Kuruk and Sonata (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
before_i_sleep) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
miles_to_go2012-08-23 01:44 am
before_i_sleep) wrote in miles_to_go2012-08-23 01:44 am
Entry tags:
Chapter IV: The Proposal
Chapter III
Chapter IV: The Proposal
"Bonita told me you've got almost two years of vacation time stored up," Leaf says, too casually.
Eevee looks up at her, and Green pauses in the middle of pulling his boot on.
Leaf takes the seat beside him at the table. "What are you going to do with it?"
Green shrugs. "Hadn't thought about it."
"It's been almost a year since we've gone anywhere, you know."
"We took that trip to Saffron." Green turns his attention to his other boot.
"A weekend away doesn't count." Leaf waits, then adds, "Not to me."
Green's hands jerk as he zips up the backs of his boots. "Do we have to talk about this right now?"
Leaf props her chin on her hands. "When do you want to talk about it?"
"I don't know." He sighs, feeling Leaf's eyes on him. "Tonight, I guess. I'm going to be late."
"Oh, Green, you're the only one who cares about that." She reaches out and tweaks his sleeve—an old gesture.
He scrapes up a smile, then turns away. "Come on, Eevee."
He shuts the door quietly in deference to the boy still sleeping on the sofa. Leaf idles for a while longer, listening to the seconds tick by on the clock. She looks up suddenly, toward Red.
"Seven years," she whispers.
When the clock reaches 8:39, she gets up and pulls her coat on. Her mind moves towards the coming day, the sea of familiar faces, the smells and sights of the same sixty dishes placed on tables she's cleaned a hundred times. Her fingers almost catch in the door as she pulls it shut behind her.
--
Leaf works at a diner a few blocks away from the apartment.
Located in what is rapidly becoming known as Viridian City’s burgeoning design district, the trailer-shaped restaurant is now considered a relic from the more dated chapters of the city’s history. It persists all the same, tacky aluminum exterior and all. Unlike the other establishments in the area that had been deemed unfashionable, it stubbornly resists going out of business and giving way to yet another ‘underground’ art gallery or the owners of that one vegan chain that keep trying to buy them out.
Sure, it may not the best place to be employed, but Leaf likes it. The passerby take one look at the cracked vinyl of the booths and the old jukebox (that has a rather amusing propensity to play “The Shoop Shoop Song” no matter what combination of buttons one presses) and see an unkempt dump, but Leaf thinks it has spunk. Most of the food on the menu is definitely on the greasy side, but they serve what must be the best strawberry milkshakes in the city. The ambiance—a mismatched collection of ‘50s, ‘60s, and ‘70s Unovan paraphernalia—almost makes up for the pay, which is pretty lousy. She does have a few regulars that pop in for lunch every other day, and their tips are good enough to pay for most things that catch her fancy in the storefront windows she walks past on her way home.
The milkshakes, admittedly, account for a large part of why Leaf elected to work there. Neither her mother nor Green seem able to understand that rationale, however.
Her mother likes to bring up the ‘employment situation’ every time she calls or—god forbid—visits. “I just don’t understand why such an intelligent young woman like yourself would have to stoop to serving people their lunches.” She likes bookending this time-honored complaint—which is delivered in an appropriately horrified tone for emphasis—with dramatic, long-suffering sighs; Leaf has to refrain from sighing in frustration herself.
It’s much easier for her to avoid the question over the phone than during a meal. While her boyfriend tends to disagree with the woman on most things, they do share a dislike of Leaf’s career choices. Pinned down by the combination of her mother’s accusations and Green’s studied, nonchalantly pointed looks, her usually tactful avoidance techniques devolve into forceful subject changes and tight smiles that promise him a round of the silent treatment when they get back to the apartment.
For his part, Green has stopped bringing up his own disdain about her job. It took a particularly large fight that ended with his exile to the couch for a week and a half, but he has made an effort to stop. However, she still has to bear his sour looks whenever she recounts the tale of a rude customer and how Ralph, the gargantuan, almost nonverbal cook, kicked them out or the latest—and ultimately doomed—romantic endeavor of Angie, her fellow waitress. She stops talking about work altogether after a while.
In truth, while her love for milkshakes is deep and abiding, it is not exactly the real reason she works there.
The lunch crowd isn’t as big as it used to be since that new free-range only joint opened down the street, but Leaf enjoys the constant movement waitressing requires, the small thrill of encountering a new customer to make small-talk with while she jots down their order. In the smallest of ways, it simulates her old lifestyle—the satisfying ache of her feet and thighs after trekking miles to get to the next Pokémon Center, the easy companionship that comes with trading stories with a fellow trainer after the occasional battle. Said new customers are usually traveling trainers who are just passing by anyway, so the verisimilitude is pretty much complete.
Unlike the individuals she met while journeying through Hoenn and Sinnoh, however, these trainers mope almost exclusively about their defeat at the hands of the Viridian Gym Leader, and—well, that undoes some of the similarities, doesn’t it?
Like most things in her new life, it can’t really compare to what she used to do before.
Still, Leaf resolves to get the best out of what she has, and she does for the most part. When she manages to sell Green on her idea, she’ll have captured three pidgey with one poké ball. Things will have to get better after that; she just knows it.
She takes a sip of the milkshake she’s drinking, which is particularly tasty today. She makes a mental note to extend her compliments to Angie after her break is over, who—speak of the devil—appears to interrupt her mid-slurp.
Leaf quirks her eyebrows and makes a show of looking rather pointedly at the Elvis Presley-themed clock over the counter.
At least Angie has the decency to look apologetic. “Sorry for interrupting your break, Leaf, but someone’s here to see you.”
Curiosity piqued, Leaf leans across the counter to peek out from her preferred lunch break corner at the line of booths by the window. She catches sight of a familiar yellow-and-black brim of a cap before quickly darting back for cover.
“Shit,” Leaf mutters. She chews on her bottom lip and considers her options for a moment before looking back up at Angie. “Could you take care of him, Ang? Tell him I’ve got, like, fifteen minutes left on my break.”
“Already did,” the other waitress replies. “He said that he’d wait for you ‘til you’re done.” When Leaf’s expression sours, Angie snorts. “Trust me, hon, I would pay to take that customer off your hands.”
Grabbing her apron from the back of her chair, Leaf smiles weakly. “Bidding starts at one poké!” she calls to Angie’s retreating back before it disappears into the kitchen.
After she ties on her apron, Leaf eyes the back of the customer’s head with frustration, takes a deep breath, and walks to his table. “Welcome to Ralph’s,” she says without much enthusiasm. “What can I get you?”
The boy blinks at her over his sunglasses before quirking his lips in a slightly strained version of his usual smirk. “What? I’ve been bumped back down to the place’s standard greeting again?”
Leaf rolls her eyes and opts to look out the window. “Are those shades supposed to make you look cool or something?” she asks, watching disinterestedly as a couple in trendy, matching outfits walk hand in hand across the street.
Though he tries to cover it up with a scoff, Leaf can still see his cheeks redden out of the corner of her eye. “Why? You like them?” Leaf begins tapping her foot on the fire engine-red carpet, and he abruptly changes his approach. “Dunno. They help with avoiding people recognizing me.”
“I thought you ate all that up.”
“I do!” he retorts. “I really like it sometimes. It... it just gets a little old when you can’t walk down the street without someone asking for an autograph or a battle, you know?”
Reminded of Red, she frowns. “Yeah, I know.”
A moment of silence settles between them. Once the couple outside has walked out of sight, Leaf turns her gaze to the boy. “What do you want, Ethan?”
The Indigo League Champion seems to hesitate. After a couple of seconds, he licks his lips and gestures at the seat opposite him and across the table. “Wanna sit?”
“Can’t,” she replies quickly. “I’m working.”
“Bullshit,” he says without any real malice. “The other waitress told me you were on a break.”
Shit, she thinks heatedly. Nevertheless, a long career of semi-professional pokémon battling has taught her when and how to accept defeat. Arms crossed tightly over her chest, she squeezes into the seat opposite Ethan, ever mindful of where the cracks are relative to her calves.
“We’re called servers now,” she retorts belatedly, lamely.
Ethan forces another smirk and pushes up at his glasses, hiding his eyes from her. He waits a moment before he says, “I’ll be sure to remember that.” His voice is strained too, and she just knows that he isn’t really looking at her underneath those concealing lenses.
Leaf rubs at her temples wearily, mentally kicking herself a little. Nice, Leaf. You tell him it’s not his fault, and then you treat him like it is. Real smooth.
“Sorry,” she says, her tone softening. “I was being rude.”
“Not really....”
“Yeah,” she insists, “I was. It’s not an excuse or anything, but it’s been pretty stressful lately, what with all the thinking I’ve been doing about this trip and the way it feels like a voltorb’s about to self-destruct all the time....” She looks up and offers him a shrug and a tired smile, this one actually reaching her eyes.
He remains silent while she speaks, his shoulders squared. Once she has finished, he says, “It’s okay.”
Leaf stares at where his eyes are beneath the glasses for a few seconds before nodding decisively. “So, what can I get for you on this fine afternoon? The milkshakes are pretty mind-blowing today; Angie must have put something extra in them or something.”
“Nah,” Ethan says, scratching his head a little. “I should go soon anyway.” He fiddles with his glasses again. “I just wanted to ask how he... how the thing at the Indigo Plateau went?”
A frown pulls at her lips as images of the night in question reappear in her mind’s eye: the panic on Red’s face when he was called onstage, the way Green had stormed out so soon, how Professor Oak had worn a troubled frown on his face for the rest of the night.
Upon remembering whom she’s talking to, Leaf smooths the frown off her face before it fully takes shape. “It went okay,” she lies.
“R-really?” he very nearly squeaks. He’s positively beaming for the briefest of moments before he remembers himself and reins it in. “He liked it?”
“Well,” she begins, “I wouldn’t say he liked it, but seeing everyone again for the first time in years probably did him a world of good.”
Ethan mulls this over for a moment before nodding slowly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “That’s cool. I’m glad it worked.”
She nods back at him. Above the counter, Elvis’s right hand indicates that her break was over a couple of minutes ago. “I gotta get back to work. For real this time too.” She gets to her feet and stretches a little, extending her arms over her head. “You sure you don’t want anything before you go?”
He shakes his head absently, his attentions clearly elsewhere. Leaf snorts to herself. She turns to leave, hoping that she can finish her milkshake before the next customer pops in.
“Leaf?” Ethan calls.
She smirks and turns around, pulling out her notepad and pen. “I knew you couldn’t resist Angie’s milkshakes,” she says. “Or was it Ralph’s infamous eggs and sausage?”
The jab seems to go over the Champion’s head. “You’re going on vacation?” he asks.
Well, that catches her off guard. “Huh?”
Ethan lowers his glasses. The gold irises of his eyes shine dully in the sunlight streaming through the window. “You said you were thinking about a trip earlier,” he qualifies. “So... where are you going?”
She chuckles a little, carding her fingers through her hair a bit absently. “I did, didn’t I?” She pauses, considering. “Well....” She stops speaking and moves towards his table, considering whether or not she should tell him about the plans she’d been entertaining since the night of the party.
Then again, what could it hurt?
“I was hoping to go on a trip to Unova.” She drums the fingers of her left hand against the scratched tabletop, only the slightest bit relieved to finally talk about her plans aloud. “I think all of us could really use the time off.”
“Unova? That sounds awesome. I’ve always wanted to go too, maybe challenge their League. What kind of trip?”
“Call me crazy, but I was actually thinking of touring the entire region.”
Ethan shakes his head, the movement vehement. “That’s not crazy at all!”
“Really?” she asks, the question directed more at herself than him. “Is that even doable? Green is sitting on a couple years’ worth of vacation time, but getting him to take a long weekend off from the gym is hard enough as it is. Besides, most regional tours take almost five months, three if you only hit the major cities....”
She worries her bottom lip, thinking of how ludicrous it would be if Green actually agreed to taking a few months off to backpack through Unova, of how unrealistic she is for even considering it.
Ethan’s eyes have lit up, almost like a new possibility has occurred to him. “It’s only a few weeks,” he says slowly, “if you go by car.”
Leaf blinks. A car...?
“You know,” he adds, undeterred by her silence, “like a road trip.”
Finally, she says, “I know what a road trip is, Captain Obvious.” Beaming herself now, she bends across the tabletop to enfold him in a grateful embrace. “You might just have a brain that’s good for something other than battling in there after all.” Before she pulls back, she brushes her lips against his cheek in a quick, thankful kiss.
Ethan’s cheeks match the carpet when she pulls back. “H-hey,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “That’s Champion Obvious to you, waitress.”
She smacks him on the arm for that, though she can’t quite wipe the excited smile off her face. “Careful, Champ, or this waitress will slip a little something unpleasant in your next meal....”
“Oh, sorry!” Ethan shouts obnoxiously. “I forgot you preferred to be called servant!”
Leaf flips him the spearow on her way to the kitchen and her coworkers, who pretend not to listen to her absolutely riveting conversation with the League Champion of both Johto and Kanto. “Go do your job and get the hell out of my diner, Mr. Champion.”
A road trip, huh?
A plan like that—well, it might actually work.
--
Green is in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a late dinner. "—so Machamp fainted, too," he's saying. "I finished the battle off with Arcanine. I haven't had a battle like that in a while." He sounds irritated instead of pleased. "I had to stop by the Pokémon Center afterwards. Didn't even get half the work done I wanted to."
"Machamp shouldn't have fainted," Red says.
Green's knife slams into the chopping board. At the jarring silence, Leaf gets up and peeks into the kitchen. Green has turned to scowl at Red, and Red is staring back impassively, his head tilted to the side.
"Like you would have done anything differently," Green snarls.
Red nods. "Would have used Stone Edge."
The two men exchange glares before Green throws up his hands. "Forget it," he snaps, and pushes past Leaf to storm into the bedroom. Leaf's half-expecting the door to slam behind him, and breathes a sigh of relief when it stays open.
When she follows Green, she finds him prowling back and forth across the cluttered floor. Eevee is sitting upright on the bed, tracking her trainer with concerned eyes as he moves. "You want to go somewhere?" he says. "Fine. Let's go. Anywhere you want, it's fine."
She steps inside, closing the door behind her. "Red has to come, too."
Green whirls. "No.”
"You can't just keep running away from this," Leaf says.
"I'm not running away!"
Leaf looks at the track he's worn into the carpet.
Green follows her gaze before his eyes snap back to hers, glaring. "I'm not running away," he repeats. "I just don't want him in my life. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"
"Because he's already in your life," she says. "You have to make peace with him, Green."
He gestures towards the door. "I'm not the one who just picked that fight!"
"Red was just trying to help. He's trying to be your friend!"
Green barks out a laugh. "You still think we're friends? Maybe you forgot how he—"
"You won't let me forget! You're the one who's stuck on things that happened almost ten years ago—"
Green's sharp intake of breath makes her pause. Eevee jumps from the bed onto his shoulder, and he automatically reaches up to stabilize her. Leaf walks over but doesn't try to touch him. She can hear Eevee purring hard as she rubs against his cheek, but Green's shuttered expression doesn't change.
"You need closure," she tells him gently. "We all do. I just want to fix this, all right? I just want you to be happy."
"I was happy," he mutters.
Leaf steps in front of him and puts her hands on his shoulders. He doesn't resist, but he doesn't lean into her, either. "Come on, Green, let's go on a trip," she tells him. "Just for a few weeks. You know the two of you have a lot to talk about."
"I don't have anything to say to him."
"Maybe you don't," she says, "but you have a lot of things you want to hear."
--
Pikachu comes bolting out of the bedroom the second Green opens the door and heads straight for his trainer. Red kneels down and catches Pikachu as he leaps into his arms.
A moment later, the shouting in the bedroom starts. Red closes his eyes, breathing in the familiar smell of static. "He's getting soft," he murmurs regretfully into Pikachu's ear. Pikachu licks the tip of his nose.
He stands after a while and moves towards the job Green left unfinished, setting Pikachu down on the counter beside the chopping board. He studies the small pile of vegetables that have already been chopped, trying to figure out what needs to be done. The knife feels clumsy in his hand.
When Leaf and Green finally come out of the bedroom, the unevenly cut vegetables are simmering in a pot half-filled with water. The chopping board and knife have been cleaned, and Red is gone.
--
Even at night, Kanto in June is almost unbearably hot, and Red's steps are slow as he climbs the stairs to Green and Leaf's second floor apartment. Pikachu is a little faster, and when Red reaches the landing, he finds his pokémon pawing at the door.
The porch light is on, but he quickly discovers that the door is locked. Red jams his hands back into his pockets, staring at the deadbolt. Pikachu makes a questioning noise, but Red shakes his head. Breaking and entering is a bad idea; Green would most likely press charges. Besides, it's not like they're unused to sleeping outside anyway, and the soft loam of the Viridian Forest floor might even be better than the couch.
When Red turns to leave, Pikachu's ears droop. The pokémon calls softly at the closed door, but the droning whine of nincada song, ever-present once the summer starts, is his only response. Pikachu looks over his shoulder at his trainer, who jerks his head towards the stairs—then pauses.
Pikachu follows Red's gaze to see Eevee's face pressed against the window, her black eyes gleaming in the dim light. Her answering cry is silenced by the glass.
Pikachu leaps up onto Red's shoulder so that he can see her more clearly. Eevee places both paws against the glass, their pads pink and uncalloused, before she drops back to all fours. She points with her nose towards the bottom left corner of the window, and gives another muted cry.
Red kneels down, feeling Pikachu dig his nails into his shoulder to keep his balance. To the left of the window, beside the door, is a large potted plant. He points at it, and Eevee nods, scratching one paw fitfully against the window.
It seems to be an ordinary pot, without any hidden switches or compartments. Pikachu starts to dig up the soil, but Eevee's protest is so loud that it manages to filter faintly through the glass. Finally, Red heaves the pot a few inches off the ground—just high enough for Pikachu to dart underneath it and snag a dull gold key.
Pikachu leaps from Red's shoulder the moment the door opens wide enough for him to fit through, and he joins Eevee on the floor, purring as she nuzzles his cheek. Red slips through the door and closes it with a quiet click, kneeling to pull off his shoes.
Eevee is circling Pikachu now, sniffing at all the new scents he's picked up on their walk through the forest. She sneezes at him and flattens her ears, then begins to lick his face with fastidious care. Pikachu squeaks at the treatment and turns away from her, following Red as he walks across the room towards the couch.
Both pokémon jump up to share his lap once he sits down. He reaches out to run a gentle hand down Eevee's back, feeling muscles underneath a layer of fat. Curious, he tickles her, and nods when she twists away, lightning-quick. She pouts at him, but closes her eyes with pleasure when he scratches under her chin.
Pikachu leans across Red's lap to headbutt her gently. "Pika?" he asks, and she sits up at once, hopping down from the couch and darting away to hide in the apartment's shadows. Pikachu buries his face in Red's shirt, muttering softly. Red counts with him, silently, up to ten.
"Pika!" he calls out, flying off the couch to search for Eevee's hiding place. Red watches his pokémon hunt through the apartment, looking in the spaces between furniture and slithering underneath Green's desk, piled high with papers that nearly obscure his PC from view. He can feel the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
When Pikachu finds her hiding underneath the kitchen sink, she shrieks and bolts away. They chase each other through the apartment, finally tumbling over the back of the couch and into a pile beside Red. Eevee lands on top of Pikachu and sits on him, triumphant, before she freezes.
"Eevee?" Red hears Green say from behind them, his voice raspy with sleep.
Red turns to look at Green, who's standing in the bedroom door. His hair is more rumpled than usual, and his expression is unreadable.
"You locked me out," Red says.
Green reaches up to rest a hand on the doorframe. Eevee rolls off of Pikachu, and the two of them peek over the couch at Green. The other man opens his mouth to say something, closes it, swallows. "Force of habit," he mutters.
Pikachu turns and nuzzles Eevee, and she lets out a little squeak. Green frowns. "Eevee," he calls, his tone calm but authoritative, and her ears twitch in response. She jumps over the couch and trots over to Green, who lifts her in his arms and looks into her eyes.
"I told you," Green mutters softly to her, and flinches a little when she licks his face.
Red and Pikachu are still staring at them over the couch when Green looks up. "What," he says.
"You should train with her more."
Green pulls Eevee in against his chest. "She's already too strong to use at the gym," he snaps.
Red shakes his head. "That's not—"
"Then what is it?"
There's a pause before Red speaks again. "She's fast, but she's not strong. Not anymore."
"Oh, I see. All right, so give me some advice, Champ," Green spits. "Should I starve my pokemon at the top of a mountain, too?"
Pikachu snarls, and Red's eyes narrow in that old, dangerous way of his.
Green's smile shines sharp over the small, squirming body in his arms. "Oh, come on," he says. "Don't tell me I hurt your feelings."
"You should go to sleep," Red says, resting a hand on Pikachu's back.
"Or what?" Green says. "You going to make m—ow!"
Eevee's nip nearly makes Green drop her, and there's a moment of chaos where Green scrambles to keep her in his arms and Eevee fastens her claws in his shirt. When Green looks up again, Red's expression has shifted back to its usual neutral state, and Pikachu has vanished from view.
Green pulls a hand free to rub at his temple. "You know what, I am just too tired to deal with you right now," he mutters. "I'm heading back to bed." He doesn't move to leave, though, and Red stares at him until he shifts his weight, frowning. "Whatever," he finally mutters, and turns away. The door closes behind him with a quiet bump. It seems anticlimactic.
Red looks at Pikachu, who's curled into an annoyed ball in his lap. Then he sighs and throws himself onto his side, his head hitting the pillow and folded-up blanket on the end of the sofa. Pikachu spills onto the cushions with a startled squeak, and mutters for a moment before he curls up again, this time in the hollow of Red's body. It's a familiar position, and it softens the pressure that lingers in the back of Red's throat.
Chapter V
Chapter IV: The Proposal
"Bonita told me you've got almost two years of vacation time stored up," Leaf says, too casually.
Eevee looks up at her, and Green pauses in the middle of pulling his boot on.
Leaf takes the seat beside him at the table. "What are you going to do with it?"
Green shrugs. "Hadn't thought about it."
"It's been almost a year since we've gone anywhere, you know."
"We took that trip to Saffron." Green turns his attention to his other boot.
"A weekend away doesn't count." Leaf waits, then adds, "Not to me."
Green's hands jerk as he zips up the backs of his boots. "Do we have to talk about this right now?"
Leaf props her chin on her hands. "When do you want to talk about it?"
"I don't know." He sighs, feeling Leaf's eyes on him. "Tonight, I guess. I'm going to be late."
"Oh, Green, you're the only one who cares about that." She reaches out and tweaks his sleeve—an old gesture.
He scrapes up a smile, then turns away. "Come on, Eevee."
He shuts the door quietly in deference to the boy still sleeping on the sofa. Leaf idles for a while longer, listening to the seconds tick by on the clock. She looks up suddenly, toward Red.
"Seven years," she whispers.
When the clock reaches 8:39, she gets up and pulls her coat on. Her mind moves towards the coming day, the sea of familiar faces, the smells and sights of the same sixty dishes placed on tables she's cleaned a hundred times. Her fingers almost catch in the door as she pulls it shut behind her.
--
Leaf works at a diner a few blocks away from the apartment.
Located in what is rapidly becoming known as Viridian City’s burgeoning design district, the trailer-shaped restaurant is now considered a relic from the more dated chapters of the city’s history. It persists all the same, tacky aluminum exterior and all. Unlike the other establishments in the area that had been deemed unfashionable, it stubbornly resists going out of business and giving way to yet another ‘underground’ art gallery or the owners of that one vegan chain that keep trying to buy them out.
Sure, it may not the best place to be employed, but Leaf likes it. The passerby take one look at the cracked vinyl of the booths and the old jukebox (that has a rather amusing propensity to play “The Shoop Shoop Song” no matter what combination of buttons one presses) and see an unkempt dump, but Leaf thinks it has spunk. Most of the food on the menu is definitely on the greasy side, but they serve what must be the best strawberry milkshakes in the city. The ambiance—a mismatched collection of ‘50s, ‘60s, and ‘70s Unovan paraphernalia—almost makes up for the pay, which is pretty lousy. She does have a few regulars that pop in for lunch every other day, and their tips are good enough to pay for most things that catch her fancy in the storefront windows she walks past on her way home.
The milkshakes, admittedly, account for a large part of why Leaf elected to work there. Neither her mother nor Green seem able to understand that rationale, however.
Her mother likes to bring up the ‘employment situation’ every time she calls or—god forbid—visits. “I just don’t understand why such an intelligent young woman like yourself would have to stoop to serving people their lunches.” She likes bookending this time-honored complaint—which is delivered in an appropriately horrified tone for emphasis—with dramatic, long-suffering sighs; Leaf has to refrain from sighing in frustration herself.
It’s much easier for her to avoid the question over the phone than during a meal. While her boyfriend tends to disagree with the woman on most things, they do share a dislike of Leaf’s career choices. Pinned down by the combination of her mother’s accusations and Green’s studied, nonchalantly pointed looks, her usually tactful avoidance techniques devolve into forceful subject changes and tight smiles that promise him a round of the silent treatment when they get back to the apartment.
For his part, Green has stopped bringing up his own disdain about her job. It took a particularly large fight that ended with his exile to the couch for a week and a half, but he has made an effort to stop. However, she still has to bear his sour looks whenever she recounts the tale of a rude customer and how Ralph, the gargantuan, almost nonverbal cook, kicked them out or the latest—and ultimately doomed—romantic endeavor of Angie, her fellow waitress. She stops talking about work altogether after a while.
In truth, while her love for milkshakes is deep and abiding, it is not exactly the real reason she works there.
The lunch crowd isn’t as big as it used to be since that new free-range only joint opened down the street, but Leaf enjoys the constant movement waitressing requires, the small thrill of encountering a new customer to make small-talk with while she jots down their order. In the smallest of ways, it simulates her old lifestyle—the satisfying ache of her feet and thighs after trekking miles to get to the next Pokémon Center, the easy companionship that comes with trading stories with a fellow trainer after the occasional battle. Said new customers are usually traveling trainers who are just passing by anyway, so the verisimilitude is pretty much complete.
Unlike the individuals she met while journeying through Hoenn and Sinnoh, however, these trainers mope almost exclusively about their defeat at the hands of the Viridian Gym Leader, and—well, that undoes some of the similarities, doesn’t it?
Like most things in her new life, it can’t really compare to what she used to do before.
Still, Leaf resolves to get the best out of what she has, and she does for the most part. When she manages to sell Green on her idea, she’ll have captured three pidgey with one poké ball. Things will have to get better after that; she just knows it.
She takes a sip of the milkshake she’s drinking, which is particularly tasty today. She makes a mental note to extend her compliments to Angie after her break is over, who—speak of the devil—appears to interrupt her mid-slurp.
Leaf quirks her eyebrows and makes a show of looking rather pointedly at the Elvis Presley-themed clock over the counter.
At least Angie has the decency to look apologetic. “Sorry for interrupting your break, Leaf, but someone’s here to see you.”
Curiosity piqued, Leaf leans across the counter to peek out from her preferred lunch break corner at the line of booths by the window. She catches sight of a familiar yellow-and-black brim of a cap before quickly darting back for cover.
“Shit,” Leaf mutters. She chews on her bottom lip and considers her options for a moment before looking back up at Angie. “Could you take care of him, Ang? Tell him I’ve got, like, fifteen minutes left on my break.”
“Already did,” the other waitress replies. “He said that he’d wait for you ‘til you’re done.” When Leaf’s expression sours, Angie snorts. “Trust me, hon, I would pay to take that customer off your hands.”
Grabbing her apron from the back of her chair, Leaf smiles weakly. “Bidding starts at one poké!” she calls to Angie’s retreating back before it disappears into the kitchen.
After she ties on her apron, Leaf eyes the back of the customer’s head with frustration, takes a deep breath, and walks to his table. “Welcome to Ralph’s,” she says without much enthusiasm. “What can I get you?”
The boy blinks at her over his sunglasses before quirking his lips in a slightly strained version of his usual smirk. “What? I’ve been bumped back down to the place’s standard greeting again?”
Leaf rolls her eyes and opts to look out the window. “Are those shades supposed to make you look cool or something?” she asks, watching disinterestedly as a couple in trendy, matching outfits walk hand in hand across the street.
Though he tries to cover it up with a scoff, Leaf can still see his cheeks redden out of the corner of her eye. “Why? You like them?” Leaf begins tapping her foot on the fire engine-red carpet, and he abruptly changes his approach. “Dunno. They help with avoiding people recognizing me.”
“I thought you ate all that up.”
“I do!” he retorts. “I really like it sometimes. It... it just gets a little old when you can’t walk down the street without someone asking for an autograph or a battle, you know?”
Reminded of Red, she frowns. “Yeah, I know.”
A moment of silence settles between them. Once the couple outside has walked out of sight, Leaf turns her gaze to the boy. “What do you want, Ethan?”
The Indigo League Champion seems to hesitate. After a couple of seconds, he licks his lips and gestures at the seat opposite him and across the table. “Wanna sit?”
“Can’t,” she replies quickly. “I’m working.”
“Bullshit,” he says without any real malice. “The other waitress told me you were on a break.”
Shit, she thinks heatedly. Nevertheless, a long career of semi-professional pokémon battling has taught her when and how to accept defeat. Arms crossed tightly over her chest, she squeezes into the seat opposite Ethan, ever mindful of where the cracks are relative to her calves.
“We’re called servers now,” she retorts belatedly, lamely.
Ethan forces another smirk and pushes up at his glasses, hiding his eyes from her. He waits a moment before he says, “I’ll be sure to remember that.” His voice is strained too, and she just knows that he isn’t really looking at her underneath those concealing lenses.
Leaf rubs at her temples wearily, mentally kicking herself a little. Nice, Leaf. You tell him it’s not his fault, and then you treat him like it is. Real smooth.
“Sorry,” she says, her tone softening. “I was being rude.”
“Not really....”
“Yeah,” she insists, “I was. It’s not an excuse or anything, but it’s been pretty stressful lately, what with all the thinking I’ve been doing about this trip and the way it feels like a voltorb’s about to self-destruct all the time....” She looks up and offers him a shrug and a tired smile, this one actually reaching her eyes.
He remains silent while she speaks, his shoulders squared. Once she has finished, he says, “It’s okay.”
Leaf stares at where his eyes are beneath the glasses for a few seconds before nodding decisively. “So, what can I get for you on this fine afternoon? The milkshakes are pretty mind-blowing today; Angie must have put something extra in them or something.”
“Nah,” Ethan says, scratching his head a little. “I should go soon anyway.” He fiddles with his glasses again. “I just wanted to ask how he... how the thing at the Indigo Plateau went?”
A frown pulls at her lips as images of the night in question reappear in her mind’s eye: the panic on Red’s face when he was called onstage, the way Green had stormed out so soon, how Professor Oak had worn a troubled frown on his face for the rest of the night.
Upon remembering whom she’s talking to, Leaf smooths the frown off her face before it fully takes shape. “It went okay,” she lies.
“R-really?” he very nearly squeaks. He’s positively beaming for the briefest of moments before he remembers himself and reins it in. “He liked it?”
“Well,” she begins, “I wouldn’t say he liked it, but seeing everyone again for the first time in years probably did him a world of good.”
Ethan mulls this over for a moment before nodding slowly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “That’s cool. I’m glad it worked.”
She nods back at him. Above the counter, Elvis’s right hand indicates that her break was over a couple of minutes ago. “I gotta get back to work. For real this time too.” She gets to her feet and stretches a little, extending her arms over her head. “You sure you don’t want anything before you go?”
He shakes his head absently, his attentions clearly elsewhere. Leaf snorts to herself. She turns to leave, hoping that she can finish her milkshake before the next customer pops in.
“Leaf?” Ethan calls.
She smirks and turns around, pulling out her notepad and pen. “I knew you couldn’t resist Angie’s milkshakes,” she says. “Or was it Ralph’s infamous eggs and sausage?”
The jab seems to go over the Champion’s head. “You’re going on vacation?” he asks.
Well, that catches her off guard. “Huh?”
Ethan lowers his glasses. The gold irises of his eyes shine dully in the sunlight streaming through the window. “You said you were thinking about a trip earlier,” he qualifies. “So... where are you going?”
She chuckles a little, carding her fingers through her hair a bit absently. “I did, didn’t I?” She pauses, considering. “Well....” She stops speaking and moves towards his table, considering whether or not she should tell him about the plans she’d been entertaining since the night of the party.
Then again, what could it hurt?
“I was hoping to go on a trip to Unova.” She drums the fingers of her left hand against the scratched tabletop, only the slightest bit relieved to finally talk about her plans aloud. “I think all of us could really use the time off.”
“Unova? That sounds awesome. I’ve always wanted to go too, maybe challenge their League. What kind of trip?”
“Call me crazy, but I was actually thinking of touring the entire region.”
Ethan shakes his head, the movement vehement. “That’s not crazy at all!”
“Really?” she asks, the question directed more at herself than him. “Is that even doable? Green is sitting on a couple years’ worth of vacation time, but getting him to take a long weekend off from the gym is hard enough as it is. Besides, most regional tours take almost five months, three if you only hit the major cities....”
She worries her bottom lip, thinking of how ludicrous it would be if Green actually agreed to taking a few months off to backpack through Unova, of how unrealistic she is for even considering it.
Ethan’s eyes have lit up, almost like a new possibility has occurred to him. “It’s only a few weeks,” he says slowly, “if you go by car.”
Leaf blinks. A car...?
“You know,” he adds, undeterred by her silence, “like a road trip.”
Finally, she says, “I know what a road trip is, Captain Obvious.” Beaming herself now, she bends across the tabletop to enfold him in a grateful embrace. “You might just have a brain that’s good for something other than battling in there after all.” Before she pulls back, she brushes her lips against his cheek in a quick, thankful kiss.
Ethan’s cheeks match the carpet when she pulls back. “H-hey,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “That’s Champion Obvious to you, waitress.”
She smacks him on the arm for that, though she can’t quite wipe the excited smile off her face. “Careful, Champ, or this waitress will slip a little something unpleasant in your next meal....”
“Oh, sorry!” Ethan shouts obnoxiously. “I forgot you preferred to be called servant!”
Leaf flips him the spearow on her way to the kitchen and her coworkers, who pretend not to listen to her absolutely riveting conversation with the League Champion of both Johto and Kanto. “Go do your job and get the hell out of my diner, Mr. Champion.”
A road trip, huh?
A plan like that—well, it might actually work.
--
Green is in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a late dinner. "—so Machamp fainted, too," he's saying. "I finished the battle off with Arcanine. I haven't had a battle like that in a while." He sounds irritated instead of pleased. "I had to stop by the Pokémon Center afterwards. Didn't even get half the work done I wanted to."
"Machamp shouldn't have fainted," Red says.
Green's knife slams into the chopping board. At the jarring silence, Leaf gets up and peeks into the kitchen. Green has turned to scowl at Red, and Red is staring back impassively, his head tilted to the side.
"Like you would have done anything differently," Green snarls.
Red nods. "Would have used Stone Edge."
The two men exchange glares before Green throws up his hands. "Forget it," he snaps, and pushes past Leaf to storm into the bedroom. Leaf's half-expecting the door to slam behind him, and breathes a sigh of relief when it stays open.
When she follows Green, she finds him prowling back and forth across the cluttered floor. Eevee is sitting upright on the bed, tracking her trainer with concerned eyes as he moves. "You want to go somewhere?" he says. "Fine. Let's go. Anywhere you want, it's fine."
She steps inside, closing the door behind her. "Red has to come, too."
Green whirls. "No.”
"You can't just keep running away from this," Leaf says.
"I'm not running away!"
Leaf looks at the track he's worn into the carpet.
Green follows her gaze before his eyes snap back to hers, glaring. "I'm not running away," he repeats. "I just don't want him in my life. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"
"Because he's already in your life," she says. "You have to make peace with him, Green."
He gestures towards the door. "I'm not the one who just picked that fight!"
"Red was just trying to help. He's trying to be your friend!"
Green barks out a laugh. "You still think we're friends? Maybe you forgot how he—"
"You won't let me forget! You're the one who's stuck on things that happened almost ten years ago—"
Green's sharp intake of breath makes her pause. Eevee jumps from the bed onto his shoulder, and he automatically reaches up to stabilize her. Leaf walks over but doesn't try to touch him. She can hear Eevee purring hard as she rubs against his cheek, but Green's shuttered expression doesn't change.
"You need closure," she tells him gently. "We all do. I just want to fix this, all right? I just want you to be happy."
"I was happy," he mutters.
Leaf steps in front of him and puts her hands on his shoulders. He doesn't resist, but he doesn't lean into her, either. "Come on, Green, let's go on a trip," she tells him. "Just for a few weeks. You know the two of you have a lot to talk about."
"I don't have anything to say to him."
"Maybe you don't," she says, "but you have a lot of things you want to hear."
--
Pikachu comes bolting out of the bedroom the second Green opens the door and heads straight for his trainer. Red kneels down and catches Pikachu as he leaps into his arms.
A moment later, the shouting in the bedroom starts. Red closes his eyes, breathing in the familiar smell of static. "He's getting soft," he murmurs regretfully into Pikachu's ear. Pikachu licks the tip of his nose.
He stands after a while and moves towards the job Green left unfinished, setting Pikachu down on the counter beside the chopping board. He studies the small pile of vegetables that have already been chopped, trying to figure out what needs to be done. The knife feels clumsy in his hand.
When Leaf and Green finally come out of the bedroom, the unevenly cut vegetables are simmering in a pot half-filled with water. The chopping board and knife have been cleaned, and Red is gone.
--
Even at night, Kanto in June is almost unbearably hot, and Red's steps are slow as he climbs the stairs to Green and Leaf's second floor apartment. Pikachu is a little faster, and when Red reaches the landing, he finds his pokémon pawing at the door.
The porch light is on, but he quickly discovers that the door is locked. Red jams his hands back into his pockets, staring at the deadbolt. Pikachu makes a questioning noise, but Red shakes his head. Breaking and entering is a bad idea; Green would most likely press charges. Besides, it's not like they're unused to sleeping outside anyway, and the soft loam of the Viridian Forest floor might even be better than the couch.
When Red turns to leave, Pikachu's ears droop. The pokémon calls softly at the closed door, but the droning whine of nincada song, ever-present once the summer starts, is his only response. Pikachu looks over his shoulder at his trainer, who jerks his head towards the stairs—then pauses.
Pikachu follows Red's gaze to see Eevee's face pressed against the window, her black eyes gleaming in the dim light. Her answering cry is silenced by the glass.
Pikachu leaps up onto Red's shoulder so that he can see her more clearly. Eevee places both paws against the glass, their pads pink and uncalloused, before she drops back to all fours. She points with her nose towards the bottom left corner of the window, and gives another muted cry.
Red kneels down, feeling Pikachu dig his nails into his shoulder to keep his balance. To the left of the window, beside the door, is a large potted plant. He points at it, and Eevee nods, scratching one paw fitfully against the window.
It seems to be an ordinary pot, without any hidden switches or compartments. Pikachu starts to dig up the soil, but Eevee's protest is so loud that it manages to filter faintly through the glass. Finally, Red heaves the pot a few inches off the ground—just high enough for Pikachu to dart underneath it and snag a dull gold key.
Pikachu leaps from Red's shoulder the moment the door opens wide enough for him to fit through, and he joins Eevee on the floor, purring as she nuzzles his cheek. Red slips through the door and closes it with a quiet click, kneeling to pull off his shoes.
Eevee is circling Pikachu now, sniffing at all the new scents he's picked up on their walk through the forest. She sneezes at him and flattens her ears, then begins to lick his face with fastidious care. Pikachu squeaks at the treatment and turns away from her, following Red as he walks across the room towards the couch.
Both pokémon jump up to share his lap once he sits down. He reaches out to run a gentle hand down Eevee's back, feeling muscles underneath a layer of fat. Curious, he tickles her, and nods when she twists away, lightning-quick. She pouts at him, but closes her eyes with pleasure when he scratches under her chin.
Pikachu leans across Red's lap to headbutt her gently. "Pika?" he asks, and she sits up at once, hopping down from the couch and darting away to hide in the apartment's shadows. Pikachu buries his face in Red's shirt, muttering softly. Red counts with him, silently, up to ten.
"Pika!" he calls out, flying off the couch to search for Eevee's hiding place. Red watches his pokémon hunt through the apartment, looking in the spaces between furniture and slithering underneath Green's desk, piled high with papers that nearly obscure his PC from view. He can feel the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
When Pikachu finds her hiding underneath the kitchen sink, she shrieks and bolts away. They chase each other through the apartment, finally tumbling over the back of the couch and into a pile beside Red. Eevee lands on top of Pikachu and sits on him, triumphant, before she freezes.
"Eevee?" Red hears Green say from behind them, his voice raspy with sleep.
Red turns to look at Green, who's standing in the bedroom door. His hair is more rumpled than usual, and his expression is unreadable.
"You locked me out," Red says.
Green reaches up to rest a hand on the doorframe. Eevee rolls off of Pikachu, and the two of them peek over the couch at Green. The other man opens his mouth to say something, closes it, swallows. "Force of habit," he mutters.
Pikachu turns and nuzzles Eevee, and she lets out a little squeak. Green frowns. "Eevee," he calls, his tone calm but authoritative, and her ears twitch in response. She jumps over the couch and trots over to Green, who lifts her in his arms and looks into her eyes.
"I told you," Green mutters softly to her, and flinches a little when she licks his face.
Red and Pikachu are still staring at them over the couch when Green looks up. "What," he says.
"You should train with her more."
Green pulls Eevee in against his chest. "She's already too strong to use at the gym," he snaps.
Red shakes his head. "That's not—"
"Then what is it?"
There's a pause before Red speaks again. "She's fast, but she's not strong. Not anymore."
"Oh, I see. All right, so give me some advice, Champ," Green spits. "Should I starve my pokemon at the top of a mountain, too?"
Pikachu snarls, and Red's eyes narrow in that old, dangerous way of his.
Green's smile shines sharp over the small, squirming body in his arms. "Oh, come on," he says. "Don't tell me I hurt your feelings."
"You should go to sleep," Red says, resting a hand on Pikachu's back.
"Or what?" Green says. "You going to make m—ow!"
Eevee's nip nearly makes Green drop her, and there's a moment of chaos where Green scrambles to keep her in his arms and Eevee fastens her claws in his shirt. When Green looks up again, Red's expression has shifted back to its usual neutral state, and Pikachu has vanished from view.
Green pulls a hand free to rub at his temple. "You know what, I am just too tired to deal with you right now," he mutters. "I'm heading back to bed." He doesn't move to leave, though, and Red stares at him until he shifts his weight, frowning. "Whatever," he finally mutters, and turns away. The door closes behind him with a quiet bump. It seems anticlimactic.
Red looks at Pikachu, who's curled into an annoyed ball in his lap. Then he sighs and throws himself onto his side, his head hitting the pillow and folded-up blanket on the end of the sofa. Pikachu spills onto the cushions with a startled squeak, and mutters for a moment before he curls up again, this time in the hollow of Red's body. It's a familiar position, and it softens the pressure that lingers in the back of Red's throat.
Chapter V