Daria and Tom sat in a booth at Pizza King, every few minutes taking bites when they weren't getting easily distracted into conversation with one another.
"Have you ever listened to The Beatles?" Tom asked suddenly, although it came out more as an abrupt blurt than what he had intended.
"No, but I've listened to The Beetles; with two E's. They're like The Beatles but instead they go fashion-forward." Daria paused. "Yes, I have. They're not so bad. Why?"
"I was just thinking of this song they covered..."
"Let me guess, 'Baby, Baby, Do You Love Me'?" she quipped.
"Close." Tom's expression shattered into a small smile. "No, it was 'You Really Got A Hold On Me'."
Daria didn't say anything as she took a sip of her Ultra Cola.
"John sang it. John Lennon."
"Oh wow, you've done your research. And for that, you get the satisfaction of knowing your John's and how proud Yoko would be, if she knew."
"He kind of looked like you."
Daria frowned.
"What?" she spat, confusion and slight offense slipping as she put down her cup.
"Don't take it the wrong way, Daria, he was a good-looking guy. The glasses really seal the deal."
"Would you like to get assassinated too?"
"See, the song made me think of you. Of us."
"Don't switch the topic."
"I'm not, it's just I got distracted."
"No you didn't."
"Nevermind."
"That was a backhanded compliment Sandi Griffin might give if she had any knowledge past 1993."
Tom chuckled.
"Daria, I didn't mean it like that."
Daria glared at him, arms crossed.
"I'm gonna go. Sick, Sad World has a special I just can't miss."
"Daria!"
Daria rose to her feet and walked out.
"Damn, now I have to pay."
Daria started walking home, startled as Tom caught up with her.
"What was that for? You made me pay the check."
"Your family is loaded with money, what's the problem?"
Daria didn't even try to maintain eye contact with the sea-green-eyed boy as she purposefully trudged.
"Come on, you know I didn't mean the Lennon thing as an insult." Tom let out his hand as if to direct it somewhere, but more so making a point with emphasis.
"No, of course not, because being compared to a guy who was shot for having opinions is very virtuous of you."
"Okay, okay—bad comparison." Tom looked to the side in embarrassment. "But I shouldn't have to be publicly abashed by my own girlfriend. Can I have a do-over?"
"Fine, but if you say Ringo, I'm considering the assassination. After all, if he got assassinated for having opinions, why not someone else?"
"Ringo isn't that bad. But I was going to say George. Quiet, occasionally spiritual in a disturbing way, and somewhat loyal."
"He's not loyal, and I'm not occasionally spiritual, I'm never spiritual."
"Daria..."
"I guess I see the similarities, but not in a overt way by any means."
"Thank you."
"But I'll never be able to get a chiseled jawline like that, no matter how much plastic surgery I get."
"True." he nodded.
It stayed silent for the rest of the walk to Daria's, until they reached the door, where he peck her on the lips and they said their goodbyes.
"Uh, Quinn?" Daria came into the living room.
"Uh!" Quinn faced her sister.
"Were you just sucking face with Stacy?"
"No. Of course not. I was simply applying this new, really cute lipstick I found. Get your facts straight." Quinn lied, showcasing her few month old lipstick that she found under her bed earlier.
"H-hi!" Stacy squeaked.
"Uh huh."
"Get out of here, Daria!" Quinn waved a hand dismissively.
But Daria did the opposite, and sat down on the couch right beside the duo who were sitting on their knees on the floor.
"Sick, Sad World has a special and I don't want to miss it, so, find somewhere else to tend to your amorous activities."
"You have a freakin' TV upstairs!"
"Oops!" Quinn quickly put her hand over her mouth.
"Where's the other two Fashion Fiends?" Daria picked up the remote.
"Well, let's see... Sandi's sick, with some icky cough, and Tiffany's upstairs plucking her eyebrows—but she's taking forever!"
"Oh, so you decided to occupy yourselves then?"
Quinn scowled and didn't reply.
A day later, Tom called and showed up.
"Hey, I wanted to play that song. I got the record." Tom lifted it and pointed to it with his free hand.
"Oh, so you really are going old-fashioned."
"No kidding." Quinn muttered as she passed by.
Daria watched Quinn pass as she smirked at the retort, but stopped soon enough once she realized.
The couple sat in Daria's room, where they set a rusty record player from Helen and Jake's hippy days on the bed. Daria observed as Tom inserted the record and pushed a button.
Tom and Daria stared intensely at it, waiting for the music to begin.
"So, when does the music start? Do you just wait and if you squint hard enough, you'll start hearing melodies?"
"That's only if you've gone crazy." Tom retorted as he pointed at her casually.
"Assuming I haven't already."
A few seconds later, Helen bursted into the room, causing both Daria and Tom to go 'Aaa!'.
"Hi, Daria, Tom! What's that doing in here? I thought Jake threw that thing out..."
"We're trying to see if we can summon John Lennon by doing a seance with this record player. Quinn's idea. So far, no luck. Maybe Tom'll get his money back."
"Dari—" Helen's words spilled into laughter. "Alright, well, if you want any snacks, I'll be in the kitchen. Have fun!"
The music began, crackly at first, then much more clear. Tom turned it up, which meant Quinn overheard and had to be nosy about it.
"Daria! Why're you listening to old British music? That guy sounds like he's dying. And those are like, his last words. I mean, what kind of guy's last words are," Quinn started to speak in a singsong voice, "Just hold me, hold me, hold me, hold me?"
"Alright, Quinn, but I don't think that's something I can imagine. Besides, how do you know he's British? He could be Australian."
"What?" Quinn put her hands on her hips.
"Nevermind."
"You'll get it when you're older, kid." Tom added sarcastically.
"Okay, thanks, but I don't really care about your guys vintage music." Quinn turned on her heel and walked out dramatically.
"That's quite the exit." Tom thought aloud.
"And that's only her exit, have you seen her entrance?"
Tom shuddered.
"Um, I guess I understand why you thought of us. If this is your way of politely breaking up with me, wait until the aliens take over, that way I'll be by my lonesome self."
"No, no, I'm not trying to break up with you. You'll be by your lonesome self with a Beatles record. Convenient, huh?" Tom said playfully.
No response.
"I'm kidding. We should do this more often, you're less mushy."
Daria started to smile, a small one, and proceeded to lean in the same time Tom did and kiss him.