Green is a sad kitten in snow
Title: White
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~450
Genre: Romance, Crack
Summary: Green/Red. His wish is finally heard.
Disclaimer: Pokémon isn't mine.
Author's Notes: For canoneverything's magic lamp prompt.
Green thinks he is disappearing into the white.
He can barely see his hands as they reach up towards the next outcropping of rock. His boots slip on the snow beneath his feet and his face is covered in frost; convulsing tremors wrack his frame. Only the thought of Red, sitting alone at the summit, drives him onward.
Green slows as snow weighs upon his limbs; time passes in a haze. The wind forces him back a few precious steps, but he doesn't even have the breath to curse. The arctic air burns his lungs as he breathes harshly through his nose. Then, he sees it: a glowing light.
His footsteps turn to bring him closer to the flickering beacon until he holds a tiny, glowing candle in his hands.
A tiny voice whispers, "Wishes three you'll gain from me; wisely choose what they will be-"
It's impossible, and a tiny part of Green knows that he's hallucinating, but mostly he's too exhausted to care. He doesn't hesitate; he doesn't even need three wishes. "Make Red come down," he shouts desperately over the shriek of the storm, his trembling, blue-tinged hands spilling wax onto his fingertips, where the sudden heat burns sharp. "Make him come down, please, I can't do this anymore."
The candle drops from his hands into the snow, where it flares an eerie blue before it dies. He falls to his knees beside it, his pulse pounding in his ears, and the last thing he sees is white.
--
Green's eyes fly open and he sits up, gasping. Sweat covers his body in an icy sheet. He kicks the covers off and stumbles to the kitchen, where the ordinary fluorescent lighting and the glass of water in his hands soon soothe him.
He begins to have second thoughts about climbing Mt. Silver tomorrow. The nightmares aren't new, but usually Red is in trouble, not him, and they've never been that vivid.
"Stupid," he mutters to himself. He flicks the glass and it releases an tremulous chime.
Then someone knocks outside and hope rises in his throat. Green shakes his head and forces the feeling down and goes to the door-and there he is, with fingertips still red from the biting cold, standing in a puddle of melting snow.
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~450
Genre: Romance, Crack
Summary: Green/Red. His wish is finally heard.
Disclaimer: Pokémon isn't mine.
Author's Notes: For canoneverything's magic lamp prompt.
Green thinks he is disappearing into the white.
He can barely see his hands as they reach up towards the next outcropping of rock. His boots slip on the snow beneath his feet and his face is covered in frost; convulsing tremors wrack his frame. Only the thought of Red, sitting alone at the summit, drives him onward.
Green slows as snow weighs upon his limbs; time passes in a haze. The wind forces him back a few precious steps, but he doesn't even have the breath to curse. The arctic air burns his lungs as he breathes harshly through his nose. Then, he sees it: a glowing light.
His footsteps turn to bring him closer to the flickering beacon until he holds a tiny, glowing candle in his hands.
A tiny voice whispers, "Wishes three you'll gain from me; wisely choose what they will be-"
It's impossible, and a tiny part of Green knows that he's hallucinating, but mostly he's too exhausted to care. He doesn't hesitate; he doesn't even need three wishes. "Make Red come down," he shouts desperately over the shriek of the storm, his trembling, blue-tinged hands spilling wax onto his fingertips, where the sudden heat burns sharp. "Make him come down, please, I can't do this anymore."
The candle drops from his hands into the snow, where it flares an eerie blue before it dies. He falls to his knees beside it, his pulse pounding in his ears, and the last thing he sees is white.
--
Green's eyes fly open and he sits up, gasping. Sweat covers his body in an icy sheet. He kicks the covers off and stumbles to the kitchen, where the ordinary fluorescent lighting and the glass of water in his hands soon soothe him.
He begins to have second thoughts about climbing Mt. Silver tomorrow. The nightmares aren't new, but usually Red is in trouble, not him, and they've never been that vivid.
"Stupid," he mutters to himself. He flicks the glass and it releases an tremulous chime.
Then someone knocks outside and hope rises in his throat. Green shakes his head and forces the feeling down and goes to the door-and there he is, with fingertips still red from the biting cold, standing in a puddle of melting snow.