N x Bartender!Reader

                                    

                                          
(A little heavy! Takes place directly after N's defeat. Mention of nonsexual childhood grooming. Gender neutral reader!! Part 2?)

                          
I fill the glass, eyeing the man across the bartop from me. He's fairly sloshed from a single drink already, but doesn't seem like he's overdone it yet. I set a water glass beside him, and he nods his appreciation.
                          
He hasn't spoken, other than to order his drink. The bar is fairly empty, a larger group in one corner, a couple regulars, and sparse pairs around the room. A couple people have their Pokemon out and exploring, along with my own Lampent's purple-hued fire filling the bar. My manager's Audino waits as a bouncer, nibbling on a poffin.
                          
The man's long, light green hair falls down from the hairtie as he loosens it, seemingly disgruntled at the feeling.
                          
I wave a goodbye to one of the regulars, and fill some glasses for the waitress to deliver.
                          
The green-haired man's empty water glass slides to me as he gives a half-hearted smile. His eyes are tired and his face is sorrowful as I refill it, and I give a smile in return.
                          
"Hey, wanna talk about it, or be distracted by it?" I tilt my head, the question ingrained in me by a friend who asks it often.
                          
His green eyes contemplate. "... Maybe a bit of both," he admits.
                          
"Alright. What's your favourite pokémon type?" I lean against the bar, the dim light of the bar making him even more intriguing.
                          
"I don't really have a favourite type, I love all pokémon; they're all unique and special beings," he closes up a bit.
                          
"Ahh, okay, that's understandable," I smile. "I just know some people have a preference."
                          
"I guess," he shrugs, his movements sluggish. "I jus' don't think it's fair for the pokemon. They can't help what type they are," he pouts into his glass of alcohol.
                          
"Yeah," I suppress a laugh. "What pokémon partners do you have?"
                          
"Can we not talk about pokémon?" His voice strains suddenly, his face squeezing in as if he's upset.
                          
"Okay," I say softly. "Can I ask your name, stranger?"
                          
"..." He fixes his gaze on his glass. "I don't think I have one anymore. Not one that means anything."
                          
I glance to my coworker, arriving for their shift. They nod to me, and I sigh.
                          
"Well, I have to go home for the night. Do you have a ride?"
                          
His eyes meet mine again, the tie for his hair finally undone and on the bartop. "Do you have to leave?" 
                          
I pause, and he stands up, not quite steady on his feet. "I want to talk more," his voice is quiet. "You're the only person who would bother to talk to me," his face, once more, is upset. More upset than alcohol alone can influence.
                          
Feeling my stomach rumble, I think for a moment. No red flags from him so far. His tired eyes, the sadness prevalent in his posture. "Well, I'm going to the diner across the street before I head home, if you'd like to join me for some food."
                          
He nods. "Please."
                          
"Come on then," I offer him my arm, and call for my Lampent, Wisp, who was hiding in the corner of the bar with a customer's Boldore.
                          
"Is that Lampent your par'ner?" He leans as he asks with a drunken slurring of words.
                          
"Yep! Wisp is my partner," I smile as we make our way across the street, the purple light from Wisp illuminating our path.
                          
"He holds you in high esteem," he mumbles.
                          
"I'd like to think so," I watch to make sure he doesn't fall on the step as we arrive and find a seat, sitting across from him.
                          
I order some food for the two of us and for Wisp.
                          
"I'm sorry, I'm not usually like this," he mumbles, his head resting in his palm. "Today was the worst day of my life."
                          
I nod, taking a sip of my drink. "Want to talk about it?"
                          
"Yes... But no.. I definitely do," his eyes turn down, as if holding back his anguish. "It's just hard. I've never had anyone to open up to."
                          
"I'm here to listen," I smile at him. "It's part of my job as a bartender, and it's something I do for all my friends. I don't mind listening, or helping you not think about it. I'm here."
                          
"Thank you," he mumbles, taking a bite. "You're a very kind person, I can tell by the way your Lampent speaks about you."
                          
"... What?" Speaks? A Pokémon? Maybe he's drunker than I thought.
                          
"I can understand Pokémon, because of how I was brought up," the gloom seems to envelope him further, his shoulders sagging.
                          
"I see," I nod. It's best to go along with some things, right?
                          
"My entire world," he mumbles, staring at the fry in his hand. "My entire existence... It's all been a lie. Everything I've ever believed in and fought for was just someone else grooming me. What's real? What's false? What do I truly believe?" Both of his hands are on his face now, elbows on the table as he audibly holds back sobs.
                          
"What does it matter that this morning I had everything, when it was all a lie? It was a fabricated emotion, fabricated power, and fabricated love.
                          
"My pokémon are the only thing I can believe in now-- but what do they have to look forward to? I'm a wreck. I'm a fraud. Ideals have lost to truth, and now both of mine are gone.
                          
"What is a king if his kingdom was a charade? If his whole life-- he was merely tugged along into someone else's ambition? Someone else's power grab, not the ideals of the king. Being taken advantage of is vile, unforgivable. But allowing someone to so completely fool me? I truly am someone who deserves to lose it all."
                          
I listen with a heavy heart, knowing now that this was the one who holds Zekrom, known as N, the one who wanted us to release our pokémon. I'd be angry if he wasn't so broken up about it, the tears dribbling down his face. Even Wisp holds a somber face.
                          
"N," I begin. "Can I call you that-- yes?-- N, you didn't deserve any of that. You've done nothing wrong in your morality. There's truth in what you've brought to Unova's conscious; some trainers are awful and don't deserve their pokémon. There's nothing controversial about that. Being led astray your whole life that all trainers make pokémon suffer, that's something you're obviously having to relearn, and this is a good step-- talking about it. Now that you're away from that influence, you can find yourself. And, your pokémon will always be with you, no matter what. They care about you as much as you care about them. I can't tell you what to do, and I'm not quite qualified to give you advice. I just want you to know that you're not as bad as you're making yourself out to be," I brush my hand atop his, tearful green eyes meeting mine as he gently grabs my hand.
                          
"Thank you," he wipes his face, a small, anguished smile appearing on his lips. "I don't think I've ever had such a meaningful conversation in my life."
                          
"Of course," I smile back, squeezing his hand a bit. "You deserve to be happy. Everyone does."
                          
We eat in silence for a while, small talk here and there and slowly his smile begins to become more genuine, and more sober.
                          
The two of us split the bill, and the cool night air hits us as we leave.
                          
"Here, here's my number," I nudge his shoulder with mine. "If you ever need someone to talk to, or someone to bartend a party y'know," I hand him the piece of paper with my number.
                          
N smiles once more as he nods, and the two of us part ways.
                          
Almost as soon as I get to my apartment, I receive a text.
                          
This is N. Thank you for everything.
Hope you get home safe.