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We were nine clouds high, then we fall down.
Nowhere to hide, caught in the fallout.
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This, this - this was not what Xavier had asked for. It was the last thing he had wanted, expected, hoped would come out of all of this.
Because, well… he won. He actually won. And wasn’t that supposed to make him happy?
“What an incredible accomplishment! With that, Xavier Rigaud Oshiro is the new Champion of the Pokemon Battle Junior Tournament!”
But he’s not happy. The happy lasted for five minutes, maybe. He could possibly push it to ten. But then the walls came pressing in, everything just grew brighter and brighter and brighter, but he never asked for this spotlight-
“The Kalos Region’s junior trainers receive the ultimate test in this tournament, but Xavier has blown past all the other trainers from the very first match! His performance has been nothing short of exceptional!”
And how would it feel, he had asked himself? To have proven himself by age 10, to have a future to look onto? He asked himself, time and time again. Before every battle. And everytime, he thought he knew the answer.
“Xavier is, by a long shot, one of the most promising trainers we’ve seen in a long time, and I can’t wait to see what kind of trainer he goes on to be!”
He’s never felt more wrong.
“Perhaps he’s destined to be a Gym Leader, or… No, even greater than that! This boy could join the Elite Four!”
Because he thought he’d be happy, his friends would be happy. His Pokemon would be happy. And that from there, the only place to go was up.
But then Xavier learned that the spotlight is not what he ever thought it would be.
Because he’s tired of the photos, he’s tired of the exploitation, the rumors, the way they treat Mystic. He wishes he’d never won, he wishes that Noivern had been even the slightest bit stronger. He wishes for a lot of things, that he’ll never see. But what’s the point of wishing , when it’s all pointless anyways?
“Xavier? Xavier, wait-”
Because in the end, they’re all the same.
“Xavier, there you are! Could we get a photo, or-”
They can’t take no for an answer. They pretend, but Xavier knows. They don’t care about him, or Mystic. They’ll forget about him in a year. But they want him, now - because he’s the subject of every headline. And they think that if they get a photo of him, of Mystic - then it’s them, them on the front page.
“Ugh, this isn’t a good picture. Hey, Xavier, maybe you could make it smile for us-”
And sure, there’s him. That’s one story. But in the end, does he care? Does he care, about him? Does he?
“Leave. Him. Alone.”
He doesn’t. He doesn’t, because he thinks that he can take it. He can get through this, emerge stronger on the other side. But Mystic - Mystic is the last straw. Mystic is his best friend, Mystic is with whom he places all of his trust, his faith. His dream. And Mystic - Mystic helps him hold on. Through everything. And it feels so wrong to let him down.
“Xavier! Seriously, you did so great!”
He has his friends, too. Y. Tierno, Trevor, Shauna. They try - they try to pick him up, off of the ground where he’s crashed. For a moment - a brief, fleeting moment - it works. Then… then it stops. Then it does nothing but make him hurt, more and more. But he can’t say that. He can’t complain, not after he’d worked so hard for this so it’s his fault anyways-
“Xavier? Are you okay?”
They care. He knows that. He should have listened, he should have done something - anything. Anything, to cope with the fact that he was wrong.
I can’t do this anymore.
Because he was wrong. They say - they say that what doesn’t kill you, will only make you stronger on the other side. That’s what he thought, too. But what if… what if it doesn’t? What if you’re already too far broken to save?
“Xavier, listen, please-”
None of this was what he thought it was. What he thought it would be. They hurt Mystic, they’ll hurt his friends, they’ve hurt him-
In the end, he does the only thing he knows how to do. He swallows, he puts his head down. He turns the lock.
“Xavier!”
He’s doing this. He’s doing this to them. They’re hurting, because of him. He knows that. But everything - everything’s so much better this way. The four of them are all left - left to live their own lives. To move on, to be happy. To be the happy he wishes he was. This - this is something he can take. He’s not… he’s not lonely. He doesn’t miss them.
“Seriously, though, how long do you plan on hiding in there-”
And he can’t answer her. He doesn’t know. Nobody - nobody, not even him - expects it to go like this. For them to break him. For him to sit, in a shadow of his own fears and doubt, unable to shake what he knows he’s done. How he knows this is his fault. And how he’s just sick and tired of everything. But it goes, on and on. Slowly, everything seems to turn to black and white. The outside world fades to nothing. It’s just him, his thoughts, the words that seem to drag him down.
And maybe, if he stays like this forever, he wins. They won’t get what they want. He’ll never be who they all wanted him to be. Is that enough? Is that satisfaction, enough to live off of?
It’s not.
It never will be. He’s not stupid, Xavier knows that. And he’ll admit it - he knows. He knows that he’s here, just because he’s afraid. But it’s not like anybody understands, it’s not like they’ll understand all of the weight and the pressure and that under pressure anything can just break-
“Please.”
So he sits. He doesn’t forget. The world outside is a blur - months pass, then seasons. Then years. Xavier just sits, his friends go on. He hopes they’ll be happy one day. And maybe, maybe - he really only has one last thing he wants to say to her.
“I’m sorry.”