Clinging to Nothingness

It was nice outside, one of those days where the weather makes you think everything is perfect. For Dave, though, nothing could be further from the truth.

The Prinplup was on his desk, a piece of paper in front of him and a quill on his flipper. He still hadn’t written anything, simply trying to organize his thoughts before putting them into words. But after noticing how much he was hesitating, he shook his head and began.

“Hello Tyson. It’s me, Dave.

I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since… Well, since you left. I’ve been trying hard to move on and find where I belong but, without you, it’s an impossible task.

To be quite honest, I don’t really know why I’m writing this. I know you’re not here anymore. I know you’re not going to read this, and I know you’re not going to respond. I guess I just need an excuse to finally express myself somehow.”

Dave took a deep breath as he remembered the pain Tyson left when he disappeared. It wasn’t his fault, yet he’s the only Pokémon Dave could blame.

“When you vanished, I didn’t know what to do. I stayed months without getting out of bed. Some of the other teams visited me sometimes to make sure I ate or kept myself clean, even if they often had to force me.

I kept hoping that somehow you would return, which we know wouldn’t happen. The only other alternative was to pray that I would forget you, or at least adapt to living without you by my side.

It didn’t happen.”

Dave’s flipper trembled, he knew what he wanted to write next, but it hurt thinking about it. That moment still triggered some nightmares in him, but he needed to process those feelings, and what better way than writing about it.

“Around two months ago, I… I attempted to take my life. I was so desperate to get rid of the sadness that I thought death would be an easier solution.
I had a bag full of Blast Seeds, ready to slam on my feet. I had been saving them for a long time, we’re talking about fifty of them. 

But I was too slow, Team Protector visited just as I was about to do it.
They saw it all and rushed to stop me, making sure I was okay. I never cried as much as that day once I realized what I almost did.

You remember Team Protector, right? That Buizel with his sister, the Ivysaur. They’re the ones that have checked on me the most. I enjoyed it while they were here, but I couldn’t stop feeling like I was nothing more than a nuisance to them, yet another thing they had to care for.”

Dave smiled softly. Team Protector was the team that pretty much grew up with his. It was always the four of them, they even thought about merging teams before Tyson left.

“Tyson, if you somehow manage to read this, I just want to let you know that I miss you. A lot. You’ve always been the one to make me smile. I guess that’s why I wasn’t that shocked when you asked me out.

The point is, I’ve seen you grow. Ever since you were a Tepig until you evolved with me into a Pignite. And if there’s one thing I know about you is that you will never stop being the kindest soul I’ve ever met.

I don’t know where you are, or if you’re even alive. But regardless, I hope you remember me as much as I remember you.

Signed, Dave.”

Dave left the quill resting on the desk. He took a last look at the letter, trying not to dampen it with the tears that were threatening to come out.

With a sigh, he put it inside an envelope and gave it to the nearest Pelipper he could find.
When asked who it was for, Dave simply said “Tyson, the Pignite”.
Dave knew the chances of the letter finding its way to Tyson were incredibly slim, but the letter was more for himself. He needed to vent, to explain his feelings somehow, to have a final conversation with the one he loved, even if there was no response.

And if the Pelipper didn’t find him, that letter could be thrown away.

Some days passed. It was hard for Dave to keep track of time, not like he was doing anything important aside from grieving.

What he wasn’t expecting was to find a note under the door. He took it and began to read.

“I will be back.
I promise.

-Tyson”

Dave obviously thought at first that this was a joke in bad taste. That is, until he looked at the cloth attached to the lower part of the paper.

A bandana, the same turquoise tone as his own, and branded with the exact same icon: A drawing of a falling leaf.

Dave slowly grabbed it, still in denial, but shaking at the possibility nonetheless.

Behind the bandana, there was some more text.

“I’m not leaving Team Prosperity,
and I am not leaving you.”

And that’s when the tears started to fall. But this time, they weren’t of sadness.