I See Funny Things. (Preciousmetalshipping)

Chapter VIII

[this chapter is probably gonna be pretty emotion-heavy, btw. also, vague self harm description]

Coffee cups and music books lay vacantly open around an unlit room. Curtains fluttered delicately in the spring wind as stripes of oranging sunlight pooled around a dark figure. Silver lifted his head from his desk. He shook his head and wrote in his journal. It was a useless attempt at forgetting the demons that plagued his mind. He felt saline droplets cover his vision, allowing him to see through a lens of disparity. 

Why am I crying? Is there even a clear reason?

He shook his head once again. Silver's eyes trailed down to the reddened slashes on his arm. Dried.

"I won't admit it. I won't..." He whispered to himself, though it was clearly futile.

A heavy head rested itself back on the desk. A sad little smile begged at the corners of Silver's mouth, pulling them upward with nostalgia. 

I lacked his personality for so long... I was so lost without him... Silver laughed quietly to himself. Walls of the apartment began to shake from a loud argument next door. 

"He means the world to me; he brightens my day unlike anything else..."

The trainer shook his head of messy hair once more, pulling his leather bound notebook and fountain pen toward him. 

As the ink words and blood ridden lines dried to their pages, they expressed his opposing notions.

I love you more than the stars that pierce the evening's darkness.

Yet I hate myself more often than the sun dances across the noon sky.

. . . . . 

Wednesday was difficult for Silver to manage. He spent the day reflecting on his life while working at his part-time Pokémart job. A few customers were nice enough to wish him a good day, to which he gave an apathetic nod in response.

Sure enough, by Thursday, the five o'clock train arrived right on time. And, after several minutes of bumpy tracks and passing trees, the train slowed to a stop. A light smile coated Silver's sharp features as his effervescent friend boarded the train.

Golden eyes scanned the car for the redheaded ex-rival, and found him standing in his usual spot. Of course, the car was crowded as hell, so there wouldn't be any room to sit.

There was something odd about Silver today. He generally seemed deep in thought at first sight, but especially now more than ever.

Silver was casually greeted, and he snapped his book shut in response. "Hi." He stared up at the trainer through his reading glasses, apparently catching him off guard.

Gold thought a moment, and decided on responding with, "I'm going to be up front with you. You seem different today, Silv."

Silver blinked for a moment, embarrassed and surprised that Gold had noticed such a thing. "Do I? I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's nothing bad. You're probably just in a different mood than usual, yeah?"

Gold jokingly punched the bitter metal in the shoulder, earning an eye roll.

"S'pose you're right."

The two avoided eye contact for an awkward few seconds, until Gold added, "Well?"

Silver blinked. "'Well' what?"

"Are you gonna tell me?" Gold's eyebrows went up suggestively. "Your best friend?"

Silver stared at the funny boy a moment and felt his face heat up. "Who said you were my best friend?"

"Well, ya got a better one?"

Silver sighed and gave in to the request. "Do you want to hear the short answer or the long one?"

Gold gestured reassuring. "I got time. Tell me whatever you're comfy with."

"Gold, be serious..." Silver gave a stern mom face.

"I am! I am. Go ahead."

Silver took a deep breath to try an alleviate the pit in his stomach. His eyes found Gold's, and he couldn't help but pause for a moment. This would be the last time he would see Gold's eyes so innocently, so pure and unknowing of the depth of his problems.

He breathed again for a minute before finally responding.

"I see funny things."

Gold tilted his head. "You... See things?"

"And I hear them, too." Silver whispered, eyes now focused on the floor.

"I don't think I understand." Gold placed a light hand on his companion's forearm, only to be brushed off.

Silver pulled a piece of hair behind his ear, continuing to stare at the floor. "I wake up, and all that I can possibly see is grey. Nothing has any life, avidity, color. I get out of bed and open the curtains of my cold window, knowing full well that nothing matters. I have no family. I ran away from my toxic household for long enough to go on a journey with you, and for the first time in my life, I felt truly happy. And you taught me a lot of things on that journey. I had never loved anything until I learned to love my Pokémon on that journey. I came back home thinking from a completely new perspective. And when I did return home, my father disappeared. And, now, I don't even remember what my mother looks like. I lost my home. I lost my everything. So now I live in an overpriced apartment, and can't even afford to turn the lights on because of my medical bills. And then, one day, you were there. You were riding the same train as me. I thought it was fate. I thought that maybe, we'd be able to exchange hello's, and laugh a little, and forget, just for a moment, that we were grown up now. Maybe we could be kids again, just for a moment. Then you forgot me. You forgot all about me. And I know you remember me now, but even so... The person who influenced my life the most forgot who I was. But who knows, maybe you were right to forget me. Am I even real? Is there any proof out there that I even exist other than a certificate with my name and a stamp on it? I've never accomplished anything spectacular. I've never been one to make friends. I don't even know where my Pokemon are right now. My imprint on the world is so minuscule. And the voices--the voices! They don't ever stop! They whisper to me when I'm trying to sleep. They yell at me when I'm feeling okay-ish for once. They scream at me in crowded places. They tell me over and over what a screw up I am, how I shouldn't and don't even exist. They're not real, the doctors tell me. But I can feel them. And I know they're not real, too, so it only secludes me even further to be the only one able to see and feel each and every antagonizing, chastising word."

He felt the urge to cry, but knew that he was no longer able to. "Like I said, everything is grey. But you have no idea... No fucking idea how badly I just want to see black."