, idiot, what about you? When are you coming back?”

The lack of response…was a response in and of itself.

“Arceus. You…weren’t going to tell me?”

“Why would I? I’ve caused your life to go downhill, and you hadn’t been the friendliest before we got to Lavender.”

Green felt his face pull into a grimace, and had to face the fact that Red was right, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

But…

“You just recorded me as a champion. I think you’re the furthest thing from making my life go downhill at the moment,” he smirked, and it made Red nod at him a little.

“I am sorry about Lavender. And before that. It isn’t an excuse, but - ”

“You wanted him to notice you.”

…

“…Yeah. I did,” Green mumbled.

“I get it,” Red nodded. “It hurt, but I…get it. Especially looking back on it now. He never really was as nice to you as he was to me. For the longest time I thought maybe I was just imagining things, since you two are family.”

“Please,” Green snorted. “He’s not my family. Not really. He doesn’t care about me. And there’s more to family than blood.”

The sentiment must have registered with the other, because all Red did was hum softly.

“I know,” the new champion smiled a little.

Something about the feeling of warmth and familiarity in his chest, or maybe the brightness of Red’s eyes, or the soft chuffing of Charizard beside them - it made up Green’s mind for him.

“I’ll keep your secret. But I want to come visit every week or so. I won’t tell anyone where you are, but I want to know you’re alright. More than just a letter.”

Red seemed…surprised, and frankly, Green was too.

He had never been as kind and worried over Red as he was currently being, at least not since they were kids.

And yet…

Red just shrugged.

“Ok,” he allowed. “I promise I’ll send you a letter tomorrow as soon as I’m settled.”

This was, as Green remembered, easily the most that Red had ever talked in such a long time - and considered himself lucky that the other trainer was still willing to talk with him after everything.

So…that’s what they did.

Pidgeot had alerted Green to the letter, and Green promptly set off for Mt. Silver as soon as he got the location set - and immediately asked Arcanine to burn the letter.

It might have been a bit extreme, but he wanted, deep down, to ensure that he kept his promise.

No one would know where Red was, if Green could help it.

…Though he did feel a stab of guilt at the idea that Red’s mother had no idea.

But…Red wasn’t in danger yet, or anything. And Green had made a promise. So he’d honor it for as long as he was physically able.

Getting to Mt. Silver was easy enough.

Traversing the rough terrain?

…Yikes.

No wonder Red had wanted to train here.

It was certainly filled with enough tough pokémon to battle here for years and never leave the mountain.

…He hoped that the exact scenario that just crossed his mind wasn’t what Red had planned.

But at least Bré and the others were enjoying the snow.

Pidgeot and Exeggutor loved the weather a lot less so, which Green understood.

By the time he had reached the top of the mountain, it was the middle of the day, and right in the center of the clearing was a bright fire.

Not just any fire.

Charizard’s tail flame.

Red just tilted his hat a little, and Green felt the weird thumping in his chest again, and opted to ignore it one more time.

The other trainer had seemed a little surprised when Green handed him a bag of supplies, mostly food and better, warmer clothes than the ones Red had on.

Bré had been batting at Charizard’s tail to play - with essentially no self-preservation - but Pika had leapt down to try to tackle the bigger umbreon, so Bré got his wish for a playmate after all.

“Call me if you need anything,” Green said, pulling his eyes away from their pokémon.

“I will.”

Green just nodded, whistling for Bré to follow as he pulled out Pidgeot’s pokéball now that it had finally stopped snowing so hard.

“Green,” the voice from behind him called, and he steadfastly ignored the weird tightness in his chest.

He turned to look, and saw Red giving a small, almost vulnerable smile.

“Thank you. I…couldn’t stay any longer.”

But Green just nodded, telling him that he understood.

Because, yeah.

Nobody had told Green - or Red, apparently, for that matter - that being the Champion was more than just being the strongest.

They also had to handle disagreements or political issues that arose throughout the region.

But they were still young.

How the hell were they meant to do that?

Plus, if Red had been Gramps’ favorite - which he absolutely was - then why didn’t Gramps tell him that he would be dealing with that shit?

Green knew that his grandfather never would have told him.

He…was slowly coming to terms with that, even if he still wasn’t over it.

Just because he was coming to that realization did not mean that he had to like it.

But still.

That was a lot of pressure to put on Red.

And that was unfair.

So Green…didn’t tell anybody where Red had gone.

He kept visiting his friend - now that Green had stopped actively antagonizing him, anyways, it had always been very one-sided - despite everyone wanting to know where the Champion was.

(Red apologized for making him keep that secret, and Green brushed it off. It really was the least he could do.

He apologized again for hurting Red, and got an acceptance, followed by forgiveness later on. Green didn’t think he deserved it.

Red insisted that he did, if only because Green’s dedication to Red’s want for inattention had proved that Green wasn’t going to snitch and turn on Red again any time soon.

Not ever, if Green could help it. Never again.)

But what Green really hadn’t been expecting had been Gramps, of all people, to be nearly frantic by the idea that Red was missing.

“Green,” he huffed one day, looking out of breath as he caught up to Green outside of the lab. Exeggutor, who had been walking with him, narrowed his eyes.

Though Exeggutor’s ability to communicate with Green wasn’t quite as refined as Alakazam’s, he was still able to show Green pictures of what he was seeing from Oak.

…Green was horrified.

Gramps had been looking for Red…because the trainer was the Champion. That was true.

But it wasn’t because he was worried.

Well. He was worried, but not necessarily about Red.

He was worried about himself.

…Apparently, according to the images from Exeggutor - and a confirmation from the wispy voice in his head that belonged to Alakazam - Gramps was only concerned because of politics.

Red was still young, as was Green. In this case, either champion would have been given an advisor to run political plans by, in the event of an emergency. Especially because they were considered inexperienced, someone like Oak - who had practically raised them, and was good with pokémon and politics - would have been a perfect choice for advisor.

Whether Red had chosen Oak himself, or Oak had asked Red directly if he could be involved, Green wasn’t sure.

But he couldn’t dispute that Oak was Red’s political advisor.

And with Red missing, the championship would automatically defer to the previous winner if he wasn’t found for so long.

So Gramps was after Green because of that?

“Where is Red? Do you know? He hasn’t been at the league in quite some time, I’m worried for his health.”

…Was he now.

Knowing that Green had two psychic types - one of which was actively walking beside him - that lie wasn’t a smart move.

But then, Oak looked terribly flustered.

And clearly, had not found Red.

Thank Arceus.

“No, sorry Gramps. I assumed he was at the league. I’ve been too busy traveling and training to pay any attention to where he ended up,” Green shrugged.

Technically, that was only a half lie. He had been busy traveling - to Mt. Silver - and training - with Red.

Not that he was planning on telling Oak that.

“Of course you don’t,” Oak sniffed, looking away. “Why couldn’t you just be useful for once? Red was your friend, you know. You could at least offer to look.”

…Green did not appreciate the weird gaslighting.

Besides, Red still was his friend.

Gramps didn’t know that, though.

“Fine, fine,” he waved a hand dismissively, as though he was blowing the man off. Green practically saw a vein burst in Oak’s forehead. “I don’t make any promises that I’ll find him, though.”

But Oak looked relieved, so Green supposed that he was off the hook.

…And…thinking about it, that was probably why he hadn’t cornered Green to try to be his advisor in an emergency - he had never recorded Green as a champion, so he had no idea that his grandson was listed as the former champ right before Red.

Whoops?

…

Not his problem.

At any rate, he had bigger issues.

Like why when he laid in bed at night did he worry so much about Red’s safety.

Red was a big boy, he could handle himself. Plus, his pokémon were strong, clearly.

There wasn’t much danger to a trainer as tough as Red, Green assured himself, petting Bré’s ears as the umbreon had fallen asleep half on top of him.

…So why was he worried?

Why did he care?

Obviously he didn’t want Red to be hurt, but…well.

All of his pokémon were out of their pokéballs to sleep, at least that night, and Green was glad.

He was having a crisis.

The issue was that the longer he thought about it, the more he considered that he was drawn to Red’s bright eyes or his dark hair - that he kind of wanted to run his hands through again, like when they were younger.

…But also, not like that. Like…

…

Arceus.

Like he had seen other trainers do at night, in alleyways, when they thought no one was looking.

And…Red really was…physically attractive. Green guessed. He wouldn’t really know.

(Yes, he would.)

And Red was kind with his pokémon, and smart, and…

…

And Gramps was going to kill Green.

Because never, in all this time, had Green focused on anyone else other than Red.

Not even to marry or have children.

He…hadn’t even looked towards a girl and thought, ‘wow, I think she’s so cool,’ or ‘she’s so pretty,’ or even just ‘yeah, I’d tap that.’

Which…

Was concerning.

A bit.

(A lot.)

Because…

Green had, at some point or another - including just right now, for that last one - thought those exact things for Red.

Red would not be pleased if he knew.

Hell.

Gramps was going to murder him if he ever found out, let alone Red.

Green would be dead five times before Red even found out and got here to kill him.

Ugh.

Arceus.

Alakazam, who had likely awoken at his panicked thoughts - given that they had been together for so very long that the pokémon could hear his thoughts at practically all times - just nodded at him.

He told Green, in that head voice of his, that while it was typical for pokémon to mate with members of the opposite sex in the same species, sometimes that didn’t happen. Sometimes they chose partners of the same sex. In some very rare cases, such as with ditto, they even mated outside of their species. What did choosing a partner of the same sex matter?

It was…oddly reassuring, but only for a moment.

Because the truth was, he wasn’t a pokémon.

For people…

Sometimes, especially for people as old-school as Oak was, people were shamed for it.

For even thinking about it, let alone actually doing it.

And being shamed was a best case scenario.

(Green could easily imagine being disowned from the Oak name if Gramps found out.)

Alakazam, despite the calm look on his face, felt like he was frowning in his voice.

He felt that it wasn’t fair that humans felt that way, even if it was only some humans.

…Frankly, Green agreed.

And promptly burst into sobs, worried about Daisy, too.

Arceus.

What would Daisy think? That her brother was…

…

Ah. Fuck.

And he had woken up the others too, from his loud crying, but all they did was cuddle closer, as close as they could, anyways.

…If that truly was love, the good platonic kind, then Green had never adored them more.

Even if he was in the middle of a nervous breakdown about wanting to kiss the shit out of Red, make his mouth turn that pretty color of his eyes.

Ugh.

Daisy had knocked on the door, then, and eventually Green spluttered out an explanation that ended in babbling and blubbering tears.

“I’m sorry,” he wailed, hot tears streaming down his face and dripping into Bré’s fur - who was still resting protectively on his lap. “I’m so sorry.”

But Daisy…

Just gave him a hug.

Told him that it was fine. That if he loved Red, he was allowed to feel like that.

Green choked a little when she said love, but knew that she meant it as a reassurance more than something to scare him.

So he just nodded.

She left, but came back with a glass of water, which startled a laugh from him.

His sister didn’t hate him, then.

That was…

More than he could have ever hoped for.

He felt ridiculous.

Especially the next time he went to visit Red, who just casually nudged Green’s arm a bunch and looked confused when Green’s face burst into flames.

He was not going to tell Red that he adored the guy’s skill with pokémon, that he thought Red was sweet and helpful. That he thought that Red was the best person on the whole planet, the only one who had ever given a damn about him - pokémon notwithstanding, of course.

But sometimes, when Green was there at night, and their pokémon were either playing amongst themselves or asleep in the little cave that Red had made his own, Red would lean against him.

Once, just once, Green pressed his luck a little.

Asked Red if he was cold, and when the trainer said yes, looped an arm over Red’s shoulders and rubbed gently at the other’s arm.

It got a shiver in return, and Green felt bad that Red must have been that cold.

…But whenever he was away from Red, the warm heart pounding sensation he usually had was replaced with a cold sensation of equal magnitude.

Gramps continued to ask where Red was.

Green just…tried to ignore it.

But…he knew he had made a mistake once when he let Bré out near the lab, the umbreon running back to Green when he saw the pokéball outstretched in Oak’s hand.

Bré was smart, Green would give him that.

Had Gramps been planning to try to catch Bré?

…He supposed that it would make sense, especially if Gramps had never seen one before.

“Green! This is your Pokémon?”

A little less awe and wonder would be nice. Or even just a tone that was impressed and not astonished.

“Yeah. This is Bré,” he shrugged, trying to walk away. “We’ll be going.”

“Wait! What type is he? What did he evolve from? Did he evolve from something? Please, Green, let me study him,” Oak was begging, hands clasped together near his knees.

Once upon a time, Green would have been proud to show Bré to Oak.

But…

“No thanks, Gramps. He hates that.”

A partial lie, since Green couldn’t confirm or deny that Bré hated being tested on or studied, but he had a good hunch that he was right.

After all, what person would enjoy being subjected to what they would have been subjecting the umbreon to, if Green had said yes?

So despite Gramps’ best efforts, Green wiggled them both out of it, and went to talk to Red.

Red seemed as disturbed as he had been.

“Because he’s a researcher? Maybe?”

Green just shrugged, watching Bré try to playfully nip at Pika’s tail.

“Maybe. It was…weird. Like he wanted more information and was more upset than just a researcher when I told him no.”

Red only hummed, leaning on Green a bit.

Green adamantly fought back the flush to his cheeks at the now-familiar sensation.

“Besides, you know how he can be. So you really aren’t planning on coming back to reclaim that politics shitshow?”

Red smacked Green in the chest at his use of crass language to describe the position, making Green snort.

Because really.

“You know I’m not,” Red only shrugged. “You take it, if you want it.”

But Green only sighed, feeling his shoulder press against Red’s as they watched the pokémon play.

(Green usually had daily or weekly battles with Red whenever Green found the time to visit. He hadn’t beaten Red yet, not even once, but it was always super close every time. …He couldn’t be mad about it anymore.)

And if he was being honest, Green had only wanted to be the best battler if it meant having Gramps’ attention. Being a researcher would be kind of cool - not that he was copying his grandfather for that one, though.

Not that he would mind a job where he could just battle with his pokémon all day, of course, but where was he going to find a job like that unless it was the champion?

Besides, he had awful wanderlust.

He couldn’t be chained down so easily.

…It was ironic, then, that the league had contacted him later that week.

They asked him if he would be willing to reprise his role as Champion, since Red couldn’t be contacted to continue his political campaign, but Green respectfully turned it down.

(He also learned that technically, they couldn’t strip Red of his title officially - since no one had beaten him in an official match, after all - just politically. That was funny, in Green’s opinion.)

When he refused, they instead offered him a job as the new gym leader for Viridian, since Giovanni had just up and disappeared too.

(Everyone knew the truth - Giovanni had been leading Team Rocket, but everyone seemed to just turn a blind eye to that. So Green would do the same.)

Green knew he couldn’t turn it down, so he accepted.

At least the money would be more consistent than the challenges he got from other trainers in the region.

Normally, people wanted to battle him, especially when they learned that he used to be the champion, but very quickly realized what that meant.

…Blastoise could usually curbstomp them with just one attack.

And suddenly, there went half of Green’s challengers.

But some of them were always willing to stick it out and accept a challenge, anyways. He always admired their guts.

Secretly, those were the trainers that reminded Green of himself, trying to battle Red.

It was tenacity personified, and Green appreciated the attempt.

The only drawback of the gym gig was that he actually had to be there at least half the time in order to actually take on challengers.

When he wasn’t at the gym, the aforementioned wanderlust would usually take effect - leading right back to, you guessed it, Mt. Silver.

He bemoaned to Red once about the snotty little kids - it had somehow been over a year since they had completed their journeys through the region and ended up in their current predicament.

Red always found it amusing.

Green loved that it made Red laugh, so he always made sure to be overly dramatic and eccentric on purpose.

What he never admitted to Red was that he felt as if the other trainer was the only one capable of really challenging him and his team - that Red really was his first and only formidable rival, regardless of how good of friends they were now.

There were always a few trainers who managed to slip past Green, but not nearly enough to yield a high turnover.

So…maybe Green was crushing them a little too well.

But hey, if the Elite Four didn’t want him to reduce the league’s number of challengers, why’d they make him gatekeeper of the final gym like that?

Green also learned that Lance - originally from Johto, apparently - had stepped back up to be the champion, and hadn’t minded the brief break he had been using while Red and Green were milling about.

Later, though, for as weird as Lance could sometimes be, Green found him to be rather nice. He admitted that the champion responsibility was a lot to place on a couple of teens, and that the political ties should never have been written into the rules in the first place.

Green was all for it, but it really begged the question, then - why were they?

And who had written them?

…

Green had a feeling he knew exactly who, when he woke up from spending the night at the lab once to realize that he…only had five of his pokéballs.

He had double checked early in the evening, before he had gotten so tired researching meganiums and the other rare pokémon that Johto challengers sometimes used.

His pokéballs had all been in place, then.

So he let them all out immediately that morning.

Did an immediate scan.

…

No Bré.

Dammit.

“Pidgeot, go tell our good friend the lizard about this,” he said, petting the smooth plumage on the bird’s head before Pidgeot cooed and flew off.

Alakazam said that he could barely feel Bré’s presence, which wasn’t too unusual - since he couldn’t read the umbreon’s thoughts - but…was, still, unusual.

Because Alakazam had trained purposefully to still be able to feel what Bré’s psychic signature felt like, even if he couldn’t understand it, in case of an emergency.

So for him to tell Green that he could barely feel it…

Yeah, it was worrying Green. A lot.

The others were all accounted for, at least.

…And there was always that back room in the lab that Oak used for research.

Green might as well check there.

…

But no Bré there, either.

He had been getting horribly frustrated, terrified out of his mind that he had no clue where Bré had gone.

Or, no, not gone.

Was taken.

Because there was no way that he wasn’t.

Bré wasn’t the type of Pokémon to just wander off. And even if he was, he wouldn’t have just taken his pokéball with him.

That…wasn’t right.

Arcanine yipped at him and pulled a book loose from the bookshelf on the wall with his teeth.

Green had no idea what had drawn the dog’s eyes, but watched as the bookshelf slid over, showing a second room that Green had never even known existed.

Dutifully, still stunned, he patted Arcanine’s fur in a type of praise, twisting his fingers into the long silky stripes.

The low growling from Arcanine clued Green into the fact that there was someone - or something - behind that wall.

Green…probably wasn’t going to like this.

Still.

He let the dog lead the way, listened to Alakazam’s updates as he informed Green that he could feel Bré again, and that the umbreon was probably in the back room.

Green stepped forward carefully, listening to Exeggutor and Alakazam’s warnings from Arcanine himself - there was something ahead.

And seeing Bré just sitting, slumped, on an exam table? Not even bothering to try to free himself anymore?

Arceus.

“Bré,” he sighed, relieved, and saw Bré perk up, jumping into his arms.

…If this was meant to be a poké-napping, Green didn’t think this was a very good job.

Bré hadn’t even been restrained.

Despite his psychic types not being able to tell Green exact words that Bré was spouting in between licking the shit out of Green’s face, he thought he understood just fine.

“I missed you more,” Green whispered, still hugging the heavy eeveelution to his chest. “I was so scared.”

Just then, as they exited the back room, Pidgeot flew in with Red on his back.

Green was shocked that Pidgeot had allowed that, knowing how proud the bird could sometimes be, but knew that it was likely because of Green or Bré that Pidgeot had put his issues aside.

“You got him?”

Green just nodded, choked up.

He had no idea what he had assumed Red was going to do, had Green not been able to find the pokémon by himself, other than be backup.

But then, that had been what he had been thinking, wasn’t it?

After all, Green hadn’t been thinking very clearly, having been working himself into a state of panic.

Still, Red wrapped him and Bré into a hug with no other explanation required, and Green felt his breath catch as he clutched onto Red and the other trainer squeezed back.

He pulled back just enough to look his rival in the eyes, and saw what looked to be a familiar, soft look in the other’s eyes.

Ah fuck it.

“Red?”

An inquisitive hum back was his answer.

“I - ”

The door bolted shut.

Green jumped, trying to pull back from Red’s grip, but Red didn’t let go.

It was likely that he didn’t want to risk losing Green in the bizarre mess that had become their current situation, but Green didn’t like it.

“Well. I knew you were out there somewhere. I just had to disrupt my grandson to find that out.”

…

Gramps?

He had been behind the door, if the fact that the older man was now near the entrance was any indication.

And there - in his hand - was Bré’s pokéball, which he threw back to Green.

“I wasn’t going to hurt him, Green, what do you take me for?”

Green really did not think he wanted an answer to that question.

“If anyone knew where Red was, it would be you. And you wouldn’t tell me. So we had to take more extreme measures.”

Oh.

That’s what this was.

Oak…wanted to be the political advisor for the region underneath Red.

But…didn’t the man know that Red’s political title had been yielded weeks ago?

He should have, knowing how invested he was in Pokémon battles and the state of the nation.

But from the frazzled look that Gramps wore, it was likely that he had no idea, had been too busy trying to get Red here before the deadline that he had panicked.

“And Red, know that if you don’t allow me to be your advisor again, if you try to run away from this again, I’ll tell Green.”

Tell Green…what?

But from the violent way Red flinched and drew back from Green, it was clear that Red knew what the man meant.

“Gramps,” Green interrupted, knowing that his grandfather probably wouldn’t even listen, but hopefully Red would understand. “Red’s political title expired already. He can’t claim it again. Lance has been rewriting the addendum that states champions have that responsibility, remember?”

From the way Oak only waved a hand dismissively, Green knew he wasn’t listening.

But Red had heard him.

And was looking back at Green as if he was begging for everything he had said to be the truth.

Which it was.

Good.

Maybe Red would understand that he didn’t owe the professor anything, regardless of what deal they currently had - that looked to only be beneficial on Oak’s part.

Green still couldn’t believe that his own grandfather had lured him into calling Red here because he had staged a kidnapping of Bré - all for this.

“Whatever he’s got you hiding, or whatever it is you want to keep secret, know that he doesn’t have a hold on you here,” Green practically snarled. Because damn. Gramps had never loved him, never listened to him - only when Green could be useful. Which was never, when Red was around. But Red had loved Gramps like his own family, this wasn’t fair to Red. And Gramps had used Red as a pawn. None of this was fair to him. So Green would be damned if he just stepped aside and let Oak drag Red through the mud.

Red looked…ill.

“You aren’t obligated to tell me shit,” Green added, smiling a little at Red.

And that, at least, made Red crack a nervous grin back.

“So you won’t help me, Red? What a pity. I thought that we had come to an agreement.”

Bré was growling at Oak, and so was Arcanine. Pidgeot, still hovering, just flapped his wings near Green’s shoulders.

Red still looked sick, but had that wobbly smile on his face still, which was an improvement.

“A pity you had to find out like this,” Oak grinned, lazily, and Green was horrified to realize that he had inherited that exact expression from this very man. “Red’s gay.”

…Nope, all the improvement was gone.

Red was back to looking like he’d rather die than be present in the conversation, but unfortunately, Oak was still blocking the door - and it was illegal to attack someone with a pokémon when they couldn’t defend themselves.

But Green?

…

He just shifted closer to Red, bumping shoulders with the other trainer.

He felt more than saw the other’s flinch, and something within him splintered off and raged.

“Don’t you get it, Green? I know you need things explained sometimes. He’s a - ”

“Don’t even say it,” Green hissed, sounding every bit as fierce as Bré, who was still growling in front of them.

“Why not? He’s imperfect, isn’t he?”

Red was trying to shift away from Green, if the lack of warmth was any indication, but Green just grabbed his arm, stopping him.

He heard the smallest intake of breath from Red, and Green vowed that he’d go to the ends of the earth if it meant keeping Red from sounding as awful as he did right then.

“Not to me,” Green insisted, raising his head high. Alakazam was praising him for finally picking a mate - pokémon’s own words, despite Green’s refusal to call Red anything of the sort - and for defending him. Even though ‘he’ wasn’t a ‘she.’

“I don’t care if he’s imperfect. Aren’t we all? Besides, that doesn’t matter to me. He’s great.”

And then Green was staring down the barrel of the proverbial gun.

“And what does that mean,” Oak’s voice was no longer smug, just a vibrating timbre that threatened to turn into despair the longer Green hesitated.

…But, well, he might as well admit it.

Hey, maybe he could finally shock his grandfather, even if it wasn’t to impress him.

Lightly, Green pressed a kiss to Red’s cheek - as much as he dared to do to his friend without stepping over personal boundaries, and watched as Red turned a bright crimson.

And Gramps’ face blanched pure white.

“You idiot,” was all the professor hissed at him, beginning to snark rude names before Green’s pokémon shooed him out of the lab, guarding the entrance.

Thank Arceus.

Green turned back to Red, seeing the trainer with the same shocked expression; it made Green’s own face flush.

He rubbed at the back of his neck with his hand.

“Sorry,” he muttered, seeing Red just stare. “I didn’t mean to…or, well, I did. But, I mean, I didn’t want…”

Ugh. Arceus, Green, use your words.

He cleared his throat and tried again.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, that’s all.”

But Red just shook his head.

“Did you mean that?”

“What?”

“About me. And being imperfect.”

“Oh,” Green felt his face heat up like a fancy space heater that people without fire types used. “Yeah, of course I did.”

Red just stared back, and it…made Green look away.

He had known all along that he would never be able to handle the intensity of Red’s gaze for very long if Red didn’t hate him.

“And…the other?”

…

Ah.

“Yeah.” Green cleared his throat again, trying to meet Red’s eyes. “I meant that, too.”

And then immediately realized what that must have sounded like, to Red, and fumbled his words.

“What I meant is, yes, I meant it. Of course. But it’s, it’s not - I didn’t just decide to do that for him. Or you. It was - I was, I’m - ”

A press of warmth - lips? - against his own cheek made Green stop and stare, seeing Red’s cheeky grin.

“I know. He wasn’t wrong. I’m gay,” Red nodded, as if this wasn’t some big thing that had Green doing cartwheels in his mind. “I care about you, Green.”

“And I…really like you. I don’t know what that means, I’ve…only ever looked at you.”

Green was almost embarrassed to admit that, but the bright smile on Red’s face made it worth it.

Frankly, Green didn’t give a damn anymore about his grandfather.

Because Red and himself would be able to work something out together.

They already battled together all the time, maybe they could form a pair. Do double battles. Something.

…

Green didn’t care what it was.

As long as he could stay with his pokémon, and with Red by his side.

They’d figure out the rest together.