Chapter Text
A simple trip to the pharmacy nearby was all Friede intended for his mission to be. Walking there from where the ship was docked was an effortless task, after all. Easy, quick, efficient. Poor Roy was struggling with constant headaches, so he decided to take action and look for some possible over-the-counter medications. The last thing he expected was the sight of a tired-looking Amethio crouched over the bandaid aisle.
“Well, well, look who it is!” Exclaimed Friede, chuckling a bit at the way Amethio’s head instantly turned, a look of undeniable panic and surprise crossing his worn-down features.
Upon further inspection and scrutiny, Friede observed something strange. A blue bruise and a bandaged cheek rested on the boy's face, under his left eye and on his right cheek. No way Friede’s watchful eyes would miss something so poorly hidden.
“You don’t look too good.” Commented Friede, allowing his tone to drop into a somewhat softer one, as if afraid he’d scare the timid boy away. “Didja get hurt?” The answer was obvious, but he was more than willing to push his luck to see how far a conversation with the ever-so-stoic Amethio would go.
Amethio bristled, momentarily taken off guard. “What is it to you?” He retorted defensively, his shoulders tensing. He lifted himself from the ground, still holding a couple of boxes of bandages.
“Sheesh, no reason to get all scared around me, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Friede said, putting his hands up in a placating gesture so Amethio would feel safer. For some reason, now more than ever, Friede was reminded of the fact that his rival – so imposing and resolute – was only a child. He looked so small… So fragile. Like an Espurr begging for some treats or attention. Something had happened, and Friede, as nosey as ever, was determined to get to the bottom of it. With newfound resolve, he continued to push, nudged by the silence that fell over the two.
Since Amethio seemed so unwilling to respond, Friede took matters into his own hands. “Hey.. I know we’re rivals and all, but are you sure this job is really… y’know..” he trailed off, uncertain of how to phrase it. He made a gesture with his hands, trying to get his point across. “Safe?” he tried, taking a cautious step forward.
As if physically hurt, Amethio recoiled, looking beyond offended. “If anyone is to tell me how to do my job, it’s certainly not you.” He aggressively stated, fumbling with the boxes in his hands.
“Really? ‘Cuz it looks like you’re hurt.” He gestured towards the bandage on Amethio’s face and his poorly concealed black eye. “And I’d reckon it’s because of your area of work, no?” Friede pressed further, unwavering. He took a step back to demonstrate that he was of no threat.
“I’m going to leave now.” Amethio huffed. He seemed indignant– and way more frustrated than Friede usually saw him. He turned and began to walk away, his footsteps quick., That didn’t repel Friede; no, in fact, it only made him more curious and persistent.
Friede kept up the questions, much to Amethio’s annoyance. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed today?” He attempted to say, only to be rudely cut off by a prickly Amethio, who spoke back loud enough to garner the attention of nearby shoppers.
“Stop following me.” Hissed Amethio, narrowing his eyes, which he kept glued to the ground, refusing to give Friede time of day or proper eye contact. He sped up, turning a corner so fast that Friede thought he would bump into a shelf.
“Whoa there!” Yelped Friede, his hands hovering awkwardly over Amethio, who was holding onto a nearby wall for support.
Okay, now something was really rubbing Friede the wrong way about this whole situation. As if ashamed of being seen as weak (or human), Amethio kept his head low, holding the boxes of bandages close to his chest.
“Get away.” Muttered Amethio, seemingly uncomfortable with the two’s distance– or the lack thereof. Friede kept quiet but put some more room between the two.
“I said–” he began sharply.
“Okay, okay! Jeez.” Friede sighed. “I just.. I worry about you– just a kid in a criminal organisation. What are you, seventeen?” His concern was genuine; that much was obvious, even to someone like Amethio.
“Don’t. Don’t waste your time.” Amethio said firmly. “And I’m sixteen.” He added with a hint of tiredness in his tone and body language. His shoulders seemed to slouch a bit, as if he were weighed down by something. Perhaps it was the responsibility he held at such a young age?
Friede had to do a double-take. Only sixteen? Yikes, poor kid! He found himself thinking, despite their differences and rivalry. He was sure that every ounce of disbelief and confusion he felt was visible in the way his jaw almost flew agape. “Sixteen?” He echoed, raising an eyebrow. “The hell are you doing in a criminal organisation?!” He demanded, his voice high-pitched, betraying his bewilderment.
Amethio, still visibly bothered, gave a curt nod. “Yes. Now, if you’ll allow me,” he motioned for Friede to clear the way to the cash register, to which his rival sighed and hesitantly gave him the space he needed.
“Thank you.” Amethio let out a breath of relief.
He didn’t seem to notice that Friede followed him until he was out the door. It was raining. Hard. Petrichor wafted through the air the moment the doors opened, and Friede found himself enjoying the wind against his face. “Hey. Want my umbrella?” Friede offered it to him, holding it out.
“What?” Amethio jumped, eyeing him warily.
“My umbrella. You can have it; I have plenty on the ship.” Friede offered kindly, his hand and the umbrella still extended.
The rain was pouring even more now, a flash of lightning and thunder sending a chill down Friede’s cold spine. Great. Because of his selfless act of heroism, he’d have to walk home in the rain with one less umbrella. How benevolent was he, offering something he needed to his enemy, he mused with a huff.
“I..” With another look at the rapidly darkening sky, Amethio turned back to Friede, looking somewhat vulnerable and unsure. At that very moment, his Rotom Phone began to ring. Awkwardly, he fished through his pocket, clumsily grabbing hold of it and answering it. “Yes?” His tone had switched from the uncertain stutter he’d heard earlier, transforming into something he was more accustomed to: the stoic, composed Explorer.
After a moment of quiet, he nodded, as if the person on the other line could see him. “Understood. I’m on my way. Sorry.” Amethio sheepishly looked at his feet, his eyes filled with.. Regret?
“I swear, if that’s Mr Awfully Shy..” Murmured Friede, mostly to himself. His arm was growing sore, as he still held the umbrella out for Amethio, who suddenly snatched it.
“Thanks.” The kid bashfully said, tucking it under his arm so he could hold his bags with two hands.
With that, he gave a nod goodbye, and Friede watched him leave wordlessly.
What a strange encounter. He’d been pretty vague about his banged-up state, but… Earlier, he seemed to flinch as Friede got closer, not to mention suffering from what seemed to be a dizzy spell, which had forced him to hold the wall for support. Definitely a ‘not-very-Amethio’ thing to do. That display of vulnerability alone had made Friede wonder…
What happened behind closed doors? What did the Explorers do? What kind of missions? Why had Amethio looked so messed up?
Friede had a feeling his many, many questions would remain unanswered for the time being. And for now, he was okay with it. As long as he had a little chance to help, even if it meant something as small as offering an umbrella.
At that, he headed back into the store to search for Roy’s meds, eager to head back home.