fictober 02: you have no proof.
donovan took the corner hard, not caring about the person he nearly crashed into. his heart pounded in his chest, and his breath felt as if it was coming too quickly to catch, but he didn’t stop for a moment to pull air into his heaving lungs. he knew the path by heart- vernal avenue was directly across from sycamore labs, and at the lumiose tower it was a left and then halfway around the circle to magenta plaza. the small alley that connected the plaza to autumnal avenue was the deep red café that donovan had spent a good portion of the past two and a half years at.
“donovan- wait.”
donovan stopped and turned to look at the pokemon professor, who held an unusually serious expression on his face- a grim one, even.
“yes, professor?”
“you saw the news, yes? on the holo caster..?”
donovan shook his head, as if trying to get rid of the conversation. he stumbled to a halt at the mouth of the alleyway where lysandre café was, gasping for air.
“you- you’re joking, right? professor, this.. isn’t funny. you know i look up to him and-”
“donovan, he broadcasted it to everyone on their holocasters,” the tall man crouched down and placed a hand on donovan’s shoulder, “he.. he is serious about this.”
donovan shook the professor off, backing away, desperately searching professor sycamore’s face for a proof that this was a joke taken too far- a joke that everyone in the region was in on. everyone but him. everything was screaming at him to ignore the professor- lysandre had never been anything but kind to him- patient with his questions and nervousness, supportive where his mother had been absent.
‘but so has professor sycamore,’ argued a rogue part of his brain, ‘he took you on as a research student, as an extra trainer- you’ve lived here at the lab for the past two years. why would he lie to you about something so serious?’
unable to answer the question, donovan turned and fled, the frantic calling of his name drowned out by the pounding of shoes on pavement.
donovan approached the café, unusually silent for this time of day. the door was wide open, and the counter that was usually staffed with familiar faces that would have greeted him with a cheery offer of his favorite drink was empty. a quick once-over of the café room sent his stomach sinking like a steelix in a swimming pool, and donovan gripped the strap of his bag.
directly across from the entrance, where a china cabinet once stood, was a wide entrance that led deep into a complex that belonged in a villain’s lair- not a café. donovan stood there for seconds, minutes- maybe even hours, just staring into the hidden doorway. it wasn’t until a hand cautiously rested on his shoulder that he moved and stared into the sorrowful eyes of professor sycamore.
“th-that’s just.. it’s a..” donovan tried, hating the way his voice wobbled, the way his eyes began to water. surely it was just a basement, or a staff room. sycamore dropped to his knees and pulled donovan close, and he felt the first few tears make their way down his cheeks.
“you- there’s no proof- you have no proof,” donovan tried again, desperate for this to have been a terrible joke, but as the professor sat back on his heels with his own eyes red and shiny with unshed tears, donovan knew.
he broke then, launching himself into the professors’ arms, wailing with all the force he had, and the professor simply held him, and silently shed his own tears. alone in an abandoned red café, the two wept.
silent tears shed for the friend he’d lost- whether he’d lost him today or years ago, he wasn’t sure. loud wailing for the father figure he thought he’d had- for the possibility that all the support and encouragement had been for naught, that all the advice given was in attempt to lure him to support the man when he finally revealed his awful plan.