Is this right? Chapter two

Is this right?

By: ShamenKing

Rating: Uh, T for Teen, I guess.

Warnings: It’s freaking gay and ZaDR, so if you clicked on this by mistake, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! RUN, RUN AWAY AND NEVER RETUUUUUUURN! And if you meant to click on this, ENJOY!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Invader Zim. Okay?

Summary: Why do I feel this way around him? I-is this right? What will dad think of me when he learns his only son is…gay? And besides that, STILL into the paranormal. Maybe everyone was right, maybe I AM crazy…

Chapter Two

My eyes shifted upwards and I caught Zim’s oddly pink eyes on my own. He grinned and stuck out his weird serpentine like tongue, which I ignored and pushed the thought out of my mind that his tongue was...inhuman. I grinned up at him as I let my hands do their thing. My dirty blue mechanical pencil left nice clean streaks as I started to draw his mouth with a wide grin, his odd zippered teeth showing. As I drew the eyes, I wondered why his eyes were so…pink. However, as I thought about it more, it was such a nice shade of pink. I brushed the pencil across the sheet in a melodramatic manner.

“Done!” I grinned and stared at it for a minute, wondering if he’d like it or not. After a couple of minutes of daydreaming, I found out that the notebook wasn’t in my hands anymore. Just air, my hands still shaped into fists, as if I was still holding the familiar object. “Oh.”

“Ooooooh. It ALMOST captures my awe inspiring awesomeness here.” I turned my head so I could see Zim out of the corner of my eyes and I pushed my glasses up to the bridge of my nose.

“Do you like it?” my voice cracked out of nervousness and I felt my face warm up. I wasn’t used to showing people my work, even if it was a drawing of them.

“Very.” Zim turned it upside down and on its side, as if he could figure how he liked it best. He finally turned it right side up and grinned, “Can I have it? The drawing I mean, for my…er, project. It’ll be on art. This’ll be called ‘Awesomeness in Action’ or ‘Zim: Your Future Master‘. What d’yuu think?”

I blinked and said, “Hmm, yeah, you can have it and I don’t think anyone would respond to ‘Zim: your master’, I mean, really. You should call it…” my mind raced to find something witty, maybe cunning and crafty. But…I had nothing, “Just call it ‘Zim’” I said finally, “’Zim: That Green New Kid’”

Zim gave me an odd look, then smirked, “Maybe.” he sighed and carefully ripped out the sheet of notebook paper. He took it and stuffed it neatly into his metallic backpack. Which made me think, do they make metallic backpacks?

“Hey…” I said slowly, as if I was afraid of scaring him off, “Where’d you get that back pack. I’ve never seen one like it before.”

He seemed to hesitate as he pulled his thin arm away from his back and he brushed his thick hair over his left eye. He was buying time and I wasn’t stopping him. “It’s an exclusive design. One of a kind deal.” he said, almost as if he had rehearsed it in his head, but I didn’t mind. “My…my mother gave it to me when I was little. It’s from…well, it can’t be found on this continent.”

“Oh.” I could tell he wasn’t lying, but I heard in his voice that it wasn’t the whole truth. My heart told me to let it go and he’d tell me when we became better friends. My brain told me to push on, that there was no such thing as that type of backpack on this earth. The short guy gave me an almost pathetic look, as if he knew I knew something, but did not know what I knew he knows. You know? “Alright. I just thought…that it didn’t look like-- I liked the way it looked. Especially the key chains hanging off of it.”

He let out a breath of relief, I’m guessing he was holding. Something…I must have been close to something he didn’t want me to know. What was it? my conscious mind yelled, what is he hiding from me? “Yeah, I like them too. I got them from…my dog. My dog…borrowed them from…other people and gave them to me. So that I’d be socially accepted.”

“Well,” I breathed a sigh of relief, for what, how should I know? “Males who wear thick eye liner and wear all black with black hair are usually ignored.”

“Good. I can get my ‘project’ done faster then expected then.” he cackled and turned away from me, I think he forgot he had forgotten I was there. He whispered something about, “evil chipmunks” and “cranberry drinks”. I stood up and stood behind him, my hand reaching up slowly to…just…touch…his…shoulder blade…

“GRAH!!! HYOOMAN FIIIIIIIIIIIIILTH!” he screamed and jumped up in the air. For a minute, while I was holding onto his arm, he tried to get away. I gave him a dry leveling look, but he ignored me.

“HEY!” I yelled above his insane screaming, “It’s me! DIB!”

“Oh, right.” he stopped completely and stared at me hard. He snatched back his arm and glared at me, and, despite our size and build difference, I slunk back. His glare was as hard and impenetrable as stone. “Don’t do that again. I…I’m a little jumpy at this new school.”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry…” I muttered, feeling his eyes bore into my head. He touched my arm, making me look him in, what I now think, his fake pink eyes. This bringing me to ask, “Are your eyes really pink, or are you wearing contact lenses?”

He stopped cold, “Why would you think I’m wearing lenses? Aren’t pink eyes common here?”

“No, actually. The normal eye colors are green, blue and brown. There’s different shades, but they all add up to the same color.” I shrugged, “What’s the normal eye colors for where you live?”

Zim paused, taking in his surroundings again and I didn’t rush him for an answer. “They’re very unusual colors. But…we have the color green and only one I know has light brown eyes. Pink is one of the normal eye colors.”

“Wow, that’s weird. Uh, for me, I mean. What color are my eyes?” I glanced at him, wondering what he’d call them. My eyes had been called plenty of names. “Yours look almost…salmon pink. It’s actually a…nice shade.”

“Salmon…like the fish?” he gave me a look and I nodded. He actually seemed pleased with himself. Zim grabbed my face, much to my severe surprise and brought me close to his face. I could smell his breath, hot and minty on my face. His breath fogged up my glasses and he grunted. I squeaked when I felt him slide my precious glasses off, everything quickly turning to blurs and smudges of unreadable objects that I couldn’t make out.

“I need those to seeeeee.” I whined, but I didn‘t make a grab for the huge clear blur.

“Oh, you’ll get ‘em back.” he snorted and looked at my eyes for a long time. After a few minutes, or what seemed like hours, he slipped my glassed back on my face and sighed. “Honey.”

“W-what?”

“Your eyes remind me of honey. The sweet liquid candy your hum- uh, bees make. It’s a good thing, a complement.” he waved it off as if it was nothing. It wasn’t just nothing to me, though. I liked hearing things like that. My eyes reminded him of sweet candy made by bees. A complement. Not a first, but the best.

Sure, I’d gotten many complements, mostly on my clothes and my intelligence. The things I made, the cure for cancer. But…when it’s something that actually makes me up as a physical person, not my smarts or money,…it feels wonderful. My ego inflated from its miniscule size, it was still really small, though not as small.

“Thanks, Zim. That’s…the first time someone has said my eyes remind them of something.” I sighed, shoving ourselves away from the subject. “Hey, let’s work on that project now. What is it you need?”

Zim stared at me, then shook his head. An almost maniacal look flashing across his face. “I need information on bombs used by humans. Civilization. Population density. Many, many things.”

“Ah. All right. Do you want to start looking for things? Since we’re in the right area and all, I mean…” I trailed off, as I looked at the clock. We had been there for an hour since 8:30 in the morning. “Woah…” I whispered.

“Who the heck is George Washington?” Zim’s loud voice rang in my ears. “What a weird human.”

“He was the ‘Father of America’. Personally, I think that a load of crap. He fathered nothing. He was just the first president.” I headed towards Zim, he was holding a thick book called, ‘George Washington, the leader of our nation‘. “History was never really my thing. How about you? You ever learn about your countries history?” Inside my head I added, ‘or your alien race.’ But I pushed that though away. That was just…totally ridicules…

“Not…really.” Zim said it slowly, as if he wanted to add more, but something was preventing him. I waited for a minute or two for him to go on, to see if he’d spill the beans, let the cat out the bag, etcetera, etcetera. “I mostly went through training for the…um, army. Yes, the army.”

I let it go. “Oh…okay.” he gave me a look. He knew I knew he knew something and he wasn’t telling. A look that told me to not ask such a question again, but I gave him a look that told him ‘I’ll find out soon enough. For now, I won’t ask.’. We looked away from each other and I reached into the shelves. Zim was just two feet away from the lethal weapons category.

“Here.” I handed a thick, hard back book covered in a film of dust. He took it slowly, as if I were handing him a bomb. He looked at the intricate handwriting painted in silver at the front of the book and swept his hand across the top in a grand gesture, and I sneezed as it hit my nose. He carefully turned the book in his hands, studying it, then looked at me. The brown fabric made little noise as he wrapped his fingers tightly around it.

“The Big, Big Book of Everything Lethal?” He gasped in amazement and looked at me, “I wish my pla---eh, country had one of these.”

“Yeah?” I laughed, America was the only country I knew who’d make a book with everything lethal, I’m pretty sure it has the A-Bomb in there. “Well, do you need anything else?”

Zim clutched the book to his chest, “Hmm. This’ll be good for now. What time is it?”

I stared down at the digital wrist clock connected to my arm. “9:01. So far, I have skipped first and second period.” The clock flashed, “I mean, 9:02.”

“Hm.” Zim tapped his lip, “What can we do now?”

“Hey, what happened to that book.” I looked around and he said,

“I put it back. I can’t lug it with me everywhere. I can always come back for it.” I started to look at the shelf, to see if the little space had been filled, but he took my arm and started down the steps. I had a sneaking suspicion that he shoved it into his back pack. But, like the doormat I am, I didn’t utter a word…