A/N: Hello lovely reader! This is one of my very first fan-fictions to be posted on this site. I know it may be kind of weird to focus on a high school AU when Pokemon is all about adventure and self discovery, but this is my first time putting one of my story idea's down on paper (figuratively speaking). I would very much appreciate reviews that offer constructive criticism, as I am always looking to improve, but please don't leave anything hateful or negative. Everyone should be allowed to get their idea's out there, and if this story isn't to your liking, then go read something else.

This is kind of a band fic, but including actual song lyrics isn't allowed via the site rules, but I will refer to the songs so you can listen to them and visualize the scene if you want to, or to just see where I got my inspiration from.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, the characters you read about, or the songs referred to. Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Gamefreak, and the songs belong to their respective artists.

Also, anything written in italics are either the thoughts of the character, flashbacks or someone singing. If the text is enclosed in a double apostrophe (""), it is being spoken out loud. If something is written in bold and italics, that is for emphasis.

Now without further ado, onto the story!

Chapter 1: Waiting

Paul

Too bright, was my first conscious thought. My second thought was, Too damn hot.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes a crack, only to be instantly blinded by that garish ball of light in the sky. My bedroom just happened to be facing the exact direction of the rising sun. After my eyes adjusted, I noticed that my curtains, which I had purposely closed the night before were now inexplicably wide open.

"God I hate my brother sometimes," I mumbled to myself.

He was the only likely culprit for my un-welcomed morning. I threw off my sheets immediately. It was far too hot in my room on the second floor of the house. All the hot air rose up in the summer and turned it into a walk-in oven. I turned my head and glared at my alarm clock.

"8 freakin' A.M," again, speaking to myself. Getting up this early during summer should be a crime, even if it is almost over.

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, instantly feeling the hardwood floor against my heels. I stood up begrudgingly, and walked over to my dresser, pulling out a plain black t-shirt and slipping it on. Despite being ridiculously hot upstairs, we did have air-conditioning, although it really only worked on the first floor. Upstairs was too hot, downstairs was too cold. Making a simple pair of black track pants very inappropriate for the journey down the stairs.

I reached for a small case on my dresser and used the product inside, immediately seeing better once I did so. I swung open the door to my medium sized room and left it open, hoping a little bit of air could get in. I then proceeded downstairs, where my favorite part of the day was just about to start.

Yelling at my arrogant, annoying, self-riotous brother Reggie.

With each step I took, the hardwood of the stairs got colder and colder, until I was basically standing on ice. But I didn't mind, being upstairs in the dying heat made the cool temperature of the first floor welcoming. Little did I know that my morning was about to get much worse than the sun waking me up.

As I walked through the living room towards the kitchen, an annoying sound was getting louder and louder. And the closer I got, the more obnoxious it became. Whatever it was, I literally had to cover my ears to drown out the upbeat, sugar coated lyrics that were no doubt coming from my older brother's laptop. He must have a death wish this morning, I thought, as I stepped into the kitchen.

And there he was. Sitting on a bar stool situated at the island in our kitchen, eating breakfast and staring at his laptop like he wasn't doing anything wrong. He had on his usual pink shirt and khaki's, and his dark purple hair was pulled back. Anyone else would think he was innocent looking, but I knew better. I had seen that smug smirk on his lips far too many times to foresee this morning as anything less than an attempt to get on my nerves. A very good attempt.

"Turn that crap off!" I ordered, hands still firmly clamped to the sides of my head.

"And good morning to you too princess. How am I you ask? Oh fine, thanks for asking my dear little brother. Did you sleep well?" he sarcastically replied.

"I'm serious, whatever you're listening to, turn it off. It's making me sick." I could just barely hear the lyrics. "Tick Tock, on the clock," Oh god, what is this?

Thankfully, my brother was merciful and hit pause.

"Ya know, despite your hatred of pop music, other people actually like to listen to this stuff," Reggie said, finally turning to look at me.

"Yeah, well they're wrong. Wrong or brain-dead. Or both," I replied monotonly as I made my way to the cupboard behind him.

"You don't even know who the artist is," Reggie argued, watching me as I fixed myself breakfast.

"I don't have to. The instrumental is mixed beyond recognition, the lyrics are shallow and meaningless, and I bet that girl singing it has never picked up a musical instrument in her entire life."

"Why do I even bother? Getting into these arguments with the music critic from hell is like trying to calm down a raging Tauros," he replied, turning back towards the computer screen.

"I don't know. False hope that maybe you're going to win an argument against me?" I replied smugly. Successfully finding a bowl and cereal, I walked to the fridge for milk.

"For your information, the girl singing this won a competition last year. It's for some prestigious performing arts school over in Hearthome. They obviously think that it's good music," Reggie retorted. Will this conversation never end?

"There are also people who think that ghosts are real and the moon landing was faked. People have opinions, they just happen to be pathetic one's," I said, hopefully ending this conversation. I closed the fridge door and sat down on another bar stool on Reggie's right side.

"You're so stubborn," Reggie sighed.

Like this was news to him? I thought as I ate my cereal. Truthfully, stubbornness was a trait we both shared, obvious from the fact that we argued almost every day. It wasn't violently so, just the way siblings do. Then eventually, one of us would let it go. We were stubborn but we didn't hold grudges against each other. After all it was only us in this house.

As I went through the motions of eating, I got lost in thought. I did that a lot. I'd just always been more of a thinker and a listener. Actually, talking to my brother would usually be the most I would say all day. I was pretty much the definition of a loner. Veilstone city wasn't exactly the safest place to live, despite how big it was. Sure there were nice parts of the city, but we just so luckily happened to live in one of the sketchier neighborhoods. Don't get me wrong, there were way worse, ours just wasn't what you'd call friendly.

I didn't mind being alone though. In fact I preferred it. Everything that made me who I was, I did not want to share with other people. Plus, there weren't a whole lot of people in the city who I'd want to be friends with. They were all either too good or too bad. I fell somewhere in the middle, which was rare in this city. It just seemed like everyone here was either one or the other.

My life here was just fine though. I spent most of my time either alone or with Reggie, and I was content with that. Besides, it wasn't like I spent all my time doing nothing when I was alone. I was a musician. I spent almost all of my time playing music, writing music, and even recording it a little. But my tastes were very, well, complicated.

It's not the genre that I judged it on; it was more about the message. Music is all about feelings, and communicating things that are too hard to say. When a sleazy pop artist tries to sell their track, and it's all about getting drunk, or high, or having meaningless sex, the end result doesn't sound like music, it's just noise. Pathetic, empty noise. That's what I really hated, and Reggie knew that, he just liked to rile me up. It gave him some sort of sick amusement. Which brought my thoughts back to the window…

"Take a look at this," Reggie said suddenly, bringing me out of my train of thought.

"What?" I said as I leaned over to look at the screen. It was some sort of website with professional lettering for all the text. Hearthome Performing Arts Academy, it read at the top.

"It's that school I was talking about less than 5 minutes ago. Seriously, where do you go when you zone out like that, the moon?"

"Why are you looking at that school's website?" I asked rather annoyed. Simultaneously, I jumped off of the stool and headed to the sink, breakfast having been finished during previously mentioned zone-out.

"Because it's interesting. It says here that Hearthome academy is one of the top 10 schools in the world for performing arts. And it's not just acting and singing, they have programs for art, all types of instruments, dance, and it's all fit into a legitimate high school curriculum," Reggie went on.

"Uh huh," I replied, only half listening as I rinsed out my bowl.

"Every year they hold a big competition for everyone in the music program. That girl who won last year got a chance to record her demo."

I started to listen now. Not only was what Reggie saying intriguing, but the tone of voice he was speaking in caught my attention as well. It was that tone he used when he had an idea.

"Seems like everyone at that school is getting good training in what they want to do. And at such a highly recommended school, their chances of succeeding in a hard business are better too."

I abandoned my bowl in the sink, and moved around to the front of the island, standing directly across from where my brother sat. "Where are you going with this?" I asked, pretty sure I already knew the answer.

"Where do you think I'm going?" he replied. His voice turned oddly serious.

"Something tells me you didn't just discover that school this morning, did you?" I said, slowly figuring out his game.

"Well... no. Truth be told, a good friend of mine mentioned it a few weeks ago. I was just waiting for the right time to bring it up," he admitted.

Good friend? I thought. No doubt it was Maylene, she was like the only friend he had. But that was besides the point at the moment. Suddenly all the things that had happened to me this morning were starting to make sense.

"So your idea of a 'good time' to bring it up, is right after you piss me off by blinding me with sunlight and making my ears bleed with obnoxious music?" I asked, while placing my hands on the island. "No offence, but your persuasion skills need some work."

"It's a good school Paul," Reggie spoke seriously, something he didn't do often. "And it focuses on something you're good at."

"I'm already at school, which starts in like, 2 and half weeks," I responded logically.

Where is this even coming from? All this time he was plotting to send me away to some stuck-up school in one of the biggest cities in Sinnoh? So much for brotherly love.

"You go to public school; I'm talking about an elite music school. One that I know you could get into if you wanted to."

"What makes you think I want to?"

"Paul. You're a good student, but we've both known for a long time that music was the one thing you really wanted to pursue. Public school is so limited in that field, but this school could be an amazing opportunity. You could actually have a career if you got in!"

"I didn't ask you to plan out my life for me," I replied.

"No, but as your guardian, I only want what's best for you."

"You think what's best for me is to be shipped off, alone, to some prissy school 2000 miles away? Shows how much you care." I was getting really mad now. Not only was he going behind my back, but now he was acting like my parent. This morning just kept getting worse and worse.

"You've always been fine on your own. And do you really want to stay in Veilstone for the rest of your life? You and I both know you don't belong here."

He stood up and walked around the island. We both stood at 5'9, despite our age difference of eight years, he being 23 and I being 15.

"You're talented Paul. You said that girl's song was no good, because you know that you're better. That you can be better. You should at least apply, there's no harm in that!"

He really wanted this for me. In that moment I found myself at war. On one hand, I understood why Reggie was so adamant. And I knew some of the stuff I'd written was way better than what that girl had sung in that video. But on the other hand, the one that was winning the war, I was still angry. I didn't need anyone telling me where to go and who to be. That uncompromising part of my brain refused to be bossed around. I turned away from my brother, not having a good reason to deny applying to this snobbish school other than my own stubbornness.

"Forget it," I said as I started to walk away. My life here was fine. I was content with the way things were, and I was confident enough in my own abilities to make it as a musician without that school. Call me egotistical, stubborn; I may have been all of those things. But I was not desperate.

"You know if she was here, she'd want you to go."

I froze mid-step. If I could speak I'd curse my brother for playing that card, but just the mention of her rendered me unable to.

"She always thought you were really talented. And, it was always her dream to study music more as well," Reggie said, knowing he was chipping away at the stubborn wall I had put up.

"If you got in, she'd have been really proud."

I sighed heavily. Although I won most of our arguments, if Reggie ever really wanted me to do something, all he'd have to do is mention her, and I'd do it. He didn't even need to say her name, just the inference of her or she, and I would cave. He didn't do it often, only when he felt it was really important would he result to guilting me. And apparently, this counted as really important.

"Just saying'," was Reggie's last remark, made rather triumphantly I might add. I walked back up the stairs to my room, trying to push away the thoughts Reggie had just planted in my head. First thing I did was take a cold shower, trying to cut the constant heat of the second floor.

She'd have been proud, Reggie's words echoed in my head.

Of course she'd be proud, I thought to myself. Music was one of her favorite things.

Shut up! I thought to myself. Do NOT let him guilt you into this, not this time. I don't want to go to this school. It's my choice, not his.

After my shower, I got dressed in black jeans and the same black shirt I threw on this morning. I opened the window in my bedroom to try to vent out some of the humid air. I leaned against the window frame and slowly looked around the room that had been mine for 15 years.

It was very plain and very clean. White walls with dark wood furniture. In the center of the wall directly opposite me, white sheets and a navy blue comforter lay on a double bed. The door to my bathroom was beside the door to the hall on the left wall. A desk sat against the same wall in the corner beside the window, across from which on the right wall sat a dark wood dresser. Beside the dresser sat my most important possessions.

Two guitars. One was an electric with a deep, shiny onyx body and a silver neck. I saved up the money for two years to buy half, only to have Reggie front me the rest for my birthday last year. The other was a classic acoustic guitar, which I'd had for a lot longer. It was more familiar, as it used to belong to her.

God, stop thinking about it!

But I couldn't and I knew it. She was everywhere, and Reggie knew that bringing her up would force me to think about her. Only when I did what he asked would the thoughts go away and I could be in peace again. Not that I hated her. It was just… hard to think about her.

She'd want you to go, she'd want you to go, she'd want you to go…

"Damn it," I swore out load.

I was caving. I couldn't even find the energy to be mad at Reggie; I was too busy being mad at myself. I really was pathetic, to be so easily controlled. I grabbed my laptop off of my desk and flopped down on my bed. I opened up the web browser and searched "Hearthome Performing Arts Academy", which brought me to the website Reggie and I were looking at earlier. I scrolled down and started to read.

Hearthome Academy was founded by the family of the cities local gym leader Fantina, who felt that those who have talent needed to be taught in the proper environment in order for their talents to become that of professionals. Instead of focusing on the mandatory courses such as English, science, and history, the school offers a program specific curriculum, as well as teaching the necessary secondary high school courses, but with more focus on the fields that the student is most interested in.

Basic info really, but it sounded like an ideal course load. I scrolled down to 'Programs of Choice'.

As a performing arts academy, our field specific curriculum includes studies in Music, Drama, Dance, and Visual Arts. The students who get accepted into the academy get to craft their own schedules based on what their interests are. For example, if a student wished to become a musician, they would get to pick from several classes such as Vocal Instruction, Music Theory, Creative Writing as well as instrumental classes for string, brass, woodwind and percussion.

I really hated to admit it. Like, really hated it, but this school actually sounded good. But the more I started to like it, the more tension started to build up in me. This school was so professional and very exclusive, not to mention expensive. I knew I was good, but even if I got in to this school, how would I even pay for it? It's not like Reggie and I were that well off. God, now I'm actually considering going. Reggie is never gonna let me live this down.

"So predictable," his voice sounded from beside me. Speak of the devil, I thought to myself.

"Get out," I didn't even look up from the screen. I was already beating myself up; I did not need his gloating right now.

"Does it bother you that I can manipulate you so easily?"

I responded by whipping a pillow at his face, a childish but satisfying comeback as he did not see it coming.

"Alright, alright," he conceded, giving up his taunting for the moment.

"You know even if I do get in, we have no way to pay for this," I said, struggling to hide the disappointment in my voice.

"Not to fear bro, they have a scholarship program for people who can't pay to go."

"Great, now I'm a charity case," I said with a little humor in my voice.

"Relax; lots of people go on scholarship. It's a pretty wealthy school after all," Reggie responded.

I continued to scroll for application information. "It says I need to send an audition tape of my work with all the application paperwork," I read.

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem for you. I think the biggest problem with that will be deciding what to send in," Reggie responded proudly. He then turned out of my room and walked down the stairs, understanding that I needed some time alone to think about this.

I would pretty much define myself as a serious person. But I was most serious about music. Whatever I decided to send in, I would put everything I had into it. Doing things half-way just wasn't who I was. I grabbed the black, leather-bound pocket book off of my bedside table and proceeded to flip through it. Skipping, the first page I started to skim the rest of the pages. All of the music and lyrics I'd ever written was in written in there. The admission information had said that I needed to send in something that was 2 minutes maximum, along with all my transcripts and written work. I stopped flipping when I came to one page near the center of the book.

If I just shortened it a little, and then slowed down the tune, I thought to myself as I reworked the song in my head. Yeah, this could work. But I'll do that last.

The other things that were required for the admission was a written essay, which I polished off in about an hour, and all of my transcripts which I had in my possession anyway. By about noon, all the written work for my application was complete, printed and ready to be sent; all that was left was the sample. Which to record I moved to the basement, taking my acoustic with me.

Ironically, the basement had the most normal temperature out of the whole house. Something to do with being well insulated I guess. It was neither too hot nor too cold. It wasn't beautiful, having concrete walls and floor,, but it had good acoustics which was why Reggie didn't mind that I moved some recording stuff down here. It was pretty quick to set up, with microphones set to catch the song and the recording device ready to tape, all I had to do was play. I slung my guitar across my lap while I sat down on a stool I'd moved down there. And as easily as breathing was, I started to play.

(Waiting For A Girl Like You- original song by Foreigner, but for the sake of the story I based it off the Glee version)

I pressed stop on the recording. I rewound it and played it back. It was good, but the perfectionist part of my brain thought it could be better. I redid the recording 6 times before I finally decided on the best take. From there it was simply burning it onto a CD for submission. Along with the CD and all the written work, I copied down the lyrics and musical score from my book. I figured a hard copy of the material couldn't hurt my chances. By about 3:00pm, I had everything I needed.

I put all the paper work and the CD into a manila envelope, then copied down the shipping address from the website. And then I was done. My application was ready and it was out of my hands. I slipped on my black skater shoes and headed down the stairs.

"I'm going out!" I yelled to the house. Instead of waiting to see whether my brother heard me or not, I headed out the door.

In retrospect, I could've just skateboarded down to the mailbox, as the nearest one was a few blocks away, but I didn't mind walking. It gave me a chance to think.

Realistically, they probably wouldn't accept me. The school must have gotten hundreds of applications a day, from people with more money and just as much talent as I had. And although I wasn't even sure that I wanted to go to this school at all, the chance that I could get in nagged at the back of my head. According to that website, this school wasn't just exclusive, it was huge. Apparently it rivaled some university campuses. It was one of those live-in schools, so it wasn't like I'd be homeless if I ended up going. But still, I was not going to get my hopes up on a long shot, especially when I wasn't even sure I wanted to go.

The mailbox was in sight. And I was pretty sure I'd made my decision about how to deal with the situation. If I did got in, I'd go. If I didn't, I wouldn't care. Either way my life would go on. And I simply wasn't the type of person to dwell on rejections. I opened the mailbox and slid the package in. I let go of the lid and listened to the *thunk* of my package hitting the base of the metal container.

Well, it was done. And no matter what, I thought as I made my way back home, I would have no regrets.

A/N: And that finishes chapter one. Now, this is an ikarishipping story, so I think you may have guessed by now that Paul is going to be a little OOC. But any ikarishipper knows that in order to make the pairing work, he has to be a little out of character every time. Which is why I love the ship so much! Its very interesting and entertaining to read everyone's take on what Paul would really act like if the relationship ever happened, since we didn't get a lot of development for him in the anime. This story is going to explore the character of Paul, and why he is the way he is. I look forward to continuing this story!