Disclaimer: I don't own Daria. Wish I did.
A/N: Alright, it's my first Daria fic but it's been brewing for a while. I'm sorry if the charries seem a bit OOC- I'm trying my best to keep it IC. And I'm also sorry if drug usage offends anyone. I just had a hunch about it. Anyways, if drug usage DOES offend you, then don't read this. All in good intentions! Anyways, love you guys, and please review! LONG LIVE DARIA AND TRENT!
What Eyes Don't SeePart One
"Fine Tom! Why don't you get some pills for that sick, twisted head of yours!"
Daria Morgendorffer slammed the phone back onto the receiver and , for the first time since she'd left home for college those two summers ago, began to cry. Her outburst of emotion was short-lived however, as she retained control over herself and her tears. Get a grip Morgendorffer she told herself He's just a sick guy. Thinking about him though made her want to start crying again. But there was no way in hell she'd let herself lose control again. She'd shed a few tears. And that was all she'd allow herself to.
Daria sat down on her old bed, in the room that had once belonged to her when she still lived here at the Morgendorffer residence. Nothing had changed, nothing had been moved, although things did seem a bit dustier. All this was unnoticed however, as Daria had suddenly receded back to the stoic, distant part of her mind. That was how she dealt with pain. And it had always worked. But for some reason, it wasn't working as quickly as it should have.
College had changed little about Daria- she still help her same cynical views on the world and people around her. In fact, college probably helped solidify those thoughts. After a year at Raft, Daria had had enough of the school and applied to a university in Chicago. Despite her unchanged views, however, she was physically, much different. So she had let her vanity get to her- it was the same as the contact lenses, all those years ago. Age had matured her look, but some things were left unchanged- the fact that she wore glasses, still, for example, though not quite the bulky ones she had always worn in high school. Her hair was less curly too, and cut with a razor instead of scissors, creating a messier, sharper, more butchered look. She liked it- it reminded her of a mental picture she had had of herself while writing an essay back in high school. She still had the story- a not so fictious narration of her family meeting for a card game in the not so distant future, where her parents were old and Quinn had seven thousand kids. As for clothes, she mostly wore pants now, as the weather in Chicago at the university was too windy to wear a skirt without the whole campus getting a free show, so Daria had ditched her skirts. Now, back in Lawndale, she'd probably pull out her retired clothing, now that she could wear them without worry. Right now, though, she wore simply jeans, her good old, faithful black combat boots underneath, and a long sleeved black shirt that was a bit tighter than anything she would have worn back in high school. No one couldn't help but notice she looked good. Considering the circumstances.
She couldn't believe Tom would have done this to her. Sure, they had kept their long-distance relationship after the whole fiasco her senior year, and they had pulled through some very tough problems. She thought that they were doing fine, considering they hardly ever saw each other. She didn't know why it would have been any surprise to her that she would find him and that girl in bed together. Daria supposed she had caught him off guard when she decided to greet him with a surprise visit, not telling him she was in town. She thought he would have liked the surprise. Guess I was wrong..It doesn't surprise me much, though. After all, that's how he and I started out- going behind his girlfriend's back. She didn't know why she didn't think it would, eventually, happen again.
Daria suddenly stood, a new, hard look on her face. Although she supposed she wouldn't get much sympathy from her old friend, she knew she had to try. Even though she had just seen her yesterday. Daria walked down stairs, determined to ignore anything that got in the way to her new destination. She passed by her car, in which she had driven to get to Lawndale, and began a fast stride down the sidewalk. Screw cars. It was just like back in high school.
Daria was walking to Casa Lane.
The sidewalk looked just like it always had, as well as the house itself, though, Daria noted, it looked a bit shabbier. Daria smiled- Casa Lane, her second home. She sighed inwardly, noting that she should have probably called first to see if anyone was home. But, she supposed, someone is always here. Plus, she could always wait. Then, she wondered distantly is Trent was there. She knew he still lived in Casa Lane, probably had no intention of doing otherwise, either, and wondered if she'd run into him. She hadn't seen him since she'd left, and God knew she missed him like crazy. She didn't like to admit it, but Daria didn't think she ever got over Trent, really. She had convinced herself, at one point, that she didn't care for him like that anymore. But once she had left for university, it all came back. She'd always like him like that, possibly even loved him. But she couldn't think about that now. All she knew was that Tom, her reality, her anchor, had betrayed and left her. She had to get Jane. She might lose it otherwise.
Daria walked up to the front door and knocked- the doorbell, she knew, was disconnected. When no one answered, she turned the handle, discovered it unlocked (What a surprise she mused) and carefully walked inside.
The living room looked exactly the same, bringing a warm nostalgia back to Daria. She knew that somewhere in the bowels of the house there was life- she heard thudding, dull music playing upstairs. Sounds like Trent's here… she thought. She swallowed and proceeded upstairs to Jane's room. She turned opened the door, hope written plainly on her face, and her heart fell as she discovered it empty and lacking in the person she needed to talk to now. She walked inside, closing the door behind her, and sat down on the messy bed. Daria noticed some new paintings on the wall, as well as old ones she remembered from high school. It was hard to forget all those times she sat in this very spot, watching Sick Sad World or reading a book while Jane stood next to her at the easel working on her latest art piece. And now, she was nowhere to be found. Well….that was a bit of a hyperbole. She was probably around at the Pizza King or at the movies, or a short cell-phone call away.
So why didn't Daria go find her? Apathy, probably. She had always had a bit of a problem with apathy. But right now it seemed particularly worse, and it was getting worse each minute. There was something growing inside her, gripping around her heart. She was suffocating, breathing harder each passing second. She was burning inside, her body was on fire. She would even smell the fires, her burning flesh…wait…what? Daria looked up into the air and sniffed-she could smell something, like a drifting smoke. She stood and walked into the hallway, where it was much stronger, and followed the scent until she found herself outside Trent's door.
A powdery dust was drifting out from underneath the door and it issued a strange, yet alluring scent, almost like nature. Daria swallowed and looked forward into the wood grain. Well…she might as well.
Daria knocked gently on the door, "Trent..?" she called. "Trent, it's Daria! Are you okay?"
Without hesitation Daria opened the door. Trent's room looked exactly as she remembered it- covered in piles of clothes and trash, posters pinned messily across the walls and ceiling, the messy bed with rumpled sheets. Only now a strange haze seemed to hang in the air, along with the scent that teased Daria's senses. And there was Trent, sitting in the middle of the room, his back against the bed, looked up at her.
"Hey Daria," he said, in his usual nonchalant voice, which seemed more articulate than usual, like he hadn't talked in a long time.
"Hey Trent," she replied, looking around, "Um…don't mind me asking…are you burning something?"
He chuckled, which inevitably turned into his hacking cough, "Kinda. Come, pull up some floor, let's talk."
Daria blinked but complied, sitting across from him on the floor. He was wearing his usual alternative style, bringing an inner smile to Daria. Good. He hasn't changed. That's something I might can count on.
"So Daria," he said, breaking her of her thoughts, "Haven't seen you in a while. Looking for Jane?"
"Yeah, actually. You know where she is?"
"Out. I think she went off with some dude like on a date or something. She'll be back later. Is something wrong?"
Daria looked down at the ground. She didn't know if she could or wanted to confide the past week's events to Trent. Sure, he was a really good friend of hers, but she felt like Jane was the right person to do that to. Jane would comfort her. She didn't know what Trent would do. So, instead of answering his question, she shifted the subject, "So…what have you been up to?"
"Nothing really," he said in that strange tone, like he had forgotten how to speak, "Mystik Spiral got signed to a Label and we're still pooling for ideas on songs. We've recorded a few already and we need some more for the album."
"Trent, you're kidding!" said Daria, truly amazed at his statement. She had always thought Mystik Spiral to be a bit hackneyed and unorganized when it came to their music and gigs, but to be signed to a label, that amazed her. And, strangely, made her happy. She had always worried that Trent and his band would go nowhere, that he would continue in his unemployment and go on to become nothing. But if this Label and album did well, he would be far from nothing. She hoped to God that that would be the case. Trent was too good of a person to be otherwise.
Trent smiled at Daria's statement, "Nope. I was kinda surprised when they offered to sign us. We were at the right place at the right time I guess."
"What happened?"
As Trent began to recount the story to Daria, she suddenly felt a bit of the pain that had gripped her before ebb away just a little. Her minds drifted away from Tom to the man sitting in front of her, with his nonchalant expression telling her the most exciting news of his entire life to her. She liked this. She liked being here with Trent. And that haze smelled so good….
"..Daria? Daria?"
"Huh?"
Daria started as if she had just been woken up.
"You kinda drifted off a bit."
She rubbed her eyes. The haze was effecting her, making her dull and slow.
"What is this smoke? It's making me feel funny," She blushed as she realized the stupidity in how she sounded. Even to herself she sounded dumb. Trent, however, gave a laugh.
"Yeah, I expected as much."
"What is it?" he voice now held a tinge of irritation, as she knew now he seemed to be evading the question. Trent sighed, laughing softly to himself, and pulled something out from behind him. It was a small glass object, long and thin like a pencil, which was just a bit smaller than this thing Trent held now. At one end it curved up like the bowl of a pipe, in which some burned substance was now. The color drained from Daria's face, "Don't tell me Trent…Is that…a pipe?"
Trent nodded amusement written plainly across his face.
"Is it a pipe pipe?"
Again, he nodded, his face now even more amused. Daria stared at it with a loss as to what to think. Trent? Smoking pot? Well, now that she thought about it, it didn't surprise her that much- the clueless ness, the calm, nonchalant attitude, the cough. It fascinated her. Daria had never done any drug before in her life. She didn't really think it was wrong or right. At college that was mostly what people did- drink and do drugs. She had never before thought that Trent was one to smoke pot, though. She didn't quite know how she felt about it. Part of Daria wanted to seize the thing right now and smoke all of it, just to get rid of all the pain. She couldn't be apathetic on her own; maybe that thing could help her.
Trent set the pipe down and studied Daria carefully, "What are you thinking about? You HAVE seen one of these, right?"
"Yeah, of course…I AM in college, you know."
Trent laughed which turned into his cough, "Right. You don't think it's wrong, do you? Cos, if it like, offends you or something, we can go downstairs or whatever…"
Daria couldn't help but chuckle at Trent. He sounded like he was completely wasted, "No, it doesn't bother me."
"Cool."
They sat in silence, though it was not quite as awkward as Daria would have thought it to be. Maybe the haze was starting to affect her more, now, as a serene kind of feeling came over her. She found herself staring at Trent, studying him and his movements. He wasn't particularly looking at her, and seemed to be drifting in and out of reality, but he occasionally gave Daria a look and a slight smile, which would have made the girl blush if circumstances hadn't have been different. She found that she wasn't even thinking about Tom anymore. Then, something came over her, and the words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them,
"Can I try some of that?"
To be continued...