A Portrait of Young Lovers
He kissed her in the science lab. It had started out chaste, but soon exploded into something more. It was an all-consuming raw need for each other. His fingers ran through her hair as he held her face close to his; she in turn pulled him closer to her, so that there was no gap between them, and their bodies were touching. It was a fiery and passionate encounter, and they must have been on fire, because it was as cold as the Arctic in the chilly lab (ever since they went to there, they'd turn chilly for no reason, but this time someone must turned on the air-conditioner to the maximum), but their skin was so deceptively hot.
"We shouldn't - (kiss) - be doing - (kiss) - this," she says.
"Why not?" He replies.
She looks up to his own dark eyes, which are especially bright and glittering, not twinkling with amusement, but searching and full of desire - for her, she thinks, suddenly as light as a feather and giddy with happiness at that thought. He immediately closes the gap by kissing her again, and this time she doesn't stop him.
"It just feels so wrong," she says, in between kisses, when she catches her breath. "We've known each other for so long - we practically grew up together."
"Most of it with Ms. Frizzle," he says with a lopsided smile, which on him looks so sexy that it doesn't ruin the moment yet, which would undoubtedly have been ruined for her (and any other girl for that matter) by such a statement.
"Still - doesn't it feel weird?" She persists, finding the novelty of kissing a guy she has become close with ever since the third grade to be somewhat unnerving. "I mean, we've known each other for so long, how come we've only started when we're seventeen?"
"There never was a perfect time to do this."
"But you went out with all those other girls!" She pulls away from him, and looks away - all of a sudden, it somehow unsettles her that being popular, he was the one to score all the hot dates, and went out with so many girls, many more definitely beautiful than she was; something must have happened with at least one of them.
"Because you were always too busy - not only for me, but for everyone. I tried to forget you when I first realized I - (he was about to say love, but love was too strong a word, and she might freak out) had feelings for you (she froze), because you never seemed like my type (that was true; ever since the seventh grade, his type leaned more to the wild, supermodel-esque, knowingly-seductive, red-haired vixens - excluding Arnold's cousin Janet), and I bet you were never my type (that was true too; she tended to favor the light-haired, intelligent guys, like Arnold, who she dated briefly, although Wanda would never call sitting together in a book cafe discussing the origins of Earth and living organisms as a date). But God, you were so intelligent." He lifts her chin, forcing her to look directly at him. "You were the only girl who really, truly challenged me. You made me think. Although it did help that you were so damn beautiful (she tried to avert her eyes, but his hand under her chin prevented her from doing so)."
It seemed only natural for them to kiss then, him with such fervor that it would have overwhelmed her if she didn't match his passion. The sun was setting, lending a warm, somewhat romantic glow to the deserted science lab (which they were supposed to clean after there was a mini-explosion - didn't all little boys just love explosions?). Practice would be over by now, for him, and she was shockingly late - she was supposed to be home forty-five minutes ago. But this moment was so perfect - surely it could last a while longer?
"Hey - oh."
They spun around, faces flushed from passion, embarrassment, and vexation that the most beautiful moment in their young lives thus far was so rudely interrupted by the voice from the doorway. Tim. Of all the people.
"I'm sorry," Tim says in his deep baritone voice, belying the fact that nothing was amiss, when - in fact, everything was thrown upside-down and topsy-turvy. "I was looking for my sketchbook, because I'm planning to enter one of the sketches in the - well, never mind. Wanda said she left it at - there it is!" He finishes, clearly relieved. "I'll just get going now."
An awkward silence ensues, and Tim turns around to leave when she cries out his name.
"Please don't say anything to anyone about this," she pleads, her expression so earnest. "We don't know - what happened, and we'd like to find out on our own. If it doesn't work out…" she let the words hang in the air, not observing (unlike Tim, who, as an artist, was extremely observant) the handsome face of the other boy falling, in evident disappointment, "Then the gang wouldn't be affected," she concluded.
Tim remembered the brief relationship she'd had with Arnold, which ended because they never saw enough of each other, having so many other commitments themselves. Things were uncomfortable enough, that for the longest time, the gang was somehow segregated, which ended when Arnold started dating other girls. Tim did not know, nor could he conceive the two ever working things out (he didn't even consider the possibility of them dating, but he let it slide for the moment).
"Okay," he says. It was a simple word of two syllables. And it was the least he could do for them. He turns around to leave again, and this time, neither one stops him. She has already turned to the other boy, and both are in a deep embrace. It is so strange to Tim, but he thinks that both of them really care for the other. Could characters such as themselves actually fall in love and have a satisfying, ending-with-marriage-and-2.5-kids sort of relationship? Perhaps it would work out. Yet they were – are – still so young, so innocent - even somewhat naïve. He replayed the scene he walked in upon, two young lovers (they certainly behaved like lovers, at any rate), kissing, all alone, in their own little world,
untainted from any sight of reality, bathed by the golden sunset - it was so very romantic, so surreal, that he couldn't get the vision out of his head.
Tim was a bland character. He never said much, partly because he never had much to say. And he didn't want to say something for no reason. He was no romantic, but in his opinion, love was generally like Cupid's arrows, straight, direct, and to the heart. And that scene had so picqued his interest, because it was so unlike Cupid's arrows.
He knew the picture he was going to enter for the competition. It would win first place for sure. The only thing was that he had to actually start on it first.
It was an awkward moment the next time all three of them met. He tried to be in character, but he was rather nervous, anxious, despite the fact they were supposed to be playing it cool. She was almost the same, and blushed when he touched her; it was strange, because she had never been so extremely shy. Tim, on the other hand, didn't have to try so hard to mask his uncomfortable feelings; in reality, he was pleased because this gave him a chance to observe them, and somewhat amused to see two of his close friends act so out of character, with him being more quiet than ever, with a soft look of love in his eyes whenever he looked at her, and her being so confused and not knowing what was going to happen, inwardly delighted in her position.
Tim remembered a quote or something from the character of Mr. Bennet in Pride and Prejudice: "A girl likes to be crossed in love every now and then - "
The more Tim saw of them, sneaking around, avoiding the others to be with each other (and not always to make out in the science lab; sometimes it was just to discuss several topics of interest, sometimes to just revel in being in each other's company and delight in doing the most mundane activities together), the more perfect they seemed together. If someone told him in third grade that the two of them would be a couple, he would have laughed; they were so contrary, despite both being young and intelligent. But it seemed that to be intelligent was enough, and looking at them, he realized (with a shock) that they were more similar than he realized. Wanda herself quoted from a girl magazine: "Smart is sexy." He put aside the fact that Wanda had thrown the magazine away, sniffing, "This magazine has got it all wrong. Confidence is sexy," to which the others unanimously agreed, including the two of them. But perhaps they were only placating her?
He took out the canvas and began sketching out the background, which was the science lab. As he continued to draw and observe the two models, he couldn't see them apart in his mind. They would surely last forever, as stupid as that sounded. And they had known each other for nearly all their lives. He couldn't believe that he'd had a crush on her, or that the other boy had dated all those girls, when he was secretly in love with her. Now, it seemed that if the two of them dated other people, it would be against the natural order of things.
He groaned when he realized he'd drawn the girl's face wrong again. Her soft, yet somehow aquiline features were more difficult to draw than he expected. It was so darned difficult to draw them, but by God, he would! He'd improve her pose, her features, to the exact millidegree of perfection. Next time, he caught the two of them again, he'd take a picture. Until then, he'd practice quick sketches of her.
It was later that week when Janet, Arnold's nosy cousin, nearly spoiled the whole arrangement, and was close to uncovering the couple's secret. Janet kept on transferring to Walkerville High, or its sister school, and she would sometimes shift to the gang's class, which was extremely disruptive, for although several years had passed, the years had done nothing to soften Janet's loud, bold and brassy exterior. This year, she transferred to Walkerville High, but to a different class (thank goodness!) than the others.
Tim was so exasperated with her that day! She'd just had to follow him to the science lab, where (in hiding) he was (secretly) sketching both of them together (it had since become a ritual for them, in the deserted science lab).
"What do you want?" He yelled, hoping, the two of them were able to hear him, and jump apart, when he suddenly saw a figure appear at the doorway with tousled short cropped red hair.
"Nothing," she shrugged. "Is there a reason why I shouldn't be here? Am I stumbling into a secret? Is there something no one else knows that you don't want them to know?" Her eyes gleamed, with great interest.
"Nothing!" Tim hastily tried to hide his sketchbook. It was to no avail. Janet tried to pounce on the sketchbook, but he came out of the room, confused, wondering what the entire ruckus was outside.
"What's all this?" He demanded. He picked up the sketchbook, which had fallen onto the floor during the scramble for the sketchbook. Tim was worried. Most of his recent sketches were of her.
He looked at Tim, and said so softly, Tim almost could not hear him, "Can I speak to you privately?"
When they were alone in another classroom (far away from the deserted lab, so Tim knew she'd - not Janet - made a break for it), he turned to Tim rather sadly, "I didn't know you had the hots for her as well."
Tim sighed. "It was a long time ago."
"Doesn't seem like that from all the pictures of her you've been drawing." The other boy sighed. "Remember our pact? Never go out with a girl if another person likes her at the same time. I'm going to honor it, Tim. I hope you do too."
"You've got the whole thing wrong," Tim tried to explain, but the other boy left. Janet had not, though. Somehow, neither of them noticed that she'd crept nearby and observed every little exchange and caught sight of the other girl's pictures. She looked especially solemn.
"I never thought -" she began. Tim abruptly cut her off.
"No," he agreed. "That's the problem: you never think. You only think you know everything. But you don't, and now you've ruined a relationship and a painting and made things awkward for everyone."
"But nobody knows!" Janet protested, unused to such harsh words, especially from someone as bland and mellow as Tim.
"Well, thank God for that," Tim said disgustedly, leaving her alone in the dust.
They still snuck around, albeit much less than they used to, but this time, Tim saw a change in their behavior. He was trying to let go of her, and she couldn't understand now. For once, their roles were reversed. He, who saw everything as clear-cut, now saw shades of grey, that he was torn before what he desired and what his conscience bade him do (even if he got the wrong idea). She, on the other hand, could only see two outcomes, black and white - what was right was right, and what was wrong was wrong, and it was as simple as that. They were no longer fiery and passionate, but tender and sad, as if they were aware of an impending tragedy.
Tim, however, was lucky to have caught them in a deserted classroom. They were in an embrace, bodies clinging to each other, an embodiment of two souls united as one. Were they too young for this? Undoubtedly. But this love came and ruled their hearts. There was an unreadable expression on his face which somehow translated to grief, but on hers there were tears, and lines of unhappiness were clearly etched on her face -
He kisses her on the cheek, and murmurs something in her ear. Her face falls, but she gathers herself and nods, so serious, it was endearing. The unshed tears do not leave her eyes, though. Tim turns around. He witnessed it yet again. Like the previous scene, this remains in his memory, but instead of scrapping the old scene altogether, he changes the expressions a little. He colors everything a little darker, a little more dramatic, and adds an element of sadness to her face, and cleverly hides most of the features of his face, so that it is literally unreadable.
But he leaves the golden glow of the sunset. He cannot bear to remove it.
"Look, I'm sorry!" Janet corners him in the art studio, where he is busy cleaning up after the art club meeting. "How many times should I apologize?"
"Until you fix up the problem between those two - no! Don't! Just leave me alone!" Tim says, a little blandly, but at some parts there is a steely edge to his voice. He can now see why the others were always so easily annoyed with her.
"Did you really like her?" Janet switches the subject.
"Go away," Tim says.
"Not until you answer my question." Janet folds her hands and looks expectantly at him. She is quite tall, like Phoebe, and both have red hair (Phoebe's a deep auburn, Janet a rich pepper red - unlike Arnold's 'strawberry blond'). But where Phoebe's charm lies in her quiet, gentle manners, Janet was loud, rambunctious, and bossy. And to him, she is not charming at all. Tim closes his eyes, to prevent himself from screaming out and venting his frustration.
"Yeah, like in, the third grade or something. Will you leave me alone now? I don't need to waste my time with a girl who not only thinks she knows-it-all - not that that's a bad thing per se (remembering DA and the countless number of times she'd checked the gang's homework diligently, but that was because she really did know it all - but, in addition, doesn't know when to drop a subject, is bossy, rambunctious, annoys the hell out of everyone and makes me want to throttle her!"
Her face falls. He turns around, obtains a pair of headphones, plays the music really loud and sings along, all the while cleaning with his back to her, so that he can't see her, and ignores her in that way. After about fifteen minutes, he turns around. She is not there.
A part of him feels cruel. Janet doesn't deserve that kind of treatment, despite her annoying ways.
"Hey, Tim-cat!" Wanda waves to him when she catches sight of him leaving the school compound. He sees the whole group together (sans him, of course) on the green grass, as if they were having a picnic, and notes the expressions on the secret couple's faces. They are so far apart from each other. His face was twinkling and full of laughter, but now its expressions are unreadable. She is nervous, a little afraid, perhaps?
"Finally you came out! Gee, does it take that long for you to complete a measly painting? I thought you'd found a sketch a week ago? See, we're all waiting for you! Me, Arnold, Carlos, Dorothy Ann, Keesha, Phoebe and Ralphie!"
"Really?" He laughs.
"No, we were waiting for Muhammad Ali to come to Walkerville," Keesha says, sarcastically, which causes everyone to laugh. "What have you been up to, anyway?"
"You guys heard of the Walkerville Art Festival, right?"
"Of course, Tim," Dorothy Ann asks, quietly.
"Well, there's a prize for budding artists, and I found that nothing in my sketchbook suited it. And then, I came across a beautiful picture. It was of a couple, who before this had never thought of each other in a romantic way, but one kiss changed everything. They couldn't possibly make it, I thought, to be frank, but when I observed the hidden nuances more closely, I was surprised, because it was so obvious in those little ways they interact with each other that they were clearly meant for each other. But I keep getting the girl's face wrong," he ended somewhat sheepishly.
"So you know the couple?" Ralphie asks.
"It's a picture, Ralphie," Phoebe says, in an almost inaudible volume. Tim could kiss her, if it didn't give everyone the wrong idea.
"Picture, shmicture. That doesn't answer my question!" Ralphie wasn't being a dimwit.
"Oh shut up, Tennelli," Carlos says, "And just stuff food into your nutrition-deprived stomach."
"Hey, I can do that," Ralphie says, stuffing a whole pizza into his mouth.
It was later when the two of them finally approached Tim.
"Guess I really overreacted, huh?" He began. Tim grinned.
"Well, bro, you never gave me a chance to explain."
"But, man, you were right. We never knew it ourselves."
Tim looked at the two of them. "Well, you both have more in common with each other than you know. Both of you love science, are intelligent, and are fairly attractive (she gave a delicate cough), and you both thrive on challenges and competition. But you guys truly care about each other. And in the end, that's what matters most."
He squeezed her hand, and both of them smiled at Tim. "You know, I got to hand it to you guys, both of you really made me redefine my ideas of teen love, and love in general, in fact."
"Really?" She raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Sure," Tim said. "It's all about animal attraction. That, and compromise."
"Animals don't compromise," he pointed out. "That effectively cancels out the idea of animal attraction."
"You got me there," Tim said. "I didn't mean it that way. You guys have known each other for so long, you know most, if not all, of each other's strengths and weaknesses, secret wishes and deepest desires, and you're naked there, for each other to see."
"I wish!" He laughs, and she says his name in annoyance to keep him in order - an act which has never ceased to fail in failing to keep him in order.
"See? You know each other's faults, and are still able to accept each other. And this being the first time each of you have ever had such a serious relationship, there is a certain excitement, because you know both of you are so innocent and naive in this experience. And that makes it near to perfect."
"Are you sure you don't want to become a shrink?" He says. She simply rolls her eyes.
"Trust me, man, if I could apply what I've learnt to my own sad, pathetic love life, I'd be hot with the ladies."
"Trust me, you are," she assures him. "Excluding myself, of course," she adds quickly.
"For a minute, you hurt my feelings," the other boy grins, and tells her.
"Really?" She is smiling faintly now.
"Really," he says, as earnest as ever when he is with her.
They are looking into each other's eyes. Tim decides this is the best time to leave, but they call out his name. He turns around.
"Can we see the picture?" She asks.
He nods, and leads them to the art studio.
The picture captured their deepest thoughts in the purest, simplest of ways. Despite the fact that Tim couldn't outline their characters, it was obvious the picture caught the essence of who they are. Their somewhat awkward stance as they kissed did not seem awkward, but in fact betrayed a sort of perfection of the moment. They weren't holding each other yet; only their lips touched at first. Both of them had one hand on the desk of the science lab and another in the air, as if they were almost ready to embrace. The profile of each could be easily seen. The window was in the background and the light of the sunset enveloped them, in a warm atmosphere. It was a perfect ending to the day, and in this story, it would seem the perfect ending to such a romance.
But the three of them knew better - it only symbolized the beginning of something new. As the day ended, the dark night would come to replace it, and another, new day would come. A new day, a new hope, a future waiting to be written.
"Thank you," she says to Tim, her voice choking with emotion, as she hugs the other boy closer.
Dear Tim,
Congratulations on winning the Walkerville Art Festival Competition for the Best Junior Artist category. That is quite an achievement. You undoubtedly deserved it - the painting was so surreal and picturesque; did the kiss really happen? Of course it did. It may be idealized, but you really captured the soul of the moment.
You also managed to fix the two of them up together. I'd never have thought it. I knew when you were determined, you'd find a way. You made them go public! They seem so happy, I'm really quite envious of them. I know Arn's a little peeved, apparently at the whole PDA thing, although they hardly even kiss in public. He's just jealous; I know because I kind of blackmailed him, and he admitted that he liked someone, but didn't have the balls to ask her out. Not that I can tell who it is.
I thought a lot about what you said to me. You're right, of course; you're so level-headed that you make really good analyses, unlike neurotic people like Wanda or Dorothy Ann. I have got a lot of faults. I will admit it was painful to hear, but I wanted to thank you. No
one has ever said my faults straight out to my face. I really needed that, because when I thought about it, I have been making everyone's life hell, by thinking I'm all that and never knowing when to stop. You really gave me a paradigm shift, and I'm hoping to improve my character.
I know I'm not as eloquent as you, so I hope you can understand this note. I took forever to find the right words, and made about 50 drafts, just so that you can see that I truly mean what I said.
Love,
Janet
Fin
Author's Note: This plot bunny was screaming to be written. Of course it was Tim who was holding the plot bunny and screaming at me in the first place, but that's beside the point. There are so few Tim-centric fics, so this one was just begging to be written. Some scenes (especially the first one) was inspired by Stephenie Meyer's The Host, which is awesome. I was also listening to Marie Digby's Spell, which somehow found its way in different lyrics into this fic, especially at this end.
As for the secret couple, who the characters are, are up to you. For all you know, Harry Arm and Tiffany joined the gang and started making out in the lab. You choose who they are, although it's kind of obvious what I was thinking of when I typed this out! :P
As for who goes with who, I made it obvious that Janet had a crush on Tim. It seems so strange, but the more I read about fanon Tim/Janet, the more I fall in love with it.