"Wait, let me get this straight: you called me out here in the middle of the night– to ask me to throw my cousin to the wolves?"
"Don't be melodramatic, Goten. I'm doing him a favour."
"Boy… I sure would hate for you to do me any 'favours'."
"C'mon, man. Just do this one thing for me and I'll owe you big time."
"You wanna level with me and tell me what this is really about, Trunks?"
"I want to. And I will! But for now, I just need you to agree to this, okay? I'll tell you all about it—all of it! some other time. This is urgent. Please…"
"Give me a good reason or I'm not buying. Why do we have to be sneaky about this if you're doing it for him? I'd really rather not be involved in any of your shady vainglorious shenanigans…"
"You know how Gohan is… He's stubborn as a bull when he wants something. And he wants Cello Maoh unlike anything."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Someone has to knock some sense into him– show him that he should be careful what he wishes for… And I need your help to do just that…"
"You're so full of shit."
"Look, it's hard to explain! I just need you to trust me on this one!"
"Well, good luck with that, because I don't. Imma goin' back to bed."
"No, wait! Please, man…"
"What are you really up to, Trunks?"
"I promise. If you do this for me, I'll do anything you ask me to—whatever it is you want."
"Too bad, 'cause I don't want anything from you."
"Aw, c'mon! There's gotta be something? It doesn't have to be right now… You're… You're the only one who can help me. I *need* this to happen."
"Gods, you're dogged desperation for revenge is pathetic."
"I'm not—hey, who said anything about revenge…?!"
"The only time you're not your cool and composed narcissistic self is when you're itching to get even with someone… or something."
"That's totally not what's happening here, at all. I swear! You'll see."
"I really don't like this… But I can see you that won't be dissuaded. Fine."
"So you'll help me?"
"Yeah."
"For real?"
"On one condition."
…
…
"Are you defending someone in particular, Mai? Why don't you let him speak for himself?"
"N-no, I—"
"After all, despite all the nasty rumours, we all know that the boy you like isn't gay… Isn't that right, Trunks, darling?"
"…Huh?"
"Oh my gosh, were you daydreaming…? That's adorable! Who're you daydreaming about? Oh dear…!
"…Don't tell me it's Cello Maoh?"
8
Day-Dreams
One week. That was my first thought as I woke up that morning to another day of school, another day of unprecedented normalcy. One full week of no bullies, no fights. I'm convinced that I might've displaced myself in some eerily peaceful parallel dimension when I defied the unnatural disorder of things. Or maybe I died in my last fight and came face to face with heaven for a whole fifteen minutes, and everything that followed—this, here, now—was all just some bogus afterlife dream.
From the moment I got up until I stepped into my first class that day, I didn't notice much of anything around me. My mind was too busy gambolling in "what if's of what I almost had and what could almost be – which was really only second to nothing yet altogether far more exciting than my previous version of reality. It's pathetic, I know. I'm still locked in from the inside with that memory of our first civilized encounter, in what I liked to imagine was a stone's throw away from friendship… And wouldn't that be something? What if I actually got to be friends with Cello Maoh? What if I finally got her to smile?
But did it really happen? Was it even real? Sometimes, I got too happy thinking about it that I'd start getting afraid of waking up and finding that it was all just a dream. Nothing stopped feeling like one ever since…
Because, Cello Maoh has pushed away every single person who has ever tried to get close to her. She has kicked and scratched and punched and screamed at all of them… and once upon a time– at yours truly. When something so out of the ordinary happens, it becomes the hardest thing in the world to believe. But we want to believe it all the same. And it really felt like world I knew had rewritten its own genetic blueprint of history to do with the obstreperous and intractable force of nature that was Cello Maoh, for her to look at me and talk to me that way.
But who was I kidding? Technicalities didn't really matter anymore—if it did at all. Here I was, trying to rationalize how something too good to be true was, for once, actually true; when I rationale wasn't even a factor when I first got on board this whole crazy ride, reality be damned. I reckon, I earned every single minute of my "little" victory; I deserved to wallow in it for even just bit longer before I woke up back on the grim side of reality. Besides, after a week's worth of overthinking about the whole conundrum of my life story's sudden and unexpected twist, my brain felt as beat as the rest of me. Now that things have settled down somewhat, I guess it was no surprise that my epinephrine-pumped body finally let up and allowed the fatigue to seep in. It wasn't a shocker that I still had much recovering to do from the last thrashing I survived either. Even if I barely remember the details, the aftermath of injuries said it all: it was definitely the most brutal one to date. I don't know how I managed to outlive it, but I'm sure I owe it to an incredible stroke of luck or some divine intervention (or both).
Naturally, whatever parts of me that made it out were being put through the wringer—it's always after all the fighting where you truly feel the extent of the damage; and the sudden downshift to a relatively inactive lifestyle only made the pain stand out even more. There wasn't any adrenaline left in my veins to numb me. My muscles felt like they were being ground to mush, the slightest movement was agonizing torture, and my skin was a camouflage of bruises of all imaginable shapes, colours, and sizes. Fortunately, I was still able to hide the limp from my left fractured fibula; and barring exceptionally toasty weather days, I managed to discreetly layer up to cover my traumatized flesh. The waters were still now, but I wasn't about to get complacent and clue in anyone on the fact that it was the perfect time to get back at me for whatever damage I've dealt them. With the present state of me? Damn, it was already taking everything I've got just to pretend that I could still walk properly or even move at all without flinching. And all things considered, I don't think my adrenaline reserves will be replenished anytime soon…
All in all, these past few days have been so exhausting that it made me want to do nothing but sleep. Weirdly, in a sick sort of way, it made those days where I had to fight bullies seem less stressful. I've had a feeling that it wasn't just boredom after all; I suspect that I've already acclimatised to getting roughed up on a daily basis. It wasn't healthy. Of course, I was aware of that. I knew I was only addicted to the violence because the reward centres of my brain have learnt to associate pain and punishment with the highest gratification: getting closer to Cello Maoh. But honestly, if I had a choice in the way things turned out… if it boiled down to choosing between keeping up this crazy way of life just to get close to Cello Maoh or actually seeing the end of all the senseless stupid brawls and going back to my boring old life… I'd take it. Because I would rather that everyone just left Cello Maoh alone… Even if it meant that I'd never get an excuse to get close to her again.
With these weighty thoughts and feelings gripping me, my head was on my desk before I could stop myself, and just like that, I was thoroughly relaxing against its cold, smooth surface as soon as I settled into my chair for that morning's first class… Our Worlds History professor is so old that he could barely see beyond a few feet ahead of him even with those thick-rimmed eyeglasses that he always wore at the very brink of his bony nose. I took comfort in the tried and tested fact that he wouldn't see nor suspect me of slacking off during his period so I gave in and let my tired mind and body drift off with his consistent droning monotone transporting me swiftly to the land of z's.
Interestingly, my dream picked up where my reality left off. And, of course, Cello Maoh would be in it… She comes in ten minutes into the lesson and no one bothers to hide their shock except Professor Elderkai who just gives a noncommittal grunt and a dismissive wave of the hand for her to quickly take a seat; announcing to the entire class that group work was about to start and that everyone should pair up in two minutes. I scoffed to myself, sure without a doubt now that I was dreaming, I would know. After all, it was none other than yours truly, who took pains to transfer to as many classes as I could that had Cello Maoh in it… Only to find out that she hardly ever showed—no, she never showed up even once, as far as I heard, since the current school-year began. Her showing up for Worlds History was laughable implausibility, even by dream standards.
Beneath heavily lidded eyes, I watched this "dream" Cello Maoh look around for a place to sit. I willed her to come and sit with me, and felt a thrill rush up from my gut to my fingertips when she notices me at once. Heh. Definitely a dream. My dream self flashes her an affectation of a smile worthy of a toothpaste commercial and suavely waves her over. She offers her own radiant smile, blue eyes twinkling and all, as she makes her way to my dream self's desk. I feel my actual heart melting at the picture of resplendent perfection that has graced me. Oh, Kamisama, thank you! Cello Maoh truly is the most dazzling creature in the universe…! But right before she reaches my dream self, my view of her gets obstructed by another girl who unceremoniously—and rather anticlimactically—takes the vacant seat right across me…
Wait… What…? No, that chair was reserved for Cello Maoh! No… This is not how it's supposed to be…! I want this stupid dream to stop right now!
"STOP!"
It took some seconds of rapid blinking and deep breaths before my mind finally caught up to my body wide awake. I don't really remember getting on my feet or knocking down my chair, but I was pretty sure the feelings of mortification and dread blowing up in my face at that moment as the entire class eyed me wearily was something that was going to be very hard to forget…
"Mr Son, what in blazes is the problem?"
"Err…"
It was a dream. Cello Maoh isn't here!
Well, duh! What were you expecting, Gohan?
"I- uhh…"
Before I could continue making a dumbass of myself in front of the whole class, the sliding door to the classroom flew open. And just like that, everyone forgot about me and the embarrassing little scene I had created. I couldn't believe my eyes! My saviour was standing by the doorway, like a boss, unperturbed by all the eyes on her, and how the entire room was suddenly abuzz with loud whispers and murmurs of scepticism and disbelief.
I gushed inwardly. Before I remembered to second guess myself. Was I still dreaming?
"Oh! Well, look who's here. How nice of you to join us, Ms Maoh."
I would have given props to my teacher for remembering the name of a student who never came to his class; but I was too busy being dumbstruck and pinching myself to make sure that I was really awake this time… Because I was pretty sure I was still asleep and that I just had one of those things were you woke up in another dream…
"The world must be ending if the great Cello Maoh is attending class."
A round of sniggering followed, which Professor Elderkai was quick to extinguish with a jarring slam of his palm to his desk.
"Find a seat, Ms Maoh, and the rest of you, settle down! Group activity is about to begin."
All throughout, I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe because my heart once again felt like it was being trampled by a mad stampede of skittish horses; too busy trying not to stare as the girl of both my figurative and literal dreams coolly and casually scanned the room for a vacant chair…
"For goodnessakes, Mr Son, stop your silly daydreaming and be seated!"
Now, I'm was too busy trying not to freak out as thanks to our professor, her eyes found me and all I could do was freeze up some more as she held my gaze for some heart-stopping moments… Before she slowly made her way over and…
Took the vacant seat…
Across me.
At my table.
Miraculously, my body remembered how to move, and with much stiffness, I pulled up my fallen chair and finally managed to sink back into it.
"Now, if everyone has found a partner, I'd like you to open your books to page two-hundred and seventy-four…"
Huh?
Partner.
Wait, did Cello Maoh just choose me as her partner…?
I'm hallucinating, right? Or having some kind of funky-weird dream déjà vu… I must be. Because…
How can this be?
Cello Maoh is actually here now?
In front of me. Staring back at me.
Cello Maoh is my partner.
Hm.
No.
Fucking.
Way…
What is happening…?
There's no fucking way this is real…!
End of Chapter 8
Continued in Chapter 9: "Topsy-Turvy"…
Replies to Reviews:
To XZanayu: Sorry, I forgot to put in my reply to your last review (it has been a while). Yes, so far, Cello hasn't killed Gohan… Yet. Yes, there is a sliver of hope there for our valiant young hero! He may have cracked Cello's thick armour of indifference, we'll see… 8D As always, thank you bunches and bunches for taking time to leave feedback! It's really adds to my HP level, haha, or should I say: "IP" (as in "Inspiration Points") level. XD
To Guest (1): Oh, forgive me if I didn't know, haha. Unless a writer has telepathy, I doubt they will know how readers feel unless readers communicate with them. So, thanks for the sweet sentiment! I'm happy you found some time to actually let me know that. :DDD
To Guest (2): I really don't understand the entirety of what you're trying to say, but saying this isn't a self-insert? That's a wonderful compliment! Thank you, I'm flattered!