Series: Invader Zim
Pairing(s): ZADR (aka Zim/Dib)
Summary: It was a look they'd shared more times than either could count, and it was the look that tied them together for good.
Disclaimer: Invader Zim and all related characters, etc. are the property of Nickelodeon and the brain-child of Jhonen Vasquez.
Other Notes: Wow, I can't believe I'm already putting this up... Didn't I just post "Normalcy" a day or two ago? xD Ah, well. Anyway, "Mamihlapinatapai" is easily one of my favorite words, so naturally, when I spotted it written out on a sticky note on my desk whilst thinking about Zim and Dib, something just clicked and I had to write this. I could have been doing many more important and meaningful things, but hey. xD At least this way I got to write out what is essentially a 1900-word drabble. Oh, and for those who haven't thought to look up "Mamihlapinatapai" already, it means "a look shared by two people where each wants the other to initiate something that both desire but that neither wishes to initiate themselves." Well, maybe in the language it's from it means something a little less congruent with my fanfic than that definition is, but nothing I can do about that now. =P
Be sure to tell me what you think with a review! It's the most meaningful way to share your opinion about any piece of writing! =)
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It was a look they'd shared more times than either could count, and it evolved alongside their relationship in a way that neither had ever stopped and tried to understand. Even before their relationship could be called a relationship, it was there, in some vague, primitive form, and it was as a flame. It burned and it grew and consumed both of them and kept burning off the passion it found there; and slowly it evolved from a spark to a forest fire before being subdued into a mere candle's flame once more.
Except perhaps, they had never had a spark. The first time they shared such a look, it had already promised to consume them both and was nearer to an explosion than a spark. Perhaps it was more like the ever-growing universe than like a flame in that respect; it began not with a spark, but with a bang that moved wordlessly forth to consume the nothingness that contrasted its magnificence. Or perhaps it was as a flame, just one lit with slightly different means; was Zim's arrival like the arrival of a large bomb, exploding into both their lives and spreading to a constant flame only after that?
Whatever the case, the first time they had shared that look, it had been an explosion. That had been years and years ago, in Ms. Bitters's class.
Perhaps the spark had been the look that Dib gave Zim when he first laid eyes on the alien invader. That look of pure shock, of disbelief... That look had been the spark, the predecessor. But that look was as the ancestor of all life, afloat in the primordial soup: it sowed its seeds and quickly faded to obscurity. Its descendant was the explosion that really started it all; its descendant had something that the spark had been too primitive to dream of.
It was in the look Zim gave Dib when Zim caught on that the other students didn't know a thing about his mission, that Dib was the only one who knew. That look of annoyance and of anger, of the faintest drop of intrigue and of a risen challenge. It was the look that printed Dib's face into Zim's memory for the remainder of time, it was the look that falsely accused Dib with its wordless claims of "I will always hate you" and "You are so far beneath me." It was the look that marked the biggest turning point Zim's life had ever had.
And it was in the look that Dib gave Zim when he likewise realized that he would not be able to get the other children to see the truth right there and then. It was in the look with which he studied the alien for the first time, forcing a dominance to his face to hide the medley of thoughts behind the lenses of his glasses. The intrigue and the fascination reserved in Dib's heart for only someone like Zim, for only an alien. And that intrigue mixed with a deep-seeded resentment that spoke out against the one that would be the object of Dib's obsession for the rest of his days, the resentment that clearly said "I am this planet's defender" and "You will be stopped."
It was in both those looks, and more than that, it was in the fiery tempest that sparked at the meeting point of both their gazes and that engulfed them into a singular world known only to them from which there would be no escape. It was forced hatred, it was intrigue, it was conflict, it was mutual, and most of all, it was a challenge. It was the very first time they challenged each other, spoke out against each other with their eyes that said "I dare you to attack, I just dare you to attack!"
And that was where it all started, the explosion that sparked a forest fire over a limitless forest of passion that would never cease to throw itself to the flames to further ignite itself. It was the look that evolved into dozens of looks that were all the same save for point anomalies that added up over time until the look could no longer be called the same; it was the look that meant so much to them and that at the same time they would have given anything to be rid of forever.
For this was not the look they gave each other in the midst of their fights, full of excitement and passion. This was the look of empty anticipation that they gave each other from across the street, across the playground, across the cafeteria, across the classroom.
Almost always across the classroom.
The very mutual look that spoke concepts profound in their sheer simplicity in the span of seconds, the glare they shot between them in the midst of lectures. The look Zim would shoot Dib with eyes that were narrowed spitefully but devoid of hatred; his gaze filled itself instead with a seething impatience. The sort of challenging impatience that came seconds or moments or hours or days before a fight that felt so close that he could taste it teasing all his senses.
It was the look Dib would shoot Zim with a profound suspicion at what tactics the alien could possibly devise for their next confrontation, even though the mind behind his eyes knew that Zim's strategies didn't matter as much as his own impatience mattered. They were almost completely in tune now; Dib could taste the upcoming fight on the tip of his tongue just as easily as Zim could, and it was the taste of opportunity, for every confrontation provided yet another chance at victory.
And for all their impatience and for all their hope at victory, their gazes were only capable of effectively sending one clear message, and it burned itself into each other's minds with such profound intensity that it was staggering; it was a pure challenge. It was clear to both of them, they wanted to fight! They wanted to confront each other right there and then in the classroom, and they wanted their respective chances at victory; they needed it. And so their gazes spoke, not a conversation or an exchange, but a chorus of two silent voices screaming amidst the cacophony of impatience, "What are you waiting for?!"
It drove them insane, absolutely insane, that they couldn't simply act upon that very basic desire burning within them; what was skool to stand in the way of their battles?! How could they simply sit there in the midst of all these idiots while the Earth turned idly along as though they weren't directly responsible for its fate, whatever that may be?! And why, oh damnit, why wouldn't one of them just do something about it? They needed the fight, they needed the confrontation, they needed the conflict, they needed the victory!
And the need fueled their passion and the passion stood adamant, shaking wildly like trees pushed around by the chaotic fumes of the fire that thrived among them. And that never changed, no matter how much the look evolved, no matter how subdued the passion became. For even if the passion curled up like fallen leaves and wrapped around itself like the wick of a candle and even if the flame became less chaotic, the need never faltered and the passion was just as intense as it had been in the explosion that started it all; it was merely less anarchical, more cautious. Cautious, even if caution had never been their way before; forest fires are difficult at best to put out, and when one finally succeeds, one must be cautious to make sure the dying embers don't stir one up anew.
And so the look they shared from across the classroom changed; still filled with need and longing and a silent, mutual challenge, it grew weary and quiet. Impatience no longer screamed their challenge to the heavens through the heavy silence, eyes no longer narrowed in shrewd suspicion but stood open and guarded by doubt. There was a reluctance; a dread that filled the space between themselves and their next confrontation, their next conflict... What need was there left of this conflict when the world was no longer in danger? When Zim's need to overtake the Earth still stood matched with Dib's need to protect the humans, not as equally desperate bonfires but as hot, smoldering coals deep within the charred wood of old flames? A deep longing had long since doused those flames and the longing was as mutual as anything and they knew it; they were almost too much the same by then. Their emotions deeply in tune with one another's, their evolved looks close to mirrors of each other differed only in the difference inherent in the authoritarian fact that Dib was Dib and Zim was Zim. And those looks, it seemed all they held in those days was longing, longing that pleaded their challenge to each other in harsh and haughty silent words like only they knew how to share: "Why won't you stop this?"
They needed something more back then, something more than the fights and the forest fires and the anger sparking every time their eyes met. They felt it; they felt each other feel it; they knew what it was—they only couldn't attain it then. It took time to clear the forest floor of dying embers when the forest of their passion was so vast as theirs. So they shared those looks, those looks of pleading and of longing every day in class and after school and in every space between their arguments and only deep in their hearts beneath the red-hot ashes of old fires did they truly know what those looks meant. That was six months ago.
But even now, even now that they have everything that longing ever demanded of them, every flavor of victory their impatience ever screamed for, even now as Dib walks out to greet Zim on the stairs outside the Hi Skool they share that look. It's brief, it's subtle as the smoldering tip of an incense stick, but the passion and intensity is there in the mutual look they've come to know as well as they've come to know each other. Passion does not fade, and when passion stands tall, proud, and stubborn as theirs always has, the wounds of old fires are free to go unnoticed in the infinite forest where passion grows; those wounds don't even reflect through the warm glow filtering through their eyes as though through new spring-grown foliage. It becomes a look of desire, a look of fondness and affection, a look that whispers huskily against Dib's ear and Zim's antenna to be patient just a moment longer, another moment, another moment until they reach the deep isolation of Zim's base.
It is a look that has finally finished evolving, a look they'll share for the rest of their lives together. It is the only kind of meaningful look they could ever share in the unwanted company of others, but it is a look custom-tailored to fit them as perfectly as it had ever fit them, from the moment it had been born between them.
And for all its changes, it's been the same look all this time, guiding them through time, tying them together.