Hey guys, it's me, Jesspikapal, but you probably already knew that! ;)

Okay, so, Wishfulshipping suddenly sprung to mind, so here we go... granted, I was listening to Phineas and Ferb when writing this so... if anything, I should've been writing Phineas and Ferb. That would've been better... but Pokemon it is. I somewhat begrudgingly post this here, and hope you fans (I totally meant of Wishfulshipping...) enjoy it to whatever degree.

That's all from me! Oh, and this will be short.

~Jess~

X x

Blink - "It's funny how the best of times are often gone in the blink of an eye, yet remembered for a lifetime."

X x

Iris frowned. The memories had not stopped all day. Cilan was stuck in her head; his casual stance, his refined air and his eccentric personality, all drilled into the deepest cranny of her mind. But could she really complain? Could she? Or was she simply reluctant to capitulate to the thought of him existing in her mind? She wasn't sure... but one thing she did know:

He and her had the best memories possible.

Like the time she purposefully shovelled a Purrloin in Cilan's pillow on April Fools Day:

He had complained for quite a while already about it being lumpy and "unsavoury for a fellow Connoisseur's head" and had then tossed and turned indignantly for a full ten minutes, before caving and picking the damn thing up. She could remember the surprise etched onto his pale face when his pillow twitched; he dropped it in fear.

"Iris! Ash! My pillow! It's alive!" he screamed, before jumping to his feet and dashing behind a tree, adjusting his bow-tie habitually when he arrived behind it. He shuddered as it twitched ambiguously again, before inching towards it, spotless shoes slowly shuffling forwards and towards his beloved pillow. His slow stagger, like an endless embark, had been the tie-breaker for Iris. She had burst out laughing, the sound loud and off-key when compared to the gentle hum of nature surrounding the fellow trainers.

Ash simply stared ahead at the moving item, curious yet interested, that same clueless glint in his dirt-brown eyes, while Iris mooched over to the now wary Connoisseur, picking up the pillow in question and slowly, almost teasingly, beginning to unravel the material, a highly mischievous grin on her face. His face was the picture of horror as a violet ear peeped out of the cotton folds. Iris' eyes had darkened playfully at this, her body jerked forwards and towards him as she muttered:

"April Fools."

The words spoken, Cilan shrieked, fleeing from what he knew was in there. His biggest fear... the evil of all evils. Why would Iris do that to him? No! He told himself, It was simply a joke! She was playing with him – just having fun! … so why had she looked so cold? The way he saw it, there was a fine line between humour and spite and he wasn't sure where to class her actions. Hesitantly, he stopped running and regained his composure – he hadn't gone far at all, but far enough to not be able to hear the giggles of the tan-skinned female. Not hearing her laughter... was something he found very odd; he was always there to experience her moments of pure happiness... it felt weird not being there. He wasn't sure if he was glad or not... what was he supposed to feel?

However, the rest of that day progressed pretty normally. She had been nice and bubbly and fun as per usual, and had even taken her rightful place beside him as if nothing had happened; at first, he had frowned, thinking she had another trick up her sleeve, but slowly began to relax once he realised she was out of that frame of mind, and had been for a little while since his private mulling some yards away...

Yeah... that'd been great. And she could never forget the time when he braided her hair for her in a pretty plait, her violet tresses no longer unruly and otherwise "untidy".

"Cilan, quit it, it's annoying!" she shrieked, shuffling and refusing to cooperate with his working hands. Flowers, beads and multiple hair ties already occupied her hair (not that she wasn't used to things occupying her hair) and it was making her squirm to think that such feminine accessories lurked in her brilliant lockes.

The young man had scoffed playfully. "You know, though I personally find your hair perfect the way it is, others feel differently. Some actually find it quite a... strange style. And "strange" usually means it has an unpleasant aroma..." he trailed, his fingers working their magic as he weaved her hair gently, one section over the other rhythmically. She had rolled her eyes at his usual metaphors, though a smile at the thought of being truly accepted by others crept onto her face craftily.

"All right, all right..." she pretended to surrender, her hands striking a defensive pose ahead of her chest. "I'll hang still. But tell anybody I let you do this, I'll deny it!" she joked, reaching behind her and flicking his chest playfully. He had grinned good-naturedly, nodding.

"Deal." he then smiled more sincerely. "You can look pretty in my mind only. They'll never know." he added a little wink onto the end of his sentence to make it seem lighter. He had been so honest in that moment, he had surprised even himself. Against her better judgement, her cheeks had fuelled with the slightest patch of colour, before she nodded quickly and turned away, her hands clasped tightly together.

She had felt so warm... so full of meaning. And it felt good.

Very good.

Truthfully, if she concentrated hard enough, she could still feel his spindly fingers entangled within her hair... Axew's "home" as it was. And she hadn't even tried to stop him from invading, aside from her meek attempt at the "that's irritating" façade. But she hadn't particularly wanted him to stop... so she supposed it made sense that she hadn't made more of an effort to make her performance more believable.

But those memories (amongst several more), though golden and unforgettable, were gone now. She couldn't bring that time back, nor could she rebuild it or recreate it. It saddened her to think that she could have paid better attention to detail and really soaked the scene in, instead of just being able to recall it when she was bored, unoccupied, or lonely. To think it had all been gone within seconds. Mere blinks in time. But perhaps that was what made the memory so beautiful... the fact that it was even traceable to begin with. It made her smile, even now as she laid in her large bed in her 'home' as The Champion.

Laid there thinking. Laid there remembering. Laid there reminiscing. Laid there wishing she could perhaps take a particular moment and just materialise it before her very eyes. Laid there missing him. Her Connoisseur. Cilan.

And blinking soundly all the while.

X x

Okay, this is satisfactory for me, so deal with it. :P

And good that it's out of my system now... please don't ask for updates on numerous occasions; it'll probably be a very long time, if never, that I get inspiration to update this again. It's probably lucky this pitiful piece exists, actually, haha. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my meagre attempt at fitting back in with the Wishful-crowd.

Ciao!

~Jess~