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Distant shrieks of Seagull and the repetitive lull of the sea was all that permeated the silence. Late evening in Sunnyshore was always heavy, even in winter when the air grew drier and the sky was rarely seen in all its glory. Stargazing was impossible unless you went out to Route 222.
It wasn’t like he could leave the city this late at night. He shouldn’t have even been outside. If father found out...
He tried not to think about it.
Cyrus just focused on the sound of the waves, watching for any signs of Pokémon beneath the surface. The docks were old, no one would think twice if some kid fell in while playing around where he shouldn’t be.
He’d debated it a few times. It wouldn’t be too hard; the currents were brutal, and he wasn’t a strong swimmer. But he stayed put, going no further than dipping his toe in.
Sometimes he wished he had jumped.
The first week in the hospital was a blur. Any time he was awake, everything was so harsh and unbearable that the staff would increase his dosage until he went out again.
On rare occasion, Cynthia would be there when he woke up. She helped him breath, to steady himself in consciousness. It would never last long. Something would set him off again and she would have no choice but to call in the doctors.
He was never aware of what he was saying in those times. He rambled and babbled in a manner unbefitting of a man who convinced hundred to follow his every order. Disgust and humiliation pooled in his gut when Cynthia looked over him with pity.
He wasn’t sure when things started becoming more solid, but it must’ve had something to do with Cynthia increasing her visits. It was the only explanation he could provide.
One day, he finally woke up without the hefty nausea and migraine that had become commonplace over his time in the too white room. The scent of stale air and disinfectant was displeasing, but not overwhelming.
The bed complained as he pushed himself up, too fast, made his head swim for a few long seconds. Cynthia almost fell out of her seat, her Holo Caster barely being saved from the unsympathetic, hard floor.
“Cyrus, are you with me?” she asked, her voice oddly soft for a woman of her status.
All he could do was nod as she helped him adjust the bed so he could sit up properly. Cynthia’s expression was indiscernible.
“How much do you remember from the last few days?”
He shook his head. Cynthia sighed.
“You’re in Veilstone. Barry found you and Dawn in Turnback Cave.”
At the mention of the girl’s name, his eyes went wild and muscles tensed. “Where is-”
Soothing hands rested on his. “She’s fine. Dawn has a different room and Barry’s been taking care of her. I promise you she’s fine.”
Cyrus felt the pressure melt from his form. “That... that is good.”
“Not like you to be so worried about someone.” Cynthia’s tone was ice, her gaze hard.
He couldn’t meet her eyes. Why did the air feel so close all of a sudden? His breathing was getting uneven and his chest ached.
Cynthia was still talking but he’d stopped processing her words. It was only when she stopped that he realised he was shaking. How did that happen?
A shape descended on him and for a moment he was back in the other world. He tried to push back but it caught him and pulled him in. He thrashed, about to cry out when Cynthia’s voice brought him back down.
“It’s okay,” She said as she wrapped him in a hug, “You’re gonna be okay, Cyrus.”
When did he start crying?
Without Cynthia, his time in the pure white room would’ve destroyed him, that much he was certain of.
In the few hours a week she managed to steal between her Champion duties, she managed to keep him updated on the outside world and, more importantly, Dawn’s condition.
“Will they seriously not tell you anything?” She asked.
He shook his head, trying to adjust himself to allow Weavile to curl up on his lap. It hadn’t taken much for the hospital staff to allow him to keep his Pokémon, anything to stop him shooting awake in hysterical panic at two am was welcomed.
“Assholes...” Cynthia muttered, folding her arms across her chest.
Weavile chirped, nuzzling further into his trainer’s lap. Cynthia chuckled.
“Whenever I tried to feed them,” she started, reaching out to pet the Pokémon’s head, “they would get all pouty and stubborn until I told them you were okay.”
Cyrus blinked. “Really?”
That took her by surprise, needing a second to recover. “Of course! Pokémon always care, even if they’re trainer...”
She trailed off, but he could guess what she was going to say. Cyrus gave Weavile a small scratch behind it’s crown.
“I do not... understand...”
Cynthia sighed. “Well, you never beat them up or anything. I think they were just worried about you...”
Cyrus looked down to the snoozing Pokémon and felt his chest ache. Not in the suffocating way he was used to but... soft and warm.
He never wanted it to go.
The worst part of the hospital was the boredom. Unless Cynthia brought something in, there was little he could do to pass the time.
He’d stopped keeping track of days. Didn’t see the point. If anything of note happened, it would make its way to him eventually.
Any attempts made by the resident psychiatrists to get him to open up rarely ended well. They would try their best to tread around the most sensitive areas, but something would always manage to set him off.
He was thoroughly convinced they had given up on him.
The window was easy enough to open, a simple latch, then it slid upwards. It was a three-storey fall, but it didn’t bother him as much as it should’ve.
“If you wanted fresh air that bad, I might be able to convince them to let us in the courtyard.”
The soft voice behind him wasn’t Cynthia.
Weavile hopped off the bed, claws clicking across the floor as it ran over to greet the visitor.
Dawn crouched to offer pets. “Hey, wanna see what I got?” she asked the Pokémon. He chirped, pawing at her sleeve as she reached into the paper bag and took out a poffin. Weavile excitedly scoffed it down before she could say anything.
She laughed, straightening up as she crossed the room. “Want one? Lucas made them.”
Cyrus shook his head. She shrugged.
“More for me and Weavile,” she said as she offered another to the weasel Pokémon.
“Are you even allowed to be here?” Cyrus asked slowly. Dawn grinned.
“Shush, I snuck out. Couldn’t stand being in that room any longer so I asked Cynthia which room was your’s.”
Silence hung between them for a few moments before she started playing with her hair.
“Okay, I lied, Cynthia said you were feeling more down than usual so I wanted to keep you company for a while.”
Cyrus realised how hard he’d been gripping the windowsill and flinched slightly as he loosened his hands. Dawn frowned, but said nothing.
“What were you thinking?” She asked quietly, testing the waters. There was no point in trying to lie to her, she could always tell.
“Would this height be enough to end your life?”
Dawn was not nearly as disturbed than he expected her to be.
“I don’t think so, but you’d really hurt your legs. Not worth it unless you’re really desperate to stay here any longer.”
“I would prefer not to.”
She gave a gentle laugh. “I can’t wait to eat real food again,” she said as she crouched to shower Weavile with affection, “Remind me to show you this café in Eterna when we get out, I think you’ll like it.”
There was that warm ache in his chest again. He found himself smiling for the first time in years.
In retrospect, he supposed he should have made more of an effort to resume contact with Team Galactic... Or what was left of it. Cynthia and Rowan had told him that the organisation almost fell apart before the old commanders turned it into an energy company.
He wasn’t surprised to hear Saturn was leading the new Galactic. The young man had a knack for the humanitarian side of business. What he was surprised about, however, was how fast he’d been able to flip the image of Team Galactic into something the people of Sinnoh would be willing to trust.
“Devon helped them a lot, gave them a chance and they proved themselves to be valuable business partners,” Rowan had explained when Cyrus had brought it up, “there were rumours that the Hoenn Champion had arranged for it, but that has yet to be proved.”
Outside of the occasional worker passing on the street, he was unable to experience anything from the new Galactic first hand. Apparently Saturn had sent Dawn some flowers. She mentioned that they looked expensive but said nothing more on the topic.
Some part of him felt betrayed, but he quickly quelled the foolish notion. It wasn’t like they owed him anything.
Which was why he was even more confused with Saturn showed up unannounced. He hovered in the doorway and likely wouldn’t have ever entered if Cynthia hadn’t been there to shove him in.
After initially sweeping the room for an escape route, Saturn finally sighed and settled into a seat.
“There’s... no way to make this not awkward.”
Cyrus just hummed.
“You’re not making this any easier.”
“It was not my intention.”
Saturn scowled, letting out a huff. He started bouncing his knee.
After an eternity, he finally asked, “Can I punch you in the face?”
The sheer absurdity of the question caught him off guard. “I... Excuse me?”
Saturn cleared his throat and sat up straight. “Never mind, that was completely out of order-”
“If it makes you feel better.”
“What?”
“You can punch me in the face.”
For a long moment, Cyrus was certain that he had broken him. Saturn finally seemed to process the words and nodded slowly.
“Okay, right...”
Saturn flexed his fingers for a moment before curling one hand into a fist. Cyrus didn’t even see him wind back. Pain exploded in his jaw, instinctively reaching up to check for any serious damage.
“Good swing...” he muttered.
“Huh? Oh, thanks...” Saturn looked down at his hand and frowned. “I, urh... I’m sorry.”
Cyrus just shrugged. “It is the least I deserve.”
Words seemed to fail Saturn for the briefest of moments. “I mean... Yeah, honestly.” He let out a shaky laugh.
And they went quiet again. While the silence would’ve been simpler, Cyrus felt as though Saturn would faint if it lasted any longer.
“I... I am sorry,” he said, the words feeling alien on his tongue, “for everything. I am aware that a mere apology is not enough to excuse all that I have done, but it is all I can offer you for the time being.”
Saturn stared at him as if he’d grown three heads. Then he started laughing. Cyrus failed to find the humour.
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just...” Saturn’s eyes started to grow puffy, his breathing hitching in his throat. “I never thought I’d...”
The words melted away as the young man fought back against his emotions.
Acting completely on instinct, Cyrus reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s... It’s okay, you’ll be okay.”
Saturn blinked once, twice, then burst into full, ugly sobbing.
“This-” he hiccupped, “this is so unprofessional.”
“As you said, there is no way to make this... ‘not awkward.’”
Saturn hugged him. No hesitation, no second thoughts, just went straight for it. It felt... strange. More because it was unfamiliar than uncomfortable. Cyrus hummed, stiffly moving his arms to pat his back.
“Is... Is this just something people do for no reason?”
A dry laugh came from Saturn, though he didn’t look up. “Pretty much.”
“I see... This will take some getting used to.”