Equanimity, Chapter 29

Whenever he saw her smile, it made his chest hurt.

Whenever he saw her with Gary, it made him furious.

Whenever he saw her, he hated himself.

Emotions were...hard even though Paul always believed himself to be smart, at least, smarter than Ash. To be so emotionally stunted was an absolute surprise. She looked beautiful without ever trying.

Now why couldn't he say that to her instead? It was his fault, he was the one that freaked the poor girl out.

Muttering I love you to someone he barely knew. Was he crazy?

Yet, part of him knew that he didn't barely know Dawn, they had known each other for years—but for at least three quarters of it, he was a stoic asshole, and she followed him around aimlessly, because she wanted to get to know him better. She put up with all his mood swings, his complaints, his inadequacies as a trainer, his growing affection for his pokemon, and his inability to open up. Over all, she had been a wonderful friend over the years—someone he maybe admired.

Loved though? Was he crazy?!

Paul kicked a trash can, making a young child in the park beside it begin to cry, causing a multitude of angry glares from the parents. He raised his hand thoughtlessly and slipped away with a sorry.

That talk with Gary yesterday only made him more furious than ever. Acting so cool and snide—like he knew Dawn better than Paul did! He wondered if Gary knew that Dawn liked to go for a walk first thing in the morning, or liked to make home-made snacks for her pokemon instead of store-bought ones. He wondered if Gary knew that when Dawn got really excited her nose would crinkle—or when she got really happy her voice would crack like a pubescent boy. Or that she prepared silly cheers for every match her friends participated in—urging them to win.

God, he missed having her around. But he would never willingly admit that, would he?

Paul rubbed his face, trying to ward the tiredness from his eyes. How could he be here, in Goldenrod City!? He wasn't some kind of stalker—he should have been in the Hoenn region, celebrating his victory as champion there—only, his victory was hardly advertised, because unlike Ash Ketchum, Paul had the emotional spectrum of a potato. Typically, he wasn't trying to impress anyone, or win any popularity contests, but they didn't even interview him after the match. They interviewed the guy that he beat.

See, this was the reason Paul didn't like relationships, they clouded his mind and his judgment. He obtained one of his greatest feats, and instead of being happy about it; he felt more isolated than ever. Which is where the problem began—Paul genuinely enjoyed being alone. People's opinions of him, or preferences didn't mean anything. He liked that people avoided him—but for once, maybe he sort of wanted some attention.

Not for his battling for once—but just for Dawn to talk to him.

He would be damned if he tried to start that conversation though. Maybe they would bump into one another and she would explain what happened.

Not that he needed an explanation! It wasn't like he really felt anything—nothing at all! He was perfectly comfortable by himself!

Yet...her sudden change in persona could only be described as an immediate result of those three words he accidentally allowed to slip after they finished... doing whatever it was that they did!

Paul stopped mid-stride to brush his hair out of his face, and collect his thoughts.

He had no reason to be upset, after all, he partially started this—yelling at her for talking about relationships. For pestering him about his rival and his girlfriend, for constantly comparing herself to them, and talking nonstop about the party. Then she would switch into talking about contests, about what she wanted for the future—then she would pester and annoy him until...

Paul put his head down, standing below a bridge at the center of town, and then as his eyes lifted. He saw Dawn there; for a few moments he wondered if he was hallucinating, but she and piplup, and her two friends walked on.

For a second, he wanted her to wave—to acknowledge and greet him; but instead, she smiled and then walked away. Maybe he thought she waved. But to him, it looked more like she brushed her hair out of her face.

He waved awkwardly regardless. She was a nuisance that he missed.

This whole half a year was a mistake, a complete accident. If it wasn't because he had to travel though Pallet Town to get to the Hoenn Region, he would have never stopped in at Ash's celebration party. He wouldn't have seen Dawn—and he wouldn't have been kidnapped by Team Rocket.

The whole group of them made him weak and second-guess himself. Paul knew that relationships turned trainers into walking goo. It happened to his brother, Reggie, and now to Ash, his greatest rival. It dulled the senses and battle urgency, made people lose sight of their goals... but never Dawn. Her goals, her work, never wavered while she rambled on about relationships.

It was Paul who was effected the most by her need. Paul wasn't oblivious. He was well aware of Dawn's increasing touches throughout their short time together after the party in Pallet Town. Her innuendos, her comments. The way she carried herself. Suddenly, the small passing conversations, yelling and tantrums turned into low-key flirting and Paul wasn't stupid. He knew.

Only, he refused to give in. He wasn't like Dawn. If he went down that path, it was a rocky one, for sure. There was already so much that he couldn't stand about himself, trying to fit his mayhem into her shiny world was a bad idea.

...so why couldn't he pull away? His stoic personality and quick temper was the complete opposite of the blue-haired woman. It took him yelling at her to chase her away, only to run back to her; for her to slam the nail in his coffin.

He remembered being so...hurt—and by that he meant relieved—to see her go after that night together. Dawn needed someone in her life that would play along to her antics; join her on silly adventures, attend shopping events, not someone that rolled his eyes every time she gushed in that impressively cute way about pokemon-modeling. He tried so hard to make himself despicable in her eyes, and now, he hated himself for ever trying.

Great, self-loathing project, Paul, he really had everything worked out! Paul knew himself better than anyone, and someone as good as Dawn, would only be hurt by him.

That's why he knew, for Dawn's sake, or so he said, he had to cut ties. The only thing she had waiting for her with him, was pain, and heartache. Unfulfilled wishes, and rejection. Poetic as it was, he would never bring Dawn to his level. Not Dawn, not that happy-go-lucky woman he was so familiar with by this point.

Paul caught himself staring at where she was, and forced his feet to walk away.

Maybe he should be mad at her for leaving him the way that she did—but if she had stuck around, she would surely have grown to resent him. Most people did. The only exception to this rule was his pokemon—but he sometimes felt like they didn't know any better. He was so disconnected with society, the Hoenn league told him he didn't have to participate in any league meetings, he only had to show up for the occasional challenger.

That's what he wanted.

Right?

Paul, once again, kicked at the walk and rubbed his face. Sometimes, when it was dark and he was at his lowest, he felt like he wanted to change; dare he think it, be a bit more like Ash. Now, in the spirit of that, maybe a part of him planned to run to Goldenrod City to finally come clean, to finally be brutally honest and apologize for his behavior.

Not that he had anything to apologize for; she knew what she was getting into.

See, this is what he hated.

It consumed his very soul, thinking about Dawn now. Controlled his every thought.

Since that night a few months ago, he hadn't forgotten a moment. Dawn was his first kiss—he wasn't embarrassed to say that. And kissing her was just like he imagined it to be; not that he did. Kissing the sun. With every lean, she grew closer and closer, until finally, that warmth swallowed him up.

Yes, he was hurt to discover that it was Dawn who ran away. It was Dawn who abandoned him when he finally accepted her.

But it was his fault, because he gave her a reason to run.

You're cold, and you're mean, and maybe if you weren't such an asshole you wouldn't have problems being in a relationship—or being friends!

So, so you know what? I'm not sorry! You've been nothing but a jerk to me when I've been trying so hard to be nice to you! To think that I—I!

Paul squeezed his eyes shut, trying to mute the sound of Dawn's echo. He had wanted to talk with her again about their unsavory actions the night prior, but when he saw her, he was overcome with such an unbridled fury, he surprised himself with his inability to respond.

He was hurt, that was normal, right? Feeling hurt. Honestly, he felt like if Dawn was here now, she would laugh.

Laugh because in his stupor, he was right where she was, outside the contest arena, watching her on the big screen as she posed for the camera and started her match.

Laugh, because after complaining about relationships, he was the one aching with want.

Laugh, because his poor excuse of a life was sheltered by a shell of stoicism that was far from normal.

Paul squeezed his eyes shut, and with a jerk, he left the contest hall, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Dawn. The only girl that ever successfully got under his skin—the second went to Misty Waterflower, but only because he might have been slightly terrified of the bold woman, not because she filled him with the same feelings of gracious excitement that Dawn did.

Paul never knew what he was missing until he met Dawn, and she opened his eyes to so much more than he was used to.

He hated it.

Came all the way to Johto—only to back out—only to see that...that...researcher. Gary Oak, wasn't it? And Brock Harrison. Two people closest to Dawn, closer to Ash. A group Paul would never be welcome in—not as he was.

They caught him in action, caught him pinning—he couldn't deny his intention, not actually. When Gary approached him, he felt attacked and hostile. Like punching that smirk off his face was something a decent human being would do. Something that anyone but Paul would do—because Paul didn't care enough to start hitting people.

Paul was stoic, and cold...and mean.

He didn't punch people for insisting that he liked people—actually, Gary didn't imply he liked Dawn, just that he was looking for Dawn. Paul didn't like Dawn. He missed her company, the way her face lit up at camp fires, the awe in her voice when she would battle—how her little nuisance jabs were a safety net, the yin to his angry yang.

He wasn't in love with Dawn. He missed her.

Scoffing, Paul chewed the inside of his lip, forcing himself to leave the area she was nearest.

That was all.

XOX

Every morning Paul regretted his decision to drink the night prior. After his pining yesterday, he stumbled back to his hotel with a bottle of vodka and the decision to burn her image out of his mind the old fashioned way! Only now, he wanted to throw up. His body ached, he smelled of bad odor, and his head thumped loudly. Paul started drinking years before he was of age, and only recently he started doing it more often. To ease himself into sleep—if only it would curb the reoccurring nightmares.

Dawn. Everywhere.

He clutched his forehead, groaning and turning over to hide his face from the light.

How pathetic was he, laying down, rolling over, letting his emotions control him. He was stupid for ever having come to Johto region in the first place. He had no place here unless he was challenging the Elite Four, if he wasn't doing that, he should have left.

But he stuck around.

Clawing at the mattress, he forced himself up—his muscles flexing under the light. He moved with no grace to the small washroom tucked into the corner of his motel room, and struggled to find the shower. He left the lights off, since they were causing his eyes to bounce questionably and mauled the hot and cold tap relentlessly, head too foggy to figure out how to turn it into a shower, he collapsed into the tub, and kicked the stopper into the drain.

This was what he was reduced to: a league champion taking a bath in the middle of ho-town Goldenrod City, looking for a girl who clearly had no intention of ever speaking to him, and had already traded him up for something better.

He was no professional, but those pictures floating around the television looked an awful lot like a certain fucking professor's prodigal grandson and not-the-girl-that-he-liked with blue hair. When he saw them initially, he was so caught up in his own anger, he arrived flying on dragonite without thinking. Paul didn't know where to start looking, just that he was here, and pissed off.

Knowing that somewhere, Dawn was in town, probably doing the same thing as him made his stomach churn—she probably already left, off to do greater, better things.

A part of him wanted her to do better, greater things, and she certainly would have a better life with a pokemon professor than a dead-beat champion like Paul, anyways.

He should just go home, back to Sinnoh, challenge Cynthia and take over as regional champion. Paul waited for his muscles to guide him to the door, but they didn't budge, his toes wiggled in the hot water, but the rest of his body seemed comfortable soaking in the steaming tub for the rest of his visible life.

He should leave.

But he didn't.

XOX

The pharmacist who prescribed him medication for his migraine told him not to take them after drinking alcohol—but what did she know? Paul wasn't interested in her concerns, he wanted the throbbing in his head to stop. If there was a medication for the emptiness in his stomach—he would also take that.

Instead, he found the nearest cafe, and ordered anything but sweet food, and of course, his extra-large black coffee, with a million espresso shots. Somewhere between "Just give me a large cup of espresso" the cashier got confused, and handed him a pint-sized drink.

Paul was asked to leave after throwing it back at the barista, and only then did he realize Johto was a mess. He refused to believe that he was the one being idiotic, because what idiot didn't know that a large cup of espresso obviously meant a normal sized coffee—but the good stuff instead. Not that Paul cared what people thought of him, but if it was socially acceptable to be drunk by 9:00am, he would have started the day by throwing back a vodka and gin.

Did he really hate himself so much he had to be drunk to spend time with himself? Oh the irony behind that statement, considering the comment that started this regression was telling Dawn to get comfortable being alone because he was clearly the best at that!

Rubbing his temples, he felt the grating headache curb slightly as he swallowed a mouthful of water from the bottle he grabbed from a concession stand. Johto was famous for it's small street shops that seemed to be scattered everywhere down town, because opening a real shop, under a real roof, with real plumbing and windows was too much for the entire Johto region. Instead, everyone and their second-rate pokemon had a stand at the side of the street, selling anything and everything.

In his hazy stupor, he stumbled downtown, and knew that he had made a grave mistake. There were so many people. Downtown was Paul's own personal hell, and he only survived by reminding himself what Dawn would do—and that was not using magmortar to blow the entire place up. He had been through Johto once already, and never imagined facing the league again, so walking the growing streets of Goldrenrod City again was akin to a punishment.

Who was he kidding?

Paul needed to leave, sticking around would never amount to anything, and if he wanted to drink himself to death, he could think of many better places—like the Kalos region, where he could compete in the league, and knock Ash off his throne. Not that it would make him feel any better, but he could have a nice laugh about it, watching boy wonder fall flat on his face.

Instead, Paul leaned against the bench, held the bottle of water to his lips, and thought of a victory over the recent champion that would replace the hole in his heart. After all, he sure liked beating people at their own games.

It wasn't like him to worry about people, or girls—he was striving to be the real greatest pokemon master, after all. Ash talked a high game, but he was no-where near Paul's skill level, at least, not anymore. The kid had lost all sight, and all because of a girl.

Paul told himself he would never let that happen to him, not after Reggie, not after his defeat in Sinnoh. Certainly not now, and not ever. Paul had more now than he ever had before; skill, talent, a nearly unbeatable team. He hoped giving the mega-stones to Ash would remind the boy how much he loved battling, but from what Paul could see, Ash had forgotten about them. Forgotten about Paul, and their rivalry.

Alain was the better rival, he supposed. After all, Alain could actually use mega-stones. Paul could only collect them. Connecting with his pokemon? Impossible.

Caught up in his own head again, Paul shook off his thoughts, forced them into the smallest crevices of his mind, and took off again, this time, in the opposite direction of that morning. He would take every detour around the city, if that meant staying away from down town. He hated crowds. Sometimes he thought that he hated people in general, a little anti-social, but Reggie used to toss around words like asocial and introverted. Dawn was his living, breathing opposite, maybe that's why he was fascinated.

Not because he genuinely admired her confidence, poise, and work ethic. No, it was clearly because she was everything that he was not... not that he wasn't confident or...

His head hurt, and he had to stop thinking about Dawn. This would surely ruin him. Today was much, much worse because of the alcohol. He made a terrible decision.

Eventually, he found a seat at the edge of the forest, his stomach unsettled to the point that he felt the small breakfast, and lack of coffee returning to the back of his throat. He winced and leaned forward, smearing his face into his hands. He only imagined how he looked to the people around him—like some grueling monster hunched over on a bench, swearing.

Great example. It's no wonder the Hoenn region didn't even consider keeping him on, even as a consultant. Paul terrified people.

"Paul?" Great, to add to his complete and utter failure of a trainer, he was hearing voices.

"Paul?" the voice tried again, this time tugging on his shoulder. His eyes raced upward, and reached that of squinted eyes, and he wanted to fall into a hole.

Brock.

Of all the people. Paul breathed, forced down the vomit at the edge of his throat, and faced him with a scowl, pretending he wasn't as hungover as he was.

"What do you want?"

"Me? Oh, nothing. I was just wondering why you're collapsed under a tree. You look pretty sick." Brock sniffed twice. "Got into the booze, did'ya?"

Paul swatted his hand away, and scoffed.

"No. What made you think that?"

"You smell like alcohol, and you look like you're having the worst hangover of your life."

Paul's face flat lined, glaring relentlessly at Brock. Go away, his expression read, but instead, Brock took that as a chance to sit down. He set his school pack beside him, and smiled at Paul whose glare hadn't faltered in the slightest.

"Congrats for winning in Hoenn, by the way."

"Thanks.."

"Did you have a party?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Hmm." Brock hummed, "Maybe that's just a nice way of saying you didn't have any friends that would plan a party for you."
Again, with a scowl and glare so fierce, Paul could have burned holes through Brock's head.

"Dawn would have planned one for you."
"Well Dawn wasn't there!" He snapped, hearing her name on his lips made him absolutely livid.

Brock flinched that time.

"Man, it wouldn't kill you to lighten up a little, would it?"

It might kill him. He could implode really, there was no proof that said otherwise. Lightening up could very well kill him. Again, that might have been the hangover talking, his less sane and reasonable brain.

"Yes." he bit, clenching his teeth and hands to will his mind to focus. He had to leave. Stand up, and walk away. Instead, he sat rooted. His mind betrayed him; made everything turn in circles.

"I don't think that it would." Brock offered Paul a peace offering, a part of his sandwich, and against his better judgment, Paul took it.

"So, you and Dawn, huh?"

Paul took a bite of the sandwich and glared into the distance.

"Have you tried talking to her?" Brock asked, waited a few beats, and when Paul didn't answer he added.

"Have you tried talking at all?"

Paul gave him a look, feeling like he had lock jaw. A complete inability to speak. Brock was clearly on his way to school, and managed to find him. Paul should have hid behind the trees. Avoided this entire conversation.

Damn it.

Brock waited to see if Paul would bite at all, but when the Hoenn champion stayed focused on the sandwich and blowing grass, Brock sighed bitterly.

"You know... Dawn's a really good friend of mind, Paul, and I witnessed some very questionable decisions that she's made recently, she didn't really say why, or explain... but I don't think that she had to." Brock looked up at the sky, Paul watched him from the corner of his black eyes. "She's in a good place right now, I want nothing but the best for her."

Brock smiled, like a proud older brother then swiped his long hair back into a spike. "Dawn is getting ready to leave for Olivine City, finally focusing on herself, and I hate to see you so miserable but that fact that you're here it's just... concerning."

Earning his full attention, Paul looked worrisome at Brock, who took on a stony expression. "If you try to mess that up... I probably can't take you in a fight, but I've been told I can be very annoying."

"All I'm saying, is you're either in for the long haul, or you check out right now. You can't stalk her from the distance making both of you miserable. I won't let you push her into this kind of behavior again."
Paul wanted to ask what kind of behavior, instead he nodded, listening to Brock's words. Maybe it was just the spinning in his head; speaking was still off the table.

Silence.

"...Do you love her?" Brock asked, rubbing his chin.

Paul rolled his eyes, sitting back with an exhale he wasn't too proud of, and a groan. No, he definitely wasn't in love with her. He wasn't in Goldenrod City because he loved her he was here because he had business—business in the city that he had to attend to... like drinking, and skulking... and passing out drunk.

Paul rubbed his hair, folded his arms and closed his eyes. ...he might have been.

"I have no idea why." He finally spoke, and Brock smiled, with a pat on his shoulder.

"...So, what are you going to do if she doesn't feel the same way? That's why you're still here, right? Not just to get drunk and skulk around."

Paul tried to bury his surprise, but he was sure that his eyes betrayed him. Damn, this Brock was good.
He hadn't really, thought of that. He thought he drove her away, scared her off—but he never thought it was because she didn't really care for him. Just that he made her leave. The grand all assumption was that she truly cared about him—but if she left...what if she never really liked him at all? After all, he barely liked himself.

"Alright, well... I have to get to class—so, see you around I guess—Daisy's wedding, right?"

With that, Brock dusted off his pants, shouldered his bag, and left Paul without another word. He didn't have to say anymore.

It wasn't Paul's feelings he was so terrified of. It was Dawn's. What if she didn't love him? She made it pretty clear what she thought of him—but that didn't mean that she didn't care. She would have never gotten so angry if she didn't like him somewhat, right?

XOX

Paul was never a knee-jerk reaction kind of guy, but after hearing that she was traveling, he was up and refocused. He drank a few bottles of water to clear his head on the way to the train station, spent some time talking himself up, running away in fear, running back in desperation; and a little more time than he would ever admit puking into a garbage can.

By the time he arrived at the station, the train was already boarded, and prepared to leave. He blatantly refused to buy a ticket, and rushed onto the train before his brain could convince his heart to behave.

If Paul was a decent human being, he would leave Dawn alone, let her move on with her life; find new, greener pastures. However, Paul was inherently selfish, and like all humans, had some level of want and need to be accepted and loved.

Dawn was the only human he knew that never asked him to change, who accepted him for his hateful, intolerable self without asking for more, and yet, never put up with his garbage. With Dawn, he knew exactly where they stood until he screwed that up with a kiss and spiraling emotions.

He just wanted to give her what she had given him: acceptance. Only maybe, he didn't really understand what Dawn wanted at all.

Wheezing when he pressed his back against the now-closed door of the train, the fact that he had been drinking the last few hours and sprinted to the train station was obvious. People circled around him—he probably smelled like vomit and booze, even after a long bath.

Maybe it was Dawn-sonar, but he found her immediately; she didn't bother to look up, completely entranced by her pamphet, and oozing that familiar confidence.

For a moment, he thought of Brock's words: How had her behavior changed? She seemed like the same old, determined, amazing Dawn—but in his months absence, maybe he missed something. Maybe she changed.

Maybe he just couldn't imagine her as anyone other than a ball of enlightenment.

When he took the seat beside her, she didn't look up or break concentration. She flipped a page in her book, and for a few moments, Paul thought: This is alright. This I can manage. Perhaps, he still had time to back out, like Brock said, if he wasn't in this for the long haul, what was he doing here? To confuse her more? Actually, he didn't think that he did confuse her, it seemed like she had everything figured out; the perfect life...

"Paul..?"

Damn it.

Paul didn't turn completely, he couldn't even hold eye contact with her, in fact, he kept his eyes glued to the window that had passing trees and buildings. Stone-faced.

Dawn must not have thought that he heard her, because she put her book down and narrowed her blue eyes at him.

"Paul," she tried again, more assertively. "What are you doing here?"

Say anything! He screamed at himself, closing his eyes and forcing himself to breath. All that running was still catching up with him, he could easily expel his guts all over the train floor, but instead, he forced himself to look at her, hoping she would understand the struggle he was under.

"You don't look well... are you okay?"

His lips fell further into a frown, genuine concern filled her eyes, and her brow knit tightly together in worry. Her hair was down over her shoulders, and she was wearing a pink-sweater that he didn't recognize and black tights.

God, what was he doing here? His mouth opened, then closed, and repeated until her concern was slowly rounding into frustration, and he exhaled.

"Why did you leave?" after that night, in general. Just answer the question. Even though no one was interested in their conversation, he felt like all eyes were on him. He sounded as hoarse as he felt, and his shoulders slumped sluggishly.

"...I...uh..." She cleared her throat, unprepared for a direct question, then a little confused. She kept her voice low. "...I...got scared, I guess."

Oh, great, he thought so. At least she didn't say it was because he was a big jerk—actually, hadn't she already said that? Why was he putting himself through this again?

"I...didn't mean to say what I did." A slight struggle, he managed to speak. Talking wasn't his strong suit, actually, he didn't have a lot of strong social suits; except stoicism, and apparently looking like an asshole.

"I know, and that's okay. It was a long night. We were both a little crazy."

He couldn't reply to that—he was actually perfectly coherent that night, and completely lying. Telling her he didn't mean what he said was like ripping off his own arm. For once, he wondered if this is what Ketchum felt like. Paul tried not to rub his face in frustration, instead, his fingers dug into the leather seat of the train.

"No, actually...I..." Now he did rub his face, and Dawn, seeing the struggle put a comforting hand on his shoulder that he almost immediately threw off. She was too warm, too electric.

At this point, why was he holding back? If he didn't speak now, he would probably lose her friendship forever, even if she didn't feel the same way, she could at least be around. Pinning after someone that didn't really like him back wasn't all so bad, at least he wouldn't be alone.

"I..." Miss you. Messed up. Shouldn't have yelled at you. Should have treated you better. "I'm a better person with you in my life."

Suddenly, the floodgates opened, and he couldn't stop the verbal garbage that fell from his lips.

"I mean, I know I don't offer much—I'm a jerk most of the time—all of the time. I tend to get tunnel vision and I'm very self-oriented and miserable...but I'm not as miserable when you're around."

"I'm not a great person, and I'm okay with that most of the time. I succeed because I don't...feel things like normal people and for a long time that was fine—and then...you..." By the time he wrapped up his rant, he was looking ahead again. His eyes were shut and he was huddled into himself, squeezing his arms around his stomach.

"I had no right to treat you so poorly...I... I want to be better."

"I don't want you to change for me, Paul." Dawn grimaced, holding up far better than she ever thought that she would.

"It's not for you." he admitted honestly, his hard eyes softening. "It's for me. Since I met you and the other two things haven't always been black and white, and you're the only person that has ever put up with me."

Before Dawn could refute that she didn't just want to put up with him, because he knew that was coming, he added in: "You're the only real friend that I've ever had."

"I never really thought of us as friends." Dawn laughed quietly, though that comment made his heart sour and the hope turned into disgust at himself as she continued, realizing what she said cut deep.

"I just mean, you have a funny way of treating your friends; I never knew if we were or not, or if I was just a pest following you around."

She might have been—he found her infuriating more times than not, but he preferred to have her around, dragging him to places far out of his comfort zone than not at all... but that wasn't fair to ask of her, either. Instead of replying directly, he continued.

"These last few months without you have been the worst of my journey. I have never had a companion other than pokemon and you were so different, I wasn't used to it. That didn't mean you were annoying."

Dawn smiled faintly at that, but it didn't change how he treated her. He couldn't take back the remarks, or the behavior.

"I tried so hard to get you to open up, when you finally did, I realized it wasn't what I wanted."

Paul closed his eyes, inhaling the air. He expected to hear that. By this point, the full palm of her hand was on the center of his back, a motion he found comforting now, but disturbing before. She didn't move her fingers or try to sooth him; she simply placed her hand there and exhaled quietly.

"I'm sorry for betraying your trust. It's something I've been...working on." Finally, he heard the change in her voice, semblance of her change in behavior.

"I messed up a lot, too." he finally confessed and that somehow brought a smile to Dawn's face, who probably found a ton of irony in that comment. They both sat back, silently bundled in their own thoughts.

"Even if you don't feel the same way that I do, I still want you to be around. I don't want to lose you."

Dawn chuckled under her breath. "I found myself saying that to someone recently, too."

Then, she inhaled bravely, and removed her hand from his back, and cupped them over her knees.

"...but as we are right now, we're toxic. I'm not understanding enough, and you're not open."

Paul could have begged to differ on at least one of those parts—Dawn was very understanding, she had to be on some level, otherwise, she would have never dealt with him as long as she did—the point, was there shouldn't have been so much work without reciprocation.

He would have told her, but somehow, his throat was closed off hearing only rejected echo in his mind, and so he clenched his fists and glared at the floor.

Dawn wiggled in her seat momentarily, thoughts racing through her head until she finally nodded.

"I do like you Paul, that's why this isn't easy. I have no idea why. Technically, and you probably realize it, too. I shouldn't. We're not a good match, and lately I haven't been making very good choices to reflect this." Her knuckles were white, she grasped her knees so tightly. He envied how good she was with words, and worst of all, he wasn't upset by her honesty. If anything, he respected her more for it.

"I...I have to be on my own for awhile." She inhaled a shaky breath, "I need some time."
"What can I do to make it better?"

Dawn hiccuped. "...Paul..." She looked at him, eyes watery. "Just be comfortable by yourself, for yourself, for a little while."

He laughed at the irony of those words being said back to him and shook his head slightly, but then nodded against the pain in his neck.

As a closer, Dawn added: "Back then, I think maybe you were right about a few things."
"I think you were, too." he answered and offered her a very rare smile before standing up and marching to the door, only to realize that the train was still moving, and sat back down. He looked at her awkwardly and pursed his lips.

"I'll get off at the next stop."
Dawn smiled back at him and nodded, glad that there was some normalcy between them.
"Yeah."

But at least it wasn't awkward, or anything.

XOX

Gary, who was on Dawn's other side during the conversation, felt like he was eavesdropping, and tried to disappear into his papers while trying not to listen.

If he was being honest, he expected this entire thing to turn into a dramatic scene. Dawn would shout, Paul would retaliate, they would yell, somehow Gary would get dragged into it, get punched in the jaw, Dawn would cry—then he remembered. Not everyone was Ash and Misty, and for once, he respected Paul as much as Dawn.

He had stones, that was sure, to get onto a moving train, to talk to someone he hadn't seen in months; to explain himself, and somehow not apologize? Maybe Gary wasn't understanding the full story, but it seemed like Dawn was the one guilty of screwing up their twisted friendship—but he wasn't so sure.

Both partners were equally at fault here. Paul for being too stationary, and Dawn for being far too active. Complete opposites, and yet somehow they matched.

Gary would never understand romance, and maybe that was why he was destined to be single for the rest of his life. Maybe that was his problem—he gave up too easily. At any sight of friction, he gave up the ghost. Maybe he needed to put himself out there more.

After all, if a guy like Paul Shinji could do it, what was stopping Gary? For a moment, he dared to look over at the two of them, now that the conversation was over, they sat quietly. Paul crossed his arms, stared vehemently out the window, and Dawn read her book religiously. No one spoke—there was no immediate make-up.

It was like neither of them recognized that the other person was even in the same room, let alone the same planet.

Space, did it really make the heart grow fonder? Would they really grow from this or would it open a new wound and leave a gaping hole where the stitches fell out of the last one?

Then, because Gary had to have the last word, he reached over Dawn, pointing at Paul.

"Hey, did you buy a ticket for this ride?"

Paul turned aggressively at Gary, and Dawn inched backwards in her seat.

He just couldn't let it go, could he?

Author's Note:

Like last time, this was written mostly to full completion in the middle of summer, touched in the fall, and completed now. That means the writing might be al ittle everywhere for the first little bit, but I think the kinks were worked out by the end of the chapter. Sorry guys! I'm still workin on it!

So I finally get it. I finally understand the appeal in ikarishipping.

I enjoyed writing Paul this chapter. I feel like he is a character that would have to stew on his thoughts for DAYS before anyhting good comes from them. I also feel like Paul isn't a mean or harsh person, but he comes off that way because he isn't great with 's like he said, he and Dawn were opposites. Complete. Opposites. I also had this full circle idea from the very beginning; how Dawn chases after any type of romance like she was doing, only realize it wasn't what she wanted, and for Paul to realize that maybe opening up to possibilities wouldn't be so bad. Paul is more or less where Dawn was at chapter 5, and Dawn is where Paul was then. Their roles reversed. I know a few people probably don't like what happened with the DawnxPaulxGary triangle thing, but I felt like it added a little diversity to the characters story lines, and allowing the characters to grow in ways they otherwise wouldn't. Especially Dawn, who learned a lot about herself. And Gary, who did as well.

Anywho

Next time, we get back to Ash. Huzzah huzzah

NINT