Wishfulshipping day! I hope you've enjoyed it.
i am in love (with you).
by clarabella wandering.
She is twelve, and he sixteen, when the seeds for her crush are planted. He is kneeling over her, the rain crashing outside, Ash asleep far away to her left. Her coughing is heavy and worrisome, and he leans over her with an expression that worries her further.
"Where are we?" She asks, weakly. Quietly.
"A cottage we found in the forest," he answers, equally quiet. "Rest, Iris."
She shakes her head. "Cilan? What's wrong with me?"
"You have the flu," Cilan says.
"What?" She scoots away from him, "get away from me, then, or you'll catch it, too!"
Cilan only moves closer, pressing a towel to her forehead, a determined look on his face. "No, Iris. I won't leave you."
She makes a face at him, her stubbornness setting in, but he looks just as stubborn. "You will catch the flu," she says again, making sure to enunciate each word. She coughs again.
"As long as you're okay," he says, "it'll be worth it."
He smiles at her, and through the darkness, it seems like the brightest thing she's ever seen.
He is twenty, and she sixteen, when he finally, finally, realizes her feelings for him. They are sitting in front of the video phone at his Gym-slash-Restaurant- in Striaton City, his brothers somewhere in the background. The sit they split is small, and so their legs touch. He doesn't think much of it -he has known Iris for six years, after all, and they've shared seats more times than he can remember. She, however, does. Her cheeks are flamed red, her pupils dilated, and he notices.
He notices halfway through their conversation with Ash. He chokes on his water, and she stares at him strangely. So does Ash. Pikachu and Fraxure give him confused glances. "What's wrong, Cilan?" Ash asks, through the screen. In the background, Cilan can see a blond girl dancing around the kitchen, baking something.
Cilan doesn't look at Iris when he says, "nothing, Ash. Nothing at all."
That might just be the biggest lie he's ever told.
From then on he treats her virtually the same, but with some differences that Iris is quick to notice: He doesn't sit next to her anymore, doesn't place an arm around her, doesn't grab her hand or sweep her into dances or dab her nose with frosting when he bakes.
She never asks him why, not until one day she moves to place her hand on his shoulder and he jumps about five feet in the air. When he doesn't meet her eyes, his cheeks flamed red (with shame? Embarrassment?), she comes to a quick conclusion: He knows.
She lets him leave, claiming he's going to go pick up that pizza they had ordered for her, him, and his brothers. As soon as he's walked out, she screams, "Griffith brothers!"
They come skidding in, Chili out of breath and Cress confused. "What do you want?" Chili asks, "I need to get back to the t.v. before my show comes back on."
She breathes out, looking outraged, "how long has he known?"
The two brothers immediately straighten. "About two months," Chili answers easily. Cress glares at him. "What?" He asks, raising his hands defensively, "he's acting like an idiot about it. She's sixteen, not five."
"Yes," Cress hisses, "and he is twenty." Upon realizing how sharp and harsh his words are, Cress carefully turns to look at Iris, who's expression is unreadable. "I'm sorry, Iris."
Iris shakes her head roughly. "No, you're right. I understand." She stands, fixing her skirt, and heads towards the door. "Tell Cilan that Drayden called me home."
And with that, she flies out of their home.
It is two in the morning when Iris comes storming into the Opelucid City Gym, tears hot in her eyes. There are five missed calls from Cilan, ten text messages, and another call rings its way through the eery-looking gym, but she quickly presses the Ignore button and shuts off her phone.
Stupid, she thinks as she climbs the stairs and collapses onto her bed. So stupid.
Fraxure pops out of his Pokeball and nudges her hand, whining. She glares at him, and he shrinks away. "I'm sorry, Fraxure," Iris says, upon realizing that she's hurt her Pokemon's feeling. "Just go back to sleep, okay? I just wanna be alone right now. I'll see you in the morning."
He eyes her with suspicion, but returns to his Pokeball in silence.
Iris falls asleep with red, puffy eyes, and doesn't wake up until she hears Drayden say, "What? Fraxure? What are you doing- Oh."
She busies herself over the next six months, training for the title of Championship which she will one day claim and beating the challengers that come her way. When Cilan calls her, she answers, but the conversations are always short, always painstakingly polite.
"I'd like to visit," Cilan says one morning. Iris stops eating her cereal and glances at the phone incredulously.
What the hell, she thinks. "Why?"
It comes out rude, but Cilan ignores her tone. "Because I miss you," he says simply.
Iris feels her resolve weakening.
"Fine," she mutters, "but only if you bring Chili's lava cake."
The year passes, and as she gazes at him, she thinks that, maybe they won't ever be what she'd like them to be, but she's glad that they are friends. Cilan is her anchor, the person who keeps her from floating away, and she is his wings, showing him the adventure life can give them, should they be open to it.
As another year flies by, and he graduates from an A-class to an S-class while she (begrudgingly) enrolls in Opelucid City's university for a degree in Medicine. On her eighteenth birthday, they take a walk down Opelucid's Main Street, their minds engrossed in their future.
It is Iris who eventually breaks the silence. "I don't think I'll ever be used to it," she says. They've come to a stop at a ledge, and she leans heavily on the railing, the wind sweeping her hair back in a picturesque way. "The city life, I mean."
"You are a rural girl," Cilan agrees.
Iris grins, "A wild child."
He takes in the way her eyes shine as she overlooks Opelucid, and the forests and mountains beyond it. Her cheeks are pink from the sting of the wind, her dark skin glowing under the moon. She looks vibrant, beautiful. Cilan tilts his head, "A free spirit." He murmurs. And then, without thinking, "it suits your beauty."
Iris starts. Her cheeks turn a darker shade of pink. Cilan shakes his head, wondering what's come over him; He usually thinks without speaking, and here he is, saying whatever comes to his mind. How unsavory. "I'm sorry," Cilan says, "I've spoken out of turn."
But Iris only smiles, "It's alright." She says. She tentatively takes his hand, pulling him away from the ledge, towards her Gym. "You're my best friend; you get to speak out of turn."
His cheeks turn as pink as hers, but he lets her lace their fingers together, vowing that it will only happen tonight. Iris sees this.
Both of them know, he is lying.
He doesn't know exactly when he falls in love with her. Indeed, he is far, far along the way by the time he realizes it. She's just turned twenty and so over him (he was her first love, she'll tell Bianca, but she's done with him. The blond always laughs at those words). Cilan comes to visit her every weekend, stays in the guest bedroom. He guides her through the rough spots in her studies, and she guides him through the tribulations of being the youngest S-class connoisseur in history. She knows a few things about being frowned upon, after all.
One day, he walks into the her kitchen to see her feeding their Pokemon. She's kneeling, tending to Cilan's youngest Pokemon -a shy Blitzle. The baby Pokemon watches her with caution before slowly approaching and sniffing her hand. Deeming Iris safe, Blitzle leans into Iris' touch and neighs in content before attacking the food bowl she's placed before him. Iris laughs, throwing her head back, her eyes bright with joy.
Something hits him hard. His heart jumps, his hand drops from where it has been resting on the doorframe and comes to touch the side of his cheek. She notices him and turns towards him. "Hi, Cilan!" She greets, getting up and dancing towards the other end of the kitchen. She sees his dumbfounded face and asks, nose scrunched, "Is everything alright?"
She looks pretty like that, Cilan thinks simply, "I, um," he trips over his words, cursing himself; An S-class connoisseur tripping over his words. For shame. So, taking a breath, he smiles and says, "Yes. I just came to a very interesting realization a few moments ago, is all."
She raises a brow, "Oh?"
He nods, turning on the radio. She beams at the song that is playing, "I love this song! Dance with me, Cilan!" She grabs his hand roughly and pulls him into a jitterbug. He easily keeps up.
For the first time in his life, Cilan realizes that he is in love.
Halloween rolls around, and Iris forces him to dress up and help her hand out candy at her Gym. Which is why he's standing in his bedroom (it's not the guest room anymore, it's his room, it's Cilan's room), fixing the ends of his tuxedo and straightening his bowtie, before he pulls a cloth over his arm and stands straight, making sure everything is in order.
Iris calls him from her room, "Cilan! I need you!"
Done dressing, he walks across the hall to her room and knocks. "M'lady?" He calls, voice teasing, "May I enter?"
A beat.
And then, voice dripping with sarcasm, he hears he say, "Monsieur Griffith, you may enter." When he does so, she says, "I'm in the bathroom. Be a butler and help me with this zipper, will you?"
He strides towards the bathroom and closes his eyes while pulling up her zipper, ever the gentlemen. Iris rolls her eyes but doesn't comment. When he is finished, she hauls him out of the bathroom until they stand in front of her full length mirror. "What do you think?" She asks him. "I think we look exactly like Ingrid and Caleb, don't you think?"
She strikes a pose, mouth twisted into a smirk. Indeed, she does look like Ingrid, the princess from her favorite book. The black dress with white seams trails down her body before stopping at just below the ankles, spreading about her. She wears a belt, and on it is a sword and her Pokeballs. The dress resembles a dragon. He, in turn, looks like a butler. Which was, he supposes, the goal.
"Yes," Cilan says, glad that his cheeks aren't heating up from looking at her; She looks stunning in the outfit. "You certainly make that dress look beautiful."
"Don't you mean that the dress makes me beautiful?" Iris teases.
He shakes his head, "No. I don't."
Immediately, her cheeks heat up, but she pushes the embarrassment aside and says, "I think you look like a handsome butler, Cilan. Maybe you missed your true calling."
He laughs, "Well, I don't think we're quite Ingrid and Caleb, the warrior princess and her boyfriend of a butler," Cilan says, thoughtfully, "But we certainly look like Iris, the Dragon Princess, and Cilan, her sidekick."
"You're not my sidekick," Iris lightly corrects, hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
"What do you call somebody who's willing to go through hell and high water for somebody else?" Cilan asks her after they've left her room.
"I dunno," Iris says. "A lover? A soulmate? A best friend?" Upon seeing his nervous features, she asks, "Why do you want to know?"
He doesn't look at her when he says, "Because if I'm not your sidekick, I'm certainly one of those three things, and would like to be them all."
Cilan looks at his feet, waiting for her to realize what he is trying to say. When she does realize, she stops walking, stunned. Finally, Iris says, "Why now?"
He laughs, "I can't choose when to fall in love with someone, Iris."
She swallows. And blinks. Before she can further address his confession, there comes a knock at the door. "I see," Iris murmurs, and swiftly heads towards the door.
When the last kid is gone, and the door closes heavily behind Iris, she asks Cilan, "Did you mean it?"
He dries his hands, "Mean what?"
Iris swallows, "That you wanted to be my lover, wanted to be my soulmate, my best friend."
Cilan stops. He slowly puts his hands on the counter before he faces her. "I did." Cilan confirms.
She feels like she's going to cry, so many emotions rising in her throat that she can't catch them all, except for the sudden understanding of why Bianca always laughed when Iris told her she didn't love Cilan anymore. "If you really didn't love him, you wouldn't feel the need to remind me twenty-four seven," Bianca had always said.
She walks towards him slowly. When Iris reaches him, her hands come up to rest on his cheeks, and he clutches her tiny, calloused hands in his bigger, softer ones. "Oh, Cilan," she says, "all these years, I thought you already knew. I guess my sixth sense is better than I thought."
He squints, confused. "Excuse me?"
Iris clarifies, "You are my best friend, and I knew since almost the beginning that you were my soulmate. I just didn't know if you'd ever be my lover."
He leans down (she's about an entire foot shorter than him), and she stands on her tip toes to meet him. His forehead comes to rest against hers. "Would you like me to be your lover?"
She grins, radiant as the sun, "I would like that very much."
A grin works its way onto his face as well, and he lifts her in the air, spinning her around, her laugh music to his ears. Her dress swirls around them. He sits her down on the counter, her hands still on his cheek. "I'm in love with you," Cilan says, matter-of-factly.
Iris tilts her head, "good, because I'm in love with you, too."
When she kisses him, it is long and sweet and a promise.
Cilan quite likes that promise.
