Author's Notes: Reviews are appreciated, but, of course, not necessary. Update 5-10-04: Revised.
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It was raining.
However, the rain was beautiful to him.
Walking along the sidewalk of the outer city, the late-spring humidity in the air causing a mist to form about him as he walked, one Dib was lost in thought - something he often was, if he wasn't talking to himself, or focused elsewhere. As of late, he had decided to mature beyond constantly stalking the seemingly omnipresent Zim, and trying to convince people besides himself that 'unreal' (as his father put it) science wasn't the fantasy they thought it was.
Frankly, he didn't think they were worth it anymore. They didn't really listen... they never had, and it was both ironic and amusing that he had failed to get that through his head beforehand. No matter, though, they could fight their own fights. For now, he was sticking to himself, working on building up mental and emotional shields to fend off the pain that had plagued him recently.
Zim.
Dib had never realized how... beautiful he was.
Then again, he hadn't bothered to look for it before, had he? He'd been blinded by his own stubborness. False hate, really. But ever since 'space boy' had laid off tormenting his enemy, for some reason or another, Dib had backed off too. Who knew why - for all anyone else had cared, the two could have gone on forever, or better yet, fought eachother to the death. However, Dib found himself questioning whether or not 'anyone else' mattered in the first place.
An overgrown, silky-soft scythe of black hair hung in his face. It didn't bother him much, if at all, nor did his somewhat foggy glasses, and out of habit he adjusted them to sit closer to his eyes. His gaze had been fixated to the ground as he walked, but he certainly appreciated being able to see where he had been going. One more step, and he froze, looking up wistfully.
/His/ house. It didn't bother him so much anymore, not like it had used to... Occasionally, he'd wonder whether or not Zim cared at all, whether about his house, or anything else, besides his eradication. Zim may have had backed off, but most likely for some shady reason, and he'd been eyeing Dib more warily than ever, now that he had ceased his onslaught, probably suspicious that Dib had been planning something himself.
He was so very wrong.
The sky darkened to a slate gray. Rain was falling a bit harder now, and the sound of thunder rolled off in the distance. 'Well, I had better... get this over with,' thought the rain-soaked being that was Dib, 'before I go even crazier than I am now.' In defiance of his surroundings and mood, a subtle, humorless smirk curled the left side of his mouth. So, neglecting the possibility that Zim wouldn't even come to the door due to the rain, he strode forward.
It didn't take him long to reach the opposite side of the large asphalt circle. Almost surprisingly, the gnomes in Zim's overexaggerated front yard didn't make a move to attack him as he padded up the stone walkway. He hesitated a moment. He really had wanted to do this, to say something, anything to alert the alien of his affections, even if it cost him any chance he might've had, but - should've he? Doubtless Zim wouldn't come near him after he confessed...?
Well, maybe that was pushing it a bit too far. Reminding himself to not be so paranoid and cynical (although the reminder was probably in vain, as if he could help it), he raised a pallid hand, extended a single fine finger, and pressed the doorbell. Instinctively cringing and poising himself for any possible ambushes, a hint of relief washed over him like the raindrops pouring from the sky as he realized there weren't any - at least, not yet.
The door opened a crack, and Dib raised a black brow as he was met by the glowing, flourescent eyes of Gir. The ever-absentminded little robot had failed to put on his lime green dog suit, but then, it didn't really matter much - Dib had seen both of them free of disguise. Before he had even thought of saying a word, Gir piped up, "Hi there, cute thing!" Er, what? ... oh. Dib had failed to realize the slight nervous blush on his cheeks and how dishevelled the rain had made him look.
Apparently, Gir shared the view that some other people did on looking 'caught in the rain'. "Eh. Hello, Gir." Trying his best to gain some level of composure, and noting that attention had been granted with a slight head-tilt and a blank-but-delighted look, he continued, "Sorry for the interruption, but, where's Zim?"
As if on cue, the problem child barked out, "GIR! Why is there a meatbag on my doorstep?!" Dib rolled his dark eyes, as Gir turned to face Zim.
"Maste-e-er! He was-a lookin' for you!" With a characteristic hybrid between a scream and a giggle, he launched himself towards his 'owner', who had by now stepped cautiously closer, latching himself to Zim's arm half protectively and half out of defense for Dib. Pulling his best puppy-eyes face, Gir stage-whispered, "Don't hurt him," with tears from who-knows-where appearing in his lamplike orbs and a slight squeak, "please?"
With a surprising display of respect, the green-skinned figure seemed to regard the silver one, and bestowed upon him a curt nod, but no words. Looking up again, eyes narrowing, Zim raised his chin and spoke to his was-nemesis. "Dib-beast. What do you want, and why must you tell me when it's raining?" Apparently, by the melodramatic tone he had placed on the word 'raining', he never quite had gotten used to it.
Dib inclined his head to look down the amazingly small distance towards Zim. Gravity must have had an effect on him, or something like that, because he was only about an inch shorter than the human. Then again, Dib hadn't grown that tall, anyway. Gauging what exactly he could have said as a suitable explanation, he finally responded, far more bluntly than he had intended to. "Zim... I - I love you." Out of all the reactions he could have gotten, what he got certainly... wasn't it.
"What?" The voice was emotionless, not indicative of anything at all. Dib winced, then paused for a moment, startled at the fact that it had been, well, a question. Not a death ray, not a strike, not even silence. A question. Perhaps Zim was giving him time to rectify his wording, to make it not so obvious. Or perhaps he was in denial...
"Love, Zim. I ... love you." For some reason, Dib didn't bother changing the phrase. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, Zim soon recollected his wits and understood. Cue narrowing of ruby eyes and a sound of obvious indignance. Gir even looked on in blatant, if slightly zoned disbelief, a rare thing for his usually carefree self.
"Irken invaders know not of this - love, as you put it," hissed the self-titled invader, "nor do many Irkens at all, particularly interspecies and intergender." Zim apathetically noted the crestfallen look in his adversary's eyes, though his facial expression hadn't changed at all. He hid his own inner battle behind a mask of indifference.
It wasn't like he was an Irken anymore, anyway. Somehow, although seemingly impossible, he had gradually picked up on the Tallests' dislike for him, and, of course, not long after he'd gotten the idea into his skull, they had called him on his transmission device and broken the news, if a bit rudely. What alarmed him the most was that he hadn't really cared.
Call it arrogance, but really, if they didn't want the mighty Zim, it was their loss. So... in truth, matters of species and gender didn't actually matter anymore... but this was Dib professing love, for goodness sake! Dib, the one who wanted nothing better to get him on an autopsy table, the one who supposedly hated him... it was unreal.
Dib had picked up on Zim's conflict, and, surpressing hurt and possible tears, simply said "I'm sorry." He knew emotion swirled in his shadowy chocolate eyes, no matter how much he tried to act as if it hadn't hurt. As if he were... lying, playing some cruel trick on the being whom he'd once seen as a great threat... but he wasn't, and the subtle waver in his voice showed it. What really hurt, though, was that Zim's own façade betrayed nothing.
Unlike his own. Faced with anything or anyone else, he could've hidden himself - but Zim affected him too much for his barriers to work. Why did it have to be this way? Why not someone else? 'Because no one else would be worth it,' something within reminded him. 'You aren't so obsessed with anyone else. There's a fine line between love and hate, Dib,' and, as he looked over Zim's face once more, 'and, of course, the opposite of either is apathy...'
He cut his inner monologue short. With a sigh, he reached gently forward and grasped the other's left hand with his own, leaning down and placing upon it a chaste, melancholy kiss. He looked up through his black eyelashes at Zim, who didn't openly react and ignored the small burning sensation that Dib's lips and the rain had caused on his hand. "... I'm sorry, Zim. I really am."
For himself, for Zim's inability to feel, for everything.
Dib dropped his opposite's hand, and it returned to its master's side, where Gir stood. With a slight, resolute nod of his head, he turned away, trenchcoat swishing slightly about his boots. The door closed behind him, albeit gently, the gesture amplified by his current state as a declaration of rejection - and he trudged back home, tears hidden by the rain.
---
---
It was raining.
However, the rain was beautiful to him.
Walking along the sidewalk of the outer city, the late-spring humidity in the air causing a mist to form about him as he walked, one Dib was lost in thought - something he often was, if he wasn't talking to himself, or focused elsewhere. As of late, he had decided to mature beyond constantly stalking the seemingly omnipresent Zim, and trying to convince people besides himself that 'unreal' (as his father put it) science wasn't the fantasy they thought it was.
Frankly, he didn't think they were worth it anymore. They didn't really listen... they never had, and it was both ironic and amusing that he had failed to get that through his head beforehand. No matter, though, they could fight their own fights. For now, he was sticking to himself, working on building up mental and emotional shields to fend off the pain that had plagued him recently.
Zim.
Dib had never realized how... beautiful he was.
Then again, he hadn't bothered to look for it before, had he? He'd been blinded by his own stubborness. False hate, really. But ever since 'space boy' had laid off tormenting his enemy, for some reason or another, Dib had backed off too. Who knew why - for all anyone else had cared, the two could have gone on forever, or better yet, fought eachother to the death. However, Dib found himself questioning whether or not 'anyone else' mattered in the first place.
An overgrown, silky-soft scythe of black hair hung in his face. It didn't bother him much, if at all, nor did his somewhat foggy glasses, and out of habit he adjusted them to sit closer to his eyes. His gaze had been fixated to the ground as he walked, but he certainly appreciated being able to see where he had been going. One more step, and he froze, looking up wistfully.
/His/ house. It didn't bother him so much anymore, not like it had used to... Occasionally, he'd wonder whether or not Zim cared at all, whether about his house, or anything else, besides his eradication. Zim may have had backed off, but most likely for some shady reason, and he'd been eyeing Dib more warily than ever, now that he had ceased his onslaught, probably suspicious that Dib had been planning something himself.
He was so very wrong.
The sky darkened to a slate gray. Rain was falling a bit harder now, and the sound of thunder rolled off in the distance. 'Well, I had better... get this over with,' thought the rain-soaked being that was Dib, 'before I go even crazier than I am now.' In defiance of his surroundings and mood, a subtle, humorless smirk curled the left side of his mouth. So, neglecting the possibility that Zim wouldn't even come to the door due to the rain, he strode forward.
It didn't take him long to reach the opposite side of the large asphalt circle. Almost surprisingly, the gnomes in Zim's overexaggerated front yard didn't make a move to attack him as he padded up the stone walkway. He hesitated a moment. He really had wanted to do this, to say something, anything to alert the alien of his affections, even if it cost him any chance he might've had, but - should've he? Doubtless Zim wouldn't come near him after he confessed...?
Well, maybe that was pushing it a bit too far. Reminding himself to not be so paranoid and cynical (although the reminder was probably in vain, as if he could help it), he raised a pallid hand, extended a single fine finger, and pressed the doorbell. Instinctively cringing and poising himself for any possible ambushes, a hint of relief washed over him like the raindrops pouring from the sky as he realized there weren't any - at least, not yet.
The door opened a crack, and Dib raised a black brow as he was met by the glowing, flourescent eyes of Gir. The ever-absentminded little robot had failed to put on his lime green dog suit, but then, it didn't really matter much - Dib had seen both of them free of disguise. Before he had even thought of saying a word, Gir piped up, "Hi there, cute thing!" Er, what? ... oh. Dib had failed to realize the slight nervous blush on his cheeks and how dishevelled the rain had made him look.
Apparently, Gir shared the view that some other people did on looking 'caught in the rain'. "Eh. Hello, Gir." Trying his best to gain some level of composure, and noting that attention had been granted with a slight head-tilt and a blank-but-delighted look, he continued, "Sorry for the interruption, but, where's Zim?"
As if on cue, the problem child barked out, "GIR! Why is there a meatbag on my doorstep?!" Dib rolled his dark eyes, as Gir turned to face Zim.
"Maste-e-er! He was-a lookin' for you!" With a characteristic hybrid between a scream and a giggle, he launched himself towards his 'owner', who had by now stepped cautiously closer, latching himself to Zim's arm half protectively and half out of defense for Dib. Pulling his best puppy-eyes face, Gir stage-whispered, "Don't hurt him," with tears from who-knows-where appearing in his lamplike orbs and a slight squeak, "please?"
With a surprising display of respect, the green-skinned figure seemed to regard the silver one, and bestowed upon him a curt nod, but no words. Looking up again, eyes narrowing, Zim raised his chin and spoke to his was-nemesis. "Dib-beast. What do you want, and why must you tell me when it's raining?" Apparently, by the melodramatic tone he had placed on the word 'raining', he never quite had gotten used to it.
Dib inclined his head to look down the amazingly small distance towards Zim. Gravity must have had an effect on him, or something like that, because he was only about an inch shorter than the human. Then again, Dib hadn't grown that tall, anyway. Gauging what exactly he could have said as a suitable explanation, he finally responded, far more bluntly than he had intended to. "Zim... I - I love you." Out of all the reactions he could have gotten, what he got certainly... wasn't it.
"What?" The voice was emotionless, not indicative of anything at all. Dib winced, then paused for a moment, startled at the fact that it had been, well, a question. Not a death ray, not a strike, not even silence. A question. Perhaps Zim was giving him time to rectify his wording, to make it not so obvious. Or perhaps he was in denial...
"Love, Zim. I ... love you." For some reason, Dib didn't bother changing the phrase. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, Zim soon recollected his wits and understood. Cue narrowing of ruby eyes and a sound of obvious indignance. Gir even looked on in blatant, if slightly zoned disbelief, a rare thing for his usually carefree self.
"Irken invaders know not of this - love, as you put it," hissed the self-titled invader, "nor do many Irkens at all, particularly interspecies and intergender." Zim apathetically noted the crestfallen look in his adversary's eyes, though his facial expression hadn't changed at all. He hid his own inner battle behind a mask of indifference.
It wasn't like he was an Irken anymore, anyway. Somehow, although seemingly impossible, he had gradually picked up on the Tallests' dislike for him, and, of course, not long after he'd gotten the idea into his skull, they had called him on his transmission device and broken the news, if a bit rudely. What alarmed him the most was that he hadn't really cared.
Call it arrogance, but really, if they didn't want the mighty Zim, it was their loss. So... in truth, matters of species and gender didn't actually matter anymore... but this was Dib professing love, for goodness sake! Dib, the one who wanted nothing better to get him on an autopsy table, the one who supposedly hated him... it was unreal.
Dib had picked up on Zim's conflict, and, surpressing hurt and possible tears, simply said "I'm sorry." He knew emotion swirled in his shadowy chocolate eyes, no matter how much he tried to act as if it hadn't hurt. As if he were... lying, playing some cruel trick on the being whom he'd once seen as a great threat... but he wasn't, and the subtle waver in his voice showed it. What really hurt, though, was that Zim's own façade betrayed nothing.
Unlike his own. Faced with anything or anyone else, he could've hidden himself - but Zim affected him too much for his barriers to work. Why did it have to be this way? Why not someone else? 'Because no one else would be worth it,' something within reminded him. 'You aren't so obsessed with anyone else. There's a fine line between love and hate, Dib,' and, as he looked over Zim's face once more, 'and, of course, the opposite of either is apathy...'
He cut his inner monologue short. With a sigh, he reached gently forward and grasped the other's left hand with his own, leaning down and placing upon it a chaste, melancholy kiss. He looked up through his black eyelashes at Zim, who didn't openly react and ignored the small burning sensation that Dib's lips and the rain had caused on his hand. "... I'm sorry, Zim. I really am."
For himself, for Zim's inability to feel, for everything.
Dib dropped his opposite's hand, and it returned to its master's side, where Gir stood. With a slight, resolute nod of his head, he turned away, trenchcoat swishing slightly about his boots. The door closed behind him, albeit gently, the gesture amplified by his current state as a declaration of rejection - and he trudged back home, tears hidden by the rain.
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