Finding Your Feelings
The Last Time I Knew You
(This does conflict with the series' version of the Daria/Tom breakup, but I'd always imagined it as a more peaceful understanding between them)
They were sitting in the pizza place they always sat in. Across from each other, the way they always had. In fact, to an outsider, it would appear that nothing was wrong.
Both of them desperately wished to be an outsider again.
"Look, I..." Tom started to say.
"Tom, I..." Daria spoke at the same time.
There was nervous laughter, mostly to break the silence.
"Go ahead, Tom."
"It's really nothing important... you go ahead."
Daria sighed. "No. Really. I..." she paused, and her harsh deadpan softened, just a little, so most other people wouldn't even have noticed, "I'd like to know what's on your mind."
"I don't quite know what I was about to say." He admitted. "I was just trying to break the silence."
"Yeah. I know."
"You seem quieter than usual, lately." He observed, just a little too casually.
"I could say the same for you, Tom. It's not like either of us have been terribly verbose lately." He looked up at her. She was staring raptly at the pizza. Probably to avoid looking at him. No, not even probably: definitely. He could see her watching him out of the corner of her eye, like she always did when she got too nervous.
"Do you think that might be a problem?" he tried to keep his tone casual, but she caught the implication. Her head snapped up, and he saw a hint of surprise flicker over her eyes, but her overall expression was unchanged.
"How do you mean?"
"I mean, don't you think we should be able to talk?"
She looked back at the pizza. "Well... we might be able to talk... if there was something to talk about..."
His eyes widened. That amounted to a mental slap on the face. At least as he saw it. "Is it me?" he said quietly.
She sighed, but looked up at him, a bit... sentimentally? "No... not exactly. I think... I think we might just have run out of things to say to each other. I think we've... well, grown out of each other."
"Grown out of each other?" His chest tightened. He didn't want to hear what she was saying, he couldn't agree with what she was saying... "We've only been going out for what, a few months?"
No, he didn't want to hear it, but somehow, her words resonated with him. He had lost sight of all the things they'd had in common, and her wonderful differences seemed so much bigger. So much more devastatingly separating. And he'd kind of assumed she felt the same way. But admitting such an idea was very different than just thinking it. Admitting it made it irreversible.
"I know. But I'm not taking time into account." She smirked, a tiny bit, trying to bring in some humor. "I'd always heard these things were based on emotions, not logic, and it sounds to me like you're trying to logic me out of this." There was a pause. "I'm assuming you do know where this is going?"
Tom paused. How to answer this? He could tell the truth, and let this die right here, barely after it had begun. Or he could lie, and try to pull it along until it gained its sparkling appeal back from whatever had taken it. But what did he want? He had to admit to himself, his eye had been wandering more than usual, but his thoughts rested more on himself, and where he was going in life. And these thoughts had never included her. Maybe he should just admit that they were never meant to include her. "I guess I do." He said quietly. "I suppose you're right. But I want you to know I'm not saying that for the reasons you might think."
She raised an eyebrow at him, questioningly. "I guess we just have grown out of each other. We've learned what we can from each other. But I want you to know I still care about you. You're a good friend, Daria, you always have been. And you're really a great girl. But I guess... you're just not meant to be my girl."
A faux-shocked look spread across her face. "I was hoping perhaps I could be my own girl."
He laughed, a richer laugh this time, perhaps because this time there was nothing to hide. "I guess you always will be your own girl. That's one of the things I sincerely hope will never change." He stood up, feeling released, renewed. "Well, I should leave you to your peace of pizza." She smirked at his pun, and he felt gratified.
"You don't have to go." She told him, more good-naturedly than was normal for her, which, granted, wasn't much. "There's more peace now then there was when you got here."
"I know." He smiled. "But I don't have to stay either." He walked out of the pizza shop.
"You weren't half as bold, Daria, the last time I knew you." He whispered to himself. "I hope that's partially my fault. Maybe I did do you some good." And his sleep that night was more tranquil and dreamless than any night he remembered.
(I sorely apologize for having to repost this, but the last time it came out all jumbled together. I didn't rewrite anything, but you may want to reread it because it's clearer this time.)
The Last Time I Knew You
(This does conflict with the series' version of the Daria/Tom breakup, but I'd always imagined it as a more peaceful understanding between them)
They were sitting in the pizza place they always sat in. Across from each other, the way they always had. In fact, to an outsider, it would appear that nothing was wrong.
Both of them desperately wished to be an outsider again.
"Look, I..." Tom started to say.
"Tom, I..." Daria spoke at the same time.
There was nervous laughter, mostly to break the silence.
"Go ahead, Tom."
"It's really nothing important... you go ahead."
Daria sighed. "No. Really. I..." she paused, and her harsh deadpan softened, just a little, so most other people wouldn't even have noticed, "I'd like to know what's on your mind."
"I don't quite know what I was about to say." He admitted. "I was just trying to break the silence."
"Yeah. I know."
"You seem quieter than usual, lately." He observed, just a little too casually.
"I could say the same for you, Tom. It's not like either of us have been terribly verbose lately." He looked up at her. She was staring raptly at the pizza. Probably to avoid looking at him. No, not even probably: definitely. He could see her watching him out of the corner of her eye, like she always did when she got too nervous.
"Do you think that might be a problem?" he tried to keep his tone casual, but she caught the implication. Her head snapped up, and he saw a hint of surprise flicker over her eyes, but her overall expression was unchanged.
"How do you mean?"
"I mean, don't you think we should be able to talk?"
She looked back at the pizza. "Well... we might be able to talk... if there was something to talk about..."
His eyes widened. That amounted to a mental slap on the face. At least as he saw it. "Is it me?" he said quietly.
She sighed, but looked up at him, a bit... sentimentally? "No... not exactly. I think... I think we might just have run out of things to say to each other. I think we've... well, grown out of each other."
"Grown out of each other?" His chest tightened. He didn't want to hear what she was saying, he couldn't agree with what she was saying... "We've only been going out for what, a few months?"
No, he didn't want to hear it, but somehow, her words resonated with him. He had lost sight of all the things they'd had in common, and her wonderful differences seemed so much bigger. So much more devastatingly separating. And he'd kind of assumed she felt the same way. But admitting such an idea was very different than just thinking it. Admitting it made it irreversible.
"I know. But I'm not taking time into account." She smirked, a tiny bit, trying to bring in some humor. "I'd always heard these things were based on emotions, not logic, and it sounds to me like you're trying to logic me out of this." There was a pause. "I'm assuming you do know where this is going?"
Tom paused. How to answer this? He could tell the truth, and let this die right here, barely after it had begun. Or he could lie, and try to pull it along until it gained its sparkling appeal back from whatever had taken it. But what did he want? He had to admit to himself, his eye had been wandering more than usual, but his thoughts rested more on himself, and where he was going in life. And these thoughts had never included her. Maybe he should just admit that they were never meant to include her. "I guess I do." He said quietly. "I suppose you're right. But I want you to know I'm not saying that for the reasons you might think."
She raised an eyebrow at him, questioningly. "I guess we just have grown out of each other. We've learned what we can from each other. But I want you to know I still care about you. You're a good friend, Daria, you always have been. And you're really a great girl. But I guess... you're just not meant to be my girl."
A faux-shocked look spread across her face. "I was hoping perhaps I could be my own girl."
He laughed, a richer laugh this time, perhaps because this time there was nothing to hide. "I guess you always will be your own girl. That's one of the things I sincerely hope will never change." He stood up, feeling released, renewed. "Well, I should leave you to your peace of pizza." She smirked at his pun, and he felt gratified.
"You don't have to go." She told him, more good-naturedly than was normal for her, which, granted, wasn't much. "There's more peace now then there was when you got here."
"I know." He smiled. "But I don't have to stay either." He walked out of the pizza shop.
"You weren't half as bold, Daria, the last time I knew you." He whispered to himself. "I hope that's partially my fault. Maybe I did do you some good." And his sleep that night was more tranquil and dreamless than any night he remembered.
(I sorely apologize for having to repost this, but the last time it came out all jumbled together. I didn't rewrite anything, but you may want to reread it because it's clearer this time.)
