1. Made the first move:
2. The big spoon:
3. The little spoon:
4. The cuddler:
5. Cries during movies:
6. More affectionate:
7. Their favorite non-sexual activity:
8. More nervous to meet the parents:
9. More protective/jealous:
10. Sneaks into the shower with the other in the mornings:
11. Behind the wheel more often during road trips:
12. Gives the silent treatment when they’re mad at each other:
13. Reaches for the other’s hand first:
14. Whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear at inappropriate times:
15. Comes up with cheesy pick-up lines:
Why in God’s name he decided to travel about in the snow with such light bundling was beyond him. Foolish; it was all foolish. He felt his bones rattle within him, his skin bitten red and he was shaking violently, his teeth chattering. Idiot, was all he could think; God, he was such an idiot. The cold that Johto ushered in was nothing compared to the bitter winds that blew and chilled him to his core, to the stagnant air with the smell of emptiness. He was alone. He was among the mountains and the cold breeze and the whipping snow and the fog and he was alone. Only him. Only Wyvie and him, fighting against the current and marching their way with only Silver’s unprotected jeans and mere sneakers, his light petticoat and gloves that weren’t even thick. His breath ghosted from his lips as though his silver soul was ebbing out of him with every exhale, and he couldn’t see a damn inch in front of him – only the onslaught of pelting sleet; only nothingness for miles and miles of the unknown before him. He didn’t even know if he was going the right way or not, honestly. He could only trust in Wyvie – the only stalwart able to withstand this weather; he couldn’t even fathom the cold long enough to be able to send out Zuzu, and even then, what could she do? She wasn’t built for the cold – none of them were – and the conditions were far too harsh to even be able to flap her wings. It only meant her fainting in no time flat; best not to even try that approach.
So this was the only thing he could dare to think of was hold onto Wyvie’s paw for dear life, and hope his scrappy little friend could see through the cold with his wide, wide eyes, and be able to hold out until he could see some sort of civilization in the distance. But he came to realize all-too-quickly that it was not Wyvie that he should have been worrying about; he could hardly feel the feet he was lifting through the inches and inches of crunching snow; it was only because of his knees that he could still understand that there were feet at the bottom of them. Part of him wanted to quit. Part of him wanted this all to be over with, wanted to be safe in a Pokemon Center or a warm tub where he could warm up and survive. Another part of him only realized he would get that far by trudging onward, but God, where was he? The only landmark of any kind that he could decipher among the visibility – only about as far as you could see your hand – was the rock face jutting out before him that he kept his hand pressed to for guidance. Where traveling alongside it would take him, he wasn’t sure; perhaps it would finally take him to Saffron City. Perhaps it would only take him further along the mountainside, only to wander aimlessly through it. Perhaps he would just die out here. Route 7… never would he have realized how treacherous it was; but it was nature – cold and unforgiving, making no exceptions and taking no prisoners.
It was useless to even say why he was here in Kanto anymore; the details failed to matter if he was going to die before he could ever reach his objective. But it was all he could think about; he had chased down a set of leads that all culminated to Saffron; he’d even gotten the word from a ragtag scrap of Rocket scum he’d defeated. Perhaps it was a red herring; perhaps the grunt purposefully would lead him astray – but none of that meant a damn if he was too much of an idiot to have dressed warm enough for this weather. He couldn’t even feel his teeth enough to clench his jaw; all of his anger dissipated into shudders. Dammit… How could he have let this happen…? Not even dying at the hands of his adversaries; only in the cold here, fighting against nature because of his stupidity and lack of forethought. Not even a noble death; not even fast – just freezinghere, slowly, slowly…
Eventually, Wyvie’s wide, wide yellow eyes sought to move him and Silver out from the comfort of the moving rock face, and break away from it into the unknown, with only the snow before them and Wyvie’s foresight to be able to see them through till civilization. Silver looked to his partner with untrusting eyes; he couldn’t abandon the one security he had – the one landmark, the one piece of Earth that wasn’t covered all with snow, but he knew – he knew – he would be unable to move forward should he keep going on as he would. His trembling hand gripped tighter to Wyvie’s, before he realized he could hardly feel his muscles flex to hold his Weavile’s paw, and he took his first few steps out into the open cold. His throat was dry and stripped of any possible moisture, and his lungs burned, the mist of his condensed breath sapping away his energy until his skin was alabaster porcelain, cold to the touch, and he could no longer find the air to breathe with.
His world began to grow blurry as he trudged along; Wyvie soon became a watercolor blur of blacks and reds, surrounded by the powdery white like dewdrops. His Weavile shifted into focus, only to dissipate out into the onrushing flurry. He couldn’t see his eyes. Wyvie paused in front of him with a look of concern on his unwritten, lineless eyes and they both stopped. Keep moving, he told himself, trying to command his frozen feet. Keep moving, he tried to breathe out the energy to continue from lungs starved of useable oxygen. Keep moving, he tried to see forward with dry eyes and frozen tears, and could see nothing – nothing but colors all melding together like melting crayons – blacks and reds and whites and blues and whites and blues and whites and grays; soon blacks began to form little spots in his vision, far to the right and to the left and up and down past where Wyvie ever would’ve been, and they grew and they grew and grew until he could feel the crunch of snow against his knees as the cold snaked up his nerves like whiplashes. He swallowed, but he could find nothing to swallow down. Wyvie was holding him now, looking down at him, chittering and chirruping in the little cries Silver recognized as his name. Soon, even then, Wyvie’s cries drowned underwater, and Silver could only vaguely recognize the motion of him being shaken.
Wyvie disappeared somewhere in the black, black splotches that consumed his vision, and the white was gone.
He couldn’t just leave him; this was his best friend; he couldn’t leave him. Wyvie held Silver there as his head bowed back, his chest heaving for the purchase of any sort of air his lungs could still gulp down. He felt so torn; Wyvie knew now that he was too small to carry him any distance, and leaving him would leave him to the elements. He looked around in the distance; unlike what Silver could see, Wyvie knew the city was close; his wide yellow eyes could see the peaks and windows of the skyscrapers ahead that signaled Saffron was near – but not near enough. Instead, his eyes focused on a blur of white and brown in the distance – close enough that it was a few short sprints away, with Wyvie’s feet adapted to run above the snow. The chimney smoked; there was life within it – help; there was helpwithin it. Wyvie looked to the distant cottage with his eyes hopeful, but still, he looked to Silver before him, holding him now in both of his long, wide paws. He couldn’t leave him.
He cried out to the cottage, his low cry swallowed up by the whipping wind surrounding him, but still, he tried to call out louder than it, somehow, somehow to the life within the cottage that they could come out and help him. He called out once more, then twice, desperately fighting off his tears of desperation. He couldn’t. Leave. Him. But after a few moments of his eyes trained on the cottage, no form emerged from it. Nobody came to help him. He would… have to leave Silver there – his eyes closed and skin paled pink, and freezing to the touch, but still breathing, the low foggy mist emerging from his nose and the part of his lips. He looked as he did when he dreamed. Wyvie bit down his lip, finally setting Silver down in the snow there, unable to give him anything to warm him with further than what Silver was wearing already; he could give him no further protection, leave him there – vulnerable. But only for a few moments, he thought to himself, it wouldn’t be long. He pressed his forehead to Silver’s before rising back up, rushing out with his incredible speed to the cottage before him, now untethered to act as Silver’s guide in the slow speed he’d walk through with his human boots deep in the snow.
He approached the cottage with precision, looking into the parted window to see a man there – his orange hair unfurled and drawn down to his shoulders, glasses set atop his nose. Compared to Silver, the man was massive; compared to Wyvie, well, he was still more massive, but he looked just as thin. Either way, he was a human being within that house, and he was help more than anything. He made to move for the front door – knock on it like humans do – but he remembered his skills that Silver had taught him on how to find the ways to unlock windows and sneak into them within. He also remembered Silver’s want to reform the two of them and that no more breaking into houses was something they both aspired for (although, it brought Wyvie great dismay); but this was urgent; his friend could die in the cold now; who the hell cared if he scared the man? Only that… well… maybe he wouldn’t help, and considering his size, the man might be able to chase him off. Maybe Silver’s advice was for the best. He came back to the front door, banging on it intensely, his bison calf cry loud and desperate, tears beginning to prick at the corner of his eyes.Please answer, he cried, please answer! My friend is in danger; please open the door!
Please answer. God, please answer. Silver’s life depended on it.
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