I hear the beeping again.

The room is so silent, too silent for the taste of the Psychic type standing in the corner. It should be louder, livelier, just the way he would have wanted it.

But he's not here anymore.

Ethereal hands reach up to rub at tired red eyes, rimmed with a combination of sorrow and weariness. Memories swim through the eyes like Magikarp in a pond, dancing and leaping in the dance of the dead.

He can't be dead, he can't be.

The thin Pokémon hugs itself tightly, digging sharp nails into its own flesh. The humans around it give it a wide berth, sending it frightened, pitying, and sometimes even empathetic looks.

He promised.

The boy with the white cap is staring at it now, a glass of foul tasting punch gripped unsteadily in his hand. Their eyes meet for just a second, then the Pokémon looks away, hating that it sees genuine sorrow in his eyes.

His eyes are lying.

A tuft of green hair is sticking out of the casket, waving in the thin breeze provided by the human horde. The thin Psychic type hovers towards it, staring at the floor. Finally, it reaches it and looks down at the pale face in front of it.

He'll wake up any moment.

It strokes the thin, colder than ice cheek gently, holding in sobs.

He's going to wake up.

It pushes the thick green locks away from the closed eyes, just like it used to in the final days in the hospital.

He'll wake up and laugh, saying it was all a joke.

Gravity defying hair bobs through the thin crowd, heading towards the casket where it still floats, guard like. Small, child-like hands pull a small body up to the stool put there just for his use.

"He's not waking up, you know."

He's going to wake up! He is!

The ethereal Pokémon rubs at its eyes again, pushing back more tears.

Green eyes, just like his, look up at it.

"You know that he isn't. You need to let go."

It shakes its magnificent green head slowly, letting out a choked sob.

Don'tlethimgo. Don'tlethimgo. Don'tlethimgo.

One of the child-like hands places itself on its shoulder.

"It's not healthy."

The Pokémon firmly shakes its head. It knows, it already knows. But it would have done anything to protect its trainer, even sacrifice itself. But it couldn't protect him from what was already inside.

Can't let go, don't let him go. Greenhairgreeneyespalesmile.

The hand vanished and the Pokémon was left alone to mourn. Slowly the humans left, one by one, until it was completely alone.

He's going to wake up.

He promised.

He's going to wake up.