Red burst into Blue's room like a whirlwind, slamming the door so hard the hinges groaned in protest. The sudden force rattled the shelves, sending a stack of books tumbling to the floor.

Blue, lying on the couch with an ice pack on his forehead, let out an agonized groan. “Red! Keep it down! My head’s gonna burst!”

Red, in full panic mode, bolted to Blue's side, his face a mask of terror. He grabbed Blue by the shoulders and began to shake him violently, his silent screams of worry written all over his face.

“RED, STOP!” Blue yelled, wincing. “You’re hurting my arm!”

Red froze, looking down at Blue’s arm. A fresh bandage wrapped around it stood out starkly against the battered trainer’s bruised skin. Red’s eyes widened in horror, and he immediately let go as if Blue were made of glass. He started flailing his hands, his expression screaming I broke him! I broke him more!

Blue glared, clutching his arm protectively. “Seriously, Red! I fought off an entire flock of Fearow! I don’t need you finishing me off!”

But Red wasn’t listening. He was too busy sprinting around the room like a headless Torchic, flapping his arms as if that would somehow summon a solution. His silent panic was so dramatic that even Blue, in his pain-riddled state, had to pause and watch the spectacle unfold.

Red dashed to the medicine cabinet, flung it open, and yanked out every single bottle. He held them up one by one, glancing frantically between them as if trying to determine which was the magical Fix-Blue Potion. Finally, he shoved a random bottle toward Blue, gesturing furiously for him to drink it.

Blue squinted at the label. “...This is mouthwash.”

Red’s face fell, and he immediately bolted back to the cabinet. He returned moments later with a box of band-aids, holding it up like a holy artifact.

Blue smacked his forehead—instantly regretting it due to the pounding headache—and groaned. “Red, I don’t need band-aids! I need peace and quiet!”

But Red wasn’t giving up. He grabbed the ice pack that had fallen off Blue’s head and plopped it back down. Unfortunately, he missed the forehead entirely, and it landed squarely on Blue’s face.

“RED!” Blue shouted, his muffled voice furious. He ripped the ice pack off and threw it across the room. “If you don’t calm down, I’m going to—”

Before he could finish, Red darted to the window, threw it open, and leaned out, flailing his arms. He looked like he was trying to signal a passing helicopter or maybe summon the Pokémon League for reinforcements.

Blue slumped back onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, staring at the ceiling. “Why do I even bother…”

Red finally turned back around, his panic subsiding just enough for him to realize he wasn’t helping. He shuffled sheepishly back to Blue’s side, his head hanging low. Slowly, he pointed to the bandage on Blue’s arm and signed, Are you okay?

Blue blinked at him, his frustration melting slightly at the genuine concern in Red’s eyes. He let out a long breath. “I’ll be fine. I just need rest. And maybe a break from your... helpfulness.”

Red nodded solemnly, sitting down on the floor beside the couch. For a moment, it was quiet, and Blue thought he might finally get some peace.

Then Red stood up, grabbed the ice pack again, and gently placed it on Blue’s forehead—this time in the correct spot. He gave Blue a thumbs-up, as if to say, Fixed it.

Blue groaned, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to yell at you right now.”

Red grinned silently, clearly taking that as a victory.

Professor Oak stepped into Blue's room, only to pause mid-stride at the sight in front of him. He blinked, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he took in the chaos.

Red was wrapped around Blue like a terrified Lickitung, his face buried in Blue’s shoulder. Silent sobs wracked his frame as he clung desperately to his childhood friend. Meanwhile, Blue, looking half amused and half exasperated, was awkwardly patting Red on the back.

Oak cleared his throat, raising a curious brow. “How did this—”

Blue cut him off with a weary sigh, his free hand gesturing toward Red. “He’s convinced I’m going to need a robotic limb.”

Oak’s eyebrows shot up. “How did you—”

Blue rolled his eyes, shifting slightly under Red’s weight. “I’ve been his friend since we were kids. I know how his mind works. The second he saw the bandages, he spiraled.”

Red, still clinging to Blue, let out another silent sob, shaking his head as if to say, It’s all my fault!

Oak crossed his arms, clearly trying to hold back a smile. “And what exactly did you tell him to calm him down?”

Blue smirked faintly. “Oh, nothing yet. I figured I’d let him cry it out first. Makes things easier.”

Oak sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I swear, you two are more dramatic than a soap opera.”

Red pulled back slightly, his face streaked with tears, and glared at Oak. He pointed emphatically at Blue’s arm, his silent expression screaming, This is serious!

Blue snorted. “Relax, Red. It’s a sprain, not a severed limb. I’ll be fine.”

Red shot him a disbelieving look, clearly unconvinced, and turned his pleading gaze to Oak.

Oak held up his hands. “Don’t drag me into this. You’re doing fine, Blue. He’s not going to calm down until he’s absolutely certain you’re okay.”

Blue sighed dramatically, patting Red’s shoulder. “Fine. If it’ll stop your meltdown, I promise to take extra care of my arm. No robotic limbs needed, okay?”

Red sniffled and gave a hesitant nod, still looking skeptical.

Oak chuckled, shaking his head as he turned to leave. “You boys never change.” He paused at the door and added with a teasing grin, “Just don’t let this end with you both in casts this time.”

Blue groaned. “Don’t give him ideas.”