Author's Notes: Haven't written Dragonball Z in quite a while, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes there may be. This story was inspired by an episode of another anime called Fushigi Yuugi in which a character known as Hotohori married a woman that, in the opinion of many, he married only out of loneliness than love. ^_~ Of course, the decision of whether or not he actually did love her is left to the opinion of the audience. Staying on tangent though, I wrote the story as a sort of ambiguous monologue for a certain male character in DBZ. Could be Vegeta, could be Goku, could be any man who ever loved in DBZ. As to whom it fits best...As with the character Hotohori, I think I'll leave it up to you.
Warnings: Adult references.
Obligatory Disclaimer: I own no part of Dragonball Z or any of its characters.
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Diuturnity
I stare, and you gaze back at me unmoving, unwavering. It never fails to amaze me how something so frail can last so long, yet you have lasted the pain of twenty years marriage to me.
I admire you.
You stand there strong, hiding the pain of your loss behind a face of anger and determination. To many you are haughty and proud, but few realize how little you truly have to be proud about. You are bitter because it is the only thing you have left.
Dignity.
I took that from you, didn't I? Stole from you, used you. From you I took my physical pleasures and left only ashes. From you a child was born, not of love, but of marital obligation. The second I gave to you out of pity. I reveled in your flesh, but never your soul. I understood little of your compassions; your words of wisdom were lost on me.
It was a promise that bound us and love that tore us apart. You watched and grieved as I fought on, but when our second child came into this world, I simply nodded and moved on. Your tears were simply wasted water, my soul a lost cause. Though you kept the immortal ring of marriage bound tightly to your fingers as if it were your only lifeline, I knew, towards the end, how very little it meant.
When I would return to you, though our intimate encounters were few and meaningless, there was never any hint of the anger and bitterness that destroyed your spirit and body as the years passed.
It shows now. In the grey of your hair, the wrinkles of your aged visage, and the dull emptiness of your eyes. How I miss your eyes. When we were younger, before I killed you, your eyes had always been so youthful and bright, lively and loving. Of all the things I am ashamed of, I think it was watching the light fade from your eyes that bothers me the most.
Finally, I'm home to stay, and you continue to gaze at me with eyes that say everything and yet nothing.
We are together now. Forever.
I reach out a hand to yours, and our fingers brush lightly, life meeting long dormant warmth. Our eyes meet again.
You ask me if I love you.
I pull my hand away ashamedly.
And the only thought that crosses my mind is how we made it this far...
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Short, I know, but I think it gets the point across. Read and review if you're apt! Oh, by the way, diuturnity is synonymous with enduring or for those who are unsure.