Pairing: -Alexandrianshipping, VolknerJasmine

Rating: K+

For arisu rin. You're amazing.

a/n: so. here we are. another VolknerJasmine. I think I've beaten a certain trope to death. I don't think I'm using it in a while; at least, for this pairing.

I hope you enjoy.


Volkner was drawing again.

He was sketching out paper-printed dreams.

He falling into insanity's grip, locked inside his room for days, his blue eyes focused on the piece of paper in front of him. He wouldn't leave until the sketchbook landed on the floor, his kohl pencils and sharpeners scattered. He wouldn't leave until his fingers ached and his brain throbbed with pain that was associated with his mortal needs.

When he finished his artwork, then he would finally tend to himself.

But when he came back into his dark room, he would pick up the book and tuck into a shelf. Run to the beach and stand on the silver-sand, the ocean waves lapping against his black boots. The wind would play with his blond hair as the man scanned the water.

He was looking for someone. He always was.


Volkner was depressed again.

He was falling into the inky black and saw the moon more often than the sun. He waited until the fiery sun was low in the sky, and the celestial moon was inching its way to the top. He waited until the sky was a dark blue, with stars littered across the heavens. When that moment occurred, he would flee from his rat's nest of a home, sketchbook in hand. The blond would take a seat on the once-hot sand, and lay on his back, the stars reflecting off his blue eyes.

Finally, he would make himself open his notebook, composed of miracles and graphite, only to see the girl he's been drawing. The girl he's been chasing down in his dreams. She had long, brown hair, and brown eyes, flecked with green. She wore a plain dress, white, that hit her knees. She was Volkner's creation, a heavenly creature that had appeared in his subconscious and haunted him since then.

He hated knowing she wasn't real.


Volkner was falling in love.

He was falling in love with a figment of his imagination. She was appearing in his thoughts more often, her head tilted, and a whimsical smile perched on her lips. Lips that Volkner so desperately wanted to kiss. Flint had told him to get rid of his sketches, his drawings, his dreams. His best friend was worried, something that Volkner knew was wrong. Flint was never worried…but Volkner was falling into an abyss, his own grave. If he didn't find a foothold, a grip on reality, he would lose himself to oblivion.

Most days, he stood on the beach, wishing, hoping, praying that someone would come for him and take him away.

Oblivion seemed like a better option.


Volkner was getting tired.

He was tired of waging wars against his mind, wars that no one could win. He was sick of his homeland, now his prison. He was exhausted. He simply wanted to get away.

And so he did, he left Sunyshore behind, he left Flint behind-who yelled incoherencies as Volkner's boat sailed away-, and left his sketchbooks behind. They floated on the ocean, their pages bleeding rainbows, mingling with the salt water.

His mind was becoming clear; his thoughts began to sort, as the northern wind blew in his face.


Volkner was finally returning to the real world.

He reached the shore of Johto, a region far away from Sinnoh, a place he would have never thought he would end up in. When he stepped on the gold-colored sand, he swore he felt himself shed tears. Tears of confusion, joy, and some twisted humor. He left Sunyshore only to arrive in Olivine, a city that housed a lighthouse, a beach, and a market. It was as if he never left.

But he was happy. He felt so free, so alive. A new wave of emotions cascaded inside of him, filling the large void in his heart.

Not completely, though.

The ex-military man combed the beach, and then, came to halt. His blue eyes seemed to widen, and he felt his entire body lurch forward, as if he was falling into a recurring dream. In his line of vision, stood a girl; the girl.

She stood, the wind playing with her long, chestnut tresses, with the two pieces of hair that stood up like a cat's ears. Her hands were interlocked, behind her back. Her brown-green eyes were glazed, as she looked into the distance. Her white dress was whipping around her, and she did nothing to control it.

Like a sailor seeing land for the first time, Volkner ran. He ran and he ran, his feet pounding the sand, throwing it behind him, as he felt his heart soar. She was real, she was alive. She wasn't some trick of the eye.

The girl tilted her head, as if awakened, and turned around slightly. Volkner felt himself stop running, as he found himself face-to-face with the fairy-girl from above.

Her eyes were locked on his, as if she was contemplating escape. He found himself entranced by the gaze, and found himself running in the forest, finally finding the part he had been missing.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by Volkner's lips.

Her lips tasted like the ocean. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close.

No one asked questions, they were lost, lost, in dreams and reality.

And Volkner's paper-printed dreams were finally complete.

When they broke apart, the girl wore a light blush, her breaths short and shallow.

"I'm Jasmine."