I'll keep it short: new story, AU, ikarishipping, I don't own Pokémon. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Of Boring Beginnings

"You remember that favor you owe me?"

Paul looked up from his book to see his brother smirking at him. If the devilish glint in his eyes was any indication, what was to follow couldn't be good.

He coughed and tried to weave some nonchalance in his voice. "I don't remember such a thing."

Reggie grinned slyly. Oh, no. "So you're saying I should leave cousin Eileen to gush all over you on the next family reunion, which is, if I dare remind you, just next week?"

Paul sighed, knowing his brother wasn't kidding one bit. He'd really leave him to deal with the hectic girl all on his own this time if he didn't oblige with whatever thing he wanted him to do.

"What do you want?" He asked with exasperation, closing his eyes and hoping to the stars that what his brother had planned for him wasn't as completely idiotic and bothersome as usual.

The things Reggie ordinarily asked of him were out of pure concern for his own well-being, but the older brother skillfully managed to mask them all as tedious tasks and blackmailed Paul into complying into what he thought to be best for him. Usually, they were simple-sounding ones, but irritating and completely pointless in Paul's opinion, like being more sociable or wearing more than one color (which was, without exceptions, black).

Sensing that Reggie did all those things out of concern and annoying brotherly love, Paul usually caved in and as a plus, got protection from his crazed over-affectionate cousin in return. The teenager shuddered at the thought of Eileen. She had gone so bonkers over him in the past two years that she attacked him in ferocious hugs every time she saw him, in a terrifying mixture of an overly-excited fangirl with uncontrollable hormones, and an old aunt, who'd just seen her favorite nephew and had the irresistible need to pinch the hell out of his cheeks.

However, as much as the girl terrified him, the evil grin that Reggie currently had on his face made him wonder if putting himself through his still unknown wicked scheme was worth another Eileen-free family reunion.

The grin widened and Paul almost felt the urge to wince. It was against his nature to show any weakness, so he forced himself to keep on a poker face, while in reality Reggie's behavior was beginning to really scare him.

"I made an appointment at a therapist's office."

There, it was out.

Paul almost did a double take. "You did what?" He sputtered out disbelievingly.

"I made an appointment at a therapist's office." Reggie repeated infuriatingly calmly.

Paul tried really hard not to hit him as he paraphrased his question through gritted teeth. "What. For."

"For you, dear brother. The favor I'm asking of you entails you attending said session."

"No way in hell." Paul spit out with disdain. He'd rather spend the following three years with Eileen clutching his arm than visiting a fucking psychiatrist.

"Don't dismiss my offer in such a chop-chop way. This isn't the kind of therapist you're thinking about, he's much more of a counselor than anything else that might have crossed your mind."

"That doesn't make me want to see him any better. You're the one with the mental issues, make good on your precious appointment yourself."

Reggie sighed tiredly and rubbed his temples. "Paul, you don't understand. I don't think there's something wrong with you or your head, I just want you to talk to somebody and seeing as talking to friends isn't an option, I went for the closest thing to it."

"I'm not. Going. To a therapist." Paul pronounced each bit clearly and sharply in hopes of getting it through his brother's thick skull.

Reggie laughed dryly. He certainly wasn't one to take a hint. "Of course you are, little bro. Now, you better get ready, you have to be there at four." With a tone of finality and smugness, he returned his attention back to the magazine about freaking knitting that lay in his lap, leaving an unimpressed Paul to glare at him. He could swear, nothing in an apron was supposed to be this malicious.

"I told you I'm not going." The younger brother redirected his attention to his own reading mater rather demonstratively.

Reggie just smirked, but didn't answer. Paul narrowed his eyes suspiciously, not expecting his brother to drop his demands so easily. His smirk, in particular, was what gave him away and made the teenager stand on his guard. There was some sort of trap prepared for him, he was sure of it.

"What are you boys entertaining yourselves with?"

Paul's eyes widened with sudden realization as his mother made her entrance in the living room, smiling warmly at her sons. Reggie looked up from the magazine and gave his brother an evil smirk, confirming his suspicions.

Don't you dare. Paul stared at his brother threateningly, but the annoying smirk didn't leave the elder's face as he opened his mouth.

"Actually," Reggie spoke with barely-concealed self-satisfaction in his voice. "Paul and I are just getting ready to go out. We're going to a counselor to work on his communicative skills."

"Ah!" The woman clasped her hands together. "What a wonderful idea!"

Reggie gave Paul a self-righteous grin and the younger sibling knew he had been had. There was no way for him to oppose the idea now that his mother had been introduced to it and had, apparently, liked the shit out of it.

A dirty card to play, Reggie. Paul glared at his brother one more time and got up to get ready for the now inevitable visit to the therapist's office. On his way out of the living room, he stopped to give his mother a hug.

"Are you feeling fine?" He inquired, letting a little of his concern seep in his voice. His mother smiled at him as she pulled back.

"You don't have to worry about me, Paul. I've been doing a lot better." He didn't believe her. Not by a long shot. She was still in the dressing gown she hadn't changed out of for days, her hair was disheveled and unwashed, her face gave away continuous nights of sleep deprivation – bags under the eyes, greyish skin, tired gaze.

If that was what 'doing better' looked like, Paul didn't like it one bit. He decided not to confront his mother though, sensing that she wouldn't be able to hold it together anymore and might have another breakdown. Instead, he managed to give her a crooked smile, wondering what he could do to keep her from slipping back into her depression. He really didn't know what to do to help her, so tried to at least fulfil all of her wishes, even if it meant he had to carry out his brother's crazy schemes.

The woman smiled back and lifted her skinny arm to ruffle his hair with affection. "I know you don't like it, but this visit to the counselor might prove to be really beneficial for you, Paul."

"I know, mom." He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, before making his way out of the room and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Reggie looked after him with a smile. Seeing that he would really do anything for the sake of their spent mother, he almost felt bad for using it against him. But it was for Paul's own good, after all.

Hours later, Paul found himself staring at his laptop's screen at a loss for what to do. The blank Word document he had opened stared right back at him mockingly as his fingers grazed over the keyboard aimlessly.

"I choose to keep my distance from people, but that doesn't mean I have a disorder. It's my choice."

"Ah, I see." Paul remembered how Dr. Palmer had leaned back to the comfort of his armchair and had pressed his fingers together in a contemplative pose. "Well, young man, if you're truly completely fine with your life the way it is, I'm not sure you need my consultation."

Paul had turned to leave at that point but had been stopped by the voice of the therapist.

"Though you're assigned the whole session, Paul. It'd be a pity if we didn't utilize the time."

He had thought that it was a tremendous waste of time, but he hadn't said anything, so the counselor had continued.

"If you're not keen on engaging in human contact, you should find another way to express your thoughts. Keeping things pent up underneath the surface isn't good."

Dr. Palmer's voice echoed through his mind and he couldn't help the defeated sigh that escaped his lips. What was he supposed to do now? Keep a fucking journal?

"I know you've already made your position clear on this, but I'd like to ask you nevertheless. I get that you're fine on your own, but aren't there times when you just wish to share some of your thoughts with somebody?"

Paul snorted derisively upon remembering that particular question. Blasphemy.

"Aren't there times, when you feel like you're missing out on something that can actually turn out to be great?"

Paul had sighed exasperatedly. "No, there aren't. Look, I don't mean to offend you or anything, but for me this is a total waste of time. I don't think there is any way for you to change my lifestyle and, frankly, I don't want you to."

"Alright then, allow me to change the subject. Tell me, Paul. What are your hobbies?"

The teenager huffed as he recalled the stupid question. "I have none," had been his straight-forward answer and it was true. He was a hobby-less person, who only did things he found necessary and didn't get out of his way to do something he enjoyed.

"Then your first job will be to find one and transform it into a way of communication."

"How does one find a hobby, exactly?" He had responded sassily, which had earned him a smile from the counselor.

"Why don't you tell me what you're good at instead. Preferably, something artistic."

Preferably, something artistic. What the actual hell? He had thought scornfully. Does it seem to him like I am an artistic person? Reggie is so getting murdered tonight.

"Come on now." The doctor had taunted with amusement. "You're actually telling me there's nothing in particular you're good at? Something you'd enjoy doing?"

An image of a younger version of himself had appeared before his eyes. Back when he had been little, there had been such a thing. A thing that he did well, a thing that had brought him joy. Something he had been proud of and had wanted his parents and older brother to be proud of as well. And indeed, they had been. They had all been happy.

Paul had shaken his head slightly, chasing all thoughts of the distant past away. It had been a long time ago, back when he was a member of a complete and loving family. It wouldn't do him any good to dwell on that. He didn't want to end up like his mother.

"No. Like I told you, I've got no hobbies."

Dr. Palmer's eyes had held a particularly mischievous glint when he had said, "Ah, but your brother told me that once upon a time you used to be quite the writer."

Paul had to admit he'd been surprised at those words. But surprised that Reggie had yet again shot him in the foot? Not so much. He wouldn't put it past him to reveal details about his past to random strangers and his brother had once again proved him right.

"That was a long time ago." He had replied through gritted teeth.

"Well, why don't we try to renew that old passion of yours?"

"Sorry, sir. I'm not much of a storyteller." Paul remembered he had added a special tint of resentment in those words, but that still hadn't caused Dr. Palmer to give up.

"Doesn't have to be fairy tales. Just write from your heart, from past experiences, from your views on the world, from anything you know or wish to be true."

Paul had looked utterly confused at that and the counselor had helpfully assisted him by only adding mysteriously, "I'm sure you'll find some inspiration, Paul."

And that brought him to the predicament he was stuck in right now. Sitting in front of his laptop in his dark room, trying to think of things to write.

Inspiration. How did one find inspiration exactly?

Paul sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and letting his thoughts run freely. They brought him to his early childhood, a time that had definitely been the happiest for him, but which brought pain and nostalgia with its sweet and unreachable memories.

The later years of his life had been filled with much more bitterness, the result of his shattered family had taken its toll on him and molded him into the person he was today. Distant. Introverted. Cold.

He had witnessed his mother disappear in her own self and had tried to get any sign out of her, a sign that she was still alive and functioning. After a while, he had given up and let her recover from her state on her own. He had learned that mental trauma could be overcome only by the one, who was traumatized, regardless of the support and love other people showered him with. The person would only get better if he made the choice to change for the better and free himself from the dark pits in his mind.

And suddenly, he knew what to write about. He opened his eyes and adjusted himself in front of the machine which was about to become a creative tool in his hands.

And he started. From the very beginning.

Dawn didn't bother to announce her arrival in the house. It was empty, anyways, although she wouldn't have done so even if her mother had been home.

She imagined a younger version of herself running up the porch and entering with a triumphant "I'm home!", but something didn't sit right with that illusion. Maybe if a few things, which she had no power to change, had gone differently in her family, maybe then such a scenario would be possible.

But it wasn't. So she disregarded it, scolding herself for overthinking so much. Life would be so much easier for her if she didn't insist on torturing herself with such thoughts on a daily basis.

She sighed as she entered her room and dropped her backpack on the bare floor. Today didn't seem like it would be one of the 'bad' days in the Berlitz household, so she decided to stay there for the night. Something she hadn't done for the past few days, but doubted that her mother had even noticed.

Dawn sat by her desk and took her laptop out of her bag. Her fingers mechanically typed the website in the bar and pressed Enter. Before she knew what she was doing, the page loaded on the screen and she sighed, realizing she had gone there out of habit again.

It used to be her favorite place in the world, that site. It was a small virtual world, where people from all around the globe posted stories of various genres, discussed topics in forums and befriended each other on the base of common interests.

She was there only for the stories, though. Had been, anyways. She hadn't read anything from that site in a long time, not since the stories on there had become too unrealistic for her to enjoy them. Sure, she had loved fairy tales while growing up; they had given her hope and filled her with dreams of a brighter and fairy tale-like future and she had loved and cherished them, until she had grown up and realized that the future wasn't going to get any pinker for her at all.

The circumstances had caused her to become cynical and thus, the stories had begun seeming too far-fetched, too distant from reality, too good to ever become true. And she had simply stopped enjoying them, stopped reading them, stopped investing all her hopes in them.

Every now and then though, she couldn't stop herself from logging on and browsing aimlessly around. It had almost become like a drill over the years.

She typed in her e-mail and password and logged in to find her alert list filled with newly updated stories, which she had added a long time ago. She didn't bother checking them and instead went for browsing the recently posted ones, not really hoping to find something worth reading.

Dawn propped her chin on her palm for support as she scrolled down with her other hand. True to her expectations, nothing managed to catch her eye. She sighed with boredom, but given that she had nothing else to do, she decided to look through another page before giving up on her story hunt for the day.

As the second page of the newly listed stories loaded, Dawn did a quick scan and concluded that there was nothing worth her attention. And she barely missed it.

Crammed between two stories, whose summaries pompously promised a soap-opera type of drama inside, she narrowly spotted a story, which had no image for a cover, but provided a short 'resume' that caught her attention.

"Real life shit, simply don't read. We all struggle to find our way to survive in this hellhole called Earth and this story can only help the average reader in one way, namely the correct grammar and spelling used in it. Don't even bother looking at it and keep scrolling; nothing fun and light for you to find here, only reality and its ugly side." Dawn read aloud and raised an eyebrow. Wow, the writer of that story had to be a huge jackass.

Still, she couldn't stop herself from clicking on it, her interest having been peeked by the strange summary. It seemed as though the author didn't even want people to read it, which kind of contradicted the fact that he had uploaded it on a popular Internet platform.

Hm, let's see. Dawn began reading the first chapter of the story inside and with every minute that passed, her eyes widened more and more. By the time she read it, she was left absolutely speechless by the skill with which it had been written, but by the story it told as well.

That was the kind of story she had been looking for all along. It really reflected reality and showed its cruelty, making shivers go down Dawn's spine. That was the spark she had been searching for. That was a story, for which she'd regularly check her alert list.

Still paralyzed by the genius of the text she had just read, the bluenette moved her eyes towards the author's username. "Escaping my thoughts," she read in a whisper and shakily reached for the mouse, suddenly feeling compelled to click on it. She did so, but the profile that appeared on the screen didn't have any description in it and she couldn't help but feel disappointed, although not completely surprised.

The bluenette saw that the account had been made just earlier that week and felt the urge to send the user a PM to praise him for his work. Whoever he or she was, it didn't seem like he/she wanted to make friends on this site. That much was clear from the summary of his story and the lack of description on his profile, but Dawn decided to be a little rebellious and send him a message nevertheless.

With a childish giggle, she clicked on the PM icon and composed her message carefully, hesitating for a second before pressing 'send'.

Dawn wondered if escaping my thoughtswas even going to answer, but decided not to pay the matter so much thought. With a sigh, she shut down her laptop and returned it in her backpack, not wanting to forget it there on the following morning when she had to go to school. She didn't know if she'd have to spend a few more nights away from her house, after all. She had to always be ready.

With that thought in mind, the blue-haired girl went to her dresser and got out some fresh clothes, making a mental note to herself to do some laundry whenever she had the chance. She folded them with care and put them in her backpack as well, taking out a sandwich she had bought on her way 'home' and unwrapping it.

Her phone buzzed and she smiled as she saw a text from her cousin Marina.

'how's it going, Blue? feel free to spend a few nights here'

Dawn frowned and set her sandwich aside, wiping her hands on a napkin to type an answer. 'I'm not a charity case, you don't have to invite me over out of pity'

'i know, but the kids and i miss u a lot ;( plz come'

The bluenette smiled. 'Ok then, if you insist. I'll call you tomorrow.'

'oki! good night, Blue! :)'

Dawn put her phone back on the desk with a chuckle. It was still weird for her why her cousin insisted on calling her Blue, when she herself had blue hair as well, albeit a much lighter color. Over the years the nickname had just stuck and Dawn wasn't that bothered by it; quite the opposite, it made her feel like she had a strong bond with Marina, something she didn't have with anyone else from her family, no matter how much she wished for it to not be that way.

After finishing the remains of her sandwich she tossed the wrap in the empty trashcan. Checking that everything was done for her classes the following day, she decided to go to bed and try to get some rest. She didn't bother to change, but brushed her teeth and put her hair in a messy bun, preventing it from bothering her throughout the night.

She tucked herself in the cold bed and snuggled into the plain gray covers, hoping to get a night of good, dreamless sleep. She hadn't been able to sleep properly lately, but wished for a change. She wished for a lot of things to change.

Just wishing wasn't going to do anything for her though, but in the meantime she did her best to keep up with life as it was.

So she closed her eyes and forced herself to fall asleep, finding herself in a gray world of monotony where nothing ever happened, where everything stood still, but where, despite of the subdued colors and the suffocating desperation, still shone a tiny beam of hope too.

So, the idea for this story has been swimming around my mind for a while and I decided to finally get it out. This is really more of a prologue, I hope I'll be able to post the next chapter real soon, since it's basically already written. This story is going to include some heavy stuff, somewhat sucky backstories and sort of obscene language.