Whispers in the Dark「Pokemon Fanfiction」

Tᴡᴇɴᴛʏ﹣Fᴏᴜʀ • Aᴅᴅɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

* note: warning for abuse ; drugs *

Chapter Twenty-Four: Addiction

Two at night. A peculiar time when others would slept, and yet, he was out here, nestled in the slim branches of an Oran Berry tree and watching as his Pokemon trained below.

He would offer to train with them—and he had, but his Pokemon had seemed concerned, and he'd been forced to take an eventual break while they worked on their own. It made him glad, to be honest—but he didn't even know what honest meant any longer.

"Good job, Flygon," he mumbled in a tired voice, forcing himself to stay awake. "That Dragon Claw is almost perfect. Now, practice with Milotic and work on your reaction time."

The draconic creature glanced up, shooting him a worried look—and he turned away on instinct, avoiding the red-gilded gaze he was offered. It would feel even worse if his Pokemon thought of him as weak—and he breathed a sigh of relief as the beast gave a curt nod, turning away and moving off with a swift manoeuvre of her wings.

"Oh, you're done too, Larvesta?" His fingers gripped against the rough surface of tree bark, not caring that they were starting to bleed a little. "Good work on that Flame Burst and Giga Drain. I'd like you to do a little agility training, OK? Just a round of the forest and try jumping from branch to branch."

A yip escaped the bug-like Pokemon's mouth, and she was thankfully less persistent that the previous one had been—after all, they'd been together for a shorter time, and the small organism was less tuned to his trainer's quirks.

He relaxed once more as the creature disappeared into the waiting shadows of his night—he wasn't too concerned about Larvesta. The Pokemon could take care of herself, and besides, his other members were close by if she did need any assistance.

Shifting himself so that he wasn't dangling in such a precarious manner, the boy inspected his grazed palms, eyes scanning over the scratches and abrasions that the tree had given him. It was no matter, though—all he had to do was wash his hands later and he would be fine.

The trainer glanced down once again, watching the rest of his Pokemon train—and he felt horrible. Had they not wanted such a weak trainer to join them, fearing that they would be hindered?

"Enough," he muttered to himself, startling when his finger caught against the icy surface of a Pokeball's button—and he almost didn't manage to keep himself balanced on the branch as stream of white light almost blinded him for a moment.

He inched back as the Beldum appeared in front of him, glaring at the Pokemon with an air of exhaustion—he was too tired to say anything condescending.

The Pokemon just stared back with its usual emotionless expression on its face, ruby pupil blinking at him as it made no movement whatsoever, instead waiting for his trainer to issue a command with irritable patience.

Ryou reached up, black spots dancing in front of his vision as he tried to return the creature to its home. He couldn't even see through the blurred haze drooping over his eyes, however, and ended up aiming at the wrong spot.

"You know what?" He shook his head, not even bothering to rub away the sleepiness from his eyes. "I don't care. Just go train by yourself or something—do whatever you want. Just come back in half an hour."

A metallic ping sounded from somewhere within the Pokemon's body, and the two of them locked gazes for a few moments longer—then, as if having found a different interest, it steered its small frame away, floating away from the teenager and making its way into the night.