#we've just passed the peak of the rollecoaster folks

[reynaruina]

(PT Dib AU) Grief

Chapter One: Morning After

The smell hit him first. Something roasting slowly in an oven. Chicken and... potatoes, perhaps?

It was a cozy, painfully homey smell, intermingling in the air with the distinct scent of Zim's house, filling Dib up with yearning and dread. It assaulted his nostrils enough to slowly pull him out of the dream world. However, even though Dib wasn't keen on returning to the sorrowful dream he'd been trapped inside all night, he wasn't too into the idea of waking up either. 

Against his better judgement, in spite of his impulse to bolt out the front door once again, Dib decided to stay put. He evened out his breathing and lay still, eyes loosely closed, trying his best to appear asleep even though the loud beating of his anxious, treacherous heart could be heard from a mile away.

There was noise too, and close by. Footsteps in the kitchen, tiny ones, coming and going from spot to spot. Something bubbling on the stovetop; the sound of a kitchen knife chopping away; Zim mumbling to himself as the oven door creaked open. That delicious scent came barreling down towards the couch like an avalanche, landing on Dib’s chest just as heavily. 

Dib felt a tear roll down his cheek. His brain was only now slowly emerging into the waking world, and with it came memories of the day before. The tidal wave of sludge they had turned into threatened to rot the very scent of homemade food in the air, and he couldn't stand it.

Once the footsteps left for some adjacent room, Dib made his move. Swiftly he opened his eyes, pulling off the soft sheets, rolling off the couch and onto the floor as silently as he could. He avoided the breakfast plate on the floor as well, trying not to look at it, trying to block out the smells inundating the house. He got up, facing the closed front door, feeling the presence of the kitchen behind him as if Medusa herself were standing there, waiting for him to give into temptation and turn around. Weirdly enough, the rotten sludge of thoughts sloshing around in his brain-case gave him enough courage to focus. He stepped up to the door, grabbed the doorknob and tugged.

It was locked.

“Fuck.”

Dib turned the doorknob one way and the other, hoping it maybe was just stuck, pulling with both hands, his desperation growing as the door refused to open. He began fumbling with his coat, digging in the pockets, hoping to find his lockpicking kit when—

“Wait!! Don’t leave!!”

Dib almost jumped. He’d never even heard Zim coming back. His grip on the door tightened, and he began to tug more fiercely. Perhaps he’d have to kick it down...

“Dib-human, please… Just give Zim a moment to explain. I’ll let you go, just let me talk first.”

Frozen in place, eyes fixated on the door, Dib diverted all his willpower to keep himself from  turning around. He knew what he’d be in store for, he’d caught glimpses of Zim cooking before. The sight of Zim standing on a stool in the kitchen, with an apron on, trying to arrange the contents of one of his lunch boxes had done...things to him. And that was when he was in an arguably better state of mind.

Zim sounded desperate, pained, remorseful. Dib couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let the visuals add to the sounds and smells, couldn’t… It’d be too easy for his nemesis to…

“What do you want?” He was faking the harsh tone; surely even Zim could tell. A dull pain in his forehead, present for a bit now, was starting to take a turn for the worse. 

“I….Zim wants to apologize.”

A full body shiver. The disgusting little insect knew exactly what to say.

“For what?!”

“For missing...for not bringing you any food in the last...few days. I am very sorry for that. It wasn’t intentional.”

It sure wasn’t, the demon voice in Dib’s head whispered sarcastically. He ran to it for protection. He needed the strength, his legs felt like giving up. He slumped against the door, trying to stay upright, head feeling like it’d split open at any moment.

“There’s nothing...noth-thing...to apologize for. We never had any agreement about this, you just...it’s all on you for...doing...that—”

Speaking was difficult. Something rang fiercely in his ears.

“That's not true!” Zim responded. “I… I made a habit of bringing you food every day. You accepted it, expected it, and I didn't show up for days. I'm sorry.”

“Y-you're wrong,” Dib mouthed, lying through his teeth despite his heart's protests. “I never took them for granted, I knew you'd st-stop someday. I never fell for it.”

There was silence for a moment. Dib tried to force the door open once again.

“Fell… fell for what?” Zim's confused voice answered.

Dib just kept tugging. He knew better than to answer. 

“Fell for what?!”

“Unlock the damn door, Zim!!”

“NO! I need you to hear me out!! I need you to answer!!”

Dib tried to kick the door down. His headache raged after a single try, and he gave up.

“Answer what now?!”

“What do you mean by ‘I never fell for it’? Fell for what, exactly?!”

Dib growled under his breath. He rubbed his temples, gripping the doorknob with enough force to hurt.

“You’re not gonna make me say it.”

“Then you’re not leaving,” Zim said coldly.

Dib moved to the side, grabbing the windowsill, trying to pry it open. No luck. He punched the glass and Zim screamed, lunging forward.

“Dib!! No! You’re gonna hurt yourself!!”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!” Dib felt a hand approaching and backed into the window, almost trying to fuse with the wall, his breathing worked up and raspy. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!! I WILL FUCKING CUT YOU ZIM, I SWEAR!!”

He heard him back off, deflating like a balloon. Dib bit his lip. It physically hurt, going so against his deepest desires, but...it was necessary.

“All right, I won’t, just please...don’t punch the window.”

“Open the door.”

“I will, just—”

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!”

“I WILL OPEN THE STUPID DOOR JUST LISTEN FOR A SECOND!!”

Dib breathed out, eyes downcast, trying to calm his heart down. He kept quiet, and Zim took that as permission to speak. 

“L-look, I don't know what... what you thought I was doing by bringing you food every day. I could tell you why I was doing it myself, but I know you wouldn't believe me…”

Zim paused. Dib knew why. He was baiting him, expecting him to pry for a reason, but Dib knew better. He wasn't a dumb child anymore, to fall for these tricks. 

Dib remained silent. Zim continued after a moment. His voice sounded so... defeated.

“S-so yeah, I knew you were expecting the food every day. And I could see... could see you getting anxious about me not bringing any for days, but I couldn't.. I... I was having... trouble trying to get anything edible made. B-but I'm better now! And I'm sorry I didn't get you anything for that long. It's not gonna happen again.”

“You don't have to apologise.”

Dib's voice was hoarse. He was making great efforts not to cry. Zim, talking to him like this...it was almost too much to bear.

“I know. But I’m still doing it. Because going missing for days like that wasn’t intentional on my part.”

Silence, again. Zim continued.

“It won’t happen again. If for any reason I can’t bring you lunch one day, I’ll let you know beforehand. A-and I won’t f-force my food on you if you get something else that day. That much I can promise.” 

For a minute after, Dib kept quiet. Then…

“Will you open the door now?”

Zim took a second to reply.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“You said you’d open the door, Zim.” Dib was growing restless, impatient.

“I just need to know if you’ve h—”

“I said there’s nothing to apologize for!”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness!!” Zim was lying. Dib could tell by his tone of voice. It didn’t...feel real. None of this did. “I’m just...I need you to acknowledge what I said. I need to know you know this won’t happen again.”

Dib sighed.

“Okay, all right, I acknowledge it, whatever. Now, open the d—”

A little ‘click’ was heard as the door unlocked. Zim said something more, but by then Dib was already out and crossing the front lawn, almost tripping four or five times as he bolted away from the house. 

Once more he ran and ran, not looking back until the house was well out of view. And then, only then, he dared to look back.

Zim hadn’t followed. Dib whined.

He kept walking, like a dead man just brought back from the grave, until he found a small alleyway to sneak into. And then, hidden away from the prying eyes of passersby, he sat on the ground and screamed into his hands.

He wouldn’t be back at his apartment until two hours later. By that time, something was already waiting for him on the windowsill.

——-

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