A/N: Simply because there aren't anymore good DADR's out there.
Dib is a teen, just imagine the angst . and his counselor from the past has come back again, DADR in later chapters, and major OOCness
-Thunk-
Counseling…
-Thunk-
Worse. Skool provided counseling.
-Thunk-
Five. Fucking. Years of it.
-Thunk-
You'd think they'd try something harder with Dib if five years of forced emotion spewing didn't improve his diagnosed alien obsessed "insanity".
-Thunk-
Dib lazily stared at the numerous number 2 pencils sticking in the moldy discolored ceiling, slouching in his uncomfortable chair, he stole another pencil from the smiley face "life is beautiful" mug sitting on the empty desk and flicked it up with ease.
-Thunk-
The pencil stuck. He yawned.
Stealing another one, he twirled it in his fingers as his amber eyes glanced at the ticking clock, his only companion in the empty dank depressing room. The hi-skool counselor had yet to arrive.
Yes, that's right, hi skool.
And oh how Dib loathed it.
Running a pale hand through his trademark scythe lock he sighed exasperatedly, first day of skool and he already wanted to bolt, unfortunately he couldn't, Gaz's blackmailing and death threats made sure of that.
He couldn't even describe how much he hated her for that.
Slouching in his seat he propped up his booted feet on the desk with a loud thunk in a vain attempt to get comfortable, his long leather jacket completely zipped to the top, the air conditioning was on full blast… and it was in the middle of September.
Dib could see his breath in the air; he watched it lazily disappear in mild amusement, irritation giving way to boredom as he resumed twirling the pencil through his fingers. The clock ticked on, unnaturally loud.
-Tick- Tock- Tick- Tock- TICK-FUCKING TOCK-
The scythe lock began to droop as he slowly dozed off. His pale hands intertwined on his lap, the pencil forgotten in his sleeve.
He heard the door open, someone stepped in with a nervous shuffle, coughed, sat down, fidgeted. Dib didn't open his eyes; he could tell it wasn't his counselor from last year.
"Sorry for being so late…" a tenor voice mumbled nervously, masculine, middle aged. He cleared his throat.
Dib didn't react, the fluorescent lights were reflecting on his glasses, the other man couldn't tell if the teen was asleep or awake. He fidgeted again. Dibs smirk was hidden underneath the high collar of his coat, mimicking the style of his father.
"Um… if you're awake would you mind removing your boots off my desk, please?" the other had found his confidence, though the authority sounded soft in his request. Dibs smirk grew.
He tilts his head to the side to produce a sickening crack; he could hear the man across from him cringe. He chuckles darkly.
Dib knew all to well that he was the perfect example of the deranged teen with a shit load of problems. The multiple piercings along both ear ridges blatantly told every one that pain was no problem for him, so did the partially seen tattoos peeking from his sleeves. The coat itself was a unique symbol of deviance against the norm; ripped with use it had an array of chains, zippers, metal studs, and many a pocket scattered across the vast black leather. The high collar hid the bottom half of his face, his expression nearly impossible to read. His white hands were adorned with strange rings of questionable nature that left suspicion of satanic worship. And his hair always had people taking a second look. That long jagged scythe that seemed to defy gravity was impossible to replicate, impossible to ignore. With his pale skin, thin frame, hair, clothing, everything, he shouted out to the entire world that yeah, he was different, and yeah, they could all go to hell.
Dib almost pitied the man, no doubt he read his file, seen all his problems, heard about all those psychiatrists and shrinks and counselors who tried to help him. Who've failed to help him. And now, this counselor had set it upon himself to do what those other people couldn't. But he had never asked for help in the first place, he had never needed it. Dib knew he wasn't insane. So he almost pitied him, because Dib was going to make this man's life a living hell.
He heard him cough again, boots, off, please?
Dib lets one heavy foot fall none too quietly, the other staying firmly on the desk, the man jumps. He tries not to laugh.
Shifting to accommodate his new position, he unzips the long coat to get comfortable, exposing his t-shirt covered chest to the cold air of the room. Letting out a yawn he finally opens his eyes, might as well get this over as soon as possible.
What he sees was the equivalent to a giant mallet bull dozing into his skull.
The dark mirth in his eyes completely disappears and slowly he removes his other foot, kicking over the mocking pencil filled mug off the desk.
Dib did not flinch as it shattered.
Dwicky did.
Silence flooded the room.
-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock…tick……tock……TICK………fucking…………TOCK-
Shifting very slowly, Dib sat up, propping his elbows on his knees, bringing his metal adorned hands to his chin, the bronze skull glittered on his forefinger. He stared at Dwicky.
Dib did not say a word.
Dwicky's tie was suffocating, he tugged at it "H-hello again, Dib…" he tried to smile.
Dib did not respond.
The smile faltered.
Dwicky shivered, it was so goddamn cold.
"Welcome back…" clearly, softly, emotionless.
More silence.
Dwicky's stomach twisted. "You've changed," He offered.
"You haven't." he replied.
And he hadn't, sans a few gray hairs and a thicker frame; he was the same, even the clothes. The counselor sighed, he needed to explain, "Listen, Dib-"
"Why?"
Dwicky blinked "What?"
"It's been years Mr. Dwicky" he shifted, sat up, leaned back, stared, "and you're back now. Why?" there was no emotion in his voice.
Dwicky couldn't find any.
The counselor sighed and placed his elbows on the desk, he took a deep breath "Dib," he began. "I know I abandoned you. Probably when you needed me the most, I betrayed your trust, Dib, I betrayed you. I'm so-"
"That's not what I asked, Mr. Dwicky." He cut in coldly, the apology meaningless. "You had the chance to leave."
"Why the fuck did you come back?" there was venom in that question, accusation, but so faint you had to listen hard to hear it. Finally, he had emotion, if just a tiny bit.
Relieved that the teen could feel, but weighed with more guilt, Dwicky sighed yet again. "This is my home, Dib, I had to come back," he explained, "to finish things, to make things right."
Dib was quiet, thinking, leaning back he raised a brow. "How?"
Dwicky smiled, the tie no longer tight around his neck, the teen was giving him a chance. He took a moment to silently thank him, took a deep breath and began, "I don't think you fully understand what happened that night…"
Dib tilted his head, the scythe whipping back like a tail, "I'm listening…" the tiniest bit of amusement barely detectable.
"You see, I've done a lot of things I'm not particularly proud of in my college years," Dwicky began, "drugs was a big one of them. But I've been clean ever since graduation, funny thing about drugs is that they stay in your system for a long time…"
Dib placed a hand on his chin, listening very closely to his confession, the bronze skull ring snarling on his finger. He slouched, brows raised.
Dwicky pressed on, "That night, in the woods, chasing your 'Zim', I guess that I burned off the last of the drugs, resulting in one last acid trip." He cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I saw spaceships, I went off riding rockets with aliens, Dib. I can't imagine how you must of dealt with a high person at such a young age. I'm sorry for putting you through that." He was sincere, guilt clear on his face. "I was tripping, I must have ran off, left you all alone in those woods confused out of your mind. It was such a whirl. I was sitting, joking with aliens on a space ship. Can you believe that?" shaking his head he exhaled, "I found myself hours later, unconscious, in a dumpster outside of Bloaty's." he sighed, running a hand through his shaggy graying hair. "I thought it was real, actually, seriously thought that all of it was real. But it was just a hallucination, and I completely lost it. I broke down, I shattered." He took a moment and then continued on, "I went home and thought long and hard about my life, I packed up and I just left. I traveled, I did things… I found myself, I was happy traveling the world. But personal matters brought me back here, then I remembered you… and that's why I'm back, Dib."
Dwicky felt like they had switch places, Dib the counselor, him the troubled patient. He exhaled, feeling better now he was done with his confession, "I can only hope that you could forgive me, and allow me to be your counselor."
Seconds past. Dib simply sat.
Dwicky's relieve quickly disappeared.
-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick- "heh…heeheheehhahaahahahahahaaHAAHAAAHAAHAHAAAHAA!!"
Dibs laughter rose and filled the entire room, he was doubled over, rocking back and forth, slapping his knee, laughing so hard it hurt.
It was just that sad. This man had been given undying proof by his own eyes that aliens existed, he had physically, willingly, soberly boarded their ship, talked with them, interacted with them, flew off in space with them! And yet he had convinced himself into what he physically touched, seen, smelled, experienced, first hand, that it was completely utterly fake. A drug induced illusion.
Simply because Plookesians loved pulling mock abductions.
Dib had given up trying to show people the truth a long time ago, now all he could do was laugh.
He had almost fallen out of his seat. Clutching his sides he tried to get himself under control, gasping for air once the laughing fit was over.
Dwicky was alarmed, somewhat hurt, and very much confused. He had expected anger, bitterness, disbelief, even denial, but not laughter.
His lithe chest heaving for air, Dib wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and sighed, "Wow, that explains everything." The mirth infused with his voice. "Sure, Mr. Dwicky, I forgive you."
Dwicky eyed the teen before him, concerned, "What?"
Dib sat up and composed himself, but the smile did not leave his face, "To be honest, I forgot you after a week."
Dwicky tried to find the lie in that, he couldn't.
"You're wasting your time coming back here," his voice light in utter amusement, "You want to be my counselor, fine, go ahead. I only come here so the Professor won't bitch about skipping on my medication and bullshit. So lets just get this psyche mumbo jumbo shit over with," grinning he rubbed his hands for warmth, "shrink away Dwick-man."
"Oh, my…" Dwicky sighed.
Dib grinned, the man before him had no idea what he had in for him.
A/N: tell me what you think and maybe I'll continue this.