NA: Man, I think I have the thing to write unusual pairings. But it's so fun, I can't stop. This will be in three parts I believe and I will write the rest next week. I hope you like it and tell me what you think! :) I don't own pokémon though.
Aim for the sky?
No, silly, aim for the stars!
His cheeks flush red the first time he spots Skyla and that's because of many things; because of the daring clothes she wears and because of the bright smile that can shine through thick fog she has and those light-blue eyes reminding him of White's eyes. Reminds but not quite, there's something different about them. He doesn't see White this way.
It takes a while for him to understand that she actually speaks to him, and he is too occupied with staring at her chest to follow her conversation threads. At times he realizes this the blood starts to boil under his suntanned skin, snake under the skin and paint his face with that deep red color he seems to possess in loads in the wrong timing.
Sometimes he wishes he could just die. He can never compare himself to White, who is bright and colorful and can laugh about anything. She turns her problems into solvable equations, he turns them into stones he cannot push. She is beautiful and he is as interesting as a plate with moss, she is strong and he is weak and…
The girl with the daring clothes and bright smile and light-blue eyes pushes his train of thought off the rail and punches him lightly on the right shoulder, waking him up from his dream world that is more a custom than a need nowadays. "Hey, I'm talking to you! I demand an answer."
"Sorry," Black says awkwardly—everything about his relationships with girls is awkward—and tries (fails) to look her in the eyes. "What did you say?"
"That you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen," she says and he stares in shook because really; does she need contact lenses? The next thing she says though shoves him back to the reality. What else did he expect? "I'm joking! Not that you're not beautiful but that's not what you are looking for, is it?"
Looking for what? he wants to ask but doesn't—he knows better than to put his nose where it doesn't belong and he has spoken too long with Skyla already. "Um…"
She laughs. She has a pretty laugh, it's loud and clear and cuts through silence like a knife in a pleasant, extraordinary way.
What's with his stupid poetic compliments anyway? He sounds like a boy with a broken heart which he isn't—sometimes he wonders if he even has a heart to break to begin with.
Apparently he has.
"Am I making your nervous?" she wants to know and he can hear the amused undertone in her voice—she likes doing this. It isn't the first time.
He shakes his head and his brown bangs dances in front of his eyes. He has to get back to the reality now. "N-No. Excuse me but I would like to have a battle with the gym-leader."
"With me then!" she smiles and blinks with one of her eyes, taking a step back and analyzes him from head to toe. "That's great! I look forward to it!"
Her enthusiasm doesn't infect him, he is too deep in the hole already. This is ridiculous and he knows it as well; he has no reason to react like this. He has met good-looking girls before—yes, Skyla is good-looking—and it has been nothing like this. Elesa from Nimbasa City is stunning, a shining star but he still managed to keep the distance, keep himself safe but he doesn't now. Why? Just why?
Maybe he only thinks too much. That's a habit he has. Thinking.
"Do you have time now?" he asks politely and shoves his hands in his pockets, clenching his teeth together and awaits her next move.
She wires one of her magenta-colored strands of hair around her gloved finger, smiling a half-smile. "Sorry, there is something I need to take care of first. I need to check the Celestial Tower, I think there is a sick pokémon on the top and I can't just leave it there! You understand. But after that! Oh, and you can tag along if you want." She blinks again before she walks away, becomes one with the wood's green patches and bright tree-trunks.
Sick pokémon huh? That's exactly one thing a gym-leader would do, put everything aside to be one with their friends. He shakes his head again, that reminds too much of N, whom he still does not understand.
Team Plasma is more important than sulking after someone he doesn't even know. After the battle they will probably never speak again. He is one challenger of many and will melt into the wall—only the ones with strong personalities manage to stand out and become important.
An hour later he finds himself standing on top of Celestial Tower, with the view reaching long and far, the heaven painted in red and orange as the sun descends. And she is there too, of course, shining more brightly than the sun, looking at the large bell in marble and snaky patterns.
Oh, God, did he just think that?
"Well! It seems like everything is alright here! But oh, there is something I want to tell you. Do you see this bell?" He can't help but to roll his eyes at that comment and she snickers, continues. "The sounds from it soothe the spirits of pokémon. But that's only one part of the cake, the sound also changes depending of which person that tolls it."
Where is she going with this? He is far too down-to-earth to believe in things that don't linger here, maybe that's why he doesn't understand that she wants him to actually toll the bell.
Or maybe he is just too stupid to grab the vines she throws at him. Probably closer to the truth.
"I don't want to toll the bell," he says with his voice low and uncharacteristically rude. He doesn't even know why he declines, probably because he doesn't want her to judge him.
"Don't be shy now!" she chimes just like the bell before her and grabs his shoulder from behind, pushing him forward. The touch is raw, for a girl, and somehow—but he will never admit it to anyone—it's soothing, it reminds him of White.
"Skyla, this is—"
"This is a memento from your trip," she says and the wind catches her hair, making it fly forward, catching his eyes. "Geez, Black, you need to loosen up! I think you need this battle, I can make you soar like a bird. Toll now."
The sound echoes in his ears, sending frostbites down his spine, down to his feet.
She only smiles behind him and doesn't remove her hands from his shoulders.
When the sky is pith-black and the stars start to hover there, dotting themselves together to castellation they have the battle inside Skyla's gym of air-cannons and blue wallpaper.
He loses hard.
The smile never leaves on her face but it does on his. Isn't he stronger than this? Shouldn't his strategies reach from his lips to the sky and not end there, in front of him, transparent nothings?
She jumps down from the platform and starts walking to him, recalling her Swanna as she does. He looks at her, looks and drinks in her appearance. He can't tell if she is cute or beautiful or both.
Maybe that is why he lost the battle? He doesn't want to think that way, no, it was his strategy, it was his failed training but he can't help but to think that his distracted mind shoved him down the hole to failure and he could only get up after the battle.
"That was a nice battle!" she says and rubs her right leg with her boot. "You have a nice style."
Black doesn't know how he should react to her compliments because she looks like one that gives them to everyone, even if they have as much talent on the battlefield as a rock. He corrects his cap and nods, words failing to paint his emotions as usual. He tries. "Yeah. Thanks. I-I think I will have to try later."
"Aw, don't be sad," she says and flinches him, not by doing anything but to the warm tone in her voice. "You will beat me. One day you will."
He nods again and tastes her words. Maybe. Only time would tell.
If time was that friendly of course.
He walks through the automatic doors made in glass and is allowed to take three steps before someone tugs on his right arm and stops his tracks, before spinning him around until they meet eye to eye.
Does he really have to tell you who that was? Irony likes to play with him today.
If this was irony, how could he know?
"Before you go," Skyla says, "I want to show you something."
He ponders her statement. 'Something' is probably a helicopter, or airplane or something similar since she seems interested in things in that department but he finds himself wrong—which, he learns, he often is in her presence—and later stands in front of a café with the uncreative name "Sky high", which seems to be open even on nights.
"Is this what you want to show me?" he asks and can't hide the wondering tone. She takes one step forward and gives him the chance to gaze at her from behind and he wonders why that outfit, that really should be too much, fits so well on her.
"Yes!" she exclaims and she turns around, pointing at the entrance. "Do you want to join me?"
His face burns again. Does she usually hang out with her challengers? Somehow he doubts. "Um, maybe I should head back to the center…"
"Not yet!" she pleads and clings to his arm, so close he can feel her skin, still warm even in this sinking temperature. "Besides, you need dinner. I can pay!"
"That's not necessary…"
She blinks and drags him to the entrance. "C'mon. Not many are given the honor to eat dinner with a gym-leader after all!"
The truth in her comment makes him mute and she uses the opportunity to pull him inside the café.
All he sees is red, as the wallpapers are in a deep red color and the floor in the same, and even the cloths on the tables are red. It's a nice café, small and cramped with the cozy feelings those things invite.
"This people like red," he states and gets rewarded with a soft giggle.
"Do you really mean that, Captain Obvious?" she grins.
Yes, he did mean that.
It takes a long time for Black to get comfortable with new surroundings and this is not an exception, but as the clock on his watch moves along and the flame from the candle makes his face warm he finds himself slowly regaining his posture and the words starts dripping from his mouth.
It's interesting really, that Skyla makes him like this, as he doesn't trust many people enough in this world to actually talk to them and not turning the conversation to an end. He wants it to continue.
He wants to hear her laugh, it's a chilling sound. Like the bell.
"Oh, man, I so remember the first time my dad took me on a flight," she tells him and circles her fingers around the fork, digging its teeth into a tomato. "It was awesome! I mean, I have always been interested in planes and such but being in there, seeing the ground from afar, it was terrific. Have you ridden a plane or helicopter before?"
He shakes his head and takes one sip from the coca-cola, sipping up the foam on the edges. Truth to be told he is afraid of heights but that's something he doesn't want to admit yet.
"Tell me something about yourself," she demands and leans closer, dropping the fork on the plate again and looks at him with those big, round eyes.
He places the glass in front of the table again, fumbles with the cloth between his fingers. "What do you want to know?"
"Now you are getting nervous again," she smiles and tilts her head, the candle reflecting in her eyes. "Why?"
He is lucky that it is so dark in the room she can't see his blush. He clears his throat and drops the cloth. "Well, I have a friend. Her name is White."
"Wait a minute. I think I remember a girl passing by with that name. Long brown hair and short pants right?"
He nods. That's probably her.
"She is so pretty," she says. "I want her hair."
"Your hair is fine, Skyla," he says before he can stop himself and now he knows he has placed his foot too deep in the mud to escape. Why did he say that? He is no charmer, he can't say such things to melt the ice, when he does it's too late to take them back and consider what they could mean to others.
To her. To Skyla.
"Why, thank you! But tell me more about White. You are friends, you say?"
"Yes. But also rivals. We share the same goal, to become great trainers but there is still something that tears us apart, dream-wise."
She places her chin on the back of her hands, lets her eyes narrow slightly, eyelashes thick and black shade her cheeks. "What is it?"
He shudders. "I don't really know but I think that she is much more enthusiastic about this than I am. It… It's pathetic I know but I love pokémon in a different way than she does, I want to take care of them, travel with them, but battling, I don't know, it just happens."
"Huh? You don't like battles? That's surprising, since you are really good at it!"
Does she like to color his cheeks blood-red? It seems like it.
"No, no, I like battles, I do but not like White. Actually I'm rather surprise I've gotten this far. Five badges isn't too bad."
"No, it isn't. But you still want to complete the eight-badge run?"
Her smile gets a little wider, lips red from the sauce, it clashes with her blue outfit. "Guess you are stuck here with me then."
He should ask her though. He needs to know. He needs to know if this is just a game, if he is just average. Somehow he knows he should be but still doesn't want. "Why are you so nice to me?"
It is an embarrassing question but she takes it well, like she takes everything well. Does she have negative personality traits, despite her naiveness and ability to walk through closed doors? "Dunno. I like you?"
"That is not logical, you don't know me."
"I do now." She spins around the straw in her glass of Fanta, her nails light-blue like the rest of her. "I guess I'm open to new people. I like to talk to them! It's interesting and you can learn new things. But you aren't like me in that apartment are you?"
"Not really," he murmurs and looks down, drowns in the black liquid of his drink.
"I had to ask, you can never judge a book by its cover." She blinks. "Well, you shouldn't anyway."
He says nothing. He doesn't need to. She can talk for two. That's something admirable, even with his limited support she can keep the conversation about the surface fine by herself. How does she do that? He fails when it comes to such things.
"Do you have plans for tomorrow?" she wants to know when the waiter finally drops the bill on their table, sounding completely innocent. "If not there is something I want to show you."
She pulls out money from her pockets and places it upon the red cloth. It still doesn't feel right but what can he do? She will never listen to him. "Um, not really. Why not? Thank you Skyla."
"My, you don't have to thank for anything. Before you go, though, there is something I want to tell you. Where do you aim? In general I mean?"
He narrows his brown eyes, surprised by the question and fully aware that she is going somewhere with it. Where does a girl that wants to be a pilot aim?
It can't be that easy, can it? "To the sky?"
She shakes her head and the hair dances with her moments. "That's not high enough, you know. See you tomorrow!"
He swallows. Nods. "Tomorrow."
to be continued