Hopelessly Devoted to Misery {Pokémon Fanfiction}

Chapter 1: The Wreck That I Am With the Living

I rhythmically tap my fingers on the wooden counter. My left hand seems to play a sonata while my right hand supports my mind that's bored to death. Tufts of my brown hair slide into my face, arching over my forehead into my eyes. I blow on the bangs, attempting to convince them to settle somewhere else. It's to no avail as they sink back down again.

The dimly lit bar in the Striaton City Gym & Restaurant plays low trumpeting jazz music as the barkeeper polishes clean drinking glasses that he has gathered throughout the evening. His light green hair matches his green eyes as his worried smile is unmistakable. He looks up at me with a raised eyebrow as he grasps his cloth and the glass in his hands. His black and white bartender suit is crisp in its color contrast. The lack of stains makes it appear he is adept at keeping his uniform as clean as he keeps the bar.

"So, uhh...now your tab is at four hundred four dollars. Give or take some change," he informs me. I look back at him with a resigned expression. His nametag reads Cilan.

"Thanks for the status update," I respond, waving my left hand at him. I gaze at the clock on the far wall. The ticks past eleven p.m. march by as I sigh in frustration. Cilan places the glass down behind the counter out of sight. He grabs a clean towel and nervously wipes down the bar counter to my left. His smile is small and still worried. I guess reminding people of their massive tab doesn't give him a sense of joy. It would be rather sadistic, if you ask me.

My gaze turns from the clock to the second floor of the bar on the left end of the room. It's an open, windowed balcony area that's up a winding, double-helix flight of wooden stairs. There are a few tables that are candlelit with a few patrons still left chatting quietly to each other. A man is slumped over by one of the three windows, probably passed out drunk.

I see another man in the familiar bartender uniform helping the drunken man out of the bar. His hair can only be described as red and wild. It has an entropy that's chaotic, and I know his face as well since his red hair matches his red eyes. I can't see it now, but I know his nametag reads Chili.

He heaves the man onto his shoulder, supporting him as he escorts him down the stairs rather easily. It seems like he's done it enough times before to have a knack for some form you should use. His steps are slow and paced, kind of like my finger tapping tends to be.

I look back forward again and find Cilan cleaning a different glass. I have no idea where he produced these cups from, but I do know he likes to polish them in front of me.

I slump down in my barstool I'm sitting on. I lay my head down and look off to the right. Cleaning tables is another man in the recognizable barkeeper uniform. His hair is a dark blue hue, swept down across half of his face. You can barely discern the color in the limited light, but I know him just as much as I know Cilan and Chili. He's the cooler brother of the three barkeepers. His nametag? It reads Cress.

Three barkeepers run the Striaton City Pokémon Gym & Restaurant. Three barkeepers are also three brothers and three gym leaders. Cilan, Chili, and Cress are the triumvirate that I probably know the most.

I, on the other hand, don't live such a glorious life as I appear to have. Despite my ability to laze around in a bar past eleven, it's merely because I have nothing better to do on a Saturday evening like this one.

I turn my head back forward to see, in the moments I looked away, that Cilan stockpiled a large amount of glasses. The two glasses I remember have somehow magically multiplied into twenty as it is stacked five-high. I hear a clink after each glass Cilan methodically places in his towers. His gaze turns from his glass palace to me.

"Tristan...the Striaton Bar closes at midnight. Just to, uhh...let you know," Cilan reminds me. I sigh heavily as I hide my head in my arms. The black windbreaker I'm wearing is cool to the touch on my face. I can't bear leaving and wandering aimlessly before going home. That's just pathetic.