Contradiction

(she never seemed to give up, she couldn't, not with him)

(Ikarishipping – Dawn/Paul)

Disclaimer: I don't own pokémon and will never ever do that

A/N: Ikarishipping! :D I don't know why but I like writing about it. It's rather easy. I hope you like this! Dawn would be happy if you did, right? :3

Dawn: Uh, do I?

"No."

"But why? Come on, Paul, it will be fun! You know that I love Contests above all other things and I promise you that my coordination-skills is way better than my battle skills!"

Despite her blithesome voice, coming from her throat, out of her mouth, he didn't care. Moaned, his eyes wandered between the high buildings (filled with computers and overstrained workers) behind her.

He was adult like, a loner that despised other people, humans, pokémon and she didn't really understand why. But she knew that there was a reason, there are usually reasons for different behaviors, even though mostly of them are hidden under the ground, nourished in the confusion that seems like a habit, usual, something like that. But while he was sturdy as a rock, unemotional, rude, a total bastard at times, she never seemed to behave herself, acted more like a woman than a girl, never seemed to understand that he didn't want enthusiastically girls in too short (at least Brock told her that once, surprisingly enough if you thought about what a total flirt he was) skirts and that still used yellow braces in their hair even though some thought of this as childish. He wanted… well, no one, but he seemed to appreciate (tolerate) mature people that was into battles, becoming better, skills, strategies, quiet types (not like Barry that talked more than at least her ears was able to snap) that only talked when they actually had something to say, that was cool, maybe a little cold, and more importantly, didn't comment on his cruel behavior and likely to actually hurt his Pokémon when he forced them into achieving his dream of becoming Champion, defeat Cynthia which so easily wrecked his pokémon and left him to play with the pieces. He wanted someone where she was not. She was not quiet, she was not mature, she was childish, she was happy and easy-going, she didn't care about battles more than necessary, she didn't care about strength, fame and calmly behavior, because that wasn't her and it would never be her. She was wrong for him, he didn't want someone like her (if he wanted someone at all which something seemed as unsure as a fight with the sun and the moon), they didn't share the same interest, same dreams, same opinions and same meanings. She wanted things, he wanted things, but it would never mix, because they were too different, it was impossible.

And she couldn't really explain her interest in him, because it wasn't logical, he never returned anything, always scolded her, told her that she was stupid and foolish (somehow she didn't seem to care), signed, rolled eyes, everything was a sign of how many attempts she would pull of, nothing would change (because he didn't want her, didn't want to be friends with her, she couldn't change him.)

"Come on. I promise that it will be interesting, you–"

"I'm not interested in your stupid Contests", he frowned, a growling sound coming from deep inside his throat. He spat it out, thought that it added to the fact (and surely it did, but that didn't matter, because she was way too persistent to fall for his lame attempt of acting like a bastard (it only increased her feelings but he didn't understand that, because he didn't understand emotions, it was a riddle in the book that would remain unsolved. Only due to the fact that the answer was way too easy for him.

He was the bad guy. And she liked the bad guy. Because he was dark, furtive, cold, and despite her easy-going gestures and will to smile, it just had that effect on her.

"How can you say that?" She knew that she was annoying, almost too annoying but maybe, just maybe, her knives would cut down his shell, because he needed someone that cared, everybody did and she wanted to be that person, she must be that person, because she was the only one that tried, tried to look into his purple eyes and tried to see their interior corridors, was the only one that knew that he didn't treat his pokémon as junk just for the satisfaction (oh, no, there was something deep hidden beneath the sand), because there was no satisfaction in watching your pokémon bleed and cry, run away and act like broken tools, not even for him. He wanted something else. Told her this once when he actually talked with her, not scolding her and ordered to leave him alone that was his usual measure, he never told her about this, description, only let it out, probably surprised himself as much as he surprised her. Because Paul never talked about himself as for his training and willing to reach the League. But that wasn't a goal, it was an order. His order. And she wanted him to understand that. Wanted to help him (again, even though there was another purpose of her being so pursuant, him being all hot and his eyes deep as the Lake Verity outside her home, Twinleaf Town, she was unable to resist.)

The problem was that he never allowed this, even when she played along in a friendlier pace, bringing the topic 'Contests' up that wouldn't scare anyone because it was so thin and fright-less (but it still scared him.) Because she walked on a ground that he wanted to avoid, because she was sweet like a strawberry and he didn't like strawberries. Cute things were prohibited, it wasn't the ideal, the flag guiding him forward, that he was born and raised with and he didn't want to change his life (because he was afraid that it was worse than the one he lived now.)

But it wasn't. And she wanted to peculate the lies and enhance the reality –

If only he would let her. But he didn't.

Ash always wondered why she'd never give up. And she didn't know how to answer that one, how to remain a worried "friend", fooling Ash and Brock into a mixture of her big heart and will to take care of anyone (that was only the half of the reality's coin.)

Only half.

Because she wanted more. And she knew that Paul knew that as well.

And Ash and Brock would never ever understand that.

"Please Paul", she begged and sparkled with her eyes, one time, then two, and hoped that he would find her eyes so enthralling and filled with the enthusiasm that she felt for both the career that she burned for, and the desire to make him look through his sphere and see something else. See her. She wanted it, and he knew that, but knowing and doing is two completely different measures.

One, two, three minutes passed but he made them longer on purpose, to make her nervous and paralyzed and completely mute.

He looked at her, a look extremely dazzling, he was filled with the aura that made him hot, and when she saw a hot guy that wasn't interested in her, it only made the stair longer but the top was reachable and that was enough for her.

"Stop begging."

"But I –"

"Why must you be so annoying? Leave me alone. That's all I want."

But she wasn't the one to take words as they were (because she knew that there were meanings behind the words.) He put his hands in his pockets and stared, and she took unintentionally two steps back, not because she was afraid, but because his eyes (whole figure) told her that he wanted to be alone.

But he always said that he wanted to be alone and that wasn't the same. She clung to that, drastically and there were nothing he could to about it.

He knew that.

"Why are you like this? I like you but I don't crave anything from you and –"

"Don't crave?" he asked with an almost delighted sound in the question. "Isn't that what you're doing right now?"

"No, no", she hurried to state and waved with her hands in a nervous manner. He didn't seem pleased by her attempt to holding the offer over the waves (not letting it sunk like a stone like he wished) and she didn't care.

She'd never do that around him she remembered. Because it was just easier that way.

Sweat drops rolled down her lips, down her spine and she wondered if it was due to the sun that shone like a bulb above her or the nervousness. Probably a mixture between both.

"It's an offer. You don't have to."

"If I don't have to, how come that you still chapping about it?"

She flinched and picked with her pink miniskirt. Why was he so rude? And why was she so attracted (with pink cheeks and flutter in chest) by it?

"Because Contests are more than you realize. It's wonderful. Like training. But you don't understand that."

He narrowed his eyes and flicked his purple hair. "It isn't about that. Tell me the truth."

Truth? She gaped and stroked her blue hair behind her ears. "Really?"

"Don't act stupid."

She made a nervous laugh and understood that he knew everything and there was no point denying it further. He knew. And she knew. That was the only thing she had to consider.

"I want you to see me."

"Are you self-absorbed? I'm sure that there are tons of guys that think you're the prettiest thing in the world."

She tried to spot some envying in his voice, but no – nothing. But his voice was always flat as the plain so she wasn't sure if that made an overall difference.

"That's not the point! I want you…Ehm, want you to see my performance."

He scowled, glared and she shrunk. "Idiot", he muttered, turned his spine at her and then started to walk, zipping up his jacket. The purple, very special hair, flowed with his movement. She looked up, then looked down, and her usually fast answer-machine seemed to be broken because there was nothing she could say that fitted. He walked away, and she remained.

He wasn't interested in her Contest at all, was he? She blinked to make the tears go away, but they didn't and slipped down her cheek. Blinked harder, knotted her hands and threw a glance in his direction.

And he didn't look back.

He wasn't interested in her at all? No.

Remain calm, remain sturdy, but how can you do that when it's obvious that her dream soars and then dies, and she's there to notice the upcoming from the start to the end?

"Why are you looking so down?" Zoey asked, not curiously, more concerned, while she brushed through Dawn's hair, soft curls and then arrange the blue flush in a high ponytail that suited her clothes for today's Contest. She shuddered when she felt Zoey's soft, thin fingers bruising at her skin; it would've been a lie if she stated that she had forgotten Paul's rejection.

But this wasn't the time to mourn over the person that didn't exist, and Zoey was one of those who shared that opinion. When it was Contest it was Contest, not anything else. Dawn put her hands in her lap, as she looked into the mirror and saw the pale shadow of the usually genuine and carefree person that she was when confidence ran through her veins. But not now. And Zoey saw that. The blunette inhaled and hugged Piplup's Pokéball, tightly, could felt the warmth sipping into her fingers.

"No, no", she shook her head and tried to crack a smile in her stone-face (failed.) "It's nothing. I'm fine."

Zoey stroke back one single strand of hair behind Dawn's ear and moved down with her hands to correct the shoulder pads. "It's Paul. Isn't it?"

Dawn moved her head and met resolve in Zoey's red eyes. She was already in her suit. She knew everything. Dawn should've known that. Zoey could definitely read minds and Dawn wasn't sure if she appreciated that ability. Probably not. She let the air out, bounced at the wall and back again, and wondered if Zoey understood her desire or if it was just like Ash and Brock that cared for her but never knew what exactly she needed.

"Paul? Yeah. He doesn't want to look at the Contest today."

Zoey unscrewed the top of the mascara, moved closer; Dawn stared at her (not really visible) breasts as the redhead started to enhance her eyelashes. "Don't say you're surprised. Paul is like that. He doesn't like Contests. Don't you understand that?"

Dawn shut her eyes, enjoying Zoey's makeup. Dawn didn't really like makeup, but understood that it was necessary when it came to showing up in front of millions of people, filled with craves and appearance preferences. "I do. It just… I like him."

"I know", Zoey's soft voice was caring, she wanted to understand. That meant very much for Dawn. "But you can't give up your career because of him. You're far too talented and besides, you may find someone that treat Contests as they deserve."

"Uh. You mean like Kenny?"

Kenny was a childhood friend. A nice childhood friend with a big heart and love for his Pokémon but his sexual preferences weren't exactly high as Mt. Coronet.

"Kenny yeah. He likes you."

"I know. He doesn't really hide it", Dawn sighed, opened her eyes and looked into the mirror. Clear eyes looked back, blue pool-eyes with determinate sparkles that contrasted high to her almost-white skin. "But I don't feel that for him. I'm sorry."

"For what? Nobody thinks you like him. You like Paul?"

"Yeah. He's hot."

"And a bastard."

"Too bad that doesn't change anything. I still want him."

Zoey smiled and patted her gently on the shoulder. "That's kinda obvious, Dawnie. You act like a fangirl."

Dawn frowned and corrected the sleeves of the white dress that was the most revealing dress she had ever worn in this kind of arraignments. "He thinks I'm annoying."

"He thinks anyone is annoying. Don't make such fuzz about it."

"But…" she mumbled and clenched harder to the pokéball. Was afraid that she was going to burst out in tears again, which was ridiculous but not a worn out lie that she could put behind her. "I want him to like me. Why is it so hard to understand?"

"Maybe it's because Paul is unfriendly. Why would anyone want to be friend with someone that's cruel, that doesn't like anything particular, that treats his Pokémon like the scum he believes they are and –"

"I get it. But I… I know there is someone else beneath that mask. And I want to see it. See him. And I want him to be proud of me…"

"Then make him proud. Own the stage. Like you usually do. As you did when you beat May. Do that again. That's the only thing you could do."

"Thank you, Zoey", she whispered and hugged her best friend tightly. Zoey smiled and bruised again Dawn's chin with her fingers.

"No problem."

Attraction is only a step on the ladder, but it consumes like a river

She felt her hem bruising against her bare legs as she entered the stadium. Flashlights hanging from the ceiling dazzled her and she felt like an animal before the execution. She blinked and heard the scream from the visitors but she couldn't catch particular words, it flew like a dim and she started and looked, completely consumed by nerves and a desire to win this. She was going to win this. Looked down at the ball, smiled, then looked up to face the crowd.

They believed in her. That was all she needed.

But when she let her visage wander from row to row she noticed something that almost made her faint. Her legs weakened and felt like spaghetti and she blinked one, two, three times just to assure herself that it wasn't a dream.

Really. It wasn't. A dream.

Really.

Paul was there. And when her eyes stopped at his purple hair he looked her straight in the eyes. He didn't smile, but he never did, she did, wide, she was something for him after all.

She looked forward, threw up Piplup's Pokéball, ready to enhance her consuming happiness.

And it it really that strange that she later wins the whole Contest? She doesn't think that way.

"You're good", Paul muttered afterwards, started at her bosom filled with roses and her dress sweaty and creased.

"I told you!"

He crossed his arms. "You're still annoying", he stated and then started walking towards the exit.

And she smiled.

fin