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The curtains draw slowly. It’s dark, inky darkness on the stage revealing the faces of the audience, dozens of hues of excitement. They’ll be impossible to see once the lights start shining, something which Grian is thankful for.
There’s a strange thrill that comes with starting a new show. His heartbeat thrums in his wrists, blood rushing to his head, with the dizzying thrill of performance pounding in his head.
Above is a tangled web of hoops, strings, and bars; below his feet, a carefully planned stage of painted markings and footholds.
On the edge of the stage, the spotlights flash on, all trained on Grian, and suddenly, everything off the stage disappears.
Whatever happens next, Grian is sure that they’ll never forget this.
Music starts, loud and electric. These people signed up for more than they think, and Grian’s the main star.
He spreads his arms wide, the signal to his pokemon that it’s time to go. They’ve practiced this routine until it was perfect, until every step can be placed in the right spot, and every move done proficiently.
His modern vivillon jumps out first in a burst of colorful pops, keeping its wing in for a second before spreading them, allowing Grian to jump into the air, seemingly having wings of his own.
This show will be done in three stages, and the first has already begun.
The lights have a yellowish-green tint as meowscarada and lilligant dash out of pokeballs, showers of petals being left behind. They cast leaf storm and magical leaf, filling the room with a foresty quality.
The sweet scent of flowers fills the air, a move used by lilligant. Vivillon uses tailwind to spread it across the audience. The mood has been set; now it’s Grian’s turn.
He grabs onto the bar, then swoops down. Every sense blurs; the only thing he’s able to trust is the countless hours of practice and the fact that his pokemon won’t let him fall.
By now, all the exits must be closed off. He knows Scar and Skizz work fast, especially when Grian’s involved. They want to impress him, unknowing of the fact he’ll never be.
After a few flashy moves from him, some that look harder than they are, and some that look simple and feel impossible, he drops. Vivillon beats its wings, bringing Grian just far back enough that his feet find the hoop, and he can grab the sides.
Grian’s left foot slips off. A jolt of panic runs through him, fingers locking onto the hoop like clamps. He ducks down and lets himself slide downwards before hanging on the hoop with his right leg and arm.
He’s never shown this off to anyone except Pearl yet; they won’t know what he meant to do or not. Especially not when it’s over. This’ll be the last thing they’re paying attention to.
The crowd whoops in acrylic delight. Clearly, his little slip-up went over well. Grian lets himself hang for a moment, allows his heart to calm, then swings back up to start the actual rehearsed part of the show.
Kirlia leaps out of its pokeball, already dancing in a flurry of sparkles, landing on the stained wood. Meowscarada joins it, and the pair dance together for a moment, even doing a little spin that melts the audience's heart, judging by the shower of awws.
Kirlia casts life dew as Grian messes around with some spinning in the hoop. Now, ditto falls, kirlia catching it, it already mimicking kirlia, just shiny.
Ditto and kirlia spin together in dance, mimicking Grian’s own spins the best they can, though it being hard, seeing as he’s suspended in the air.
During this, vaporeon sneaks out of its pokeball, unseen in the coat of flowers and leaves. It gets ready for the next stage.
An aurora beam from vaporeon bursts out, an energy blast meeting it, covering the area in sparkling, icy, snowy light. Kirlia and ditto both cast life dew, covering the whole area in bubbles, reflecting the sparkles.
Sylveon jumps out of its pokeball and casts dazzling gleam, reflecting so much that it gives everyone else enough time to switch to the next stage.
Grian jumps off the hoop to some hanging circles as his pokemon dash around on the floor. Kirlia, meowscarada, and lilligant all hide outside of the audience's view. Vaporeon jumps around on the ground, driving up bubbles. Ditto mimics sylveon and the two chase each other around in circles, a sylveon and a shiny sylveon.
The dazzling gleam fades, and the two sylveon’s cast baby-doll eyes. Vaporeon uses alluring voice, and lilligant uses sweet scent again; this time, the smell of candy floats across the room.
Grian lets the audience look at his pokemon for a moment, and blends into the background without a second glance. He looks out. The spotlights themselves dim for a moment to turn a pinkish hue, so he can see for just a second, enough to find a cue.
Out there, in the very back of the audience, stand Skizz and Scar. Scar nods. Skizz gives him a thumbs up, and does a mocking cheer. No, not mocking. Those two really do believe he wants to be here. They fell for Team Hermit’s mockery of propaganda.
Both of them are holding gas masks, ready to put them on, just waiting for the end of the show. Any time, then.
The lights go back up, and Grian starts again. Vivillon flaps its wings a few times, drawing the attention once more to him, as the acrobatics start again.
This round mostly consists of kirlia, sylveon, and vaporeon charming the audience.
They use charm and hypnosis, leading the audience along in thoughts and mind. Grian’s glad that he can’t see the glazed eyes of them, the haunting emptiness on a smiling face. There’s something so incredibly wrong about taking someone’s brain away.
Though they aren’t targeting him, Grian knows what it feels like. It’s like swimming in a dream. There’s no hallucinations, but everything is a hallucination. Nothing that is real is real anymore. He pretends he’s affected by the trance. He’s one of the leaves in the wind, dragged along by the breeze.
Grian tunes everything out, opaque thoughts preventing him from thinking of anything else. Pigmented pain burns through his arms, as the later sections often hurt.
This section blurs by, tinted red by the future that looms on him. Grian doesn’t want to think about the crowd.
He doesn’t want to think about the future looming over them, sketched out in cruel plans. They laid the base in pencil, and Grian is inking in the lines.
It happens as quickly as it starts, vivillon lifting him back onto the bar.
The music ends.
They’re excited, ready for the next performance that won’t arrive. They’ll be greeted with something else very soon.
Grian bows to the audience, lingering on it for just a moment too long, before he pulls vivillon back into its pokeball and leans back.
For just a moment, gravity stops. The world swims as everything tilts, and he’s weightless. He’s floating. Grian waves his arms in a frantic motion, reaching for one of the poles and just failing, allowing himself to drop.
The screams are intoxicating. There’s a second where Grian allows himself to believe it. A moment where he allows himself to let go, to feel that this is the end. For just a moment, the smile that’s been plastered on his face the whole time becomes real.
Ditto casts light screen as he falls, filling Grian’s senses with a glow so bright it feels like he’s already died. The shrieks grow louder, almost hysterical.
Another vivillon grabs onto his back. It’s his white vivillon, giving the impression of angel wings. Gravity flips back up once more, and Grian flips in the air, gently hovering above the ground.
If everything went to plan, during the light screen, sylveon cast misty terrain, kirlia cast life dew, and meowscarada cast petal blizzard.
The light fades, and there’s a sparkly, misty dew that hangs in the air like a thick fog. White petals softly fall, swinging back and forth.
Sylveon casts moonblast, and meowscarada casts energy ball. The two meet just behind Grian, causing a blast of sparkles.
Soft gasps erupt from the audience. This time, he bows for real, still hovering in the air.
He lands and pulls all his pokemon back into the pokeballs, except his snow vivillon. The curtains start closing, and the clapping begins.
Then a shriek. Then a scream.
Then the entire crowd is alive with a fire, a mural of despair, people tossing out pokemon and shouting moves like there’s no tomorrow. Grian pulls vivillon back into the ball as poison attacks and gases get thrown out, one after the other, taking out most of the pokemon at once.
There’s a strange apathy that comes with knowing what he’s just done. A cold feeling that slinks through the stomach, twisting around his organs, squeezing his heart in.
Grian walks off the stage, feet planting perfectly on painted marks, one after the other. Leaving behind the crowd he amazed, dismayed, and betrayed.
The backstage is dark, just as dark as the stage was before the show.
The shouting gets muffled. There are a few people back here, all from Team Hermit, of course. They couldn’t let their precious star distraction run away, not that he would. As much as he doesn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t dream of walking out. Not yet.
In the charcoal room with dark lights, Grian’s costume stands out like a sore thumb. Grian sticks out like a sore thumb, with glittery makeup and too many pokeballs. With the pink-painted fingernails of a coordinator instead of the dirty ones of a trainer.
Grian looks at his nails for a moment. They aren’t real. They look real, despite the perfect edge, since they’re so short, but he can’t have long nails on the bar. His real nails are so chipped down that he’s given up trying to grow them out.
Grian, even down to his nails, is fake.
His fingers, stained with glitter and lies, are red from gripping onto everything. A drop of water falls into his hand as he stares down at them. Grian doesn’t check where it came from. He doesn’t want it to be true.
The scuffle ends quickly. He isn’t sure if that’s better or worse. Lilligant’s moves have long since faded away, leaving only gauche suffering and chemical fear.
There’s coughing, choking, from the innocent people who didn’t think to bring a gas mask to an acrobatics show.
Cub looms in the doorway. “You did a good job. Pearl would be proud.”
Grian scowls. “Don’t talk about her like you know her.” He turns his head away, looking at his hands. “You don’t. Stop pretending.”
“Come on.” He continues. “She’d want you to be happy.”
“She’s not dead, so stop acting like it.” Grian snaps.
Cub pauses. “So hostile. You should really be more polite.” His voice gets a bit softer. “She’d appreciate it.”
His mind goes numb as Grian freezes. The world goes dark, as if he’s still staring into those lights. Stop being rude, don’t antagonize him. Be better. Be better. Be better.
“Right- yeah. Sorry, after the show gives me jitters.” Grian apologizes. “My bad.”
Cub smiles. “Keep this up, and you two might be free to see each other sometime soon.” He pats him on the back and heads out to the front of the house.
Cub’s been saying that since their little ‘deal’ started. It’s been over two months.
Masquerain leaves its pokeball on its own. It nudges his hand, a questioning look on its face.
“I know you miss her little guy.” He says, picking masquerain up and setting it in his lap. “We’ll see her again. Don’t worry. You just have to be patient.”
He smiles at the pokemon. It scuttles around for a moment before going back into its ball. His smile drops. It seems he’s just as good at fooling his pokemon as an audience.
Grian holds a pokeball in his hands, absentmindedly rubbing it. Inside sleeps a dragonair, unaware of the chaos outside. He should really let it out sometime, but it gets agitated when outside without her, and he can’t let them see it.
He’ll get her back. Pearl was a professional trainer, and her dragonair was her strongest. Cub might’ve been able to steal almost all of her team, but she tucked this pokeball under the mattress, and they must not have found it before Grian came home.
He’s been training in secret. Trainers are only supposed to have six, but at this point, the rules can go die in a hole and never come back. Who cares anyway? Grian’s a coordinator who can have as many pokemon as he wants. It’s them who dragged him into this.
Grian just wants his sister. Despite what Cub seems to think, he’s no pushover. He’ll do what it takes.
The path he walks is painted in stars and glitter dust, petals and bubbles surrounding him. The next shade will be a red one.
For now, Grian brushes a vibrant smile back onto his face and steps back out to the faces of a new crowd, on the painted stage.