Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. I don't even own my car. I'm just a poor boy from a poor family.
"Dawn. It's Riley. Please return my calls. We need to talk."
Riley, renowned as a powerful Stat Trainer, shut his cell phone and pocketed it, frowning at the frothy seas surrounding Canalave City. It was a little before sunset, where the sky glowed azure and the waves sparkled cheerfully. The backdrop hardly matched Riley's mood today or the mood he had held for the past few days, for that matter.
He'd made a mistake. A grave error. How could he have been so stupid? Tearing his hat off of his head, he ran his hand through his hair and sighed deeply. Regret pulsed in his gut.
Exactly three days ago, perhaps down to the second, Dawn had said three words to him. They were good words, kind words, words that made his soul sing, but had they ever gotten him in trouble!
He thought back upon that day, wondered what he could have done differently. Was there a better way to do it? Could he have handled this situation better? Riley thought, and the world disappeared around him as he did.
On occasion, in spite of some mixed memories concerning the place, Dawn visited Iron Island. Riley used to assume that it was simply for training purposes, but the fact was that she always seemed to seek him out whenever she was there. She used to make attempts at concealing her desire to see him. Dawn would send out her Lucario, his own training partner's daughter, to flashily take on a Steelix, some Graveler, essentially any Pokémon that she ran across, and then act surprised whenever she ran into Riley.
Time wore on, and her act wore off. Whenever she came, even if it was to train, she almost always sought Riley out the minute she arrived.
"Riley?" rang her voice through one the carved-out caverns. "Where are you at?"
He had been expecting it. Like his Lucario could—but at a lesser degree—he sensed aura. Hers was very particular and bright; it eclipsed that of anyone else's around her. With a smile, he waited patiently until the girl found him.
Dawn trotted up to him, long, glassy hair swishing energetically as she moved. Today, instead of Lucario, she was training a Kirlia. Riley had never met the Pokémon's acquaintance before, but judging by the creature's aura and expression, this one was a male and had a strong desire to find a Dawn Stone before evolved into a Gardevoir. "Riley!" She exclaimed, a smile warming her features. "It's good to see you!"
His cheeks burned at her greeting. "Yes, I enjoy your company as well," he responded. Dawn plopped down beside him on his rocky perch, and for a while they sat quietly. Kirlia greeted Lucario courteously, and the Pokémon hit it off, discussing what seemed to be battle tactics. "How have you been?"
"Oh, busy," she responded, crossing her legs. She adjusted her dark pink overcoat briskly as she quickly recounted a few battles she had as the new Champion. Riley listened patiently. More than anything, he found himself watching her. He'd known her for two years, but she had matured by what seemed like a decade in that time. A proud, occasionally caustic girl in her youth had developed into a bright, self-possessed Champion that charmed every challenger and passerby. Certainly she had her moments of sharpness still—that was a trait that would likely never vanish.
It was hard to not admire her, even when she had been difficult to relate to. Now, he wondered if he had grown too fond of her.
At the end of her recitation, she looked to Riley, folding her arms across her chest. "So, what have you been up to?"
"I spent some time in the Survival Zone. Buck wanted me to go to Stark Mountain with him, and Cheryl attempted to procure my cell phone number in that very subtle way of hers," he replied, rolling his eyes.
Dawn seemed to bristle a little at the mention of Cheryl's antics. "Well, did you give it to her?" she asked, her tone mildly pointed.
"She attempted. I didn't say she succeeded," Riley responded, tugging the brim of his hat lower to avoid her questioning blue gaze.
Dawn exhaled. He wasn't sure if it was a sigh, or if she had been holding her breath over something. Moments later, her fingers latched onto the brim of his hat and lifted it higher. "Don't do that. I want to see your face," she said. Something soft and completely un-Dawn-like had laced through her voice.
Riley studied her as she retracted her hand. Obviously, she was fond of him. She wouldn't keep coming to Iron Island if it weren't for him. But how fond could she be? Close to her seventeenth birthday, Dawn was on the cusp of adulthood. Riley had just turned twenty-three. A little over six years separated them.
Those years numbered too many when she had yet to turn seventeen. Or eighteen. Riley felt self-conscious about how much he cared for a girl who was that much younger than himself.
"What are you thinking?" Dawn asked, pressing closer to him. Riley wished she hadn't done that. He liked her closeness, but wasn't it bad that he did? How often had he gone to the Survival Area in the north only to hear Flint jokingly refer to the attractive young Champion as jailbait?
Riley inched away from her. "Nothing," he responded warily, reaching to pull the brim of his hat over his eyes once more.
Dawn grabbed his hand before he could and eyed him with bright eyes. "Riley, just be open with me for once. You're so concerned with keeping that cool, justified demeanor, but I need you to tell me what you really think."
"No, I really can't," he responded, his face growing hotter as she released his hand. The warm imprint of her fingers seemed to linger.
She groaned. "Fine. I didn't want to be the one to say it, but I will." Shoving her bangs out of her eyes, Dawn stood. She wasn't a particularly tall girl, maybe an inch or two shorter than average, and as she got her feet her she proved to have a bit of a height advantage over Riley.
He didn't want to hear what she had to say. He didn't want to observe this power play of hers, where she made herself look bigger, taller, older. He didn't want to be convinced that she was old enough for this, that neither of them would be stigmatized for this, that he could handle having a significantly younger girlfriend.
She could easily convince him, and that was what scared him more than the age gap.
The words rolled out of her mouth, and he immediately forced himself to despise them. "Riley…I love you," she breathed, holding his gaze with wide eyes. "I want to be with you."
Like he forced himself to hate her words, he forced himself to shake his head, to back get up and edge away from her. "Dawn, no," he said, his voice thin. "We can't."
"We can," she insisted, drawing closer to him. "I'm practically an adult. You know that. You've seen me grow as a person. I'm not a kid anymore."
Riley closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath. Don't let her convince you, he reminded himself. He wanted to placate her. He wanted them to remain precarious friends, if for at least long enough that he didn't feel like a complete predator for dating a younger woman. "Dawn, we can't. This is a bad idea," he said, trying to say it as gently as he could.
He felt Dawn's temper rise. "Riley!" she growled, catching his attention. Her expression contained barely-concealed hurt, and her eyes were glimmering with tears that she refused to release. "Please give it a chance."
"You're too young," he said.
Her expression flared. That hadn't been the right thing to say. Shit, he thought, watching her eyes sparkle precariously with welled-up tears. She wiped at them when she caught him staring. "All these talks. The flirting. This time spent together. I thought it meant something. And now you're using a number against me," she mumbled, sounding younger than she ever had. He supposed telling her that she was too young had made him sound quite young himself, but he didn't ponder too deeply on that. When he didn't respond to her, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, returned Kirlia to his Pokeball and began to walk away.
Riley hated the sight of her back to him, her shoulders slumped in defeat. He had never seen that. "Dawn!" he shouted as she walked away.
She ignored him. Never before had she ignored him. His heart felt lacerated; maybe his ribcage shattered.
He was so incredibly stupid. Maybe Dawn was naïve in thinking that a sixteen year old girl, just week and a half shy of her seventeenth birthday, could be with a man in his early twenties without consequence. Yet, he felt stupider for making her feel small.
Lucario eyed him dryly. Nicely handled, he remarked.
"I'm well aware," he mumbled to himself.
Riley's cell phone rang. Fumbling in his pockets for it, he answered. "Hello?" he asked breathlessly, shoving it hard against his ear.
"You wanted to talk," came Dawn's haggard voice over the earpiece. She sounded exhausted; a noxious combination of guilt and relief swirled in Riley's guts He released his breath, allowing himself to calmly inhale once more.
Precariously, gently, evenly, he replied, "Yes. I do."
"Then I'm right here," called a very familiar voice over the drone of the ocean wind. Riley turned sharply on his heel to see none other than Dawn standing about twenty feet behind him. In the warm coastal weather, she had ditched her jacket for a black tank top and pink skirt. She still wore boots—she never went anywhere without them. With a bleak expression, Dawn snapped her cell phone closed and approached Riley, her eyes wary. "What do you want?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest as each step slowed.
"We need to talk," he said, taking his hat from his head and rubbing at his forehead with the heel of his hand.
Dawn didn't meet his gaze. "I suppose, yeah," she said quietly.
"The top floor of the Canalave Library is usually open. There's also a side room if there are people there," Riley offered.
Absentmindedly, she nodded. They drifted, avoiding conversation or contact of any time, as they drifted toward the library.
When they reached the third floor, it was indeed occupied. Riley led her to a side room—an old room where outdated filing cabinets and books removed from circulation were stored. As he shut the door behind them, he turned to see Dawn perched on a stack of ancient encyclopedias, watching his movements closely. He leaned against the door, watching her with hooded eyes. "Say something," he pleaded. "Anything."
"I kind of hate you right now," Dawn admitted, playing with a lock of her hair anxiously.
The words cut through him, but Riley nodded in acceptance. "I bet."
"You don't get it. There is no one my age who is at my level. Of anything," she said, gesturing broadly as Riley looked at her in confusion. "You're acting like I shouldn't like an older guy, but there is no one my age."
"Barry?" Riley suggested.
"My childhood friend?" she remarked sharply, rolling her eyes. "It'd be like kissing my brother. Gross."
"Lucas, maybe," Riley added.
"He's a tool. He also is nowhere near my level," she added defiantly. Looking up at him, she rubbed at her wrists, shifting her Poketch with the movement. "I like you because I feel like I could be your equal. And, well, clearly you don't feel that."
He bit his tongue. Riley did feel that, but he couldn't say that! How could he tell a girl who wasn't even seventeen yet that he wanted to be with her?
Dawn grunted. Standing up, she trudged closer to him. In this small room, where the towers of books leaned and swayed precariously, Riley was afraid of moving around. He stayed put, even though she stopped with only a few precious inches of space between them. "Say what you mean. For once. Be open with me."
"Dawn, I can't do that," Riley groaned, tempted to slide out the door and head anywhere but here.
She looked up at him, through his lashes. "Riley. Please. If you don't like me, just tell me. I just wish you wouldn't have led me on, if you really don't like me," she said. Reaching for the doorknob, Dawn added, "but you seem incapable of doing that. See you around."
No. It's not ending like this. Her hand latched on the doorknob, and Riley's fingers laced around her wrist. "No," he muttered. "Don't."
"Don't what? Leave? I feel devalued! You care more about my age than you do about us having something! We could have something really nice," she said, yanking her hand off of the doorknob and away from Riley's grip. "Either let me out of here, or talk."
Riley let his head hang. "I'm in love with you," he breathed.
The hand she was in the midst of withdrawing paused midair. "What did she say?" she asked, slowly and quietly.
"I'm in love with you," he repeated, his face growing hot. Logic was losing, and it was losing quickly at that. "Dawn, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt myself. I know that age is a number, especially with you. You're independent and motivated. You are incredibly mature, but…the trouble is, age is still a number. You're sixteen. Legally, if I touch you, look at you, even think of you in the wrong way, I'm as good as ruined," he said. "People will call you a whore. Your friends will make fun of you for dating someone older. Do you really want that?"
She tipped her head back, looking at him through the dark fringe of her bangs. Her eyes were flinty and her mouth set itself in a thin, judgmental line. "How many people are traditionally in a relationship?" she asked.
"Dawn, seriously, just—"
She cut him off by grabbing at the front of his jacket, looking at him with a chilly expression. "Two, Riley. There are two people in a relationship. It's between us two."
"People will still talk," he said quietly. He grasped at her hands as they clenched on his lapels.
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Riley. People have talked about me for ages. Maybe I'm famous, but I'm sure not popular."
"What happens when it's your friends? Your parents?" he challenged her.
"Then they're not worth my time," she responded, her hands tightening on this labels. With a sigh, she ducked her head against his chest, her forehead resting between her their interlocked hands. "Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter won't mind," she quoted.
He stood there, uncertain of what to do. It's your funeral, he wanted to say, but Riley wanted to believe her. It sounded so simple when she said it didn't matter to her, what people would think. "Do you really want this?" he asked her quietly. He wanted her to say no. He didn't want to start something like this, only to have it end badly.
"Yes," she said.
Riley sighed. He released her hands and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "Damn it," he muttered. Laying his cheek on top of her head, he sighed heavily. "This is a bad idea."
"I know that," she said. After a moment's pause, she asked, "Can you maybe loosen your grip on me a bit? I'm kind of still squished up against your chest."
Riley smiled, loosening his grip so she could free her arms. With her freed arms, she reached up, cupped his face with her hands, and stood on tip-toe to press a kiss to his chin. "If it doesn't work, whatever the reason we can go back to being friends. You're too important to me to lose."
Riley's doubts weren't quelled, but his desires were satiated. Ignoring the nauseating combination of feelings, he ducked his head to kiss her lips. She smiled through it.
He had no idea how this would work out, but he prayed that it would work out for the better.
A/N: Hello, it is I, Mars. I have written...a problematic short for you of Ironwillshipping! I ship this ship, but, uh, let's face it. Riley's at least 20 and Dawn looks like a 14 year old. Age differences that aren't okay when one part of the pairing is not legally an adult yet. So, with this fic, I explored how very few relationships of this nature are established healthily.
I wrote an unlikely scenario-the younger one somewhat manipulates the older one into being into a relationship. Contrary to popular belief spread by many privileged white men, in relationships where one member is significantly younger or underage. Going by how I headcanon Dawn and seeing Riley as being a pretty gentle and inoffensive dude, it would've been weird to write Riley somewhat manipulating someone else into a relationship.
It's supposed to be open-ended. It's supposed to be frustrating. It could work out (since I ship them, yeah, assume things work out all right for them). It might not work out. It's a vignette, really.
Also, for those of you following A Sign of The Times, I promise I'm still working on it, and I'm about ready to update now, actually. October wasn't a good month. Judging by the next few weeks and next month, though, updates are still going to be slow. I apologize for that.
Until next time, behave yourselves!