Hello! I am back after a million years! I haven't uploaded in so long, haha.

Warning: This was rushed. I'm sorry for not updating in like, forever, and when I finally whip out a new chapter, you get a rushed disaster, but I swear, I'll edit it again if I can find the time.

ALSO, MY OLDER READERS, YOU MIGHT WANT TO REREAD EVERYTHING BECAUSE I'VE CHANGED THE STORY SIGNIFICANTLY AND THE FOLLOWING CHAPTERS MAY CONFUSE YOU IF YOU DON'T. SORRY FOR THE HASSLE.

So maybe the story is worse now, but I'm happier with where I'm taking it. I realised the characters were kinda flat, so I wanted to add some conflict (ish), and hence I edited the earlier chapters!

Hope you guys like this!

Edit (1 August 2019) — minor fixes.

Her lips had tasted like cotton candy.

"Paul!"

Blue, he thought, half-amused as he glanced up from his phone. He didn't actually expect her to take his words to heart (and though he would never dare admit it, Paul was quite pleased).

Her sandals clicked against the concrete.

"How do I look?" she breathed, flushed cheeks and cobalt eyes with scattered mosaics of golden-orange light from the hanging lanterns.

"Like snow in summer," he said, and Dawn pouted a little.

"Is that your indirect way of saying I look odd?"

He never corrected her.

"Too blue." He might have smiled, if one paid close enough attention to the quirk of his lips, the fleeting mellowing of his onyx eyes. His heartbeat murmured softly into his lips, "Beautiful."

She never heard him, too worried that maybe she was too blue. For the better, he thought. Compliments scarcely escaped his lips, and he didn't want her fussing over it.

"I knew it," she exclaimed, tucking a navy tendril behind her ear. "I should've worn pink or something."

"You worry too much, Troublesome."

"But you just said I was too—"

"I never said I disliked it, though," he intercepted, standing up from the bench and nodding towards the takoyaki stand. "Hungry?"

"You know I'm on a diet, Paul," she warned drily. "Don't tempt me."

"A diet of pizza, crisps and sweets? Wow," he drawled, "takoyaki's going to ruin all your efforts and be the death of you."

"You know," she replied, cheeks pinked, "I think I almost preferred you better when you were quiet."

"Almost?"

"Uh, so," she spluttered, "how much are the takoyaki?" She spun swiftly on her heel (or as swiftly as one could in a hefty kimono). With her back turned to Paul, the violet-haired boy would almost be unable to discern her emotions if not for the glaring crimson hue of her ears. A satisfactory smirk creeped onto his lips.

She approached the stand, Paul close behind, and when she heard the rustling of fabric and the cluttering of coins as Paul searched his pockets for change, she whipped around and gripped his hand.

"Troublesome, what are you—"

"Don't worry!" Dawn exclaimed, hushing Paul's retaliation to her gesture. She looked up at him, cobalt globes glistening with determination. "My treat."

He didn't argue; if he had tried, her persistence would only prove victorious in the end, and he didn't want to waste time fighting over something so pointless. So he merely brushed her hand off and resigned to folding his arms and not putting his hands in his pockets to reassure her.

The magnitude of her smile, satisfied and creeping slowly onto coral-stained lips, was overwhelming as she held her chin high and projected her chest, hands on hips as she took majestic strides to the stand.

She was far too proud over such a menial victory (if he could even classify it as such).

But, he thought, eyes not-so-much-glaring as she fumbled for change in her drawstring pouch, it was such a Dawn-like quality that he didn't almost scorn himself for liking it.

Ten.

"Dawn," Paul called, squeezing her hand as they battled through the crowd to secure a better view of the display.

Nine.

"Yeah?" She turned around, batted her eyes of innocent cobalt.

Eight.

He grabbed her by the arm, pulled her close.

Seven.

She stumbled forward, stumbled closer. She emanated a soft fragrance of vanilla and some sort of flower he couldn't identify even if he tried (but he liked it).

Six.

Maybe it was the moment, the excitement that made him so reckless, so daring. The rumbling of an anticipating audience, how he could see the night reflected in her eyes. How onyx and cobalt struck together, how sparks flew, more exciting than fireworks, exploding in his chest.

Five.

He kissed her.

Four.

Her lips tasted like cotton candy (his head was pounding and fuck, he was almost light-headed but he could have sworn that in that instant, Dawn might have just kissed him back).

Three.

He pulled away.

Two.

"The fireworks haven't even started yet," Dawn said, soft and low, her cheeks pink, eyes astray. He didn't know what she was implying (she would tell him later, much later, that in the shoujo mangas she read, the kisses normally took place as the fireworks started; Paul argued that coming all that way only to miss the main event over a kiss would be stupidly redundant).

One.

She looked back at the sky, the marvel in her gaze and the awe in her smile laden with a familiarly heavy affliction— like her smile when she almost kissed him back then, Paul grimly realised. His stomach churned, and Paul weaved his way out of the crowd.

Though, even from afar, his eyes were still drawn to her, somewhat blinded by the explosive colours and the girl in blue who bathed in the dark after.

He waited.

Waited.

Waited.

She never matched his gaze, never looked back at him.

When the display ended, she rushed over to him, and she was so damn casual, as if he never kissed her, as if she never tried to kiss him before, as if these sparks were almost nothing to her.

It was what always happened; they fell back into their cyclic routine, pretending that everything was nothing and that nothing really mattered.

"I want to be happy," Dawn said abruptly, sitting on his couch like always, with Paul an arm's distance away from her on the same couch like always. Paul was getting tired of always.

"And I want to be Champion of Sinnoh," he deadpanned, surfing through the channels with minimal interest.

"I'm serious, Paul." She pinched away the remote, cupped his cheek with a dainty hand. He felt sick when their eyes connected.

"I was too when I kissed you," he replied coldly, too tired to play nice, too tired of this cyclic routine, too tired of conforming to her wants.

Her cobalt eyes widened, and he could feel the slight tremble of her fingers against his cheek. "Paul—"

"What are you afraid of, Dawn?"

And she turned red, removed her hand. He knew she would. He knew she was probably tired of hearing this, but if it needed to be said, he would say it.

"You too?" she muttered, brows knitting together. "Why does everyone think I'm afrai—"

"Because you are," he interrupted. "And you are either too fucking proud to admit it, or too scared. And we both know which one it is."

"How—" she hesitated, and then the anger in her voice quickly dispelled. Her fists clenched on her lap, eyes glazing over and cheeks burning, she muttered, "Then, how are you so strong, Paul?"

"You asked me that already."

"When I was seven. It doesn't count."

"Because I don't run away from what I want," Paul replied sharply, "which is everything you're doing."

"What am I running away from?" And she snapped her eyes to his. There were sparks, of course there were, there always was, but this was different, because more important than the sparks, Paul looked bleary and tired. He was tired of this, tired of her.

And this was terrifying. Dawn forced her gaze away.

"You know that yourself. I'm not going to spoonfeed you everything." He stood up and dragged her to the door. She didn't resist, but her heart was hammering in her chest and it hurt. He pushed her (as lightly as he could in spite of his anger) out and said, "Come back when you've stopped running away."

He slammed the door shut.

Yo, the kiss was probably the most anti-climatic and unromantic thing ever, but heyyyyyyyyyyy, it's all good... right?

If whatever has happened is difficult to digest, or understand, or whatnot, PM me or review with your questions and I'll clarify them if I can!

I'll say this again, but older readers, please reread the earlier chapters if you have the time. Sorry about the hassle.

And please review!

~Adieu!

X's and O's,

Liberty~