AN: I don't own Pokemon. I'm just borrowing the characters to play with, and I don't get any money for playing :(

This was just how he enjoyed it. The beauty of the subtle, silent breeze ruffling through his hair. The rushing creek was assuring him that he was still alive and well (somewhat, if not all).

The dark sky with it's foggy mist veiling what really lies behind it. Sometimes, it was better to conceal it than face it. The reality hurts, but pain means you're alive. Pain means you're still there, even when you could've sworn you weren't. Occasionally, it was nice to pretend he was just smoke in the thin, crisp air.

Imagination didn't really exist in his world.

He came face-to-face with reality more than once, and it smacked him each time.

Each time it hurt less and less.

Each time it felt more and more as if it wasn't there.

Every encounter contained more numbness.

It was as if being drugged with morphine, but the more you numb it, the more it overdrives when the substance wears off.

Better get those refills.

He couldn't see the beauty in the stars. Most people would claim it was because of his cold-heart, but once more he had to disagree.

The stars were worthless. They served no purpose. The world could be dim forever for all he cared.

Still, flashes of his mother raced through his mind.

"The stars are the mirrors of how great we can be. Our light, our spirit, our beauty, shine when we least expect it."

Was it just poetic lies?

Paul thought it would be better to dispose of the sentimental garbage in his head right now and breathlessly leaned against a nearby tree. At least no one could bother him here, not even that Ash kid.

Okay, he gave him a little credit for his Pikachu knowing Volt Tackle, but that was about it. His team was weak, and he always chose disadvantages against his opponents, without at least a good move to back it up, and he spoke like such a little kid. Was he even old enough to have a Pokemon? He wouldn't be able to tell by his attitude.

But why should he worry about it? It wasn't his problem, which meant it wasn't a problem at all in the first place.

Anyway, Reggie was bound to come looking for him any minute now.

Why had he decided to come back to Veilstone again? Oh yeah, he wanted his gym badge from Maylene. He'd collect his pokemon from Reggie tomorrow morning and would battle her in the late afternoon.

So yes, stupidly he'd wandered into the forest without a single pokemon. What was he thinking? Even he agreed his mind could be stubborn when it settled on an idea.

Still, something didn't feel right. His breath was hot, but chills sped up and down his spine. Alright, so maybe he did feel a bit under the weather for the past few days. Okay, that was an understatement, but he had had a habit of doing that. He felt plain miserable. He had avoided Reggie for a reason, and he had just reminded himself why he'd come hiding in this darn forest.

He always had a reason. However, it worried him that whatever was ailing him wasn't planning to fade away on it's own. He was hoping to keep out of sight as much as possible for a few days, and he'd be fine, but that wasn't working out exactly in his favor.

First, he thought he heard someone calling his name, but may have been delusional. Then, he was seeing stars, and next, his world was skipping into complete darkness. Damn…


Paul awoke to someone sponging his face with cool water. It felt good, but he still managed to crack his eyes open and begin firing questions.

"What-"

"Hush," Reggie stated firmly, taking this opportunity to stick a thermometer into the young trainer's mouth.

The acknowledgement he received in return was a glare that could kill all.

"I'm fine," Paul tried to spit out the instrument, but his older brother had suspected this, and held it steadily in place, giving his younger sibling a warning gaze.

How would Reggie "punish" Paul for being uncooperative in urgent situations? He might keep his pokemon a few extra days, forcing Paul to stay in the city and fall behind schedule (which he despised with a passion).

"You fainted near the creek in the forest. It's 8:15 P.M, and by the looks of it, you've been trying to hide this from me. You have a lot of explaining to do."

Oh, joy.

Paul rolled his eyes at what he found to be his overly-concerned brother, "It's just a cold."

"Oh, Paul, I've heard you say that more than enough times, and I still don't take your word for it. You could be on the brink of death, and you'd say, 'It's just a few broken bones.'" Reggie let out a long sigh, then removed the thermometer at the rhythmic beeps, "101.5. Yeah, just a cold. That's a full blown flu, little bro."

"No," Paul rejected, forcing himself to sit up. He refused to believe he was too weak to walk. Rather peevishly, he added, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get my pokemon and train for my-"

"You're crazy," Reggie broke off, "You're staying in bed."

"Oh yeah, what makes you think I will?" Paul challenged, crossing his arms with that famous, "humph".

"I'm your big brother, which by sibling law means I'm responsible for you, so you're going to listen even if I have to tie you to the bed."

Humph, bluff.

"You and I both know you wouldn't do that. You're bluffing," Paul grinned confidentely, if not feverishly.

"Try me," Reggie persisted, then was satisfied when Paul finally shut up.

"So, what's on the to-do-list for me?"

"First we need to get you into some comfy clothes and-"

"You're going to smother me aren't you?" Paul asked, apprehensively, and with almost a wince.

"I just might not be able to help myself."

Then, he actually winced.

"I hate you," he retorted, as a pathetic comeback.

"No, you don't. That's just the fever talking. Now, take off that jacket."

"No, I like it."

"Don't make this difficult," Reggie begged, "You can be so bull-headed."

"Humph."

"Paul," Reggie warned, now strict.

Hmmm, maybe it was better to not test it anymore. Besides, he wasn't sure if he had the strength for another argument (sadly), and because he didn't think he was very likely to win the next round.

With another, "humph", and a few breathless murmurs of complaint, Paul shrugged out of his jacket, passing it soundlessly to Reggie.

"Thank you," he commended, then threw a pair of gray sweatpants and a nice baggy t-shirt on the bed.

Paul swiftly changed while Reggie sorted through other clothing, his back turned to him.

"Here," he muttered grumpily, handing the clothes over and settling down on the soft pillows of the bed. He had to admit, it was very inviting, and he knew he wouldn't get up again even if Reggie had wanted him to.

"Good, now, I think you should tell me what's bugging you, or I could just give you a bunch of medicine for everything, which doesn't taste very appealing."

"Ugh… Alright, my throat might be a little scratchy," Paul confided, with a weak sniffle, which he was hoping to muffle somehow. Reggie couldn't help, but chuckle at his little brother's dilemma. He snatched a few tissues from the box on the nightstand and handed them to the trainer, meeting his eyes with a smile.

That annoying smile, that could kill Paul.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and Reggie knew that was the best he was going to get, then the boy ungracefully blew his nose, which unfortunately didn't help the congestion beginning to build up.

Finally, the elder stood up and swept into the bathroom, removing all the items he'd need from the medicine cabinet.

He returned when Paul was in the middle of a coughing fit, turning slightly red in the face.

"Okay, cheers," Reggie smiled sympathetically, pouring a fever reducer onto a spoon and coaxing it into his brother's mouth.

"I'm not a little kid. This will wear off on it's own. I'll just sleep it out, okay?"

"I'm not going through this again, Paul," Reggie replied, exasperated.

Paul disdainfully swallowed the thick syrup and fell back against the pillows, only to sit up a few moments later to take a cough suppressant.

"Good job. Now, I want you to take a nice nap, and maybe sleep out the rest of the night if you can. I'll be downstairs if you need anything, so don't hesitate to call, and I mean it, Paul. Don't go getting things by yourself."

"Yeah, whatever," Paul coughed weakly and turned on his side, giving away a few more soft sniffles.

Reggie smiled once more, satisfied for now. He only wondered how he'd be able to convince him to postpone his gym battle tomorrow.

Now that would be the real challenge.

As Paul laid in his bed, feeling more achy by the hour, he couldn't help but feel grateful toward Reggie. Someone still cared if he was doing alright.

Someone still knew he wasn't completely cold-hearted, just disappointed and stubbornly- determined.

It felt nice to be a little loved.

And he could vaguely hear as Reggie began singing in the kitchen, "Swim across the ocean blue. Fly a rocket to the moon. You can change your life, or you can change the world! Take the chance. Don't be afraid. Life is yours to live! Take a chance and then the best has yet to come."

Reggie was quite the singer, and as the chorus swung around Paul began lulling to sleep.

"Make a wish! It's up to you. Find the strength inside, and watch your dreams come true. You don't need a shooting star, the magic's right there in your heart."

The present world was floating away in his feverish mind.

"Close your eyes… Believe, and make a wish…"

Then, light snores filled the room, and Reggie grinned as he found Paul sleeping peacefully, his flushed cheeks making him look all the more adorable.

Paul wasn't cruel. In fact, he was far from it.

Silently, he snuck his way up to the slumbered form, and pushed the strands of hair away from his face. Then, he stepped out of the room and made his way to the backyard, his voice drifting through the air,

"When you're tucked in tight. When everything's alright. Slip softly to that place, where secret thoughts run free. There come face-to-face with who you want to be..."