Once the blackout was fixed, Flint had talked a promising young trainer into challenging – and subsequently defeating – Volkner, and for a while, things seemed to improve. His love for battling apparently returned, though he was swift as ever to express disappointment in the numerous weak challengers at his gym, but by all accounts he seemed to be on the up.
Or, at least, that's how he appeared in public. What nobody else knew was that this basic day-to-day functioning took every ounce of his strength and left him nothing for when he was alone, so it was only a matter of time before something shattered the fragile porcelain mask he'd so carefully crafted.
It started with an utterly inconsequential mistake – a dropped plate – and a single word, stupid, casually leveled at himself just as it had been a hundred million times before. But once the self-hatred spiral started, it could not be stopped, and now he was sitting on the floor in his kitchen, next to a broken plate, staring despondently at the rug.
Like the pathetic loser I am, he thought. Can't do anything right. He was worthless, a burden to everyone around him. After the blackout he'd caused, he was pretty sure every soul in Sunyshore hated his guts. The only things around that actually liked him were his Pokémon, and that was only because they were too pure-hearted to know any better. Even Flint was probably only his friend out of pity. After all, look how much better he was; he got into the Elite Four and everything. Not a miserable, weak failure like me.
He did not consider the contradiction, thinking himself weak while being frustrated by a lack of challenging opponents. Depression was not beholden to such things as logic and reason; it brushed away all accomplishments, no matter how great, and shone light on every failure, no matter how small. Being the strongest gym leader did not matter; he wasn't good enough to get into the Elite Four like Flint.
He had no idea how much time passed. He didn't care. Eventually he heard a knock at the door, and did not respond. He didn't have the will or energy to respond. He just felt so drained and empty and dead inside. The knock came again, followed by a familiar voice.
"Volkner? Come on, man, the lights are on, I know you're home."
The blond managed to muster just enough energy to let out a huff of bitter amusement. Of course it would be Flint. He still could not bring himself to form words, let alone get up and open the door. Maybe if he just sat motionless, Flint would realize what a waste of time this was – what a waste of time he was – and go away to do something actually important.
More knocking. Volkner finally summoned enough strength to speak. "Door's unlocked," he said, just barely loud enough to be heard.
He heard Flint come in, and moments later there he was. His ash-gray gaze fell first on the man sitting on the floor, then on the broken plate next to him.
"Volk? What happened?"
"What are you doing here, Flint?" he asked flatly, not looking away from the floor. Before the redhead could answer, he continued. "Here to make sure I don't knock out the power again? That I'm actually awarding badges? Don't bother. I should probably just resign as gym leader, anyway."
There was a brief silence as Flint stared in bewilderment. "What are you talking about, Volkner?"
The Elite Four member kept his eyes on his friend even as he carefully picked up the shards of the shattered plate and put them in the trash. Can't even clean up my own messes, Volkner thought. Always need Flint to fix everything for me.
"I just cause problems for everybody else," he said, shifting position to pull his knees up against his chest, his arms crossed loosely atop them. "I just cause problems for you."
"Stop it," Flint said, sitting down next to him. "Nobody gets to talk about my best friend like that."
Volkner didn't reply. He felt like Flint should be mad at him, and the fact that he wasn't just made him feel even worse. Why can't he understand what a failure I am?
There was a pause, and then Flint sighed. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes," he said. "Sure you have your flaws, but you've got so many good qualities, too."
Volkner scoffed. "Good qualities," he repeated bitterly.
Flint gently put a hand on his shoulder. "Sure. You're the strongest person I know, for one thing."
The gym leader looked at him skeptically, and his voice practically dripped with venom as he said, "That so, Mr. Elite Four?"
Flint did not break eye contact. He only tipped his head slightly to the side and said, "I didn't mean as a trainer."
"Oh," was all Volkner could manage to say. He was caught so off-guard that all he could do was look away, a hint of a self-conscious blush coloring his cheeks. "Thanks-"
The redhead heard the 'but' coming, and kept talking before Volkner could find a way to rationalize the praise away. "I know you're struggling right now, but that doesn't mean you're weak. What's that saying, 'breaking down means you have been strong for far too long'? You've been through a lot of rough times, Volk, and you'll get through this one too. That's always been one of the things I've admired most about you: no matter how many times I've seen life beat you down, you always get right back up, wipe the blood off your face, and put up your fists for round two! Me, I just burn right down to cinders. But you? You rise from your own ashes. You're… Well, you're inspiring, to be honest."
The blond was too choked up to respond, one hand over his mouth and his eyes squeezed shut as he tried not to cry. Flint reached out to hold his other hand comfortingly, and Volkner gripped it so tightly that small beads of blood started to well up where his nails were digging into Flint's hand, but despite the pain he didn't pull away.
Eventually, Volkner steadied himself, opened his eyes, and released his death grip on his friend's hand. "Thank you," he said again, and let out a shaky sigh. "I don't deserve you, Flint. You're a better friend than anybody could ever ask for."
The Elite Four member grinned. "Tauros shit, of course you deserve me. Who else would bail me out when I get up to my neck in trouble, and laugh at my bad puns, and put up with all my dumb ideas?"
Volkner laughed weakly, in spite of himself. His eyes were downcast, his lashes lowered, but there was at least a smile on his lips again. "You're my ground wire," he said softly.
Flint smiled apologetically, not understanding what he meant. "I know that's an important bit, but I don't know what it does."
"A ground wire safely vents extra charge out of the system in the event of a short circuit or an overload. Technically the device will function without one under normal circumstances, but when something goes wrong, it's the ground wire that keeps people from getting hurt."
"Yeah, that sounds about right," Flint said. He reached for a pokéball. "But I think right now you could use a battle to put some charge back into your system, yeah?"
Volkner chuckled. "Yeah, probably."
As they battled, though, Flint had to wonder: was he really the ground wire, if the device could still function without one?