Disclaimer: As much as I think it would be absolutely awesome and
incredible and indescribable and all that other stuff, I don't own DBZ or
any of its original characters. Soooo.....yeah.
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A/N: Please review. It would mean so much to me to know what everyone thought of my work, good or bad.
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They are all staring at me. They think I'm oblivious to their peering eyes, but I know that as long as my own eyes aren't following them that their gaze will once again be set upon me. It's uncomfortable and cryptic to be set under their watch and I fidget wishing to be rid of it. What are they looking at? Those faces, those glances, I can't take it any more. I don't want to be gawked at like this, like an ethereal being.
My legs quickly carry me from the main ruckus of the house to the quiet peace of the living room in long sure strides. I've grown much taller in the past twenty-one months and the hallways of Capsule Corp that once appeared to be long highways to me have become small friendly streets. Finding a suitable place to sit down I allow my feet and body to rest for the moment as my head reclines back into the soft cushioning of the couch.
I miss my dad.
Although I no longer have the privilege of being able to go to him whenever I need to talk or laugh with him about stuff, I can still occasionally feel his spirit residing with me. It hurts, but I understand why he refuses to come back. I can only hope that someday we'll meet again and I'll have the chance to properly apologize for what I've done. I need his forgiveness and it lingers over me everyday that it's my fault he won't return. It's my fault all his friends grieve. It's my fault that he won't be here for my next birthday. It's my fault that my mother weeps every night just before she goes to sleep asking why he left her, and no body answers. It's my fault that dad will never get to see my new baby brother, never get to see him grow up, never even know he exists. It's all my fault, and I will compliantly take the blame.
A small rustling of feet behind me inquires my attention and I turn to meet my mentor standing in the wide doorway looking inquisitively at me. I drop my eyes as he silently stares at me. Our figures stay poised in the same manner for about a minute until he finally speaks up.
"Everyone is looking for you," his deep voice says breaking the now uncomfortable silence. Even talking with Piccolo seems to be eerily constrained and hard. It's almost as if we're strangers just getting to know each other. Unconsciously, I nod my head and get up from my seat to follow him back to party.
After only a few moments, we're there once again and my voice catches in throat as their eyes return to me once more. In the corner of the room, I can see Krillin holding my brother Goten probably to give my mother a rest. Juuhachigou stood beside by him watching the small antics Krillin made to make Goten laugh with mild amusement. She has begun to stay with Krillin and Master Roshi and although she would never admit it, I think she has become somewhat attached to my dad's old friend.
"Gohan!"
I turn to see my mother stalk up to me and angrily put her hands on her hips. "Yes, Mom?"
"Where have you been? I've looked all over for you!! I need you to help me get your brother ready to go, it's getting late and it's not good for him to be out this late. And Gohan..."
My thoughts drift from her incessant scolding back to Krillin and my brother. Ever since dad died, Krillin has been the closest thing to a father I've had. I still hold Piccolo in high respect, but it just seems easier for me to talk to Krillin about things having to do with both my father...and...other stuff that I'm not sure Piccolo would understand. I wonder if Krillin will have to give Goten the same kind of talks he gave me about life. Out of no where, a two year old Trunks has walked over and climbed onto Krillin lap right beside Goten. The two young children stare at each other for a moment before Goten roughly hits Trunks on the top of his lavender head. Shocked for only a brief moment, Trunks pushes him back. Then, they just giggle absently and Trunks climbs down from Krillin's lap to go find his mother. I can already tell that they are going to be best friends when they are older. Sometimes I even...
"Gohan! Are you listening to me?!" Mom yells at me and I slightly cringe under her searing gaze.
"I'm sorry Mom, I guess I...uh.... heh heh," I try to explain while nervously rubbing the back of my head. I stop when I see that her expression has softened and I once again feel uncomfortable.
She sighs and reaches a hand up to the top of my head and half-heartedly muses with my hair. I'm now taller than her by a few inches and she looks up at me, studying me saying nothing. Done with her ministrations to my oddly pointed hair, her small, soft hand traces down the side of my face and rests on my jaw as her thumb sweetly rubs my cheek. I know exactly what she's thinking right now.
I look just like my father.
"Mom," my voice is hushed and strained. "I'll go get our stuff, you just go put Goten in the car and I'll be there in a few moments." I pull away from her before she can say anything, I don't want to hear it.
Striding to the kitchen, I pick up the bag that mom brings everywhere with Goten's bottles and extra diapers. My breath is hard as I try to retain my composure, but I'm slowly loosing my internal war. I can't help it when she looks at me like that. I never asked to be in the guilt of his shadow, yet here I am struggling to be free of this somber eclipse and see the destiny of my own day, but will that ever happen?
Just as I'm beginning to leave the kitchen, another person enters and makes a straight beeline for the fridge. I stop to watch him. His back is turned to me as he scours through the refrigerator's contents. A few impatient curse words are exchanged between him and the glowing machine before he gives it a small kick and closes the door. I can't see his face, but I can guess that there is a scowl playing sadistically across his features. Then, the Saiyan prince turns to me.
Without saying anything, he just stares at me with his unwavering eyes. Trying to be friendlier than he is, I allow a small grin to envelope my face. "How've you been, Vegeta?" my voice feels raspy as I work to keep a chipper edge to my tone. Still he says nothing, just watches me. Apprehensively, I begin to rub the back of my head; it's become a habit I've developed more and more since I was younger. "It sure was nice of Bulma to throw a birthday party for Goten, me and my mom really appreciate it." He stares, his face has lost its scowl, but no emotion has really replaced it.
We're both silent as I begin to step backwards away from him wishing to be relieved of yet another pair of scrutinizing eyes. I can't even imagine what he must be thinking. Involuntarily, I chuckle as I take a few more steps towards the doorway; I want to leave. "Well, I guess I'll see you later," I say. Turning quickly, I start to leave the kitchen, but his deep voice stops me as I hear him almost whisper:
"You're just like your father."
I stand there for a moment, my life caught in my chest and unable to even think. Awkwardly, my feet begin to stagger in front me in my haste to leave and I falter against the counter hitting my stomach against its stiff edge and knocking any remaining air from my lungs. Taking a step back, dismay and anger mounting, my head turns back to where his majesty had stood before he took his silent leave with out even forgetting an emblem or sign of his appearance as though he had whisped away in a seraph's breath. A cold hand places itself on my shoulder and I twist to avoid its touch.
"Gohan?" calls my mother's voice in a slightly annoyed tone. "Where have you been? I told you we needed to leave soon. Where's the bag?"
Grudgingly, I lift my arm revealing the baby-bag in my hand. My thoughts become clouded once again as the incessant yells she utters become just a slur of noise. I can't even hear, don't want to hear her anymore, so I push myself past her and back into the party giving her a scowl full of all the malice I can presently hold for her and everyone else, everyone who has decided to once again bestow their gazes upon me as I enter the room. The scowl remains on my face and I glare as I pass these people I've know all or most of my life. People I have fought to protect in earlier years. People my father died to save. People who quietly blame me for it, but are too scared to actually tell me, or so I believe. Whether or not it's true, I don't really care. I just want to leave.
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(A/N)~ This is probably a really weird, stupid first chapter that has practically no real meaning to anyone, but in the next/last chapter it leads to something and might make more sense. I also know that this isn't my best writing, but I suck major @$$ at writing in first person so I have an excuse.
Shameless Plug~ Please visit my web site at http://www.geocities.com/poppyrulz/BYCD.html. I have more of my work there and…. Yeah. I also post other people's fics so if you want to, please donate something (smiles innocently). And I'm done.
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A/N: Please review. It would mean so much to me to know what everyone thought of my work, good or bad.
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They are all staring at me. They think I'm oblivious to their peering eyes, but I know that as long as my own eyes aren't following them that their gaze will once again be set upon me. It's uncomfortable and cryptic to be set under their watch and I fidget wishing to be rid of it. What are they looking at? Those faces, those glances, I can't take it any more. I don't want to be gawked at like this, like an ethereal being.
My legs quickly carry me from the main ruckus of the house to the quiet peace of the living room in long sure strides. I've grown much taller in the past twenty-one months and the hallways of Capsule Corp that once appeared to be long highways to me have become small friendly streets. Finding a suitable place to sit down I allow my feet and body to rest for the moment as my head reclines back into the soft cushioning of the couch.
I miss my dad.
Although I no longer have the privilege of being able to go to him whenever I need to talk or laugh with him about stuff, I can still occasionally feel his spirit residing with me. It hurts, but I understand why he refuses to come back. I can only hope that someday we'll meet again and I'll have the chance to properly apologize for what I've done. I need his forgiveness and it lingers over me everyday that it's my fault he won't return. It's my fault all his friends grieve. It's my fault that he won't be here for my next birthday. It's my fault that my mother weeps every night just before she goes to sleep asking why he left her, and no body answers. It's my fault that dad will never get to see my new baby brother, never get to see him grow up, never even know he exists. It's all my fault, and I will compliantly take the blame.
A small rustling of feet behind me inquires my attention and I turn to meet my mentor standing in the wide doorway looking inquisitively at me. I drop my eyes as he silently stares at me. Our figures stay poised in the same manner for about a minute until he finally speaks up.
"Everyone is looking for you," his deep voice says breaking the now uncomfortable silence. Even talking with Piccolo seems to be eerily constrained and hard. It's almost as if we're strangers just getting to know each other. Unconsciously, I nod my head and get up from my seat to follow him back to party.
After only a few moments, we're there once again and my voice catches in throat as their eyes return to me once more. In the corner of the room, I can see Krillin holding my brother Goten probably to give my mother a rest. Juuhachigou stood beside by him watching the small antics Krillin made to make Goten laugh with mild amusement. She has begun to stay with Krillin and Master Roshi and although she would never admit it, I think she has become somewhat attached to my dad's old friend.
"Gohan!"
I turn to see my mother stalk up to me and angrily put her hands on her hips. "Yes, Mom?"
"Where have you been? I've looked all over for you!! I need you to help me get your brother ready to go, it's getting late and it's not good for him to be out this late. And Gohan..."
My thoughts drift from her incessant scolding back to Krillin and my brother. Ever since dad died, Krillin has been the closest thing to a father I've had. I still hold Piccolo in high respect, but it just seems easier for me to talk to Krillin about things having to do with both my father...and...other stuff that I'm not sure Piccolo would understand. I wonder if Krillin will have to give Goten the same kind of talks he gave me about life. Out of no where, a two year old Trunks has walked over and climbed onto Krillin lap right beside Goten. The two young children stare at each other for a moment before Goten roughly hits Trunks on the top of his lavender head. Shocked for only a brief moment, Trunks pushes him back. Then, they just giggle absently and Trunks climbs down from Krillin's lap to go find his mother. I can already tell that they are going to be best friends when they are older. Sometimes I even...
"Gohan! Are you listening to me?!" Mom yells at me and I slightly cringe under her searing gaze.
"I'm sorry Mom, I guess I...uh.... heh heh," I try to explain while nervously rubbing the back of my head. I stop when I see that her expression has softened and I once again feel uncomfortable.
She sighs and reaches a hand up to the top of my head and half-heartedly muses with my hair. I'm now taller than her by a few inches and she looks up at me, studying me saying nothing. Done with her ministrations to my oddly pointed hair, her small, soft hand traces down the side of my face and rests on my jaw as her thumb sweetly rubs my cheek. I know exactly what she's thinking right now.
I look just like my father.
"Mom," my voice is hushed and strained. "I'll go get our stuff, you just go put Goten in the car and I'll be there in a few moments." I pull away from her before she can say anything, I don't want to hear it.
Striding to the kitchen, I pick up the bag that mom brings everywhere with Goten's bottles and extra diapers. My breath is hard as I try to retain my composure, but I'm slowly loosing my internal war. I can't help it when she looks at me like that. I never asked to be in the guilt of his shadow, yet here I am struggling to be free of this somber eclipse and see the destiny of my own day, but will that ever happen?
Just as I'm beginning to leave the kitchen, another person enters and makes a straight beeline for the fridge. I stop to watch him. His back is turned to me as he scours through the refrigerator's contents. A few impatient curse words are exchanged between him and the glowing machine before he gives it a small kick and closes the door. I can't see his face, but I can guess that there is a scowl playing sadistically across his features. Then, the Saiyan prince turns to me.
Without saying anything, he just stares at me with his unwavering eyes. Trying to be friendlier than he is, I allow a small grin to envelope my face. "How've you been, Vegeta?" my voice feels raspy as I work to keep a chipper edge to my tone. Still he says nothing, just watches me. Apprehensively, I begin to rub the back of my head; it's become a habit I've developed more and more since I was younger. "It sure was nice of Bulma to throw a birthday party for Goten, me and my mom really appreciate it." He stares, his face has lost its scowl, but no emotion has really replaced it.
We're both silent as I begin to step backwards away from him wishing to be relieved of yet another pair of scrutinizing eyes. I can't even imagine what he must be thinking. Involuntarily, I chuckle as I take a few more steps towards the doorway; I want to leave. "Well, I guess I'll see you later," I say. Turning quickly, I start to leave the kitchen, but his deep voice stops me as I hear him almost whisper:
"You're just like your father."
I stand there for a moment, my life caught in my chest and unable to even think. Awkwardly, my feet begin to stagger in front me in my haste to leave and I falter against the counter hitting my stomach against its stiff edge and knocking any remaining air from my lungs. Taking a step back, dismay and anger mounting, my head turns back to where his majesty had stood before he took his silent leave with out even forgetting an emblem or sign of his appearance as though he had whisped away in a seraph's breath. A cold hand places itself on my shoulder and I twist to avoid its touch.
"Gohan?" calls my mother's voice in a slightly annoyed tone. "Where have you been? I told you we needed to leave soon. Where's the bag?"
Grudgingly, I lift my arm revealing the baby-bag in my hand. My thoughts become clouded once again as the incessant yells she utters become just a slur of noise. I can't even hear, don't want to hear her anymore, so I push myself past her and back into the party giving her a scowl full of all the malice I can presently hold for her and everyone else, everyone who has decided to once again bestow their gazes upon me as I enter the room. The scowl remains on my face and I glare as I pass these people I've know all or most of my life. People I have fought to protect in earlier years. People my father died to save. People who quietly blame me for it, but are too scared to actually tell me, or so I believe. Whether or not it's true, I don't really care. I just want to leave.
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(A/N)~ This is probably a really weird, stupid first chapter that has practically no real meaning to anyone, but in the next/last chapter it leads to something and might make more sense. I also know that this isn't my best writing, but I suck major @$$ at writing in first person so I have an excuse.
Shameless Plug~ Please visit my web site at http://www.geocities.com/poppyrulz/BYCD.html. I have more of my work there and…. Yeah. I also post other people's fics so if you want to, please donate something (smiles innocently). And I'm done.