A/N: If you're wondering about the POV, I got the idea from reading a bunch of non-fictions. Not sure what it's formally called but I think of it as the 'detached omnipotent' view. It gives the whole piece a very depressing atmosphere. Then again, the topic is a bit dark too. In any case, it's somewhat experimental.
Also, I don't own Pokemon.
Sometimes Silver thought about how messed up his life was.
He thought about it Wednesday night, during his shift as a washer in the café. He dropped a dish. The loud shatter made half of the customers look up from their plates, while the staff continued on with shards crunching under their feet. After the shift, his manager fired him.
He also thought about it the day before, while he was arguing with Gold. Silver stumbled into one of Gold's art projects and accidentally broke a crayon. Silver's tongue slipped; their bickering eventually escalated into a loud argument. After a few minutes of fighting, he proceeded to break all of the crayons. When Gold started crying Silver left the room.
Silver leaned on the balcony of his dirty studio in Nimbasa. From twenty stories up, the traffic on the street looked like a line of ants. He didn't know why he did all of that—the dish, the arguing, the crayons, the leaving. Thinking about it, Silver didn't know why he smoked either.
He took a drag and stopped thinking.
Scene 1
"Do you want to talk?" Blue peeped up from her paper.
The girl lying on the sofa sighed. "The way you say that—it's like you're forcing me to talk."
"No need. Some people just sit here for half an hour."
"Sit here and do what?"
"Sit. Just sit."
The girl lying on the sofa sighed.
Cars started beeping outside the window. Businessmen going to work were driving to their offices across the main street. The slow build up from minutes ago created a din of tired workers eager to get going. Blue's office wasn't high enough to avoid the noise.
Blue looked up again as the girl stood back up. "I'm sorry, I don't think this will work … I'm sorry … I have classes to get to." She bowed and briskly went to the doorway.
Before the girl left, Blue swiveled her chair to catch her eyes. They looked at each other for a few seconds.
"I'm here if you need me."
The girl looked away. "Thank you." She exited.
Blue waited a little. Then she swiveled back and scribbled on a sticky note.
Anonymous: Blue-Eyed Student
Notes: Post-Adolescent Crisis; Worried
She tapped her desk with a pen and nodded.
The door opened again. Blue quickly swiveled back. A man with red hair silently stared at her.
"Silver!" She rushed out to hug him. He let her.
"I'm just here to return something." He handed her a blank check. It was signed out to Silver.
"But Silver-"
"No, no 'but's."
"-how are you going to live?"
"I'll get another job."
"A ninth one?" Blue struggled.
"I'll figure it out."
"Oh, Silver." She held him tighter. "Oh, Silver."
"Please don't. I've had enough of it."
"Why do you do this? Can't you listen to me?"
"No, I can't."
"Why? Just tell me."
"Blue, shut up. I hate therapists."
She held her tongue.
The room darkened as a cloud passed by. It was a standard cumulus cloud on a regular day. Children in a nearby park rested and guessed at whether the cloud looked like a Lickitung or a Dunsparce. And their parents sat on the bench closest to them, smiling. And a couple secluded under a weeping willow were too busy to notice. And slowly, the cloud passed by.
The room was empty except for Blue. She hung her head down over her desk, despondent. The check lied scattered in pieces in the trashcan.
It was noon. Carefully, she got up and gathered her belongings. Noticing the sticky note she wrote on earlier for the girl, Blue got up and put it on her white board. It was placed in between one about a death and one about a pyromaniac. There were only a few empty spots left on the large white board. Eventually though, older ones would peel off and free some more space.
The room was empty. Outside the building, Silver thought about how messed up his life was.
He thought about it when he was exiting the building, as he passed by the girl. She smiled meekly at him. Silver made a nod. Then continued.
He thought about it when walking across the street, noticing Blue in one of the car windows. Blue smiling at him and then recoiling in horror.
He thought about it when the bloodied drunk crawled of his crashed truck and asked Silver if he wanted to go out for a drink.
He thought about it once it settled into his mind. Once it settled into his mind that the car didn't hit him. It swerved, seeing the redhead on the crosswalk, and instead aimed for a passing car. He held his breath.
The cashier gave Silver his change. Outside, people were standing, gawking around the crash, the ambulance still many blocks away trying to weave its way through. With the dying flame of the accident, he lit his cigarette.
He took a drag and stopped thinking.
A/N: That was satisfying, the end part. I summed up the main problem and we can already start seeing this smoking motif. Poor Silver.
And yes, you didn't have to read the intro. It's mainly to make sure everyone gets he's the main character.
That's all. If you have a very important question about the situation, just leave it in the review. When-or rather if-I continue this, I'll try and bring them up.