Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Sad Song Series ❯ Can't Take My Eyes Off You ( Chapter 1 )

He watched him, fighting and laughing, going through the motions with an invisible partner. He stayed in the shadows, ki so low he was nonexistent. He was nonexistent. He didn’t exist in that world, where what he wanted smiled and played, where he pretended that his stalker did not exist.

Did he know that he watched him? Was it telling in the flick of his tail, in the way he never quite showed his back to the watcher? Sometimes he was sure their eyes met through the shadows. Met in the shadows between them while his prey danced lightly in the sun, sweat glistening on his bare skin.

If he knew he was being watched, then did he take off his shirt on purpose?

He and gnawed briefly on his lower lip and ran his tongue over them, eyes pinning that form where it glided and stalked his sparring partner. Could he feel him there, despite the hiding of his ki? They shared a rapport, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, no matter how much those words had fallen from his lips.

‘I think you should leave.’

His tail lashed out behind him before he could curl it back around his waist, and he stilled. But no, they had not heard him. They continued their dance. As long as he stayed here and was quiet, he could pretend he didn’t know he was there.

The day was ending, and he didn’t want it to end. He wanted to capture this moment, just like he did every night. He didn’t want to feel that hollowness enter him. He didn’t want to go sniffing around the ground where the other had landed from a lucky hit. He didn’t want to curl there and imagine the warmth of the body had somehow been soaked into the dirt.

He didn’t want to go home either. Home was empty now. It had been for years. Both of their wives were dead. Their kids were grown, with lives of their own. They visited. They sparred. But at the end of the day they went home. He didn’t want to go home and curl into bed and stare at the walls.

Most of all, he didn’t want to continue this charade. He didn’t want to take his eyes off him. He couldn’t, despite the words and the warnings. They had been brought into one being not once but twice. They had shared thoughts and feelings and their innermost core with each other.

The first time he had been so resentful. He had been confused and didn’t believe—couldn’t believe—that what he experienced inside the other man had been real. Those feelings, those thoughts, those actions and the reasons behind them were alien to him. Even though he’d admitted the man was better, was stronger, coming to grips with what he’d been shown had been harder.

The second time he had been willing. He’d wanted to prove himself wrong. He’d wanted to throw solid evidence in front of the part of his mind that refused to swallow what it had been fed.

He’d gotten more than he’d bargained for.

The fourth level was more primal, more instinctive. He’d been able to control it somewhat, just as he could control his Oozaru form. Inside Kakarott though, there was a great confusion.

Outwardly he was focused, intense, knew what he had to do and was doing it. Inside he was a mess of questions with seemingly no answers. He’d wanted to taste blood, to revel in the terror he could inflect on his enemy. Even at his worst, he had never felt anything like that.

It was easy to insert himself. It was simple to glide right through Kakarott’s defenses and show him, to place order to the chaos, to guide and direct the thoughts, to show him, to teach.

But he hadn’t realized that he’d kept a part of himself hidden from Kakarott, that he’d had his own walls and barricades. In entering Kakarott’s domain, he exposed himself fully.

He’d felt a tingle of recognition in the other, and suddenly he was Kakarott, Kakarott was him. They were one, and they liked it.

When they’d finally split, Vegeta had felt it. A part of himself was with Kakarott, and a part of Kakarott was with him….

That was why he was here, watching him. That was why he was here every night. He had to see. He had to touch. He had to talk.

Vegeta watched Kakarott sit down. He sat with his legs folded, stared pointedly right where Vegeta hid, and then lay down.

Holding his breath, Vegeta waited. He was falling asleep? He supposed it made sense. He had worked later than usual. But…then why look over at him?

Maybe—maybe he wanted him to come to him? Maybe he’d thought it over, realized Vegeta was right?

He would’ve snorted if he could. Ridiculous….

Yet he still found himself moving from his perch, sliding down from the tree and hitting the ground softly. He padded over without a sound, crouching low to the ground and finally stopping right next to the other.

His eyes were closed. His brows were furrowed slightly, as if he’d already entered into a dream he didn’t quite like.

Vegeta watched his chest rise and fall. He listened to him breath. He watched the way his lashes fell across his skin. He leaned over precariously, his gloved hands coming to hover on either side of Kakarott’s face. He was inches from the other’s face.

He stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time, staring into that rest-filled face. He blinked then, noticing the eyes were open, looking at him.

He started to draw back and two hands caught his wrists, pulling him closer. He gasped and then bit back another rushed breath at the feeling of their bodies barely pressed together. Heat emanated from both of them, and he wanted to sink into it. He wanted to just curl around it and lay with him, just be with him. But Kakarott’s stare was hard; his eyes were cold.

Why were they cold? Kakarott’s eyes were never cold.

“Why do you do this?”

“Kakarott….”

“Every night you do this. All day you think about it and then when night comes you make your dreams your reality.”

“I—”

“Leave it alone, Vegeta. Let it go. It can’t happen.”

“But….” He leaned in as the hands released him, as they drew along his cheeks and into his hair. They held him back. They wouldn’t let him bury his face against Kakarott’s neck.

“No buts. You know. Why won’t you admit it to yourself?”

“It’s not true. Don’t say it.” Vegeta’s words were hushed, but the steel behind them was real.

“I’m not here.”

“No!”

“I’m not real.”

“No! No!”

“I’m dead, Vegeta.”

With a roar Vegeta broke free of the hold, pounding his fists into the ground where Kakarott should’ve been, where he had been.

He curled into ground, feeling for the warmth, phantom scents and touches caressing him. He curled into the ground and wept. NEXT