DISCLAIMER:I OWN 493 POKÉMON... BUT I DON'T OWN POKÉMON.

Yes, title's a song reference to Jason Derulo. What of it?

This is just a short I threw together for Waveripples of Team Sunrise's contest (shorten your name. PLEASE.) Anyway, I don't really know about this. It seems alright, but seems to leave to be desired. I just can't be sure. I really like how it ends, so I can't extend it. Oh, well.

The cold night was all I felt, and I relished every single moment of it. It calmed me down and gave time to think. But this time, I didn't actually have anything to think of. I was just out to enjoy the night. Which is exactly what I did.

"Hi, Atrer*,"

I took a glance behind me, and grunted at the blue ringed umbreon. Noire** took this as an invitation, and came to sit down next to me. She glanced at me curiously.

"Doing anything?" she asked. I let out a chuckle.

"Sitting down, feeling the night, and being annoyed by an umbreon." came my reply. The last statement came out as a sort of afterthought, but I suppose it cut quite deeply anyway. Her ears drooped visibly, at least. She shivered slightly.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked. The night was twenty-five degrees. It certainly wouldn't feel very good to any non ice type. Me being a weaville, I relished it.

She shook her head, but then shivered wildly.

"Okay... maybe just a little," she replied. I sighed.

"Go back inside. You'll feel a fair bit better, you realize. You're not even doing anything productive here, anyway,"

She nodded, then walked away. But it was obvious she felt sad. Maybe rejected, even. I felt a twinge of guilt, but shook it off. She was annoying, anyway. Her efforts would almost definitely be better spent somewhere else. If only she would notice I didn't want her near me.

As the moon began to sink, I walked back towards my home. We both lived in a particularly odd shaped building known as the Wigglytuff guild. My, what a lovely, intimidating name that was. I could feel myself die inside thinking of it. Of course, under that lied a pretty thick layer of prestige. We were the only guild to have created a Master Rank team. And an incredibly strong one to boot. After all, they did save the world. Twice. Noire and I were in the same exploration team, well on their way to becoming obtaining the Master Rank. Come to think of it, if only she was always like she was on our missions, life would be so much better. She was always one hundred per cent focused, thinking of nothing but the task on hand. But then it occurred to me.

What if she was that focused all the time?

~S.C~

It was a day off today. We had all gone our separate ways to pass the day doing whatever we wanted. For me, that was combat skills. For Noire... it was me.

"So what are you planning on today?" Arceus, she was persistent. And, as always, annoying.

"What I'm planning on? I'd say... having some personal time. Alone."

Having pushed her away yet again, I made my way to the target range. The sound of snow crunched below my feet as I walked, and I remembered how she stayed with me despite the weather.

What did she find in me?

I growled, trying to force the thoughts out of my head. I didn't want contemplation time. I wanted target practice. I stood my usual distance from the elevated bags of sand- they were roughly the size of a dinner plate. Hard to hit? I didn't think so. I had trained my aim to make sure I always hit what I aimed for. Size was a moot point.

I formed three shards of ice in the palm of my hand. Threw them. Three muffled thunks sounded back and I examined my handiwork. They were virtually dead center. I threw another volley, this time five in rapid succession. Five solid hits, all within half an inch of the center. I grinned inside. I formed seven this time, but as I threw, I suddenly began to think of Noire. I had turned her away so... brutishly. But whatever. I didn't want her... did I? I was a loner. Born one, raised one. But still...

Two hit center. Three hit the edges. The last two flew wide. I growled. Formed nine shards threw them all. Thought of Noire's as I turned her away. Six wide misses. Three just barely hit. My brow knitted in frustration. Why was I missing so much? I tried to throw another nine. Only two even managed to embed themselves in the target. Noire... a single shard of ice out of fifteen touched the target. Why do you...?

Twenty five shards.

Twenty five misses.

Why are you on my mind like so?

Is it maybe... just maybe...

Even I don't know how I feel any more. These feelings.

Are they really...

*for your knowledge it's pronounced ah-trur

**slightly altered form of the french word for "black". Pronounced "nwar"