The Return of Zim

Part Nine

The Return of Zim

Part Nine

(Devon's POV)

The spaghetti was amazing, but I couldn't wait to finish. I kept sneaking glances at Zim, seeing him in the soft candle light as he watches me eat, and I blush, looking down. I could barely focus, especially she.Zim finished his supper before me. Swallowing hard, I start eating as fast as I can, and jump up from the table when I'm done. I practically throw the plate in the sink.

Then, I almost throw Zim in the sink.

Grabbing him by his collar, I push him against the counter as hard as I could without breaking it, or him, and his lips meet mine eagerly. Our bodies are smooshed together, and he pushes me against the wall just as I begin to play with his sensitive antennae.

"You... You are amazing... Why... Why did I ever hold back?" I whisper, swing his eyes lighten from rubies to pink, something that lets me know he heard: he understands. Then, we're kissing again, our tongues dancing, and there's nothing... The world melts away...

Into another world.

In this world, I am a spectator. I see Zim from his birth as an adorable little baby alien, to his first failed mission, to the three years we spent fighting. Nostalgia takes over, and his kiss is gentle, even though his hand digging into my side is anything but. I see his time training to be a tallest, and his discipline. The scene starts to change, and I smell the vauge scent of... burning. Burning...

"Ow!!" I yell as I push Zim away. My side is burning, and I don't know why.

"W-Whyd you stop?" His eyes flit between emotions, confusion, hurt, pain, and finally settling on sadness. Breathing heavily, I look down at him, barely able to see out of my fogged glasses.

"My side started burning... Like, really bad!" His face pales, and his eyes widen, turning Burgundy colored.  He shakes his head, a wild and frantic expression on his face. "Zim? What's wrong?" I reach out, and he scrambles back across the floor.

And slams into the stove.

Now, my stove is out of date. Its rickety, and it shakes. And, just our luck, the pot containing hot water and soaking from dinner, is sitting on the top front burner. So, when Zim slams into the stove, the water, hot and toxic to him, slushes over and splashes all over his head.

He seems stunned for a fraction of a moment,then the heat and the acidity of the water hits him, his eyes filling with pain as he lets out a strangled scream. I runover, dragging him out of the puddle, and struggling to rip off his wet clothes. First his shirt, then his skinny jeans. I grab the nearest towel, a hand towel in a daddy by the pantry, and start drying him as well as possible. When I'm sure that hes dry, I throw the towel down, and examine him. His skin is burned, darker in some places, mixing with the whip marks all over his torso. Hes shaking visibly, and I take him in my arms, holding him closely.

That night, we both slept on the floor by the wall,clutched in eachothers arms.

And the package I had gotten stays tucked away safely for another time, another day, when I can tell him my not-so-far-away past,and why there's a row of spell books on my bookshelf.