Yep. It's short. Very short. Er, very very short. I know it is, feel free to toss fish and other throwable objects at my head. It's just maintenance, though, what I was stuck on, so now that I've finished this up I'm overflowing with creativity n' stuff. Everything after this should probably be cake. Mmm, cake…er, anyways. Yes. The fic. Right.
Disclaimer: for those with one brain cell in the audience; I don't own Invader Zim or any of its characters. To help you understand, I'll list off the differences between me and JV. First one: I'm female. He's male. Second; my initials are S.L. and his are J.V. three: he's got a trench coat. …wait, I have a trench coat too. Ah well, whatever, the conclusion is, I don't own IZ.
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Dib was bored. It was worse than ever, the boredom. Often it hit him while he was in skool, but it was worse now. Depression made everything worse, really, dreaming, sleeping, living…
Today it wasn't raining. The sky was still a dark purplish gray, threatening with impending rainfall that never came. It was slightly interesting to Dib that it didn't rain; he hadn't sincerely cried since the last time it rained. Coincidence, he guessed.
Mrs. Bitters' normal drone of 'doomed' went unaffected, only serving to annoy those with short tempers and to make the rest lose interest quickly. To Dib, it meant nothing. He stared out the window idly, insanely bored, almost.
Zim was doing something completely different, himself. The same mix of depression VS boredom, but with something else, a thoughtfulness that had accompanied all of Zim's thoughts since he figured out he didn't entirely want to destroy The Dib anymore. Zim was writing something in an unpracticed hand, but not in English, in Irken.
Finally, Mrs. Bitters finished up with her Doom-ing. Silence echoed in the classroom for about five seconds, and then the lunch bell rang. Jumping up, the majority of the class ran out of the classroom, trampling some other children in the process.
Zim and Dib, on the other hand, waited for the flood of kids to abate before getting up and leaving the classroom, Zim grabbing the piece of paper he wrote all over and crumpling it up.
All the humans and one Irken crowded into the dirty cafeteria with toxic food, each clique getting their food and sitting at the designated table, ignoring everybody else as they picked away at the food on the trays, talking about nothing of importance.
Zim, who of course, didn't really belong to a clique, was left to find an empty table for the time he was allowed out of class. The Irken found one, sitting down and sliding his tray of disgusting cafeteria food into the table, to do absolutely nothing.
Dib was silent, holding his tray of cafeteria food and walking, trying to find an empty seat, any seat, on automatic. Staring at a light in the ceiling idly, Dib was lost in memories, memories of how much he missed his family, before and after the death of his mother, even though after that time his family became almost nonexistent. Each family member leaving the other to their own ways of dealing with the grief when they actually needed to grow together instead of apart.
Still idly staring at the ceiling light, Dib found an empty seat, sliding into it and pushing his tray away. He really didn't feel like eating.
"I've heard that staring into a light isn't the best thing for your race's eyes, Dib-human." Dib heard Zim comment softly. Blinking, Dib shook himself back into reality. He was sitting next to Zim, he realized. Dib resisted the urge to jump up and go to a different table.
Neither the human nor the alien looked at each other, instead they vouched to stare at the toxic substance that was called 'food' in the skool.
"Why would you care, Zim?" Dib replied, the venom in his voice most definitely less potent than before.
Zim was silent for a moment, thinking. "No reason." The alien shrugged, counterfeiting an indifferent tone of voice.
There was a moment of silence, more companionable than tense, where both beings prodded at the so-called food. The chatter around them was just a backdrop, nothing was of real importance in cafeteria conversations anyways.
"So." Dib broke the silence, poking something that looked vaguely like meats in gravy around part of his tray. "Why were you having a breakdown yesterday?"
Zim immediately stiffened. He dropped the fork he had been poking the food with and retracted his hands, preferring to hide them under the table. The Irken looked like he'd rather be asked anything but that right now.
Dib glanced at Zim, and sighed, deciding that he might as well change the subject. "Er. How's the mission, any new plans to obliterate humanity?"
"There is no mission."
"What?" Dib was confused now. No mission? What were all those fights in the past for, then? Nothing? And outlet for anger, a plot for Zim to get the planet and keep it for himself? What?
Zim lowered his gaze, hanging his head. "There. Is. No. Mission. Can your inferior human ear thingies not hear correctly?" Zim tried to reply with vehemence, but failed grandly.
A small flame of anger leapt up in Dib's chest, and he was thankful for the varied emotion. "Then what were all the attempts on my life for, huh?!"
The Irken was silent for a moment. He took a breath before laughing with no mirth, a dry, almost choking laugh. "They were a mistake. On my part. Everything was a," Zim took another breath, obviously having a problem with applying the word to him, "a huge mistake."
Dib narrowed his eyes, somewhere in the back of his mind, happy for the distraction, to be able to worry and think about a different issue. Zim was acting just plain wrong. "What happened?" It was more of a command for an answer, not as much a question.
"I was abandoned. My existence is a joke. That's all." Zim grumbled, emotion making his voice crack, crossing his arms and glaring at the closest person to him other than Dib.
Dib was now sorry he brought the subject up. He sighed, hanging his head as well and glaring at his food. The silence was resumed. This time it had a depressing tinge to it.
Two creatures, both shunned by their own societies, sat in each other's company, not saying a word. And for once it felt okay to be morose for the two beings who had always been told the very feeling was wrong.