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The crisp dampness of the rain hung in the evening air. A passing car picked up a wave of water and carried it over the curb. Lysandre jumped back, feeling the chill permeate his boots and the cuffs of his trousers. He watched the taxicab speed away.
It occurred to him that he did not react. Although his clothes were soaking wet, he felt nothing. No anger nor annoyance, only a disappointed acceptance of his situation. He wondered what the old Lysandre would have done. Would his curses cut through the still of the night? Would he have chased down the cab and demanded that the driver pay damages? Would he have threatened him? Added this inconvenience to his long list of reasons of why the world should be destroyed?
Lysandre looked over at the plaque on the wall across from him. The street names, the steps he trod, and the sights and sounds of the city were easy to navigate, but he could not recall living them. The memories of the Lumiose he knew eluded him. It was like a fog enveloped his mind and unlike the rain that was beginning to die down, it would not clear.
He crossed at the intersection and turned right. Past the uniform exteriors of the offices and stores that lined South Boulevard, a large mansion caught his eye. Built in the style of a bygone era, it had a modern touch with its motif of pokeballs. The blend of old and new intrigued Lysandre and he paused to admire The Pokemon Research Lab.
The doors opened. A man carrying a box walked out. The ends of his labcoat fluttered as he took slow steps towards the car parked in front of the building. He paused halfway and sent the building a wistful glance.
The light from the streetlamps softened the man’s face. Its glow highlighted the jut of his cheeks, cast a sparkle in his deep blue eyes, and lit the edges of dark brown curls on the top of his head in an angelic glow. Familiarity stirred inside Lysandre. As he kept on watching him, hazy memories flashed in his head.
He was overcome by a peaceful sensation; a warmth that he associated with savoring a hot cup of coffee on a cold day. The man in Lysandre’s memories beamed over at him again and again, and his sweet laughter tickled his ears. Snippets of conversation skipped about. Lysandre’s hand curled as he recalled the feel of the man’s hand reaching across the table to rest on his’. His lips tingled with countless kisses; some sweet, others searing. He saw bright sunlight streaming through the trees, and the twinkling lights at night that illuminated the entire city.
But just as the fog began to lift, a desperate shout rang.
“Lysandre, I’m begging you. Stop, you can’t do this!”
The projection on the holocaster sharpened. Augustine Sycamore’s image clasped his hands together.
“There is so much good in this world even if you don’t believe it! What about the innocent people, pokemon, who will get caught in the middle? Are they worth it to throw their futures away? What about us? We promised that we’d be there for each other no matter what. You told me you loved me!”
He did not respond. Augustine drew a shaky breath.
“Am I not good enough to be worth saving Lysandre?”
His image flickered as Lysandre pushed the end button. His cries echoed long after the call disconnected.
The chill of passing breeze intensified Lysandre’s guilt. It was another sin out of many he committed, and Augustine was one more person on the list of those he had hurt.
As he started to walk away, he heard a thud, followed by a shout.
“Lysandre!”
Augustine came to a halt in. Lysandre noticed that his body stiffened as he took in the Ultimate Weapon’s damage. A mixture of anguish, disbelief, and sorrow bubbled in his eyes.
“Lysandre.”
Augustine reached out. His hand, curved as if to cup Lysandre cheek, dropped back down. He recoiled as he felt Lysandre’s blank expression on him.
“I thought you were dead,” he whispered.
Lysandre racked his mind over what to say. They had parted on bad terms, yet it seemed that Augustine still had some affection for him. He was not sure what the old Lysandre would do, but he knew he had to be careful treading these dangerous waters.
“It is good to see you too, Augustine. It’s been a long three years,” he responded in a polite, but distant tone.
Tears welled in Augustine’s eyes. His lip trembled as he brought his arm back to his side.
“Even though you cut me out at the end, I never stopped loving you Lysandre. After Geosenge, and when it all came out what you had done, I felt like I was the only one who mourned you. I blamed myself—”
“I was the only one to blame for anything. Not you,” Lysandre said.
There was a part of Lysandre that wanted to let Augustine know that he was moved by his words. He longed to pull him into an embrace and kiss away his tears. But the Lysandre that Augustine had known was gone. They both stood face to face with a stranger.
He looked past Augustine over at the box on the ground.
“You dropped that box.”
Augustine turned around. He glanced over at the box and sighed.
“At least there’s nothing fragile in there.”
Lysandre kept his distance as Augustine went back to retrieve the box. He returned.
“Are you cleaning out the lab?” Lysandre asked.
Augustine shook his head, saddened.
“I resigned.”
“Why?” This took Lysandre by surprise.
“Because I tried to convince everyone that you weren’t in your right mind.”
The guilt nipped at Lysandre. It broke through his stoic façade, threatening to bring tears to the surface.
Augustine continued to speak.
“I never stopped believing in the goodness inside of you Lysandre. Everyone else thinks you’re a madman but they don’t know the real you like I do.”
Augustine’s gaze went back down at the box. His eyes closed and his voice wavered.
“You were good enough for me Lysandre; the passionate, sensitive man who thought there was beauty in everything, even the ordinary. The man who never failed to sweep me off my feet. In another life, we could have been happy. But we can’t change the past no matter how much we want to.”
Lysandre’s hands shot out. He placed his hands on the sides of the box in Augustine’s arms.
“I am sorry,” he whispered softly.
Augustine began to sob. His head bobbed as he tried to glance up.
Lysandre tightened his grip on the box. He forced himself to look directly at Augustine.
“You were good enough for me too. I was just a fool not to realize it then.”
He was met with Augustine’s red, puffy eyes. Tears glistened on his cheeks. His lip quivered as he tried to speak.
Lysandre raised a hand. He gingerly placed it on the side of Augustine’s face. He felt Augustine lean into the touch like he had done countless times before.
“The future is bright for you Augustine. You have your whole life ahead of you. Spend it with someone who will love you better than I ever did.”
Lysandre’s pointer finger pushed up. He wiped away a tear with his knuckle.
“Take care mon cher.”
He let go, feeling Augustine’s piercing gaze follow his movements. The sound of Augustine’s sobs echoed in his ears and an icy chill scraped at his skin.
He retreated into a maze of backstreets where he wandered about until he reached a dead end. Anger ignited like a flame and his arm swung to meet the wall in a punch. Then another. And another. Until blood dotted the wall.
Paralyzed in place, Lysandre felt the temperature around him drop. His hand throbbed with a numb pain and drops of blood coursed over his fingers to rain on the ground. And as he tried to grapple with the anger that had overcome him, his guilt over leaving the only person who had ever loved him came to the forefront.
Hot tears fell, Augustine’s face flashed before him, and Lysandre sunk down with an agonized cry.