A sort of ZADR attempt. Bear in mind, this takes place in my imagined IZ future, where Zim is now Tallest, having taken over Earth and Irk.

Basically, Dib's looking over his old Hi-Skool yearbook. And it makes him realize something.

--

The yearbook lay open in front of him.

Quietly, he turned the pages, eyes thoughtful and contemplative. These glazed faces on paper-- was it only a year ago that they were ignoring him, save for those few times they took notice enough of him just to laugh?

His fingers trembled; his amber eyes dimmed.

He paused at the picture of Zita, purple hair glamorously arranged, eyes framed with mascara-laden eyelashes, a pretty smile on her pale skin. This image he mentally compared with the memories he had of her: her disdainfully calling him a crazy freak, her loudly, ostentatiously turning him down in front of the whole school. He winced at that particular moment in time-- he had no idea what compelled him to ask her out.

But he remembered it had vaguely something to do with trying to destroy an obsession.

He turned the page, and grimaced as his eyes fell on Chunk. The boy's orange hair was in disarray, and a thin line of spittle hung around one corner of his mouth. Memories flashed through his mind, of painful wedgies and unmerciful beatings... and that final encounter with Chunk and his cohorts.

It had been final, he knew, when he saw the mechanical spider-like legs unexpectedly burst out from nowhere, effectively tearing apart his aggressors like paper.

This time, when he turned the page, he did so more violently, more out of guilt than anything. Yet he knew he was blushing now, as he had that time ago, after all the flecks of blood and tears and flesh and discomfort.

His eyes wandered, and found another violet-headed girl, eyes dull and hair tied in three short, neat ponytails. Her mouth was stretched in a horrific smile, her braces glistening in the light of the camera flash.

He slumped-- drooped, really, like a wilting white flower on its seventh eve. With a slender finger, he reached out and traced the girl's outline. She had loved him, he knew now, and he internally mourned her untimely death. He liked her, in his own way. After all, she was the one who had made him finally realize.

He had pushed her away, on their first, awkward date, when she had tried to kiss him. And that was when she had whispered those words.

"It's him, isn't it?"

She'd known it, then, mildly suspected it, despite her blatant stupidity, a truth he'd tried to deny. Love made one highly observant.

He sighed now, a deep sigh at all the past memories, at all the time that had passed between then and now, at his past life. Sadness overtook him, and yet a shameful feeling of triumph crept in, triumph over them, over the nonbelievers.

I won. And he was suddenly frustrated that they didn't know it.

"Dib-monkey! Where are you, you pitiful dirtbag?!"

He glanced up in surprise. The tele-screen had turned itself on, showing an enraged Zim in all his Tallest glory, crimson eyes narrowed. Dib closed the yearbook with a thump, and, instead of replying with a scathing insult as he would have done a year ago, smiled, as if he had been expecting the alien's intrusion.

The smile seemed to calm Zim down sufficiently, but still, the Irken glanced sulkily down at the human. "Looking at that stupid Skool book again, hyoo-man? I don't know why you keep forcing yourself to look at their pathetic faces; they are nothing now but piles of vaporized ash!"

When Dib replied, his voice was steady. "I don't force myself to look at them; I do it because I want to." He paused, a little hesitating pause.

Then, softly, he said, "They… they helped us, you know. More than you think."

The Tallest scoffed. "Zim knows not what you talk about."

"Yeah, it may be hard to believe," Dib admitted. "But…" His eyes caught Zim's. "…you do know what I'm talking about."

Zim tried to narrow his eyes even more. He didn't like to be reminded of the humans, the weak beings that had held Dib--his Dib-- down by mental chains. Only the chase--their little game of cat-and-mouse--liberated the boy.

And yet…

The Tallest spoke, his voice gentler than he intended it to be. "They are dead now, Dib."

The human gazed back at him. "They are," he agreed, and fell into a brooding silence.

"But," continued Zim, "we're not." Their eyes caught again, and Dib wondered why he was suddenly having trouble breathing.

He spoke, trying to regain control of himself.

"You let me live." Dib couldn't stop his voice from sounding a bit whiny, from breaking the moment.

Now the Irken smirked.

"Come to my chambers and I'll show you why."

Dib had to blush at that one, just as he had blushed long ago, when Zim had wiped off a spot of blood on his cheek almost tenderly. He chuckled a bit, and said, trying to make it out as a joke, "In memory of our first...?"

"Our first? So shall I cover you in blood before proceeding?"

The human couldn't pretend not to hear the obvious wicked desire in Zim's voice. He merely rolled his eyes in affectionate exasperation, and cut the transmission.

--

OMG, THEY DID IT WHEN CHUNK DIED. DD: Yeah, I know. xD

But the ending, to me, doesn't feel quite right. Not enough closure. Tell me, should I change the ending??

Other than that… hm.

And how come my oneshots are always so short...? -.-