A/N: So, I'm gone for twenty-six or so measly months and somehow, I come back to over 300 favorites and follows on this story!?

WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE!? Why do you like to suffer so much!? What possessed any of you to wade through this monstrosity of a story to get to this point!? Was it worth it? What did it cost you? I'm so equally fascinated and terrified at the kinds of people you must be to have made it this far, or lasted this long.

I'm thankful, truly. If only a handful of people wanted to see how this story ended, I'd still have every intention of finishing it. But it's nice to see a number, you know? Even through the unplanned hiatus, people still found this story and enjoyed it enough that they wanted to see how it all played out. So, I'm gonna drop this here now like a time-bomb and hope it meets some expectations. Lord knows, you guys have waited far too long for it.

Standard disclaimers apply. Also, mentions of alcohol in this chapter.

Chapter 55: Walking Through Fire

Dawn

"~Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do~!"

My fingerprints brushed along the chords one after another, the notes reverberating through the air along with my voice. The late afternoon sun was warm and bright, streaming in from the tall windows of the empty studio space. With Leaf's guitar balanced on my lap, I played up and down the strings with practiced care, the vocal exercise loosening my tension chord by chord.

But the sudden snap of wire against flesh hurt almost as much as the sour note in my ear.

"Dammit," I hissed, wringing out my hand. Barely through the warm-up and my hands were already cramping. I rubbed my thumb against the pad of my finger, trying to massage away the burning sensation the guitar string had left behind. If I couldn't even play a simple verse correctly, practice today was going to be just as productive as…

Well, just as unproductive as it had been during first year.

There used to be a time, before my first-ever concert and long before any promises of a special title, when practicing all by myself was my very least favorite thing to do. I'd always drag one of my friends or a group of classmates down to the studio with me; anything was better than being cooped up in this glass cage all alone. The only obvious downside of that brilliant plan was that the more people I persuaded to come along, the less chance there was of any actual practice getting done. Back then, a hit to my productivity was an easy price to pay for a little company.

What I wouldn't give to trade places with that carefree freshman now.

I shuddered to remember how the showcase had changed everything- changed me by the time first year was over, and how long it had taken me to see that not all of it was for the better. I'd isolate myself in this place for hours, so determined to eliminate distraction and focus solely on perfecting my performance that I'd push past the discomfort of solitude. I went from casual hangouts in the studio with my friends to singing vocal warm-ups until the sun went down, and practicing my performance piece until well after midnight. I went from eight hours of sleep down to six, then down to four, then resorted to substituting cups of coffee for every hour of sleep I skipped. A year ago, today, I'd be exhausted beyond belief by this point in the competition.

Now everything had changed yet again, but in a completely new way. For the first time in years, I was totally calm AND content with my own company. Despite everything…the urgency of our situation, the time crunch we were all under, and the emotional wreckage on top of all of it, I still relished in the calm before the storm. Things were still stressful, but at least I wasn't lonely in quite the same way. The panic was all but gone. Too bad the frustration remained.

I abandoned the chords I'd been rehearsing and idly strummed, random notes transforming into improvised melodies. If only I could lose these thoughts as easily as I lost concentration.

To say that Misty wasn't doing well was the understatement of the century.

The Sensational Sisters had crashed their way back into Misty's life, and subsequently all of ours as well. Everything the four of us had been through together this year seemed to pale in comparison to the moment those three had arrived on campus. All the losses and changes we'd been through, my top spot on the leaderboard, May's father, Leaf's trauma, my own realization about the rival who'd changed my life; they seemed like little problems in comparison to what we faced now.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty, I guess, I mused while plucking the strings absentmindedly.

May's father had threatened to pull her out of school, and at the time that had seemed pretty unforgivable, but in the end that threat had come from a place of desperation and loneliness. All he'd really wanted was to reconnect with his daughter, and his means to do so amounted to not much more than an empty bluff. It had been years-worth of miscommunication coming to a head, but it had all ended amicably for everyone involved.

Leaf's torment had been something she'd pushed down for years and simply being aware of it hadn't given me any foresight into what would happen as a result. Her conflict with Amber had forced her to confront every single thing that had ever made Leaf feel worthless, and it had overwhelmed her to the point where she'd thought she had no choice but to run away. But we'd all still supported Leaf in every way we could until she was ready to let that pain go (with a little help from Gary too).

But the Sensational Sisters were so much…bigger. They were more powerful than Norman, they were meaner than Amber, and it seemed like everybody was automatically on their side. No one at HPA aside from our group knew the full story. All anyone had seen that night were three celebrities making a spectacle of themselves, throwing around words like 'secrets' and 'lying', and that little spark was all it had taken for the controversial fires to roar to life. After all, a lack of information never stopped anyone from having an opinion.

And it turned out Misty's sisters had quite the fan-base at our academy; one that hadn't hesitated to rush to their idol's defenses as if the Sensational Sea-Witches were the victims here! Within a week of fast-spreading rumors, an ever-growing faction of the school was now rooting against us. It was almost humorous. One year later and I'd gone from being the most popular girl in school to a social pariah in the span of a few weeks; all for choosing Misty's side. I didn't regret it, but it was still disheartening to see how quickly people's minds could be swayed.

Before, our obstacles had remained personal and confined within our friend group. But our most current nightmare was up for public debate and it sure seemed like the loudest of the bunch had made their stance clearly against Changing Grace.

Because of all this, Misty's routine had quickly devolved into class, work, and band practice. When she wasn't doing those three things she was locked in her room, eating her meals and sleeping behind a closed door. When she walked through the academy halls, even the way she carried herself was different now; shoulders hunched up to her ears and footsteps heavy, as though trying to break the floor with every step. Any gossiping student who even glanced in her direction was sent running scared with a single look. It was like she was seconds away from tearing anyone apart who crossed her path. Her behavior was understandable, but it didn't exactly paint the image of an innocent party.

The seven of us, Changing Grace and Heroes Flaw, were the only ones brave enough to get within a few feet of her. Not that proximity counted for much. Whenever I tried to approach Misty about any of this, begging her to talk to me even if it was just so that she could vent and let off some steam, she reverted to one-word responses and stopped those conversations dead in their tracks.

She was severely pissing me off.

I hated thinking that thought. I hated feeling it even more. It wasn't like I wanted to be angry at her, not when she was dealing with so much. It didn't feel right. But what point would there be in lying to myself about it?

I was mad! I was tired of everyone pushing me out when things got tough! How could I help her if she wouldn't let me try? How could she think that shutting herself away from the world was the answer? That her sister's toxic behavior meant that she could only rely on herself now? Couldn't Misty see that she wasn't the only one scared about all of this?

I shook my head, dislodging those unhelpful thoughts. I was never going to get anything done today if I kept moping about our fate-of-the-future situation. I couldn't change anything right this minute, but I could buckle down and learn all my guitar parts. The possibility of showing up those obnoxious snobs if we managed to win would act as great motivation!

The lock to the room clicked open and my breath caught, my hand jerking away from the strings and my made-up warm-up coming to a halt. But when the door finally swung open, my surprise softened and the corners of my mouth rose up all on their own.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Paul greeted without looking up. Between his bag, his instrument case, and the phone his eyes were currently glued to, he fumbled slightly while his attention was split three-ways. I made use of his distraction, my gaze lingering on him a tad bit longer than I could usually get away with while he failed to notice my staring.

Maybe it was a little selfish given our present circumstances, but I couldn't help feeling a little grateful for the opportunity to spend more time with him. With everything going on, our casual tutoring sessions had become a sort of safe space away from all the emotional carnage outside the studio walls. I couldn't speak for Paul, but I hoped he felt the same about this time we'd carved out for each other.

Even if it was just as friends. Even if it was just to practice. I'd take what I could get.

"Hey! Don't worry about it," I assured him as he set aside his belongings.

"How's practice going?" he inquired, sounding out of breath. He made his way over to me and swung his guitar case up to rest on the lid of the grand piano.

"Fine, I suppose. I've been at it every day. I think I've got the first song almost down pat!" I beamed, my pride at my accomplishment shining through.

Paul busied himself with the clips of his case. "Once you can play it all the way through, we should switch rehearsal of that song to electric exclusively. You can switch your acoustic practice to getting the second song down."

If I hadn't been watching him so closely, I probably wouldn't have noticed. But since the moment Paul had walked in, he hadn't once looked at me. His eyes were either trained down in front of himself or it was like he was talking to someone just over my shoulder.

"Think we'll get to all that today?" I kept the conversation flowing, not letting on my concern.

"Sure," he shrugged, lifting his instrument out of its shell.

I huffed, the puff of air blowing part of my bangs off my forehead. A year ago, I'd have given anything to be able to tell what Paul was thinking just by looking at him. He was still as impersonal as ever, but I liked to think that I'd gotten a lot better at filling in the blanks. More or less…

Okay, so I still had no idea what exactly was bothering him, but I did know that it couldn't still be about that time I stepped in front of a speeding car. Even I wasn't shaken up about that anymore, and I was the one who'd almost ended up in the hospital! Due to process of elimination, I knew it couldn't be the drama with Misty because Paul wasn't really the type to invest that much in other people's problems. Not that he didn't care, he just didn't let it affect him personally. I was actually a little jealous of his ability to compartmentalize like that.

And aside from that, I admittedly didn't have much else to go on. Even though the two of us had moved past a mountain of obstacles on our way to becoming closer friends, there were still parts of his life that remained off-limits. I knew next to nothing about his past. Whatever kind of life he'd lived in Veilstone City was under lock and key and he never talked about his family. I only knew he had an older brother from that photo I saw on his bedside table, but there wasn't exactly a tactful way to bring that up in conversation without admitting I'd been snooping through his things.

So, what else could I do besides just… let it go? I knew I could only poke and prod so much. Whatever was bothering him didn't seem to be impacting his life so drastically that it was harming him (unlike another emotionally distant friend I could name). I'd be here to listen if he wanted me to. But he'd made it pretty clear that he was managing just fine without a sounding board. My only option in response to that was to respect his wishes and focus on my other priorities. If this was what he wanted, I trusted him enough not to push it any further.

Even though I really wanted to.

So instead we just practiced, our own little world a safe haven from the turbulence of reality. The sunbeams sprawled across the floor, slowly migrating from one edge of the room to the other as the minutes ticked into each other and we got lost in our rhythmic conversations. But after a couple more hours of repetition, a few missed notes were all it took to indicate my limit being reached.

"Let's take a break. You look like you need it," Paul insisted, resting his guitar against his leg. The sun was setting red behind him, colouring both of us in hues of rose and gold.

I sighed heavily, pressing my palms into my eyelids. "Sorry, I've got a lot on my mind."

"I know the feeling," Paul unceremoniously sympathized.

Don't push it, I had to remind myself. Though having to bite my tongue felt like it was going to kill me.

"Hey, I really appreciate you helping me and all, but are you sure you don't need to work on your own performance?" I asked instead of the million other questions I was dying to know the answers to.

"I wish," Paul scoffed. "Getting Ash to focus on anything besides the latest catastrophe would be a miracle."

I couldn't decide if I felt sympathetic or amused. With the way Misty was acting, of course I felt bad for Ash. He had to be driving himself crazy at the lack of things he could do to help his best friend. Though simultaneously, being so worried that he lost focus about anything else was just so classically Ash that I couldn't help but smile. At least I wasn't be the only one losing my mind about all this.

I folded both my legs beneath me, sitting cross-legged on the wooden bench we shared. "I can imagine. Did Mist tell him anything about tomorrow?"

Paul's face scrunched in confusion. "What's tomorrow?"

It was physically impossible to refrain from rolling my eyes while recounting the Sensational Sister's mandatory summons. "Misty's sisters are guest-starring at some club downtown and they're basically forcing her to attend. The girls and I are going with her for emotional support."

Despite our recent lack of communication, Misty had at least told us about that. The biggest shock of all was that Misty had actually agreed to go to this thing, even though this invite had suspicious written all over it. Although after witnessing more than enough evidence of her sister's influence, Misty had probably reached the same conclusion I had: that for as bad as things were now, they could make things a lot worse with little to no effort should she try to refuse their demands.

"Well if Ash knows about it, he hasn't mentioned it." Paul leaned back against the piano; his elbows propped up on the closed lid. "Do you guys really have time to be going to this thing anyway?"

I gave him my best withering stare in response.

The click was almost audible as black hit blue, the first time he'd made direct eye contact all day. Behind dark twin lenses, a split-second twitch changed his expression from apathetic questioning to one of remorse.

Paul had caught himself. His gaze slid away. "Sorry. I'm not trying to judge."

All at once I was suffocating in my own breath. I could practically feel the oxygen in my lungs turning to carbon dioxide the longer I held onto it. I forced saliva down my steadily-drying throat as though it would cleanse the air from my body. Paul's question, though badly timed and predictably rude, wasn't out of character for him in the slightest.

Apologizing for his own blunt honesty? That was new.

"Everything…okay?" I asked, the soft question practically tasting like uncertainty. Don't push it, echoed at the back of my skull.

Paul lifted his hand and ran his fingers roughly through the bangs covering his forehead. His eyes scrunched shut again as if he were in pain, his head falling back to rest against the shiny black lid of the piano. Eventually, he let out a sigh.

"I'd like to tell you there's no need to worry… but that wouldn't be true."

His confession had me reeling.

If there were ever going to be a signal for me to completely abandon my prior restraint and PUSH IT like my life depended on it, I had to assume this was it! So, shoving every bit of self-control I had aside, I didn't hesitate to take a shot at breaking down those walls.

I sucked in a deep breath through clenched teeth and prayed that just this once, I was reading the signs correctly.

"Well for what it's worth, I appreciate your honesty," I smiled in earnest, the strain of having to hold myself back until now gradually easing. "But you know, just because one of my best friend's lives is imploding doesn't mean I'm totally unavailable to help you with…whatever."

His head rolled so that his eyes could meet mine again. His steady gaze, always so carefully blank, gave way to conflict today. I was so used to staring into the contemplative void and smiling, screaming, pleading for any kind of reaction, but to finally see something swimming in that gaze, to have to watch as it wrestled against the surface and fought not to drown, it hurt as though I were the one breathing in water.

But still I smiled, ready to dive in and rescue him. All he had to do was ask me to.

Paul smiled back; his head still lolled over. "I appreciate the offer Dawn. But you have a lot on your plate too. And I don't just mean Misty," he nodded towards the guitar by my side.

My shoulders dropped. I couldn't say I was surprised. But even if he wasn't willing to let me pull him out of this, that didn't mean I couldn't throw him a life preserver. I wracked my brain for an excuse to keep this conversation alive.

"Well then…maybe you could help me instead. Take your mind off of…whatever's bothering you for a while," I offered spur-of-the-moment.

Paul finally straightened his spine and lifted his head, along with one of his eyebrows to don his favorite look of skepticism. "Aren't I already helping you?"

That earned him another glare. "Don't you ever get tired of being so facetious?"

He propped his chin up with one arm as though it was already too much effort to keep his head up any longer. Despite his dramatic act of exhaustion, I celebrated the victory of the amused upturn of his lips.

"How can I help?" he relented.

As much as I wanted to offer any and all of my assistance to him, I accepted that this was the next best thing. Being here with Paul, keeping him talking, taking his mind off of whatever it was he needed to work through just for a little while. Might as well swim with the current and see where it led me.

I adjusted my posture to lean against the piano as he did. "I want your opinion."

"On?" he prodded.

"Misty."

Paul let out a scoff. "She's a raging idiot."

I choked on my own tongue in shock. The sound must have been all Paul needed to hear to figure out how insulted I was on her behalf.

"Oh, my bad. I thought you asked for my opinion because you wanted honesty," his sarcasm was palpable in the face of my offense.

"I did, but don't you think that's a little bit harsh?" I shot back.

His stare was dry. "I'm not exactly a sugar-coating kind of guy, in case you haven't noticed."

I huffed, forcing myself not to jump to any conclusions. Okay yes, Paul was going through his own issues and that could explain his increased harshness. And yeah, I could fully admit to myself that I was pretty peeved at Misty right now as well. But I still wasn't about to sit here and let him rail on one of my best friends to his heart's content.

"Okay, can you at least offer a little context so your statement doesn't sound completely mean and uncalled for?" I stressed.

"Where do you want me to start!?" he threw up his hands, gesturing wildly. I was honestly taken aback at just how frustrated he came across. "She has internalization down to a science. She knew all of this was gonna blow up in her face. She's known it for months now, since you guys started your band! But she gave you NO warning about it! She just avoided her problem with the hopes that it would go away on its own. And when anyone points out how incredibly stupid that decision was, she gets defensive because of all that anger she's got buried inside.

"So, in conclusion. Raging, as in angry. Idiot, as in not very smart," his rant concluded.

I quickly flicked my gaze down and caught a glimpse of Paul's fists, still clenching and unclenching as he tried to slow his breathing. I held my hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I get it," I relented, attempting to sound soothing.

Now I found myself questioning literally all of my earlier thoughts about him. Up until today I had thought that Paul wasn't the type to get wrapped up in other people's problems, but this conversation had taken a very emotionally-charged turn. It made me wonder if Misty was really the topic of our conversation anymore and not something more personal. Something that still remained unsaid.

I sighed heavily, staring down at my hazy reflection in the piano's shiny lid I sincerely focused on my response to what he'd just laid bare.

"I would be lying if I said that I completely understood her point of view," I admitted. "I want to. I want to understand why she felt like she couldn't tell us… but I don't. I wish she'd have talked to us about all of this long before now."

I didn't want to be…but I was just so mad and…disappointed. And not all of those emotions were solely directed at Misty. A part of me had to wonder whether any of this could have been avoided had I acted just a little bit differently at the start of the school year. Would Misty have come to talk to me about this sooner had I not been so stuck in my own head?

Then again, it wasn't like she had talked to anyone else either. So that, in part, was still on her.

"I still wish she'd talk to me," I confessed.

"She never really struck me as the 'loves to talk about her feelings' type of girl," Paul commented, though it lacked the passionate annoyance from before. "And you saw her sisters first-hand. Are you really surprised that she kept you all in the dark?"

No, I thought. The exact opposite. Staring down that bottle-blonde debutante in front of the entire school had put my best friend's whole life into perspective. But an explanation and an excuse were very different things.

"I knew Misty had a complicated relationship with her sisters but…I never imagined anything like that." I traced the veins through my skin absentmindedly. My thumbnail moved back and forth along the blue lines, barely visible under the surface. "I guess I just…thought her relationship with us was different. Better. More open at least."

My blunt nail dug into my fleshy palm, the discomfort distracting me from my own dissatisfaction. "But after seeing how awful they were for myself…I guess I'm not surprised. How could you trust anyone after growing up with that?"

I looked over at him, the question hanging in the air between us. Paul looked straight ahead, his gaze trained forwards and unfocused, staring at nothing.

"I don't know. I guess you don't, even if you want to," he eventually answered.

The silence settled once more. While I sat digesting Paul's words, though the unease of the situation didn't lift, I noted with pleasant surprise how the peacefulness had remained. Despite the emotions that had risen high during our discussion, the temperature between the two of us hadn't heated. Our conversation was just as civil as it was the moment he'd walked through the door.

I paused for a moment before speaking again, hesitant to leave behind this serene moment of contemplation. "So, what do you think I should do? How do I get through to her?"

Paul straightened up, pulling himself back to the conversation and out of his own head. "Dawn, I really don't think I'm the best person to ask for advice. I don't know Misty as well as you do."

"You're kind of similar to her though. You both like to go it alone, you don't really like all that emotional stuff, and you're both kind of set in your ways," I countered his self-deprecation.

Paul's blank stare was ever present even as his hand came to land heavily on his chest, right over his heart. "Ouch. Harsh criticism. I dare say I'm impressed."

I couldn't help but laugh, the dryness of his humor washing away any lingering anxiety left behind by his earlier rant. "You had no problem being brutally honest thirty seconds ago! Come on! Don't hold back now! How would you want someone to approach you if you were in her shoes?"

Paul scoffed. "Well, if I were her, I'd want to be left alone even if I was hanging off a three-story bridge by one hand and you were standing there with a rope. But I get the sense that's not the advice your looking for."

Now he was just being contrary. I shoved his shoulder playfully, only kind of trying to knock him onto the floor. "NO, letting my best friend fall to her death while I stand there and watch is NOT a helpful suggestion!" I tried my best to remain sarcastic but the imagery had my cheeks hurting from trying not to smile. "And for the record, I'd pull both of you up kicking and screaming with my bare hands if I had to!"

Paul didn't even move an inch despite my best efforts to dislodge him. He just rolled his eyes and smirked at my feeble attempts to move him. "Yeah, that sounds like…"

Then Paul trailed off, his arm going stiff under my hand. I waited in my very best attempt at patience, wondering (dying to know) if he would continue on or leave it up to me to keep the dialogue between us going. If he'd noticed the eager tapping of my heel against the floor, he made no comment.

Paul sucked in air like a hiss. Was that an attempt to psyche himself up? He leaned forward, propping himself up on his knees. I was so fixated on what he'd do next, I couldn't even figure out what to do with my hand still resting on his jacket sleeve. Just as I was about to lose my nerve and retract it, he finally continued.

"That sounds like something my brother would say."

For the first time, it looked like a little bit of sunlight was getting in through the cracks in Paul's defenses. In all the scenarios I'd imagined of what would lay beyond the armor shielding his past, all the horrors my paranoia had dreamt up, I never would have predicted this to be the first revelation.

"You never talk about your brother," I stated the obvious, unable to come up with anything more intelligent.

"Reggie. He's all I got," Paul sighed, then shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm pretty grateful that we get along for the most part. Especially after seeing what Misty is going through."

I thought about my next question for countless seconds. "So, you guys…would you ever fight?"

"All the time." Paul actually smiled, the most honest smile I'd ever seen from him. He met my gaze over his shoulder, looking relieved of all things. "I am who I am now, because of him."

It was so nice to see such genuine sentiment that I felt myself smiling back at him. The moment's serenity was as sweet and warm as the sunset on our backs. For now, it was easy to fill my lungs with air. For now, it was okay to be mad because it was effortless to let it go. It was okay to smile like nothing was wrong because for now everything was right.

I wished it were possible to bottle this feeling up so I could hold on to it a little longer. I could carry it around, put it away on a shelf for a rainy day when I needed to feel safe and happy. Maybe I knew even before the realization hit that a moment this starry-eyed couldn't possibly last. Because all at once and far too quickly, I remembered what our whole conversation had actually been about, Paul's words resonating in all the wrong ways, and my mood came crashing down along with my smile.

"I guess…the same could be said for Misty too," I breathed, despair practically climbing out of my throat with the painfully true words I'd made real.

The room was quiet again, like a house with all its windows boarded up. I dropped my hand and turned my gaze down to stare at the ivory keys below me until the lines between them began to blur together. This wasn't why we were here. What was I doing? Getting caught up in a moment that only mattered to me while I was trying to get advice about Misty? While I was trying to get Paul's mind off of his own troubles?

Misty was suffering. But here I sat being angry at her, and at my own inability to help her, and getting distracted over a boy who might never let me in more than he already had. I had to focus on what I could do now, not what I wish could be.

I swallowed the unrequited feelings down. Now wasn't the time to let them distract me. The weaker part of me wanted the serenity back. But I'd have to settle for blistering reality.

"I wish I knew what I could do for her." The statement came out with a tremble, like it had been standing in the rain for nine hours. I hated how vulnerable it sounded. I hated how powerless I felt. Just like how I hated the anger and the quiet and the weight that covered every inch of muscle I had.

I so badly wanted to help. But I had no idea what to do. Was there anything that I even could do when Misty was so dead-set on pushing us away?

Paul's arm dropped down from the lid, his tan fist resting just inches away from my pale, slender hand.

"If she and I really are similar, then the only advice I can offer is… just being there for her is a pretty good start."

Funny, I thought, that's all I've been trying to do until now. And still it didn't seem like enough. I wanted to fix everything for her but maybe I couldn't. Just like how I couldn't force Paul to open up to me.

It wasn't the answer I wanted, but I felt myself smile anyway. "You really think so?"

"It helps more than you think," he insisted, his voice low. Something about his earnestness made it hard not to believe him.

I watched his fingers unfurl. And slowly, gracefully even, they weaved between the spaces of my own. Rough calluses came to rest softly against my knuckles, and I was left completely breathless.

"It helps me, at least."

My wide eyes searched for his but they were lost, staring down at our twisted hands as though they were all that he could see. The weight of the ocean lifted from my shoulders, but it didn't make breathing any easier.

Earlier I'd been so sure I was suffocating. But now it felt more like carbon monoxide was filling my lungs instead of air and I'd just swallowed a lit match.

Everything was burning. My lungs, my hands, my face, every nerve in my body was on fire. The flames spread and danced and rose higher and higher, filling my head with smoke and leaving me dizzy. So, this is what a burning building felt like. It was a terrifying, chaotic sort of wonder.

Without warning it felt like my mouth was full of glass, the windows of my burning house finally shattering. No matter how badly I wanted to hold my breath and keep them in, each word I wanted to say, every thought I wanted to voice felt like it was grinding between my teeth, into my gums, cutting their way up my throat until I was practically choking on bloody ribbons. If I could pick the pieces out and arrange them into a coherent sentence it would be a miracle, but it seemed far more likely that my jagged worries would vomit themselves up in a mess of sharp edges that would do nothing more than harm us both.

Do I dare keep pushing further?

Like the inner flames, my words sought to spread. They wanted to burst out of the frame containing them and be seen and felt despite the destruction they might cause. I gathered my courage and stepped further through the fire that was already consuming me.

"Paul, I…"

The chime of his cellphone cut me off. And the moment turned to ash along with the words on my tongue.

The roughness of his hand vanished, pulling away to dig through his pockets for the cursed device that had robbed me of my chance to speak. I'd been doused in ice water, the cold washing away the charred marks on my bones and the broken glass in my teeth, leaving a clean but hollow skeleton behind. My head cleared, free to breathe in oxygen again and exercise its common sense, which was probably why it started berating me.

There you go again, my reasoning chastised. Playing with wildfire.

Thrown back into the present moment, Paul took one look at the screen then rolled his eyes. He placed his instrument aside, tossed his vibrating phone onto the lid of the piano and promptly stood up and walked away.

I looked back and forth between the device and its owner, bravery still stuck in my throat.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" I spoke up, not sounding disappointed in the slightest. I just went back to pretending as though what had just transpired hadn't meant anything to me. Like it never even happened. Like how Paul was acting now.

"Nope."

The vibration stopped, Paul's phone falling quiet. The silence didn't even get the chance to become awkward before the ringing started all over again.

"Paul?" I prodded again.

His sigh was harsh and frustration made its way back into his tone. "It's fine. I've already talked to him today, now he's just being annoying."

I couldn't help myself. Desperate for a distraction, I leaned over and read the contact's name emblazoned across Paul's phone screen. In what could only be the coincidence of the year, the very person we'd just been talking about, Reggie's name was lit up behind the glass.

"I thought you said you and your brother got along," I stated boldly, clinging to the cracks chipped out of his armor. I looked over my shoulder to witness Paul giving me a look that was exhaustion personified.

"I also said 'for the most part'. Today is the exception," he waved me off.

The ringing continued.

I don't know what possessed me. Perhaps it was all that courage I'd gathered but missed the chance to utilize, begging to be put to use. Because before I could talk myself out of it, my hand was already snatching up the phone, my thumb swiping across the screen to finally stop the unpleasant chiming and answer the call.

"Paul's phone, friend of Paul speaking," I announced into the device.

Paul gaped at me like I'd just murdered his best friend at gunpoint.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must have the wrong number. The Paul I was trying to call doesn't have any friends, he was just kidnapped by a bunch of extroverts," the voice in my ear didn't even miss a beat.

"HA!" My laughter escaped my already grinning mouth. I pulled the phone away from my ear and turned back towards my paralyzed companion. "You didn't tell me he was funny!"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Paul finally broke out of his stunned horror and surged forward.

But I was already up and scurrying away before he could reach me. "You should have picked up! You had your chance, you brought this on yourself really!" I rounded the length of the piano to put the instrument between us.

"Is that my brother? Tell him I'm on your side, mystery-girl," Reggie cheered me on through the transceiver.

"Reggie agrees with me," I relayed the message.

"Dawn, hang up!" Paul ordered, pounding his fist on the piano lid.

"Put me on speaker! Then it'll be two against one!" Reggie coached me, like a little devil on my shoulder. I gave in to the temptation.

"Good idea. There you go!" I pushed the speaker button and held the phone out at arm's length.

"Thank you, mystery-girl! Oh, and hello finally, little brother," Reggie's voice sounded clearly throughout the studio.

"Reggie, get off the phone! Dawn, give me my phone back or so help me-!" Paul began to stalk around the piano's edge, but for every step he took forward I matched him backwards.

"Oh, so NOW you want your phone? Make up your mind already," I chided, shrugging as though this turn of events and brand of teasing were completely normal when in reality, I was completely winging it and hoping for the best.

"HA, I like her already!" Reggie interjected.

"Dawn, I'm serious, give it back!" Paul ignored his brother's remarks. He lurched from left to right while keeping his feet rooted to the floor, trying to fake me out on which direction he was going to take. I mirrored his movements, bracing myself to dive either way.

"So you can hang up on your poor brother? Now that'd just be rude!"

He glared daggers at me, clearly not appreciating the irony. And for as childish as it felt to be having a game of keep-away between two teenagers, I was also probably enjoying this far more than I had any right to.

It wasn't often Paul got flustered. Even less so when my actions were the cause.

"Wait, Dawn? Mystery girl, are you Dawn? As in Berlitz?"

Hearing my own name from the transceiver must not have only shocked me, because neither one of us moved. Had Paul taken advantage of the momentary distraction I would have easily been overpowered and the call brought to an abrupt conclusion. But he stilled just as quickly as I had now that the question hovered between us.

"Uh, yeah, that's me. How do you know my name?" I posed the question, both kind of anticipating and fearing his answer. Paul stared wide-eyed between the phone in my hand and the look of suspicion I bore down on him. It seemed he didn't know what answer to expect either.

"Your last year's SHOWCASE winner! How could I NOT know who you are? Aw man, Paul how could you not tell me?"

"Reggie, I swear to Arceus…!" Paul veered to my left without much forethought. The abandoned piano bench blocked his path while I darted right and was in the clear. My determination to keep my prize away from my assailant was renewed tenfold. My heart pounded in my ears, but I couldn't let this call end now.

"I can't believe you became friends with the girl from that video! Is she the one you're helping learn guitar? You didn't think to mention she was internet-famous!? I mean, you talked before about a troublesome girl, but I never would have made the connection!"

"Wait, you know about the lessons too?" I asked while staring straight across the instrument at the only unwilling participant in this conversation. Though my real question was in-part posed to both brothers, that being how much had Paul told Reggie about me, the younger of the two returned my questioning look with one of deathly antagonism.

"Last chance. Hand it over." Paul, holding ever-strong in his defenses, held out his hand with uncompromising demand. The same hand that once held mine, I noted.

I thrust the phone in the opposite direction defiantly, as far as was physically possible, and ignored his 'last chance' offer. I was already standing in the middle of the fire, there was no turning back now. What could he have possibly told Reggie that he wouldn't want me to know? If it was about me anyway, didn't I have a right to know even more?

We were friends… right? It couldn't be anything too bad, right? And it certainly couldn't be anything more…could it?

I begged my heart not to go down that path. My hopes couldn't survive the fall from so high up.

"Of course!" Reggie's cheer chimed back in. "Paul has talked about you lots of times."

My mind went blank, then it was like someone had plunged an injection of pure serotonin into my brain. Relief, giddiness, an overall haze of joy with an edge of disbelief clouded my head that had me almost vibrating with delight. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

That decision was promptly taken away from me as Paul ducked down and disappeared behind the instrument separating us. Seconds too late did I realize what that meant. While I tried to turn and run away, my momentary distraction gave Paul the head-start he needed to slide underneath the piano behind me, and before I could flee my feet were involuntarily being lifted off the ground.

"AH! NO! Paul put me down!" I screamed, kicking at nothing but air as Paul locked his hold around my waist, lifting me up even higher. Arceus, why was he so tall!? He only needed one arm to keep me airborne while his other hand reached for the phone in my hands.

"I warned you troublesome, now drop it!" he ordered.

I stretched like my life depended on it, determined to keep the device out of his hands. My arm waved wildly, dodging his grasp. He may have had me trapped but he still had to wrestle the phone away from me with only one arm.

"NEVER!" I shouted in defiance.

I knew there was the slight possibility that I wouldn't make it out of this situation with his trust totally intact. But I was still so high off my adrenaline and the knowledge of my having enough significance in Paul's life that he mentioned me lots of times to the only family member he'd ever voluntarily revealed to me, that I couldn't care less.

I was walking on air. Literally.

"Um, hello?" the new voice startled us both.

Either from the struggle of my outstretched arm, our uneven distribution of weight, the impromptu interruption stealing both of our attentions, or perhaps even a combination of all of the above, our tangled mess lost its balance and began hurdling towards the ground. At the last second Paul twisted and hit the ground first, getting the wind knocked out of him as he laid flat on his back on the studio floor. I victoriously held the phone high, still in my hand even while atop my assailant's chest.

Paul stared towards the ceiling, predictably apathetic. "Ow."

I sprung up to my knees, waving the phone around like a trophy. "HA!" I cheered. Looking towards the door I finally found the owner of the voice. The other three members of Heroes Flaw were staring at me in confusion. "Oh, hey guys!"

"I feel like we're interrupting something here," Gary spoke up first, looking thoroughly amused at the situation they'd walked in on.

"Well I guess that's my cue. We'll talk later, bye!" Reggie speedily signed off, the click of the receiver following soon after.

"No, wait, Reggie don't leave me!" I pleaded in vain to a dial tone.

"Troublesome…"

I looked back down and Paul's eyes were all sharp edges, staring up at me with unimpressed scorn.

Still, I met his stabbing look with a grin that split my face in two. "I'm not scared of you. What would you and your brother talk about all the time if I were gone?"

Paul jolted upright, startling me backwards. "THAT statement was wildly exaggerated and taken out of context!"

"So, what's going on here?" Drew inquired, he and his friends still not having moved inside the room from the doorway.

"Betrayal," Paul answered accusatorily.

Before I could retort, Paul's phone started to ring again from the palm of my hand. I didn't think twice about accepting the call, desperately hoping that it was Reggie calling me back.

"No Dawn, not again!" Paul protested to no avail, as I dodged his grasp once again and stood up from the floor.

"Hello? This is Paul's phone," I greeted, praying to be met with equal enthusiasm.

But silence and a dial tone were my only response. Not even a hello.

I deflated with disappointment. "Huh, they hung up. Must have been a wrong number."

Paul finally succeeded in snatching his phone back from my grip. One look at him was all it took to see that his limit of dealing with my antics had been reached.

"Okay, lesson over. You're banned from the studio for the rest of the day, effective immediately."

"What!? You can't do that!" I argued, but Paul was already gathering up my bag. He practically threw the backpack in my arms before he spun me around by my shoulders and began forcefully escorting me out of the room.

"Watch me," he countered, leaving no room for argument.

I got the feeling that I'd pushed as far as was appropriate. I didn't think it was too far, Paul was still speaking to me after all, but it was clear that he was officially done. The boys by the door finally entered the room, but no small talk was exchanged between us as I was rushed past the threshold and into the hallway.

"Fine," I relented, turning back towards the room one last time. I couldn't resist getting the final word in. "Don't talk about me too much while I'm gone."

Paul didn't even hesitate. The door was slammed shut in my face.

"I probably deserved that…" I admitted to no one but myself.

My heart was in knots. Reggie's admission, so simple but clearly teasing, honest in the most undeniable way, had me seeing stars! It was like I was flying, spinning circles around the moon and bursting through clouds, breathing in thin air and not caring if I ever set foot on the ground again for the rest of my life!

Paul would probably hold today against me, and for good reason if I was being fair. He probably wouldn't even let me look at his phone, let alone get within ten feet of it ever again. He may or may not help me with the rest of my performance preparation, depending on how mad he was and whether he'd hold a grudge over what happened.

As I began to make my way down the hallway, I snuck one last glance back at the studio door.

But that last moment before he shut the door? That embarrassed blush at his brother's insinuation?

I smiled so hard it hurt. And the fluttering in my chest… it reminded me of wings.

"Worth it."

Misty

The next day

The air was heavy in every possible way.

Synthesized music -electric and with a beat I could feel under my feet- pounded through the air along the busy street. It was loud enough to drown out my own thoughts past the rumbling.

Humidity covered everything like a thick blanket, and the dark clouds that blocked out the night sky were equally smothering. The dread was worst of all though, surrounding me on all sides, walling me in. It was like being trapped in a glass box, everyone else on the outside and the little space I had to breathe was slowly filling up with thick, wet cement.

A storm was coming. It was already in the air. And it was about to enter this gaudy, techno-pop themed nightclub and ruin all these people's evening of fun.

"This sucks," May whined, fidgeting on the sidewalk as we stood in line.

A pretty safe prediction for how the rest of this night is about to go.

The four of us stood outside an unsurprisingly grungy looking building; an abstract mess of grey brick and brushed steel with a flickering neon-red sign that read "Monster House" splashed across the entrance. Quite a fitting name really, considering the headline act the establishment had hired for the evening.

Boxing us in were young adults several years older than us, similarly impatient as they waited for the line to advance forward while the sky threatened to open up on us all. Their wardrobes were strangely plain though, a surprising number of them wearing all-white and plain cotton outfits, not the glitzy club-going attire one usually saw on these streets at this hour. It was a very boring dress-code that I couldn't quite believe my trend-obsessed sisters would condone.

The four of us split the unanimous crowd down the middle, Dawn and May as colorful as ever in shorts and shiny tops, Leaf dressed in her conservative yet classy way in a long wrap-dress that went down to her calves, and myself dressed on Dawn's behalf and insistence. My previously untouched outfit, emerald jeans and a black midriff blouse was supposed to be specially reserved for the Platinum concert, personally picked out by Lila, but Dawn had insisted that I break it out early. I didn't have a lot of alternative options, these were hands-down the nicest clothes I owned within my wardrobe of work-out clothes and blue jeans. Even still, the present situation had all four of us looking a little out of place.

However odd the separation, I couldn't really bring myself to care. I knew that plenty of bars and clubs had themed-nights to try and boost attendance; I regularly saw club-crawlers prowling the streets whenever I locked up the café after working an evening shift, so maybe we just didn't get the memo. Whatever Monster House had going on tonight had nothing to do with me or the reason I was here. I wasn't stuck in this line to 'let loose' so to speak.

"WHY are we out here waiting when we were invited to this trashy club in the first place!? Can't we cut the line or something!?" May continued to complain.

"We may have been invited, but we're not the special guests or anything," Leaf commented tiredly. "Still, you'd think the Sensational Sisters would have made sure we got in since they wanted us to come so badly."

May stomped her foot in frustration. "Isn't there some kinda list we'd be on? That's how it always is on TV! Mr. Bouncer-guy always has some list!"

Dawn moved forward to stand on her toes, gazing over the heads of the people in front of us. "We're almost to the front of the line."

May crossed her arms, finally relenting to behave herself. Minutes passed and the line moved like Muk, but eventually the people in front of us, adorned in fluorescent white and swaying as they walked (already tipsy, if the bitter smell was anything to go by) slipped past the velvet rope. Then, a stereotypical six-foot tall sentinel came to stand in our paths.

"You girls got ID?" the man inquired, looking down at us.

Dawn stepped up before I could take a breath. "Yeah, but we're not here to drink. We were invited here by the special guests going on tonight."

It was like talking to a statue. He barely even moved. "Uh-huh. Likely story."

"Where's your LIST Bouncer-guy!?" May butted in, barely coming up to his chest even as she puffed herself up, trying to make herself look taller. "Because if it exists, we're on it!"

"A bunch of teenage VIPS?" he challenged May's demands; his expression frozen in disinterest. "Yeah, right."

Leaf shrugged, clapping her hands together in finality. "Well, we tried! Let's go get churros and call it a night!"

"Arceus, that sounds like SO much more fun," May immediately backed down from the bouncer at the mere mention of food.

But it could never be that easy. I finally stepped to the front of our group.

"Here," I fished the card out of my back pocket, gold marker smeared across the Sensational Sisters logo, and handed it to the guy. He took one look at my sisters handwriting, proclaiming those who presented it had instant permission to enter lest threatening consequences befall otherwise, and moved aside.

"Ah. Go on in, then," he relented, seemingly satisfied.

"THAT worked!?" May gawked as the previously obstinate bouncer unhooked the velvet rope to allow us forward.

"Misty…" Dawn trailed off cautiously, following behind as I charged ahead. But even as my sights were trained forward, I couldn't miss the reluctance in those that followed me. I paused halfway through the open doorway, barley turning my head back around to address them, lest my courage crumble under their collective hesitation.

My bravery wasn't feeling particularly sturdy now that we were actually here.

"It's fine," I insisted, though honestly feeling just as worried as the rest of them looked. "Let's just get this over with."

The four of us hurried through the entryway into an airlock separating the front door from the rest of the club. A woman with the sides of her head shaved and a multicolored foe-hawk stamped our hands with ink to indicate we were underage, then ushered us through a steel door and straight into darkness.

We walked in, basically blind.

A couple steps was all it took before my senses were bombarded with stimulation. The club was practically pitch black if not for the purple-tinted lights shining down on us. The mosh-pit of people on the dance-floor was glowing, their white attires turning bright blue through the dimly lit interior. Black-lights, I realized, and suddenly the number of people wearing white made perfect sense. Not that I could even make the dancers out that clearly. If I breathed too deeply, I would choke on the manufactured smoke filling the dance-floor.

"I REPEAT, THIS SUCKS!" May somehow conveyed over the blaring music.

Leaf tapped on my shoulder and mimed to a dark staircase hidden off to the side, leading up to what looked like a second-floor. Not much caring where it went, we both grabbed one of our friends and dragged them away from the chaos and up into the unknown.

The corridor opened into more of a lounge-type area; a veranda that wrapped around the building's interior and looked down onto the floor below. Softly-lit but brightly-colored lanterns hung from the rafters and while the music still blared obnoxiously, at least up here I could think past the splitting headache.

We weaved through metal tables to grab a spot to sit by the railing. I looked down on the sea of swirling bodies, all of them completely caught up in the ecstasy of the club experience.

"Arceus, its hot in here. How can these people stand it?" May asked, fanning herself with her hand.

"They're probably too buzzed to care. This place does have bottle service," Leaf pointed over the railing to the long, neon-lit bar opposite the curtain-drawn stage.

Waitresses dresses in fluorescent pink (probably meant to distinguish them in the dark) carried trays of glasses to and from the crowded bar top, circling the outskirts of the dance-floor to take orders in and out of the enclosed staircase as patrons drunk themselves into bliss. I couldn't see from our angle, but there must have been tables somewhere down on the first floor too. That would be a lot of stairs to walk up and down all night otherwise. My sympathetic-waitress heart went out to them; the tiny square footage of Sunset Café was a dream to traverse in comparison.

And all the while the dancers ignorantly swayed on, too caught up in the music to notice the staff. They almost looked like blue flames in the dark, dancing as though trying to burn everything to the ground. The parties occupying the other tables around us were similarly lost in their own world, ordering multiple rounds every time the waitresses cleared their tables and zipped up and down the stairs, giving no thanks no matter how many times they made the journey.

My grip on the railing would leave bruises on my palms that no one would ever see. It was easy to hide scarred hands when they were always balled into fists. Just like it was easier to act blind to others when the room was already dark.

"I miss Time Gear! At least our club has class!" May openly criticized beside me.

"Are you going to complain about everything all night long?" Dawn poked her roommate's forehead, earning a stubborn pout in return.

"It's called trash-talking, and it's customary when confronting an enemy. This is just a warm-up for when those three bobble-heads finally show their faces," May stretched her hands far above her head, as though preparing for a physical fight rather than a verbal one.

"Speaking of," Leaf interjected, "Do you have any idea when your sisters are supposed to go on tonight?"

"Nope." My short response cut off any potential for conversation. Looking down on the thoughtless patrons and the overworked staff just resulted in my empathy feeding into my restless rage. There were too many people crammed into too small a space, it was impossible to see between the black-light and the fake-fog, and the scent of alcohol mixed with sweat was all-encompassing. Everything about this place sought to overwhelm my already strained senses.

"Hey."

I finally tore my focus away from the dancers, the noise, and the stench of manufactured enjoyment to give Dawn my undivided attention.

"It's going to be fine. We're just gonna watch them perform, and then we're gonna leave. Simple as that," she reassured me, trying to calm my bristling nerves. "We won't be here any longer than we have to be."

I nodded in agreement but didn't comment on how Dawn's smile turned a little more forced for it. It was better not to say anything; I didn't want to risk that my words would come out more biting than I wanted, fueled by frustration but with nowhere else to go but at the closest target. I couldn't take my anger out on Dawn of all people. She'd been more patient and understanding about all of this than I deserved.

"Well, look-y who I found! I'd know that malicious expression anywhere!" The voice that came up behind us was like rusty nails being dragged down a pane of glass.

We all turned to face the intruder into our conversation. Somehow, I couldn't even fake being surprised when the woman stepped into our personal space, the obnoxious bright red suit-jacket she always wore ever-clashing with her dark blue hair and darker olive-green eyes.

"So glad you could make it Misty," she said in her sickly-sweet tone of false sincerity. "And a good evening to your little friends too!"

All three girls looked back at me, but my glare was locked in place.

After several beats of silence, the woman turned her syrupy smile back on my companions once it became clear that none of us knew how to respond. Her arms flapped out before she swept them into a grand bow, as though she'd just finished an act before an adoring crowd and not standing in front of four exasperated teenage girls. "Of course, allow me to introduce myself-"

"Who's she and why should we care?" May posed the question over the newcomer's grand gesture, cutting her off and ignoring her entirely. The newcomer's fake-smile finally faltered at May's blatant disregard.

"Stella," I relented and addressed her directly. "What do you want?"

Her act melted like cotton candy in water, the smile that stretched across her face shrinking down to a glower. She seemed so much more relaxed now that all her pleasantries had dissolved; like a Salazzle that'd just been given permission to spit fire, she was now free to do what came naturally to her. Getting over May's dismissal immediately, Stella almost seemed impressed at how quickly her act had been seen through.

"Pleasant as ever, I see. And as for your question Little-Red," she turned on May, the slam of her palm against the metal table overshadowing all the noise surrounding us for a split second. "I'm the manager to the one and only Sensational Sisters Dance Trio! That's why you should care!"

Stella leaned back, her spine straight like a rod as she crossed her arms and barred her teeth so intently one would think venom flowed through them. Even when the smile she wore was genuinely wicked, somehow her earlier practiced pleasantries had still been worse.

"Soon to be quartet, isn't that right Miss Youngest-Sensational-Sister-in-the-making?"

I really thought I'd been better prepared for this very type of confrontation tonight. But I was ashamed to admit that I flinched. "That hasn't been decided yet," I responded coolly.

"Hasn't it though? You've been preparing for this pretty much your whole life, haven't you?" Stella countered.

"That's rich coming from you Ringmaster," the bite in my insult was needle-sharp. She matched my flinch in turn.

"What's that about?"

I tore my glare away from Stella's. Dawn had been the one to interject, but all three of my friends were glancing back and forth between us, brows furrowed and looking completely lost. For a second, I'd almost forgotten they were there.

"We all have to start somewhere Little-Pink. I believe Misty is referring to the fact that I originally got my start in show-business through the Pokémon Circus industry. But entertainment is a broad business! Managing human performers is much more profitable; a better gig all around!" she explained, a little defensively I might add.

"Better smelling I'll bet too," Leaf muttered under the beat of the music.

I rolled my eyes; even her explanations were glossed over to hide the ugliness underneath. Acting all high and mighty, as if she wasn't the one who ran her circus into the ground by being a slave driver. Which was exactly the kind of toxic, obsessive drive that had caught my sisters' attention in the first place. I begrudgingly had to admit; Stella fit into their world like a water-type in the ocean. She'd been born in the spotlight, but she was just as good at deciding who best to direct the spotlight at to draw in a crowd. She reveled in the control my sisters had granted her.

"Did you come over here because you've got something to say? Or not?" I asked impatiently. Every nerve in my body felt like it was bracing for impact.

Stella sighed, rubbing her temple as though nursing a headache. "I had hoped boarding school would improve your attitude, but maybe that was too much to ask for. You'll surly be a treat to have on the road with us, won't you?" her jab was thick with sarcasm.

"Did you not hear her!?" Dawn finally stood up from her seat, hands coming down hard on the metallic tabletop. "It's not decided whether she's going on tour or not!"

A few club patrons looked over, but most of them were too out of it to notice. My sister's manager just stared down the lead singer, left eyebrow cocked and lips smirking as though to say was that your best attempt at intimidating me?

"Aw, your little friends are so cute," Stella gushed, condescension dripping from her grin. "Let's see…"

She pointed to Dawn. "We've got the leader," her finger moved down the line to Leaf, "the stoic intellectual," then to May, "the spontaneous one, and…"

Her accusatory finger landed on me, "As always, the scary one. Even your group dynamic is just like it is with your big sisters! You'll fit right in!"

I choked. Shock and horror at the comparison stabbed into my gut and twisted like a knife. I swallowed the fire down, not letting myself dwell on the what if's posed by Stella's taunting. If it weren't for the white-hot rage that quickly burned away the numb detachment this conversation had lulled me into…

"Why you-!" My teeth ground against each other as I rose, barely containing the dangerous words that begged to be spit out.

"Well, I hope you girls enjoy the show," Stella took that as her cue to leave. She spun on her heel and waved behind her as she walked away through the tables of drunk people. "And good luck by the way!"

The chatter swirled around us, but our table was still as the dead.

"Huh?" Dawn broke out of her daze first. "What did she mean by that?"

"Like I care," I spat through gritted teeth, harshly dropping back down into my chair. What little nails I had were already making divots in the meat of my forearms.

"She…probably just meant good luck with the concert coming up, right? I mean, your sisters probably told her about it," Leaf rationalized.

I couldn't see past the red to think about Stella's last words too in-depth. The comparisons made still blistered in my ears. My friends were nothing like them. Though it didn't seem like any of my companions were dwelling at all on Stella's accusations, I was more than insulted enough for the four of us combined.

"Oh, forget about her!" May spied over the railing towards the staircase. "We've got other things to worry about."

I followed her eye-line down the wall, through smog and flashing lights and more than a few obnoxious drunks hanging over the railing yelling random obscenities at the crowd below.

If looks could kill, there would be three teenage-boy shaped holes in the wall and Heroes Flaw would have lost three quarters of their members.

"What are they doing here!?" I demanded as though any of the girls knew. Which really, there was at least a fifty-fifty chance that one of them had orchestrated the whole thing, so my anger felt justified in the moment.

"I swear it wasn't me," May held up both hands, pleading innocent.

Leaf similarly shrugged, looking just as taken aback by the boy's presence. Dawn slid down in her chair, trying to make herself smaller.

"That…might be my fault," she admitted from halfway under the table.

At this rate, I'd have to pay to replace the table we sat at because my grip on the edge was most certainly leaving well-defined dents in the aluminum. "Dawn, you didn't-!" I warned.

"Not on purpose!" Dawn defended, albeit guiltily. "All I did was ask Paul whether Ash was planning on being here tonight! But he told me no! I didn't think he'd pass it on, its Paul we're talking about!"

My face twisted into a snarl. Somehow, I wouldn't be surprised if he did this on purpose. Because of course Paul would continue stripping away any comfort or control I had about this situation. He certainly didn't hold the honesty last time I'd seen him! Why would he keep his mouth shut this time!?

My stomach lurched. Even in my anger, I still felt bad for thinking it.

"Perfect, this night just keeps getting better," I buried my face in my hands, dragging my fingers down my skin in exhaustion.

May leaned over the railing, trying to get a better look through the smokescreen. "Well, I think it's only the three of them. It could be worse," she shrugged.

I needed to not be here. I needed to escape before this inevitable interaction became yet another thing spiraling out of my control. But more than anything else in the moment-

"I need a drink." I pushed myself away from the table. If I didn't walk away now, I was gonna throw myself off this balcony to get away.

"Wait, what!? Are you that wound up!?" May yelled after me, the implication of my words turning her voice shrill.

It hit me a little late that she thought I was being serious. "Relax, they stamped us for a reason," I reminded her, holding up the back of my hand to show off the black ink. "I'm gonna get water or something. Be right back."

All I wanted was to get out of here, but it felt like I was sprinting down a kilometer-long subway tunnel and the whistle of a train was growing closer. Maybe it was naïve to think I could outrun the train. But if only for the time it took me to make it down a flight of stairs and fight my way through drunks, dancers, and the dark, at least I was doing something. Moving farther away from the impending wreck was better than tying myself to the tracks and accepting defeat.

I slipped back into the corridor and down the stairs. Halfway down to earth, three clueless victims wandered onto my tracks. Helpless roadkill in the way of my course.

"Hey firecracker!" Gary greeted cheerily.

"So, you guys are here too," I glared through low lights. "How'd you swing that? Bribe the bouncer or something?"

Gary sputtered and scoffed. "What, you think we need to rely on something as petty as bribery to gain entry?"

Seconds ticked by awkwardly.

"…Yes, that's why I suggested it," I deadpanned.

For the first time in forever, Gary Oak had no comeback.

"Oh look!" He pointed behind me as if he could see up to the second floor. "My wonderful girlfriend who I am so very fond of! Excuse me so that I may go converse with her and not be trapped in this conversation any longer!"

Gary almost tripped running up the stairs, abandoning the others behind him.

"Uh… same," Drew said, and continued past me at a much more normal pace.

Down to one. The length of two steps had never felt more like miles apart. It should have been easy to slip into the same old comfort; laugh off the comical exit of our mutual friends, maybe even take jabs at one another, try to lighten the mood as best we could. But standing in that stairwell, my best friend looked no different than any other burning hurdle I had to overcome tonight. My guard was up like a ring of fire. Trying to cross through it would only leave me burned.

"Hey! So, how are you?" Ash greeted, friendly as ever. As if nothing were wrong.

"Managing," I bit out, the single word brutal in nature.

This wasn't the way things were supposed to be. Everything and everyone I'd ever trusted had been tinted grey. It was all wrong and yet-

Was it really any different? My palms had always been more prone to blood and impact than gentle touch. Even my music was slam and stomp, just rage-fueled release. Though Ash played the same instrument, he had an energy to the way he drummed that I could never match. A joy I could never fully capture.

An ideal I could never quite reach.

"You should go sit with the others. I … need a minute," I admitted. Bloodthirst was metallic on my tongue, but I did not need another helping of guilt tonight. One friendship ruined because of my starving need to inflict damage was enough, thank you.

"Okay."

Relief was a brief respite from my wallowing. I'd really thought that'd be the end of it, then and there. Ash took one step forward, him on the step below me and I above him; yet now we stood at almost the same height. All these years later and I still always asked myself…when did he get so tall? I knew it had probably been a long time but I almost never noticed. Even after he'd surpassed my height, it always felt like we still saw eye to eye. It didn't ever feel like he was looking down on me. Maybe I only ever noticed it whenever I was feeling small.

Hey," his hand was on my shoulder. "Sorry I didn't tell you I was coming. I just… wanted to be here for you."

Is that all? What the hell is wrong with you? But I pushed the insult down. Locked the door. Padded the cell.

My heart still simmered; a slower burn than the grease fire from moments ago.

"What's with you?" I kept my eyes lowered, resisting the urge to yank myself free from his grasp. "I'm fine, I don't need any-"

"I know," he said simply. And smiled.

Every nerve told me to move, to get a safe distance away, to keep my shields up. But the warm thrumming in my chest longed for the contact. From the place his hand made contact and gradually spreading outwards, all the muscles in my chest were unwinding. The fake smoke might as well have been the purest oxygen. The inferno burning inside me shrunk down to a candles flame. In the darkness, I softly glowed.

I knew I didn't deserve it.

His hand fell away. But after he was gone, both of us traveling in different directions, I felt the comforting presence of someone beside me even as I walked alone. Nothing had changed about my situation. Ash's presence had just given me the little peace of mind I hadn't known I'd needed, to handle this a little while longer.

I really didn't want to venture down into that mess of people but I really was thirsty. And I wasn't about to ask one of those poor waitresses to make the trip when their night was already bombarded with obnoxious alcoholics. Breaching the mass and doing my best to wade through it, the crowd of white was nauseatingly intense. It was like being stuck inside a washing machine set on spin-cycle and everything was soaked in bleach.

"Hey! Watch it!" I called out as yet another dancer crashed into me, but went unheard under the blaring music. I looked up towards the stage. Loudred, four of them in total were blasting out the music tracks the DJ was spinning from off to the side of the main stage.

Of course, I thought. Louder than any sound system on the market.

Almost like my noticing them had been what set it off, everything stopped like a switch being flipped. The silence was twice as deafening when the Pokémon all of a sudden closed their mouths. The club-goers slowed in confusion, letting out a collective groan that their fun had been put on pause. I almost took the opportunity to push my way to the other side of the disgruntled crowd and venture towards my original destination.

But while everyone else in the mosh-pit heckled and sulked, looking around for explanation, I was looking at the stage. And what I saw gave me pause.

The loudspeaker Pokémon were still standing in a row below the distressed-wooden platform. It was eerie, the way they stood perfectly still where before they'd been so full of energy and music. I tried peering over the crowd. The DJ table was empty now, the Pokémon crouched low and looking a little lost; a little impatient.

Like they were waiting for something.

Light flooded the stage through the darkness. Where before it was barely visible, now the path to the stage was clear. The smoke that had once obscured all my surroundings was moving; it drifted through the air like it had a mind of its own; parting as though the light were a blade that had pierced it. The tendrils twisted and conjugated together, a ball of cloudy air forming above the entranced crowd below.

A tactic to draw attention away from the real magic trick.

Upon realizing that, my gaze snapped back towards the stage. Hearthome shifted to a nostalgic, Cerulean city venue.

A star-shaped silhouette stood center-stage. Though its body was framed by light, casting the rest of its form into shadow, a red luminescence shone from its center. A glowing ember through the darkness.

Starmie?

My neck strained as I leaned back, focusing hard until I finally recognized the red-blue shimmer of psychic energy encircling the ball of smoke. Just then, it began shimmering in a different way, the light moved like a reflection on a lake. The smoke was being engulfed by a thin sheen of water.

A giant bubble was floating in the middle of Monster House.

The silhouettes on stage tripled. The smoke bubble was splitting itself apart, over and over again, until what once had been a giant balloon of colorful mist multiplied into thousands of tiny, rainbow-shining spheres. Smoke bubbles rained down and floated up, the crowd of glowing dancers enraptured like awestruck toddlers. They reached up clumsy hands to touch the delicate creations, the bubbles popping on their fingertips, the glittery mist escaping like hand-held fireworks.

One Loudred opened its mouth.

(Lone Digger by Caravan Palace)

The music was faint at first. It sounded…old. It was all brass and wind, hardly any beat; like something that would be playing as an instrumental in some old, silent, black and white movie.

One by one, the Pokémon opened their mouths and the music gradually grew louder. It was stomach-turning how familiar it began to sound. Behind the old-fashioned swing-synthesis emerged something new. A record skipping, a digital riff, a beat of tech that didn't quite belong in the era it was trying to derive itself from.

The beat dropped.

Emerging from the darkness, the stage-lights redirecting to shine down three spotlights, were the Sensational Sisters themselves. Framing themselves around their helpers at the edge of the stage.

Starmie. Spinning happily as his psychic power weaved and wafted through black-lit clouds.

Golduck. His bubblebeam stunning as always. Fluorescent, kaleidoscopic globes falling down like party balloons.

Dewgong. His beams of aurora-colored light frosting the air with mist.

My sisters Pokémon were all in top shape. I was…relieved, but oddly in a way that still made me feel like I was being strangled. Without me there at home to look after all the gym Pokémon, somehow, they still looked healthy, lively even. It had been easier to worry about my own well-being than that of those I left behind. It was almost nice to see them again.

No time could be wasted on that though. The human dancers and Pokémon companions moved in and out of the beat in perfect synchronicity.

Dewgong released a shimmering Aqua-Tail, spraying water around the stage. I immediately thought that it had to have been a mistake; they'd slip and fall for sure. However, the cerulean and scarlet psychic powers of Starmie and Golduck intermingled. The fresh water rose like drops of rain in reverse. Streams and droplets of the translucent fluid weaved into shapes and patterns before finally settling on three column-like waterfalls, suspended in the air.

The geysers fell away like curtains being dropped. And where once, there had been three girls on stage, now there were six.

My jaw dropped open. They were water…clones? Perfect replicas of my elder sisters, mobile glass sculptures performing the same routine along with their human counterparts. It was, begrudging though it may be to admit, incredibly impressive. Starmie and Golduck were holding the collected water in perfect mirror images of my sisters' forms, moving them in sync with the routine.

The Sensational Sisters danced with their own reflections while the crowd erupted at their feet.

I refused to acknowledge the cold twinge deep in my abdomen. I focused instead on the flame in my chest. A welcomed distraction, even as frustrating as it was to watch. Though it wasn't envy or even insecurity that stoked the burning lantern in my heart back into a bonfire.

I knew this song. I knew this dance. Because it had once been mine.

It had been driven into my bones like nails for the audition to attend HPA. I'd listened to that song a thousand times. I could recite the lyrics in my sleep. And now it was back to haunt me. My sisters picking this song, this routine to perform tonight was nothing less than their usual passive aggressive ploy. They were forcing me to remember, forcing me to watch while they outperformed the song I'd bled for to come to this school. They wanted to rub in my face how much better they were than me, how dull my efforts were in comparison.

This was a reminder.

"Those little-!" my growled through the enamored cheers surrounding me. I could barely hear my own voice over their cheers.

All I wanted to do was scream. But what would be the point when it would only get lost and confused with all the excitement?

"Hey!" A voice cut through the mess. "There you are! Misty!"

The sound of my name hit me like blunt force trauma. My stomach dropped to the center of the earth. Whatever I'd just been about to say or do that had any chance of being acted on further was snuffed out by an overpowering sense of dread.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me, is the whole city here tonight or what?

I turned slowly. Green eyes and auburn hair shouldered their way towards me.

"Thought I might find you here!" Rudy playfully smirked, yelling over the crowd.

Of all the many clubs in this ginormous city, why was he HERE!?

So, I asked. "Rudy…what are you doing here?"

"WHAT?" he exclaimed, the crowd growing rowdier as they begged for an encore.

Fed up with all the noise and shameless adoration of my tormentors, I roughly grabbed his arm and dragged him away. Down a narrow hallway off to the side of the bar, even more drunk twenty-somethings loitered outside a pair of gritty bathroom doors.

"Get lost," I snipped. Normally a fifteen-year-old girl wouldn't likely be very intimidating to anyone older, but one look from me was hazardous enough that they didn't fight back. They stumbled away, leaving the hallway empty.

I turned my attention back towards Rudy but he was looking elsewhere. Down at my hand, still clutching at his sleeve. Our eyes finally met when he looked at down at me… and smiled…

I let go of him and put the width of the hallway between us.

"Rudy…what are you doing here?" I repeated myself, my voice low but not quite yet a growl.

"It's good to see you," he told me, sincerely, not picking up the atmosphere in the slightest. "I know we haven't really had a chance to connect since the Stage Step, what with your famous sisters dropping in and all. You didn't respond to any of my texts, I was getting worried."

I ignored any feeling of guilt from hearing that.

"That doesn't answer my question," I countered, almost an accusation.

"I wanted to see you," he answered plainly, obliviously. "So, I came to support you tonight. Just like how you're supporting your sisters."

Somewhere, the sound of glass breaking was echoed by the cheers of drunk idiots.

"Excuse me?" I crossed my arms tight across my body. His words literally having made me feel sick to my stomach. Forget walking on eggshells, he was walking on land-mines.

"Oh right, shouldn't we get back out there? Now that their set is done, are they gonna be looking for you? Should I introduce myself, or should I let you handle that?" he asked question after question, taking several steps back towards the dance-floor.

I didn't move.

"Why would I do that?" I asked defensively. He finally noticed that I wasn't moving to follow him.

"Oh, are they not done yet?" Rudy came up with his own answer, jumping to conclusions left and right. "Guess they might have an encore; the crowd was kind of demanding. Their act was pretty amazing! We could go dance while we wait for them! Now that your leg's all better, plus we never got a chance to back at the-"

"Rudy. Stop."

He was in the dark. But was he really blind to everything going on in front of him? Or was he just pretending, like all those selfish people out there in the pit of azure fire?

"Listen. I don't know what you think is going on here, but you are WAY off base. I'm not here to support anyone, I'm not here to have fun, and I'm certainly not here to goof off with you like all those people out there!" I gestured back the way we came, my voice edging closer to desperate in my attempt to get through to him.

Against all odds, it seemed like he finally heard me.

"I'm sorry…? I'm confused. Why else would you be here tonight?" he asked me, clueless.

I flared with outrage, "You think I'm here by choice? Were you…even paying attention, two weeks ago when my sisters barged onto our campus!? Why do you think I've been radio silent for weeks!? Newsflash, it wasn't because of some heartfelt family reunion!"

"I…" he looked genuinely taken aback. "Misty, I'm sorry. I didn't know. You never said anything about your family before so, I just assumed things were cool."

I balked. "How could you possibly have come to that conclusion!? HPA is like a breeding ground of bad rumors right now, have you not heard any of them!?

"I would never take any rumor as fact without your side of the story first. Look, I know things got heated between you guys but…I just figured you all had worked it out. The Sensational Sisters are advertising like crazy, aren't you going on tour with them?"

His kind words flew right over my head and straight into the fire.

"Of ALL the things you chose to ignore, THAT'S the one thing you bought into!? That my sisters are some generous, all-forgiving saints that want to whisk me away on tour for a year!?" My voice raised itself high enough to make up for the fact he was taller than me. For a moment, it felt like I was looking down at him.

"Well…" he trailed off, suddenly unsure. "Okay, I mean, you did lie to them for almost a year so I guess not…"

My frenzied heart threw itself against its cage. I could practically feel my ribs splintering from the impact.

"You're on their side?" I asked, already resigned.

Rudy threw up his hands in frustration. "Hey, I'm not on anyone's side here! Why are you getting mad at me? I came here to support you, not be your punching bag."

Was I shaking? Was that normal? Hopefully I was about to spontaneously combust so this conversation could be over already.

It wasn't like it didn't hurt. But this wasn't a problem I could hash out here. Not right now.

"I…can't. I can't! This is too much," my brain was blue-screening. I was already shutting down.

He reached out to me desperately, confusion and distress clear in every muscle on his face.

"Misty, talk to me! I don't understand why you're so upset. Your sisters are inviting you on a world-wide tour. Any student in our major would kill for what your being offered! And your acting like it's some sort of punishment."

It is to me! The thought came so automatically. It seemed like such an obvious answer. But not to him. Not to the boy who'd gone out of his way to be nice to me, to check up on me when I was hurt, who'd spent so much time trying to get to know me. All those efforts were now stripped away, revealing the raw, disappointing reality that all that time somehow never got him any closer to knowing me; to understanding me. My friendship with Rudy had always been so easy and uncomplicated. But now, just like all things did when my sisters got involved, it was spiraling directly towards the ground. The illusion of our friendship was shattering in slow motion.

It felt like I was talking to a total stranger.

"And you're making an awful lot of assumptions based on absolutely nothing," I told him plainly.

He didn't even look hurt. Just confused and rightfully frustrated.

"Rudy… I don't have time to deal with you right now." My honesty struck like lightning, quick and unforgiving. I moved to walk past him.

"Misty, wait I-" he tried grabbing me again; tried pulling me back. I smacked his hand away harshly.

"Don't touch me," I threatened. I didn't even look back at him.

"Just…go."

He didn't follow me back into the pit.

I didn't get very far before a shrill, familiar voice drew my attention back towards the stage, now cleaned of any residual water from their show.

"Thank you, Monster House!" Daisy thanked the crowd as they cheered in response. "We are, like, totally stoked to be here tonight! So stoked, that aside from our performance, we brought a little surprise for all of you here!"

My organs were all made of lead. I didn't have the energy left to deal with this. I came, I saw, I fulfilled my dysfunctional family's wishes. Now I was free to throw myself into the closest hole I could find and never come out. Whatever else they had in store, it had nothing to do with me. I started elbowing my way back through the frenzied crowd towards the stairs, intent on telling my friends I was ready to go home.

"Now," Lily stole the microphone from my eldest sisters' hand, "the three of us know the reason you fine people came out tonight was to BURN UP this dance floor! So, we figured you'd need some sick beats to get that fire started!"

Violet's softer tone followed her. "What do you say folks? You feeling like some live music tonight!?"

In response to the people's cheers, Daisy rounded out the crowd-calling. "Putting the 'Monster' back in Monster House, please give a wild, wonderful welcome to the FOURTH sensational sister!"

Spotlights cut through the hazy glow of black-light. The crowd that had once been suffocating me backed away from the burning halo.

Fire trapped me on all sides.

"Give it up for our little sister, and her hard-rocking BAND!" Daisy's excited announcement sounded like a call to battle.

Another light shone straight up, the patrons on the upper level groaning at the intensity of the light blinding them. The table near the edge of the railing was crowded by my confused band-mates, squinting through the light into the crowd below them.

As though we'd all been simultaneously petrified, no one dared make a move.

"Well? We're waiting!" Lily goaded from her pedestal.

The crowd slowly responded to my sisters prompting, the sound of applause growing louder and stronger around me.

Something wasn't right. I felt it deeply. But in the same way I couldn't stop the crowd from cheering, I couldn't make myself turn away. Against all my better judgement telling me to ignore it, get out of there, abandon the spotlight and just walk away; I found my feet moving towards my fiery demise like a Venomoth to a flame.

I saw the bait and took it anyway.

An arm latched onto me as I reached the first step onto the stage, my eyes never leaving my sisters challenging glare.

"Misty!"

I spared a glance to meet Dawn's eyes, her hand clamped around my shoulder. How had they even gotten down from the second floor so quickly?

"What is even happening anymore?" she exclaimed over the crowd's enthusiasm. "Since when are we going on tonight!?"

May cut in for me. "Since, now apparently! We can't back down after that!?" she argued, glaring towards the stage with animosity that rivaled my own.

"Misty, what do we do?" Leaf asked, looking torn.

There was only one thing to do. We'd been backed into a corner and there was only one way out. And as much as I would have loved to storm out and leave the Sensational Sisters hanging on an empty promise, there was no way I could do it without looking like a petulant child. They knew I would rise to the challenge. I had to. Anything less would mean defeat. And I'd already promised myself that I couldn't lose to them. Not this time.

"Let's go."

The crowd cheered louder as we filed onto the stage, gawking like spectators as the main act egged them on. Pink hair and a venomous smile slid away from the elder siblings and threw me a suspiciously satisfied look over her shoulder.

"What is-" I began to ask.

"You wanted to prove yourself, didn't you? Now's your chance," Lily interrupted.

"This isn't what we decided," I protested.

She rolled her eyes. "Just treat it like a dress rehearsal. Don't you think we deserve a little sneak preview…after all you put us through?"

Ah. That made more sense. Even with all this fanfare, what they really wanted was to teach me a lesson.

But they were the ones who needed to learn.

Instruments were wheeled onto the stage, prepared beforehand and seamlessly hooked up to the electronic sound system, the Loudred from before nowhere to be seen. My friends' voices faded in and out from the background, probably thinking up a set on the fly. I watched my sisters backs as they filed offstage. Not even the heat of the stage lights shining down on us warmed the chill from my spine.

This was a test. And the sinking feeling in my stomach had me thinking it was probably rigged to fail. I just wasn't sure how.

I turned my gaze upwards; past the lights shining through the black. I couldn't make out the individual faces of the rest of our friends from this distance to the edge of the balcony. I had to settle for the knowledge that somewhere up there, Ash was watching us too. The memory of his comfort but a ghost now.

"Mist," his nickname struck me, but it hadn't come from his lips. I tuned back into my band-mate's conversation,

"We're ready. Think you can play Fireproof?"

How ironic, I thought idly.

"Yeah…yeah I can do that." My body moved without much input from my brain. It sat itself down behind a steel drum kit, picking up drumsticks. I could barely feel the polished wood against my skin.

"Um, hi everyone!" Dawn was quick to adapt, any nerves she may have had about an unprepared performance melting away. "We're Changing Grace! And it's great to be here tonight!"

May practically vibrated behind her keyboard, itching to mash the keys into a harmonious frenzy. Leaf stood stock-still; the unfamiliar electric guitar held expertly yet stiffly in her arms. Dawn unhooked the microphone from the stand, her confident aura a welcome respite amidst her worried band-mates.

"Are you ready!?" she exclaimed, her showmanship infecting the entire club.

The crowd answered her in spades.

I raised the sticks above my head. One, two, three strikes.

I surrendered myself.

(Fireproof by Against the Current)

The beating of the drums pumped life back into my bloodstream. Every reservation about tonight exploding out in a wild rhythm that no one could contain. Our song about being stronger than lies, than betrayal, than fire itself.

The crowd ate it up. I witnessed their support and believed the lyrics Dawn belted out to the chaotic rhythm of their movements. They erupted in applause when the song finally ended, and I couldn't help feeling smug. Whatever my sisters had planned tonight, it hadn't worked! Somehow, we'd overcome it! The crowd had been as happy to watch us as they had been the Sensation Sisters. Together we'd survived the night.

"On your marks…"

A voice carried itself around the club, booming over the sound of the crowd easily. But it hadn't come from Dawn's microphone. Some other kind of announcer was plugged into the main speaker?

"Get set…"

A loud pop fired off. Like someone had lit off a firework indoors. My head jerked up in the direction of the sound. It was hard to see past the stage lights, but floating down from the ceiling was some kind of…dust? I stood up from my seat behind the drum set and held out my hand. The residue drifted down like fresh snow, but when it landed in my outstretched palm it was blue. The chalky substance smeared on my skin when I rubbed it between my fingers.

"What the-?" I muttered to myself.

The surround-sound voice returned.

"GO!"

The crowd, once so joyfully placated by our performance, released a manic cheer. Dawn turned back to look at me, confusion plain across her face as well. From behind her, I registered too late something sailing through the darkness towards the stage.

Before I could get out a word, a large, wet splat sounded as the projectile impacted with Dawn's shoulder. A bright burst of orange dripped down her bare forearm and stained her shirt neon.

The next few seconds were horrific.

All I saw were projectiles being hurled through the crowd. They sailed through the low-lit venue onto the stage and in every other direction, hitting everything in sight. Splatters of paint, puffs of colored chalk dust, streamers of varying colors sailed through the air and it was over too quickly to have taken any cover. All we could do was stand there for the mere seconds that it lasted, caught in the crossfire while the audience went to battle.

When it ended, the stage looked like a live war zone.

The crowd of dancers laughed and rejoiced; their once-white outfits now paint-splattered in every hue under the sun. They continued on like that oblivious to the unwitting victims of their actions. I looked down at the outfit once meant for the upcoming concert, now irreparably ruined by the muddy mixing of pink and yellow acrylic and blue chalk dust.

The other girls, having been much closer to the front of the stage, looked far worse.

"What is this?" Leaf looked down at herself, dripping red and blue. Her shoulders trembled as she peeled the guitar strap off her paint-soaked shoulder.

"What the actual HELL!?" May exclaimed, shaking off drips of purple paint from her hair to no avail.

Dawn was a mirror of my own reaction. Frozen still, paralyzed as the inferno smoldered around us.

A moment ago, I had been standing on solid ground. Now that ground had been split by a deep crevice, and I was teetering on an edge with nothing but magma-hot flames below me.

I wanted to jump off this stage and punch every Arceus-damn idiot who'd so much as raised their arm in our direction. How dare they-!

"Thank you, Monster House!" that impulse was interrupted of course, by the reappearance of Daisy from stage left, followed by Lily and Violet; not a speck of paint marring their pristine outfits. The eldest walked out as though now she were asking for an encore from the crowd instead of the other way around. "We are all so grateful to be included in your yearly midnight PAINT FESTIVAL! I'm sure it's a night that none of us will ever soon forget," the gratitude in her voice was almost genuine.

"Isn't that right, girls?" Lily threw back with a whisper, eyes landing gleefully on me.

For a moment everything turned white. My blood ignited like gasoline. Framed by the spotlights, blinded by indignation, fury and loathing, I so badly wanted to let go of all my discipline. I wasn't surprised, but I was livid. I knew this whole night had to have been some kind of trap. They were just as predictable as they were cruel. I would have tackled that smug look right off this stage.

But my heart wasn't where it should have been.

There was no furious beat punching a hole in my chest. It wasn't in my throat or sunk down to my stomach. I looked around the stage, as though searching for the organ that usually pumped angry adrenaline through my veins. Like it was something I could have dropped, like my house key or cell phone. I did not find the reason for the absent drum beat, telling me I was alive. Instead I found the reason it had stopped.

Dawn's arms around Leaf, trying to comfort her. May attempting to cross the stage only to slip and slide on the slick of wet paint. Leaf trying to hold it together, staring blankly ahead into space as though seeing something very far away.

And in the middle of it all, my sisters stood proud in front of their adoring fans. Getting exactly what they wanted.

This…was…agony. Tied up in a colorful bow.

My thoughts played back like a scratched record. Angry, desperate, demanding as always. Take it away, take it back, take it back, go back, please go back!

Something broke.

The raging inferno, was doused by a frozen, hollow wave.

The comforting candle flame, snuffed out by an icy wind.

And then…I wasn't angry anymore.

I wasn't anything at all.

Ash

Everyone was in my way.

I tore my way forward, plowing through a sea of bodies, their limbs flailing like sentient paint brushes. The remains of their paint battle left stains across my clothes, but I couldn't care less.

I had to catch up. I couldn't let my sight wander.

The paint-splattered stage was a crossroads. I sprinted along its perimeter until I found the emergency exit, my eyes locking onto the glowing red sign. My forearm collided with the metal release bar, my whole body practically falling out of the building as I burst outside, following a quickly-cooling trail under threatening skies.

A flash of orange-red disappeared like lightning. Thunder followed close behind, as did I.

How many corners did I turn only to watch the same flicker slip away? I'd lost count shortly. The soles of my sneakers pounded pavement, chasing the spark. Finally, the maze of alleyways connected to a long stretch sandwiched between two tall, brick buildings. I must have sprinted several streets away if I had to guess, but the path I'd followed blindly had finally offered her nowhere to hide just as the first raindrops began to fall.

"MISTY!" The alley echoed my cry all around us.

Finally, the flame stopped running.

She stood there, bright colors running down her clothes, with her back to me. I couldn't even speak past the breath in my lungs, desperately trying to catch itself.

"Go. Away." She finally said. Unmoving. Unfeeling. Slow and controlled.

I forced air into my lungs too fast. But I needed to say something back. "Please…just wait a-" I tried saying past the absence of air.

"I said…" she interrupted me. "Go away."

"Misty…" I stepped forward.

"Just LEAVE!" she screamed forward, refusing to face me. "Go away! Just go away."

But I couldn't. And even if she denied it, I think she knew I couldn't do as she asked either. If she couldn't look me in the eyes, then she wasn't telling me the truth.

"No," I refused her calmly, doing my best to keep my voice even. The shake of my own anger couldn't possibly compare to how she must have been feeling right now. I couldn't focus on myself right now. "You're not okay. None of this is okay! And I can't just leave you alone in an alley, after midnight, in the middle of the city!"

"Stop it," her voice was a wisp I almost didn't catch.

"So, if you wanna be pissed at me, then fine! But I'm not going to leave you," I promised her.

Finally, she moved. Her pain-splattered hands gripped the side of her head like she wanted to rip her own head open. As if she could claw my promise from her very ears.

"Why won't anyone LISTEN TO ME!?" her words bounced off the walls like a bomb going off.

Misty threw herself sideways, her hands releasing bunches of red hair and fists clenching. She rushed towards the closest wall like she was a magnet being pulled by it. She raised her fist high, aiming for the rust-colored brick.

I caught her wrist from behind, her knuckles only a few inches away from the stone.

"Misty, stop!" I pleaded, locking my hold in place to keep her fist from colliding with the wall.

She thrashed like a caged Pokémon, trying to rip her forearm out of my grip. "Let go of me!"

She wouldn't turn around. She wouldn't look at me. She just kept struggling with her arm almost twisted around her back, like she didn't even care if she dislocated it by mistake as long as it got her free. I gripped her other arm, trying to pin them to her sides so she wouldn't hurt herself.

"I'm not gonna stand here and watch you break your wrist! I get it, your upset but-"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Misty shouted deliriously, her demands bordering on frantic.

I tried to be gentle. Tried to infuse as much of my intentions into my tone as possible. Please don't hurt yourself. That's all I wanted her to know. "Please, just-"

Her shriek overpowered the crack of the thunder overhead. For a second I was struck with the fear that she was wounded, or that her recently healed injury had come back to haunt her, or worse still that I was the one hurting her. Even all the memories I had of Misty pushing through every injury she'd ever received while never shedding a tear didn't quell the initial assumption that she was in bodily pain.

But the sound that had come out of her was far too hopeless; too heartbroken to be anything physical. The raw sorrow remained long after her breath had abandoned her.

She collapsed, all the fight and mania inside of her fading along with the echoes of her scream. I caught her and we both hit the ground hard, my knees impacting with the concrete was followed by sharp pain. The fire spreading in my legs was practically numb as Misty's entire body began to tremble, the intensity of it entirely new in my arms.

Misty openly wept with the storm.

Her voice was barely audible, squished between her balled up fists like she was trying to shove it back down her throat. But muffled as it was, I still heard her between her sobs and gasps for air.

"They hurt my friends," was all she said.

No pain I'd ever experienced came close to hearing those sad, ruined words.

"I know," I told her. It was all I could think to say.

"How could they do that? Who does that?" she asked, or more like begged, knowing that there was no answer I could give her.

"I'm sorry, Mist. I'm so sorry." It was all I could do to try and console. There were no words that would make this okay.

She finally let herself be guided; her posture of rock crumbling like clay as her head pressed solidly to my collarbone. I held my dearest friend as paint ran down our skins with the rain. Her fingers clung to my denim sleeves like lifelines. Slowly, agonizingly, finally she let her heart bleed open.

I gathered her up and held all her fracturing pieces in my arms as she came apart, determined not to lose a single one. I'd hold them here for as long as she needed. Later, I'd carry them home for her. And in the morning, I'd keep them safe until she asked for them. And I knew she would. She would put them back together when she was ready.

Because Misty was indomitable. Even if she couldn't remember that right now, underneath the fresh burns and vulnerable sorrow, I'd be here to remind her once the storm passed.

A/N: So, this is the part where I gush about my own writing like a total loser. Skip to the last paragraph for update details to spare yourself some cringe.

Dawn's POV was where I was trapped for the longest time. No matter how many times I sat down to write, her voice wouldn't come to me. I knew what I wanted to write, but I wasn't sure how to put it into her words. And in the end, her part of the chapter ironically ended up as my favorite. She knows things aren't okay, but she's still trying, and in the end, she realizes that even if her contributions to helping her friends are small, they make a difference. And it was nice to write her and Paul as being confidants in this stressful time. I hoped to illustrate a little bit of 'what if' into their current friendship. She's clearly helping Paul more than she knows. And Paul, while trying to hold things together, is slipping. I mentioned before that he needs to open up a little at a time. Consider this the first of many instances of Paul finally coming to trust his friends.

Misty's POV was hard to write in a different way. She's actually my favorite character from the anime aside from Paul, so I felt bad making her suffer so much. But all three of her interactions had to happen this chapter, even though it made her POV longer, because all three interactions broke her down to her basest defense mechanisms before inevitably abandoning her in the conclusion. With Stella she was cold, mean and biting. With Ash she was distant, closed-off and defensive. And with Rudy she was painfully honest, explosively angry, and stubborn in her perspective, unwilling to see the other side of the argument. These are Misty's primary tools during confrontation, and none of them help her in the end. Because these are the tools she uses to defend herself. They don't end up helping her much in defending her friends.

Ash's POV was designed to be the shortest one. I wanted everything to be fast-paced and heavy with emotions. Not a lot of dialogue, just a lot of feeling; a lot of heartbreak. I also wanted to illustrate the key difference between Ash and Rudy both as people in Misty's life. Rudy doesn't really stop to think about what Misty wants or needs from him, and just makes a lot of assumptions. Ash doesn't assume anything; he just wants to be there for her in whatever way she needs. When Misty told Rudy to go, he doesn't follow her, he leaves because he feels unwanted. When Misty asked Ash to leave the first time, he does to respect her boundaries. He only doesn't the second time because it would leave Misty in a potentially dangerous situation. He even tells her she can be mad at him; she can hurt and kick and scream at him all she wants, but no matter what she does to him, he won't abandon her to be in danger. And I think that's an important distinction, which is why I had her ask him to leave her alone twice in one chapter. Ash knows the difference between respecting Misty's wishes, and stepping in when she won't admit she needs help. I hope I was able to communicate some of these intentions without having to go in depth like this.

Okay, I'm gonna make this short but expand upon it on my profile, so go there for the full version. I don't know when I'm going to update again because right now, I'm trying to get my act together so I can go back to school in 2020. I also work, so right now my energy will be focused on drawing and work. I will be writing once a week as a sort of "break" from my other obligations, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you to see the next chapter before next year. Don't be sad though readers, I have big plans for this story. And I hope that part of these plans can be implemented before my life becomes crazy again if I manage to go back to school next year. Just know that I'm not giving up, and as long as there's someone out there who wants to see how the story ends, then I'll write the ending! Simple as that! Okay, hope this was worth the long wait. I love you all very much! And as always, stay lovely readers!