johtoflow:

“… Haha…” What a hypocrite he had been. Caring for everyone, wishing everyone well, going out of his way to say you are not alone, and then shutting himself away, never giving others the same chance. Or something to that effect. “Ahaha…” He can’t stop laughing. Why can’t he stop? It keeps coming, it won’t stop, and it forces him to lean on the wall he jumped earlier, just to collect himself. “You’re really… somethin’ special.” The tears are there; they never fell, never dropped, just appeared without Gold’s notice, now that he came face-to-face with those metallic eyes that betrayed trust and steely conviction. What kind of eyes did Gold have?

Don’t give me that kind of look, he wanted to say, as again he dropped his gaze. 

“You won’t hate me, huh?” What an idiot I’ve been. “What about Crys?” It was the question still burning in his mind, something unresolved– she’s definitely going to kick his ass when she finds him, even if Silver let him off easy– but he would definitely prefer a thousand of her high-powered kicks to even a second of watching her cry. Pathetic. What kind of man am I? 

“I just…” He was stopped again. Every time he wanted to say those things that bothered him, his voice caught in his throat. Useless. Pathetic. Broken. “I mean…” Lazy. Obnoxious. Unworthy. “I’ve been, y’know,” insensitive, ridiculous, annoying, “I guess I just needed out of Johto. Bad memories n’ all, it was gettin’ hard to keep living there.” 

Another save at the last minute, just as he thought he’d be able to get to the truth. It was hard– it was hard! How would he even start that kind of conversation? Hey, Silver, do you have nightmares? Do ya wish you were dead sometimes? D’you have days where ya can’t get out of bed because everything feels empty and nothing’s worth it n’ you’re sorta hoping you’ll die in your sleep? What a mood-killer! Even if he could trust Silver, how could he even begin to explain these things without getting a first-class ticket to the mental ward?

“So, right, burgers. The, uh, place’s ahead, I think, around the corner, got a red neon sign with a milkshake on it…” Mindlessly talking, and mindlessly walking, his mind started to backtrack, backing out of the danger zone and into the safety of nonchalant conversation. “Think I’ll get a cheeseburger, get relish on it, can’t have a burg without fries, or should I get ketchup … And a choco milkshake…” (Whoever said guys don’t stress-eat has clearly never met Gold.)

      eyes widen when tears finally drip from golden hues, streaking his friend’s cheeks before falling off his chin amidst his laughter. why is he laughing? why can there be tears when he’s making such a painful sound —– that sort of thing only sounds more hysteric than anything else. it leaves the heir’s chest tightening, heart clenching, gut twisting. even though he told himself he would be there for gold, how come it had come down to the older showing such a side of him?

      why did you leave yourself all alone and let yourself become this?

       he wants to ask. the question sits on his tongue, but the mention of crystal leaves for it to dissolve instead.  “crystal doesn’t hate you. she’s just as worried as i am.”  more openly than he who always remained calm on the surface, but just as much all the same. between himself and gold, the girl served as the balancer and mediator between them – the friendship they had together was something important and irreplaceable. gold had no reason to doubt them.

      silver is capable of picking up the unspoken, even if it’s only a FRACTION. his expression remains neutral – a mask, something he knows how to wear all too well – but there’s the slightest grit of his teeth. silence engulfs the air between them as the unspoken conversation seems only to elongate with every second that ticks by.

      it’s only when gold turns to start walking again that the younger finally reacts, an arm reaching out to latch around his arm and grip tightly at the worn fabric to bring him back, close enough for his forehead to press against the hatcher’s shoulder.

      “gold,”  fingers curl tighter, and had his gloves not covered his hands, he’s sure the knuckles would be white.  “don’t keep those things to yourself. don’t pretend they don’t bother you. if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have left the way you did.”

      “i can’t say i’ve felt those things as intensely, but i have some understanding.”  he knows what it feels to be at your lowest, to feel you have no one – many years of his beginning of his life felt like an endless fog that weighed heavy on him, only telling him his fate would be to be damned and unwanted. it wasn’t until he found friendship in gold and the other dexholders he could slowly come to accept himself and throw away those feelings.

      it wasn’t something anyone could defeat alone, not even a dexholder, no matter how amazing. even their senior, red, had his moments.

      “you can talk to me.”