Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Young Man's Heart ❯ So Real ( Chapter 5 )

~Author Speaks~
I wasn't completely content with this chapter, but it is needed so that the next chapters have some foundation to stand on. I'm working through a few days of boredom so that I can get to the good stuff. This chapter skipped ahead another week and the next chapter will probably be similar that way, skipping at least a few days.
~Ok…Done…Yay!~

Three Days Grace
"Scared"

At night I hear it creeping
At night I feel it move
I'll never sleep here anymore

I wish you never told me
I wish I never knew
I wake up screaming
It's all because of you

So real these voices in my head
When it comes back you won't be
Scared and lonely
You won't be scared, you won't be
You won't be scared and lonely
You won't be scared you won't be lonely

I know there's something out there
I think I hear it move
I've never felt like this before
I wish you never told me
I wish I never knew
I wake up screaming
It's all because of you

So real these voices in my head
When it comes back you won't be
Scared and lonely
You won't be scared, you won't be
You won't be scared and lonely
You won't be scared you won't be lonely

Its all because of you
I wish you never told me
I wake up screaming now
So real these voices in my head
So real these voices in my head
I wake up screaming now
I wish you never told me
I wish I never knew

Scared and lonely
You won't be scared, you won't be
You won't be scared and lonely
You won't be scared you won't be lonely

Scared and lonely
You won't be scared, you won't be
You won't be scared and lonely
You won't be scared you won't be lonely

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He remembered back during the times that he had been hospitalized. He never liked the medication that the doctors had given him. It had made him feel strange and out of control. He had refused to take it most of the time. That was probably it. He hoped that Gohan would heal soon. It would be nice to have him back to normal again.
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Warnings - Cursing, angst, angry shit.

Characters - Some new characters to further the story. They will appear again later and I think you'll enjoy that.

*So Real*

Sleep.

With sleep come dreams.

In dreams lay the truth of ourselves.

Our wants. Our desires. Our wishes. Our fears.

Sleep without dreams is only empty despair. Nothing to look to. Nothing to look back on.

Gohan had no dreams. Sleep was a long and fleeting moment where he could cease to exist. Where nothing could touch him and where he neither felt nor cared. He hated it and he yearned for it both at once.

Gohan did have nightmares. They would lay in wait in the darkness of sleep until he fell into their grasp. Then they would take hold, griping with sharp claws, sinking long nails into his mind and holding him captive.

Some of them were plain, cold, unfeeling. He looked on in the nightmare with disparaging calm until he finally came awake and then could not find sleep again. These dreams held images and visions of his family and friends, turning away from him, disavowing him, turning against him. Hateful images of those who were supposed to care for him, love him, haunted these nightmares. He knew they were false, that things like that would never come true, that they were shadowed reflections of reality. But that did not help him get to sleep after witnessing himself hurt or betrayed or killed by someone he trusted. These were not so terrible, though. They were merely disturbing, disquieting images.

But some of his nightmares were frightening, dark, terrible things full of unseen threat and horror. The worst thing about these was that they felt so real. He could feel something evil creeping up on him, reaching out to get him. It was there, just waiting for him to trip or fall or make the wrong turn in this labyrinth of fear…and then it would have him. The things he saw in these dreams would send his heart into the pit of his stomach and turn his pulse racing. Many of these visions repeated, the same exact thing happening over and over again, but every viewing was like seeing it all for the first time. Mostly, the villain in these visions was indistinct, cloaked or shadowed so that he could not see who or what it was. And there was the not so rare instance when he knew exactly what was following him. One of these wraiths was something that, no matter how he rationed it away afterwards, always turned his spine to ice when it appeared. No matter what he did, he just couldn't escape it. It always caught him. He always woke in its clutches, a scream fresh on his lips and a fresh image of one red eye and one blue eye staring at him with mindless, dead, malice. Upon waking from those nightmares, he often could still feel the cold, half-decayed fingers on his skin or wrapped around his throat. Those clawing, grasping hands were inevitable and, as soon as this ghost made himself known, all hope was lost because Gohan knew he could never get away from it.

It was these apparitions that caused the demi to flee the lure of dark oblivion and stay awake. Slowly his sleep pattern began to shift from night to day when light would burn around the edges of curtains and shades and lend its comfort. Gohan spent his nights restlessly, watching tv or merely shuffling aimlessly around his small apartment keeping busy with random chores. When the nightmares were especially bad, the little building would become spotless, glistening from every corner as he kept himself occupied rather than sleep. Then the frightening images would fade and his home degraded into sloth as he once again neglected everything in favor of drowning in dark non-existence until the pattern cycled anew.

Another week slowly groaned past bringing with it random visits of caring good wishers and concerned worriers which Gohan blearily acknowledged and sent away, wanting nothing more than to be just left alone in his tired depression. The demi soon learned that the medication he took dimmed the nightmares and took advantage of the relief it gave, dosing at night and even double dosing when he felt especially paranoid. But by early morning, the meds always wore off and he would wake in a cold sweat or lurch from his bed or chair and the icy fingers that waited there. Existence had become a very simple and gloomy prospect, but it was comfortable in its dismal sameness and Gohan was loathe to accept when life began to wedge its way back into his new pattern.

His doctor began to call, which was ok because he was running low on medication and he didn't have any bad feelings toward the hospital despite the fact he now carried its patented seal of approval in the form of a cold itch under the large unwieldy cast on his arm and shoulder.

He also began getting calls from work and school wondering when he'd be well enough to come in again. These he avoided for a while, finally answering when messages began to pile up on his answering machine. He gave them both the same lame excuse. He had a doctor appointment and wouldn't be able to answer them until afterwards.

Now, Gohan sat in the dark in his big comfy chair, staring at the door. It was early morning and he couldn't sleep again. It was also almost time for his appointment, but he didn't want to leave the comfort of his gloomy little cave. He didn't feel up to facing anyone. For anything. This antisocial behavior was a bit odd on him, but he found that it didn't feel odd. It felt nice. He'd always had trouble "socializing". He was more the sort who was dragged around by social people and really didn't know what to do or say while he was immersed in society. He had to admit that he had that much in common with his father, except that Goku wasn't shy at all. Gohan had decided that not "socializing" all together was much easier and felt good. It was worth the slight loneliness that came with it which wasn't even that bad either.

Finally, after struggling and pouting and thinking of a million reasons not to walk out that door, Gohan finally groaned and dragged himself out of the chair. He disappeared into the bathroom to try and make himself presentable for inspection, which is what the doctor would surely do.

Soon, a relatively clean Gohan wiped the steam from the mirror and looked himself over. He'd put on a little weight over the last two weeks. He wasn't quite so stickly thin and lean anymore since he'd been getting absolutely no exercise cooped up in this little building. He looked more like the other guys at college now, not fat certainly, but with at least a little meat on him. He wondered absently if the change might do anything to his "nerd" label. Probably not. His hair was beginning to grow back some. He'd needed a haircut before all this happened and now it was going on the fourth week since. His hair was beginning to creep down his neck like it did when he was a child and spike up on top like his dad's. He started to try and brush it into a semblance of order, but gave up, letting it go its own way instead. There were enough guys out there nowadays that were spiking their hair that it wouldn't look so abnormal. Why did he give a damn if he looked abnormal anyway? He'd always been so worried about things like that. He was tired of it, tired of everything. He didn't have the energy to give a fuck about stupid things like that right now so he refused to care about it. In fact while he was thinking along these lines, he decided he didn't give a shit that it would be hell trying to get a shirt on over this damn cast. Fuck it. He wasn't even going to try. They would just have to deal with him like this. He really didn't care what they thought. And just to make sure that he didn't change his mind once he was surrounded by people and they were all looking at him with those looks, just like he knew they would, he picked up his little prescription bottle and dumped out the few pills that were left. Not many at all. Only a day or two worth. He took one pill and broke it in half so that he wouldn't be too giddy at the hospital and swallowed the half, carefully putting away the rest. He gave himself one last appraising look in the mirror, absently scratching at the edge of the cast on his chest. His shoulder had begun to itch terribly. Gohan knew that meant that it was healing, but it was driving him nuts because he couldn't reach it. He adjusted his jeans which, for once, were actually snug rather than loose and baggy. Ignoring the belt that he didn't need anymore, he headed for the door. It took him a few moments to get accustomed to the blinding light outside and he asserted that he would have to get a pair of sunglasses if he was going to deal with such an ungodly thing like sunlight.

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Gohan was a picture in himself, whether he knew it or not, striding stiffly into the hospital lobby wearing an old pair of black loafers, tight faded blue jeans, and his short spikes framing a pair of black sporty sunglasses that a vendor had suggested looked "just right" on him. The last two details are what carried the look so well, which were the bare muscular chest with the massive injury…and the seemingly unintended, sour expression on Gohan's face that said "I don't wanna be here, don't talk to me, just leave me alone". He wasn't going to get his wish, though.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting and being stared at, then being poked and prodded and x-rayed, then interrogated, then left alone to wait again, finally someone deigned to talk to him and tell him what deduction had been made. He seemed to be healing surprisingly fast. At this rate he might be out of the cast well before his due time, which was supposed to be months away still. Just to be on the safe side, though, they would wait until after his next checkup before making any decisions toward that end. Then, after all that time spent waiting on the doctor, he whisked away almost before Gohan could even absorb the information he'd been given. He managed to catch the doctor before he could leave the room, though. He wanted to know about his medication refill. The doctor briskly flipped through the chart until he found the prescription.

"You should still have plenty left." He stated gruffly, his beside manner not improved much at all.

Now it was Gohan's turn to act guilty. He was always good at feeling guilty. He hated it. He knew he'd been taking much more than the prescription called for, but it said take "as needed" and he had needed it. So now he had to actually justify himself and buy the doctor's clinical sympathy to get what he'd been freely given at the beginning of all this. He hated that too.

He rubbed the cast gingerly. "It hurts, especially at night. It aches so bad that it keeps me awake half the time and now it's started to itch enough to drive me nuts and I can't get to it to make it stop. I haven't been able to sleep much at all so I've been taking the stuff to make me sleep. It really helps."

The doctor eyed him and then looked into the chart once more, making a few new scrawls with that gnarled 'doctor penmanship' they always use and somehow manage to make sense of. "What you're on now isn't a long term drug. It's only used for severe cases and you've healed marvelously well already. You don't need it anymore. I'm going to prescribe you something else that should work just as well."

And with that, he was gone leaving Gohan angry and annoyed and distressed. "Why not just stay with what already *is* working!" The demi grumbled, but the room was already empty.

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And so, Gohan ended up back home with a brand new glimmering orange pill bottle, which he glared at dubiously. He had already asserted that it had not been worth leaving the apartment that morning and he had no intention of leaving it again that day. The hospital had given him clean leave to go back to work, which he had been rather disappointed to hear even though he knew that he would have to go back eventually. He'd forgotten what it was like to not have to work, he'd been doing it since he got into college. Granted, he had a pretty cushy office job in the accounting department of the college and he had absolutely no problem with the work because he was so adept with numbers and managed to somehow avoid all the office drama that surrounded his coworkers. Always an outsider, he was, even at work. Even though he could rattle off the name and number of any given account just from memory alone and he tended to be the one that his coworkers came to whenever they needed to know something, he still just didn't fit in with all their clicks and he didn't want to. They needed him, so he'd managed to stay neutral without too many problems. The office had probably fallen apart without him there to keep things organized, but he had no wish to go back. Not right now. He didn't think that he could deal with it.

Class? This whole semester was a lost cause. He'd missed almost a month so far and he couldn't validate why it was worth trying to catch up at this point. He might as well just give up.

He shuffled to the bedroom and threw himself onto the bed, a little harder than he meant to. He growled at the sharp ache that flooded his jostled shoulder and lay there stiffly waiting for it to go away. He lay there, sprawled haphazardly, for a while and had been just about to drift off to dark sleep when the phone rang right next to his ear. Sighing, he fumbled for the receiver, not willing to open his eyes, wanting to stay in the dark. Finally finding the source of annoyance, he answered.

"What?"

"Son Gohan?" The voice on the other end sounded a bit miffed at the way he'd answered.

Gohan didn't care if she was miffed. She was one of those who got miffed at the slightest things and then bitched over them for a week. She could bitch all she wanted, he didn't care. "Yes, Sofie, it's me." He sighed tiredly.

"How are you doing, Gohan? Did you talk to the doctor?" She asked with false concern and courtesy.

The demi wished that he had just let the phone ring. "Yes, Sofie. I'll come in to work tomorrow." He almost groaned.

"Oh good! I'll get the others to put everything together and leave it on your desk. Glad you're feeling better, honey. We're all looking forward to seeing you again. We've been so worried." Gohan noted that she'd labeled him as feeling better even though he hadn't told her how he was. From the sounds of it, there was going to be a shitload of work waiting for him tomorrow.

"Ok, Sofie. Bye."

"…uh…Yeah. Bye bye, Gohan." He could just hear the miffedness in her voice and it made him almost smile. Almost.

'Well.' He cracked an eye and held up the orange bottle still in his hand. 'Might as well see if this crap works.'

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The next day, Gohan was in a foul mood. Whatever this stuff was that the doctor gave him, it didn't do shit! It did a little to help dull the ache, but the itch was still there and his body metabolized the medicine way too fast. It did nothing to numb him like the other stuff did. Nothing! Everything was crystal clear and way too real. He found he preferred the abstract to reality. He actually had to deal with shit. He actually had to care. He didn't want to care. He wanted to not give a shit. He liked not giving a shit.

He was just plain pissed off.

When he realized that he was going to have to force a shirt on, he got even more pissed.

He set to the task with a large pair of scissors and an older, button up, Hawaiian shirt that he never really liked. A gift from Videl some time ago. He'd had to keep it because it was from her. He took perverse pleasure in slicing it up so that it would settle some people's ideas of decency. Again, he didn't bother with his hair. Sunglasses in place, he ventured out into the daylight world of office hours and false lighting.

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He sat at his desk, staring at the pile of papers. He didn't want to touch it. He didn't want to hear anymore of his coworker's cheerful voices. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be home, curled up in his big, soft, recliner and *not* thinking. He didn't want to be working on, correcting, filing, or redoing all his coworkers' work. How could people so inept ever have gotten jobs working in accounts and finances?! All he saw when one of them would stick their noses into his little cubicle was absolute incompetence.

There was no helping it, though. Gohan took out his new prescription and tipped a couple pills into his hand, washing them down with a small cup of water that he had at his desk. Just then, a young girl stuck her head in to see him.

"Hi. I'm new here. I thought I'd come by and meet you. I figure, everyone is always saying such nice stuff about this Gohan, I should see for myself." She smiled prettily, her blond hair hanging in shining shoulder length curls. "My name's Lian."

Gohan, having been caught half swallowing, spluttered a tiny bit but managed to get the liquid down *before* trying to reply. He tried to remember his manners…but he just didn't have it in him. He just leaned back tiredly and gave her as much of a smile as he could, which wasn't much of one. "Oh. Hi, Lian."

She leaned in a little further, taking in the pill bottle and the huge cast and looking sympathetic. "Aw. Does it hurt very much? It looks terrible."

Gohan glanced down at the clutter on his desk and sighed. "Not as much as this." He gestured to the pile of papers and work orders.

Lian giggled appreciatively. "I know. Isn't it awful? Hey! Since I bet you're gonna have a real bitchy time filing this stuff with only one hand, how about you gimme a call when you're done and I'll help you?"

She then proceeded to write down her phone number on one of Gohan's sticky notepads. "They gave me a phone, but I can never remember the extension." She explained happily. "K? I'll see you later, Gohan." And she was on her merry way.

Strangely, her cheerful attitude didn't repel him like the rest of his coworkers. She actually seemed to be genuinely happy. It didn't serve to brighten his mood, but it helped him to actually move toward the pile. He had to deal with this sometime. Might as well get it over with.

Later that day, he was half done with the work and he was hating life. Office work was one thing. Office work with one hand for typing, rifling through papers and files and folders was something completely different. On top of that, the florescent lights hurt his eyes after so long in the dark and he had a major headache. He was seeking solace with his head cradled on his arm on his desk when a revolting voice brought him out of the dark again.

"Um…Gohan?"

"What is it, Sofie?" He grumbled.

"Gohan, there's a young man out here that…needs some assistance." She said hesitantly.

Gohan had little patience left to be polite. "What does it have to do with me, Sofie?" He asked, his voice still muffled by the thin desk.

"Well…none of us know just how to find what he wants. He doesn't seem to have filed his paperwork right."

Gohan growled and leaned up to squint at the slightly plump, older brunette. "Fine." He sighed and got up, pushing past her and out to the finance help desk.

The epitome of a college football jock stood on the other side of the finance desk. "'Bout time somebody got here! You people don't seem to know anything! Do you know anything, dude? 'Cause I'm tired of talking to people who can't get their heads out of their asses!" The jock glared at Sofie.

Gohan did not need this. He didn't need this at all. "I guess we'll just have to see." He replied, his eyes narrowing. "What do you need?"

The jock pointed rudely at Sofie. "I just told her what I need and she isn't doing anything."

The demi's stress level rose about three points. "Well that's nice, but why don't you tell me now?"

The jock rolled his eyes and shook his head. "My grant didn't go through. How the hell am I supposed to stay on the team if my fuckin grant don't go through and I get dropped because one of you idiots didn't pay the bill?"

Now it was Gohan's turn to roll his eyes and the motion made his headache even worse. "Where's your grant letter?"

"What?" The jock looked at him blankly.

"Your grant letter." He repeated. "The letter that has the name of your lender and your grant number on it. All the information that we need is on that letter."

The six foot three inch tall football player began to get frustrated. "I already gave you all that stuff! How the hell should I know where it is? I already gave you guys everything you asked for and it didn't go through."

Gohan shook his own head. "Ok. How about this. What's your social security number. Maybe I can look it up that way."

"My what? I don't know, man!"

Gohan leaned on the desk tiredly and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't keep the weary sarcasm from his voice. "You don't know your social security number." He took a deep breath. "Ok. You don't have proof of your lender, you don't know your grant number, you don't know your social…what is it that you want me to do again? Because I've got nothing so far. How about this, do you know your name?"

The jock glared angrily at him. "Rick Johnson." He said simply.

Gohan grunted, losing all expression. "Do you know how many Johnsons there are on this college's sports teams? More than they need, obviously. Why don't you go home and find your grant letter and ask your mom to write down your social for you and see if you've got a middle name mixed in there somewhere and then come back and we'll see what we can do. Otherwise, I suggest that you resign yourself to a career at Burger King because that's about all you're going to amount to at this rate, kid."

The next thing he knew, there was a fist gripped on his shirt and dragging him halfway over the desk.

"Watch your mouth, shrimp, or I'll fucking break your other arm!"

The twist of Gohan's intestines, which had been tightening all day, finally cinched up another notch and he snarled angrily. His good hand planted on the desk and his legs swung up instinctively until he crouched on the surface and looked directly into Rick's blue eyes and tanned face. His good arm then fisted in the Rick's t-shirt, mirroring him. The demi's voice was a calm growl that conveyed all the frustration he'd been under already today and a bleak resignation that said that he expected no less from Rick, but that he'd carry out his threat with much difficulty.

"I've had a very bad day today following on a week that hasn't been all that good either. In fact, I've just been in a pretty permanent pissy mood for a while now. So I suggest that you do us all a favor and fucking go home before I lose it! Because I'm pretty fucking close to kicking your ass right off the football teem and into the special Olympics for the physically impaired!"

Rick's eyes widened. He wasn't used to being stood up to. He was used to being able to throw his weight around, but the look on this little guy's face and the sound of his voice made him want to back off. That didn't happen often. He let go and pulled back and was surprised when Gohan's fingers slipped easily from his shirt. He became suddenly much more reasonable.

"Look, man. I need that grant. That's all. I gotta have it by the end of the week or my coach is gonna have my head."

Gohan stayed crouched on the desk, his eyes smoldering, but his voice held a lecturing tone. "Then go get that letter. If you have to, have them fax it to this office. Come back when you've got it and we'll see what we can do." Gohan picked up a card with the office phone and fax numbers on it from a card holder on the desk and handed it to the jock. He locked eyes with Rick momentarily. "And leave your attitude at home because I won't put up with your shit one more time. I've got enough of it to deal with already."

Rick took the card and left quickly. "Uh, yeah. See ya."

Gohan stayed where he was for a minute, just breathing. Finally he turned and slid off the desk with a sigh, all his energy leaving him after that little performance. Sofie was staring at him with wide eyes. He glared at her. "Why don't you go…see what happened to Rick Johnson's paperwork?" He almost said something very rude but managed to control himself. "I'm done for today. I'm going home." He stated roughly and turned on his heel, stalking back to his cubicle. He grabbed his little orange bottle turned to leave.

"Not a good day, huh?" There was Lian. "I heard you in the front lobby. Rick's always like that. It's cool that you can talk back to him. I wouldn't have thought you were the type."

Gohan took a deep calming breath. "I'm not the type."

She looked around the cubicle thoughtfully. "I wouldn't think you were the type for this place either, from looking at you."

Gohan gave his lopsided shrug and moved to scoot past her. "Been a rough few weeks. Excuse me, I'm leaving for the day." He paused as he was about to round the corner. "Nice to meet you, Lian."

He would have liked to think of it differently, but he knew better. Gohan fled. He fled as fast and swiftly as he could from that office and those people to the secure solitude and safety of his nice dark hole. His head throbbed and so did his shoulder. His back was tense and his stomach felt sick. All he wanted was to get back home and disappear. Make it all stop. As soon as he rattled the door open, he had it closed and his back pressed against it. Make it stop. That's all he wanted. Before he even realized it, he was in his bathroom holding the bottle with what was left of his old prescription. He popped the lid open and gazed sadly at the contents. There were four full pills and one half. He carefully tipped them out and separated the half and one whole, putting the other three back and closing the bottle. He drank down the pills and slumped into his chair, not even bothering with the tv. He just brooded.

He couldn't believe that he'd gotten so mad at that guy earlier. He'd obviously scared Sofie. She'd be talking about him for weeks. But at least he was out of there. Slowly, oh so slowly, he began to relax and the tension in his body began to fade. Soon he was dozing contentedly, half awake, his eyes cracked open just enough for the scene of the dark living room to be implanted into the dream that was forming. It wasn't a pleasant feeling that began to steal over him. No. In fact, it was an all too familiar feeling of nervous anticipation as if there were something in the dark room with him. Something that he didn't want there. Realization dawned on his sleepy mind just as a black figure shifted in the shadows at the far end of the room. He watched as an arm broke away from the darkness, lifting clawlike fingers toward him, then a foot moved slowly out of the black. 'Oh Kami, it's coming for me…' A sound echoed through the room like a breathy sigh and Gohan jerked upright with a gasp, his eyes opening wide.

There…was nothing there. The room was empty. He reached over to the wall and flicked on the light. Nothing. 'Just a dream. That's all.' Suddenly he wanted so badly to be outside where it was open and clear and cool and he could breathe fresh air. He didn't hesitate until after he was out the door and then, he didn't hesitate long, opting to just pick a direction and walk. That last nightmare had so unnerved him because it seemed like he was actually seeing it. He hadn't realized he'd dozed off. He thought it had really been *right there*.

One nice thing about getting his apartment in the middle of town was that he was within walking distance of everything. School, work, the hospital, and a quiet little tree-filled park in between them all. He went to the park, walking slowly over the thick, sun dappled grass. It was a nice, sheltered little place with a playground at one end and just trees and benches spread over the rest. Gohan walked until he found a quiet, relatively secluded spot and sat down against a tree in the lush grass. He felt much much better and even managed a contented sigh. Sitting there, he watched the random people in the park, jogging, playing, talking, watching their children play. It was very peaceful. He smiled to himself as the sun began to fall. It really wasn't so bad, was it? He just had to look at it the right way. Life had to get back to normal sometime, right? He wished that the doctor would have filled his prescription again, but it wasn't the end of the world, right? Still, Gohan wasn't sure just how he'd survive another day if this first one was already so bad.

But he was ok now. He felt good right now. That was all that mattered. Right now, he could deal with everything.

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