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miles_to_go2012-08-23 01:47 am
before_i_sleep) wrote in miles_to_go2012-08-23 01:47 am
Entry tags:
Chapter III: The Party
Chapter II
Chapter III: The Party
"I still don't know why they'd even want me there," Green grumbles. He sifts through the drawerful of ties he's collected over the last two years without really searching.
From her side of the bed, Leaf sighs. "You're a gym leader and a childhood friend of the honoree. It would be an insult if they didn't invite you."
Green snorts mirthlessly. "I wouldn't care." His eyes narrow at a particularly hideous tie he keeps stashed at the bottom of the drawer. "I'm sure the caped crusader knows I wouldn't and invited me anyway."
"Why? To spite you?" He can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "This party’s for Red. All they want you to do is smile and look pretty.” She pauses, and the bed springs creak beneath her shifting weight. “Which you’re pretty good at. So I don’t know why you’re complaining.”
He turns to look at her, an eyebrow quirked.
She sits on the bed with her back to him, the curvature of her spine pronounced as she bends forward to roll sheer stockings up her legs. Eevee, curled up in the warm dip Leaf’s weight leaves in the mattress, dozes. When Leaf straightens again, she looks over her shoulder and winks at him.
A fond smile pulls at the corners of his lips, but Green stubbornly smothers it down. It comes out as a grimace instead.
She frowns at him, her eyes flitting downward. “Don’t you hate that tie?” she asks.
He follows her gaze and finds that he is holding the hideous tie, the one he keeps hidden. His grandfather had sent him the tie in the mail when he was appointed Viridian Gym Leader. Attached to the silky fabric was a simple note written in the professor’s cramped script. Congratulations, it read. He’d crumpled the note into a ball in his hand and considered tossing it and the tie into the garbage but ended up keeping both anyway.
Green’s grimace deepens into a scowl. “Yes,” he agrees, though he is already throwing it over his shoulders and popping his collar.
Brows knit in concentration, Green ties a knot.
Leaf watches, a look of quiet disapproval on her face as she goes about putting on a strapless bra. When Green steps back to inspect his handiwork in the mirror, Leaf clucks her tongue, more bemused than disapproving now, and pads toward him. “That’s really crooked,” she points out.
Green rolls his eyes but stays quiet.
“Chin up,” Leaf says. Her hands pull at the ends of his shirt to get the top button into its corresponding hole. When she’s succeeded, she stands on her tiptoes, props her chin on his right shoulder, and undoes the knot.
“Wouldn’t it be easier if you asked me to turn around?” he asks, his voice made gruffer by the tightness of the shirt’s collar.
“Hush.”
Her front to his back, Leaf corrects his mistake.
When she’s finished, she inspects her work. “It’s still a little crooked,” she observes. “I could do it again. Are you sure you don’t want to wear the green one? You know, the one that goes well with your eyes?”
“It’s fine,” Green says quickly, his tone abrupt enough to wake Eevee. The pokémon raises her head to stare at them tiredly from the bed.
Leaf stays in position for a moment, then steps away. “If you say so.” She walks toward her closet, pausing briefly to scratch behind Eevee’s ears soothingly as she passes the bed. “Now help me pick out a dress.”
--
Later, Green waits by the door and compulsively checks his watch. He taps his foot impatiently, scowling all the while.
“Are you two gonna be done anytime soon?” he calls irritably.
“Almost,” Leaf replies, her voice coming from the bathroom. “I’m just helping Red with his tie. We’ll be out in a minute.”
Green thinks of their reflection in the tiny bathroom: Red facing the mirror expressionlessly, Leaf’s chin propped on his shoulder and her hands working at his neck. Something angry clenches his stomach; the tapping of his foot becomes louder, faster.
Pikachu regards him from the couch, his freshly groomed head cocked to the side inquisitively. Green sneers at him.
“What are you looking at?”
The mouse pokémon lets out a dignified little huff before disappearing amongst the cushions, leaving Green to mumble to himself a little resentfully.
A few minutes later, he hears the distinctive clack of heels accompanied by the dull slap of Red’s footsteps against the tile.
Leaf enters the hall first, turning in her black dress for him to see. Green hums dispassionately, too caught up in his displeasure to appreciate the view, and Leaf retaliates by slapping at his arm good-naturedly.
Red follows shortly thereafter.
Like Green, he is wearing a suit, button-up shirt and tie, dress pants, and shoes. It is quickly apparent, however, that he (or rather, Leaf) put more thought into how the clothes would look on him. The deep crimson of the tie hanging from his collar and the accents on his suit jacket cut across and frame his dark shirt. The outfit accentuates his eyes, making them look more of a vibrant red than they actually are.
“Well,” Leaf says smugly, “do you approve of our tastes?”
Green averts his eyes and opens the door. Glaring at the floor, he holds it open. “Can we leave sometime tonight?”
Leaf laughs, squints at Green’s shoulders, and runs the palms of her hands along them to brush lint and pokémon fur off. “That means he does,” she stage-whispers at Red as she crosses the threshold. To Green she says, “I’ll go ahead and hail a cab.”
He nods, and Leaf leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek before heading for the elevator. Red looks up from the floor, staring as she walks away.
A moment of silence passes as Green waits for Red to step out the door. He busies himself with rather pointedly pulling his keys out of his pocket, but Red remains where he is, staring.
After a few seconds, Green looks up and meets his eyes. “Are you coming or not?”
Red doesn’t reply, staring in that unnervingly flat way of his.
Green bristles, his hands squeezing into fists. “What?”
The former Champion raises a finger and points it at Green’s chest. “Your tie,” says Red, “is ugly.”
Green stares for a moment in silence before turning away. “Thanks for the fashion advice,” he grits out.
The other man shrugs and—finally—makes his way out of the apartment. Pikachu scampers after him.
Sticking his key into the lock rather viciously, Green runs his tongue over the pointed edges of his teeth and resolves, bitterly, to count the hours until they can return home.
--
The cab ride to the Indigo Plateau is fraught with tension.
All three of them sit in the back, Leaf squeezed between the two of them. Despite her best attempts at lightening the mood with small talk, Green and Red remain unresponsive.
“Look,” she says, gesturing out the window nearest Green. “They’re almost done building that new Unovan restaurant I told you about.”
Green doesn’t even bother looking up from his pokégear. “Uh-huh,” he says, his face illuminated by the dim glow of the screen.
Leaf sighs and stares out at Viridian’s passing lights.
--
She tries again once they’re driving along the overpass over Victory Road.
She nudges Red’s side with her elbow to get his attention and points at the mountainous route with her other hand. “Remember the first time we saw this?” she asks, unfazed by Red’s unresponsiveness. “We were on a field trip in the second grade, and Green talked our ears off about how one day he’d ‘beat’ this place. And when we went on the tour Green tried to convince us to sneak away from the class and try to get into the Hall of Fame, but Mrs. Robin caught us.” Her laugh sounds strained and discordant over the hum of the taxi’s engine. “She wouldn’t let us out of her sight for the rest of the trip!”
She can feel the tension settle into Green’s shoulder as the muscles in his arm go taut against her bare forearm. He has stopped scrolling through his emails, she realizes. The two of them remain silent and motionless, waiting for a response.
“Yes,” Red says eventually, simply. He does not turn away from the window.
After another quiet moment, Green makes a small, derisive sound in the back of his throat and starts scrolling through his phone again. The tension, however, migrates up his arms to nest in his shoulders, where it will remain for the rest of the night.
Eventually, Leaf resigns herself to enduring the rest of the trip in silence.
--
Red had last visited the Indigo Plateau seven years ago to hand in his resignation.
Those memories have aged poorly in the intervening years between that trip and this one, the images blurred by the calm and solitude of Mt. Silver. He cannot quite recall, for example, how he phrased the letter he’d strung together the night before, nor can he remember how the council members reacted as he walked away.
There are a few details that have survived unscathed. He remembers that it was a Thursday and that Pikachu clung to his shoulder the entire time; he recalls running into an unsuspecting Lance on his way out and not stopping when the dragon tamer called after him.
Tonight, the Elite Four castle is bustling with noise and motion—nothing like the empty, echoing place he left so many years ago—but Lance, in his cape, still draws his eye amongst the crowd of evening gowns and pressed suits. He seems relaxed, throwing his head back with laughter when the new Elite Four member, Will, says something. It's a far cry from the three of them, standing in the doorway—Green with his back unnaturally straight, Leaf with her practiced false smile, and Red instinctively ducking behind both of them when he sees the ocean of strange voices and faces before him. Pikachu is still as much a comfort now as he was then, his weight warm and familiar on his shoulder.
"Green!" someone calls. Green looks up and relaxes a little, smiling as Brock throws an arm around his shoulders.
"I didn't think you'd make it, man," Brock says.
Green laughs, gesturing to Leaf. "My better half," he says. "Blame her."
Brock pulls away from Green to give Leaf a quick hug. "Long time no see, Brock," she says.
"You should stop by Pewter sometime," he tells her. "We've got some new exhibits in the museum that you might like." Brock turns to look at Green. "When are we going to go on that trip to Cinnabar?"
"Someday," Green says. The word comes out of his mouth too easily, reflexive.
Leaf steps out of the hug, and Red freezes, suddenly exposed. Brock goes still for a moment when he sees him.
"Red!" he says. The word is like a signal: the crowd around them quiets as people turn to look. Brock extends a hand, oblivious to the sudden attention. "It's great to see you again."
After that, most of the night passes in a similar fashion: introductions, reintroductions, well-wishes, awkward snippets of conversation, an occasional flash of light as someone takes a photo. Green wanders off towards the buffet table a few minutes in, and Red catches glimpses of him later, smiling as a group of people laugh at something he's said. Leaf stays with him for a bit longer, but is eventually dragged away by Misty and—Janine, Leaf calls her. Janine is the same age he is, and she's obviously Koga's daughter, from the way she holds herself to the shape of her eyes. It's strange that he's never met her before. It's amazing, all the things he doesn't know.
Forty-five minutes later, Lance finds him in the crowd. Pikachu has migrated into Red's arms by that point. Red is looking down at him as he scratches the spot behind Pikachu's left ear, using it as an excuse to not make eye contact with anyone, when he sees a familiar cape curling around newly shined black shoes.
There are new wrinkles around Lance's eyes, but he has the same small smile, the same half-apologetic tilt of the head. His handshake hasn't changed, either—warm and carefully practiced, two firm shakes and a quick release.
"Red," he says. "Welcome back."
Red's response is inaudible, but Lance nods anyway, resting a hand between his shoulder blades and gently propelling him towards the double doors at the end of the room. "I'm sorry," Lance says, softer. Red looks up at him, curious, and the half-smile flashes across Lance's face again. "I seem to remember that you don't like crowds," he explains.
The following hall is filled with tables, each one with twelve seats with full place settings before them. Lance leads Red down the center aisle, and Pikachu hops out of his arms now that he's not in danger of being stepped on. The noises of the crowd fade as they approach the large stage at the other end of the hall.
They stop at a table right in front of the stage. Lance gestures toward a small placard that reads Red in rolling script. "Dinner should be starting in about ten minutes," Lance says. "I'll let Green and Leaf know where you are."
Red sits down and Pikachu jumps into his lap. The two of them stare at the forest of forks, knives, and spoons that surround the plate. Lance hovers behind them for a moment, just at the edge of Red's peripheral vision. "You'll be all right here?" he asks. Red nods, handing Pikachu the tiniest spoon, which he seems particularly interested in. Lance hesitates for another moment, then says, "Well, excuse me," and turns on his heel, returning to the party.
The doors close, leaving Red in silence, and he instantly slumps back against his chair, closing his eyes. Pikachu drops the spoon and dives to the floor after it. Red listens to him batting it back and forth underneath the table and breathes out.
--
His grandfather, as always, is late.
It is to be expected of the professor, and most everyone is used to it by now. Green certainly is. Professor Oak had been over two hours late to the dinner held in honor of his grandson’s appointment to the Viridian City Gym. “You know that Grandfather isn’t one for events like this,” Daisy had told him in that soft, apologetic way of hers. It was the perennial sort of tone she used whenever their grandfather did something that disappointed him. “He’s probably just being fashionably late to avoid having to make small talk.”
“Please,” Green had mumbled bitterly over the edge of his glass of apple cider, “Gramps isn’t fashionable about anything.”
The tie around his neck at the moment is proof enough of that, he thinks.
Presently, Leaf slips an arm into the crook of his elbow. “Have you seen Red?” she asks, her brown eyes skimming over the crowd.
“Do I look like his keeper?” he retorts.
“A simple yes or no would have been great.” Leaf’s tone is level, her face impassive as she continues her search of the ballroom. When a waiter bearing a trayful of champagne flutes passes by, she grins at him thankfully and catches one between her index finger and thumb. “I’m worried about him; you know he hates crowds.”
“A little socialization like this might not cure him, but it won’t break him either.” He snorts meanly, and pauses to take another large swallow of his scotch and soda. “At least not any more than he’s always been.”
Leaf’s eyes narrow at him, her arm going tense against his own. “That was totally uncalled for, Green,” she hisses.
To their right, someone clears their throat. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Lance says apologetically.
“Not at all,” Green replies briskly.
Leaf removes her arm from his and takes a long sip of champagne. The dragon master’s dark eyes flit between the two of them for a moment, sensing the tension. When Leaf smiles at him as a gesture to go on, he says, “I escorted Red to the dining room a few moments ago. I thought you two would like to know.”
The statement catches Leaf mid-swallow, and her mouth works soundlessly for the briefest of moments. Once she’s swallowed the champagne, she says, “Thank you, Lance. We were just wondering where he’d gone.”
Lance discreetly keeps his eyes off Green as the gym leader rolls his eyes. “Dinner will be starting in a few minutes. Would you like me to show you the way to him?”
There is a ripple of noise in the crowd. It swallows Leaf’s response, which Green is sure is an affirmative anyway. He cranes his head away from the others, turning toward the doors, and catches sight of a head of gray hair.
Green pulls back the sleeve of his suit and dress shirt to peer at his watch. This time, Professor Oak has arrived only fifty-six minutes late.
That familiar feeling of dread rises inside of him once his grandfather spots him and begins to make his way over. Green avoids his gaze and turns toward Leaf, who has already begun to follow Lance through the parted crowds.
“Leaf,” he calls, his voice loud enough to attract a few looks. “Leaf!”
He sees her hair flow with the turn of her head, and then she too is obscured from him.
“Shit,” Green mutters under his breath. He can feel his grandfather’s eyes on him as he draws closer. Briefly, Green considers darting into the crowd to follow Leaf. Ignoring Red is easy; he’s been doing a pretty good job of it so far.
The same can’t be said about ignoring Oak, however. “Shit,” he repeats much more venomously.
With great effort, he stays rooted to the spot and occupies his fingers with tapping at the edge of his nearly-empty glass.
“Green,” Oak greets him with a nod of his head, looking him over from head to feet.
“Gramps,” replies Green.
His scrutiny sated for the moment, Oak extends his hand. Green takes it after a few seconds, though the resulting handshake is flimsy at best.
The professor looks around for something, ignoring the glances of the people around him. He's is notorious for avoiding formal soirees like these. Extenuating circumstances in the lab, his RSVPs usually read. Pressing research to conduct is another favorite.
Oak’s eyes snap back to Green. “Where is the guest of honor?”
For neither the first nor the last time that night, Green subdues the urge to roll his eyes in response to that question. Though the alcohol in his system makes it considerably more difficult to resist, the intensity of his grandfather’s stare stirs the smallest tinge of guilt within him. The glass of liquor in his hand certainly doesn’t make it any easier; he feels like he’s been caught doing something forbidden.
Green has been well-acquainted with Gramps-related guilt for most of his life, though he tries to remind himself that he shouldn’t allow himself to feel that way. His grandfather has never been the kind of man that gives praise easily, too distracted by the latest discoveries about pokémon breeding or evolution—or, sometimes, the talented boy next door—to notice Green. When he first started out as a trainer, Green tried doing all the things he thought his grandfather wanted: catching wild pokémon to fill pages in the Pokédex, challenging Kanto’s gyms, becoming Champion. That, however, had only been half the game; the catch was he had to do it all better and faster than both Red and Leaf could.
When it turned out that he couldn’t beat Red no matter how hard he tried, he returned to Pallet Town to lick his wounds and sulk. Green could tell that Oak was doing his best to give him time, but his grandfather eventually tried to persuade him to "make himself useful"—there was work that needed to be done at the Sevii Islands, and Green, he said, would be perfect for the job.
Oak had contacted Celio, an associate of his on Knot Island, to recommend Green for an internship there. At the time, Green had been interested in Celio’s idea of a “Pokémon Network,” which would theoretically make it possible for pokémon in the Storage System to be transferred over long distances through the Internet, thus eliminating the need for intermediaries in both interregional travels and trades. It was a groundbreaking, challenging project, and Green had been disaffected enough with the idea of competitive battling at the time to let his grandfather push him towards helping Celio with his research.
In the end, things did not go as well as either of the Oaks had hoped. Green’s responsibilities, which basically involved keeping in contact with other the other regions’ researchers over the phone and compiling their data to keep Celio abreast of his colleagues’ progress, were time-consuming but not much else. After a few months of trying—and failing—to ignore how caged he felt by spending days at a time without going outside, watching Eevee nap out of boredom beside his computer screen for hours, he apologized to Celio and gave him his two weeks' notice. After that, he absconded to Hoenn on a whim, where he stayed in the houses of the friends he’d made after those numerous phone calls.
His grandfather had been quite disappointed with his decision, to say the least. Ever their go-between, Daisy called him to convey both her concern and their grandfather’s sentiments. “I think he’s embarrassed that you quit so suddenly, especially since he was the one to recommend you for the position,” Daisy’s voice said through the receiver.
“I need time,” Green replied. “Distance to figure everything out.” But the relationship between grandfather and grandson had grown more distant than ever after that. Green wasn't surprised when Professor Oak was late to his gym leader celebration. He was, instead, surprised that his grandfather had remembered to come at all.
Green's eyes refocus; he's at a party, his colleagues surround him, and he's talking to his grandfather, who's staring at him expectantly. Right. “Red’s in the dining room,” Green says, eager to be rid of the lingering guilt that dogs his thoughts. “Leaf and Lance went to, um, keep him company.”
Oak nods but remains where he is, staring at the spot above his grandson’s left shoulder. Green fidgets uncomfortably. He tries focusing on the clink of the ice within his glass, and he mostly succeeds, at least until the professor speaks up again.
“I trust that you have behaved accommodatingly towards Red?”
Green looks up, his mind tripping over the words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The professor clears his throat. “Red has been staying with the two of you, hasn’t he?"
“Yes,” he grits out.
“His mother worries about him,” says Oak. “You should encourage him to visit Pallet Town more often.”
Green almost chokes on a laugh. “I’ve been doing that since he first got here, Gramps.” More than that, actually, he wants to say, but he'd only have enough courage to mutter it under his breath, and his grandfather has never abided unclear articulation.
"He can be a stubborn boy,” Oak says. “Perhaps his mother and I should visit you instead.”
Green stiffens. "No." At his grandfather's startled look, he closes his eyes. "I know how much you hate leaving the lab," he says tightly. "Besides, he's already here. Why don't you just go see him?"
"Why aren't you with him?" his grandfather asks.
He opens his mouth, then closes it. He covers the motion by lifting his glass to take a quick drink. "I'm talking to my coworkers," he says. "Red will be fine on his own."
Oak turns, scanning the crowd. "There's quite a turnout here! I think I'd get lost if I tried to look for him myself." He turns to his grandson with a bemused smile. "Don't you think Red might feel the same way? Let's go find him."
Green takes a deep breath. It's always hard to argue with his grandfather, and harder still with alcohol and annoyance weighing on his tongue. He spends a moment gathering himself and trying to remember where Lance and Leaf went. "This way," he says finally, and takes off at a fast pace through the crowd. He successfully manages to stay out of easy conversation range until they reach the double doors. Two servers are opening them, revealing Lance in the center of the doorway.
"Dinner is about to be served," he announces to the crowd. "Please join us in the dining room."
Green heads towards Lance, who smiles when he sees the two of them. "Professor Oak," he says, reaching out to shake his hand. "It's an honor to have you with us tonight. May I show you two to your seats?"
"Actually, my grandfather was looking for Red," Green says.
"Red is sitting at your table," Lance says to Professor Oak. "We thought it was only fitting. You too, Green. This way."
Following Lance, Professor Oak and Green precede the crowd filtering into the dining room. When they reach their table, Green notes with relief that Leaf has situated herself between Red’s place and his own—but his lips thin when he sees that Professor Oak's name is on the plate next to his.
"Thank you," the professor says to Lance, who has pulled out his chair. He sits down with a heavy sigh, beaming at Red and Leaf. Lance glances at Green, but nods when he's waved off.
"I'm fine," Green says. "Thanks." Lance moves to his seat next to Red, and the large table is soon filled out with the other Elite Four members. It's the VIP table, evidently. Green wants to be proud that he's at the table that the whole room is watching, but he knows that it's not only because of his own merits. It's because of Red's—the wonder-child of Pallet Town, Professor Oak's prodigy.
Green leans back as his grandfather speaks to Red around him. Red hesitates before giving a short response, but the professor has never been one to pass up a captive audience, and soon he's giving a long lecture on the latest discoveries he's made on Cinnabar Island while Red listens with a mixture of fascination and relief. Meanwhile, Lance and Leaf have begun discussing—cape fashion trends, it sounds like.
He looks down at his empty plate, and Green Oak stares back at him. He picks the namecard up and jams it into his pocket before he can really think about it. He wishes he had Eevee with him, but she was tired and had wanted to rest. Green doesn't blame her. He'd wanted to stay home, too.
The dinnertime chatter swirls around him without touching him, and Green sighs, rubbing at his throbbing temple. It's going to be a long night, he thinks, but he's seen worse. The thought doesn't comfort him, but then again, it never has.
--
"And now to introduce our guest of honor, Red!" says Lance, his amplified voice bouncing off the walls of the conference hall.
The thundering applause swells as the spotlight settles on their table. Green rolls his eyes and leans further back in his chair to duck out of the light.
From the seat beside hers, Red's gaze catches Leaf's and holds it. She sees nothing in them but the urge to run.
Once Red reaches the stage, Green shoves his seat back. "I'm leaving," he mutters. Leaf can barely hear him over the continuing cheers. Professor Oak glances up, but his attention quickly strays back to the boy on the stage.
Leaf catches his hand, looking up at him, but he pulls free. "You coming?" he asks. He hesitates when she shakes her head, then drops a rushed kiss onto her cheek. "Yeah, I can't do this. I'll see you later," he says, knowing she'll use his credit card for the cab fare.
Even after Red's back in his seat, slowly relaxing as the room's ambient chatter returns to its normal level, Red's panicked expression, the silent cry for escape, sticks in Leaf's mind. It gets her thinking.
--
The taxi drops them off in front of the apartment building.
Leaf pulls a card from her purse and swipes it through the built-in credit card scanner.
“Have a good night,” she tells the cabbie, who had been eying Pikachu warningly through the rearview mirror the entire ride over. Red can’t really blame him; pikachu are rather infamous around these parts for chewing on wires and wrecking entire electrical systems.
After insisting that they take the elevator instead of the stairs, Leaf rummages through her clutch outside the door. "You'd think it'd be easier to find my key in this thing," she says. Her tone is slightly apologetic, though Red is not sure what she is apologizing for.
After another moment of waiting, she finally pulls the key out between her index and middle fingers. "Here we go," she says softly, her tone relieved.
Red attributes the difficulty she encounters in trying to get the key into its lock to the flutes of champagne she had plucked from the waiters' trays at the party.
The door swings open to reveal a dark, empty apartment. It's already past two, so Eevee is probably sound asleep. Green isn’t anywhere in sight either, so he is probably asleep as well. Red steps in gingerly, and Leaf closes the door behind them as quietly as she can. After she clicks the door locked, she flicks the hall light on.
"It's cold," Leaf notes. She crosses her arms and runs her palms along the bare skin of her forearms, her body shivering. "Green likes keeping this place like an ice box."
She walks down the hallway to adjust the thermostat, leaving Red to stand awkwardly in the doorway. It's been a month, but Red cannot seem to get used to this place. He still wakes up expecting to feel the hard edge of the bedrock against his back and the bite of Mount Silver's cold nipping at his face. Opening his eyes to the apartment's low ceilings and the sagging leather of the couch makes him feel constrained and suffocated. Pikachu does not seem to share this problem; he hops off his trainer’s shoulder and scampers onto the couch, where he makes himself comfortable in a bed of pillows, and Red envies the pokémon for the ease with which he's adapted to their new surroundings.
Leaf's presence is announced by the rumble of the air conditioner through the vents. "Don't just stand there," she says as she walks past him and towards the kitchen. "Come in."
He does as he is told and follows her.
"I don't know about you, but the food they served at that thing didn't fill me up at all." She peers into the pantry for a moment before reaching in. "Want some crackers?" she asks, brandishing an open package of Ritz. When she sees Red eying the twisted ends, she says, "I keep forgetting to stop by the supermarket after work, so this is all we've got."
He shrugs at her in response, but they end up pulling out adjacent chairs at the kitchen table together anyway. They eat in companionable silence, the crackers too stale to crunch as they chew.
When they finish, Leaf crinkles the package into a ball and tosses it into the bin. "These shoes are killing me," she says a few moments later, her voice too tired for it sound like a complaint. "The dress too."
Red licks at his dry lips and tastes salt.
The scrape of her chair against the tile draws his gaze, but he does not follow her this time.
He knows he should turn in soon as well. His eyes burn with tiredness, the buzz of sleep deprivation settling in the space between them, right above the bridge of his nose. He is used to sleeping and rising with the sun; this is another thing he suspects he will never be able to leave behind, though his body already has. His sleeping patterns have shifted, and now Red falls asleep to reruns of years-old recordings of trainers challenging the Elite Four and rises once Leaf and Green have already gone off to work. It is disorienting, to say the least.
Red rises and heads for the hall closet that Leaf has relegated to his use to retrieve his pajamas. On his way, however, he catches sight of Leaf through the open door to the bedroom.
She is standing in front of her dresser, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she undoes the clasps of her earrings. The curve of her back is pale in the moonlight streaming in through the window, and the strands of her hair brush against the expanse of skin and upper edges of the dress with her movements.
Leaf is visibly startled when she catches sight of him in the mirror. "What?" she whispers.
He is not quite sure he wants to say, how to piece everything he has seen in a manner he can articulate. No matter how he tries to puzzle it out, he finds that he cannot reconcile the memories of his childhood friend with the woman in the bedroom, the woman she’s become. Not completely.
For the first time since he left Mt. Silver, Red feels small.
"You grew up," he offers simply.
She sets her earrings down on the dresser and turns toward him. Her smile looks sad when she says, "We all have."
Red finds that he cannot argue with that.
“Do you think you could close the door?” she asks. She draws the length of her index finger over her lips, and Red nods before quietly moving toward the doorway. The doorknob feels cold against his palm when he lightly wraps his fingers around it and pulls.
He catches a glimpse of a huddled form on the bed that must be Green—a tuft of chestnut hair sticking out from under the duvet—before the door shuts.
Chapter IV
Chapter III: The Party
"I still don't know why they'd even want me there," Green grumbles. He sifts through the drawerful of ties he's collected over the last two years without really searching.
From her side of the bed, Leaf sighs. "You're a gym leader and a childhood friend of the honoree. It would be an insult if they didn't invite you."
Green snorts mirthlessly. "I wouldn't care." His eyes narrow at a particularly hideous tie he keeps stashed at the bottom of the drawer. "I'm sure the caped crusader knows I wouldn't and invited me anyway."
"Why? To spite you?" He can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "This party’s for Red. All they want you to do is smile and look pretty.” She pauses, and the bed springs creak beneath her shifting weight. “Which you’re pretty good at. So I don’t know why you’re complaining.”
He turns to look at her, an eyebrow quirked.
She sits on the bed with her back to him, the curvature of her spine pronounced as she bends forward to roll sheer stockings up her legs. Eevee, curled up in the warm dip Leaf’s weight leaves in the mattress, dozes. When Leaf straightens again, she looks over her shoulder and winks at him.
A fond smile pulls at the corners of his lips, but Green stubbornly smothers it down. It comes out as a grimace instead.
She frowns at him, her eyes flitting downward. “Don’t you hate that tie?” she asks.
He follows her gaze and finds that he is holding the hideous tie, the one he keeps hidden. His grandfather had sent him the tie in the mail when he was appointed Viridian Gym Leader. Attached to the silky fabric was a simple note written in the professor’s cramped script. Congratulations, it read. He’d crumpled the note into a ball in his hand and considered tossing it and the tie into the garbage but ended up keeping both anyway.
Green’s grimace deepens into a scowl. “Yes,” he agrees, though he is already throwing it over his shoulders and popping his collar.
Brows knit in concentration, Green ties a knot.
Leaf watches, a look of quiet disapproval on her face as she goes about putting on a strapless bra. When Green steps back to inspect his handiwork in the mirror, Leaf clucks her tongue, more bemused than disapproving now, and pads toward him. “That’s really crooked,” she points out.
Green rolls his eyes but stays quiet.
“Chin up,” Leaf says. Her hands pull at the ends of his shirt to get the top button into its corresponding hole. When she’s succeeded, she stands on her tiptoes, props her chin on his right shoulder, and undoes the knot.
“Wouldn’t it be easier if you asked me to turn around?” he asks, his voice made gruffer by the tightness of the shirt’s collar.
“Hush.”
Her front to his back, Leaf corrects his mistake.
When she’s finished, she inspects her work. “It’s still a little crooked,” she observes. “I could do it again. Are you sure you don’t want to wear the green one? You know, the one that goes well with your eyes?”
“It’s fine,” Green says quickly, his tone abrupt enough to wake Eevee. The pokémon raises her head to stare at them tiredly from the bed.
Leaf stays in position for a moment, then steps away. “If you say so.” She walks toward her closet, pausing briefly to scratch behind Eevee’s ears soothingly as she passes the bed. “Now help me pick out a dress.”
--
Later, Green waits by the door and compulsively checks his watch. He taps his foot impatiently, scowling all the while.
“Are you two gonna be done anytime soon?” he calls irritably.
“Almost,” Leaf replies, her voice coming from the bathroom. “I’m just helping Red with his tie. We’ll be out in a minute.”
Green thinks of their reflection in the tiny bathroom: Red facing the mirror expressionlessly, Leaf’s chin propped on his shoulder and her hands working at his neck. Something angry clenches his stomach; the tapping of his foot becomes louder, faster.
Pikachu regards him from the couch, his freshly groomed head cocked to the side inquisitively. Green sneers at him.
“What are you looking at?”
The mouse pokémon lets out a dignified little huff before disappearing amongst the cushions, leaving Green to mumble to himself a little resentfully.
A few minutes later, he hears the distinctive clack of heels accompanied by the dull slap of Red’s footsteps against the tile.
Leaf enters the hall first, turning in her black dress for him to see. Green hums dispassionately, too caught up in his displeasure to appreciate the view, and Leaf retaliates by slapping at his arm good-naturedly.
Red follows shortly thereafter.
Like Green, he is wearing a suit, button-up shirt and tie, dress pants, and shoes. It is quickly apparent, however, that he (or rather, Leaf) put more thought into how the clothes would look on him. The deep crimson of the tie hanging from his collar and the accents on his suit jacket cut across and frame his dark shirt. The outfit accentuates his eyes, making them look more of a vibrant red than they actually are.
“Well,” Leaf says smugly, “do you approve of our tastes?”
Green averts his eyes and opens the door. Glaring at the floor, he holds it open. “Can we leave sometime tonight?”
Leaf laughs, squints at Green’s shoulders, and runs the palms of her hands along them to brush lint and pokémon fur off. “That means he does,” she stage-whispers at Red as she crosses the threshold. To Green she says, “I’ll go ahead and hail a cab.”
He nods, and Leaf leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek before heading for the elevator. Red looks up from the floor, staring as she walks away.
A moment of silence passes as Green waits for Red to step out the door. He busies himself with rather pointedly pulling his keys out of his pocket, but Red remains where he is, staring.
After a few seconds, Green looks up and meets his eyes. “Are you coming or not?”
Red doesn’t reply, staring in that unnervingly flat way of his.
Green bristles, his hands squeezing into fists. “What?”
The former Champion raises a finger and points it at Green’s chest. “Your tie,” says Red, “is ugly.”
Green stares for a moment in silence before turning away. “Thanks for the fashion advice,” he grits out.
The other man shrugs and—finally—makes his way out of the apartment. Pikachu scampers after him.
Sticking his key into the lock rather viciously, Green runs his tongue over the pointed edges of his teeth and resolves, bitterly, to count the hours until they can return home.
--
The cab ride to the Indigo Plateau is fraught with tension.
All three of them sit in the back, Leaf squeezed between the two of them. Despite her best attempts at lightening the mood with small talk, Green and Red remain unresponsive.
“Look,” she says, gesturing out the window nearest Green. “They’re almost done building that new Unovan restaurant I told you about.”
Green doesn’t even bother looking up from his pokégear. “Uh-huh,” he says, his face illuminated by the dim glow of the screen.
Leaf sighs and stares out at Viridian’s passing lights.
--
She tries again once they’re driving along the overpass over Victory Road.
She nudges Red’s side with her elbow to get his attention and points at the mountainous route with her other hand. “Remember the first time we saw this?” she asks, unfazed by Red’s unresponsiveness. “We were on a field trip in the second grade, and Green talked our ears off about how one day he’d ‘beat’ this place. And when we went on the tour Green tried to convince us to sneak away from the class and try to get into the Hall of Fame, but Mrs. Robin caught us.” Her laugh sounds strained and discordant over the hum of the taxi’s engine. “She wouldn’t let us out of her sight for the rest of the trip!”
She can feel the tension settle into Green’s shoulder as the muscles in his arm go taut against her bare forearm. He has stopped scrolling through his emails, she realizes. The two of them remain silent and motionless, waiting for a response.
“Yes,” Red says eventually, simply. He does not turn away from the window.
After another quiet moment, Green makes a small, derisive sound in the back of his throat and starts scrolling through his phone again. The tension, however, migrates up his arms to nest in his shoulders, where it will remain for the rest of the night.
Eventually, Leaf resigns herself to enduring the rest of the trip in silence.
--
Red had last visited the Indigo Plateau seven years ago to hand in his resignation.
Those memories have aged poorly in the intervening years between that trip and this one, the images blurred by the calm and solitude of Mt. Silver. He cannot quite recall, for example, how he phrased the letter he’d strung together the night before, nor can he remember how the council members reacted as he walked away.
There are a few details that have survived unscathed. He remembers that it was a Thursday and that Pikachu clung to his shoulder the entire time; he recalls running into an unsuspecting Lance on his way out and not stopping when the dragon tamer called after him.
Tonight, the Elite Four castle is bustling with noise and motion—nothing like the empty, echoing place he left so many years ago—but Lance, in his cape, still draws his eye amongst the crowd of evening gowns and pressed suits. He seems relaxed, throwing his head back with laughter when the new Elite Four member, Will, says something. It's a far cry from the three of them, standing in the doorway—Green with his back unnaturally straight, Leaf with her practiced false smile, and Red instinctively ducking behind both of them when he sees the ocean of strange voices and faces before him. Pikachu is still as much a comfort now as he was then, his weight warm and familiar on his shoulder.
"Green!" someone calls. Green looks up and relaxes a little, smiling as Brock throws an arm around his shoulders.
"I didn't think you'd make it, man," Brock says.
Green laughs, gesturing to Leaf. "My better half," he says. "Blame her."
Brock pulls away from Green to give Leaf a quick hug. "Long time no see, Brock," she says.
"You should stop by Pewter sometime," he tells her. "We've got some new exhibits in the museum that you might like." Brock turns to look at Green. "When are we going to go on that trip to Cinnabar?"
"Someday," Green says. The word comes out of his mouth too easily, reflexive.
Leaf steps out of the hug, and Red freezes, suddenly exposed. Brock goes still for a moment when he sees him.
"Red!" he says. The word is like a signal: the crowd around them quiets as people turn to look. Brock extends a hand, oblivious to the sudden attention. "It's great to see you again."
After that, most of the night passes in a similar fashion: introductions, reintroductions, well-wishes, awkward snippets of conversation, an occasional flash of light as someone takes a photo. Green wanders off towards the buffet table a few minutes in, and Red catches glimpses of him later, smiling as a group of people laugh at something he's said. Leaf stays with him for a bit longer, but is eventually dragged away by Misty and—Janine, Leaf calls her. Janine is the same age he is, and she's obviously Koga's daughter, from the way she holds herself to the shape of her eyes. It's strange that he's never met her before. It's amazing, all the things he doesn't know.
Forty-five minutes later, Lance finds him in the crowd. Pikachu has migrated into Red's arms by that point. Red is looking down at him as he scratches the spot behind Pikachu's left ear, using it as an excuse to not make eye contact with anyone, when he sees a familiar cape curling around newly shined black shoes.
There are new wrinkles around Lance's eyes, but he has the same small smile, the same half-apologetic tilt of the head. His handshake hasn't changed, either—warm and carefully practiced, two firm shakes and a quick release.
"Red," he says. "Welcome back."
Red's response is inaudible, but Lance nods anyway, resting a hand between his shoulder blades and gently propelling him towards the double doors at the end of the room. "I'm sorry," Lance says, softer. Red looks up at him, curious, and the half-smile flashes across Lance's face again. "I seem to remember that you don't like crowds," he explains.
The following hall is filled with tables, each one with twelve seats with full place settings before them. Lance leads Red down the center aisle, and Pikachu hops out of his arms now that he's not in danger of being stepped on. The noises of the crowd fade as they approach the large stage at the other end of the hall.
They stop at a table right in front of the stage. Lance gestures toward a small placard that reads Red in rolling script. "Dinner should be starting in about ten minutes," Lance says. "I'll let Green and Leaf know where you are."
Red sits down and Pikachu jumps into his lap. The two of them stare at the forest of forks, knives, and spoons that surround the plate. Lance hovers behind them for a moment, just at the edge of Red's peripheral vision. "You'll be all right here?" he asks. Red nods, handing Pikachu the tiniest spoon, which he seems particularly interested in. Lance hesitates for another moment, then says, "Well, excuse me," and turns on his heel, returning to the party.
The doors close, leaving Red in silence, and he instantly slumps back against his chair, closing his eyes. Pikachu drops the spoon and dives to the floor after it. Red listens to him batting it back and forth underneath the table and breathes out.
--
His grandfather, as always, is late.
It is to be expected of the professor, and most everyone is used to it by now. Green certainly is. Professor Oak had been over two hours late to the dinner held in honor of his grandson’s appointment to the Viridian City Gym. “You know that Grandfather isn’t one for events like this,” Daisy had told him in that soft, apologetic way of hers. It was the perennial sort of tone she used whenever their grandfather did something that disappointed him. “He’s probably just being fashionably late to avoid having to make small talk.”
“Please,” Green had mumbled bitterly over the edge of his glass of apple cider, “Gramps isn’t fashionable about anything.”
The tie around his neck at the moment is proof enough of that, he thinks.
Presently, Leaf slips an arm into the crook of his elbow. “Have you seen Red?” she asks, her brown eyes skimming over the crowd.
“Do I look like his keeper?” he retorts.
“A simple yes or no would have been great.” Leaf’s tone is level, her face impassive as she continues her search of the ballroom. When a waiter bearing a trayful of champagne flutes passes by, she grins at him thankfully and catches one between her index finger and thumb. “I’m worried about him; you know he hates crowds.”
“A little socialization like this might not cure him, but it won’t break him either.” He snorts meanly, and pauses to take another large swallow of his scotch and soda. “At least not any more than he’s always been.”
Leaf’s eyes narrow at him, her arm going tense against his own. “That was totally uncalled for, Green,” she hisses.
To their right, someone clears their throat. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Lance says apologetically.
“Not at all,” Green replies briskly.
Leaf removes her arm from his and takes a long sip of champagne. The dragon master’s dark eyes flit between the two of them for a moment, sensing the tension. When Leaf smiles at him as a gesture to go on, he says, “I escorted Red to the dining room a few moments ago. I thought you two would like to know.”
The statement catches Leaf mid-swallow, and her mouth works soundlessly for the briefest of moments. Once she’s swallowed the champagne, she says, “Thank you, Lance. We were just wondering where he’d gone.”
Lance discreetly keeps his eyes off Green as the gym leader rolls his eyes. “Dinner will be starting in a few minutes. Would you like me to show you the way to him?”
There is a ripple of noise in the crowd. It swallows Leaf’s response, which Green is sure is an affirmative anyway. He cranes his head away from the others, turning toward the doors, and catches sight of a head of gray hair.
Green pulls back the sleeve of his suit and dress shirt to peer at his watch. This time, Professor Oak has arrived only fifty-six minutes late.
That familiar feeling of dread rises inside of him once his grandfather spots him and begins to make his way over. Green avoids his gaze and turns toward Leaf, who has already begun to follow Lance through the parted crowds.
“Leaf,” he calls, his voice loud enough to attract a few looks. “Leaf!”
He sees her hair flow with the turn of her head, and then she too is obscured from him.
“Shit,” Green mutters under his breath. He can feel his grandfather’s eyes on him as he draws closer. Briefly, Green considers darting into the crowd to follow Leaf. Ignoring Red is easy; he’s been doing a pretty good job of it so far.
The same can’t be said about ignoring Oak, however. “Shit,” he repeats much more venomously.
With great effort, he stays rooted to the spot and occupies his fingers with tapping at the edge of his nearly-empty glass.
“Green,” Oak greets him with a nod of his head, looking him over from head to feet.
“Gramps,” replies Green.
His scrutiny sated for the moment, Oak extends his hand. Green takes it after a few seconds, though the resulting handshake is flimsy at best.
The professor looks around for something, ignoring the glances of the people around him. He's is notorious for avoiding formal soirees like these. Extenuating circumstances in the lab, his RSVPs usually read. Pressing research to conduct is another favorite.
Oak’s eyes snap back to Green. “Where is the guest of honor?”
For neither the first nor the last time that night, Green subdues the urge to roll his eyes in response to that question. Though the alcohol in his system makes it considerably more difficult to resist, the intensity of his grandfather’s stare stirs the smallest tinge of guilt within him. The glass of liquor in his hand certainly doesn’t make it any easier; he feels like he’s been caught doing something forbidden.
Green has been well-acquainted with Gramps-related guilt for most of his life, though he tries to remind himself that he shouldn’t allow himself to feel that way. His grandfather has never been the kind of man that gives praise easily, too distracted by the latest discoveries about pokémon breeding or evolution—or, sometimes, the talented boy next door—to notice Green. When he first started out as a trainer, Green tried doing all the things he thought his grandfather wanted: catching wild pokémon to fill pages in the Pokédex, challenging Kanto’s gyms, becoming Champion. That, however, had only been half the game; the catch was he had to do it all better and faster than both Red and Leaf could.
When it turned out that he couldn’t beat Red no matter how hard he tried, he returned to Pallet Town to lick his wounds and sulk. Green could tell that Oak was doing his best to give him time, but his grandfather eventually tried to persuade him to "make himself useful"—there was work that needed to be done at the Sevii Islands, and Green, he said, would be perfect for the job.
Oak had contacted Celio, an associate of his on Knot Island, to recommend Green for an internship there. At the time, Green had been interested in Celio’s idea of a “Pokémon Network,” which would theoretically make it possible for pokémon in the Storage System to be transferred over long distances through the Internet, thus eliminating the need for intermediaries in both interregional travels and trades. It was a groundbreaking, challenging project, and Green had been disaffected enough with the idea of competitive battling at the time to let his grandfather push him towards helping Celio with his research.
In the end, things did not go as well as either of the Oaks had hoped. Green’s responsibilities, which basically involved keeping in contact with other the other regions’ researchers over the phone and compiling their data to keep Celio abreast of his colleagues’ progress, were time-consuming but not much else. After a few months of trying—and failing—to ignore how caged he felt by spending days at a time without going outside, watching Eevee nap out of boredom beside his computer screen for hours, he apologized to Celio and gave him his two weeks' notice. After that, he absconded to Hoenn on a whim, where he stayed in the houses of the friends he’d made after those numerous phone calls.
His grandfather had been quite disappointed with his decision, to say the least. Ever their go-between, Daisy called him to convey both her concern and their grandfather’s sentiments. “I think he’s embarrassed that you quit so suddenly, especially since he was the one to recommend you for the position,” Daisy’s voice said through the receiver.
“I need time,” Green replied. “Distance to figure everything out.” But the relationship between grandfather and grandson had grown more distant than ever after that. Green wasn't surprised when Professor Oak was late to his gym leader celebration. He was, instead, surprised that his grandfather had remembered to come at all.
Green's eyes refocus; he's at a party, his colleagues surround him, and he's talking to his grandfather, who's staring at him expectantly. Right. “Red’s in the dining room,” Green says, eager to be rid of the lingering guilt that dogs his thoughts. “Leaf and Lance went to, um, keep him company.”
Oak nods but remains where he is, staring at the spot above his grandson’s left shoulder. Green fidgets uncomfortably. He tries focusing on the clink of the ice within his glass, and he mostly succeeds, at least until the professor speaks up again.
“I trust that you have behaved accommodatingly towards Red?”
Green looks up, his mind tripping over the words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The professor clears his throat. “Red has been staying with the two of you, hasn’t he?"
“Yes,” he grits out.
“His mother worries about him,” says Oak. “You should encourage him to visit Pallet Town more often.”
Green almost chokes on a laugh. “I’ve been doing that since he first got here, Gramps.” More than that, actually, he wants to say, but he'd only have enough courage to mutter it under his breath, and his grandfather has never abided unclear articulation.
"He can be a stubborn boy,” Oak says. “Perhaps his mother and I should visit you instead.”
Green stiffens. "No." At his grandfather's startled look, he closes his eyes. "I know how much you hate leaving the lab," he says tightly. "Besides, he's already here. Why don't you just go see him?"
"Why aren't you with him?" his grandfather asks.
He opens his mouth, then closes it. He covers the motion by lifting his glass to take a quick drink. "I'm talking to my coworkers," he says. "Red will be fine on his own."
Oak turns, scanning the crowd. "There's quite a turnout here! I think I'd get lost if I tried to look for him myself." He turns to his grandson with a bemused smile. "Don't you think Red might feel the same way? Let's go find him."
Green takes a deep breath. It's always hard to argue with his grandfather, and harder still with alcohol and annoyance weighing on his tongue. He spends a moment gathering himself and trying to remember where Lance and Leaf went. "This way," he says finally, and takes off at a fast pace through the crowd. He successfully manages to stay out of easy conversation range until they reach the double doors. Two servers are opening them, revealing Lance in the center of the doorway.
"Dinner is about to be served," he announces to the crowd. "Please join us in the dining room."
Green heads towards Lance, who smiles when he sees the two of them. "Professor Oak," he says, reaching out to shake his hand. "It's an honor to have you with us tonight. May I show you two to your seats?"
"Actually, my grandfather was looking for Red," Green says.
"Red is sitting at your table," Lance says to Professor Oak. "We thought it was only fitting. You too, Green. This way."
Following Lance, Professor Oak and Green precede the crowd filtering into the dining room. When they reach their table, Green notes with relief that Leaf has situated herself between Red’s place and his own—but his lips thin when he sees that Professor Oak's name is on the plate next to his.
"Thank you," the professor says to Lance, who has pulled out his chair. He sits down with a heavy sigh, beaming at Red and Leaf. Lance glances at Green, but nods when he's waved off.
"I'm fine," Green says. "Thanks." Lance moves to his seat next to Red, and the large table is soon filled out with the other Elite Four members. It's the VIP table, evidently. Green wants to be proud that he's at the table that the whole room is watching, but he knows that it's not only because of his own merits. It's because of Red's—the wonder-child of Pallet Town, Professor Oak's prodigy.
Green leans back as his grandfather speaks to Red around him. Red hesitates before giving a short response, but the professor has never been one to pass up a captive audience, and soon he's giving a long lecture on the latest discoveries he's made on Cinnabar Island while Red listens with a mixture of fascination and relief. Meanwhile, Lance and Leaf have begun discussing—cape fashion trends, it sounds like.
He looks down at his empty plate, and Green Oak stares back at him. He picks the namecard up and jams it into his pocket before he can really think about it. He wishes he had Eevee with him, but she was tired and had wanted to rest. Green doesn't blame her. He'd wanted to stay home, too.
The dinnertime chatter swirls around him without touching him, and Green sighs, rubbing at his throbbing temple. It's going to be a long night, he thinks, but he's seen worse. The thought doesn't comfort him, but then again, it never has.
--
"And now to introduce our guest of honor, Red!" says Lance, his amplified voice bouncing off the walls of the conference hall.
The thundering applause swells as the spotlight settles on their table. Green rolls his eyes and leans further back in his chair to duck out of the light.
From the seat beside hers, Red's gaze catches Leaf's and holds it. She sees nothing in them but the urge to run.
Once Red reaches the stage, Green shoves his seat back. "I'm leaving," he mutters. Leaf can barely hear him over the continuing cheers. Professor Oak glances up, but his attention quickly strays back to the boy on the stage.
Leaf catches his hand, looking up at him, but he pulls free. "You coming?" he asks. He hesitates when she shakes her head, then drops a rushed kiss onto her cheek. "Yeah, I can't do this. I'll see you later," he says, knowing she'll use his credit card for the cab fare.
Even after Red's back in his seat, slowly relaxing as the room's ambient chatter returns to its normal level, Red's panicked expression, the silent cry for escape, sticks in Leaf's mind. It gets her thinking.
--
The taxi drops them off in front of the apartment building.
Leaf pulls a card from her purse and swipes it through the built-in credit card scanner.
“Have a good night,” she tells the cabbie, who had been eying Pikachu warningly through the rearview mirror the entire ride over. Red can’t really blame him; pikachu are rather infamous around these parts for chewing on wires and wrecking entire electrical systems.
After insisting that they take the elevator instead of the stairs, Leaf rummages through her clutch outside the door. "You'd think it'd be easier to find my key in this thing," she says. Her tone is slightly apologetic, though Red is not sure what she is apologizing for.
After another moment of waiting, she finally pulls the key out between her index and middle fingers. "Here we go," she says softly, her tone relieved.
Red attributes the difficulty she encounters in trying to get the key into its lock to the flutes of champagne she had plucked from the waiters' trays at the party.
The door swings open to reveal a dark, empty apartment. It's already past two, so Eevee is probably sound asleep. Green isn’t anywhere in sight either, so he is probably asleep as well. Red steps in gingerly, and Leaf closes the door behind them as quietly as she can. After she clicks the door locked, she flicks the hall light on.
"It's cold," Leaf notes. She crosses her arms and runs her palms along the bare skin of her forearms, her body shivering. "Green likes keeping this place like an ice box."
She walks down the hallway to adjust the thermostat, leaving Red to stand awkwardly in the doorway. It's been a month, but Red cannot seem to get used to this place. He still wakes up expecting to feel the hard edge of the bedrock against his back and the bite of Mount Silver's cold nipping at his face. Opening his eyes to the apartment's low ceilings and the sagging leather of the couch makes him feel constrained and suffocated. Pikachu does not seem to share this problem; he hops off his trainer’s shoulder and scampers onto the couch, where he makes himself comfortable in a bed of pillows, and Red envies the pokémon for the ease with which he's adapted to their new surroundings.
Leaf's presence is announced by the rumble of the air conditioner through the vents. "Don't just stand there," she says as she walks past him and towards the kitchen. "Come in."
He does as he is told and follows her.
"I don't know about you, but the food they served at that thing didn't fill me up at all." She peers into the pantry for a moment before reaching in. "Want some crackers?" she asks, brandishing an open package of Ritz. When she sees Red eying the twisted ends, she says, "I keep forgetting to stop by the supermarket after work, so this is all we've got."
He shrugs at her in response, but they end up pulling out adjacent chairs at the kitchen table together anyway. They eat in companionable silence, the crackers too stale to crunch as they chew.
When they finish, Leaf crinkles the package into a ball and tosses it into the bin. "These shoes are killing me," she says a few moments later, her voice too tired for it sound like a complaint. "The dress too."
Red licks at his dry lips and tastes salt.
The scrape of her chair against the tile draws his gaze, but he does not follow her this time.
He knows he should turn in soon as well. His eyes burn with tiredness, the buzz of sleep deprivation settling in the space between them, right above the bridge of his nose. He is used to sleeping and rising with the sun; this is another thing he suspects he will never be able to leave behind, though his body already has. His sleeping patterns have shifted, and now Red falls asleep to reruns of years-old recordings of trainers challenging the Elite Four and rises once Leaf and Green have already gone off to work. It is disorienting, to say the least.
Red rises and heads for the hall closet that Leaf has relegated to his use to retrieve his pajamas. On his way, however, he catches sight of Leaf through the open door to the bedroom.
She is standing in front of her dresser, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she undoes the clasps of her earrings. The curve of her back is pale in the moonlight streaming in through the window, and the strands of her hair brush against the expanse of skin and upper edges of the dress with her movements.
Leaf is visibly startled when she catches sight of him in the mirror. "What?" she whispers.
He is not quite sure he wants to say, how to piece everything he has seen in a manner he can articulate. No matter how he tries to puzzle it out, he finds that he cannot reconcile the memories of his childhood friend with the woman in the bedroom, the woman she’s become. Not completely.
For the first time since he left Mt. Silver, Red feels small.
"You grew up," he offers simply.
She sets her earrings down on the dresser and turns toward him. Her smile looks sad when she says, "We all have."
Red finds that he cannot argue with that.
“Do you think you could close the door?” she asks. She draws the length of her index finger over her lips, and Red nods before quietly moving toward the doorway. The doorknob feels cold against his palm when he lightly wraps his fingers around it and pulls.
He catches a glimpse of a huddled form on the bed that must be Green—a tuft of chestnut hair sticking out from under the duvet—before the door shuts.
Chapter IV