Zadr Oneshots

Hit Me Back

What up, im back, posting fics from tumblr forever ago, enjoy

Zim looked like a wreck. He was bleeding and bruised and staring blankly like he wasn’t even in there anymore. And Dib had done that to him.

He didn’t feel any of the satisfaction he used to. He just wanted things to feel normal again. He wanted to take pride in seeing the alien under him. But he didn’t. He had hurt Zim and it wasn’t making any of his own pain stop.

Dib glared at him, trying to catch his breath, trying to figure out why it felt so wrong. It never used to feel wrong. His breath hitched in pain. He wanted to stop looking at him like that, he hated that he just looked so sad, so hurt, so empty. He used to be so full, full of life and rage, full of passion. Zim’s eyes used to glow before he pounded Dib’s face into the pavement. He used to smile before breaking Dib’s bones, he used to fight like it was as easy as breathing. Dib looked away, a single tear falling down his face he dropped his bat.

“Hit me back.” He was shaking like he’d been dunked in cold water. Zim just looked at him. He was waiting, waiting for another blow, waiting for Dib to say something. Dib had never seen him so quiet for so long. Dib choked on his own breath. His throat caught on a sob that clawed its way up his throat without his permission.

“Hit me” it wasn’t a request, it was a plea, he was begging him to hit him back, to fight back so he hurt too, so they were even, so he wasn’t the monster. Zim sould hit him back, he should hit him back, he deserved it, he deserved to hurt, why wasn’t he hurting. Why wasn’t Zim hurting him like Dib hurt him? Dib’s legs couldn’t support him any longer. He dropped to his knees in front of him, meeting his level. Zim’s eyes watched him fall. 

“Hit me, Zim.” he was really crying now, he could feel it in his chest. He felt sick, looking at him, looking at what he’d done. He grabbed the bat and forced it into Zim’s limp hands. It just rolled off his lap, so Dib put it back and closed his fist over it, holding it there, forcing him to hold it. “Zim please, please please do something.”

The way Zim looked at him felt wrong. It felt like hurt and pity. He wanted there to be anger in those eyes, he wanted his Zim back. “What’s wrong with you?! Hit me, fight me Zim, come on!” When he moved his hands the bat dropped again and clanged against the floor. The sound shot white-hot anger through him. He wanted to hear it swing past his head, he wanted his ears to ring when Zim would knock him in the face with it, he wanted to hear the wood crack under Zim’s fingertips. He wanted to hurt so bad.

“Goddammit Zim,” Dib sobbed, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him close. “Please do something, do anything, please please please just hit me back,I’m sorry, please, hit me.” He flinched when a green hand moved to his face. He wanted it to be rough, he wanted it to ball into a fist and knock a tooth loose, but it didn’t. It swiped a thumb under his eye. Zim wiped away his tears, gentle when all he wanted to do was to hurt. Dib shoved his face into his chest. His voice sounded animal, insane. He sounded as wrecked as Zim looked. “Please Zim please” 

The hand cradled the back of his head, pressing Dib’s face into his shoulder, holding him in place when Dib gripped the back of his shirt and screamed. He screamed his throat raw. He gripped onto Zim’s back and yelled and sobbed and begged. Begged for his life, begged for Zim to take it, to take him, to make his bones ache and muscles tear and skin bleed. Zim didn’t say a damn word, not even a whimper of pain. He didn’t even cry. Why did Dib want him to cry? He wanted him to scream at him like he used to, to hold him down and choke the life out of him, to slice his throat and break him down until he was nothing but a dismembered corpse rotting in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Zim, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry please—please–Zim, I’m, I’m so sorry.” Zim pet his hand through Dib’s hair. It was comforting. Or, it was supposed to be comforting. It wasn’t supposed to shoot white hot rage and shame through Dib’s blood. He choked on his own tears, clawed his hands down Zim’s back.

Dib pulled him in so tight he could crush him in his arms. Zim just hugged back limply. “Please Zim, please, say something, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” 

“It’s okay.” His voice was small and broken, and it came out muffled from behind Dib’s tears. Dib didn’t want to hear it, he didn’t want to feel like this, he didn’t want to feel. His chest burned. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Zim held him as he screamed, as he cried, as he beat on his shoulders and ripped at his skin.

Zim held Dib until his body slumped limp in his arms. Dib cried into Zim’s shoulder until his legs went numb, until his eyes stung from the tears, until his tears soaked through Zim’s shirt and burnt his skin. Dib cried until he couldn’t anymore. He fell asleep against his enemy, arms wrapped around him, hands tangled in his shirt. Even in sleep, he heaved sad, pitiful breaths into Zim’s chest.

Zim held him until the sun rose.