Achoo!
Barry decides to train at the top of Mt. Coronet, but was stupidly ignorant of the harsh and snowy weather, which cursed him with a horrible cold. Luckily, someone comes by in the nick of time to help him. ColdCoffee
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"Great, Heracross! Now use Fury Cutter again to finish that Snover off!" The giant blue beetle did as his trainer commanded obediently and proceeded to jabbing the opponent with the huge horn on its head furiously. The latter immediately fell to the ground in the instant Heracross stopped attacking, the blonde flashing his Pokémon a huge victory smile and a thumbs up.
"Awesome, Heracross! You'll become as strong as Paul's Pokémon if you keep this up!" The trainer trudged towards the beetle slowly, the fresh snow crunching under his brown loafers in every step. Once he was within close range, he patted his Pokémon happily. "Now let's see if we can find a—" A loud sneeze interrupted his sentence, and, unfortunately, the person responsible for that very sneeze was him.
He stifled another incoming sneeze and rubbed an index finger under his nose, his forehead warming up by the second and his energy seemingly seeping away from his body. "Aw, great," he moaned to himself angrily, his voice stuffy and tired, "I'm s-s-si—" The blonde let out yet another sneeze, causing his Pokémon to stand aback a few inches to prevent it from suffering the same fate. The blonde seemed annoyed by its sudden action, but couldn't find the energy to throw a fit on the spot. Instead, he took out the beetle's Pokéball and returned him inside. Then, he turned to his Pokétch and switched to the Marking Map App, attempting to find the nearest Pokémon Centre, which was, much to his dismay, nearly five miles away from where he was standing right now.
"What on earth…? Of all the t-times…" Frustrated, he slowly turned his head around to inspect his entire surroundings to find a shelter—any kind of shelter—as to protect himself from the severe blizzard nearing the area he was training in. All he could find, though, were a bunch of trees—a bunch of hideous, green trees powdered with snow. Oh, and Abamasnows.
Wait, hold on… Abamasnows?
They seemed angry at the blonde for using their children, which were apparently the Snovers, as punching bags, and were gathered in what seemed like hundreds of them just a few feet away from the sick boy. The blonde's thinking was somewhat delayed, but when the event of raging Abamanows speeding towards him finally kicked in, his first instinct was to send out a Pokémon. However, he remembered that he had been training the entire day, and because of that, his Pokémon were definitely tired from the non-stop training regimen; so his second instinct was to run for dear life, pretty much—except, the only problem with that was 1) he was sick, 2) his energy was at a maximum low, and 3) there was possibly no way he could outrun a bunch of raging Abamasnows in the snow, even without the conditions he was suffering right now.
With that, he figured there was only one other way to save himself from the pack of furious Abamasnows, and even though he was very reluctant, he was desperate enough to do it. He stood up straight and eyed the stomping trees head on. Then, he opened his mouth and attempted to yell out an apology for bashing on their… uh, children… but no matter how hard he yelled, and no matter how much he yelled, his voice couldn't seem to register into the angry trees' brains due to the howling wind eating up his voice. That left him to being doomed, albeit he knew he was doomed from his previous plan anyway.
Sighing, he slipped down onto the crunchy snow, feeling the cold, white fluff tickle his hands and cheeks gently, and closed his eyes from the image of rampaging Abamasnows, fearing the worst of getting trampled to death.
Man, oh man, a death of getting trampled by a bunch of trees… what's worse than this?
Mt. Coronet is known to be a great training spot for mostly fire- and fighting-types with the huge population of ice Pokémon chilling around. However, this certain purple-haired boy wasn't training atop the snowy mountain with a fire-type or a fighting-type or a steel-type… or any other type that had a type advantage against the ice-types that thrived there. Oh no, he was using a grass- and ground-type, his Torterra. That much should've been obvious, though, as he wasn't one to think solely on match type-ups. Fighting all these ice Pokémon would be good training for his upcoming gym battle at Snowpoint gym, too, which was the main reason he chose this specific spot to do train.
Wrapped up in a bundle of scarves and a deep black winter coat, he walked smoothly along the snowy plains, thanks to the snow shoes he was wearing, of the mountain, trying to find a nice clearing for training purposes. He found one easily and fished out a Pokéball from his pocket, throwing it in the air. The ball opened and a flashing red light emitted from it in the form of a huge blob, which later disappeared and was replaced by the Continent Pokémon, Torterra, saying its signature cry in all its glory. It didn't seem fazed out by the snow and hail at all, even if it was harsh and pelted it roughly.
The purple-haired boy didn't seem too fazed about the weather either, only wincing once from getting hit by a small chunk of hail. Though, ignoring that fact, he looked around to find some easy bait to get his training started. He had searched for at least a minute until he could spot a moving tree from the corner of his eye—a Snover, perfect.
His Pokémon seemed to sense the Snover too, and began using long-range attacks to battle the little snow tree from where he was standing. Just when he was about to use his final attack to finish the Snover off, a loud and disturbing noise echoed through the entire area, leaving the attacker in a startled daze and the Snover a chance to run off in freedom.
"Torterra! Don't let anything distract you from training," the purple-haired boy scolded angrily, though he remained composed, brushing the sudden event off instantly. "That Sneasel… I've heard the gym leader has one. Attack it, now."
The Torterra shifted its head to see a small, male Sneasel running across the snow, seeming to want to play with the two. The Continent Pokémon then started attacking with all its might to please its trainer, hitting every attack right on spot. The Sneasel, with a playful intent, must've realized he was being used as a training target instead of a play buddy the moment he realized the serious expression on his competitor's face. He began to run off at that point, but his attempts failed with a strong Frenzy Plant capturing him. The Sneasel began to feign in serious injury, but Torterra wasn't about to let go until his trainer commanded him to. Until, that was, when they heard the same loud and disturbing noise again, startling the giant turtle like last time. It unconsciously released the Sneasel from the hold of its Frenzy Plant, allowing it to escape, but apparently, that very action started to make its trainer annoyed beyond relief.
"What the heck was that? What did I tell you about not letting anything distract you from training, especially not some hideous sound?" Torterra was nodding his head and saying its name over and over again, like it was saying sorry to its trainer, but the purple-haired boy was completely oblivious by his Pokémon's claims. Instead, he returned his Torterra into its Pokéball and started to roam about Mt. Coronet, intending to find whatever was responsible for the distraction so he could finally train in peace.
However, passing tree after tree after tree was getting tiring for him, and maybe even getting him lost. His annoyance has calmed down in a few minutes of trudging through the endless snowy wonderland, so there was really no use to search for the distraction anymore. It was also getting dark, and even though his training day was ruined by something so unexpected, he decided to let it pass him, as he hadn't planned on battling the Snowpoint gym leader the next day anyway. The constant getting pelted by hail was annoying him, too.
He turned on his heels to head back down to level ground, when suddenly the cries of peculiar Pokémon got his attention. He turned back around to see a group of Abamasnows from a short, running distance away, and immediately fished through his pocket again to send out his Torterra, smirking in content.
"Perfect. A bunch of moving targets is just what we need. Torterra, beat them all down." The giant turtle used long-range attacks again to hurt the Abamasnows, and after endless thrashing of Razor Leaves and Frenzy Plants, every single last Abamasnow was completely KO'd.
"Okay, that's enough for today." He took out Torterra's Pokéball, but was surprised and awfully irritated when it was knocked on the ground with one of Torterra's Razor Leaves. Just when he was about to question his Pokémon's actions for doing so, the giant turtle was already slowly nudging the purple-haired boy towards the Abamasnows littered on the ground. Then, just when they were close enough, Torterra used Frenzy Plant to raise a lanky body up in the air, raising it down in front of its trainer. The trainer, glancing at the body, realized it was a boy, blonde, and it seemed like he was suffering from a terrible sickness.
He eyed his Torterra and scowled. "You wasted my time just for this loser?" Torterra seemed caught up in shame, but at the same time seemed like it didn't regret its actions. The trainer, angry, got his Pokéball and returned the giant turtle again, looking at the blonde and letting out a short sigh. He wasn't going to let this guy, even if he was a stranger, die with him knowing he could've prevented all of that if he could just carry along an extra person back to Pokémon Centre.
Then again, maybe the hail pelting his head had gotten to him.
Whatever the case, the purple-haired boy sent out his Honchcrow and carried the blonde on his back ("Hmph, he's heavier than I thought…") throwing him atop the bird. He sat behind him and told the bird to head for the nearest Pokémon Centre, feeling regret the moment he heard that same loud and disturbing noise come out from the mouth of the blonde.
There was a pang on the side of his head, and his eyes started to flutter open, revealing a pair of fresh and once again energetic orange eyes. He sat up, making the wet towel on his head fall to his lap, and looked around, realizing he was at a Pokémon Centre. "What… what… what on earth is this? How did I end up in here?"
A nurse suddenly came into his room and smiled gently at him, placing a tray with a bowl of soup, a piece of bread, and a glass of water in front of him. "Feeling any better?"
"I guess…" He grabbed the bread and ripped off a huge piece of it, almost half, and looked at the nurse suspiciously, obviously wanting answers. "How'd I end up here?" He was about to put that he remembered being the target of anger for a group of Abamasnows, but that was too embarrassing to say…. Just thinking about it brought a tinge of pink on his cheeks.
"Oh, your friend brought you here," the nurse answered.
The blonde looked surprised as he finished off chewing the remnants of his bread. "Friend?"
"Yes. He said his name was Paul."
Upon hearing that very name, the blonde found himself with newfound energy, letting him stand up straight without any trace of being injured or sick anywhere. "Paul? You mean the Paul?" His tone had turned from serious and drawly from excited to hyperactive in a blink of an eye, which made the nurse somewhat freaked out to the extent of giving him only a nod as a response to his answer.
The blonde then started to spasm and ran out of his room immediately, running around the Pokémon Centre in hopes that his idol was still around—and, lucky for him, he crashed into the purple-haired boy just in time, literally.
The two boys plopped down on the floor, and both got up at the same time. Usually, the blonde would've been annoyed by being late and fined the person he crashed into, but considering Paul was the one he was trying to catch up to, and also considering the fact that he is Paul and is the one and only exception, instead of the usual fining statements, he stared at him with disbelief and glee, clasping his hands in each other. "Paul!"
The purple-haired boy seemed taken aback, frowning at the nuisance. "Do I… know you?"
"Ha, funny!" The blonde started laughing out loud, attracting the attention of various passersby, though he seemed completely oblivious of it. "Barry's the name, and you saved my life, right? Ah, fancy how Paul—and not just Paul, the Paul, which is you!—saved me! Not only are you a great trainer, you're also a hero—my hero! You are the absolute best, the image of perfection! No no, you're even better than perfection!" The blonde began to scrutinize Paul, who was supposedly his proclaimed "hero," and frowned. "Oh, you're shorter by a centimeter than I imagined. Hey, isn't your hair a different shade than what I see on TV? No matter, hero!"
All Paul could do was stay silent and hear endless blabbering of blah blah blah… and blah. It came to the point where he practically erupted and screamed at him to just shut up already. His supposed fan did just that—he said his name was Barney, right, or was it Barry… or Brody? Bah, it didn't matter—but was still smiling in a goofy way, his eyes twinkling brightly still.
Paul scowled. "Listen, boy," he started off, still clearly annoyed at Barry albeit the blonde's absent-mindedness, "go fawn over someone else. I don't have time for someone as pathetic as you."
"P-pathetic?" The sudden hyperactive energy he was seemed to glow with died down in an instant as he frowned, tugging at Paul's shirt like a small child. "I've been trying to train just like you! Getting stronger like you… that's what I want! You can't just judge me from such a short meeting."
Paul had raised a single eyebrow. Apparently, he could tell right off the bat that this boy was smarter than he thought. Though, that didn't mean he was exactly stronger or even less pathetic than he thought the blonde was before.
"Hey hey, how about a battle? Then I can prove to you that I'm not as pathetic as you think! Ah, proving myself to Paul!" He smiled and grabbed a Pokéball from his back pocket, waving it in front of Paul's face. "C'mon, c'mon. You've got ten seconds to bring out your balls: nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three—huh?"
Paul had left from his former position and was already exiting the Pokémon Centre. Barry, shocked, rushed over to the purple-haired boy and held him back, though Paul only slapped his hand away, and began talking to him without even facing the blonde. "I have no time to waste with you. Now stop being a persistent pest and leave me alone. I have a battle waiting for me in Snowpoint, and you'll just be slowing me down." The battle was a lie, of course, as he wasn't expecting to battle the Snowpoint gym leader yet, as aforementioned. Though, he'd probably do anything to get rid of the blonde pest at this point.
"B-but but!" Barry tried to interject, but Paul just started to walk off anyway. The blonde felt like he pretty much lost his chance to a dream battle with Paul, and proving himself too.
When he was just about to walk back into the Pokémon Centre, he heard Paul's voice say something to him, with a lighter tone filled with a bit of playfulness. "Oh, and boy, wear something more than a scarf next time."
A smile crept on Barry's face as well as a small blush as he turned around, only to find that Paul had already disappeared into the depths of a forming fog. "Ah, he does care… I guess." He suddenly started shivering, his hands clutching to his arms to embrace himself, and then suddenly…
Achoo!
The blonde started sniffling and walked back inside the Pokémon Centre, moaning in agony as his sickness had returned. "Great, now I'm sick again…! Gaaah!"
Still only a few feet away from the Pokémon Centre, Paul heard the same loud and disgusting noise again for the third time, but instead of being annoyed by it, he found himself smirking, rolling his eyes in an apathetic way. He wasn't sure what had gotten into him (did those pieces of hail hit him this hard?) but the blonde's display of appreciation for Paul was a new thing for him, and even though he admit it did get annoying, he also had to admit that it brought down his petulant levels just a wee bit for the moment—just enough for him to enjoy the blonde's cuten—erhem, humorous misery.
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Prequel to "Similarities". This was written a long time ago, hence the horrible writing style. I might re-write all this again, but seeing as how lazy I am, I kinda doubt it. :9