note: i wrote this based on an au of sorts revolving around a school in the unova region. this characterization of grimsley is based off an rp i did of him on tumblr for a group called fp. so the mentions of events that happened before are from that. and then everything else is just from my headcanons and stuff, etc. etc. but this could be considered a standalone piece, you don't need to know anything before hand so ya. enjoy!
disclaimer: i do not own pokemon.
It had been just another day.
He'd woken up at half past three, had a few bites of cereal before going out on his balcony to have a smoke, then came back to find the cereal had gone soggy. He'd set the bowl down for purrloin to have and had then proceeded to get ready for the day… Which didn't entail much.
At some point, he'd stopped showing up to the League to face challengers, and so, he'd been stripped of his title. Of course, with the amount of money he had made, he didn't need to find a new job. So, he spent the majority of his time around his apartment: drinking, smoking, watching movies, anything to while the days away. Despite the tattoo on his wrist — a reminder to himself to live life to the fullest — he could no longer consider what he was doing living.
If someone could see him right now, they'd know right away that something was wrong; his skin had lost it's beautiful ivory color, instead taking on a sickly pallor, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't exactly been bathing as regularly as he should have been, lounging around in the same clothes he wore the day before and the day before that. His chin was prickly and unshaven. His hair lay flat and no longer had it's sheen. If anyone saw him right now, they'd see that he was a mess.
Of course, that was the problem. No one had seen him in quite some time.
It'd been a year and a half since he'd arrived home from his little adventure around the world and been suddenly dragged off to some wedding reception.
It'd been thirteen months since he'd started declining invitations to hang out.
It'd been eleven months since he'd started smoking regularly and no longer as just a "every now and then" thing.
It'd been seven months since he'd lost his status as one of the Elite Four.
It'd been five months since his phone had rang last (the last time someone had called wondering about his well-being).
It'd been three weeks since he'd last left his apartment.
Grimsley had successfully closed himself off from the world. For what reason, he didn't even know. These days, he just lived in his own little dark cloud, going through the motions. His pokemon noticed this behavior, of course. They did anything they could to get a reaction out of him, to get him to do things. But lately, even purrloin's mewls weren't working.
Sat on the sofa in stale clothes, purrloin's head in his lap and liepard curled at his feet, bloodshot eyes fixed on the screen for hours on end. He had become lifeless.
That was what his days had become. And today had seemed like just another day.
But then the clock had struck twelve and, like clockwork, he'd risen from his seat and padded out softly to the balcony for a smoke, his pokemon trailing behind him. He'd drawn out his pack of cigarettes and reached for one, only to find, it was empty.
He shivered, for the night air was cool against his skin and he could feel the cold seeping into his bones, sapping what little strength he had from him. His thin (almost too thin) frame stood out against the night sky as he looked out at the city from atop the tallest building. The shirt he wore hung loosely on him, showcasing his collarbone, which had become more defined. The pants he had put on had to be kept in place with a belt he'd originally never had a need for. Looking in the mirror earlier after taking a shower, he was vaguely reminded of his childhood and how sickly he'd been. He saw that very same boy looking back at him.
Of course, he was sick. He wasn't stupid, he knew that much. Along with his deteriorating heart, his habits of smoking and drinking were finally catching up to him. It was just like that time when he was young, but there was no daddy to buy him a new heart this time. He didn't want to go through that again, anyway. He was tired.
He was just so tired…
Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply. The city was still awake at night and he could hear it all: cars, people, pokemon. It sounded nice, he thought. It sounded like home. The corner of his mouth curved up slightly at that thought. This was, and always would be, his home.
Absentmindedly, he tugged at the collar of his shirt to try and protect from the cold, for he wore no scarf tonight.
Tonight… ya, tonight is a good night to be alive. That thought coursed through his head as he nodded and looked out before him at the city. He smiled that small smile of his. Then, he took a step forward into the air. And fell.