Hey guys. I was with my little cousin and he was watching All Grown Up and I use to love that when I was younger. I checked out a couple of the fanfics and I was like, there's no depressing ones! I was so shocked I had to write something like this. Where Tommy isn't how you expected and he doesn't want to fix it or anything. This was a one time thing but I hope you enjoy.

Also, I started rewriting for one of my older stories which I kinda forgot about so this was to help me get back in the writing spirit, although I don't like this story so much. I didn't write it too well, in my opinion. It's just to get me back on track.

Plot: He wanted to laugh, to fall to the floor in hysterics. So naive, thats what they all were. So funny, how wrong people could be. It was just so funny. Maybe he'd call it defiance, to be something other then what they expected. If only they realized sooner, there was a big difference between imagination and life.

Pairings: None but mention of one-sided TommyxKimi and TommyxLil

Warning: This may contain swearing (I'm not bothered to actually look for it) and does contain mention of drugs. Also, the flight number in this fic as far as I know is not real, just a bunch of random numbers an letters I typed in.

Disclaimer: I do not own All Grown Up or Rugrats.

XxXxXxXx

Be and Become

"Attention. Attention! The passengers of flight 779F2's baggage is unavailable and currently being unloaded. It is untransferable at the moment. We apologize for this possible delay and hope you have a safe journey." The loud speaker's shrill voice burst to life, ringing throughout the airport. Once the announcement ended with a piercing squeak chatter broke out between the occupants of the large building, all angry words towards the laborers here and the airline, some sighs of annoyance at the unfortunate event.

I heard one women, who was quite obese, screech out in a high-pitched voice that sounded remarkably like the mean pink lady in Harry Potter from the Order that she and her family would be late for their next flight to New York. I worried, for a brief moment that she would start to crawl into the tube in which the luggage is rolled out of to try and find the reason behind the absence of our baggage, but it was gone just as soon as it came. She wouldn't fit down the tube.

I was fine with this. Sure, it was an annoying issue and I am dead tired but what can you do? Life ain't easy. This was just a normal day for me. I'm surprised the plane didn't just explode, or the engine didn't suddenly catch fire and leave us plummeting towards the ground below. I'd even go as far as to consider this lucky. Anyways, this has to be better then my brothers pigsty of an apartment. At least here the air was only contaminated by disease and germs, not fungus growing off food left all around the house.

Maybe I could clean it, although I was hoping to spend as little time there as possible. Maybe rent out a hotel room, my bro will understand. I'll just tell him I don't like the mess. He'll believe that! No need to tell the truth. He doesn't need to know that. I'd really be saving him. It's for his own good.

I close my eyes, running a hand through my dark purple spikes. They had grown longer over the years, not by much but it was a difference. The rest of me had changed drastically. I grew to be tall, although surprisingly not as tall as Dil. My face lost all baby fat, leaving it slender. My skinny body grew some muscle, leaving me lean and strong. My dark eyes grew even darker, almost black. My creamy pale skin remained unblemished and contrasted well with my dark hair and eyes. My style also changed as I grew. I now had my left ear pierced with a silver stud and a black eyebrow piercing in the shape of a spike. I'm wearing dark denim jeans and a black high collared jacket over a grey shirt. Black combat boots don my feet, my favorite pair. A loose chain is wrapped around my waist like a belt. Some would call me a punk, I disagree. I just have a different taste in clothing.

It's been six years since I graduated from High School. It's been eight years since I've seen one of my childhood friends. Seven since I've actually talked to one of them. Surprise you? Not me. I would consider this normal. We were never meant to be friends.

And this leads me on to the most prominent thought on my mind lately. I'm 24 years old and I can't remember my childhood. Well, it's not really that I can't remember it, it's that I don't believe it. I mean, seriously, would you believe you saved your little gang of baby friends on a daily bases? All those memories; lies.

I never risked my and the others lives for a ball that Angelica threw over the wall into the next yard.

I never went on a journey through a supermarket looking for Reptar Cereal alone.

I never went with Chuckie to 'Mirrorland'.

I never went searching for nickels but bypassing dollars and jewelry.

I never lost Angelica's doll and then pretend to be 'Wavy Seals' in order to save it.

Nothing. All lies. And it's all lies because it's impossible. A baby can't do that. And then I wonder why. Why did I come up with such adventures throughout my babyhood? Was I that desperate for a different life. Was I that desperate to be the hero of the story.

It makes somewhat sense, I guess. I'm a writer now. A director of movies. I've always had a amazing imagination. I'm now famous. The only thing preventing me from being mobbed right now are my black aviator sunglasses, my white Dr. Dre Beats and the hood of my jacket being pulled up to cover me.

But then the question is as to why? Was it from my parents constant fighting? I hadn't realized how bad it was till I hit the age of seven. When I look through my past now, only vague memories of their fights come up, but they're definitely there. Was it the fact that I had to stay at my cousin Angelica's house more then normal when her mother would come over to find my parents at war and didn't think it was a suitable environment for children. Was it a call for attention from my oblivious parents?

"Warning: Please keep your baggage on you at all time. Do not leave your baggage unattended. Unattended baggage can be taken and may be destroyed." The speaker came to life once again. I gripped my computer bag tighter in response. It has all my work on it.

My parents are long dead. Murdered when on holiday. I was only sixteen then. Grandpa could only take one of us, he was getting quite old and my aunt couldn't take any. She was struggling with only Angelica. The decision was easy. I was sent to the orphanage and Dil went to Gramps. I was the oldest. I had to take care of my younger brother.

I left the area, going from on the borders of Los Angeles all the way to near San Francisco. I kept in contact with Dil, but just barely. When I turned eighteen I left the orphanage as soon as possible and got myself an apartment. I struggled to live each day but I'd take it on my own any day rather then in that hell.

I tried to kill myself once. When I was 21 years old. It was a spur of the moment thing. Dil had just gotten into a bad accident when Grandpa crashed the car. He had a heart attack while driving. Grandpa died. I moved back to the outskirts of LA soon after. Dil had only just turned twenty then. I couldn't leave him alone although I am only a year older. I cut myself a couple times after, desperate for some release.

When I turned twenty-three, I left again. I had to pursue my dream and I left to do that. A year later, I directed two of the most popular movies and am practically a star. I'm just going home to visit Dil. We never got the house we were born in, our parents debt being too high so I stay at Dil's apartment. Fun.

God. I want a smoke. That might be a bit of a shock too. I, one of the most courageous and spectacular of the babies is smoking. Yep. Addicted more like it. It comes with the job. The pressure is too much and as nice as the illegal drugs are, I don't need to be going to rehab so I stick to the more liked of drugs. I want the nicotine right now! To feel it coursing through my veins, to relax me. I hate flying.

I wonder if I'll see Chucky, or Lil or Phil. Or any of the old group really. Probably not. Both Lil and Kimi hate me. Funny thing that was. Screwed up the group even more.

You see, the day I was leaving I couldn't find Lil to say goodbye. Me and Chuckie split up to look for her. I found her at a nearby park. When I went to sit down next to her on the bench, I didn't notice the tears. I smiled and began talking about anything. Trying to get the thought of leaving off my mind. She turned to me, mid sentence and I paused at her tear-streaked face.

"Tommy," She said. "I love you." And I just sat there. I had no clue what to do. She loved me? I don't believe in love. Not this kind. Not so sudden. I believe you have to build love, you don't just wake up one day and fall for someone just like that.

"But I know you like someone else. I understand." She had said, a smile though the tears. "But I don't want what happened to me to happen to you. Go tell her, Tommy. Tell Kimi your feelings before she moves on. Tell her because right now she doesn't realize it. But when you tell her, she will. So go, now!" And then she was gone. I never saw her again. Not even to say goodbye.

And so I went to Kimi. I asked her what Lil meant. Sure, I thought Kimi was cute but I didn't want to date her. I didn't tell Kimi this, of course, though. Kimi didn't know either. I left confused. Got a call from Kimi a couple of days later where she confessed to me as well, then hung up. And that was it. Never spoke to them again.

Phil and Chuckie tried to keep in contact. Didn't work out too well. Soon I lost all my childhood friends. I didn't notice it. Didn't miss it.

Once I asked Dil what he remembered of his babyhood. He said nothing, like a normal person would, but then again, he was younger then me. I crave to ask someone else, someone who might understand. To ask maybe Chuckie, or one of them. I want to know if it was me trying to make my childhood better. Trying to fool myself into thinking everything was okay. I want to know if I imagined it all.

Of course I did. It's impossible. But why did it feel so real. Why do I want it to be real? Am I that insecure?

I'm weak. Even when I was a teenager I was considered the strongest-willed. The one with the courageous heart. The leader, but that's only because they saw what they wanted to see. Or maybe they saw what I wanted them to see. A fake mask to hide the crying child inside.

They were wrong about me. I am not a good person. I have done bad things. I'm weak-willed. I give in to things. I can't ever win. I like pain. I hate myself. It's funny, really. How mistaken they were. I'd laugh in their faces right now if I saw them and I'd say "See! This is who I really am. I proved you all wrong. I came out to be the opposite of what you all expected, wanted. I'm a failure!" And I'd laugh some more, because while I may be famous and rich, I'm just like the next self-loathing superstar. Taken by the fame and controlled by my job. I don't mind being a failure, because it means they were the one who made the error in the long run. To think I'd become something. A good person. I like being a mistake. It makes me real.

"Attention: The baggage for flight 779F2 will be coming out shortly. Please do not sit on or touch the conveyer belt. We are sorry for the delay." I see the lady from earlier drag down an employ to the belt, saying something about compensation.

I grab my bag and leave, walking through the small exit into the crowd of people. I wonder how they know which exit you will be coming out of, maybe there's only one. I see Dil in the distance. He's talking to someone, grinning like a fool. Same old Dil.

As I make my way over to him he notices me and quickly runs over, waving bye to the person over his shoulder. I have to look up at him, he's so tall. He grips me in a hug and pulls me close, telling me how happy he is to see me. I try to smile in return.

"Tommy, have you been eating properly? You're even skinnier then last time I saw you!" He frets, just like our mother should have but never did.

I don't know how to answer. When did I last eat? Definitely not on the plane, that's disgusting. And not the day before that either, I was too nervous. And no the day before that either, I was to busy with work. I grin. "Course I have. You're imagining it."

"Whatever! I made dinner so you better eat in!" He yells.

"So, in other words, you're ordering pizza?"

"Chinese. I like the chou mang!" I smile. I like that too. We exit the building and I take a deep breath of the fresh air, finding it not to my liking. I dig though my bag for a cigarette and finding one, I light it before taking a deep suck of it, inhaling the chemical gas. I hold it in for as long as I can, missing the feel before breathing out, the smoke puffing away in the wind.

"I thought you said you'd stop."

"I will."

"When."

"Sometime. Doesn't matter. Lets go." Dil takes my bag from me, dragging it along and I follow to his car, a jeep.

What was my babyhood? Real? My imagination? A world I created so I could do whatever I pleased. Be whatever I wanted. Was it some sick fantasy that now comes to haunt me because it felt so real but isn't. To play with my mind and cloud my thoughts. Was it what I wanted to be like? Who I wanted to be. I don't think I want to know the answer.

Maybe, it was. It was who I thought I'd grow up to be. That kind of person. So, I guess I'll be laughing at myself too, not only my friends and family. I failed myself. I did not succeed in what I wanted to become. Sure, I am a director. I am renowned. A glamorous life. But I am not truly nice because I can be. I do not give without wanting something in return. But then again, who does?

Which one of us is real? The person I wanted to be, or the person I have become?

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Thank for reading. Sorry if it's a bit confusing. Ps. This might be deleted in the future. Sorry.

Please review! :D

Coolbluerocke