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“Your jacket’s in the car,” Green says, eyes fixed on the tree in front of him. He can sense Red shift beside him, and Green allows himself a soft smile as Red does his little half-jog back to the parking lot. The autumn wind wasn’t anything compared to the freezing hails and rains Red endured on Mt. Silver, but their new life philosophy focused a bit more on not suffering for the sake of it. Today, outside in the orchard, was a day for comfort.
So small material comforts – jackets on a breezy, cloudy afternoon, new shoes when the old started losing their grip, an instant coffee machine with more flavors than either would ever want to try – were welcomed into their world these days. Where holidays used to be filled with the stress of picking just the right gift to fit the occasion, to perfectly embody Red and their relationship, time had mellowed presents into something so much warmer: a soft blanket Red threw over the couch the first day of fall, a set of pumpkin-spice scented lotions Green left on Red’s side of the bathroom counter.
Picking things had never come easily to Green. All the major moments of his life – deciding to become a trainer, choosing his first Pokémon, pivoting to research – were, in many ways, predetermined. His grandfather controlled the start of his journey, and his starter was chosen the second Red laid his hand on Charmander’s Pokéball. It was even up to Red, not Green, how life changed after the league, cutting off contact and leaving Green floundering.
Green, for decades, felt like he was just following one set of instructions after the next. Becoming a gym leader was the logical next step. Finishing school to do Pokémon research was the obvious next path. There was never a second option; it was just one step after the next, as if he was still sticking to Daisy’s notes on the map she gave him the day he left home. Gentle, cursive script. Head north through Viridian and up to Pewter. Fight Brock first; the Viridian Gym is tough, and the leader is never around, so save that for last. Head east to Cerulean after. Make sure to visit the Cerulean Cape!
He could never find a reason to deviate from her advice, so he didn’t. Besides, Red was given a similar map, and that way, he knew Red would never be far behind.
Green hums as Eevee twists through his ankles. She’s got her little sweater on, another gesture of love and comfort.
“These are Fuji apples,” he tells her, as she sniffs one on the ground. Those were his favorite: sweet, but not mushy. Daisy had once mistakenly said they were named after the mountain, but Green had been quick to correct her. They were named after the town of the research center they were made in, Fujisaki.
“A lab, a mountain, and the color red. You guys married yet?” she’d snarked back.
Green reaches out to pick it up, willing his face to not heat too much at the memory. It must have fallen recently; overall unblemished, warm on one side from where Eevee had pawed at it, cold and damp on the other. He gently dries it against his jacket.
Marriage.
Another choice he was now free to make. Another source of warmth in this gentle life.
What was the first time he’d been allowed to decide something so big?
Red takes a detour back. There are Granny Smiths not too far away from where he left Green, and he already knows Green’s going to want to go look at the Honeycrisps or something else sweet. But Red wants a pie, and that means tart apples. It’d only take a moment, and Red knows Green will still be there when he’s done.
It had always been that way, for as long as Red could remember. No matter where Red chose to go, no matter what he planned to do, he could always go back to Green. He would always go back to Green.
Few things in Red’s life felt so constant, so inevitable. The departure of his father when he was young, the constant moving until arriving in Pallet Town, the coming and going of other trainers and challengers on his journey – all of it led to a sense of permanent inconsistency and constant change. It felt like every decision Red made would somehow ripple out and change everything. He learned the hard way that even sitting still, avoiding change, was a decision that would alter the course of life and lead to lasting consequences.
The constant change alone wasn’t always a bad thing, especially as he learned to predict it. Just like the way winter melted into spring and bloomed into summer before resting into fall – change could be manageable, predictable, even beautiful, as he learned how to embrace it.
But there was something special about knowing that someone would always be there for him. Knowing that no matter how far Red roamed, no matter what stupid mistakes he made, he would always have someone to return to. A source of warmth and comfort, whether it be in fingers gently intertwining with his own, soft words whispered against his collarbone, or even a jacket carefully folded and left in the car, smelling more like Green than himself.
It wasn’t that Green didn’t change. He was so different from the man he was even just a year ago. Happier. More settled in his own skin. Confident where he used to be arrogant, patient where he used to be rash.
At least with Red.
Green still chewed out a reporter the other day for “asking a question he’d already answered a thousand times that week,” still paced uncontrollably while waiting for a challenger to reach his podium, still made sure to adjust his hair and slouch just right as the kid made their way up the walk.
Red plucks a Granny Smith off the tree and studies it. It’s smooth against his hands; a little cold, having been outside, but fast to warm in his hands.
Ideal pie filling or not, they were always his favorite apple. Back in Pallet Town, they had one Granny Smith tree in the midst of a cluster of crabapples. At first, Red had thought there was something wrong with them. He’d asked his mom why the apples on the tree wouldn’t ripen, why they’d fall to the ground still green and tart.
“They’re perfectly ripe,” she’d said. “Everything in this world grows differently, and some things have different stopping points than others.”
“Does it get lonely?” Red remembers asking.
“The only Granny Smith in a yard of crabapples? Maybe. If you let it.”
He holds the apple in one hand while stuffing another in his pocket, wondering if his childhood tree felt lonely.
He rushes back to Green.
The first major decision Green made, he realizes, was leaving to find Red.
The day that dark-haired boy, cap flipped back and eyes shining bright, said he found the world’s strongest trainer on Mt. Silver, Green was finally offered his first decision.
Stay in Viridian and let his childhood friend punish himself in the loneliest spot in all of Johto. Or go find him.
Go talk to him.
Tell him the truth.
Green could have chosen to let it be. He could have let it end, right there, and moved on. Maybe Red would have come down on his own. Maybe he wouldn’t have. But Green didn’t have to make the choice he did.
He chose to love Red. That day, and every day after. While the rest of his life swirled around him, he chose to wait for Red. Chose to make another copy of his apartment key. Chose to cook an actual breakfast each morning and move half his clothes out of the closet. Chose to hold on, when for once, nobody would have blamed him for letting go.
Green started each day with a choice, one that grew easier and easier to make.
When Red finds Green again, he wraps his arms around him gently, rests his chin on Green’s shoulder, and pulls him in so his back is flush against Red’s chest. He’s warm and soft, smells like the fall, smells like today, like the apple orchard and the love that Red would choose over anything.
The first Granny Smith Red picked – the perfect one – is still in his hands, and he reaches to open Green’s and place it there.
But Green’s already holding an apple. A red one. Fuji.
“Got distracted on the way back from the car?” Green laughs. “Green apples. Really?”
Red kisses his cheek and swaps Green’s Fuji for Red’s Granny Smith.
“They’re my favorite.”