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solchain · 1 year ago

Note

request: palletshipping, hanahaki?

wc: 7 158 read on ao3 here

Gary is eleven years old the first time he throws up a flower petal, just south of Viridian City. At first, he thinks it is his mind playing tricks on him; maybe he hit his head when that Pokémon in the gym knocked him out. But it happens again the next morning, and he knows with a leaden sort of dread settling deep in his stomach it’s not.

Gingerly, he picks the flower up, considers it with an appropriate level of emotional distance: it’s thin and round, deeply yellow. When he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, it is small enough that it seems to disappear entirely. There’s still a slight tickle in his throat, but a deep breath in and out assures him there’s nothing wrong with his lungs.

Though it somewhat complicates his return home, he also knows he has a better chance of finding information tucked away on a dusty shelf at Oak Laboratory than out on the road. He tells his grandfather his occasional cough is nothing more than a passing cold he must have picked up on the road, a story which only really gains credibility when Ash comes by and the fits become somewhat more frequent. Even if a coincidence, Gary can’t quite help taking his frustrations about it out on Ash for the handful of days they both stay in Pallet Town.

Unfortunately, his search of his grandfather’s shelves leaves him with about as much information as he had to begin with, being basically none. Most of the books are about Pokémon, rather than human, diseases; and apparently, this particular malady hasn’t been observed in Pokémon.

When he leaves Pallet Town again, it gets better. So he redoubles his training and puts flowers out of his mind in order to focus on the League. Only every other night, when he wakes up with a headache and ringing ears, does his cough re-emerge. It seems obvious, then, that it’s related to what happened at the Viridian Gym—and he is not ready to face the implications of that yet. Not until he wins the League. Not until he proves that he is stronger than that armoured Pokémon made him feel.

But it is not meant to be; his fourth round opponent sends out a Golem against his Nidoking and he has been here before, only this time his grandfather and Ash are watching, and when his Pokémon falls he falls with him. A cough wracks his body, but the petal doesn’t dislodge itself from his throat until later, when Ash finds him outside.

“Gary!”

Gary turns around with a wry smile, which he can’t maintain for long. When he coughs, Ash’s frown only deepens.

“Gary?”

He waves a dismissive hand at him, while the other comes up to cover his mouth just in time to catch the flimsy orange petal before it passes between his lips. He wraps his hand around it and drops his fist down to his side before Ash can see anything.

“That trainer was lucky I was distracted by the girls cheering for me,” he says. His confidence is easy and comfortable, and even if Ash doesn’t look entirely convinced, it’s still enough to let him get away. Another day, another time, perhaps he would have stayed behind to see how Ash fared in his battle, but today he wants nothing more than to get away from here.

As they drive away, he crushes the petal between his fingers, then sends the wilting pieces back with the wind, away from him. The sooner he gets away from here, the sooner he’ll get over it. He’s sure of it.

The flower petals don’t completely go away, nor, however, do they grow worse. It quickly becomes something he adjusts to and deals with, because he has to. He doesn’t try to research it any more than he has, if only because he can’t bring himself to ask anyone else about it. Scouring the Internet on a Pokémon Centre computer, he learns it is a rare affliction commonly associated with repressed feelings of some kind. So long as he still wakes up with nightmares of that Pokémon, he supposes it won’t get any better, but those are lessening, too, as time goes on. It must be a matter of patience, then.

After that, he mostly tries to put it out of his mind. It bothers him only once every few days, if that. By the time he returns to Pallet Town again, he has found ways to make his coughing less obvious; sometimes, he can even swallow them down completely, though it results in an aching pain in his chest that he prefers to avoid whenever possible. Around Ash and his grandfather in particular, he leaves room for the ache, knowing it is better than their questions or, worse, their concerns.

He thinks he has it all figured out, until the night before his battle with Ash at the Silver Conference, he chokes up not just a petal, but an entire flower.

It is round and yellow, small, as if not yet fully grown. He is no botanist, has never been particularly interested in plants beyond their usefulness to him and his Pokémon. He holds it up to the light in his room, then far away, trying to glean…something from it, but there is nothing. Umbreon, who was sleeping near his feet before his coughs roused her, stretches up to sniff at it.

“I guess it’s kinda pretty,” he allows. “If you like that kind of thing.”

“Bre?”

“Forget about it. After we’re finished here, it’ll get better. It has to.”

She doesn’t look fully convinced, but dutifully lies back down. Her eyes follow him through the dark as he leans over to put the flower on the table beside his bed, then slips back into bed and turns on his side, so he can’t see it any longer.

In the morning, it has already wilted. He tells himself he pays it no mind as he grabs his things and leaves the room behind to prepare for their battle.

Facing against Ash, it is easy to forget about the things that are weighing down him. He is a passionate and spirited battler, always intent on keeping his competition on their toes; a long time ago, Gary thought Ash would never grow into the rival he was sure as children they would be for each other, but even from across the battlefield, the glint in his eyes is impossible to miss. Gary swallows hard against the flowers in his throat and throws himself into the battle, the way Ash has always wanted him to do.

His loss comes with a sense of serenity. Any doubt still lingering about his next steps flees the moment the referee declares Blastoise unable to battle. He has made it as far as he ever needed, or truly wanted, to. And on the other side is Ash—shocked, until the realization hits him. And then he is smiling so brightly Gary wonders how he ever let himself believe he wanted to take that away from him.

He throws up a second flower shortly after that, much like the first one. He doesn’t know why looking at it for too long makes his eyes begin to sting. He doesn’t know why it makes his chest hurt so badly to drop it on the ground and stamp beneath his foot, as if it were still somehow rooted to his lungs.

After he is sure that it isn’t going to happen again, he asks Ash to meet him by the lake, and returns the top half of their Poké Ball. It takes a heaviness from him, lessens the ache, even if just a bit. He holds Ash’s hand tightly in his and smiles and really means it when he says that, this time, he’ll be there to cheer him on.

There’s nothing between them, then. Ash opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then thinks better of it and clamps it shut. He just smiles instead. When they let go, Gary turns away first. He doesn’t let himself look back.

His next return to Pallet Town is short but necessary as he considers his next steps. Research is a different path, which will lead him other places and introduce him to new people. It will be like starting from square one all over again.

During this time, however, the flowers only grow bigger, and come more frequently. He spends a few days in bed with what he tells his grandfather must be the flu, just trying to breathe through the stabbing pain in his sides. By now, it has been just over two years since this began; and while the venom of his memories has lessened, the flowers only seem to have developed thorns of their own.

They’re worse at night, when everyone else is asleep. This has been true from the beginning, like loneliness is a prerequisite to their growth. A few days into his stay at the lab, it is so awful he thinks perhaps he really does have the flu, and yet no amount of heaving over the toilet produces anything more than specks of velvety yellow and orange. Most of the flowers are not in full bloom; many come apart somewhere in his throat, leaving his choking that much more pronounced.

It's like this that Tracey finds him, knocking hesitantly on the door and then poking his head inside.

“Hey, Gary?” he calls. “You all right in there?”

In answer, he throws up again.

“Okay, stupid question.” Tentative footsteps echo behind him, until Tracey is kneeling down next to him. He seems to debate for a moment whether or not it’s a good idea, but after a pregnant pause puts a hand on Gary’s shoulder and awkwardly begins to rub his back.

Gary doesn’t have the strength to push him away, nor the mental fortitude to try anyway and risk revealing the source of his illness. Unfortunately, it is impossible to remain in this position when coughs tear through him again and he retches. He spits a few broken petals into the toilet and at least leans back in defeat.

“Oh,” says Tracey, very quietly.

Gary attempts to clear his throat, to little success. Apparently clueing in, Tracey gets to his feet and tells him, “Let me grab you some water, all right? Stay there.”

As if Gary could have gone anywhere if he wanted to. He shoots a pitiful glare at the toilet, as if it is to blame for the flowers now swimming in it. When Tracey returns, he takes the water without a fight, just grateful to have something to relieve the scratchiness in his throat.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Tracey says after a moment, “but, um…how long has this been going on?”

Gary directs the glare at him, now; he puts his hands up in surrender.

“I know, sorry. It’s just—it doesn’t seem like your grandpa knows. Does he?”

Minutely, Gary shakes his head.

“Does anyone know?”

“No,” Gary rasps. “And you can’t tell anyone, either. It’s not a big deal, all right?”

Tracey’s gaze is kind, yet somehow also unrelenting. He says, “It is a big deal, Gary. I… It’s a rare disease, but I knew someone who had it. In the Orange Islands, we call it Hanahaki Disease. She, um, passed away from it. If you let it go untreated for too long…”

Gary tries not to focus on the part of that statement he leaves hanging between them. “There’s a treatment?”

Tracey winces. “Well…not exactly. How much do you know about it?”

Gary’s grip tightens on the glass. He tells himself it is only that tension making his hand tremble so much. “It’s psychological,” he finally manages. “It’s because of—feelings. If you don’t deal with that…”

A beat passes, and then Tracey kneels down in front of him again. Gingerly, he eases the glass free from Gary’s grasp, then sets it down on the floor between them.

“Sort of,” he says. “But you’re smarter than that, Gary. Pretty sure you can tell it’s not just in your head. It’s also here.” He gestures to his own chest, and then down to his midsection. “And here.”

As Gary watches, unbidden, he thinks of the flower he crushes under his foot, during the Silver Conference. He does not know why, despite the pain of leaning over the toilet for who-knows-how-long before Tracey came around, this is what makes tears spring into his eyes now.

“Then—what’s the treatment?”

“I guess you could say it’s honesty. But I think the first person you have to be honest to is yourself, right?” He hesitates a moment, and then says, “The feeling. What is it?”

Under the weight of his kind stare, Gary falters. Suddenly, his certain diminishes; if it were truly to do with the nightmares and the memories and the fear he’s carried since the Viridian Gym, he would not be here now. Would he?

That’s when it started. So what else happened that day?

He closes his eyes, thinking back. Ash was there. He picked him up off the floor. He looked him in the eyes, open and earnest. The memory of his hands around Gary is more poignant than that of the explosion that knocked him off his feet in the first place.

It got worse recently. He clenches his hands into fists, remembering how it had felt holding Ash’s. Passing him the other half of that Poké Ball. The bright light in his eyes. The ambitious joy in his smile.

He swallows down a sudden lump in his throat and opens his eyes again.

“I don’t know,” he lies.

“Gary…”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Gary says again, voice tight from the flower lodged somewhere within it. He thinks to try swallowing it down again, but there is no point, when Tracey already knows the truth anyway. He coughs a few times, until he is able to spit up the yellow abomination. He holds it out in his shaking hand, vision blurring somewhat.

“It’s pretty,” Tracey offers after a moment. “I don’t know if it’s true, but…I’ve heard that the flowers that grow inside the person afflicted with the disease represent the person they love. So I guess it must be someone fairly bright, right? Someone who…makes you happy?”

Gary snorts out a laugh. “Is this supposed to make me happy?”

Tracey puts a hand over the flower, which draws Gary’s eyes away from it and up to his face.

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt,” he says seriously. “The only way to make it stop hurting is by being honest about it.”

Gary just shakes his head. He can’t tell Tracey. He can barely bear to examine this realization himself.

Tracey sighs, but gives his hand a small squeeze and then reaches down and passes the water back to him anyway. “Well, at least make sure you take care of yourself. And if you ever need anything…”

There’s something terribly ironic about Ash’s friend offering him a helping hand, as if this whole thing isn’t clearly Ash’s fault in the first place. Tracey is nice enough, though, and Gary doubts he would try to involve Ash unless Gary actually asked him to. Still…it’s not worth the headache, when Gary knows he figured it out too late and now he’s missed his chance. If he said anything to Ash now…

Love isn’t supposed to hurt. Yeah, of course it’s not.

And Gary isn’t interesting in hurting Ash now, just to give himself some relief.

He drinks the rest of the water. Tracey waits for him.

Finally, he passes the glass back and says, “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Tracey accepts it with a smile. “Sounds good. Why don’t you go get some sleep? I’m sure I’ll see you in the morning.” He pauses, but only briefly. “Why don’t you leave that here with the other ones? I’ll clean them up.”

Gary stares at him for a moment, and then slowly unfurls his hand from around the flower. He lets it fall into Tracey’s outstretched hand, then hurries up to his feet and heads back for his room. Pure physical exhaustion is the only thing that ensures he falls asleep once he is in bed; it does not stop him from tossing and turning, his dreams an all-consuming shadow around his best friend’s smile, his hands, his burning, passionate eyes.

He tries to leave before Ash can catch up to him, but Ash finds him anyway. He always does. And he sends him off with the half of the Poké Ball and a heaviness in his lungs, like it is no big deal.

Mostly, his first year and a half as a researcher are spent trying to cope with the flowers growing in his lungs. A part of him is convinced he can just live with it, that even if his life is in any sort of danger, that danger hangs suspended far in the future. There must be something he can do in between then, if he just…gets stronger, learns more, tries harder.

On Sayda Island, he mostly is able to ignore it. It comes and it goes, he finds, and when he is occupied with something else, it tends not to be so bad, at least until that thing becomes stressful and overwhelming, like the rampaging Aerodactyl.

Which is a perfect time for Tracey and his grandfather to come for a visit, too.

Tracey is cautious about broaching the subject, but it becomes unavoidable when, shortly before he and Samuel are about to leave, Gary bends over, heaving, and chokes out a few crumpled petals, and then finally a large, round flower.

Dora and Crystal and thankfully preoccupied with Aerodactyl and don’t notice anything. But Gary’s grandfather sees it, and if Gary thought it was bad enough that Tracey knew, well…now he kind of wishes he could sink into the ground and be done with it.

“Gary, what…?”

“It’s not that bad,” he hurries to reassure. “It’s been happening a lot less than before.” He pointedly doesn’t mention that the flower in front of his feet now is the biggest one he’s seen yet. Even Tracey would have no way of figuring that out.

“This is…” Samuel blinks. Shakes his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gary looks away. He hates when his grandfather gets that look, like he has somehow done something wrong or bad for Gary, like this is his fault rather than Gary’s.

“Gary’s been monitoring his symptoms,” Tracey jumps in quickly. “Right now, they’re not so bad, right, Gary?”

“Oh, uh…” He clears his throat and turns back to face them both. “That’s right. I just…I’m not in a position to do anything about it, that’s all.”

Samuel’s lips thin. “I don’t know much about this particular malady, but I understand the solution is fairly straightforward.” Suddenly, his eyes flash, and dread flows from Gary’s head down to his feet. Leave it to his grandfather to have him all figured out in ten seconds flat.

“You can’t tell him,” he says, and feels like he’s begging but can’t quite help it. “I’m not coming back. Look—Dora and I were talking, and she has some friends working with Professor Rowan in the Sinnoh region. I spoke to him. After I’m finished here, he’s going to give me a position in his lab. I can’t go back now.”

“Really?” Tracey beams. “That’s awesome, Gary!”

“Now, Tracey, wait just a moment…” Samuel is frowning. Deeply. “Gary, I understand you don’t want to leave things in the air for so long, but surely…”

“I don’t even know where he is,” Gary points out. “We’ll see each other again someday, but for now, I’m doing my own thing, and he’s doing his. Isn’t that enough, Gramps?”

“Well…”

“It’s not usually this bad,” he tries again. “It’s just ‘cause everything was so—hectic. I’m keeping an eye on things. You believe me, don’t you?”

Finally, his grandfather’s composure crumbles. He heaves a short sigh, then offers a watery smile.

“I believe you,” he promises. “But I hope Tracey’s right about you monitoring your symptoms. If they ever worsen…”

“I know, I know.”

Samuel gives him a long, searching look, and then nods. “Very well. Then, I’m happy for you, Gary, truly. The Sinnoh region will have plenty of excellent opportunities just waiting for you. Don’t forget to call every now and then!”

Relief lessens the tension in Gary’s jaw enough so that he is able to must up a genuine smile. “I won’t. Thanks for visit, Gramps, Tracey. See ya soon. Have a safe trip back.”

They both bid him farewell, then turn begin making their way toward the boat. Only when Gary is just about to turn away himself does he hear Tracey yelp, “Ash?!”

He shakes his head, sighing. Leave it to his grandfather to spill his secrets for him. All he can do is hope Tracey will keep him from telling anyone even more implicated than Tracey is.

True to his word, Gary does make an effort to call often, and dutifully reports with at least a degree of honesty on his current symptoms. They remain about the same, though his stress levels rise somewhat significantly under Professor Rowan’s tutelage. He is a severe man, with big expectations; Gary intends to surpass them all, but this grows increasingly difficult when he is throwing up flowers every other day.

It is manageable, though. Gary returns to Pallet Town for a short while after he hears Ash has completely the Battle Frontier challenge. He isn’t sure what he expects to say to him, if anything at all; but after not seeing him in so long, he can’t bring himself to think about the disease or the crushed up flowers or anything, really, other than how nice it will be to see him again after all this time.

And it is nice. In the time they’ve spent apart, Ash has grown—physically, of course, but it’s more than that. There’s a new confidence in him, unlike the arrogant self-certainty he has after he toured the Orange Islands. This is more peaceful. Assurance, security—nothing more or less than belief in himself and his Pokémon.

It is the first time Gary’s seen him in person since he left, shortly after realizing the truth of his feelings. Aside from a postcard he sent when Ash was competing in the Ever Grande Conference, they haven’t exactly shared words with each other in just as long. But Gary watched his battles on TV; Gary asked his grandfather about his travels and his Pokémon and his friends; Gary thought about this moment, and what he would say when it came, so often it sometimes kept him awake at night at least as often as the flowers have.

But he doesn’t say anything. He just accepts Ash’s request to battle, and hopes that says enough for Ash to know he isn’t giving up on his dream, and neither should he. Neither Tracey nor his grandfather try to hold him back when he says he is leaving, but, then again, neither does Ash.

It’s just as well, too, because Gary coughs up some more flowers not too far from the lab. Orange and yellow petals drift down around his feet. He takes care to step around them when he finally moves on.

After he returns to Professor Rowan’s lab, his condition worsens.

He is not so stupid as to think Ash won’t be motivated to follow him to Sinnoh after their battle. At the same time, he knows it is still too soon for their paths to converge. When he is in the middle of a briefing with the professor and begins vomiting blood and vomit over the side of his chair, he is too overwhelmed by the pain of it to notice that his mentor has come around and kneeled down in front of him until he murmurs, “Zinnias.”

Gary coughs once, twice, then looks up at him, dazed. “What?”

“These flowers are called zinnias. But I suppose you must know that already.”

Slowly, Gary shakes his head. “I don’t know anything about flowers, other than that these ones’ve been a real pain.”

Rowan’s moustache twitches. “Yes, I would imagine they have been. I must admit I’ve never seen this phenomenon before in person, but it doesn’t appear to be new to you. What do you know about it?”

And it’s strange, in a way, how relaxing it is. It is as if they are discussing a theory of Pokémon evolution—he grills Gary for the facts, then acknowledges the gaps in his understanding and sends him off somewhere to fill them in for himself.

“It’s caused by unacknowledged feelings,” he says. “Untreated, it can kill a person.”

Rowan raises an eyebrow at that. “And yet you’re sitting here now.”

“It’s not that bad yet,” Gary mutters, though the excuse doesn’t feel right when the words are coated in a thin film of iron.

Rowan says nothing to that. Instead, he asks, “And what is the treatment?”

“Honesty. To the target of the feelings.”

“And what of the afflicted?”

“Well, I’m being honest now, if that’s what you mean.”

“In a sense, I suppose.” He strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Then, if there were somewhere you could go or something you could do to ease the symptoms, it would be…?”

Gary closes his eyes and really thinks about this. He imagines that, by now, Ash is halfway across the ocean on his way here, but if their battle showed Gary anything, it’s that he’s still finding his path. And Gary isn’t so different, isn’t he?

He opens his eyes again. Says, “There isn’t anything. It’s just psychological management.”

But Rowan shakes his head. “No problem,” he says in that low, rumbling voice of his, “has only one potential solution. Perhaps you ought to think it over before your next assignment, and then we can re-evaluate.”

Gary chews on this for a moment. He doesn’t mistake any of it for a question, or even a helpful suggestion. This is simply how the professor operates.

At last, he nods. “All right. I’ll think it over. But I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Rowan looks down at the flowers around Gary’s feet. His eyes are decidedly dark.

“Come back if it worsens,” he says. “There are things that can be done if the cure is truly out of reach.”

In the moment, Gary doesn’t ask about it, but when his lungs start to feel heavy every waking moment of every day, after his next run-in with Ash during his assignment with the Shieldon, he begins to consider what exactly Professor Rowan meant.

The answer disturbs him more than he would like to admit:

“There are surgical procedures,” he explains gruffly. “In essence, they will remove the source of the growth from your organs. But it’s highly invasive, and not often done. The mortality rate is too high for most to justify it.”

“But some people survive it?”

“Certainly. Those who do go on to be quite lonely, however.”

“What do you mean?”

“Simply, they lose the ability to love. Much as the heart reacts to the repression of love by growing flowers, it similarly reacts to the unnatural removal of them by altering its function. In a way, it’s not so different from some phenomena observed in Pokémon evolution.”

Gary’s skin feels very cold, suddenly. He rubs absently at his arms. “And that’s the only alternative to the cure?”

“There are plenty of supposed natural remedies, though no scientific evidence to back them up. Some have attempted seances with ghost and psychic Pokémon, while others have supposedly attempted communicating with Legendaries in hopes of establishing a cure. Here in Sinnoh, Mesprit is a rather popular choice for such woes, so far as I understand it.”

Gary imagines himself begging to a Lake Guardian to rid him of his disease, then promptly dismisses the thought with a short, despairing laugh.

“I think I’d rather try my luck with the surgery,” he mutters.

Professor Rowan is silent for a moment, and then he clears his throat. “Forgive me for saying so, but I do wonder if there’s more to your decision to not simply confront the object of your affections than you believe there is. I will not presume to understand your situation, Gary. But I doubt whatever ramification you’re fearing is enough to risk your life over.”

When Gary says nothing, he just sighs. “In any case, there have been some reports about habitat disruptions in the caves of Mt. Cornet I was hoping you might be able to look into…”

That is the end of the conversation, but it stays with Gary for a long time, especially as his body begins fighting against him more and more. When he sees the Lake Guardians at Lake Valor, helpless to save them, he doesn’t think about the flowers. He doesn’t think about whether or not they could help. He sees Ash at the end of it all, one of the heroes standing in the way of Team Galactic, and all he can do is promise to return the Adamant and Lustrous Orbs back to Celestic Town.

Then, finally, he thinks of what Professor Rowan said.

Then, finally, he thinks he understands it.

(They stop no fewer than five times on the way to Celestic Town so Gary can throw up. The taste of blood has begun to mingle with something salty, but Professor Rowan tactfully says nothing of it when he has to wipe his eyes clean as well as his mouth.)

For a long while, Gary has time to simply think about it, if only because his condition gets so bad he is confined to bedrest for the unforeseeable future. He eventually relents to Professor Rowan’s insistences and calls his grandfather and Tracey, whose faces are sorrowful but advice is exactly what he expects it to be: Just talk to him, Gary.

His grandfather informs him that Ash will soon being competing in the Sinnoh League. He already was in contact, asking to have some of his old Pokémon transferred to him. And this time, Gary knows—he has no choice, but he can wait a few more days. He can.

The flowers he throws up now are dry, brittle things, past their lifespan. The blood that coats them when he coughs them out changes their colour into something dull and grey, not at all bright or happy, like Ash is. It feels worse, somehow; as if he has waited so long out of some noble sense of self-sacrifice and all he’s done is kill them both.

He musters up the strength to call Ash shortly before his battle against that trainer with the Darkrai that the announcers are raving about on TV. He has to leave a message with Nurse Joy, but he tells himself he didn’t expect anything different. And then he just has to hope that Ash receives it, and will come.

Though it is difficult to get up and walk around, Gary does manage it once in a while, certain that exercise will probably help him more than hinder him even if it makes his breathing short and fast and painful. Lake Verity is not too terribly far, and he finds that the way the breeze rolls off the water is refreshing; it helps him breathe.

It’s a better day than he’s had in a while that he comes out to the lake to wait for him. He watched the match on TV the other day, and still finds himself amazed at the way Ash smiled at the end of it, like he hadn’t been so unfairly outmatched, like he was just happy to have gotten the experience of battling such a strong Pokémon, rather than lost in the semifinals of his fourth Pokémon League. After all this time, so many years—and failures—he is still smiling just like he was that day at the Silver Conference. The day Gary walked away from him, not knowing what it would cost.

He doesn’t hear the sound of footsteps behind him, because he is bent over coughing when Ash arrives. The bloodied petals fall into his cupped hands. When he glances back to see Ash, they both stop, eyes wide.

Gary curls his hands into a fist, obscuring the petals from view, while Ash takes in two deep, stuttering breaths, then quickens his pace to get to Gary.

“Gary!” He stands above him, and he’s sort of…hovering. Like he doesn’t know what to do. “It’s—it’s been a while, huh? Are you…?”

In spite of it all, Gary cracks a smile at that. He scoots over a bit, and uses his free hand to pat the grass beside him.

“I’m all right,” he says. “Saw your battles.”

Lowering himself down with a wary sideways glance, Ash asks, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Pretty good. I was impressed.”

Immediately, he relaxes. Smiles. “Well, thanks! I’m glad you think so. We trained real hard. It wasn’t easy!”

“Easy’s not in your vocabulary, Ashy.” Gary laughs a bit, then stops, straightening up, as the act of it sends pain lacing up his side.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It’s…it’s nothing.” He looks away, toward the water. “So, what’s next, then?”

Ash is quiet for a long moment. In the silence, Pikachu jumps down from his shoulder and inches closer to Gary. He doesn’t have the heart to push him away.

Finally, Ash sighs. “I don’t know yet. Guess I should be askin’ you that. I never woulda travelled here if not for you.”

Gary smiles, faintly. His eyes trace out the reflections of the sun against the lake’s tranquil surface. “I know,” he says. “Pretty cool that ya got to battle against Paul’s Electivire, too.”

Pikachu’s nose brushes against Gary’s fisted hand. Not expecting it, his fingers twitch as he pulls his hand away. The petals slips between them, settling down on the grass. Pikachu cautiously steps closer and sniffs at them, then sits back and looks at Gary with wide, sad eyes.

“Pika…”

“Something’s funny,” Ash declares. “Even Pikachu’s worried about you. Gary, what’s going on? You don’t look so good. Have you been eating? Sleeping?”

Gary pats Pikachu’s head. “You’re too nosy for your own good,” he mutters. “Just like your trainer, y’know that?”

“Pi?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighs. “Ash, look, I… It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? That’s all.”

“That’s not all.” Suddenly, Ash’s hands are wrapping around his wrists, pulling them toward him so face Gary’s whole body has no choice but to follow. His eyes find Ash’s and blink dumbly at him as he says, furiously, “You’re hiding something, just like you were before! What were you holding, anyway, and why are you— Why are you looking at me like that?!”

Gary opens his mouth to respond, but the words are lost as he begins to cough. And cough. And cough.

“Gary?”

He heaves until at least, the familiar sensation of flower petals tickles at the roof of his mouth. When it passes between his lips, it is whole, not wilted. A yellow zinnia, perfectly rounded, not a petal out of place.

Ash drops one of his hands to pick it up. The only indication of a problem is the streaks of blood, but he is apparently unfazed by that. His eyebrows are furrowed when he looks back up at Gary.

“Really…bad timing,” Gary manages between puffs of overexerted breaths. “It’s—”

“Hanahaki,” Ash says. “Tracey told us about it, once, a long time ago. I didn’t think I believed him.”

Gary stares at him for a moment. Ash looks back down at the flower.

“But I guess it must be real, then. Gary, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Gary recoils. Ash’s head snaps back up, eyes widening. It is only their joined hands and Gary’s frail condition that prevents him from pulling away completely.

“Let me help you,” Ash says quickly. “I��I don’t know much about it, but I get the idea. Who is it? If you need to track ‘em down, then I can help! Or—or if you don’t know how to talk to them, then I—”

He cuts off when Pikachu comes around and jumps on his lap again. If he had the wherewithal to do so, Gary would have laughed at the look the little mouse levels his trainer with.

“What?” Ash bristles. “You think you know, Pikachu? You’re kidding me.”

“Pi-pi-chu!” Pikachu points at Gary, then at the flower. And then finally at Ash. “Pikapi!”

Gary has no idea what he’s saying, but clearly Ash does. He stares at Pikachu, dumbfounded, and then looks up at Gary again. He makes a clear effort to void his face of emotion.

“You can tell me,” he says, quietly. “I won’t judge you.”

“I…” Even still, even knowing the words—it’s so hard to just be honest. Gary’s not like Ash, not even close, and they both knows it.

But Ash feels it when his hand begins to tremble. He holds on tighter and leans a little closer and says, “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve definitely done scarier things than this before. Professor Oak was tellin’ me one time—something about an Aerodactyl?”

Gary lets out a huff of air, a sad imitation of a laugh. “Of course he never saves the best stories for me to tell, does he?”

Ash smiles a bit. “He’s just proud of ya, that’s all. But still—that’s way scarier than just tellin’ someone how you feel, right?”

It’s not. It’s really, really not.

“You asked me to come here because of this, right?”

Wordlessly, Gary nods.

“It reminds me of the day you gave me back that Poké Ball,” Ash says. “And I think maybe—you were kinda nervous then, too. But the Poké Ball helped me understand your feelings, so maybe…this flower…”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Gary rasps. “Except that—except that it’s colourful. Bright. Like the person it represents.”

“Someone bright and colourful. All right. Anything else?”

He swallows back an acidic taste. Clutches Ash’s hand more tightly.

“That person was the first bright thing I saw after the worst moments of my life, so—so I guess you could say they flowers are like that because this person…makes me happy.” He makes a face at that, pointedly not looking at Ash as he says it. “I don’t know what they really mean. I just know that—in all the time we spent apart, I don’t think I even really wanted to get rid of them, because they reminded me of you.”

All at once, the pain in his sides changes into something—different. More of an ache than a sharpness. A scar rather than a wound. His free hand comes up to touch around his throat, gingerly, just waiting for something to happen, but—nothing does.

He breathes in, deeply, and out, and looks at Ash.

And it’s the same look he normally reserves for battles. He saw it on the TV, watching the Lily of the Valley Conference just days ago. It saw it in Pallet Town, outside his grandfather’s lab. He saw it at the Silver Conference.

But there’s no battle here. It’s just them, and Pikachu, who’s looking…rather smug, so far as Gary can tell. And then he doesn’t have any more time to think about it, because Ash is pulling him forward into a bone-crushing hug. Pikachu yelps, ducking away just in time to avoid be squished, but Gary is not so lucky.

Then again, as he lets himself melt into it and his eyes begin to well with tears, he’s pretty sure there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

“You shoulda said something,” Ash mutters. “Y’know, I coulda been here way sooner than this. I wish I had been.”

Gary takes a moment to respond, only once he is sure his voice is going to cooperate. And then he says, “I didn’t want to hold you back.”

Ash pulls away, just enough so that he can look at Gary’s face. He frowns.

“You never held me back. All you ever did was push me forward.”

“This is different, though.”

“Nah, it’s not. Wherever either of us ends up, I know you’re gonna be in my corner. For a while…for a while, I wasn’t sure. But I’m sure now, and I’ll always do the same for you. C’mon, Gary. You’re my best friend. What ever made you think I couldn’t love you back?”

Gary’s breath hitches. With some effort, he manages to pull away from Ash, who just grins at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Gary sees Ash scoop up the flower, and then get up to his feet.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“It’s a little easier to breathe,” Gary admits. “But I think—it’ll take some time. It’s been like this for…a while.”

“A while,” Ash echoes. “Months?”

Gary cringes away from him. He casts his gaze desperately back out toward the lake. “Well…a little longer than that, yeah.”

“A little…” Ash steps closer and leans down in front of him, so he has no choice but to meet his eyes even if only briefly. “How long, Gary? C’mon, just tell me! Isn’t the hard part over?”

“I’m not telling you that. Shut up.”

“Please?”

“No. You’re so annoying. Let’s just go back to the professor’s lab.”

Ash pouts, clearly wanting to push the topic, but then his sympathy for Gary’s situation clearly wins out and he sighs, extending a hand down to him. “Okay, fine. Let’s go. Sure you can walk?”

Gary takes his hand, even as he glares up at him. “I’m sure.”

Even once they are both on their feet, Ash doesn’t let go of his hand. Gary doesn’t ask him to, although his face feels rather hot at the continued contact. It’s only once they start walking that he finally relaxes enough to realize, “I never said the word love.”

Ash blinks. “What?”

“You said you love me back. But I never said I love you.” Gary glances at him, then quickly averts his gaze again. He clears his throat, awkwardly. “So how’d you know?”

“You…didn’t? Huh… I dunno. I guess I just kinda always knew. I never really had to think about it.”

Gary doesn’t know what he was expecting, honestly. He just sighs and wraps his hand around Ash’s a little more tightly. In his peripherals, he sees Ash’s smile widen in response. Neither of them says anything. Eventually, there will be more Gary has to be honest about, but for now…he supposes Ash is right.

There’s no need to speak what both of them already know.

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solchain · 1 year ago

Text

So basically Ash is that boyfriend who will distract you when you’re trying to work. This leads to Gary giving up working since power surges and basically Kukui and Burnet get to see videos of little Ash and cry of cute.

Ash doesn’t know if he should thank Gary for what he did or not...

—-

Staying in Alola was everything that Ash loved. There were sunny skies, warm beaches, and so many unique pokemon. There was so much to love about the island…except when there were times to not love it. Of all the pluses that were in Alola, there were minuses as well. While the weather was normally sunny skies and warm beaches, ocassionally, Alola had bad storms.

The bad weather meant that Ash had to remain indoors, which was already proving to be difficult to the raven haired boy. Grabbing one of the pokemon’s chew toys, Ash started tossing the ball up and down. “I’m bored,” he announced.

The brunette boy sitting on the bed beside him tore his eyes away from the screen. “You could read, or watch tv or something.”

Ash frowns, tossing the ball up to the air and catching it. “Let’s do something.”

“I’m working Ash. I’ve got a paper to finish.”

“What on?”

“Regional differences in prehistoric pokemon. Studies are starting to suggest that there were Alolan variants of omanyte and kabuto. Just minor differences in colors and some even in texture. Why don’t you read or watch tv or something and I’ll join you when I finish.”

Ash tossed the ball up again, catching it in one hand. “Nothing’s on tv except for Alolan soap operas.”

“What about movies? Doesn’t Kukui have some to watch?”

Ash grimaces. “Romance movies.”

Gary presses his glasses back onto his face and goes back to work, clicking away at his computer. Across the room, Umbreon is curled on a blanket with Pikachu not too far away. He doesn’t look up from his computer this time and continues to type, ignoring the raven haired. Everyone in the house was doing something productive, it seemed.

Ash lay with his head upside down, hanging off the bed. Staring at the ceiling, he directed his gaze at a poster pinned to the wall of the loft. “Do you think stars have feelings?” He asked Gary, the brunette doing his best to ignore his boyfriend. “Or clouds? What about other worlds out there?” Gary winces. He tries once more to type at his document. “Did you know there are mirror-verses? I met a mirror me once.”

That word takes his eyes from the screen. There’s a flicker of power and he curses to himself. Hastily, Gary presses save on the computer before shutting it. There’s another flicker of power which makes him decide to keep the laptop closed.

“Alternate universe? What was he like?”

Ash hums, sitting up. “Crybaby. He was scared a lot. Mirror Clemont was obsessed with magic, and mirror Bonnie sounded like she had a Galarian accent. Mirror Serena was mean.”

“A crybaby Ash?” Gary chuckles to himself. “Was he as crybaby as you were when we were little?”

“Mmhm. Worse, probably. And I wasn’t a crybaby!”

Gary laughs a bit at that. “Trey just said that to get on your nerves. You weren’t, really. Just whiny.”

“Mirror Serena liked battling. I wonder why Mirror Ash was such a crybaby?”

Gary shrugged. “Maybe Mirror Gary wasn’t there to make it better.”

“Maybe Mirror Gary never matured,” Ash replies.

“Maybe Mirror Ash still has his dad.”

Ash goes quiet. His voice softens. “I can’t imagine Mom leaving and Dad staying.”

“Your dad would’ve enrolled you in Viridian Prep. The very same one your cousins went to. Gramps said my dad had wanted me to go there. But Gramps couldn’t justify spending that much on a school, especially if I was going to be a trainer. He’d rather invest it in upper education.”

“Dad would’ve probably made me a pokemon performer.”

Gary snorts. “Little Mister Ashton. Oh, oh, Arceus.” He scrambles up from the bed. He digs through his bag and smirks a bit, holding an old tape in his hand. “Gramps had a few VHS tapes he wanted to send over with me. Some are for my uncle, some family reunion or something. But I found an interesting one.” Gary smirks. “Your aunt was obsessed with trying to make you famous.”

Ash groans. He already knows what is on the tape. His aunt enrolled him in all types of pageants for little boys, and even tried to get him into a few commercials. He came in runner up in most of the pageants, and the commercials never even aired, thank mew. She would pass off each of her ideas as games, which would excite the little boy.

“You should show Kukui,” Gary teases. “And Burnet. I’m sure she’d love to.”

“I don’t think they own a VHS thingy.” Ash holds his breath in hopes that he’s right.

“Boys?” A call from down below catches their attention. “Please come down for dinner.”

The downstairs feels chilly, and it’s noticeable as both professors are wearing hoodies. Burnet is placing a bowl on the table, spoons placed beside. Kukui takes a seat beside his wife and grins at the food. “Mm, Alolan chili. Looks delicious. How’s your paper coming, Gary?”

“Good, until this wurmple decided to distract me.” Gary points a thumb at Ash.

Kukui chuckles. “He is impatient, isn’t he?”

“Very.” Gary nods. “But then the power surged so I had to stop.”

“Mmhm.” Burnet nods, listening to the rain pitter on the roof. “Alolan storms can be quite something. But it is a nice night to watch a movie.”

“Do you guys have a VHS player?” Ash can feel the smirk of his boyfriend. “I promised Gramps I’d bring Uncle Samson some old family videos he wanted to see. Apparently genealogy is a common interest in old people.”

Ash snorts, going to cover his mouth. He knows the other isn’t wrong, after all, his own grandmother had brought up the interest occasionally.

“We do! Er, I do,” Kukui corrects. “In my lab. It’s helpful for when I need to study battle moves from older matches. We could go down there and watch.”

“We don’t have to,” Ash says quickly.

Burnet places a hand over her mouth in a smile. “Why? Are you hiding something Ash?”

“Ashy doesn’t want you to see the home video that got mixed in by accident.”

Burnet’s eyes crinkle as she smiles. Kukui lets out his own smile. “I’m sure they’re not that bad Ash. Come on,” Kukui teases. “When do we ever get to see our champion in his pre-trainer status?”

“I would like to see a little Ash in action. Delia’s only ever sent us pictures.”

Ash groans, shooting looks to Gary. He makes a mental note to tell his mom, knowing that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with that complaint.

“They’re going to be in Kantonese,” Ash reminds the professors.

“That’s okay. I’m sure you’re still cute.” The groans are louder this time.

“Come on Kiddo.” Kukui laughs. “It’ll be alright. We won’t tell any of your secrets.”

Ash is sitting under a large blanket, ready to hide his face as soon as Kukui presses play on the remote. He sees smiles out the corner of his eye, pressing Pikachu to his chest. Pikachu nudges out the blanket and stares at the television. Words flash on the screen: Ashton Satoshi Ketchum followed by his date of birth.

“Is this an audition tape?” Kukui muses.

Burnet smiles. “I had no idea you were a little actor, Ash.”

“I’m not,” Ash replies quickly.

Words are said rapidly in Kantonese as the first clip is of a stereotypical children’s pageant. There aren’t many boys participating. Aside from a few others, most of the contestants were little girls. There’s silent giggles from Burnet. The little boy on screen is adorable, but the longer the video plays, the clearer it becomes that the little boy on screen isn’t very interested in what he’s being told to do.

The talent portion has both professors giggling. Gary, who has clearly seen this before just crosses his arms and smirks. He presses his lips together. The music on screen is short, catchy, children’s music. The little boy on the stage is doing a simplistic dance in a Pikachu costume.

The yellow mouse tilts his head to the side. “Pika?” He looks at Ash. “Pika!” His cry is cheerful and Ash reaches to rub his head. “Yeah, that’s me Buddy. “

There are a few more videos on screen, one ending with a loud cheer. Kukui’s eyes widen. “Is that…is that the Kanto Champion, Red?”

“He’s my cousin.”

“Oh Gary, look there’s you!” Burnet coos.

Gary blushes a little bit, thankful when the screen starts to warp into some failed commercials. “Ash’s aunt was obsessed with trying to make him famous.”

“That was adorable!” Burnet cries out. She places her hands to her lap. “Gary that was a nice treat. Ash, it wasn’t that bad.” She gives him a soft smile. “You were very adorable, sweetheart.”

“Pika Pika!” Pikachu chirps. Seeing a little Ash was exciting, after all.

“I hated it. Aunt Hillary was into the idea of me being a little pageant prince, or child actor. Everything I’m not. My grandmother finally made her stop. So did my mom.”

There’s chuckles and smiles. Gary bends over to kiss Ash on the lips. “If Trace saw it, who knows where the video would have ended up? Misty’s sisters would’ve probably gotten a hold of it. You know how they gossip. Besides,” Gary says, pressing another kiss on the boy’s lips. “You’re adorable.”

Ash scowls at the compliment, but goes into the kiss anyway.

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