Different Scents

Different Scents

This idea is sort of small and random, but if I get any more inspiration for other characters, I'll add it here!

Ijin: fresh linen, the steel blade of knives, the rubbery smell of bandages, medical alcohol, sometimes the faint whiff of blood, freshly cut vegetables. He doesn’t wear cologne so he smells very fresh, but his scent is naturally intoxicating and he smells appealing without even trying. When you hug him you just want to stay in his arms and inhale his scent for as long as possible.

Dayeon: flowery shampoo, subtle sugary perfume, sweet lip balm, spices from cooking, the warm heady scent of lit candles. When you catch her scent it's like a shot to the gut, it's so sweet and inviting. People are captivated when they smell her, they want to stay by her side forever.

Grandpa Yu: cotton, apples, butterscotch candies, aftershave, glossy photographs, that scent of old cologne no one anyone wears anymore. He just smells really comforting and familiar, like someone safe.

Dushik Cha: cigarette smoke, expensive cologne, scotch, hair gel, that metallic scent that comes from both his bat and blood, homemade food, the faint whiff of car grease.

Major Kang: sandalwood, freshly baked bread, the fancy soaps Jiye bought for him, spicy cologne, the slightest hint of gingerbread. He smells very homey and when Ijin first hugged him, he was grasping the back of his shirt so hard it became wrinkled. It was the first time he realized that touch didn’t always hurt.

Liam: gunpowder, sweat, cheap cologne, the faint whiff of cigarettes, coffee grounds, that dry scent that tells you he’s carrying money in his pockets. He's got a musky scent, but it's comforting all the same.

Maya: jasmine shampoo, pine trees, leather, coconut lotion, the faint scent of smoke. She doesn't like perfume because it overwhelms her and hurts her nose, so she smells very natural.

002: envelopes, printer ink, the cold metal of his handgun, expensive liquor, the imperceptible scent of takeout. He likes to wear expensive colognes because he never had that growing up, and now that he has the freedom to choose what he wants he gets the best luxury brands he never could have afforded. Also, since he is the current leader of the Numbers he feels like he has an image to keep up.

016: gun oil, machinery, pencil dust, old books, buttery popcorn, the faded aroma of baked sweets, the earthy scent of rain on hot pavement.

032: campfires, cinnamon, late night espresso shots, sharpies, the faint scent of blood, that familiar smell computers seem to have.

Kimbaps & Kind Talks

Summary: a girl found a boy being cornered by some bullies. homeless, alone, and starving, the boy asked the girl if she could please buy him some food.

the girl said yes.

***

(Their first meeting isn't really a meeting, but more of a moment where their lives briefly touched then went their separate ways.

But everything starts from somewhere.)

***

She meets him again when she is walking home from school, the light of the sunset dying the sky hues of orange and gold.

They both stop, equally surprised when they see each other again.

“Oh, you’re the…” Dayeon trails off, not sure how to finish that sentence. Homeless boy? Runaway that was starving and asked me for food? Kid who’s all alone? None of those sound particularly appealing, and she doesn’t want to be rude.

While she’s lost in thought, the boy rummages through his pockets before finally pulling out what he wanted— the money she had given him the day before. She notices that half of it has been used.

“H—Here,” the boy holds out the crinkled money. “Thanks for before, you really saved me. This is all I have, but I'll pay back the rest soon.”

Dayeon hesitantly takes it. “Oh, you don't have to do this… will you have anything left for yourself?”

“I'll be alright.” He reassures her.

“Well, if you say so.” Dayeon goes to bow before she suddenly hears a stomach growl loudly. She looks up to see the boy turning bright red.

“Oh?”

“…”

Dayeon can't help but let out a soft laugh when she sees the boy's embarrassed face.

“You know, I'm actually feeling a little bit hungry myself. There's a convenience store right around the corner, care to join me?”

“ … yes, please.”

Dayeon begins walking, and after a moment, the boy follows her. Dayeon glances at him. She can already tell he's a bit on guard and on the quiet side, so she tries to loosen him up.

“You know, now that I think about it, I never got your name last night,” says Dayeon. The boy tenses for some reason, so Dayeon tries to put him at ease by introducing herself first. “I’m Dayeon.”

The boy hesitates, jaw working, like he was struggling with himself. Dayeon turns to look at him, and he meets her eyes. She waits, smiling patiently, and slowly, some of the tension dissolves in his shoulders.

“My name is… Isak.”

“Isak,” Dayeon repeats the foreign name slowly, and the boy gives a strange sort of shudder, like he's never heard his own name come out of another's mouth before. She eyes the reaction curiously and gives him a smile. “That's a nice name.”

The boy doesn't look like he knows what to say to that. “Um, thank you,” he says. His face is still stained with blush.

They walk in silence for a few minutes, and Dayeon steals another glance at him. He’s relaxed a bit more, so he isn't hiding his face under his cap like before, and now she can see the giant bruise swelling on his cheek.

“Hey,” she says, snapping his attention back to her. “Are you alright? You have…” Dayeon trails off and gestures helplessly to his face.

He blinks in surprise, almost as if he's startled she noticed the fresh bruise painting his face. “Oh. Um, yeah, I got into a fight earlier today.”

Dayeon gasps. “Was it those guys again?” She cries, dismayed.

Isak flinches. “Well, I did run into them again…”

Call it a habit she’s inherited from living with Ijin, but Dayeon is able to spot a half-truth a mile away. Her eyes flicker down to his hands.

(His knuckles were split and had fresh bruises. He didn’t carry himself as someone who had been injured. He hadn't been defending himself. He'd been fighting.)

A niggling feeling worms its way into her stomach.

“I see,” she says when she realizes she left him hanging. “You should be careful around here. Seoul is pretty safe, but there are a lot of gangs around these parts. Lots of rich kids try to pick fights with each other and get away with it because they have money.”

“Alright,” says Isak. He suddenly flinches like a thought has come to him and turns to her. “Will you be alright?”

Dayeon blinks, surprised. At first, she has no idea what he is talking about, but then she realizes what he means. She’s a teenage girl walking home all by herself in an area where she said there is a lot of criminal activity. And she knows firsthand how much men like to harass teenage girls.

His red-colored eyes stare into her, and it feels like he’s probing her soul for answers.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a fast runner,” Dayeon reassures him. “Lots of experience.” That probably wasn’t the most reassuring thing to say, but it was true. All the times of outrunning her bullies, drunk old men harassing her, and teenage boys who wouldn’t take no for an answer has practically turned her into a professional track star.

Gaining a brother had decreased those problems significantly, but old habits die hard.

Isak nods silently, and Dayeon somehow feels like he's more aware of what those experiences are than most boys are at their age.

They walk into the convenience store together, and Dayeon immediately sets out to ask Isak what he wants. He gives her a noncommittal shrug, so Dayeon is left nervously deciding what to pick out for him and second-guessing each item. Isak is hovering over her shoulder and trailing after her like a lost puppy, but every time Dayeon asks him what he would like he keeps on shrugging and saying variations of “I don't care” which inadvertently makes her more awkward. Finally, she suggests that they'll have better luck picking out items if they split up and choose.

Dayeon fingers the mouth of the cold soda, eyeing Isak across the store. He's studying the packages of kimbaps, looking a bit overwhelmed and flinching every time he meets the employee's gaze.

(Sometimes. Sometimes Ijin would flinch whenever someone called his name. Like he wasn’t used to it. Like he didn’t recognize it. Like he didn’t know it.

Like he was never called it.)

“ISAK!” Dayeon calls across the store, and he jerks so hard he knocks down the rows of food-filled plastic containers on the floor.

Dayeon is shocked. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but she didn't expect that reaction. Spotting the cashier scowling, she hurried over to Isak, who was hurriedly picking up the food.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he mutters. His whole face is red with embarrassment.

“It's okay,” soothes Dayeon, helping him pick up the mess. “It's my fault for calling you so loudly in public. I didn't mean to startle you.”

Dayeon neatly stacks the meals on the shelves while Isak picks them up from the floor. She glances at him when he isn't looking. She doesn't even know why she is wary of him, but it's just something about this boy that is sending some sort of signal to her.

He's different. Not in the way of a foreigner, but of something else. He walks like he's half-expecting to be stabbed than be offered a handshake. His words are mindful, but not in the way of not knowing the language but of carefully wording out information.

And his eyes.

Watchful and wary, darting around like he is looking for something— or hiding from it.

He reminds her of Ijin, and she wants to know why.

And then she does.

It happens in an instant. So unnoticeable that Dayeon would have missed it if she was paying less attention. Isak hands her the final plastic container, and as he does so, the sleeve of his red hoodie slips up.

And she sees it.

There, on the inside of his left wrist, written in small fine-print black ink, is:

032.

Suddenly, the air just leaves her lungs. Her ears can hear nothing but a high-pitched ringing. Dayeon suddenly feels dizzy and faint.

(Her brother had a tattoo on his wrist. It was small and he tried to hide it, but they lived together so it was impossible to, really. Sometimes, when they washed dishes together, he would pull up his sleeves and Dayeon would catch a glimpse.

Inside of his right wrist was the number 001 .)

Dayeon tries to force herself to think it's a coincidence. This boy was likely a runaway, and that's why he wasn't used to his name. He was so jumpy and careful because he had likely lived on the streets, not because he was looking out for something. He had the tattoo because — because — just because!

(Something tells her it isn't.)

“Hey, are you okay?” Somebody asks. Dayeon snaps out of her daze to see the boy — Isak — staring at her with concerned red-colored eyes. His brow is furrowed, and it causes a crease in his face.

“Yes, I'm fine,” Dayeon's heart is pounding, and she doesn't know why. She forces a smile. “Sorry, I just blanked for a second.”

Shame and guilt sweep under her skin. Who is she to throw her half-baked suspicions onto him? She's probably on edge from Yeona’s kidnapping and seeing that blond foreigner that had thrown Ijin off for days. Right now, she’s just jumping to conclusions about who or what this boy is with only a gut feeling and circumstantial evidence.

From now on, Dayeon would just treat him as a— a normal boy.

In recompense, she offers him the ice-cold soda and he takes it confusedly. “We still have to pay?”

“It's for your bruise,” she says, gently tapping the side of her own jaw.

He blinks, startled. “Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem. Did you want to buy this or are you ready to pay?”

“Pay, please.”

Isak trails after her, soda to his cheek as he watches her pay. They make their way onto the porch, and as soon as she dumps all the food on the table, Isak gobbles it up like it's his last meal.

"You should leave some for spending next time. I wasn't expecting you to pay me back,” says Dayeon as Isak chomps down on the kimbaps.

"Of course I should pay you back. You're not supposed to wait until you have extra to pay someone back for their help." Isak scoffs.

"True," Dayeon counters with a smile. "But haven't you ever heard the saying, 'kindness is free'?"

The boy lets out a sharp, barking laugh like she’s said something hilarious. “Not from where I’m from.”

“Well, then clearly you didn’t grow up in the right place,” says Dayeon.

Isak stares at her, a curious, surprised, studying look appearing as he takes her in consideration. After a moment, his mouth twitches into something of a smile. “Maybe,” he agrees softly.

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two teenagers stare at each other until Dayeon clears her throat and gestures to the food. Isak flushes and digs in.

Dayeon can't help but stare at him while he's busy eating.

She didn't really notice the last time they met, but this was her first time seeing the boy in a real light instead of being cast in shadows or the dim glow of the convenience store.

His face is fair and slender, wisps of blond hair escaping his black cap. His lashes were blond, but they were long and thick and in the dying sun, cast shadows under the startling red-colored eyes that Dayeon first noticed.

He was actually… really pretty.

Dayeon knows that pretty isn’t really something that should describe a boy, but she didn’t know how else to describe him. He just… was.

Were all Western boys this pretty?

His eyes flick up questioningly, and Dayeon practically jumps when she meets his gaze.

“So, how old are you?” Dayeon blurts out the first question that comes to mind.

“Me? I'm seventeen…”

Dayeon gasps, a pleasantly surprised smile blooming. “You're my age.”

“R-Really? We're the same exact age?” Isak looks up, shocked, like he’s never spoken to another person the same age before.

“Yup, I’m seventeen years old too!” Dayeon beams. “Let’s speak comfortably now!”

“O-Okay. Do what you want…”

Dayeon looks at the kimbap he’s eating longingly. She’s feeling kind of hungry right now, but it would be rude to eat the food she had bought for Isak when he was likely much more hungry than she was. Isak notices her staring and nudges a kimbap towards her with a slight smile.

“You’re from overseas, right?” Dayeon asks, gratefully taking the kimbap from him.

“Yeah, I’m traveling right now.”

“With your friends?”

“By myself.”

“By yourself?” Dayeon exclaims, far too loud.

Isak flinches. “Y-Yeah.”

Dayeon had to physically bite back the concerned questions rising up from her tongue. Why on earth was a kid her age traveling all alone? Where was his family?

(Who even was he?)

“Oh wow. You’re traveling all alone? How many countries have you been to?” Dayeon asks once she’s sure the concern won’t leak into her voice. At least her question is genuine in its awe and curiosity.

“I dunno, I never counted, but probably over twenty countries…” Isak trails off and shrugs, obviously relieved she isn’t pressing his traveling alone-ness.

“Whoa… you must really like to travel,” comments Dayeon.

“Not really, I just sort of ended up with this job where I usually have to travel to different countries to complete different assignments.” Isak fiddles with the cap of his soda, and Dayeon clocks in on the nervous gesture instantly.

(Not telling the full truth, then. Hiding something.)

“What about you?” Isak asks, and Dayeon snaps out of it.

“Huh?”

“You seem really interested in going abroad. Your eyes lit up,” says Isak, then seems to immediately regret admitting to paying that much attention to her. His face turns bright red, and he stutters, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright. You’re right anyway,” Dayeon laughs good-naturedly. “What person wouldn’t like to travel to other countries? I’ve stayed in Korea my whole life. I’ve never even left Seoul.”

“Why not?” Isak asks curiously.

Dayeon shrugs. “Money expenses, mostly. Going abroad is pretty expensive, and I don’t have that kind of money.” She thinks of the first time she and Yeona had met up after she’d returned from America and how she had devoured the stories Yeona had from overseas. She had brushed off the question of wanting to study abroad, but secretly, in the darkest corner of her heart, she wanted to go.

But then if she did, her grandpa would be all alone… and Ijin too…

“Not to mention, my family’s here. I would get homesick.” Her lips curl in a slightly wry smile. Maybe she just wasn’t meant for traveling.

“Oh,” says Isak quietly. He looks like he wants to say something else, but ultimately stays silent.

Dayeon studies him for a bit. He looks lost in thought, forlorn, and runs his slender finger around the soda can again and again. Strangely enough, she finds that she doesn’t like that expression on him.

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“You must speak a lot of different languages if you're traveling all over the place,” says Dayeon. “You’re Korean is very good. How long have you been studying?”

The boy flushes but can’t hide the proud smile on his face. “A few months.”

“A few months?” Dayeon splutters, and the boy laughs.

(He has a nice laugh.)

“Yeah. I also speak English, Mandarin, and Arabic. I know a bit of Spanish, too. And—” he cuts off when he sees the slack-jawed look on her face and laughs again.

“You know that many languages?” Dayeon stutters, disbelief written all over her face. "And you learned Korean in just a couple of months? How is that even possible?”

“To be fair, I knew a bit of Korean before I started to learn it. There were a couple of Korean missionaries in the place I grew up, and I had a… friend, who spoke it when we first met, so I sort of understood the basics. To be honest, the one who knew the most Korean was my broth—”

Isak stops, his smile freezing as his fingers tighten around the soda until indents appear in the metal. He suddenly looks lost, red-colored eyes flickering, and biting down on his lip so hard she’s surprised it’s not bleeding.

Dayeon swallows; a sudden knot in her stomach.

Oh. She’s hit a sore spot, hasn’t she?

“I’m sorry,” she offers, quietly. She recognizes that grief-look on his face.

The boy snaps his eyes up, looking like he is about to snarl, ‘What does sorry even do?’ when he sees her eyes and realizes how genuine she is; how honest. She knew, better than anyone, that sorrys couldn’t take back the time spent in pain from loss. But as she grew older, she realized that people said them because they were offering condolences, showing their sympathy, offering support to ease the burden of grief. It wasn’t to make them magically feel better, it wasn't meant to do anything, it was—

It was just meant to tell them, subtly, that they cared.

He nods, and the grip on his can slowly relax. Silence grows between them, and she feels awkward and guilty for being the cause of it.

“So how long will you be in Korea?” Dayeon asks.

Isak pauses, a strange expression crossing his face. “... Until I'm done with things here,” he says, like something final.

Dayeon can sense the undercurrent of something but decides not to press it. “I see. You must be staying nearby since I ran into you again.”

“No, I just had something to take care of here… but I guess you live around here?” He suddenly straightens, eyes wide as a hand covers his mouth. “Ah, that's a rude question, isn't it?”

Dayeon laughs. “No it's not. My school is nearby—”

The next following moments happen in the span of three seconds.

Dayeon screams as out of nowhere Ijin tackles Isak, sending the food tumbling to the ground and the table flying as they grapple.

In the blink of an eye, Ijin snatches a single chopstick and tries stabbing it into Isak's eye. Isak grabs his wrist, barely blocking it, and Ijin snatches another chopstick with his other hand and slashes at him. Isak twists his neck to dodge, releasing his grip. The air shrivels up in her lungs when Isak kicks Ijin right in his broken ribs. Ijin falters with pain, and Isak is able to push him off and spring to his feet, her brother doing the same.

Dayeon’s feet are frozen to the ground. The whole fight happened so fast, and it was lethal. If Isak hadn’t dodged the slash to the neck, it would’ve hit an artery.

Ijin would’ve killed him.

Over her brother's shoulder, Dayeon meets Isak's eyes wildly. His eyes flicker to her before turning back to Ijin.

And then he begins speaking in a foreign language.

Dayeon feels her heart stop.

The language is guttural, tongue-twisting, and undeniably unlike any language Dayeon has ever heard. But she recognizes it. She recognizes it because she’s heard it before.

(Yeona’s kidnappers spoke it. That blond foreigner man spoke it.

Ijin spoke it.)

Dayeon finally finds her voice.

“Ijin?”

They both stop.

“Ijin, what are you doing here? What's going on?” Dayeon says desperately.

Ijin doesn't turn to look at her. “You should get out of here, now.”

“Huh? What do you mean…” Dayeon's voice drifts off as she notices the dangerous look in his eyes. He's looking past her, right at Isak, like he’s a threat, like he’s dangerous. She recognizes that look… it was the same one he had worn when he rescued her from Yeona’s kidnappers.

Cold and ruthless, just like how he fought.

Dayeon's eyes drop down to his shirt, and to her horror she sees it bloodied, his side slashed. Was he stabbed?

“Ijin, you're bleeding…” she whispers.

“You two… know each other?” A voice breaks through her panic, and she turns to see Isak staring at them.

“Huh? He’s my brother.”

“As in…”

“My older brother.” Dayeon says.

Isak struggles to keep his face from showing anything and fails spectacularly.

“I'm sorry, he's not usually like this. There must be some sort of misunderstanding…” Dayeon falters off when she sees the look on the boy's face. It's harsh and disbelieving. The boy looks nothing like the one she'd been happily chatting with a minute ago, and it makes Dayeon come to a chilling realization.

Right. How well can she know a boy she only met a day ago?

Ijin moves in front of her, protecting her. “Can you give us a moment, Dayeon?” He speaks up.

Dayeon jolts. “Huh?”

Ijin stares at the boy, hard and intense as he glares right back. She can feel a fight rearing up, the tension crackling in the air.

Dayeon wants to say no. She wants to argue. But as she gazes between the two of them, she knew she had no place here.

“… Okay.”

Dayeon walks off the porch, her heart racing and legs numb as she leaves the two of them standing there. Even though they’re busy glaring at each other, she can still somehow feel their eyes burning into her back until she rounds the corner of a building and leaves their sight.

As soon as she does she doubles over, gasping. Her heart is pounding out of her chest and her legs are weak and shaking.

The fighting skills. The mannerisms. The foreign language. The tattoo.

This boy was a part of Ijin’s past.

And she had left him alone with him.

Dayeon pokes her head out from the pillar she is hiding behind. Right now, her brother and the boy aren't currently fighting, but if they did, Dayeon had one hand on her cell phone, ready to call the police. While she doubted they could do anything, at least it would break up the fight and send the boy running.

Ready to duck if they looked her way, Dayeon watches as the tension slowly works its way out of the atmosphere. Suddenly, Ijin bends down… and starts picking up the trash? Dayeon blinks, hardly able to believe her eyes as the boy he had previously tried to murder, the one who had been glaring daggers at her brother like he was his most hated enemy, bent down to help him.

Dayeon gapes, rubs her eyes, and wonders if she’s dreaming.

The two finish cleaning, and the boy begins walking away before he suddenly looks up— and meets her eyes. Dayeon startles, and even he looks surprised. Ijin joins the boy, and they exchange a few words before Ijin makes his way towards her while the boy hangs back.

Dayeon hurries over to Ijin. “Are you okay?” She asks urgently.

Ijin looks down at her, at the worry pouring off her in waves, and softens. “I'm fine,” he says.

“Is… he okay?” Dayeon glances at the boy, who is anxiously hovering a few feet away. He jumps when he meets her eyes.

“ … Yes. You don't need to worry, Dayeon,” says Ijin.

“Good. Then I want to talk to him.” She looks up at Ijin boldly. “Alone.”

Her brother looks like he's about to argue before he stops. He takes in the stubborn set of her shoulders and the way her lips draw into a firm line and knows there's no dissuading her.

Dayeon takes a deep breath, looks over at the boy, and refuses to show her nerves. He was fine. She was fine. Ijin wouldn't allow him near her if he was going to attack her, nor would he be acting all buddy-buddy if they weren't friends.

Dayeon slowly approaches the boy, giving him plenty of time to panic.

“So.” Dayeon says. Just because he and Ijin were on good terms now doesn't mean she's about to go easy on him.

“So.” The boy echoes. He looks mildly afraid of what she's about to say next.

“Would it be wrong of me to assume that you were the one who stabbed my brother?” Dayeon goes right for the throat.

The boy pales. “Um—”

“And would it be a shot in the dark to assume that your business in Korea has suddenly ended and you have to leave?” Dayeon arches her brow.

The boy looks like he quite possibly wants to die on the spot. Dayeon wonders if it's possible for the blood to both rush to your face and leave it at the same time.

“I—I'm sorry,” the boy blurts out almost desperately. His hands wring nervously. “It was a misunderstanding.”

Dayeon says nothing but shows that she's listening. The boy continues rambling. “I thought— I thought your brother had something to do with my brother, and I was angry and impulsive, so I came here without thinking. But it turns out I was wrong and my brother is alive. But, um— I'm sorry for attacking your brother. And dragging you in it. It was— I didn’t mean for it to happen.” The boy’s eyes are wide and sincere as he fumbles through his apology.

Dayeon studies him for a long time. “... I believe you,” she says, and means it. From the look on the boy's face, she can tell he's surprised she does too.

“I just have one question,” she says, and he tenses. “Your name.”

“Huh?”

“The name you gave me. Isak. Was it your real name, or a fake one?”

The boy stares at her.

Dayeon had just blurted out the question and now immediately felt embarrassed under the boy’s gaze. Heat rises to her cheeks.

Well, too late to take it back now.

To be honest, Dayeon wasn't really sure why she asked that. She has lots of questions, and he likely had lots of answers. She doubted he would have told her the full truth, but the point is that she could have asked him anything.

But for some reason, the only thing she can focus on is his name.

(She knew, vaguely, that names were important where they came from. It was the only thing that couldn't be taken away from them.)

The boy stares at her, studying, suspicious, like he is trying to see if she has any ulterior motives. Dayeon keeps her eyes genuine and posture open, letting him see she isn’t hiding anything. Her heart is beating rapidly, and she’s strangely nervous, but she hopes he can see her.

Finally, he relaxes, and a small smile crosses his face. “Yeah, it is.”

“Really? That's your real name?” Happiness bursts from her chest.

“Yeah,” Isak smiles.

(He has a nice smile, too.)

“Right.” Dayeon sighs and leans back on her heels. “Well, that's all I wanted to ask. Thank you for answering my question… Isak.”

“No problem… Dayeon.” Isak turns scarlet when he says her name.

“Good luck in whatever you have to do,” says Dayeon. “And take care.”

“Thank you,” replies Isak. He hesitates, then almost sheepishly, adds “... you too.”

Dayeon beams.

Ijin approaches, and Isak jumps in what looks like fear and before backing up from her. Dayeon raises a hand to wave goodbye, and with a small smile hidden under his cap, Isak does the same.

Now for Ijin.

“So you two knew each other?” Dayeon asks once Isak leaves.

Ijin jumps. “Yeah.”

“Then why were you so harsh earlier?” Dayeon watches him closely. She knew she had said not to ask anything about his past, but she wasn’t really breaking her promise. He had attacked a kid out in the open and then made up with him in the next ten minutes. Surely he was expecting her to ask some questions about that?

But she had literally seen him try to stab someone’s eye out with a chopstick, so she was curious about what kind of excuse he would come up with—

“I thought some weird guy was hitting on you because you are pretty,” Ijin whips out, cool as can be.

Dayeon’s jaw drops. “What?”

She stares at Ijin.

Ijin stares back.

They both just stood there, staring at each other blankly for what feels like forever.

“Let’s just… let’s just go back home,” Dayeon manages faintly.

“Alright. Are you going to tell Grandpa about this?”

“Only if you don’t let me stitch up that wound, I will.”

***

It isn’t until much later when it hits her.

After Dayeon had done an appropriate amount of fussing over Ijin’s wound and had cleaned and bandaged it before he had kindly but firmly kicked her out of his room so he could brood, she was sitting in her room contemplating the day.

Meeting Isak had revealed a lot about Ijin and his past today. She closes her eyes, her thoughts flying around like a whirlwind in her brain: comrades and numbers and fighting; quick-to-kill hands, secret names, and tattoos. Even though there was animosity, it’s clear there’s some sort of innate trust in each other. Bonds are hard to break, after all.

That blond man that came before Isak— he’s another one of Ijin’s old comrades. Yet when they saw each other, they were eyeing each other like predators ready to kill one another instead of friends. Old comrades — friends — but ready to kill each other on a moment's notice.

(Who’s notice?)

Dayeon sighs and opens her eyes. It seems the more conclusions she comes to leave more questions to be answered. It feels like there is a string being drawn in her chest, slowly becoming tighter and tighter the more Ijin’s secrecy piles up. She fears one day it might snap, and whatever emotions she has carefully stored away will come breaking out.

Dayeon absently scrawls 032 in her notebook. She wonders if he’s somehow managed to leave the country yet, or if he’s still in the city. It would be hard to leave Korea without any money—

Her brain screeches to a halt. Wait. He didn't have any money. He was broke. Which means he likely wouldn't be able to eat for who-knows-how-long again.

Dayeon jumps to her feet and begins knocking on Ijin’s door frantically. “Ijin! Ijin, open up!” She whispers.

After a moment, he pokes his head out, dressed in new clothes. “Dayeon? What is it?”

“We need to go to the convenience store. Now.” She says urgently. “Do you have your wallet?”

To his credit, Ijin doesn't question her even though he looks extremely confused. He nods, and soon he and Dayeon are on their way to the convenience store by their apartment.

“Why are we going to the store in the middle of the night?” Ijin asks.

“Your friend,” Dayeon begins, and ignores the way he subtly tenses. “He's broke. I forgot to mention it to you, but that's the reason you found us eating together. He was starving so I offered to pay for his food.”

Whatever Ijin is expecting her to say, it certainly isn't that.

“Oh,” he says. “You gave him food?” For a split-second she can see fondness for his old comrade — no matter what history there was — play on the shadows of his face.

“Yeah. And we’re going to buy him food now. Do you have any idea where he’s staying?”

“A couple but…” Ijin hesitates. “You can’t come.” It might be dangerous, is what’s left unsaid, and she doesn’t argue.

“So I won't be able to see him again?” Dayeon asks. “That's too bad. I thought he was pretty cute.”

Ijin trips on the curb as they enter the convenience store.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Dayeon laughs at the scandalized expression her brother wears as he buries his face in his hands. He looks like he regrets this entire conversation. Dayeon flits around the store, grabbing food and drinks from the shelves like a storm. Ijin watches her and pulls out his wallet when she joins him by the cashier.

The lady begins scanning and bagging the items and Dayeon’s hand lingers on one of the packages. It's one of the meals she had spotted Isak wanting, but didn’t buy because she was paying.

Dayeon stares at the packaged meal, and in a split-second decision, digs into her bag and pulls out a sticky note. Ignores Ijin, who has given up all pretenses of busying himself with paying and is blatantly staring, and writes down a note.

Dayeon caps the pen, forces down her embarrassed hesitation, and smooths the sticky note down on the plastic. She fixes Ijin with a stern look. “No. Peeking.”

“What’s so important about that note that I can’t even see it?” Ijin scowls— no, sulks.

“It’s nothing,” Dayeon says quickly. “Really. Just… an inside joke.”

Ijin raises an eyebrow about that, likely wondering how Dayeon and Isak had gotten around to sharing inside jokes, but thankfully doesn’t press the issue.

The woman who was checking out their items — and Ijin, by default — looks jealous of her boldness.

Dayeon avoids each of their gazes.

***

Isak finally threads the last stitch through his flesh and gasps in pain. It’s been around half an hour since 001 had come and saved his life, and he had finally managed to patch up all the injuries Aiden had left him.

He eyes his blood-soaked hoodie crumpled in a corner and scowls. Aiden, that bastard; that was his favorite hoodie. Blood took forever to get out. That coward had almost managed to bring him down with an ambush— if he had fought him head on, there was no chance the mercenary would’ve been able to land as many hits as he did.

He pants, giving himself a moment to calm his heart and settle his thoughts. He had to get back to The Camp quick, before whatever assholes they sent next decided to fuck him up even more. He is in no condition to fight, and the thought of moving caused him physical pain right now, but he has to get out of here before whatever shady cleanup crew 001 got his hands on in this country came over.

Isak eyes the plastic bag on his right. 001 had said his sister had told him he was broke and had bought him food.

… Maybe he can stay for a quick meal. Now that the immediate danger is gone and his pain has subsided into a dull ache, he’s actually feeling kind of hungry. 001 had already dragged Aiden’s ass out of his hideout, and it would take some time before someone came to clean up the evidence. He has time.

With a groan, Isak reaches over and hooks his fingers into the plastic to drag it forward. The bag is bulging with the amount of food stuffed into it. Isak roots through the packages and recognizes some of them as the food he had been eyeing at the convenience store when he was with 001’s sister.

His fingers brush against something odd. Frowning, Isak pulls out a plastic package of food— with a sticky note attached. He peels off the note.

Don’t forget kindness is free, but if you really want to pay me back, then remember to come back and say hello!

— Dayeon

He can’t help but laugh. He laughs until his ribs hurt; until he’s breathless and his cheeks ache from grinning ear to ear.

Holy shit. That girl is something else.

From the very beginning she’s made an impact on him; he doubts he can ever forget her if he tried. She paid for his food when he was starving— and went even more by leaving every piece of money in her wallet for him because she knew he needed it more than she did.

When they met again, she was still kind, still caring: offering him companionship, sympathy, care— even though they were practically strangers. He thinks of her kindness that is so rare from where he’s from, her knowing eyes, her secret smiles.

It was so weird; in the short time they met, he’d been so aware of her. She had gotten him to let his guard down in such a short period of time; she’d gotten him to talk about his childhood, about his brother—

Even when he had almost fucked up and killed her brother, she gave a chance to explain himself and apologize— and she accepted. She forgave him, and now, was leaving him with a final gift.

Haven’t you ever heard the saying kindness is free?

He rubs his thumb over the ink on the sticky note. He still didn’t believe that, still believed that kindness can still be used as a way to stab someone in the back, but—

He guesses with Dayeon, it might be true.

***

Of butterflies and roses

Summary: Drew hadn't fallen for May first; he been struck, curious about this doe-eyed girl in a bandana — distracted, fumbling, so very nervous —and her Beautifly. Drew liked to pay attention to people, how they got to who they were. It helped him in contests, to weed out who would be the real competition. Drew saw May playing with her little frisbees and thought, “She wouldn’t make it.

But now — now, Drew leaned forward and stared as May stumbled onstage and proceeding to blindside the audience with her plastic frisbees; with five Stringshots, a Gust, and one beautiful Silverwind.

A small smile made its way onto his face.

“Huh, what do you know?” Drew said to himself. “That wasn’t too bad at all.”

***

Or: a love story about surprises and realization

***

When Drew first sees May playing on the beach with her plastic pink frisbees he thought she was a joke.

Contests were a serious thing and they weren’t for the faint of heart. Drew has seen many bright-eyed amateurs bounce on stage to perform their shallow appeals before running off in tears when they lost. Drew knows this girl will be no different.

Because her idea of an appeal was pathetic and lame. Her performance lacked flair and finesse, and was much too shallow. She had no style, baseless confidence, and her naïveté was going to get her as far as her performance will.

Beautifly sends a Gust at the frisbees, and the girl daintily catches two of them on a spin as her friends cheer.

Drew watches in amusement as the third sails right over her head and catches it.

***

The girl passes the appeal round and is matched up with Drew right off the bat.

After their first meeting, she is determined to beat him and win the contest, and Drew scoffs at the fairy tale. He has more experience than she could ever hope for under his belt, and he can’t wait to beat her.

In the end, he leaves her in tears on the stage. She’s slumped to the ground by her Beautifly, her lips pressed into a wobbly line as tears glass her eyes. Drew gets a sudden sense of deja vu as he stares at her; he’s reminded of his first loss — his very first loss against Solidad. He remembers the feeling of defeat and devastation and turns away.

At least in his first contest he made it into the finals. With her, it seems like she barely trained for the battle round at all. (He is a little bit disappointed — he was hoping she would put up as much of a fight as she did their first battle.)

With this loss, Drew would see what type of person May would be.

Would she give up like many others have when they faced him, or would she stand up and try again?

***

Drew takes his loss against Robert hard, but moves on by training harder and winning another contest. He tells Solidad about him in one of their weekly calls, but carefully leaves the girl he’s met out of it. He still hasn’t decided on what type of trainer she is, and there will be no point in telling Solidad about her if she never shows her face again after defeat.

He spends his time training Roselia and Trapinch, searching for a new partner for his team, and winning himself another ribbon before heading to Fallarbor Town for a contest. He’s heard the competition is going to be steep.

Occasionally, he thinks of the girl in the bandana and her Beautifly, but it’s a thin, fleeting thought he easily dismisses in his busy days.

***

When Drew sees her training in Fallarbor Town, he feels something startling and surprising in him. His eyes are immediately drawn to her and he can’t help but make his way over to her to tease her about her botched up combinations — (because really, how can a coordinator not know about combinations?)

Based on their first meeting, May doesn’t like Drew. He’s arrogant and criticizes her and offers nothing good to say about her combinations. Drew shows off his newly acquired ribbons and tells her she has no shot of winning a competition this steep.

He walks away, mouth uncurling into a grin and hopes the fire he’s sparked in May will be enough to make this contest a memorable one.

***

It's Drew who loses in the Fallarbor Contest, and normally he would be upset about that if it weren’t for the fact of who won.

May won the Fallarbor Contest, and with nothing but her own skill and talent. She took the same combinations he made fun of and turned them into something elegant and powerful. She and Beautifly beat Grace and won the ribbon — her very first ribbon — and May’s never looked more alive and in sync with her Pokémon.

Drew feels reluctant admiration, pride, and (strangely) joy press into his gut and leave a tingling sensation throughout his body.

May finally did it; and although Drew still thinks that she wouldn’t have been able to beat him if they were paired up in the first round, her fight against Grace almost deserves a congratulations.

***

It was Roselia’s idea to keep giving May roses, and Drew went along with it. He doesn’t know why exactly, but Roselia is very intuitive and reminds him of Solidad, who is spending her off-season in Kanto training.

He feels like the roses are falling into some sort of routine of theirs, and strangely enough, Drew likes it enough to not want to think about what it means.

“I suppose this rose is for Beautifly, right?” May spins the flower between her fingers and teasingly asks. Her smile is light and playful and Drew feels his stomach suddenly knot in on itself at the sight. He’s not quite sure what to think of that.

“Yeah, something like that.” He keeps his response vague and puzzling before turning away before she realizes that the rose is just as much for her as it is her Pokémon.

***

Drew starts to talk about her to Solidad at around the second contest she wins. That’s two times May has defeated somebody who has beaten Drew, and he is fascinated. He talks to Solidad about their first meeting, how she totally blindsided him with the sudden Silverwind in their first battle. He talks about the first contest she won, the Pokémon she used, and is completely, totally, utterly unaware of the knowing look Solidad has in her blue eyes.

“Looks like you have yourself a rival, Drew,” she interrupts with a grin.

Drew scoffs. How can May ever be his rival?

***

It’s a while before he sees May again, but almost against his will he keeps his ear against the ground for her. He hears she wins the Lilycove Contest and the Purika Contest — after a bit of difficulty, apparently — but hasn't heard anything else.

It’s six weeks until the Pokémon Grand Festival and Drew is just out training his Masquerain when he hears someone call his name. He turns around to see May and her friends waving at him so he makes his way down the cliff to them.

May shows off her four ribbons and informs him that she’ll be entering the Pacifidlog Contest with the same happy-go-lucky smile and bright blue eyes. And because Drew doesn’t not like how she looks at him and he doesn’t like how he doesn’t like it, he makes fun of her enough to challenge him to a battle. It doesn’t get far before a trio calling themselves Team Rocket burst from the ocean and proceed to vacuum them into a giant mechanical Magikarp before exploding.

This is what he gets for spending time with May, Drew thinks as he stares out at the foggy ocean. He and May had woken up on the beach alone, together, surrounded by wreckage and with no idea where the others were. Thankfully, Roderick comes and saves them from their incessant bickering, and they set off to find May’s friends.

Admittedly, Drew is a bit excited to have landed on Mirage Island of all places. Few people have managed to set foot on the land, and it was crawling with liechi berries. That’s why when Drew finally spotted them so close to the cliff, he wasn’t as careful as he could've been.

The earth gives out beneath their feet and as they’re falling the only thought Drew has in his mind is that he’s probably going to die. May grabs onto Bellsprout’s vine, and Drew can tell as she grasps his hand that it's not going to save them.

May’s grip slips and they both hit the water, hands still firmly locked with each other. The current rips them apart and Drew desperately surges to the surface, gasping for air.

“May!” He calls, using whatever air he has left in his lungs. The water is stinging his eyes and roaring in his ears, but he’s still desperately searching for the brown-haired coordinator.

He spots her up ahead, choking on the spray of water and being submerged again and again before Drew swims forward and grabs her arm. Her blue eyes find his green ones, and they’re big and wide and scared as she fights against the current. They struggle to stay above water, Drew trying to support May as much as he can before they hear Roderick’s yell above the buffeting waves: “There’s a waterfall dead ahead!”

Fear freezes his veins. If they weren’t going to die, then they certainly would now. There isn’t any time to think straight before it’s on them, but May tightens her grip on Drew as panic seizes them both and Drew clutches her wrist as hard as he can before they go over.

They slam against the bottom, the impact sweeping them apart before Drew falls unconscious.

When he wakes up it’s nighttime, but the first thing he sees is May’s worried face and big blue eyes. She’s crouched over him, and when he opens his eyes her face breaks out into a big, relieved smile. Drew doesn’t know what happened or where he is, but he does know his heart is doing acrobatics in his chest right now and he feels dizzy with the knowledge that May probably saved his life before the Wynaut did.

The Wynaut are nice and thoughtful for wild Pokémon, and with them Drew and May find themselves becoming more at ease from their near-death experience. May releases all her Pokémon and goes to play with the Wynaut while Drew sits to the side and watches with a small smile on his lips.

The May in front of him right now is totally unencumbered and free. Her smile is big and her laugh is bright and for the first time Drew is able to see her in the light that she is a girl, not just a coordinator. This is the first time they are together outside the context of contests, and that means that the girl he is looking at right now is the real May. Normally when they met May would put up a front and talk all big for the sake of their rivalry, but not now. Now, she is completely natural.

Almost against his will, Drew feels a powerful emotion grow inside him as he watches her.

***

May has grown — slowly and steadily, with the help of her friends and Pokémon. Drew sees her start to win contests, learn strategies, her trust in her Pokémon becoming more prominent with every move she calls.

Alongside his admiration, there is something new and exciting that pulse in his veins now, and it makes Drew determined to win. Solidad calls it competition from across the phone line in Pewter City, and Drew actually feels like laughing.

Because, him? Competitive about May? It hasn’t been that long since she was stumbling through coordinating and trying to figure out combinations. But then, he realizes, it has.

May has grown into coordinating, training her partners and catching new Pokémon. Drew thinks that she can make it into the Grand Festival, and looking deeper, he thinks that he wants to face her there.

Drew knows that Solidad can see the realization on his face and quickly hangs up before she can tease him.

His Vibrava had evolved into a Flygon a while ago, and Drew has a sudden idea about who he wants him to train for.

***

It’s not a surprise to see her at the Grand Festival, but Drew is never going to admit it. May lights up when she spots him and is quickly running towards him with a bright smile. Her enthusiasm makes him smile and as she snatches his rose almost petulantly, he feels the strange emotion bubble up again.

Unfortunately, Harley shows up and May is instantly swept up with his bravado and false promises. Drew already knew she trusts easily and is unfalteringly kind, but Harley was pushing it and May is totally unaware. She almost blows her chances at competing in the Grand Festival battle rounds.

Frustration bubbles up, and Drew knows it’s unreasonable, but May doesn’t get it. She’s made it all the way here, and she was talented, but she still doesn’t get it. To be a coordinator one had to trust in themselves and their Pokémon, and find their own style to make their own Pokémon’s appeal shine through.

And May didn’t get it.

Fortunately for her, she manages to impress the judges enough to pass the appeal round and win her way through the battle rounds — until she’s matched up with him. They face off against each other in the third round of the Hoenn Grand Festival; and as they stare each other down from across the pitch, Drew recalls their first battle. He hasn’t had a real contest battle with May since then, and although Drew knows how it’ll end he still wants to see how she’ll react.

Drew calls out Roselia and Flygon. May’s never seen his Pokémon before, and when he tells her that he raised his Flygon specifically to battle her he can tell she is both flattered and scared.

Drew makes the first move and the battle is on.

***

In the end, it isn’t Drew’s time as Robert comes out on top in the Grand Festival Finals, but it was a good battle and Drew gave it his all. He learned a lot from battling Robert and was already coming up with combinations for next year.

He impatiently waits his way through the closing ceremonies and as soon as the party starts he disappears to the beach to practice with his Pokémon. They train for about an hour before someone stumbles upon them, and Drew turns when he realizes it’s May.

She’s confused about why he’s still training and Drew is reminded that it is her first season of coordinating. He gives her advice before heading on his way, but can’t help but leave her with one last thing.

“I’m hoping to see you back here next year too, May,” he says. “You were good.”

She stares at him, gaping slightly. (Has he really never complimented her before? It seems like she takes up most of his thoughts to not have.) Her sapphire eyes are wide as the seabreeze tousles her hair. He’s suddenly aware of the waves crashing against the shore and the stars shining in the night sky. Drew can barely hear the sounds of the party drifting towards the beach.

For such an open space, it feels so entirely intimate in the moment. May looks beautiful in the moonlight, and the realization of what that means strikes him.

Drew walks away from her, feeling as though someone once so out of his reach becomes touchable for just a slither of time.

***

Drew goes to Kanto for the next contest season and is surprised to see May already there. She’s still as rose-scented, sun-kissed and vibrant as she was in Hoenn and Drew is unable to withhold the realization that he likes her. He really, really likes her.

The realization follows him throughout Kanto, so he throws himself into contests and combinations to avoid thinking about it altogether. His Pokémon notice, but Roselia is the only one who knows and Drew can sense her disapproval. He ignores it — they’re rivals above all and Drew values that — her — more than his feelings.

Still though, he can’t help but go see her. Drew knew so little about her. He could easily spot her voice out of a crowd, but he wanted to hear her stories. There was still so much to May that he didn't know. Drew never really minded being a mystery to the average person (sharing parts of himself was something he was naturally against), but with May he wanted her to know him.

He wondered if she had similar thoughts about him and if part of her wanted to know more.

Drew gathers his five ribbons and heads to the Grand Festival. He’ll see her there.

***

Drew meets up with Solidad the morning of the Grand Festival.

When they first met, Solidad had beaten him and Roselia in the final round of their first contest and then invited him out to lunch afterwards. Although Drew had his reservations, he still went.

Solidad explained that she had a season of experience over him, and that her battle with him had to be the most grueling one she’d ever faced. She was impressed with his performance and wanted to see him again in another contest.

As they competed together more throughout the season and their respect for each other grew, he started to open up to her more and meet up with her more often. It's only natural that Solidad is now his best friend.

They have run into each other a couple of times in Kanto, and had carefully shared contest information and have appropriately planned out their routes so they didn’t meet up at every contest. Still, Drew had looked forward to the towns where their paths were scheduled to cross.

“So, what did you think of May?” Drew asks a bit too casually as he sips his tea. He’s not really a fan of the taste, but Solidad loves it so he drinks without complaining.

“I like her. She’s really sweet and friendly. The total opposite of you,” she says with a teasing smirk.

“Uh huh, sure,” Drew rolls his eyes. “Do I even want to know what you two said about me?”

Solidad’s eyes twinkle. “That’s between girls only. Whatever May says is completely on her own volition.”

“Great. She’s definitely going to rub something in my face now.” Drew takes another sip of tea and struggles to not make a face. Solidad does the same, watching him with calm blue eyes.

“I’m a bit sad you haven’t introduced me to her earlier though,” she speaks up suddenly. “Seeing how much you talk about her. I can see why you like her.”

Drew chokes on his tea, and for once it wasn’t because of the taste.

Solidad knows. She's probably always known, Drew rationalizes, but the knowing smile the older coordinator wears cements the fact that nevertheless, Solidad knows.

But then again, if Drew had really wanted it to be kept a secret, he wouldn’t have introduced them in the first place. But Solidad was his closest friend and Drew liked May (enough to give her advice, give her roses) and he had wanted the two of them to meet.

“She — uh, I, uh — ” Drew stammers. He feels uncharacteristically embarrassed and it throws him off his game. “I — ”

“It’s okay, Drew.” Solidad thankfully cuts him off. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m actually glad you’ve found someone like May. She’s good for you.” Drew’s face burns and Solidad’s face softens as she observes his flustered reaction. “Just … don’t let your feelings get in the way of your performance, okay?”

Drew scoffs at the thought. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” he reassures her.

He may like her, but they're still rivals.

***

It’s a surprise when he sees Ash and Brock come to talk to him instead of Solidad, but figures she’s probably having a talk with May after he snapped at her.

Guilt twists in his chest as he thinks of her hurt expression before he ignores it and turns to face the sunset. Don’t let your feelings get in the way of your performance, Solidad had said. Drew internally scoffed. She should have said, “Don’t let her performance get in the way of your feelings.”

Seeing her perform with her Munchlax … it shook him. For so long, May had always been the one behind him, chasing after him. It didn’t hit him until today that … she can pass him. She can beat him.

She had changed; she was a threat. He had changed; he was no longer untouchable.

And that scared him.

“Look, I said it was on my mind, alright?” Drew snaps.

“I know that Drew,” Ash clambors down to join him. Pikachu hops down his shoulder.

“Solidad’s having a little talk with May right now. I think it would be a good idea to do the same thing,” Brock says. Drew hmphs.

“You know …” Ash breaks the silence, rubbing Pikachu’s head. “Watching you out there earlier made me think about all the rivals I’ve faced in battle over the years. I never talked to them about how they trained or anything.” Ash turns to face him. “We deal with that on the battlefield.”

Drew can’t help but stare, shocked at the comparison. It's no secret that a lot of competitive battlers don't take coordinators seriously. They saw it as more of a glorified beauty contest than showing off the strength of the Pokémon with appeal. Not to mention, coordinating was more seen as a feminine form of battling, with its emphasis on beauty and combinations.

For a while, Drew thought Ash was one of those battlers — that’s why he challenged him to a battle in Fallarbor Town. But no, Ash is here drawing comparisons from his battling to relate to coordinating. To him and May.

Ash and Brock are here, telling him in their own way that they understood him. That they took his side.

Drew relaxed. “I hear ya,” he chuckles. “We’re rivals, May and I.”

Somehow, that seems to sum up everything and nothing at all.

***

It’s the Kanto Grand Festival at the Indigo Plateau, and it's Drew up against May in the quarterfinals. He walks onto the stage and hears the cheers so loud it makes his ears ring. The atmosphere of the stadium is electric, and Drew keeps his head straight.

His eyes wander across the field to May and he sees the determined glint in her eyes that Drew knows is reflected in her own. Two years, two regions, and two talented coordinators.

They’ve been ready for this their whole lives.

***

In the end, it’s only one of them who can win, and after a long, grueling battle, the winner is decided.

The screams and cheers from the stadium are overwhelming so Drew closes his eyes and takes a breath, steadying himself.

The battle was incredible. May was incredible.

She is still standing there, staring up at the scoreboard in disbelief and unable to believe what it reads. She’s surprised, shaky from the battle, but happy-ecstatic and Drew is proud to have lost to her. It's been two years since they met, since he first saw her on the beach of Slateport City with her plastic pink frisbees, and since then she’s been surprising him ever since. They’ve both changed since they first met; the final battle an accumulation of everything they learned on their journey.

Absol slowly makes his way to him, head already bowed in defeat. His Pokémon took his losses harder than Drew did, but this time the trainer wasn’t feeling bad about this one at all.

Absol looks up in surprise when Drew reaches forward and rubs his head. “Thank you, you fought hard. You're the best, Absol.” Absol lights up at the praise, gratefully pressing his head into his hand.

Drew turns to notice May’s gaze on him, questioning and uncertain. She’s worried about how he’ll take the loss against her, and suddenly the feelings Drew has tried to keep from fully consuming his heart come forth.

It’s because she surprises him. She’s surprised him from the very beginning — from the first time they met, the first time they ever competed, the first time he truly saw her — and she kept on surprising him, whether it be her skill or her passion or her love towards people and Pokémon. Drew hadn’t fallen in love with May; he was struck, stunned by the care and awe he has for her. She completely blindsided him and turned his world upside-down. He never would have imagined that the girl he had met on the beach would turn into one of his greatest rivals.

Drew’s eyes soften, mouth pulling into gentle smile as he nods. It’s okay. He lost, but it was to May and he is okay with that because she more than deserves her victory. May beams at his approval, throwing her arm around Combusken in celebration.

Drew watches for a moment longer before closing his eyes and turning away, smiling.

***

Drew doesn't stick around after the festival. His bags are packed and he’s headed out. Drew has no new destination in mind, so he just travels around Kanto, exploring the parts he didn’t get to see before. He spends two months just wandering, training and discovering himself. His mind is on May, and coordinating, and on where to head next for the next Grand Festival.

Drew finds a beautiful lake — a glittering expanse of blue in front of him — with plenty of open space to practice some tricky appeals he has been working on. He calls out Roselia and Masquerain and they work on some doubles appeals for around an hour before Drew gives them a rest. Roselia wanders along the shoreline, looking happy and relaxed while Masquerain flutters around the lake.

Suddenly, to his surprise, Roselia runs towards her trainer, exclaiming happily. Drew blinks, alarmed, before he hears a familiar voice speak up behind him.

“Hey, Drew!”

Drew turns to see Solidad approaching with Slowbro, a smile on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Drew asks before he can stop himself.

Solidad laughs. "Jeez, it's nice to see you too."

Drew smirks and waves his hand at her. "You know what I meant."

"Well, am I not allowed to want to see you?” Solidad asks gently. “You practically ran away from the afterparty of the Grand Festival, and I’ve barely heard from you.” She settles on the grass right next to him as her Pokémon goes to greet his.

Drew runs a hand through his hair and winces. “Sorry. I've been busy.”

Solidad shakes her head. “Typical of you, isn't it? But don't you think you’ve trained enough?”

Drew shrugs and says nothing; she knows what his answer is. They both watch as Roselia comes forward and Solidad rubs her head. “So, have you decided on where to go from here?”

“I think I’ll head to the Johto region next.” Drew says. “What will you do?”

“Johto too, I think.” Solidad turns to meet his gaze. “Just because I became a Top Coordinator doesn’t mean I want to stop. I want to keep coordinating, traveling, and winning. I want to be a master coordinator and be accepted into the Ribbon’s Syndicate.”

Drew smirked and closed his eyes. “Yeah, you’re not the only one, you know.”

The Ribbon Syndicate was a big ordeal for coordinators alike. It was a private, special organization that only coordinators with a legendary status could call their home. Members would finally earn that sought after "Master" status and finally become a part of the world's elite, setting an example for all young coordinators alike.

Solidad smiles. It’s quiet for a while, both of them watching their Pokémon get along before she speaks. “I gave her your rose, you know. She caught you as you were leaving, right?”

Drew tenses, before he relaxes. “Yeah. Thanks for giving it to her. I … couldn’t give her that one in person.” It feels entirely too honest than he meant it to be, so he avoids Solidad’s eyes as she studies him.

When Drew had first given roses to May, it was a mocking. The flowers were filled with taunts about how her Pokémon were carrying her to victory. Then Drew had started to notice May, and his roses became fleeting — everyone knows what red roses meant. How could Drew give out roses when he didn’t even know who he was really giving them to?

But now this one was different. After everything — their fight, their battle, the final leg of their journeys — the rose held a different meaning now. It is a confession of his affection, respect, and awe for her.

It was the only genuine rose.

And they both knew it.

“Here,” Solidad holds out a shrunken Pokéball and Drew takes it. He glances down at it and blinks.

“This is Butterfree’s Pokéball,” he says, surprised. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Because you need it,” she says simply. “You’ve done enough reflecting, Drew. You need to get out of your head, and the best way to do that is with a new partner. He’s yours now.” She stands up as Slowbro wanders towards her and returns him.

“Where are you going?” Drew is still reeling.

“To Johto,” Solidad raises a brow as if to say ‘obviously’. “And you’re going to Fennel Valley.”

“What’s in Fennel Valley?” Drew is scared to ask.

“You’ll see.” Solidad smiles.

***

Drew does end up making his way to Fennel Valley and runs into May. As soon as he sees her, he understands why Solidad sent him here instead of going to the Johto region first.

Drew feels like he’s seeing himself a week ago. May is lost, out of sync, and confused. It’s a mental thing he’s seen in himself and other coordinators stuck in a rut, and Drew tries to pull her out of it.

He challenges her to a battle, his heart beating faster when he sees the fire relight in May’s eyes.

They’re talking outside later — May sitting beyond the fence while he leans against it — and Drew tells May he’s going to Johto. He studies her reaction, trying to see how she’s feeling, and watches her eyes lower as she leans against the fence with him. “It’s pretty there, right now,” she says.

Drew gazes at her. She’s looking at the sunset, how the pinks, reds, and golds reflect off the mountains. The sprawling region in front of them looks beautiful, but Drew can’t seem to take his eyes off May. There’s no moonlight this time — May’s dripping with the sunset glow, chestnut hair waving in the wind, azure eyes deep and Drew feels like his heart is going to crawl out of his chest looking at her.

He really, really loves her.

Harley interrupts, as he always does, and soon he and Drew have to leave. May calls out goodbyes behind him as he walks away, and Drew raises a hand in return.

Life insists on — they’re rivals, May and him. They will always come together. As frequently as roses bloom, they will meet each other, again and again.

Bury Me After I Fall

A suicidal person dangles their feet over a rooftop in the rain. They don't know if they jumped or not.

Liminal Space: occupying a position, or on both sides of, on the threshold of in between.

Purgatory: a place or state of suffering inhabited by the souls of sinners who are expiating their sins before going to heaven.

Chapter inspired by "i used to have nothing and then" by dirgewithoutmusic

"This wasn't real. They were either falling, or fallen. They weren't in heaven, or hell, but a space in between. When they hit the ground (had they hit the ground?) they knew what it would cost."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You didn't know what was going on.

You didn't feel themselves hit the ground — but all of the sudden, you were standing in an empty banquet hall with a mile-long oakwood table in the center, golden light glinting off the surface. There wasn't any sound except for your harsh breathing — residue from the adrenaline.

"Why are you here?"

The voice echoed from all around them. You turned, but didn't see anyone.

"Who's there?" You called. You spun again. "What's going on?" You blinked, breath faltering. "I — I died. I'm supposed to be dead." You blinked rapidly. "Why am I not dead?"

"Why are you here?" 

"I wanted to die," You said, simply.

"Why?"

"Why do you want to know?" You asked. "Are you God? Is this some sort of ... test?" You gazed at the hall. It seemed endless, stretching along towards the end of the horizon as strange gold light bounced off the banquet table.

"Why now?" 

"Because I wanted to."

The voice considered them. "Everything comes at a cost," it said. "But you already know that, don't you?"

You backed away as you were quickly swallowed by the plummeting darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You were born once, from a sixteen year old girl who committed an act she thought she was ready for. You were born in a cold hospital room, six pounds and eight ounces of screaming, quickly swaddled. Your mother wasn't ready, but she loved you even as she gave you up to the two husbands' in the room. The two men cried as they cradled their new child. They weren't blood, but they loved you. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You hit the ground, knees slamming on the cement. "Fuck."

Harsh sunlight beat down you as you took note of your surroundings. You were on a playground, with plastic slides and metal monkey bars and creaky swings. A huge tree stretched to the sky a little ways away.

You slowly rose to their feet, joints creaking. "What am I doing here again?" You asked.

Again. You knew this place. You’ve been here before. You grew up here.

You walked past the playground and made your way to the tree, touching the bark. The summer sun dripped through the shaded branches.

"A cost," the voice hissed. "A life." 

You startled as a dull thud came from the other side of the tree. A boy, not older than eleven, gripped strands of hair from a kid as he slammed their head into the tree. A sneer twisted his face as the kid trembled beneath him.

"A cost," you watched in horrified fascination as the voice pulled at the boy's mouth. "A life."

You stepped back out of range of the boy, feeling sick. "What are you doing?" You asked. "Stop it."

The boy took a step forward and you flinched back, instinctively. He stopped and stared at you with an unreadable gaze. "You're still running away?" He said. "Even when you're older and stronger than me?"

"Shut up." You snapped. "What is this? A test? A riddle?" You glanced down at your own frozen face, your younger self unaware of the conversation as your eyes burned holes into the ground.

The bully perked up. "You were always better at tests, weren't you?" He said. "That's why I was always so mad at you."

"Oh yeah?" You asked sarcastically, hurt and rageful as you stared at the bully that took up so many years and thoughts and days. The bully stared back at you, the pimples dotting his forehead shiny and raised. He seemed so small for someone who had such a huge impact on your life.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

"I am. I cried when I found out."

"Found out?" You repeated. Your heart pounded. How could your heart pound? You were dead. You weren't in heaven, or hell, but a space in between. You were either falling, or fallen.

This wasn't real.

The bully stared at you, and you stared back. Taking a step back, a tendril of darkness snaked around your ankle and yanked you down.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You were raised once, from two loving fathers who would take you in their arms and smother you with scratchy kisses. From lazy Sundays with buttery sunlight creeping through the window's blinds. With pancakes and orange juice while watching bad cartoons dance on the TV. From crushing hugs and you being tossed in the air as gravity took over and you landed in their arms. 

Your dads always caught you. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You slammed back into you body as you gasped, kneeling on all fours. Trembling, you scanned the room, the itchy red carpet underneath you biting into your palms and knees.

You looked down. A flimsy drawing looked back, waxy colors scrawled all over the paper as crayons littered the floor. You knew this drawing. You knew this room, this carpet, this house.

You knew what would happen.

Arms wrapped around your torso, and you resisted the urge to scream as an overwhelming perfume made you choke from behind. "A cost," your neighbor hissed. "A life." 

You wrenched yourself out of the neighbor's arms, stomach turning. Your dads' were on date night, and decided to drop you off at their neighbor's place. The husbands' didn't notice how the neighbor's smile turned sharp and her eyes landed on you. Goosebumps had exploded throughout your skin.

"You know what it feels like to be taken apart," said the voice. "You know what it feels like to become unmade." 

Your neighbor's eyes blazed with sinful intentions as she took a step forward, a saccharine smile on her lips as she —

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sky opened up as they dangled their feet over the roof of a building, rain pouring in sheets as it soaked their clothes. 

You hit the ground, and you were watching little kids running around, shrieking with joy as they ran over the place you were beat up yesterday —

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You hit the ground, and were immediately slammed into a brick wall by your classmates —

You hit — your grades were dropping, and anxiety tightened your heart as the teacher held you back after class —

Again — your dads' were disappointed, one angry, one worried, as they took away your belongings after dinner —

You hit the ground — it was a cycle, wasn't it? Kids laughed at you when you did good in school, beat you up, you dropped your grades, your dads' got disappointed, and then the sweet neighbor offered to give you tutoring lessons while your dads' had date night and —

"Why are you showing me this?!" You screamed as bloody spittle flew from your mouth after all the times you hit the ground. "My life was shitty, I know! I don't need to see it again, I know! Stop showing me this!" 

The voice paused, considered. Then darkness grabbed hold of your ankles and dragged you down.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You were born once, from the first time when you visited the relatives of your dads. Grandma kissed, cousins waved, and aunts and uncles hugged. 

Your dads laughed as you squirmed away and dashed off to play with the other children.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Everything comes at a cost. You know what it feels like to be taken apart. You know what it feels like to become unmade."

"Why are you here?"

"Why now?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You hit the ground, this time in soft green grass. It was early dawn, the sky opening a purplish-blue as the pale sun peeked over the horizon.

You turned to look at the house, and in the shadows of the porch, you could see your dads' lean in for a long kiss as they basked in the quiet.

You let your head tilt back for a moment, breathing.

This wasn't real. You were either falling, or fallen. You weren't in heaven, or hell, but a space in between. When you hit the ground (had they hit the ground?) you wouldn't land in a warm afterlife. These worlds God kept throwing you into were just painful memories that only solidified your reason for death.

Footsteps rustled through the grass behind you but you didn't move — just breathed in the sweet smell of wind and closed your eyes.

"Hey, kiddo," your dad said, sitting down beside you. Your other dad sat opposite of you.

Your throat suddenly clenched, burned. Your eyes stung. "Hey, dads'," You croaked. "I — hey."

"So ... what happened?" He asked after a beat of silence. You suddenly remembered his laughs, the way it would sneak past your bedroom door as you laid with closed eyes and bruised ribs, wondering if it would get better, wondering if you were ever going to be as happy as your parents.

"I couldn't do it anymore, dad," you choked. "I — I'm sorry. At school I could barely hide the bruises from you, and the neighbor — she just wouldn't stop, and I couldn't tell you because you were so happy. And I messed up your lives from coming home drunk and taking pills and doing cigarettes and —" I couldn't do it anymore. 

Your other dad looked at you sadly, an old look that you knew well. It was one of sorrow, of exhaustion and pain that weighed him deep in his bones as he looked at you when you came stumbling home after a night of shame.

"Why didn't you tell us?" He asked. "We could have talked about it ... given you therapy, meds. We could have talked to the teachers, and the parents of the kids, and had that neighbor arrested. We — we blame ourselves."

Your eyes blurred and you blinked rapidly as your dad's face swam into view. His broken look, his tearstained lashes, his red eyes. Grief was written on both your fathers' faces as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

Suddenly, your father's face shifted. "Everything comes at a cost," he said. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

His palm suddenly felt heavy on your shoulder as you whipped around to look at your other dad.

"A life," your other dad rasped.

"No," you jerked back away from your dads', suddenly angry. "No. You don't get to use them. You don't ever get to use them. Don't ever touch them."

Your fathers' faces twisted into confusion, frustration. "I — I am trying. To ask. Why are you here?" 

"I just told you — told them. I couldn't do it anymore."

"Why now?"

You didn't have an answer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The rain pours on the rooftop, dripping down the buildings as it washes into the sewers. They are coming apart at the seams, the stitches have been tearing for years. They know what it feels like to be taken apart. They know what it feels like to become unmade. 

You hit the ground, and the stinging alcohol sliding down your throat as buzzing lights danced under your closed eyelids. You wanted to forget, you wanted to be ok, you wanted — your locked eyes with a stranger across the room. You smiled.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You hit the ground, and you took the first drag of smoke, ash staining your mouth as you used one stick, then another, then another, until the whole pack was finished in a day. You wanted to die.

You hit — you swallowed pill after pill like it was candy behind your locked door, and when the capsule was empty you curled under the covers and waited as a sickening weight built up in your chest —

You hit the ground, and you slammed against the banquet table, gasping as vertigo made your head spin. Your limbs felt cold as the lead in your chest built up —

"You have done terrible things to yourself. You can never repent."

"They did this to me, they did it first," you gasped. You were drowning as your lungs filled with water. Images in their brain filled up — good times and bad.

Early in the morning, you sat with your dads as you watched the sunrise. Later that day, you were slammed into the playground tree for being better than their peers. Later in life, you popped your first pill, lit your first smoke, drank your first shot.

Your grandma gave you kisses on cheeks, your cousins still waved, aunts and uncles still hugged you. Your neighbor slid her hands along your body just like that stranger did. Sunday mornings with orange juice and pancakes and cartoons were replaced with hangovers as you stared at the top of a building and pretended to see the curve of the horizon.

"They hurt me first."

"They don't cancel each other out. Souls are never scrubbed clean, but can be overgrown."

"What are you trying to say?" You spat. "That I should've lived? That I should've dealt with it? It's too late, it was too late, it has been too late! I wanted to die, so I killed myself. I don't regret it, I'm just sorry for my parents." You clenched your fists. All you could feel is the cold in the warmly-lit room.

"You want time," said the voice. "You want to see your parents again."

"Of course I want to see my parents again." You said. "I love them. But —"

Instead of falling, images rose above you like smoke.

Your dads' pulled each other in for a kiss, murmuring about how much they loved each other. Your dads' woke you up at the crack of dawn to watch the sun rising for the first time, and it was one of the most favorite memories they had. Your dads' tossed you up, and you soared, before gravity quickly took over and your dads' caught you in their arms. Your dads' introduced you to grandma, to cousins and aunts and uncles. Sunday light crept through the windows and you toasted your orange juice to your dads' coffee.

"You will never get them back," said the voice. "But isn't that what you want? I will show you time." 

Your dads' pulled each other in for a kiss, murmuring about how much they loved each other in the early dawn.

Your dads' fell to your knees in grief and shock and horror, sobbing as men painted in red and blue lights wordlessly spoke of a suicide. Early sunrises were replaced with broken twilights as your dads found the pills, the bottles and the words on pages.

A man opened the news one day and recognized a classmate who killed themself. Horrified guilt made him weep tears of shame as he remembered how he slammed them into a tree for being better than him.

A neighborhood woman opened her door and was met with charges piled higher than her taxes as the police handcuffed her and dragged her to jail after years of freedom.

Your dads' walked up to a woman, a broken look in their eyes as they exchanged words and handed her a picture. The woman covered her mouth, stared at it blankly. You can only assume that this is the birth mother who was never a part of your life. Funny, you didn't even look like her. You must get you looks from your birth father.

Decades later, you watched as your dads' forgave themselves a little as they placed a white rose next to a wilted black one.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The rain washes the world clean. The showering pellets will wash the blood clean, pooling it into the gutters from when they jump. 

"Everything comes at a cost." Said the voice, but this time it sounded kind. "You know what it feels like to be taken apart. You know what it feels like to become unmade."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"What does this matter?" You said dully. "This isn't real. I'm already dead. I'm falling, or fallen. I'm not in heaven, or hell. I'm in something in-between."

"Do you want to die?" 

"Yes," You said. "But if I lived a different life, then no."

The voice paused, considered.

"I didn't want any of those shitty things to happen to me. I didn't want to get bullied, or touched, or hurt, or drugged, or anything. But what the hell does that matter? I'm already falling, or fallen. I'm already dead, or dying. I didn't want any of those shitty things to happen to me, but they did."

"It matters," whispers the voice. "That's what makes this a sacrifice." 

"I'm angry," you whispered. "No one should go through what I did. No one should feel what I felt. My parents —" you trembled.

"Be angry," said the voice. "I am."

That gives you more comfort than you thought it would. Your eyes stung with fury and hurt and sadness as your throat grew tight and your hands started shaking. "I didn't want to die," your voice broke. "I don't want to die. I just —" you sobbed, an ugly sound. "I just wanted it to stop."

The voice pauses, considering.

You don't fall, and the images don't rise, but suddenly your whole world went dark and you woke up in soft green grass as the early dawn opened the sky a purplish-blue as the pale sun peeked over the horizon.

You let your head tilt back for a moment, breathing, tears drying.

This wasn't real. You were either falling, or fallen. You weren't in heaven, or hell, but a space in between. When you hit the ground (had you hit the ground?) you knew what it would cost.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sky opened up as you dangled your feet over the roof of a building, rain pouring in sheets as it soaked your clothes. The rain pours on the rooftop, dripping down the buildings as it washes into the sewers. You are coming apart at the seams, the stitches have been tearing for years. You know what it feels like to be taken apart. You know what it feels like to become unmade. The rain washes the world clean. The showering pellets will wash the blood clean, pooling it into the gutters from when you jump. You gazed along the length of the building you had chosen, heart heavy as you hope that your dads' love you enough to forgive you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

hi, I read your post pokeguys with affection and as an ikarishipper I really liked the headcanon about them. Want read more of your headcanons about them😍

I sort’ve wanted to expand on this, so hope you don’t mind!

falling

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

When Dawn realizes that she loves Paul, she does not handle it smoothly. She panics, denies, and avoids the thought and subject entirely because how in Arceus’s name did she fall for him?

They were in a casual relationship. Paul was making his way to being Sinnoh Champion, and after her win as Top Coordinador she was getting more attention from the public.

Dawn had dated her fair share of guys before she got together with Paul, and even then, she knew she was quick to fall in love. She was always the first to give into feelings and pursue the relationship further.

When her and Paul started dating, it was an unspoken thing that it wouldn’t be serious. They both had things going on, and frankly, no one thought that they would last long. They were too different.

But now, a year into the relationship, and they were still together. They just seemed to fit; they worked on their differences and grew together, taking each day step by step. Paul opened up to her more than he did with anyone else, and Dawn was touched that he trusted her enough with his feelings. It seemed even Reggie didn’t know Paul as well as she does.

Paul may not be the most physically affectionate, but he was very observant. He gave her gifts that he knew she’d been eyeing, asked her how she was when she was having a bad day, gave good advice when she was having problems, and helped her when she needed it.

She liked when they went out on dates, how he seemed to remember things she said or did because they were important to her. How he shared his thoughts with her, because having feelings for someone and trusting them with their heart were two entirely different things.

And Dawn … Dawn loved him; from his ambition to his confidence to his dedication to reach his goal.

She loved that, and loved him — but she also knew his flaws. She knew that he would reject and pull away from anything that would take him away from his dream.

And it crushes her, knowing she wasn’t worth it. It hurts, having to bite her tongue if she feels an “I love you” bubble up.

Selfishly, Dawn keeps the realization to herself because she doesn’t want to scare him off.

So if her eyes shine brighter than normal whenever Paul wins a battle, or if her smile is wider than before when they kissed—

No one was none the wiser.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Surprisingly, Paul is the first one to say “I love you”.

It’s been two years since he and Dawn have started dating, and Paul was surprised that they lasted that long. They were too different, and Paul was shocked at how easily she slipped into his life. How easily he got used to her.

It was insane; Dawn had a smile that was as bright as her personality and eyes as expressive as her heart. Her encouragement made him believe and drove him to do better and her enthusiasm made him smile. Her sarcastic comebacks and snarky one-liners both amused him and drove him crazy. Her temper kept him on edge and her anger keeps him up for days on end.

Dawn was kind and compassionate and fierce and independent. She was confident and driven, and would stop at nothing to achieve her goal. He liked the small things about her: how she said no need to worry when there was a definite need to worry. How she was always smiling and bubbly, even if it was annoying. He even liked how she took her coffee, even though that amount of sugar she put should be illegal.

He never thought he’d fall for someone. He never even knew that these types of feelings existed.

Dawn is in his apartment after staying the night (he has no idea how that happened) making breakfast. She was humming to herself while she cooked as Paul sat at the counter and watched her.

It suddenly occurred to him as he watched her do little spins in the kitchen how much he liked this: Dawn in his kitchen, in his apartment, in his clothes as she spun around cheerfully; with her bright smile and her shining eyes and her messy blue hair.

He liked this, which was weird since Paul didn’t really like anything, but … he wanted this. Her, here.

“I love you.”

The words slip out before he even realizes it. They hang in the air, too late to take back or mull over. He says it like a realization, and it was— a realization that Dawn’s been in his life for so long and he doesn’t know what to do without her in it.

That he wants her in it.

Dawn drops the plate in pure shock. She whips around and stares at him. “What?” She laughs nervously, bending down to pick up the broken pieces of the plate. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? Cause I could have sworn that you said—”

“You didn’t,” he interrupted. “I love you.”

Dawn dropped the broken pieces of the plate.

Paul stares back, waiting.

He was nervous, Dawn realized. His eyes were wavering and he was fighting to keep his hands still and his shoulders were tense.

Something in her gut relaxes. Then we’re both in the same boat, she thought.

A pink blush climbs its way up her face. Her eyes shine and she smiles, not taking her gaze of Paul’s.

“I love you, too,” she says, finally.

Hey so like I recently started getting into ikarishipping and I found your stuff and like???? It's so good???? I need more???? I wanted to request more fluffy hcs and stuff for them, but I totally understand if you don't wanna

listen

Ok, I know this isn’t a headcannon but I was inspired to write this little fic about them, so hope you don’t mind. This was sitting in my drafts for so long now until I finally worked up the courage to get it done.

º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º

Dawn places the finishing touches on Piplup’s outfit, clapping appreciatively as her starter proudly strikes poses in his little cheerleader prince uniform.

“Let’s go show everyone your outfit!” Dawn picks up Piplup and beams as he chirps his agreement.

Dawn exits the room, heading out to meet Ash, Barry, and Brock to talk about the match today. It was the early morning of the Pokémon Sinnoh League, with Ash and Paul finally facing off. After a full year of battling and insults the two were about to meet in the semifinals.

Dawn makes her way down the hall, footsteps echoing. Ash against Paul … it would certainly be a battle to be remembered. It had been a long time since Lake Acuity. Since their very first battle. Ash and his team have only grown stronger since then, and so has Paul.

They all had.

“… I have one last thing to tell you,” a voice suddenly cuts across the lobby and turning around, Dawn gasps and ducks before Paul sees her.

Piplup turns around with a questioning “Pip?” and Dawn claps a hand over his beak. Piplup releases a silent squawk of rage before pecking her hand indignantly. Dawn shakes out her hand with a quiet hiss before pressing a finger to her lips and glaring in a ‘be quiet’ motion. Piplup glares right back before he settles down to eavesdrop. Dawn pokes her head over the counter to watch.

“Paul? Win this. Don’t underestimate Ash’s skill — then win the whole thing!”

Paul’s lips curve into a smile. “I will.”

Reggie hung up with a “Later, Paul,” before Paul turns around — only to meet Dawn’s startled blue eyes.

Dawn froze in embarrassment, a pink blush staining her cheeks once she realizes she’s been caught staring. Paul looks taken aback, staring at her with surprised onyx eyes.

Say something, stupid, her brain says as silence starts to creep between the two.

“Umm …” Dawn laughs nervously, and Paul turns on his heel and begins walking away. She nearly facepalmed herself. Really, that’s what she comes up with?

“That was Reggie you were talking to, right? So, is he coming here today?” Dawn hastily tries to cover up her lack of verbal skills by asking him a question, but she must’ve said the wrong thing because Paul begins walking faster.

Dawn felt stupid. Of course Reggie wasn’t coming, Paul was just on a phone call with him, and Veilstone City was too far to make it in an hour. Before she could wallow in her own self-pity, Paul spoke up.

“So, how’s he doing?” Paul practically sneers.

“Uh, you mean how’s Ash?” Dawn asks. She exchanges a questioning look with Piplup before realizing Paul is almost at the door. She runs after him. “Wait! If you ask a question, don’t you want to hear the answer?”

Dawn catches up with him, falling in a step or two behind him. The brisk morning air hits her face and clears her head. “Ash is doing some last minute training with his Pokémon. Want me to get him?”

“Please don’t. No need.”

“Why did you ask about him then?”

“ … I don’t know.”

Oh great, Dawn thinks sarcastically. Dawn realizes she’s fallen behind him and hurries to catch up.

What do we even say to each other? She thinks nervously. The awkwardness is probably one-sided as she doubts Paul cares about that sort of thing, but it’s all Dawn can think about. 

As a coordinator, Dawn prides herself on being able to entertain the audience and appeal to the judges. Her entire career depends on people’s opinions and how they view her. 

But Paul? Paul was unreadable. She had no idea what he was thinking, much less feeling. 

Should she just peel off, say she forgot something? But they were walking in the same direction. Should she ask him about his Pokémon, if he was ready for his battle? But would Paul get defensive and snap at her? Would Paul even notice if she fell back and walked by herself?

“I just don’t like him,” Paul says suddenly. Dawn’s head whips up. Was Paul actually talking about his feelings? Verbally expressing how he felt? In front of her?

Dawn suddenly felt like she’s walking on a live wire. 

“He talks just like my brother. Friends, trust … my brother says those things all the time too.”

“But Paul, Ash isn’t Reggie. Ash is Ash, and that’s that.” Dawn protests.

“PAUL!”

“Hey Dawn! Paul!”

The two look up to see Barry and Ash racing towards them with bright grins on their faces.

“Look, Ash is like any other trainer I’d have to battle in the quarter-finals … and I’m going to have to beat him if I want to win the Sinnoh League.”

Dawn stares at Paul with an open mouth. Wow. She had no idea Paul felt those things — that he is even feeling things at all. She knows Ash, his nervousness for the battle manifesting in his training and his determination. But Paul is feeling things about the battle too. 

Dawn feels his determination, his strength for what is ahead. The way he speaks and how his eyes focus up ahead — past her, past Ash — as if there is more waiting for him to achieve. 

It makes Dawn realize that being the Sinnoh Champion isn’t just Ash’s dream — it was Paul’s too. The way Paul trained his Pokémon and how he let go of Chimchar — it was ruthless and wrong, but suddenly Dawn realizes it was for a purpose. Paul wasn’t power-hungry for no reason. 

Paul is ambitious and determined and focused and level. His strength to push past things and focus solely on his goal is what makes him powerful, not his Pokémon. His ambition drives him to do better and his determination is what forces him to never stop. This battle with Ash is a stepping stone to something greater, and Paul is going to do everything he can to beat him. 

And Dawn could respect that. 

*** 

Ash and Paul’s battle is as heart-pounding as Dawn expects.

She’s cheering for Ash, calling out encouragement as Piplup cheers and Brock yells. She is rooting for him because she’s his friend, and one little conversation with Paul won’t change that. 

But still, between Barry screaming in her ear and the roaring audience, a small part of her thinks she wouldn’t mind it if Paul won.