Work Text:
Leaves sway in the gentle summer breeze. The sun is out, its soft rays filtering between the branches and casting dancing shadows across the ground where they walk. It’s a good day, albeit rather plain.
It’s a shame to let the daylight pass him by like this. There are a thousand productive things Silver could be doing right now, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to be able to manage any of them. Instead, he’s being lead through the National Park by none other than Ethan.
God knows how Ethan manages to ruin all of his plans, but he does. Somehow he’s always in just the right spot to get in Silver’s way. It has to be enough to drive anyone crazy. Either fate has a really shitty sense of humor, or Ethan is stalking him. (He's not. If he were, he wouldn’t drown Silver in texts asking what he’s up to).
"C'mon, Silver! We're gonna be late!"
"Your fault," he grumbles, hands shoved in his pockets. "I didn't want to be here. You could've been on time if you left me out of it—for once."
Ethan hums, as if he's thinking about something, ignoring the glare his rival shoots at him. Silver already knows from the sound he makes that Ethan's just doing it for effect; he had already made whatever decision he was making.
"Nnnope! Not happening," laughs Ethan. "Besides—you said you'd hang today! You can't take that back now."
Silver rolls his eyes. He regrets it every time, but he just keeps doing it. Ethan’s stupidity must be rubbing off on him. "Yeah, well, that was before I knew you were going to drag me through the woods for no reason. Where are we going, anyway?"
Ethan turns back to face his rival, gray-blue eyes sparkling with a mischievous kind of excitement.
"You'll see!" He beams, reaching for Silver's hand, and before the other boy can pull away he's being dragged further along the wooded path.
He hardly processes what’s going on. It nearly ends up with him stumbling over his own feet as he’s dragged along. He has half a mind to rip his hand from Ethan’s grasp, to bark out some venomous insult or slam a fist on the top of his head, to knock some sense into him (or get him to slow down). Instead, he just sighs, trying not to trip over his own feet while he's dragged along. "Great", he grits out.
It's not as bothersome as he makes it sound, though, going somewhere with Ethan. He’s annoying, sure, but somehow it’s not as bad as he’s expecting it to be. As it used to be.
Maybe he's just acclimated to the idiocy. That's probably it, Silver thinks to himself. No one with a brain could manage to be upbeat like this all the time. Unfortunately, if his hypothesis is correct, then Ethan has proven that you don't need much of a brain to be a half-decent trainer, either. That, or a soft heart worn on your sleeve takes you further than it ever should.
(Well. It takes Ethan further than it ever should. Lucky asshole.)
What really gets under Silver's skin, though, is the fact that Ethan has a way of making others weak. And apparently that includes him now, too. There are no words to describe it—save for infuriating.
He caves a little faster to Ethan's pleading. He checks his gear a little more to see if he has another stupid text, even if he doesn't respond. He lets himself get dragged off to Gods-know-where in the middle of the day when there's shit to get done.
It's pathetic! He's being pathetic. Whatever Ethan is doing needs to stop already. More importantly, Silver needs to get a grip.
But for some reason that seems to be completely beyond him, Silver can't quite get himself to do so.
Ethan's hand over his own is warm. Silver knows he should let go, but Ethan is still half-pulling him along the park path. There are better things he could be doing right now (like training, come on), but he supposes there also could be a whole lot worse.
That's another thing Ethan does—he makes Silver find new ways to justify wasting his time.
When Ethan's hand tightens around his own, Silver opens his mouth to speak... But he can't find the words he wants to pass his lips. Thankfully, his rival is too busy running to look back at him and catch it. He settles for a scowl instead, eyes glaring at the ground beneath their feet.
Silver hates being weak. He loathes it more than anything in the world. But this is his fault, isn’t it?
"Almost there! Keeping up?"
"You're practically dragging me, Ethan."
Silver's rival chuckles, and it could not be more obvious why one of the region's very gods would deem him worthy. Worthy enough not to get scorched alive, anyway. It’s like walking with the sun in your eyes.
Silver tightens his grip on Ethan's hand. Someone like Ethan shouldn't be wasting his time on someone like him. He's painfully aware that he's ruining a good thing—good in the objective way that the world could use more of (because they're not friends, they're rivals). Silver isn't delusional—he knows he's rotten to the core.
And he's here making things worse. Just like always.
In moments like this, he almost feels as though he’d rather be trampled by a herd of Tauros. Or drowned by a Poliwrath. Or charred by a Magmortar. How can he not? There's no going back. No redos, no fixing the shit he's already broken. What's done is done. And he fucked it all up. There’s always been a common denominator in the trainwreck that is Silver’s life, and that’s him.
If only Ethan would see it—see that he's better kept at arms length (or better yet, a region away). He's a lost cause! It’s not that hard to tell. But of course he doesn't. Of course.
Because Ethan refuses to look at him and see the shit that he’s really responsible for. Because Ethan is better than him. Stronger than anything and kinder than the world deserves. Kinder than he deserves.
Something must really be wrong with him, because Silver is too pathetic to cut the cord himself.
———
When they come up to the central path of the park, Ethan ushers Silver forward. There’s already a sizable crowd gathered in a clearing nearby. The moment he catches a glimpse of it, he wrenches his hand from Ethan’s grasp, shoving it back into his pocket as if he was suffocating every second they were in contact (it almost feels like he was).
There are trainers milling about all over. That weak-looking bug gym leader is in the middle of the group being hounded by a handful of youngsters, bug-catching nets slung over their shoulders.
Ugh. He knows what this is. Silver's eyes snap back to Ethan, who stands there entirely nonplussed.
"A bug catching contest? Really?" Silver groans, running a hand over his face. He must look as dismayed as he feels, because Ethan nearly suffocates from trying not to chuckle. Which is useless, because he bursts out laughing anyway. If looks could kill, Ethan’s obituary would be in this week’s paper.
"It's fun, I promise!" Ethan giggles, and Silver hopes that a Beedrill has the sense to skewer him clean through the chest. "I do this all the time! We'll get some net balls and you can come with me. I'll show you all the good spots!"
Silver has to resist the urge to scream. Maybe one Beedrill isn't good enough. Make it a swarm—maybe that would do it.
"Fine," he mutters, making a point of ignoring how Ethan perks up like a newborn Growlithe when he speaks. He crosses his arms. "But only because you're going to kill yourself out there. It’s a miracle that you haven’t yet. Do you need to have a babysitter with you all the time?"
Like water off a Psyduck's back, Ethan doesn't seem to even process that jab. "Come onnnnn. I’ve done this like a thousand times before! It’s just more fun with friends.” He beams at Silver, looking at him in that searching way he does when he’s expecting to get a retort out of him.
(The fact that Ethan's used to him enough to play off of his insults is a punch in the gut.)
Silver rolls his eyes. "For the last time, we are not friends. We’re going to do this, and then I'm leaving."
"Awww. Why not stick around? We can go to the department store or something. Goldenrod’s right here!”
"Go get the sport balls so we're ready or I'll fuck off right now, Ethan." Silver spits, only half meaning it.
"Fiiiine... But mom made an extra lunch today and I packed it, so you gotta stick around for the contest and that!”
Oh, God damn it.
"Fine, whatever. Just hurry it up!"
Ethan was planning to use that as a bargaining chip, judging by his laugh as he runs off. How many times now has he tried to bribe Silver into living with him? It’s not going to work this time, either, if he brings it up again. He’s doing just fine in the Dragon’s Den, even if Claire is annoying and Lance is probably just trying to get something out of him.
Silver rolls his eyes as his rival dips into the crowd. He figures that he has about two minutes to stomp this worthless self-loathing feeling back into whatever pit it came from before Ethan comes back.
Ethan could do a lot better than him. Ethan should do better than him.
But if he won't just leave Silver behind, then… Then he might as well get used to it. Just for now. Just until he can scrape together the strength to do it himself.
What a mess.