Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Young Man's Heart ❯ Why Even Try ( Chapter 14 )

Burned Out Dreams

I spent some time at work on the graveyard shift working on this…at about 3:30am, I realized that I was typing completely nonsensical sentences that had nothing to do with anything… *laughs* Hopefully I caught all of them in my proofreading. See how dedicated to this story I am?

Which I Can Steal

 

 

Default - Live A Lie

 

I can't seem to find out what I feel
Burned out dreams of others which I can steal
Take or leave this way I seem to you, it eats right through you
Ripped up parts of things I should do, I'll run around and tell you screaming

Oh I live a lie, oh I live a lie, oh why even try
I've been leaving thoughts below
Still I feel I should know

Still don't see much of me giving in
Much too strong to live outside of these sins
Feeling like I'm taken lightly, think you see right through me
Words of those who still despise me, think it's eating me you're dreaming

Oh I live a lie, oh I live a lie, oh why even try
I've been leaving thoughts below
Still I feel I should know

When I seem to believe all that I've done wrong
You can take all that's right I will still move on
Taken all I can give it seems that I don't belong
Push me further from this go on

Oh I live a lie, oh I live a lie, oh why even try
I've been leaving thoughts below
Still I feel I should know

 

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“Okay, fine, don't tell me.” She grinned at him lightheartedly and jabbed him with her finger. “But, mark my words. I'll find out sooner or later. So! Are you coming to work or not?”

 

He blinked at her for a few seconds, remembering again why he loved her so much. He laughed and nodded. “Alright, fine. But you have to let me up so I can get a shower.”

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Characters - Cameos by Bulma and Chichi. OC's Lian, Kris, and Tom.

 

Warnings - Drug abuse, depression, cursing, general disharmony, and just a touch of yaoi for a splash of flavor.

 

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Why Even Try

 

 

He'd been in an embarrassingly good mood earlier, but now he stared at the computer screen in bored depression, fingers clicking idly on the keyboard. He had gotten tired of feeling paranoid about what the other office staff might think every time one of them walked by his cubicle, so now his chair leaned against the far wall with his desk turned slightly askew from the corner of his little box. Now no one could see his monitor unless they actually stepped inside. There could be no accidental witnesses to the telltale blank screen that he was staring at. It wasn't that he was actually staring at the blank desktop. He really wasn't seeing it at all. He was too caught up in the melancholy reflection of his own existence.

 

He didn't have a clue how long he had been sitting here. It really was almost not even worth his time to be here. …not that his time was worth much anyway, but he was being paid to sit here. Well…to sit here and do work, yes, but he wasn't doing work and he had no intention of doing any work either. He didn't want to. He didn't feel like it. He didn't feel like anything. He couldn't concentrate enough anyway. He was here, wasn't that good enough? Even despite how fuzzy his head felt from staring at the screen for so long, he just didn't have the will to tear his gaze away from it. He'd even attempted to play solitaire, but he couldn't keep his mind on that either. He could concentrate well enough to deal with each hand as it was dealt, but he couldn't remember any of the cards or the games once they were done and he kept skipping cards that could have been placed. He hadn't won a single hand.

 

His mind kept going back to the previous night and the following morning. He didn't know what to think anymore, now that time had gone by and normal life had resumed. He could still remember the feeling of Kris' lips on his. He could still remember the taste of him. He tasted like smoke and the bitter tang of alcohol with just a hint of that sweet citrusy sauce from dinner, and there was something else that Gohan was sure was just Kris. At the time, he'd decided that he didn't care what anyone would think, but now he found himself worrying the subject incessantly. What would anyone think? What would they say? He couldn't ever admit what happened to anyone. Never ever. Kami, just imagine what that would cause!

 

It was 5 o'clock already when Lian hooked her arm in his, causing him to jump with a gasp before he realized who it was that was pulling him out of his cubicle. Little good it did to put his back to the wall. He hadn't even noticed her come into his cubicle. He hadn't noticed the day go by either. Pulling up short at the water cooler, he reached into his jacket and brought out one of his pills. He had begun keeping a few loose in his pocket just so that he didn't have to dig into the loudly rattling bottle. He filled a cup and washed the pill down his throat before once again plodding slowly after Lian and out the door.

 

Why didn't he feel better? Why did he have to feel like this all the time now? Nothing he did ever seemed to make a difference. All the time now. The guilt. He felt so guilty! About so many things! Things that shouldn't even matter, but they did, just one more thing on top of dozens of other things which compounded his uncertainty and frustration and made everything seem so much more important that any of it really was. Why did he have to care what everybody thought? He wished he could just stop. He didn't want to care about anyone else's feelings or expectations or wants. He just wanted to stop, but that would cause so many more problems it just wasn't worth it to even think about that. The only thing that made the days tolerable was the medication. The pills caused the anxiety that had become so prevalent in his body to ease. The pills made the tension lessen, that horrible tension that twisted into his muscles and caused his shoulder and half his frame to ache so sharply. They made that nasty crawling feeling fade. He hadn't had so many nightmares since he'd taken it…and since Lian was around so much…since he'd been sleeping around other people. Not that he'd been sleeping much even then really…it was more passing out than sleeping.

 

~

~

 

“Why do you look at me like that?” Lian asked suddenly, laying on the floor with him, her head pillowed on the curve of her arm. Her eyes were so calm and clear and blue. Looking into them was like looking through perfect glass windows at the sky.

 

He hadn't realized he was looking at her. He'd just been staring absently into space for who knew how long, just wallowing in this dull melancholy. He just…was. “Like what?”

 

Her voice was so soft, floating across the inches of space between them. “Like that. Like you're dreaming. Like you're going to wake up any second and you don't want to.” How long had they been laying like this on the thickly carpeted living room floor of his small apartment? He didn't know. He didn't care.

 

“'Cause I don't want to wake up.” He replied in an equally airy voice, blinking slowly, a tired, worn smile curving at his lips.

 

She made a soft noise and shook her head at him with that calm smile of hers. “You shouldn't worry so much. It isn't as hard as you think it is. You should make it easy.”

 

“What?” His brow wrinkled in confusion.

 

“Make it as easy as you want it to be. You make it so hard, Angel. It doesn't have to be so hard.”

 

He just shook his head wistfully. “……no, it's been good… Since I met you, it's been better.” He smiled sadly. “I wish I didn't care. Everything would be so much easier if I could just not care. But…” He shifted and sprawled on his back, enjoying the disorienting feeling of weightlessness that rolled through his body with the sudden movement. “It doesn't matter. This is all I want. Just right now, right here. …I can deal with this.”

 

~

~

 

 

He didn't even think about it when there came a knock at his door. He just stumbled up automatically, padded numbly over, and threw the portal open to an awakening of very real regret. There, standing on his doorstep, were his mother and Bulma. His stomach sank like a water balloon filled with hot bile and his shoulders tensed painfully.

“Um…hi…” He didn't smile, instead he looked between the two women with something akin to wary dread.

 

Bulma smiled, but the way she was looking at him put Gohan on edge instantly. Why was she looking at him like that? Chichi smiled brightly and stepped in with a cry of motherly love, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight.

“Oh, Gohan! You haven't come to see me so long! I've missed you! How could you do this to your own mother? I've called and called but you never answered any of my messages. Are you alright, Gohan?!”

 

He found himself ensnared in her tight grip and could do little but give a lopsided, helpless shrug as she fawned over him, hands patting his cheeks and rubbing his arms and shoulders. When he winced, Chichi yanked her hands back with a gasp and became much gentler, patting his chest and looking at his shoulder worriedly as if she could see right through his shirt to the wound that lay beneath. He took his mother's hands and held them away from himself. It felt odd having her do that. It was a contradiction that stood out prominently in his mind. He was just growing used to random people touching him and suddenly here was his mother touching him like it was a normal thing. It made him extremely uncomfortable.

 

“I'm fine, mom. I've just…not been feeling all that well. You know… I've been mostly working and sleeping…sorry.” He answered lamely, taking a step back to gain a little room.

 

Of course, his mother took the movement as an invitation and stepped into the apartment past him. “Gohan! This place is a mess!”

 

She was starting to fuss already. That was the last thing that Gohan wanted to deal with. He'd been okay before he'd opened the door. He grimaced and wondered what had gotten into him to make him answer. Bulma stepped in after Chichi, looking around with a shrewd eye at the small apartment before turning to Gohan.

 

“Gohan, we need to talk. I want to know what happened.” Bulma said it straight out without any preamble or preoccupation. He'd been hoping that she wouldn't have the nerve to broach the subject. But face it, Bulma had always had bigger balls than most anyone else.

 

He fidgeted, his expression closing instantly as he looked back at her. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to think about it, any of it. He just wanted her to go away. Before he could figure out what to say, though, Chichi spoke up drawing his attention to her.

 

“Have you been eating well? You look so pale. Have you been sick? Did the doctor send you home too early, baby? I knew they couldn't be trusted to take care of you. Those smug snarky know it all doctors! Are you alright, sweety?”

 

He distinctly remembered his mother bitching about how she didn't want him to stay at the hospital and now she was suggesting they hadn't kept him long enough. He'd been out of the hospital for two months now, what difference did it make?! And wasn't there a time when she used to hound him about the possibility of going to medical school to become one of those smug snarky know it all doctors?! Jeez, she was so…so…He closed up at the prodding, tensing under their intent eyes, looking down at the ground and away, anywhere but at the two interfering women. “I'm fine, mom. And I don't want to talk about it.” He finally grated out.

 

Chichi looked shocked by the tone of his voice, but Bulma just narrowed her eyes and shifted her weight to the other hip as she eyed him calculatingly. It was so unnerving when she did that. His mother spoke first. “Gohan! What is it that you can't talk to your own mother about it?”

 

He finally looked up with a grimace firmly in place. “I just said I don't want to. What part of that is so difficult to understand?” He snapped waspishly.

 

Bulma's matter-of-fact, sturdy voice piped up again. “I already know, Gohan. I talked to the coroner.”

 

His gaze snapped to her, eyes widening for an instant before narrowing again. She'd said that as if it were a threat, as if to say `I already know, I just want to hear you say it to see if you're going to lie to me, so you better tell the truth.' Well he had nothing to say to her. He didn't have to answer to Bulma. What did she know? Nothing. She didn't know anything and it could stay that way. It was that little voice in the back of his mind that assured him of this. He didn't need to answer to her. Why should he? He shrugged noncommittally, and looked back down at the ground. “Then you don't really need to ask me, do you? So there you go. Case solved. Whatever.” His guts tingled. Since when had he ever had the guts to mouth off to anyone, much less in front of these two? There was the answer. He didn't. That's why his guts were squirming, because he'd done as close to mouthing off just now as he was capable. “Is that all you wanted?”

 

Bulma made an annoyed face and drew up to her full less-than-impressive height and he was sure she was going to give him the dressing down he so obviously deserved. He couldn't help but flinch, looking away again. “I want to know how you knew that guy, Gohan. And what in the world were you doing at that place?”

 

Chichi blinked and looked between the two of them uncertainly. Obviously Bulma hadn't prepped her on the topic beforehand. His mother didn't seem to know what was up Bulma's ass on this visit. He shifted his feet nervously under both their gazes. “Nothing. I just walked him there after that whole…incident…thing.” He finally said, but the blue haired billionaire didn't seem to buy it. Well, of course she didn't buy it! It was a lie. It was a flat out, straight spoken lie of the first caliber and Gohan was absolutely no good at lying. Sidestepping, he could do. Misdirection, he'd become a pro at. Telling people what they wanted to hear? He could do that in his sleep. But lying? He didn't have a prayer of her believing him and he knew it.

 

“Gohan! Why were you at that old house?!” Bulma demanded again, her stern voice taking over the room. “What the hell were you thinking? Do you know what goes on in places like that?”

 

That stalled him. She knew. She knew. He stared at her, feeling like a deer about to be mowed down by a car. With monumental effort, he attempted to save the direction this was going…though it was admittedly a poor attempt. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

 

Bulma just snorted and shook her head in disbelief. “Gohan, don't play games. You've been weird ever since that skirmish at the pharmaceutical company. The whole thing at the hospital… You haven't spoken to your family or Videl in weeks. You barely even deigned to leave this musty little apartment to come to Capsule Corp the last time. You can't withdraw into your own little world just because of one little mishap. It happens, Gohan! You need to deal with it.”

 

Gohan's shoulders hunched as she went on and on. Since that “skirmish?” It wasn't a skirmish, it was a catastrophe and it was completely and utterly his fault that it happened. One “little mishap?” Hell no, it wasn't one little mishap! It was just one more mess piled on top of the huge debacle that was his entire life! Just another failure to compare with all the previous ones he'd made whenever it counted most! “I'm not playing anything.” He muttered quietly, feeling like a ten year old all over again. Why couldn't they all just leave him alone? That's all he wanted. “I just don't want to talk about it, okay?”

 

Unexpectedly, his mother spoke up in his defense. His miserable expression was enough to move her at least. She grasped his good arm protectively and gave it a motherly squeeze. “Bulma, stop it. Can't you see you're just upsetting him? Whatever this is about can wait. It's okay, honey. Don't you worry about it. You can take as long as you need to get back into the swing of things, mommy's here for you.” He didn't know what was worse. Bulma and her knowingly accusatory gaze…or his mother's help as she briskly brushed away Bulma's tirade and simultaneously relegated him from ten to five year old status. He wasn't sure whether the one thing was worth the other.

 

Bulma made a frustrated sound. “Chichi! Don't you see what's going on? Gohan's been having disassociative avoidance issues. I knew something was up last time I saw Gohan and, after what Videl told me, I looked into it. It's a common symptom of people who have had to deal with stressful or debilitating injuries. He obviously needs help dealing with it. He doesn't need you babying him and telling him it's okay. It isn't okay.”

 

Bulma turned on him with that overly serious expression that made him so uncomfortable plastered all over her face. “Gohan, I know someone who's good with these sorts of things. His name is Dr. Gavin. I already spoke to him and he's agreed to see you on Wednesday. Your family doesn't have to worry about anything, I'm going to take care of it all and you can talk to him without worrying about what he might think. He's a professional.”

 

It took a few moments for the real meaning of what she said to sink in. He looked between Bulma and his equally surprised mother and back again as he tried to find his voice. Finally the incredulousness of the situation broke through his paralysis. “You want me to see a shrink?!”

 

He paused again, still not believing that Bulma would have the audacity to come into his own home and say something like this. “I don't need a damn shrink! I'm not crazy…” Again he paused, trying to find something else to say to this because…because, Kami, he just might be crazy. There had so many times lately when he thought he might be going crazy, but, damn it, he wasn't crazy and she had no right to tell him he was crazy and she didn't know what the hell was going on and it wasn't any of her Kami-damned business either!! He felt…felt…shit…violated seemed like such a pansy-ass description, but it fit him well enough, didn't it? He shrugged his mother off his arm and backed away from both of them. “What is wrong with you?! Just because I want to be left alone for a while I'm suddenly crazy?! No! I'm not talking to some shrink just because you think I'm spending too much time at home! How do you know what I do with my spare time? What makes you so right about everything? Just because you decide you are??! ……Fuck!!”

 

The bad word came out so unexpectedly that he went silent again. His hands were shaking so much that he clenched them into fists, heedless of how that probably looked. He just wanted to make them stop shaking. How could she stand there in his doorway and tell him he needed to see a shrink? How could his mom just stand there slack jawed and let her do that? He didn't need psychiatric help! He just needed to be left alone!
`Just leave me alone!!'

 

Chichi's voice finally broke the silence, but it wasn't to help back him up against Bulma's suggestion. Instead, she pointed across the room looking sheepish, a bright blush rising on her cheeks because she had just realized that they weren't alone. “Gohan, who is that?” She gestured at Lian who was now leaning up from the floor and watching them curiously. “You never said you had company…”

 

Bulma put off her interrogation to join Chichi in examining this new detail which they had somehow missed during their first cursory inspection of the apartment. Possibly because the idea that Gohan might have company or especially girl company was just ludicrous. His expression darkened even more as that sarcastic thought fluttered through his mind. Both older women took in, with curious doubtfulness, the rumpled mess of blankets laid out before the tv in lieu of a couch and the pretty, young blond that occupied them. Lian smiled brightly and waved at them, still laying on the ground, propped up on her elbows to witness the embarrassing little visit.

 

Gohan new instantly what both ladies were thinking. Why was he camping out in his living room with this strange girl and did Videl know about this? Why was it never easy? Why did everything have to be so fucking complicated and why the hell couldn't it leave him alone? `Go complicate someone else, damn it! Don't I deserve a break?! Haven't I suffered enough?!' He wilted and sighed, his momentary defiance melting away to be replaced by depressed acceptance. “That's Lian. She works with me at the office.”

 

“Oh. Is she a friend of Videl's too?” Bulma asked sweetly, but he could hear the sharpness in her tone. It made his hackles prickle and he barely managed to restrain a glare. So he wasn't allowed to have any female friends aside from Videl then, huh? Was it a fucking crime that he talked to someone other than Videl?! Who the fuck were they to tell him that he couldn't be friends with anyone but Videl? Or was he being petty and selfish by thinking that he should have that right?

 

“No. She's not.” He stated flatly. “I don't like any of Videl's friends. So…if you don't mind, we were watching a movie. Maybe you can drop by some other time.” He tried to paste his usual old smile onto his face, but it just wouldn't settle into place like it always used to. He turned away, waving dismissively at the entire conversation and hoping they would take the hint and go away now.

 

“…Gohan…”

 

It was his mother again, speaking haltingly. Fuck, wouldn't they stop?! He rounded on her impatiently. “What?!”

 

She actually jumped, looking at him with wide eyed disbelief. Was he really acting so strangely? Tsk. Was it just because he wasn't going to be pushed around? Well, he wasn't! Not today. He'd been okay earlier, why did they have to show up and ruin it?

“Gohan…is this why Videl has been so upset lately?” Chichi actually sounded betrayed. She had the nerve to sound betrayed when it had nothing to do with her. It wasn't any of her business. “I know that you've been having a tough time…” The statement hung in the air, pregnant with the understanding that he'd chosen to have a tough time. If he'd just listened to them, listened to mommy and taken that sensu, none of this would be happening now. Things could have gone right back to normal. It didn't have to be this way. “…it's been tough on both of you. Are you sure you want to do things this way, sweetheart?”

 

Gohan pressed his hands to his face in frustration and made an angrily incoherent sound, turning away from them and throwing his hands up in the air. “Do what things?! What am I doing?! I'm sitting in my damn apartment and watching a fucking movie! Am I not allowed to do that in my own place?! Shit, mom! What the hell am I, five?! Do you really think a five year old would be fucking around with a girl in the living room? Because I'm not! And even if I was…!!”

He almost let something slip there. He almost said something he would have really regretted. He almost blurted out…well he really didn't know what it would have been, exactly, but it probably would have been something along the lines of `It wouldn't be with a girl anyway!' and that was the last thing he needed now because he wasn't even sure about that himself and that would make them even more intent on making him see a shrink. His jaw clacked shut on the words and he took a quick, almost panicked breath while he got his tongue under control again.

“…it wouldn't be any of your business anyway!”

 

Both older women were staring at him like he was some stranger. Well good! It's not like they ever knew him anyway! It's about time someone realized it! Chichi was so shocked that she just stood there, hands at her mouth and tears sparkling in her wide eyes. Bulma wasn't so speechless. “Gohan! What the heck is wrong with you? Listen to yourself!”

 

“No, you listen!” He yelled. “I'm fine! I don't need anyone checking up on me! I don't want any checking on! Just leave me alone, okay?!” He didn't want this. Things had been fine before they had to pop up on his doorstep. A wave of nervous tension was trying to strangle his lungs and his hands were shaking and his mom was crying and he really really shouldn't have said any of that. He couldn't even imagine what he sounded like. He'd never argued before, he'd never even cussed in his mother's presence before. He rarely cussed at all...before all this. Why couldn't they just leave well enough alone? Then nobody would get hurt and everything would be okay and they could all just leave each other alone.

 

He was so absorbed in his upset that he didn't see it coming. He only felt the slap once it landed and it surprised him so much that he stumbled backwards and almost fell onto his ass. He caught himself, though, one hand touching his reddened cheek while wide shocked eyes stared at Bulma's irritated face. The blue haired woman eyed him sternly for a moment, waiting to make sure he wasn't about to slip right back into his angry, near hyperventilating state again. Then she crossed her arms under her breasts in a no-nonsense stance.

 

“Gohan. The appointment is on Wednesday at five thirty at the research wing of the hospital, room 302. All you have to do is talk. Nothing else. It's just one visit. Then you can decide if you want to continue them.”

 

He stared at her and she stared right back until he couldn't meet her eyes anymore and his gaze fell to the floor. Finally, he nodded like a little boy who knew he'd done wrong and was now going to suck it up and take his medicine. “…okay…” The word tasted like ashes in his mouth, but what could he do? It's not like he had a choice. He never had a choice. They'd find a way to make him no matter what. He might as well just cooperate. He was so worthless. He couldn't even stand up to Bulma. He felt so defeated. And…and…maybe he really did need it…but…but…No! He didn't want to! He didn't want to go and he didn't need to! …but he'd agreed now…he had to go now…

 

“Thank you, Gohan.” Bulma smiled at him and he hated that smile. She knew she'd won. She'd gotten exactly what she wanted. She always did. Really, you couldn't expect anything less from the owner and CEO of Capsule Corp. It was her job to get things done how she wanted, when she wanted, where she wanted. She was good at it. Once again, just like any of the hundred times he'd wished it already, he wished he'd never answered Videl. He wished he hadn't let her make him show up at the Lewis building. He wished he hadn't had anything to do with any of it that day, because then Bulma wouldn't have seen him and wouldn't be butting into things now. …and maybe Gary wouldn't be dead…or maybe he wouldn't have been the one to see him go…and find him gone…at least it wouldn't have been him…

 

“Oh, Gohan…maybe Bulma's right. You have been acting a little bit different lately... It couldn't hurt. Maybe it'll be good for you to talk about it…if it is because of all the stress. And you know you can always talk to me.”

 

Chichi came up and wrapped her arms around him in a motherly hug that he knew was meant to be comforting. Slowly he forced his arms to lift up and return the gesture, just like expected. He felt so empty all of a sudden. He didn't want to talk. He was an empty shell and he could feel himself cracking all over. Would he look just like his bathroom mirror when he shattered? Exploding in a pretty red flash of glitter? Would someone step on a shard of him and pick him out of their foot and watch their own blood slide along their skin? Sharing his pain. His existence. Would they think it was beautiful? ……maybe he was crazy. If he talked about all the things that went through his head, they really would think he was crazy.

 

“…can we please talk about this later?” He finally asked. Meekly, giving in, letting go, allowing the shackles to snap closed around him all over again. He glanced guiltily in Lian's direction. She'd already seen the whole thing. It wasn't like any of it could be salvaged. But maybe he could save himself from further humiliation.

 

Bulma nodded and touched Chichi's shoulder, motioning for her to leave too. Chichi squeezed him tight and kissed his cheek before regretfully heading off with the blue haired bitch who looked so very pleased with how everything had gone. “It'll be okay, sweety,” she assured her little boy. “I'll call you later, maybe you can come home for dinner.” She even waved uncertainly at Lian. “…um…Goodbye.”

 

When the door clicked closed, he continued to stand there motionless, just staring at the floor. He finally looked up and found Lian watching him with a clear, encouraging smile that did not hold an ounce of condemnation. He didn't understand it. He was so embarrassed. His mother had treated him like a little child and Bulma…who could be construed as some sort of aunt figure or something…since she'd been around so long…had just set him up with a psychiatrist…and Lian had seen it all and still somehow she hadn't gotten clued into to the fact that he was a giant freak. Even after he'd just rolled over for them.

 

“I…” His voice sounded so very dry. “…sorry about all that. Um…I…” He looked away again and then snatched up his jacket, fingers tripping over themselves as he struggled to find a pocket. “I'm sorry…” He finally found the right one and two pills fell out into his hand.

 

Lian just shrugged, that smile still ready on her lips. “No worries, Angel. Really.”

 

He grabbed a cup that was sitting on a tv tray and popped the pills onto his tongue, washing them down with a mouthful of warm flat soda. He groaned and stared at the ground for another few seconds before glancing self-consciously at Lian once more. “…I…I… I need to get some air…sorry…” Without another word, he walked out, slamming the door behind him so hard that the window next to it rattled.

 

 

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He'd run away, yet again. It seemed he was getting good at running away from things. He'd had so much practice. But he never ran far and now he was sitting, miserable, on a set of stairs on the other side of the apartment complex, safely out of view of mostly everyone with his head in his hands, contemplating all the stupid things he'd said to his mom and Bulma. How could he have lost it like that? It would only make them hound him more if they knew something was wrong with him. He really was just a confused loser, wasn't he? And now they wanted him to see a shrink…after he'd gone all defensive, his mom even agreed to it.

 

The sound of thudding footsteps on concrete wasn't enough to bring him out of his depressed reverie, but a familiar voice did make it through his upset. “Hi there…what's up?”

 

He straightened quickly and wiped at his face as if he could pretend he hadn't been all huddled and miserable a second before. A darkly concerned raccoon mask and glinting chain met him when he finally looked up. “Hey, Tom.”

 

Tom shifted the heavy paper grocery bag he held in his arms. Instead of all black, today the Goth had thrown a splash of color into the mix with lime green fishnet spidering over his arms from beneath a black metalband shirt. “Hey, yourself. You okay, Angelman?”

 

Gohan shrugged and waved at him distractedly. “'M fine. Just getting some fresh air.”

 

Tom just nodded acceptingly, his head bobbing longer than necessary as he looked Gohan over. Finally he raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Hey, if you're still lookin for more air, Kris an' I were gonna have, like, a night out. We can always use more company to stir things up. Ya think?”

 

Gohan looked away and shrugged again, absently rubbing at his shoulder, massaging his thumb into the flesh a little harder than necessary. His brow furrowed as he imagined that under the tight, knotted, tender muscles he could feel cold alien metal. “I'm really not the “stir things up” type.”

 

Tom grinned then. “Heh, that's okay, that's my job anyway. I wouldn't want ya stepping on my toes now. But really, man, if you need to step out, you're welcome with us. We like having you around.”

 

Gohan just sighed and let his head hang rather than answering. Tom nodded again as if he completely understood what he couldn't possibly know. He took a few steps closer and spoke again. “Come on, Angel.”

 

He started up the stairs and bumped Gohan gently with his knee. “Come on. Get up.” He took a few more steps up and paused again, looking down at Gohan insistently even though he made no move other than to call him again before heading on up the rest of the stairs. “Come on.”

With a last sigh, Gohan obediently complied with the verbal prodding. He climbed to his feet with a tired groan and followed after the Goth, shoes thumping heavily on the steps.

 

Tom ushered him into the darkened apartment, the cloying smell of smoke thick in the living room where Kris lay sprawled on the couch with one of his cigarettes glowing between his fingers. A heavy beat hung loud in the warm room as dark metal rumbled out of a sound system against the wall. It was a fervent, passionate sound that could have been described as intoxicating. Or maybe Gohan was already intoxicated and it only seemed that way. Whatever the truth was, Gohan was surprised that the metal music wasn't grating and screeching and uncomfortable like the few random bits he'd accidentally heard in casual moments throughout his life while interacting with the world. This music was mellow and rich and smooth and very very dark. It sounded almost operatic.
“Hey, man, look who came back to visit.”

 

Kris looked up and the bright smile that lit up his face managed to touch Gohan even through his morose state. The other young man really did look happy to see him. Gohan moved numbly through the room and sank down onto the couch, Kris moving quickly to make space. “Hey, Angel.” He paused, looking Gohan over. Gohan glanced up at him blandly. Was it that obvious? Judging from Kris' next question, it must be. “You okay?”

 

Gohan didn't answer right away, stalling as he relaxed into the cushions and glanced around the dim, warm room. It felt…cozy here. With the darkened atmosphere and Kris' scent heavy over the couch along with the thick smoke and the haunting melody that rumbled through the room. It was…tranquil. Honestly, that was never the image he used to have of Goths before he met these two. He rather liked this. “…no. Not really.”

 

“Hm.” Kris smiled sympathetically and held out his cigarette for Gohan who shook his head. He'd already told them he didn't smoke. That was…how many days ago? Was it Friday already? Huh. It just occurred to him that Lian hadn't mentioned anything about Hope tonight. He suddenly felt bad for ditching her back at his apartment, but there wasn't much to do about it. She was probably gone by now. Kris patted his knee and offered again.
“Come on, Angel. It's not like it'll give you cancer. It'll help you relax. It helps me.”

 

Gohan sighed and finally took the tightly wrapped stick, holding it awkwardly while he tried to figure out what to do with it. “This is the good stuff. Grade A government stock.” Kris grinned.

 

Gohan frowned, not understanding that. “Government? Isn't it all like that?” He asked dumbly.

 

Kris just stared at him in confusion for a second and then laughed. “No, it's not. Don't tell me you've never tried weed.”

 

Gohan blinked as the realization dawned on him and he blushed. “Oh… Okay, I won't.” He looked again at the cigarette. It looked really professionally made…government? Further understanding came slowly. “…Oooooh… You mean it's medical, don't you?”

 

Kris grinned. “Yup. Perfectly legal. Well…mostly.”

 

Gohan continued to eye the cigarette for another moment and then finally brought it to his lips. He'd barely gotten any smoke in before he was hacking it back out. The Goth patted him on the back and chuckled. “Hey, just take baby puffs at first till you can keep it down. When you can keep it down, then you just take a drag and hold it.”

 

Gohan's eyes were watering, but he tried again. It wasn't long before his head was swimming too. “…wow.”

 

A raccoon mask appeared in front of him and Gohan blinked to bring it into focus. Tom held up a red…blouse? Gohan looked at him skeptically. Was he suggesting…?

 

“What do you think? I think it would go nicely with your creamy complexion.” He put an almost unsanitary emphasis on the word creamy.

 

Gohan just stared at him, his tongue beginning to feel very slow and heavy. “What? On me??”

 

Kris just looked at Tom in surprise for a moment. “He's coming with us?” Tom grinned and nodded, nose chain flashing above his brilliant white teeth. Kris glanced at Gohan and his smile broadened. “Huh…I think maybe the green one would be better?”

Tom tsked and rolled his eyes but continued grinning.

“Oh fine, ruin my fun. Green one it is.”

 

It took a little extra concentration to get his limbs under control as the two Goths ushered him into the bedroom and flung open the closet doors to an array of…black…with a dash of color here and there among the clothing. He wavered and Kris slid an arm around his waist, leaning up against him and keeping him steady seemingly by accident. He didn't mind at all. Especially when he looked over at the other man and saw that smile. The idea of these two dressing him up like their sister's doll was very intimidating, but that smile made him warm inside. …Sure…he could try this…just once. Why not? Maybe it would be…fun.

 

~

~

 

 

Tom tried excruciatingly hard to get him to wear a fishnet shirt that he swore would “stretch over those sexy muscles and make everyone nuts.” Gohan adamantly refused, using the excuse that he didn't want that kind of attention. He didn't want any attention, true, but more honestly, the shirt would have done nothing to hide his scarred shoulder and that was his first and foremost preoccupation. He didn't want people looking at him and he really didn't want them looking at that. Kris, on the other hand, came up with a green shirt, just like he'd suggested. Gohan took it gratefully and pulled it on in the hopes that it would end Tom's pleading.

 

He looked at himself dubiously in the mirror. The shirt was some sort of soft, almost fuzzy material sort of like velvet, but not as temperamental. It fit like a tight t-shirt, molding over his chest and stomach. The green material ended at his shoulders where long, tight black sleeves stretched all the way down and half way over his hands. Kris reached over, taking Gohan's hands in his and sliding the material around until he could maneuver Gohan's thumbs through slits in the cuffs. “There, perfect.”

 

Gohan laughed, slightly embarrassed, and looked over the rest of the clothing he now wore. Very baggy black denim jeans with silver loops and studs all through them hung low on his hips, leaving a pale gap where the shirt ended. It turned out that he seemed to have lost some weight again over the past few weeks. He hadn't expected anything the skinny Goths had would fit him. When Tom had found that he wore the same shoe size, he had strapped a pair of black Dockers onto Gohan's feet to go with the jeans. Gohan glanced at Kris and Tom uncertainly. “Are you sure about this?”

 

Tom just laughed. “Absolutely, man. You're gorgeous! It just needs a few last touches…” And suddenly Tom was wielding an eyeliner pencil and coming at him dangerously. Kris saved him, though. He caught Tom's wrist and wrenched the pencil out of his hand.

“No you don't. You go too nuts with this stuff.” He drew Gohan over to the bed, ignoring Tom's pout and sat down. Gohan sort of stumbled after him and bounced heavily onto the mattress. It looked like those pills he'd taken were starting to work. Maybe he shouldn't have taken two of them. He'd already taken one not long before all that crap happened and, like Lian said, they really were strong.

 

He didn't even try to argue about the makeup. He'd decided to play along and he was going to. He was kind of curious now anyway…about what it would be like. Would it change anything? Did you become a different person when you went through all this stuff? The clothes make the man, right? So what did this make him right now? He wanted to find out. He wondered if he would be disappointed. So he sat still while Kris cupped his cheek and told him to close his eyes, the cold soft tip of the pencil sliding over his skin. It was a strange feeling. A slightly tickling, slightly stinging, almost a wet sensation that made his eyelids feel heavy. Then Kris told him to open his eyes and look up at the ceiling. He did and again the feeling came while the black tip slid along the line of his lower lashes. He couldn't help blinking, imagining what would happen if the other man slipped…just an inch, but Kris didn't say anything about the movements and he didn't slip and then it was over.

 

It took him a second to realize it was done and he brought his eyes down to look at Kris. The man was studying him…or was he studying his handiwork? Whichever it was, Kris smiled at him, a quiet, calm, accomplished smile. “Your eyes are really pretty. They're so black and this just makes them darker…like they'll draw you right into them…”

 

Gohan felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he blushed. He didn't know what to say to that, so he just looked away and didn't say anything, looking for the mirror. When he found it, he almost didn't recognize himself. It wasn't like the black outline around his eyes made a huge difference, but it was so unexpected that for a second he couldn't believe it was him…it did make him look different. Suddenly Kris appeared in the reflection, looping an inch thick leather strap around Gohan's neck. Unlike the studded collars the two young men wore, this one was just plain black leather with one single chrome loop hanging down from the middle which fluttered coolly against the hollow of his throat when he turned his head. It felt strange but…
“Looks good on you.”
Gohan smiled. But it looked good on him.

 

Kris leaned in and Gohan's breath caught as Kris' nose brushed intimately against his cheek. Then lips brushed his in a light kiss that tentatively turned firmer when he did nothing to dissuade it. Gohan sighed through his nose, hesitantly returning the kiss, his eyes flickering to the mirror curiously. Was that really him? Was that person in the mirror…that young man…being kissed by a skinny Goth…could that really be him? It didn't feel like him… But he didn't really like what being him felt like. So…why not? It felt good to be that person in the mirror…why couldn't it be him?

 

When Kris finally relinquished his lips, he felt dizzy and his knees were weak and his stomach was fluttering and he was sure that the only things keeping him steady on his feet were Kris' arms around him. Kris rubbed noses with him and he shivered, looking down at the other's chest with an awkwardly self-conscious blush. He could feel the Goth's eyes on him. He could imagine the expression on Kris' face. And…whatever else was going on in his life…after everything else he'd dealt with and was dealing with… It was probably such a foolish thought, but…having someone look at him like this felt so very good. As long as someone was looking at him like this, he felt like he could ignore everything else.

 

“So…uh…where are we going?”

 

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