Chapter Text
There was the familiar click of his lighter, the small flame that attempted to put a light into the darkness that surrounded it. If Volkner wasn’t drowning in pain right now, he’d almost see the metaphor for hope with it.
But that wasn’t here, nor had it been in a long while.
He took a long drag on the cigarette, holding the end over the flame that was going to at least ignite some form of relief. Even if it was fleeting, smoking cigarettes gave Volkner a few moments of peace.
Once he had it lit, the flame went out, and he returned to the feeling of darkness. Volkner leaned against the railing of the lighthouse overlooking the Sunyshore beach, thinking about how high the lighthouse was.
’Can we please stop with that?’ He heard himself protest, a small voice inside his head still holding onto some damn form of life. The small voice wasn’t heard as often these days, so Volkner was almost shocked to hear it
’But think of it, we could make it stop a lot sooner than with these cigerettes…’
Ah, there was the voice that was all too familiar. The thoughts that one day, out of nowhere, had crept into his mind and shifted the way he saw the world. The world became drab, bleak and no longer entertaining. Battles had become boring, an assembly line of trainers that would get their asses kicked; rinse and repeat.
For months this had been going on, Volkner standing on the balcony of the lighthouse, chain-smoking at 2 in the morning. It was starting to get old as well. The first time he did it, one cigarette bought him some time. Then it turned into two, and before he knew it, an entire pack.
An expensive coping mechanism, to say the least.
Volkner was pulling another drag on his cigarette when his phone buzzed. It was 2 am, so there was no sense in someone messagining him. He looked at the notification, and rolled his eyes.
Hey man, been wondering how you’ve been? Know we haven’t talked much since I started in the League but wanted to see if you wanted to catch lunch soon? -Flint
Something caught in Volkner’s throat, reading that message. He hadn’t heard from Flint in a long time…, no, it wasn’t that simple to blame it on just him.
Volkner had mostly stop responding to his messages and chats, adding him to the pile of people trying to get into contact with him.
‘It’s not like he’ll remember you when you’re gone.’
There it was. The same phrase that haunted him at night, during the day, at every waking moment. A realization that, if he did in fact take his life, who’d remember him? Most likely, he’d be mourned for a day or two, buried, and then replaced.
Like one of the capacitors in his gym, easy to replace, easy to forget.
Volkner left the message on read, not wanting to respond right now. Why Flint was up at this ungodly hour made no sense anyways. Huffing out, Volkner finished his cigarette and determined it was time to head home.
Walking back at this hour did at least show some form of beauty in the world. There were no people out, no on-lookers wondering why the famed “Shining, Shocking Star” had weeks old bags under his eyes. If Volkner was to feel anything, it was just guilt by this point.
That was the only thing swarming in his mind that broke up the feelings of being numb. The pangs of guilt when young trainers battled him and lost, only to be tossed to the side for another in line. The guilt crawled under his skin, and felt like it wasn’t going to let up.
”Arceus dammit!” Volkner cursed out loud, wishing that the cigarettes had at least done something to take the edge off. He angrily finished his walked home, and slammed the door shut when he made it there. It was now 3 am, and he had no desire to sleep and let the nightmares take over from there.
Something, a distraction, anything to get his mind off that lighthouse balcony.
He quietly walked through the dark living room in his nice loft, having memorized the layout at this point. Volkner never turned the lights on to help see, it was easier to exist that way when he was in a mood.
Over on a desk was another circuit board that was laid abandoned some time ago, but all the tools were still there. Volkner figured he could try to work on it, maybe achieve something and bring a feeling of success back.
He sat down and went to work, the soldering gun carefully adding the melted lead to the contact points. It was meticulous work, but it kept Volkner distracted. So distracted in fact, that he spent more of his daylight hours renovating the gym than battling in it.
A problem seen by people outside his head, but if they knew what was inside, they’d let him renovate 24/7.
Another line was soldered, and Volkner was beginning to feel like he was getting somewhere when his phone buzzed again-
“Fuck!” He had twitched from the buzzing and touched his hand with the end of the gun. It singed his finger pretty bad, but nothing too severe.
Volkner cursed more, and went to go wash off the solder and put some burn heal on his finger. He twisted the knob on the sink and put his finger under the running water, enjoying the cool feeling that took away the burning feeling. After putting some burn heal on, he checked his phone to see who was texting him now.
“Flint…” Volkner growled, looked at the notification. He had spammed multiple question marks, reacted to his own message, and then to make matters worse, he saw the typing dots, meaning that he was writing more.
Volkner, I’m getting worried about you. Someone told me that you’re not battling as much as you used to, and aren’t responding to calls.
‘Stop worrying about me!’ Volkner hissed inside his head, wishing that he would stop.
Message read.
Volkner cmon man, stop leaving me on read! Plz!
Message read.
What’s wrong with you?
Message read.
There was no response, and Volkner finally let himself breathe. He hoped Flint had gotten the message and would fuck off. He didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything, just do his stupid battles and focus on his gym.
The dreaded typing dots returned.
“Oh I’m about to block your as-“
A picture popped up, and Volkner almost cracked his phone from the emotions that welled up inside him. It was a picture of them as young trainers, with Pikachu and Chimchar in their arms. Flint was grinning his wide now trademark style grin, while Volkner was grinning as well. They had just beaten their first Gym together, and were on their way to a new adventure.
I miss this man.
Message read.
User blocked.
Volkner felt something, hitting that block button. There wasn’t any animosity, no anger, no. Volkner couldn’t blame Flint, as he missed that too. As painful as they were, he welcomed it, and let the tears run down his cheeks. He knew Flint would realize he had blocked him when the messages wouldn’t send anymore, and the responses would be dead.
“Dead.” Volkner muttered out loud, letting the word hover over him like a Ghost Pokémon.
The cigarettes wouldn’t help this, they weren’t helping before. Volkner needed something else.
He thought of the solder gun, and how the singe had distracted him from his work. So maybe, he could try something.
Volkner reached towards a drawer under his sink, and pulled it out. There was a shaving kit with fresh blades, staring at him. He gulped, feeling some form of nausea, and told himself this wasn’t it.
’Cigs are one thing, but…self-harm?’
Volkner began to sob, the tears running down his face too much for his liking. The photo of the him with Flint was haunting him, making that burning feeling of guilt run through his head like an inferno.
He wanted it to stop.
Volkner ripped open the kit, letting the blades clank onto the sink. He could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest.
With the right motion, he had the blades taken out of the plastic piece, all by themselves.
Staring back at him, waiting for him to make the move.
Volkner grabbed a blade, and sat on the toilet, trying to find some form of reasoning against what he was wanting to do. Nothing came to mind, and he wanted the tears to just stop. He thought of Flint, and how he had went on to the Elite Four after Volkner became the 8th Gym Leader. He thought of everyone he had stop responding to, and how he had just blocked his best friend with the rest of them.
As if his hands were moving without him, Volkner placed the blade against his skin. He was at the ditch of his arm, trying to at least stay away from the wrist. There was something trying to preserve him…for now.
He was shaking slightly, the feeling of the metal against his skin not right. But it didn’t matter, he didn’t matter.
There was a slice, and the crimson that poured out finally made Volkner feel something other than guilt. Pain. It was searing, but it took all of the other thoughts away. All Volkner could think of was the pain, and watching the blood slowly drip down his forearm.
It quickly became an addiction.
Weeks now passed from the night he started self-harming, and the Gym had caused a blackout. Volkner had went through so many renovations that he hadn’t accounted for the massive energy demand that it had. So when he flipped the switch, the entire city went black.
That, did not go over well with the townsfolk for sure.
Volkner had been lectured for hours about the needs and respect for the city, and eventually the voices became blurry as he dissociated. He felt that fucking guilt again, like a screw-up in every aspect.
In response, He shut the Gym down indefinitely, and put a massive container of Badges at the front door. He didn’t want to do this anymore, the battles were pointless, and boring. Not only that, but he had fucked up the entire city.
That night wasn’t easy, as Volkner found himself with four more fresh wounds on his arm. The cutting was getting out of control, his forearm riddled with the slash marks. Some had healed, but others were still trying to scab over. But every slash had him closer to his wrist, which seemed like a finish line for Volkner now.
He winced at the pain on his arm, but it too was starting to go numb. When would it end? Even slicing up his arm brought no relief to that void as time went on.
Volkner did his typical ritual, letting the blood run down his arm and drip onto the floor. He’d clean it up in the morning, like he always did. His blue eyes followed the stream of blood, and watched as each drop hit the floor.
It should make him sick. It should make him call for help. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t doing anything other than giving him a shortcut to end things. But something inside still was clinging, and he couldn’t quite slit the large vein at the top of his wrist.
He needed a cigarette.
Flint was distraught, to say the least. He could barely focus on his battles, worrying about Volkner. Once he realized the man had blocked him, he knew something was dangerously off.
Volkner had never reached that point.
And to make matters worse, his battles were increasing each day as more and more challengers appeared at his doorstep. The majority of them were far too under-powered to even face Aaron, and they finally had asked what the hell was going on.
Some of the kids fessed up, saying that they had bypassed battling at the Sunyshore Gym because it was shut down. There were free badges at the front, and a sign wishing them luck at the League.
Hearing that had Flint’s blood boiling. Not only was Volkner ignoring him and everyone else, he had just given out badges?
After a meeting with the Elite Four and Cynthia, the Champion, they all agreed to suspend any League battles until the Sunyshore dilemma was solved. They couldn’t have mobs of kids banging on the door, itching for a battle that would have them punted straight back to Sunyshore. After the meeting, Flint had returned to his quarters to prepare for a trip to said city.
“Flint?”
He turned, and Cynthia was at his door. She had a worried face on her, and he knew that she was concerned as well about his friend.
“Yeah?” He answered, packing a few more things into his bag. The group had also decided that they would start with just Flint visiting Volkner, since they had been close.
‘Had been.’ Flint repeated in his mind, pain hitting his heart for a second. Volkner had blocked him after he sent his favorite childhood photo of them, hoping it would have ignited something in him.
Instead, he pushed Flint away, like everyone else he had heard.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing?” Cynthia asked, tilting her head.
“I’m ok for now, but I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know what’s going on.” He said, sighing and zipping up his bag. He holstered all of his team, saving Magmortar for last.
Flint held the ball in his hand, and looked at it fondly. The capsule still had a small etching on it, a terrible attempt at a “V.”
But Flint knew what it was, and that’s what mattered. It had been there the entire time, from when Magmortar was a Magby, and when Volkner had handed him the Pokémon. The young teen Volkner had blushed when he gave the small fire Pokémon to Flint, declaring that the little guy would be in better hands with him.
They trained everyday since then.
“And that’s fine. Maybe he’s just having a rough spell and needs to talk in person.” Cynthia said, also looking at the pokeball that Flint was holding carefully. She looked up and made eye contact with Flint, and he felt like she was piercing through his entire soul.
“You care a lot about him.”
Flint felt his hand shaking, and put Magmortar on his belt before he broke down more.
“I’ll try my best, Cynthia.” Flint said, ignoring her comment. They had just been childhood friends, that’s all. There was nothing else, he repeated to himself.
“Just know that if in two weeks we don’t see any opening, I’ll be forced to intervene. And Volkner may lose his Leader status if he cannot battle anymore.” Cynthia said, sighing at the end.
“I know.”
With the sun setting, Flint threw out his Staraptor, and made his way towards Sunyshore.
It was going to be a long flight.