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Emmet is happy that he convinced Corbeau to go walking around Lumiose city with him today. They were walking around Prism Tower, which was unfortunately closed due to the redevelopment plan. It was still a sight to behold. Corbeau seems less impressed, but Emmet supposes he does live here.
“Let's go get something to drink,” Corbeau points out a Café truck close by. It has a sign that says Nouveau Café on the outside of it.
Emmet agrees and they walk over.
The two people running the truck have parts of their hair dyed an obnoxious orange colour. Emmet can't tell if it's to match the orange colour of the truck, or if they are trying to grow out a bad dye job.
It's none of Emmet's business, so he focuses on the menu. There's a fire move theming to the coffee drinks. The Fire Blast Roast seems to be the strongest of the cheaper drinks and the Ember Roast seems to be the weakest. He thinks he knows what he'll order.
“Mr. Corbeau, it's good to see you,” the girl with the bad dye job standing outside the truck says to Corbeau, “I'm guessing you'll be taking your usual?”
“Yes, thank you Griselle,” Corbeau says.
“One Ember Roast full of milk and sugar,” she says to the man with a bad dye job in the truck. He starts making the order.
“And for you, sir?” The girl, Griselle, asks Emmet.
“I am Emmet. I will have a Flame Blast Roast,” Emmet says.
“Any milk or sugar?” Griselle asks.
It's not that Emmet is against milk or sugar, but Corbeau's order barely sounded like coffee.
“Nope,” Emmet says.
“One plain Fire Blast Roast,” Griselle says to the man inside the truck. He nods, passes over Corbeau's order, and starts making Emmet's.
After getting both their drinks and paying, they start to walk around Lumiose again. Emmet can tell his coffee is way too hot to start drinking, so he is waiting for it to cool. With all the milk in Corbeau's coffee, he can start drinking it right away.
“You have a usual there,” Emmet says, “do you go there a lot?”
“I make it a point to grab a coffee from them whenever I'm in the area,” Corbeau says, “honestly their coffee is too strong for my tastes, but I want to help them out as much as I can.”
“Do you know them?” Emmet asks.
“Not personally,” Corbeau admits, “but it is an open secret that they used to be Team Flare grunts. After everything, it only seems right to help them get back on their feet.”
“They used to be in Team Flare?” Emmet asks, “why aren't they in prison?”
“What do you mean?” Corbeau gives Emmet a look. Emmet doesn't think anything of it, and keeps talking.
“After Team Plasma first attacked Unova, we did not round all of them up,” Emmet says, “then they attacked again two years later. Learn from our mistakes. Anyone in Team Flare should be locked up.”
“They were Grunts. Now they're just trying to make a living,” Corbeau says, “and don't compare Team Plasma and Team Flare. Those were two different situations.”
“Yep, they are different,” Emmet says, “Team Flare was worse.”
“Emmet,” Corbeau says in a warning tone. Emmet doesn't pick up on it and keeps talking.
“Team Plasma preached false ideals and tried to steal all pokemon during their first attack,” Emmet says, “Team Flare just tried to kill everyone. Ghetesis was crazy, but he just wanted power. Lysandre wasn't even on the tracks. He was insane and plain evil.”
Corbeau angrily throws his cup into a nearby trash can. Emmet can see some of the light brown liquid on his left hand. It doesn't look like he burned himself, but he must have gripped the cup so hard he spilt some on himself.
“I'm going back to work,” Corbeau tells Emmet through gritted teeth. He looks pissed, a vein budging in his forehead.
He starts to angrily walk off away from Emmet. Thankfully, Emmet has much longer legs and can easily catch up. Corbeau keeps speeding up, like he's trying to get away from Emmet. It's not that hard for Emmet to keep pace.
“We are supposed to spend the afternoon together,” Emmet says sadly.
“Some of us have actual jobs, Mr. Gray,” Corbeau emphasises Emmet's nickname like he's trying to piss Emmet off.
“Are we still going to the Royale together?” Emmet asks.
“I'm busy tonight,” Corbeau says.
“No you aren't,” Emmet says, “that is why we planned to spend time together until the Royale tonight.”
Corbeau abruptly stops speed walking. It takes Emmet a little bit longer to stop and turn around to face Corbeau.
“Take the goddamn hint and leave me alone,” Corbeau says.
“Did I say something wrong?” Emmet asks, concerned by Corbeau's ‘sudden’ change in demeanor.
“Did you say something wrong? Did you say something wrong!” Corbeau laughs without joy in his voice, “drink your coffee and entertain yourself for once. I'm busy.”
Emmet doesn't follow Corbeau this time. He watches as Corbeau leaves, wondering what he said wrong.
He finally takes a sip of his coffee.
It burns his tongue.
Corbeau's definitely pissed at Emmet. Not the temporary, almost cute, pissed Corbeau usually is, but actively avoiding and snapping at Emmet. Emmet's pretty sure this is their first big fight as a couple, and he's not sure what he did wrong.
Emmet really likes Corbeau, so he needs to find out.
They were talking about Team Flare and the two people running the Café truck being ex-members. Emmet doesn't know how long Corbeau's been the leader of the Rust Syndicate, but he does know Philippe gave Corbeau that title, and that Team Flare was stopped five years ago.
The direct path was always the best path, so Emmet walks into Corbeau's office and stands right in front of his desk.
“Were you a part of Team Flare?” Emmet asks point blank.
Corbeau looks like he's two seconds away from exploding. He takes a shaky breath and says, “No. I was never a part of Team Flare. Now would you be so kind as to GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!”
This is still not the cute kind of anger. Emmet decides that he values his relationship and his life, so he quickly flees the office.
Maybe it would have been better to ask him what's wrong. Emmet stands outside of Corbeau's office door thinking. He knows Corbeau prefers when people are direct, but this is getting him nowhere.
He won't be able to try again until Corbeau has some time to cool off.
Maybe he could get some answers from Corbeau's best friend and bodyguard, Philippe, while he waits.
After wandering around for a bit, Emmet spots Philippe coming out of a meeting room with a couple of Grunts. He turns in the direction Emmet is, the direction towards Corbeau's office, and starts walking.
“Hello Mr. Gray,” Philippe says as he gets close.
“I am Emmet. I have a question for you,” Emmet says, “do you know why Boss is mad at me?”
“Yes,” Philippe sighs as the two of them walk down the hallway, “I know why Boss is mad at you.”
“Why?” Emmet asks.
“It's not going to be that easy,” Philippe says, “you're going to have to sort this out with the Boss. I'm not helping you.”
“I asked him if he used to be a part of Team Flare,” Emmet says, “I think he is more mad at me now.”
“Please don't tell me you just asked him that,” Adder says.
“I did.”
“So, he's going to be fuming when I get to his office.”
“Yep.”
“Look, you haven't exactly been the most forthcoming about your past,” Philippe says, “I'm not going to spill Beau's secrets, but I can tell you that he was never part of Team Flare. He has a lot of mixed feelings about that time. It was complicated. It was messy. He hasn't been able to sort it all out for himself. I don't think he will ever be able to.”
“I am Emmet. I know I hurt him,” Emmet says, “I don't know why. I want to fix it.”
“If you're talking about Beau and Team Flare, you aren't going to be able to fix that,” Philippe says, “So, don't try. If you want to get him to talk to you, stop making assumptions. Just let him talk and listen. He cares about you. Prove you care about him.”
“I do care about him,” Emmet says, “I understand what you are saying. I will give him some more space before trying again.”
“That's a smart move,” Philippe says. They both stop. In front of them is Corbeau's office, “thanks for getting him riled up for me. I don't exactly come bearing good news.”
“I am sorry,” Emmet says sheepishly.
“Nothing I haven't dealt with before,” Philippe says, “you've got a lot more you have to deal with. Good luck.”
With that, Emmet watches Philippe go into Corbeau's office. The office is soundproof, something that Emmet is usually a fan of, but he can't hear what's going on between Corbeau and Philippe.
Emmet sits on a chair outside his office. He can look through a window as he thinks about what to say. At some point a Grunt comes to drop off food for Corbeau and Philippe. Emmet keeps sitting and thinking until it is dark outside.
He hears the door of Corbeau's office open. He looks over and sees Philippe coming out. Philippe makes eye contact with Emmet and walks over.
“Stop looking like a wet Litleo,” Philippe says. Emmet sits a little straighter in his seat, “you should go talk with Boss. Remember what I said. It's better you get this over with now instead of dragging it out.”
Emmet nods, “thank you.”
Philippe gives Emmet a quick nod before leaving.
Standing up, Emmet quietly enters Corbeau's office. He's not sitting at his desk, instead he's sitting at the couch where he usually has meetings. Corbeau has a drink in hand, and was looking at the papers spread across the coffee table in front of him. He looks up and watches silently as Emmet walks over and sits on the furthest end of the couch from him.
Emmet knows he'll have to start the conversation.
“I am Emmet. I want to apologize,” Emmet says, “I cannot properly apologize unless I know what I did wrong. I know it has something to do with Team Flare. I should not have pretended to know what I was talking about. I barely know what really happened with the Team Plasma attacks and I helped defend Unova from those. I understand it was complicated. I know that I know nothing. Please tell me. I want to apologize.”
“It wasn't Team Flare, necessarily," Corbeau turns away from Emmet as he says, “it was… Lysandre.”
Emmet waits patiently for Corbeau to continue.
“It was just, he,” Corbeau lets out a shaky breath, “I remember the day the news broke five years ago. It was all over the news. I was watching what they were saying about him, what they had caught him saying on camera. It couldn't be true, he loved Lumiose. He wanted-”
Corbeau has to stop himself for a moment.
“I was maybe half way through the initial broadcast when I got a call,” Corbeau says, “It was from Professor Sycamore. I didn't know him very well. We had only met a couple of times. We were both close to Lysandre. He asked me if I knew.”
Emmet's never seen Corbeau like this. He looks like he's trying not to cry.
“I told him I didn't know, which was the truth,” Corbeau is looking at his reflection in his drink now, “He asked me, asked me if I'm now realising there were signs, like he was. I told him he was being absurd. Lysandre wouldn't do this, wouldn't think this. It must have been fake, a cover up. The news must have been lying.”
Corbeau brings the glass to his lips like he's about to drink, but decides not to. He puts the glass on the table.
“It was only after I hung up that I realised he was right,” Corbeau says, “that there were signs. That in that moment being broadcasted all over Kalos, that is what he really believed.”
“He wasn't always like that,” Corbeau says after another shaky breath, “he wasn't like that when we first met. I was like that when we first met. I had lost everything. I was an orphan on the street. He showed me a Lumiose worth protecting. He introduced me to the Syndicate. He saved my life. I owe him everything.”
Corbeau leans back on the couch and rubs his eyes.
“He gave me my Gyrados,” Corbeau says, “I was so confused at first. I was always obsessed with poison types, it was no secret. What would a water type be good for? He told me it would be a powerful ally if I had the patience and discipline to train it. It was a level one Magikarp, just barely hatched from Lysandre's own Gyrados.”
“I think of him each time I summon Gyrados,” Corbeau has tears running down his eyes. He's stopped trying to rub them all away, “I think about the Lysandre I knew. I think about the Lysandre he became.”
Corbeau turns to look at Emmet. It's the first time he looked at Emmet since he started talking.
“I ended up befriending the chief of police to try and find out where he was,” Corbeau says, “the dealings worked out great for the Syndicate but the search for Lysandre was a dead end. He disappeared. Even the police don't know where he is. They're still looking for him. They have no leads. I never got the chance to talk to him about it. To ask him what changed. What caused him to think like this? To- to ask him…
To ask him if he would have killed me alongside everyone else he taught me to cherish.”
Emmet's not sure what to say. He's never been the best at words. That was always Ingo's job. When Corbeau doesn't start talking again, Emmet knows he has to do something. He's always been better with actions.
Moving closer to Corbeau on the couch, Corbeau doesn't stop Emmet from pulling him into a tight hug. Emmet rests his face on top of Corbeau's hair. He can feel Corbeau's hands bunch up and grab onto his shirt. Emmet can feel his own eyes tear up as he talks quietly into Corbeau's hair.
“I'm sorry he disappeared and I'm sorry you weren't able to get the answers you were looking for.”
Corbeau hands tighten on his shirt. He sniffles. Despite the tears running down his face from before, this time Corbeau sounds like he's crying. He shoves his face into Emmet's chest.
“It's not fair,” Corbeau says into Emmet.
“I know.”
“It's just not fair,” Corbeau hiccups, “where did he go? Why did he leave? I just want to talk to him. I just want to see him outside of the news. Outside of pictures. Why did it have to be like this? Why?”
“I'm sorry,” Emmet says, “sometimes things just happen you can't explain.”
“I hate it,” Corbeau sobs into Emmet's shirt, “I hate it. It shouldn't be like this.”
Emmet holds him close, holds him tight. He's sure Corbeau can feel the tears flowing out of his eyes and landing on his hair.
“You are right,” Emmet has to take a deep breath to stop himself from sobbing, “it shouldn't be like this.”
Emmet understands.
How Emmet wishes he didn't understand.
They stay like this for a long time. Emmet can feel as Corbeau's breathing slowly get steadier as he slowly relaxes into Emmet's arms. They are still and quiet, all of their tears dried up, for a while longer before Corbeau pulls away.
“I shouldn't have snapped at you,” Corbeau says, “I just try not to think about it most days. That part of my life was hard enough without wondering if the person who helped me was a monster the whole time. If he really was a monster at all.”
Emmet grabs Corbeau's hand and squeezes it, “thank you for telling me.”
“Come on,” Corbeau stands up, still holding Emmet's hand he drags him off the couch, “I don't want to stay another minute in this office. Besides, I think I owe you some of my time.”
“You do not owe me anything,” Emmet says, following Corbeau to the door, “but I will not complain about having your time.”