Author's Note: Heavily influenced by "It's Not Your Fault" by Newfound Glory. Blame them!
Fairly Oddparents belongs to Butch Hartman.
It's Not Your Fault
"It's not your fault," Timmy whispered. Trixie Tang shook her head, her long, luxurious raven hair now a sodden mess about her shoulders. The two sat outside an expensive restaurant that would have taken one look at Timmy and shut the doors on him. Nonetheless, both sat, Trixie's face streaked with make up and tears and Timmy soaked to the bone but not complaining.
At sixteen, Trixie Tang was young, self assured, and elitist; her attitude turned off some of her long time followers who chose more down to earth girls. While she was still pretty and popular, people simply tuned out. Timmy's crush on her continued regardless of its increasing unlikelihood of being reciprocated. Yet he had matured, despite Wanda's protests that he "grow up and see what was right in front of him". He liked Trixie for more than her looks now. He knew that beyond the façade, there was a deeply upset girl clamoring for something real to tether her heart to. And Timmy wanted to be her knight in shining armor.
Nonetheless, all signs pointed to her never needing rescue. She was too good for it and indeed, too good for the likes of him, but Timmy never gave up. Why should he? Over the years, he'd lost competition and that was because they were attracted to her appearance and not the real her. Timmy would have gladly forsaken himself to discover the self she held under lock and key. Stubbornly, he insisted that Trixie was more than a pretty face and no, Cosmo, she wasn't also a "pretty body".
Trixie surprised him by resting her head on his shoulders and leaning against him. Beyond the awning, it poured and people rushed to their cars with newspapers, purses, the occasional umbrella, or money held over their heads. They screamed and shrieked when the water splashed them, like it burned. Trixie, quietly, assured him that it might as well have because those outfits weren't water proof. Timmy didn't understand why you'd purchase something in the first place if you couldn't wash it and Trixie didn't bother to explain. They came from two different worlds.
Yet he was here tonight, at a party he'd never been invited to, sitting next to the girl of his dreams who sniffled loudly. Trixie Tang's sweet sixteen was the party of the year, basically, and if you weren't invited, you were nobody. Needless to say, Timmy hadn't been invited. Neither had any of his friends, for that matter, or a great deal of people at school. He had yet to get the whole story about this mess, but when Trixie called him in tears, he rushed over here. Because he would do anything for her, even dunk his head in nitric acid. Especially now, when her tears broke his heart.
"Why didn't you call Veronica?" Timmy said once her sobs had subsided enough to carry conversation. She sniffled and he handed her a tissue. Her perk nose blew loudly and he smirked, biting back a laugh at the rude noise, resembling a bullhorn. Now was neither the time nor the place to laugh at her expense.
"Because she wouldn't understand," Trixie said, lying with her legs outstretched on the bench. The lilac Chinese dress she wore revealed them in full prominence and Timmy had initially stared until common decency demanded he pay attention to her and not her body.
"But she's your best friend," Timmy replied, eyes drifting to the rose tucked behind Trixie's ear. Its petals were torn and she idly removed it and tossed it into a puddle. A car drove over it and she scoffed.
"In name, sure," she answered. "It's…complicated."
Timmy raised his cerulean eyes to hers and squared his chin determinedly. A green vase stood by the door and a single pink rose occupied its insides. The two objects, which normally would never have eyes, contemplated him and Trixie. His well guarded secret and, above all, his beloved fairy godparents had ensured that though he'd ordinary have a difficult time reaching her in time to be of any assistance, that he'd show up immediately.
"You can tell me complicated stuff," Timmy assured her. "I mean, you called me in the first place."
Let me in, Trixie.
Trixie smiled weakly and grabbed his hand on impulse. Causing delightful tingles to course up and down his body, she laid in her lap and nestled closer to him. Her legs dangled off the bench and her scuffed red boots nearly touched the ground. A few passing patrons scuffed at Timmy's attire and one of them remarked cruelly under their breath, but Timmy was used to it and ignored them.
"Well, when you're as popular as me…you don't really have friends. You have shopping buddies, associates, people who look good on your arms…" Trixie said softly and glanced at the cobblestones.
"You're never with anyone you really like, per se. It's all about how you look."
Timmy mulled this over and shifted his head to peer at the top of Trixie's. She maneuvered to glance into his eyes and then shook her head to settle back where she was. Overhead, the lights dimmed and Timmy knew in a few hours, they would have to leave. In the meanwhile, they'd wait for Trixie's ride and hope Trixie's often absent mother pulled through and actually showed up to cart her home. Trixie's hopes were substantially lower than Timmy's. She mentioned that nothing short of magic would bring her mother here.
"If you like someone that's unpopular…" she let the sentence trail off and for Timmy to draw his conclusions. A fluorescent bulb flickered and died. Inside, through a mullioned window, people were being served in the dining section of the restaurant. Beyond there were the ballrooms and a few private rooms where Timmy surmised Trixie had been when she called him.
Silence descended while Timmy tried not to jump to conclusions and Trixie nursed whatever hurt she'd been dealt tonight. Lightning flashed overhead and Trixie shivered, but refrained from latching onto him. He had the sense she'd been taught not to fear natural calamities or, if she did, to suppress it like all other terrors. Like her reactions in school and declarations of apathy, it was a sham. Timmy had always suspected that, but he knew he wasn't exactly a genius. He had the propensity to guess things that were so off the mark, if his answer was right, Dimmsdale had entered a twilight zone.
"Trix," he said and blushed, accidentally giving her a nickname. She smirked and cocked an eyebrow.
"What am I, the Trix Rabbit?' she replied, tone light and teasing but concealing whatever truly troubled her.
"If you can't be with the one you like, then I guess you never get what you want," Timmy replied, unusually astute. Trixie smiled, pleased with the analogy. She shifted again to peer at him and then slid back to her previous position.
"My sixteenth birthday was supposed to be this grand gala where everyone who was anyone was here," Trixie said softly and Timmy frowned bitterly. Hence why he hadn't been invited.
"But not anyone I really wanted to be with…"
Slowly, glancing at him cautiously, she proceeded to tell him exactly what had happened that night. Listening to it, Timmy's temper rose and he yearned to rectify history and protect her. Yet, somehow, he sensed she knew this. Maybe that was why she'd called him in the first place, because he knew he'd grow angry on her behalf. Or maybe because although she'd arrived here with Tad and Chad on her arms, she would have preferred another. Someone who would never take advantage of her.
"All I wanted, all I've ever wanted, was for someone to look at me and see the parts that aren't proper…everything I shouldn't be and say, 'I like that.' Like Timantha would have…" she said and Timmy unwittingly laughed. Trixie glared at him and he ceased, covering his mouth to muffle his chuckles.
"Oh, she's closer than you think," Timmy replied, sniggering. She elbowed him in the side and huffed.
"Do you know her?" Trixie said and Timmy smirked.
"Intimately," he replied, grinning deviously and she sighed.
"In the years after that one day, I feel like I've never met anyone like her. Anyone who's willing to look past the surface and see underneath," she said softly. Timmy turned around and wrapped his arms around her. True, he didn't know the first thing about girls still and he had no idea whether what he was doing was right or not, but in his heart, he thought it was. And his heart usually worked better than his head.
Trixie shivered and he covered her with his miraculously dry jacket (thank you, Cosmo and Wanda). She smiled and cuddled closer to him.
"But sometimes," she continued, "I think you could be that person."
"Your knight in shining armor?" Timmy replied, smirking.
"No," she said. "The person who says, 'It's not your fault, so please stop your crying now'."
While he doubted he'd forgive Tad and Chad any time soon for their actions, he owed them a debt of gratitude, however miniscule. Feeling betrayed, lonesome, and violated, Trixie had called him and unloaded onto him. And while they weren't officially anything other than themselves, singular, he knew that it wouldn't always be that way. Some day, when the barriers meant less and she was free to be herself, she'd seek him out. And Timmy could wait. Because he always had.
And he always would. Because for Trixie, he'd wait forever.