ˢᵖᵒʳᵃᵈⁱᶜ

✧˚.🎀༘⋆

[ realization ]

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐝𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠.

I was wrong about Elton. I was wrong about Christian. Now Tai hated me. And then there was Dean...It all boiled down to one inevitable conclusion - I was just totally clueless. Oh, and this Dean and Tai thing was wiggin' me more than anything. I mean, what was my problem? Tai is my pal. I don't begrudge her a boyfriend. 

I really- OOH!

You stopped your internal monologue as you passed Chanel, spotting a gorgeous pair of black pumps.

I wonder if they have that in my size!

Walking through the neighborhood, you kicked a rock, your fingers loosely holding the Chanel bag.

What does she want with Dean anyway? He dresses funny. He listens to complaint rock. He's not even cute...in a conventional way.

I mean, sure, he had pretty hazel eyes that seemed to brighten more when he smiled that dazzling grin. And his cheeky and charming attitude always left me with a fuzzy feeling in my chest...

He's just, like, this slug who hangs around at his house and finds ways to badger me. Ugh, and he's a hideous dancer. Couldn't take him anywhere. 

Wait a second. What am I stressing about? This is Dean. My best friend's older brother whom I've hated for more than four years. 

A memory flashed through your head of when he picked you up from the curb after the Elton situation. You remembered the way you seemed to perfectly fit in his arms. Almost like a puzzle piece.

Okay, okay, so he's kind of a Baldwin. 

You walked towards Cher's house, as you had gotten a call from her questioning where you were, and how you had abruptly left. Boy, would she be angry when she knew you were out shopping without her.

What would he want with Tai? She couldn't make him happy. Dean needs someone with imagination, someone to take care of him, someone to laugh at his jokes because he makes the best ones. 

Then suddenly...

You stopped, and the fountain behind you, in the garden, sprouted with water, an array of colored lights going off. "Oh, my God," you gasped. "I love Dean."

I am majorly, totally, crazy in love with Dean.

It was the next morning, and you were sitting stiff on the sofa, Dean beside you, eating from a cereal box of Lucky Charms. 

But now I don't know how to act around him. I mean, ordinarily, I'd strut around him in my cutest little outfits and send myself flowers and candy, but I couldn't do that stuff with Dean. 

He wordlessly tilted the box towards you, offering you some of the delicious cereal, but you couldn't bring myself to take a handful, so you shook your head. "What's with you?" Dean asked. 

"What do you mean?" you retorted. 

"You're so quiet," he simplified. "You haven't made me watch 'The Real World'."

"I care about the news."

"Since when?"

"Since now."

You watched with a tilt of your head as the newsman spoke about a bombing in Central Bosnia. "You look confused," he smirked, looking at your face. 

"Well, uh, I thought they declared peace in the Middle East." He silently chuckled, looking back at you then to the TV.

It was a few days later, when you found yourself walking back and forth from your father's study. You peaked in, seeing him still looking at his papers, so you stepped by again. "Y/N, get in here," he called. 

"What's up, daddy?"

"What are you doing dancing in front of my office?" he asked. 

"Nothing. I just wanted to see if you need any help with anything," you shrugged. 

"Yeah, you can help me with something. Come over here." He grabbed a stack of papers, venturing to the brown leather couch that was against the wall. "Alright. Every time that you see a craniotomy that took place in the Geriatrics ward, highlight it. Just the Geriatrics ward."

"Okay," you nodded, taking the pink highlighter from his hand and the paper, placing it on your lap and repeating his action. 

"It's fun, huh?"

"Yeah," you chuckled. He settled into the chair, and you looked back to him with a sigh. "Daddy, did you ever have a problem that you couldn't use brain theories to solve it?"

"Tell me the problem, and we'll figure out how to place it into a theory," he said. 

"I like this boy, and he likes someone else."

"How could that be?"

"I don't know, but I feel wretched."

"Well, obviously, this boy is a complete moron. You are the most beautiful girl in Beverly Hills."
You smiled softly. "And to tell you the truth, I'm not sure I want you with a stupid fellow like that."

"Well, actually, he is a smart guy. And he's, you know, one of those do-gooder types. And now I feel like all my after-school commitments are just not good enough."

"How can you say that? Who takes care of everyone in this household? Who makes sure that I eat right? I have not seen such a good-doing since your mother."

"Really?"

"Really." He patted your head. "Now, get back to work."

At school, you were wearing a cropped dainty pink camisole top, with a blush satin skirt, strapped pink heels, and some pearl jewelry. 

Later, while we were learning about the Pismo Beach Disaster, I decided I needed a complete makeover, except this time, I'd makeover my soul. But what makes somebody a better person? And then I realized all my friends were really good in different ways. 

Like Christian, he always wants things to be beautiful and interesting. 

Or Cher, who always puts other before herself, and always supporting me in whatever shopping troubles I may find myself in.

Or Dionne and Murray, when they think no one is watching, are so considerate of each other.

And poor Miss Geist, always trying to get us involved no matter how much we resist. 

Geist turned the TV off with a saddened frown. "Oh. That's just- That doesn't even show- Every single possession, every memory, everything you've had your whole life gone in a second. Can you imagine what that must feel like?" Elton raised his hand and she beamed. "Elton?"

"Can I use a pass?"

She deflated, sighing, "Yeah. We'll be collecting blankets, disposable diapers, uh, canned goods."

"Miss Geist?" You lifted your hand. 

"Y/N."

"I want to help," you stated simply. 

She smiled, mostly in shock. "That would be wonderful."

I felt better already!

At Cher's house, you both were emptying her cabinet of food. You were heading to your own house in about two hours, after you unpacked hers. "Daddy!" Cher yelled out.

"What?"

"You didn't like that red caviar, did you?"

"And how about the wagyu beef in the freezer?" you questioned loudly, holding up the $200 meat. 

In his office, Mel looked up, Dean and Josh following. "What are they talkin' about?"

Next, in her room, you picked out clothes from her revolving wardrobe, throwing some away with grimaces, and others with tearful goodbyes. "But I love-."

"No," she shook her head. "It's from two seasons ago."

"But it was the best one."

She gave you a stern look, and you sighed. As you put the purple dress down, you quickly tossed it to your purse, hiding it. It was cute! If she wasn't going to appreciate it, you sure will.

You started the piling the clothes downstairs, as well as food, sporting equipment, dishes, and just basic home necessities. "Y/N, Cher, what are you doing?" Mel questioned when he saw you both passing for the umpteenth time.

"I'm Captain of the Pismo Beach Disaster Relief," you answered. 

"And I'm her first in command!" Cher piped up with a grin, holding a bunch of her winter sports equipment under her arms. 

"I don't think they need your skis," Mel observed.

"Daddy, some people lost all their belongings!"

"Don't you think that includes athletic equipment?" you finished, and she nodded rapidly, emphasizing your point. Mel merely rolled his eyes, going back to work, and as you passed, you looked inside, finding Dean with a proud smirk. Directed right at you.

Dionne screamed at the two boys who were tying up the banner for the relief. After that, her, you and Cher set up the information table, and you were ecstatic when everyone signed their names on the worker list, offering their help. 

Then, you at the mess hall, where Cher had made you a cute pink badge with the word 'Captain' on it. "It's so pretty," you gushed at one of the plates a boy had donated. 

"Should I leave it here?" he asked. 

"Oh, you know, could you please bring it to bedding? Yes, thank you very much." You glanced up, finding Geist walking by. "Oh, Miss Geist, I need more boxes. They're all filled up."

"Already? Great," she exclaimed. 

"I divided them into entrees and appetizers," you stated, proud at your little accomplishment. 

Her eyes widened, but she smiled, nonetheless. "Oh. Okay. I'll have them picked up."

She left, and you grabbed a box, plopping it down on the floor with a grunt. You heard clatter, so you stood, finding Travis with his own box of goodies. "Hey," he greeted.

"Proper. This is really decent of you, Travis," you praised, looking through the donations.

"Sure." Your eyebrows furrowed, and you pulled out a purple bong. Travis noticed it as well. "I wasn't sure about that. I don't need it anymore, but far be it for me to deny anyone else, you know." You smiled, though it was crooked when you lifted a makeshift bong, made from a honey bear tube. "Oh, I wanted to tell you something. I'm sorry about your shoes."

"What shoes?"

"The blue ones that went up to your knees," he clarified. 

"Oh, those are so last season," you shrugged off. "What even made you think of them?"

"Well, it's one of my steps. See, I joined this club, and- and, and there are these steps. It's like..." He stopped, looking up as he counted on his fingers. 

"12?"

"Yeah, 12, how'd you know?"

You bit my lip, suppressing your smile. "Wild guess."

"Wow. Good guess." He then pulled out a piece of green paper from his pocket and handing it out to me. "Uh, also, here."

You glanced over the writing. "'A.S.L'," you read with a dumb look, wanting a title. 

"Amateur Skateboarding League," Travis said. "This clarity thing, it's brought me to a whole new level with my skating. You gotta see it. Would you come Saturday?"

"Sure," you agreed to the over excited puppy dog in front of you. 

"Ah, cool."

You giggled a bit at his antics, then gazed over the bong and his other donations. "Well, um, I guess kitchenware?"

"That's where I used to keep it."

It was Saturday, and you were wearing a knit black dress with lace lining, and some black Doc Martins. The skating league was actually really interesting and captured quite a large crowd. You thanked the barista who handed me my coffee, and just as you raised it to my lips, you were stopped by a soft, "Hi."

You looked to your side, finding Tai, and you smiled, "Hi."

"Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?" she requested.

"Um, sure."

"Look, I have been in agony for the past week. And I can't even believe that I went off the way I did."

"No," you disagreed. "I have been going down a shame spiral. I cannot even believe that I was so unsupportive of your feelings for Dean."

"No, you are entitled to your own opinion, alright? I'm the tard here. Y/N, you've been nothing but super, duper nice to me."

"Not even. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have even like that loser Elton. I'm so sorry, Tai."

"Oh, Y/N, I'm really sorry. Oh, shit. Now I'm going to go ahead and cry," she joked, tearing up. 

"Let's never fight again, okay?"

"Oh, totally!" You both hugged, and you were happy that Tai was your friend again. 

"Next up, number 14, Travis Birkenstock!" the announcer called.

"Oh, he's on!" you exclaimed, and she squealed, sitting down on the grass with you. "He waved at you!"

"I know!" He started forward, and you were, quite honestly, amazed at the precision of all his tricks, as he practically floated mid-air. Beside you, Tai was a screaming mess. "WOO! ALRIGHT, TRAVIS!"

When he finished, and received his very high scores, you shook your head. "I had no idea he was so motivated."

"Oh, I did," Tai dreamily mumbled.

When I saw the sparks between Tai and Travis, I knew Dean was out of the picture.