Ephemeral, was that what they called it?
Something had snapped in him then, telling him that he should probably stop thinking, that it was all futile anyway.
It wasn't supposed to hurt this much
Not even when he had taken an accidental thunderbolt to the face, courtesy of one of the newer Pokémon trainers had it hurt that much. Sure, the hospital had claimed that without the quick action of his Luxray to bring him there he would've been a dead man, he was sure that he could've handled himself give or take.
Then again though… it had never hurt this much before.
"Volkner, earth to Volkner" He hadn't seen her, not in the darkness. He wasn't sure if he wanted to, something that bright should never be darkened.
He turned around to glimpse the girl who'd name he had written twenty times already in the dirty sand underneath. He had even played out an imaginary battle with her, complete with make up kiss after. A happier moment for happier times.
"Candice… it's-it's nice to see you" He wondered how he looked liked, a man awaiting death probably didn't pass her standards.
Yet, she was known to never stick to them anyway.
A shadow passed through her face, but her twin pigtails quickly start dancing again, and all is well.
Bringing out a small container she tears it open to reveal the sweet, sultry smell of fresh peaches. Something thunders within him, but he wasn't sure whether it was a response to her kindness, her beauty or the peaches themselves.
She takes one out and snakes her hand through the bar, her slim wrist managing to break free of the cold steel. It was almost like a gentle caress making him recall gentler memories of another girl, one that had smelled distinctly of olives.
He didn't think of her though, when he took the peach and stuffed it into his mouth, all coolness forgotten in face of what was ravenous hunger. All he could think about the girl in front of him, the one who had brought him his last meal.
They hadn't told him yet, the League not wanting to make a major farce of what was already a huge scandal. Him refusing to admit his guilt only made matters worse. In the end, it was decided that there would be another trial, another round of witnesses blabbering about supposed things and the League representative yet again attempting to bribe him to record a statement.
He had refused him, of course. Volkner wasn't one to take to threats, not even when he had been shown what had happened to those who refused.
It hadn't taken them long though, to find out how to make him say yes.
After he had been placed in this cell, she had come running to tell to him that it was to be okay, that she would keep him safe. It was heartwarming for him, if not slightly ironic to see the girl that he once swore to protect to now say that she was to die protecting him.
He liked that though, even though he had vehemently refused her request when she had said that she would confront the League on her lonesome and expose the truth about the whole incident. That had been one of the clauses they had signed, no one was to ever find about the truth
And in exchange… she would live, and he would die.
It was simple really, he had accepted without a second thought. There wasn't much point to living after all, if they took what kept him going away. And even he wanted to stop them, how could he?
What was he without the strength of his Pokemon, his very friends that were already now long, long gone. The League had seen to that.
And now, they would see to him.
She had taken his hands into hers now, her once confident smile slowly breaking apart. There was the slow drop of her eyebrows, then the sniffing, the agonizingly slow sniffing that soon gave way to tears.
They were separated only by a thin set of metal bars now, their heads as close they would ever be in this lifetime. She was probably still angry at him, wondering why he had signed the statement that would warrant his death.
She would never know, Roark had made sure of that.
If anyone had stepped in to the tiny cell and saw the two of them now, they would've been unrecognizable. The cheery ice-type gym leader crying her heart out and the once impenetrable electric type one not even caring as he squeezed her hand and told her it would be all right.
Everything would be, soon.
"It's time" The two words came from the guards that were outside the cell
She wouldn't let go of him, not even as they grabbed him out of the steel cage and into the passageway. Not even when they pushed her aside, she had just gotten back up and grabbed them again, pleading and pleading for any hope, any chance of a miracle at all.
He wanted one too, he wanted so much to see that face of hers again, not covered by tears but with a smile and leading him again as they danced in the snow.
There would be no snow now, only blood. The steps were already shining as he was dragged, bloody and beaten up the scaffold. Candice had disappeared, flung off by the guards and he could only hope that she was safe. And that she could forgive him for he had done to her.
Even if he didn't want her to, he couldn't deny that he wanted her to know the truth one day. To vindicate him to her.
It was a selfish desire, but he had already accepted that that would always be apart of him, in one way or another.
He felt the noose around his neck, chocking as the hangman tightened it around his neck. Scanning for familiar faces in the crowd, he saw them, huddled in a corner and away from the mass of people
Maylene was gripping the tip of Roark's arm, a pained expression on her Lucario's face as it sensed its master's distress. Roark himself wasn't doing much better, the gym leader's usual expression gone and replaced with a mixture of shock and anger.
Cynthia was absent, having resigned as champion after hearing about what had happened. She was still probably out there, fighting for a postponement, for anything really, but what was done, was done.
He thought he could see Flint in the audience, the red-haired man giving him a thumbs up as the hangman neared the lever. His mouth was opening, but no words came out.
They say that you only see dead people when you were close to death yourself, he was happy that he had proven that, at the very least.
The hangman pulled, and the floorboards underneath him fell. He felt it tighten around his neck, and through his last breath heard her scream, and an endless vacuum screech through the air.
He could see none of this though, as his eyelids shut and he plunged through layers upon layers of darkness. He could feel nothing then, save for the infinite memories of her touch.
Then he was floating upwards, into a horizon that spanned the stars. Then he was home again, forever in her arms.