7: we always used to have sleepovers as children, why would it be weird now?
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Ash is at his wit’s end.
It has been a long, long time since he’s been truly and properly alone. Even then, he knows so many people in so many corners of the world, it is hardly a surprise when he bumps into a familiar and friendly face on his journeys. They will typically spend a few days to weeks together, and then, eventually—as they always do—part ways again with a spirited promise to meet again soon.
This is how it always is. Ash wouldn’t have it any other way.
Except for one Gary Oak, that is.
Oh, Ash sees him everywhere. They run into each other, quite literally, in Castelia City trying to find a place in line for a Casteliacone. They cross paths a dozen times or more at the docks in Vermilion City, boarding separate ships to faraway regions. They even find themselves two seats apart on an airplane bound from Kalos to Kanto.
But after a few hours of conversation, Gary always steps back again. Says, somehow bracingly, “It was good to see ya, Ash,” “I’ll see ya around,” “Catch ya later”—each new iteration means the same thing: I’m not sticking around this time, either.
Since they were kids on the road for the first time, this is how it has been. One degree of separation, and then a dozen more with each one of Gary’s receding footsteps. Ash cannot trace or follow them, has never known how to catch up to someone whose movements always face away from him. He spent so long trying, he became someone whose footsteps others believe can be followed, too. Sometimes, he even needs to remind himself that the view from up ahead cannot be the reason he refuses to turn around when a friend calls out his name.
It is almost ironic, then, that this should be their position now: caught out in the lush green of northern Hoenn, Ash calling out to the shadowed figure ahead of him, “Gary! Hey, wait up!”
Gary pauses, though he does not so much as turn his head until Ash has jogged up beside him. He offers Gary his best winning smile and says, “Wasn’t expecting to find you out here! What’re you up to?”
“Looking for a Pokémon.” Gary’s eyes turn away from him again, sweeping over the sunlight-dappled shrubbery. “Actually, maybe you could help me out.”
“Sure! What are we looking for?”
“Kecleon.”
Ash blinks. “Did you wanna catch one?”
He shakes his head. “It’s injured. I saw it earlier, but it disappeared before I could get close enough to check it. I doubt it’s gone far. It didn’t look like it was in very good shape.”
Ash’s decision was already made when he saw Gary standing out here alone in the first place, but that is enough to solidify his convictions. With a sharp nod, he says, “I’ll check this way, then. We can meet back here.”
Gary’s gaze still doesn’t reach his, even as he nods his agreement. Ash doesn’t waste any time to do more than notice it; they will return to each other, without a doubt. They always do, at least long enough so that Gary can say good-bye.
The search, however, is long and fruitless. The leaves shudder with the late summer breeze, calling his and Pikachu’s attention, but never once do they encounter anything larger than a skittish Oddish or wide-eyed Zigzagoon peering out from behind tree trunks and bushes. As green begins to glow orange with the final strokes of daytime, Ash trudges back to the place he met up with Gary to wait for Staraptor to report back to him with its findings.
It arrives only a few minutes later, head bowed as it delivers to him one disappointed squawk: nothing.
Ash smiles at his Pokémon and pulls out its ball to recall it. “It’s okay. You did your best. Thanks for the help.”
By now, the last coals of evening are beginning to cool into dark splotches all around him. The wind whispers through the trees; he wraps his arms around his torso, momentarily frozen by the lonely quality of its passage.
But then there is a rustling to his right. His head snaps around just as Gary appears from the late-day shadows. He’s carrying a bundle in his arms, brow pinched. Without even looking up from it, he steps past Ash to get to the clearing behind them and says, “Help me start a fire, would ya?”
Ash doesn’t need to be told twice when there is an injured Pokémon in their midst. He pulls out two Poké Balls and directs Sceptile and Pignite to begin gathering kindling for them. Pikachu hops off his shoulder and scurries away to help them.
In no time at all, the fire is blazing and a small pile of juicy oran and sitrus berries have been gathered nearby it. Ash watches from one side of their makeshift fire pit as Gary mutters reassurances to the tired, feverish Kecleon, then puts his back to the scene and begins pitching his tent. It is twenty parts habit and eighty parts hope that has him throwing out the extra sleeping bag he’s taken to carrying since he realized how often he is pulling his friends away from their day-to-day lives for adventures without them having any time to prepare for the fact.
It is only when he crosses to the other side of their site that he sees Gary is watching him. It is not merely the nighttime shadows that contribute to the darkness of his expression.
“I should take Kecleon to the Pokémon Centre,” he says.
Ash peers down at the now-sleeping Pokémon with a frown. “Is it really that sick? It’s gonna take at least an hour to get there, and that’s if we don’t get lost or sidetracked on the way. ‘Sides, the Pokémon Centre’s gonna be closed soon. We shouldn’t wake Nurse Joy if it’s not an emergency.”
The wind slices between them, much cooler now that the sun has gone away.
And then Gary says, voice tight, “Who said anything about ‘we’?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Ash mutters. “‘Course I’d come with ya.”
A sigh. He watches as some of the tension drifts out from Gary’s body.
“Stay here,” Ash tells him. “I set up the tent for us both. You need to get some sleep too, y’know. You were searching for it all day!”
But just when he thinks Gary is going to acquiesce, he turns around and grabs his bag from the ground. Still not looking at Ash, he says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
The night seems, all at once to still. Ash stands there for a long moment, heart beating loud and fast, just waiting for Gary to quantify that statement. To give him some kind of reason for his departure, if there ever even was one, but—
He doesn’t.
And finally, the desperate irritation beneath his breast rises and swells. He takes a step forward, demanding, “Why not? You’re always doing this! Can’t you just trust me on this?”
He sees when the tension returns. A familiar weight on Gary’s shoulders.
“It’s not about trust. This is just how it is.”
Gary takes a step away from him.
“But why’s it gotta be how it is? C’mon, Gary, we used to have sleepovers all the time as kids! What’s so different about it now?”
His heart leaps up into his throat when Gary whirls around. The shadows are cast away by the light from the fire, revealing wide, astounded—angry?—eyes.
“What part of this is anything like that?”
Ash swallows. “Well, uh—how is it anything not like that? We share the tent and if you’re really too worried about Kecleon to sleep, then I’ll be here to keep you company. Or, if not, then we can watch each other’s backs if anything happens. Isn’t that a good thing?”
Gary opens his mouth, then closes it again. He blinks once, hard, then laughs. It is not a joyous sound in the slightest; Ash is reminded of sneering taunts, a rivalry he never knew how to play out.
He says, feeling very small, “I just wish you’d stop walking away.”
A beat passes. Gary lifts one hand up to his nose, sighing deeply. When he drops again, the heat in his gaze has simmered down into something less familiar, almost sad.
“It’s different, Ash. We…we’re different. It’s been a long time. Let it go, all right?”
“No. Why should I? You aren’t giving me a reason to!”
Behind him, the fire spits and crackles. Pikachu pads around it in order to sit down by his feet, looking up at Gary quizzically.
“The reason is we aren’t kids anymore.” Gary hoists his bag up higher on his shoulder, determinedly not looking at either of them. “You’re never gonna get it, so why bother wasting time explaining? It was good to see ya, Ash, but—”
Before he can finish the thought, Ash surges forward and grabs hold of his wrist. When Gary’s wide eyes fall down to meet his glare, all he can think to say is, “Stop leaving me behind, you jerk!”
He feels Gary’s hand twitch, but he dares not release his hold now. Gary doesn’t force him to, either.
He just asks, “Is that what you think I’ve been doing?”
And all at once, the anger floods out of him. His grip relaxes, just slightly. He lowers his gaze, and he nods.
The wind picks up again, but Ash doesn’t feel its bite as Gary steps in closer to him again. Gary’s fingers brush against his wrist, then force their way up to his hand, effectively loosening Ash’s hold on him. But just when Ash expects the warmth to disappear, those fingers wrap between his, holding tight.
“Okay,” Gary says, very quietly. He shrugs his shoulder, so that his bag falls down his free arm and back to the ground. His hand squeezes Ash’s. “I’ll stay.”
Ash breathes out, deflating against him. His head falls to rest against Gary’s shoulder. Everything else seems in an instant to disappear.
“I missed you,” he admits at last.
Gary stills. But he does not pull away. And finally, finally, he lifts his free hand up to Ash’s cheek. It is warm, and familiar.
a lil doodle (it's a bit messy) FOR MY AMAZING FRIEND @pokemon-i-choose-you @grummpig HAPPY BIRTHDAY ILYSM I HOPE YOU HAD AN AMAZING DAY AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH💖🎉🎉🎉🎂🎂🎂🎁🎈🎈
