Author's Note: I use the name 'Dawn' sometimes when I write about myself,
since it's my middle name and all. Also, I don't want any flames for this.
This was too damn difficult to write…
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Dawn sighed and looked to the right once more. Yup, he was still there…just staring off into space as if blind. She didn't want to be the first to begin a conversation. She wanted to stand up and leave, but she knew she couldn't. His mouth, firm and bitter, opened for a brief second. A silent battle flicked behind his threatening eyes, and Dawn suddenly wondered why he was taking so long to say something. She stared at her sandaled feet and wiggled the toes she saw there. God damnit…she might as well…
"Hi," she said softly, failing to meet his gaze. And then, almost hesitantly, she added, "Piccolo."
He stiffened beside her on the grass. "Hi," he replied.
The two of them lapsed back into silence. Dawn, close to tears, turned away and shook her head. "What's the meaning of this, huh?" she cried. "What's the point of coming back, when you know the feelings I once had for you are gone?" Piccolo merely grumbled deep in his throat.
"I wouldn't be here unless you still had them," he said. "You know that."
Dawn scrambled to her feet and pointed a frantic finger at him. "I hate you! I hate you, Piccolo! I hate how you can see inside me! I hate how you know what I'm feeling, even when I, myself, don't! I hate how you drew me in to your sick little cult show! I hate how I followed you like the mindless, friendless child I was! I was eleven, Piccolo! Eleven, for Christ's sake! So don't even bother coming back here anymore, because I don't want to see you anymore! I'm a junior in highschool, and I gave you up three years ago! Just DEAL with it!"
By this time, she was crying hysterically and not believing what was coming out of her mouth. She sank to her knees with regret and sobbed into the wet grass. And then, suddenly, he was there - his hands planted firmly on her heaving shoulders. Why did he care about her, after all she just told him?
"Shut up," Piccolo said. "Your mind is racing faster than your heart."
"Leave me alone," Dawn snapped callously. "Just leave me alone."
Did she really want that…? What on earth was she saying…? Being in his arms again was soothing, like the embrace of a favorite plush teddy bear. Perhaps that was what he meant to her. Perhaps he was a pleasant memory – something remembered from childhood. She allowed herself a quick smile. His had such warm skin…
"All right," he muttered. "I'll…leave you alone."
He began to move away from her, but Dawn held fast the dark purple fabric on his chest. He couldn't go – not after all of this. Not after she just discovered why she…loved him. "No, wait," she said evenly. Piccolo glanced down at her, his black eyes cold and shifty. Those eyes would open if he ever let them; if he ever realized her true feelings… "Stay here. Stay here, with me. I'm sorry, don't go."
Piccolo took a deep breath and sat back on the spongy grass. "Only if you're sure," he warned.
"I'm sure," Dawn nodded, resting up against him.
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=+=
Dawn sighed and looked to the right once more. Yup, he was still there…just staring off into space as if blind. She didn't want to be the first to begin a conversation. She wanted to stand up and leave, but she knew she couldn't. His mouth, firm and bitter, opened for a brief second. A silent battle flicked behind his threatening eyes, and Dawn suddenly wondered why he was taking so long to say something. She stared at her sandaled feet and wiggled the toes she saw there. God damnit…she might as well…
"Hi," she said softly, failing to meet his gaze. And then, almost hesitantly, she added, "Piccolo."
He stiffened beside her on the grass. "Hi," he replied.
The two of them lapsed back into silence. Dawn, close to tears, turned away and shook her head. "What's the meaning of this, huh?" she cried. "What's the point of coming back, when you know the feelings I once had for you are gone?" Piccolo merely grumbled deep in his throat.
"I wouldn't be here unless you still had them," he said. "You know that."
Dawn scrambled to her feet and pointed a frantic finger at him. "I hate you! I hate you, Piccolo! I hate how you can see inside me! I hate how you know what I'm feeling, even when I, myself, don't! I hate how you drew me in to your sick little cult show! I hate how I followed you like the mindless, friendless child I was! I was eleven, Piccolo! Eleven, for Christ's sake! So don't even bother coming back here anymore, because I don't want to see you anymore! I'm a junior in highschool, and I gave you up three years ago! Just DEAL with it!"
By this time, she was crying hysterically and not believing what was coming out of her mouth. She sank to her knees with regret and sobbed into the wet grass. And then, suddenly, he was there - his hands planted firmly on her heaving shoulders. Why did he care about her, after all she just told him?
"Shut up," Piccolo said. "Your mind is racing faster than your heart."
"Leave me alone," Dawn snapped callously. "Just leave me alone."
Did she really want that…? What on earth was she saying…? Being in his arms again was soothing, like the embrace of a favorite plush teddy bear. Perhaps that was what he meant to her. Perhaps he was a pleasant memory – something remembered from childhood. She allowed herself a quick smile. His had such warm skin…
"All right," he muttered. "I'll…leave you alone."
He began to move away from her, but Dawn held fast the dark purple fabric on his chest. He couldn't go – not after all of this. Not after she just discovered why she…loved him. "No, wait," she said evenly. Piccolo glanced down at her, his black eyes cold and shifty. Those eyes would open if he ever let them; if he ever realized her true feelings… "Stay here. Stay here, with me. I'm sorry, don't go."
Piccolo took a deep breath and sat back on the spongy grass. "Only if you're sure," he warned.
"I'm sure," Dawn nodded, resting up against him.
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