Screaming

“Fuck, Zim!” Dib reaches up to gingerly press his fingers to his nose and feels the thick blood pooling down past his mouth. “I swear to god, you fucking bug, if you’ve gone and broken my nose again I’ll-“

“-Shut up!” Zim shrieks, pak legs unfurling and clanking onto the concrete. He rises above Dib and encroaches slowly, legs clacking with each step. “You.. you worm! Do you have any idea what you could have done?”

“Dude, it was just some papers. I didn’t even read them for christ’s sake. They’re in Irken, you of all people should know I’m slow at translating that chicken scratch of yours.” Dib looks forlornly at the stack of crumpled papers a few feet away, scattered and likely marked with a spray of Dib’s blood. He turns back to look up at Zim when he snarls, reaching out a gloved claw to shove Dib back hard.

“They’re not for you, they’re Zim’s private papers!” Zim leans further over Dib, tongue curling and spitting flecks of saliva onto Dib’s face. Dib scrubs at his face, remembering how disrespectful spitting is considered in Irken culture. It burns a little.

“I don’t give a shit what they are. I didn’t even mean to touch them! I just wanted to put my crap down.” He meets Zim’s eyes. They’re a deep red and set in a foul expression. “I’m not interested in your secrets. You can keep those. It’s not like I don’t know everything anyway.”

Zim stiffens and Dib’s expression softens despite himself. He runs a tired hand through his hair and steels his gaze.

“You don’t really think I’m that big of an idiot, do you? You’ve just been quietly shoving your fat green head into my life over the last year and suddenly you save my life. I don’t know man, a guy spends his entire life trying to kill you and then just stops you from bleeding out some random Tuesday? That was weird.“ Dib shrugs, looking away briefly.

“That does not mean anything, Dib-worm. You were bleeding all over my base, it was disgusting. Zim had to stop it somehow.”

Dib shakes his head.

“It’s okay, Zim. I know we’re friends. I don’t know why, and I don’t care to know - but I know you’re lost and don’t know where to go. I know, and it’s okay. I’m lost too. We can be lost together. Your leaders, the Tallest -“.

“Don’t.” Zim grits out, quiet in a way Dib has never heard, didn’t know was possible. Physically, he begins trying to reach one hand out to soothe, to touch, to reassure. Mentally, he begs his sister to come collect his corpse once she realises what most likely happened to him. Damn it, he hopes she realises.

He isn’t that surprised when Zim lunges at him, but he wishes he’d had more time to brace before an Irken claw punches into his chest to grab at the material of his shirt. He wheezes a little.

“You do not know what you speak of, you pathetic slime! Do not mistake your loneliness for Zim’s. Zim doesn’t need you, Zim doesn’t need this dust bowl of a planet. One more fucking word and I’ll finish what that disgusting cryptid creature started last year.”

The human swear word sounds weird coming out of the alien’s mouth, but it’s not the first time. He’d only ever heard Zim swear once before - specifically when he got shredded by a cryptid in the woods and, in a blood-loss haze, made his way to Zim’s base to start bleeding out on his frenemies floor. He knows how hard it is to admit how miserable you are on the inside, especially to the people that matter most.

Well, he had made it this far.

“I know you Zim, and it’s okay.”

Zim’s quiet for a moment before he speaks, clenching his jaw.

“Beg.”

“What?”

“Zim told you, one more word. Now you beg for your pathetic life, you insolent worm.”

“I’m not going to - Zim, stop it. You know I’m right. I care about you too! It’s fine!”

Zim snarls, fist clenched, pak legs raising him to his full height. Dib’s heart drops when he sees one leg glint as it lifts itself behind Zim, preparing to strike.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He might actually die today. Shit.

“Beg!”

“No!”

“Beg!”

Shit. The leg is calibrating.

“I’m all you have! Kill me and you’ll have nothing. You know it too!”

Zim stops. The leg pauses. His eyes are wide, frightened, conflicted. He chokes out a pained sound, continuing to clench and unclench his fist. He yanks Dib closer by the shirt still tangled in his fist. Dib breathes heavily.

“Beg Zim not to kill you.” His voice is raw, tired. His eyes roam over Dib’s face, carefully categorising and assessing. The stilted pak leg drops back to the ground.

Dib’s whole body un-tenses despite the proximity. The alien’s face turns slowly into a somewhat unreadable resignation.

Dib swallows the lump.

“Please.” He whispers quietly. Swaying, pressing forward.