To Give Yourself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quinn shifted slightly, readjusting her magazine. She lay stretched out on her stomach in the living room on one of the couches. Daria sat on the other couch also reading, although her chosen material was a book. Quinn wasn't really interested in tomorrow's fashions at the moment, but if she appeared to be reading then she had an excuse to not talk.
She'd missed Daria, really missed her, this past year while Daria was away at college. She hadn't realized just how much until Daria had shown up on the doorstep bearing a duffel bag of clothes.
"Just for a few weeks, while they spray poisonous pesticides in my apartment and clean up the blood stains."
The urge to hug her had almost been overwhelming. Quinn blamed it on nail polish fumes. Daria had said it was a combination of hair dye and hair spray leaking through her pores and into her gray matter.
Quinn glanced up at Daria and watched her turn a page in her book. When she was younger, she'd been fascinated with watching Daria read. Daria had never been one to give away what was going on inside of her; the stronger the emotion, the more hidden it remained. Except when she was reading. Quinn had discovered it by chance, walking by Daria's room at the right moment.
It hadn't been much physically, just a twitch of an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth lifting, but her eyes.... They'd been warm and amused. Whatever she'd been reading had evoked in her a genuine pleasure.
It was the first time Quinn had realized that Daria wasn't emotionally shut off; she was emotionally guarded. Close, but not the same. After that, whenever Daria had been in the living room reading, Quinn had sat with her, a magazine open before her, but her eyes focused on Daria as long as Daria felt alone. The minute Quinn's presence affected her, Quinn let her interest fade, slipping back into her familiar self.
"What are you looking at?"
Quinn started and flushed. She continued staring at Daria guiltily, unable to form words. "Um..."
Daria frowned angrily. "Quit staring at me. I hate being stared at."
Quinn snapped back to herself and rolled her eyes. "God, Daria. Not everything's about you, you know. I wasn't looking at you."
Daria narrowed her eyes. "Oh?"
"You just got in my way."
Daria rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, forgive me for sitting in your line of sight. I'm sorry. I'll move." She sat for a moment, her face as impassive as ever. "There. How's that?"
Quinn snorted and turned back to her magazine. "Whatever."
Daria watched her warily before going back to her book.
It was strange how different they were. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Daria fascinated Quinn, not that she'd ever admit it. She didn't understand Daria's interest in the morbid. Death was scary for her, hard to think about. She rarely thought about it, but Daria seemed to see death in every situation. It didn't seem to bother her. There were times when Quinn knew that death amused Daria.
What really got to Quinn, though, was the fact that Daria didn't care. She didn't care at all. In fact, knowing that someone disliked her or disliked what she'd done validated Daria. Quinn knew it. She'd seen it too many times to not know it. Quinn did care. She cared a lot. Too much even. She didn't like not being liked. She wanted to be liked no matter what. If eyes weren't on her, then what was she? Who was she? The thought of obscurity scared her. As long as everyone know who she was, liked who she was, what did it matter that she compromised herself a little bit? At least she wasn't lost in the crowd, nameless, faceless, meaningless.
"Twenty dollars in advance. More if it involves changing in any way. Another twenty when it's done."
Quinn blinked. "What?"
Daria was staring at her, her book in her lap, her arms crossed over her chest. "You're staring at me again. It means you want something, especially with that look on your face."
Quinn laughed. "Daria, you have just got to stop thinking the world revolves around you. I mean, come on. How could you help me?" She knew the words were stupid as soon as they were out of her mouth. The look on Daria's face made her wince internally.
"I'll remember that, Quinn, the next time you want something." Daria stood and left the living room, taking her book with her. Quinn watched her go. When Daria disappeared out of sight, she sighed, dropping her head on her arms.
She cared a lot, she knew. She didn't like having people dislike her, but sometimes...sometimes Quinn thought that she would give the world to be like Daria. Sometimes she thought that she'd give the world to be able to talk to Daria. No, to have the courage to talk to Daria. Because for all that she seemed uncaring, Daria did care. She cared and she loved, more than Quinn did. Stronger than Quinn did. She was careful with who she loved, and that enabled her to give more of herself to those she did love.
And that was what really fascinated Quinn. Daria knew how to give herself, to really give herself, not to appear to. Quinn didn't even know what she had to give, nothing that was worth more than a moment's glory anyway.
Quinn pressed her face into her arms harder and said, "I'm sorry, Daria."
She never noticed Daria standing at the bottom of the steps, and she never saw the smile that blossomed. She never knew that she had just given part of herself to someone, and that that someone cherished it more than anything else.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quinn shifted slightly, readjusting her magazine. She lay stretched out on her stomach in the living room on one of the couches. Daria sat on the other couch also reading, although her chosen material was a book. Quinn wasn't really interested in tomorrow's fashions at the moment, but if she appeared to be reading then she had an excuse to not talk.
She'd missed Daria, really missed her, this past year while Daria was away at college. She hadn't realized just how much until Daria had shown up on the doorstep bearing a duffel bag of clothes.
"Just for a few weeks, while they spray poisonous pesticides in my apartment and clean up the blood stains."
The urge to hug her had almost been overwhelming. Quinn blamed it on nail polish fumes. Daria had said it was a combination of hair dye and hair spray leaking through her pores and into her gray matter.
Quinn glanced up at Daria and watched her turn a page in her book. When she was younger, she'd been fascinated with watching Daria read. Daria had never been one to give away what was going on inside of her; the stronger the emotion, the more hidden it remained. Except when she was reading. Quinn had discovered it by chance, walking by Daria's room at the right moment.
It hadn't been much physically, just a twitch of an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth lifting, but her eyes.... They'd been warm and amused. Whatever she'd been reading had evoked in her a genuine pleasure.
It was the first time Quinn had realized that Daria wasn't emotionally shut off; she was emotionally guarded. Close, but not the same. After that, whenever Daria had been in the living room reading, Quinn had sat with her, a magazine open before her, but her eyes focused on Daria as long as Daria felt alone. The minute Quinn's presence affected her, Quinn let her interest fade, slipping back into her familiar self.
"What are you looking at?"
Quinn started and flushed. She continued staring at Daria guiltily, unable to form words. "Um..."
Daria frowned angrily. "Quit staring at me. I hate being stared at."
Quinn snapped back to herself and rolled her eyes. "God, Daria. Not everything's about you, you know. I wasn't looking at you."
Daria narrowed her eyes. "Oh?"
"You just got in my way."
Daria rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, forgive me for sitting in your line of sight. I'm sorry. I'll move." She sat for a moment, her face as impassive as ever. "There. How's that?"
Quinn snorted and turned back to her magazine. "Whatever."
Daria watched her warily before going back to her book.
It was strange how different they were. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Daria fascinated Quinn, not that she'd ever admit it. She didn't understand Daria's interest in the morbid. Death was scary for her, hard to think about. She rarely thought about it, but Daria seemed to see death in every situation. It didn't seem to bother her. There were times when Quinn knew that death amused Daria.
What really got to Quinn, though, was the fact that Daria didn't care. She didn't care at all. In fact, knowing that someone disliked her or disliked what she'd done validated Daria. Quinn knew it. She'd seen it too many times to not know it. Quinn did care. She cared a lot. Too much even. She didn't like not being liked. She wanted to be liked no matter what. If eyes weren't on her, then what was she? Who was she? The thought of obscurity scared her. As long as everyone know who she was, liked who she was, what did it matter that she compromised herself a little bit? At least she wasn't lost in the crowd, nameless, faceless, meaningless.
"Twenty dollars in advance. More if it involves changing in any way. Another twenty when it's done."
Quinn blinked. "What?"
Daria was staring at her, her book in her lap, her arms crossed over her chest. "You're staring at me again. It means you want something, especially with that look on your face."
Quinn laughed. "Daria, you have just got to stop thinking the world revolves around you. I mean, come on. How could you help me?" She knew the words were stupid as soon as they were out of her mouth. The look on Daria's face made her wince internally.
"I'll remember that, Quinn, the next time you want something." Daria stood and left the living room, taking her book with her. Quinn watched her go. When Daria disappeared out of sight, she sighed, dropping her head on her arms.
She cared a lot, she knew. She didn't like having people dislike her, but sometimes...sometimes Quinn thought that she would give the world to be like Daria. Sometimes she thought that she'd give the world to be able to talk to Daria. No, to have the courage to talk to Daria. Because for all that she seemed uncaring, Daria did care. She cared and she loved, more than Quinn did. Stronger than Quinn did. She was careful with who she loved, and that enabled her to give more of herself to those she did love.
And that was what really fascinated Quinn. Daria knew how to give herself, to really give herself, not to appear to. Quinn didn't even know what she had to give, nothing that was worth more than a moment's glory anyway.
Quinn pressed her face into her arms harder and said, "I'm sorry, Daria."
She never noticed Daria standing at the bottom of the steps, and she never saw the smile that blossomed. She never knew that she had just given part of herself to someone, and that that someone cherished it more than anything else.