Tracey begins sketching another picture in his sketchbook. He focuses on the object of his drawing, the pencil scraping across the paper being the only thing he can hear. He glances up, blushing all the while. He is nervous, but it doesn't show in his picture. It is perfection, maybe even his best picture ever.
The object—or person, rather, stands up and walks across the lab to approach him. Tracey immediately fiddles with the sketchbook, flipping it closed so that the person doesn't see what it is he is drawing.
"Hey, Tracey!" Professor Oak says to him with a smile. "I didn't realize you were sitting over here. Were you drawing something?"
"N-no," Tracey stutters. He doesn't mean to, but he didn't anticipate Professor Oak standing up and walking over to him. "Just flipping through some old pictures."
"Y'know, I don't think I've seen this sketchbook…" Professor Oak glances curiously at the orange sketchbook Tracey is holding. "Are there any Pokémon in there that I haven't seen?"
Tracey flinches. This sketchbook has no pictures of Pokémon in them, because they are all pictures of Professor Oak.
"N-no! They're all Pokémon you've seen!" Tracey lies.
"Oh. Well, can I see them anyway?" Professor Oak asks. "I love your drawings."
Tracey begins to panic. There's no way he can show this to him.
"I-I'm sorry, Professor Oak," Tracey shakes his head and stands up, holding the sketchbook close to his chest. "I have to go take care of something!" Tracey then speeds off, heading toward his room upstairs, leaving Professor Oak to scratch his head in confusion.
Burgh begins painting another picture on his canvas. He focuses on the object of his drawing, the brush scraping across the canvas being the only thing he can hear. He glances up, blushing all the while. He is nervous, but it doesn't show in his picture. It is perfection, maybe even his best picture ever.
The object—or person, rather—turns around and walks across the Gym to approach him. Burgh immediately fiddles with the canvas, flipping it over so that the person doesn't see what he is painting.
"Burgh?" Elesa asks with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't realize you were sitting there. Were you painting a picture?"
"No," Burgh chuckles nervously. "Just getting an idea of what I want to paint next."
Elesa smiles. "C'mon, now, Burgh. Don't lie to me! You were painting something! I wanna see it!"
Burgh begins to get flustered. "U-um, no, I wasn't…"
"Burgh, you are the worst liar ever! Your painting stuff is sitting right next to you!" Elesa pointed out. "Now let me see it!"
"N-no!" Burgh stands ups and holds the painting close. He can't show this to her. "I have to go!" He ran out of his own Gym and keeps going until he reaches his studio next door, leaving Elesa to cross her arms and sigh heavily.
Tracey sits in his room in the dark. The only seemingly visible light is from the window, but it's very cloudy outside.
He slowly flips through the orange sketchbook, carefully examining every picture of Professor Oak. Sure, Professor Oak was his idol, but he was also more than that.
Tracey was in love with Professor Oak.
But he was completely unreachable. Professor Oak was much too old for him. Plus he was sure people would criticize him for loving someone so much older than him. There's no way they could ever pursue a relationship.
Tracey frowns. It was completely hopeless. These drawings were meant to make him feel better, but he only felt a longing by staring at something that he just continued to duplicate. It didn't make a difference. These pictures were stupid. Why did he continue to draw them?
Clenching his teeth, Tracey begins to tear out the pictures, ripping each of them up individually. He didn't even bother throwing the scraps in the trash, he just let them litter his room. Like his broken heart, shattered to pieces never to be put back together.
When Tracey is done, he hugs his knees and begins to cry. Drawing is his passion, but drawing the object of his affection just makes the pain worse. He gives up and decides that he should just leave the pencil alone, forever.
Burgh sits in his studio in the dark. The only seemingly visible light is from the window, but it's very cloudy outside.
He slowly scans the room, carefully examining every picture of Elesa hung up on the walls. Sure, he admired Elesa, but she was also more than that.
Burgh was in love with Elesa.
But she was completely unreachable. Elesa was a beautiful model. Many guys had aimed to go out with her. There's no way they could ever pursue a relationship.
Burgh frowns. It was completely hopeless. These paintings were meant to make him feel better, but he only felt a longing by staring at something that he just continued to duplicate. It didn't make a difference. These paintings were stupid. Why did he continue to paint them?
Clenching his teeth, Burgh begins to tear the paintings off of the wall, throwing them into a pile in the corner. He took out a match a lit it with a lighter, tossing it onto the paintings and watching them burn. Like his broken heart, melted and shriveled up never to be repaired.
When Burgh puts out the fire, he hugs his knees and begins to cry. Painting is his passion, but painting the object of his affection just makes the pain worse. He gives up and decides that he should just leave the brush alone, forever.
Drawing, paintings, portraits… they're just still memories, never to be real or relived again.