Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Young Man's Heart ❯ All Self Inflicted ( Chapter 17 )

I Feel The Emptiness

Believe it or not, I've been working on this chapter for ages and ages. Hopefully it's not a crappy one. It has been a long time and I've had a heck of a time getting into the feel of it. Thanks to those who have left me reviews recently. Each time I saw one show up, that was another kick in the backside to try and write a few more paragraphs. I was very stuck on the plot. Hopefully it will come more smoothly now.

Of Just Another Day In Hell

Smile Empty Soul - Self Inflicted

You see these cuts and bruises
Isn't this all so amusing
I feel the emptiness of just another day in hell

My life is so confusing
Do this to myself I'm losing
I guess I'm only proving what every one can see but me

And I wont let myself be happy
I cut myself just to feel the pain
And I wont give up anything for you
I'm going down and no one can save me

I am cold my legs are shaking
There's no hope right now I'm begging
Just one sign to show me someone out there really cares
My clothes are soaked up crying
There's no doubt I know I'm dying
I did this to myself and that's the part I cant believe

And I wont let myself be happy
I cut myself just to feel the pain
And I wont give up anything for you
I'm going down and no one can save me

These cuts and bruises are all self inflicted

And I wont let myself be happy
I cut myself just to feel the pain
And I wont give up anything for you
I'm going down and no one can save me

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gohan pushed back, completely reassured that at least his brother was on his side if no one else was. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” The brothers parted ways then, Goten to freedom and Gohan back to the house to finish his mandatory visit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Characters: Chichi, Goku, Goten, more OC's.

Warnings: Drug and alcohol abuse, language, yaoi, slight non-con/rape, dark depressiveness.

 

All Self Inflicted

 

He walked back into the kitchen to find Chichi sitting at the table and staring somberly down into the oily liquid in her tea cup. When she heard him enter, she looked up and gave him a motherly smile that was so incredibly strained that it stopped him in his tracks. Suddenly he was very afraid that maybe she hadn't been as oblivious as he had thought she was during the little argument he and Goten had just had.

 

She suddenly asked. “You would tell me if something were wrong, wouldn't you, sweetheart?” The almost pleading tone of the question rubbed him raw and he had to concentrate just to keep his expression neutral. Now he wished he were anywhere but here, maybe he should have stayed outside, he had a horrible feeling about where this was going to go. “Why would there be anything wrong, mom?”

 

She grimaced, lips tightening noticeably. “I don't know, Gohan, but…but there's something going on. A mother knows and I know that there's something going on! Won't you tell me what's wrong?”

 

Gohan took a few seconds to steel himself. He could do this, he reasoned to himself. He knew the motions. They were there on the edge of his mind. Like dance steps, like a game he had spent his whole childhood manufacturing, like counting cracks in the sidewalk. The motions came to him easily, like muscle memory they took over and he shook his head. “Come on, mom, I don't know what you're talking about. Really…” He sighed, his nervousness fading as his guilty consciousness drifted away to watch from outside himself. Himself…his bland and unimaginative self… He was a shell that consisted of nothing except a disconnected emptiness as he looked out from what seemed to be an ever expanding chasm. He suddenly felt so very far away. “I don't know what you think is so weird.” It was not an unpleasant sensation, just strange, as if he were looking at his mother from the far end of a very long and dark tunnel.

 

He could see the helpless and uncertain expression on her face and, for once, it failed to move him. He couldn't feel it. That in itself was exhilarating. That in itself made him feel so very…free. A hollow smile spread across his lips, the smile that he had been having such a hard time finding lately, it spread smooth as butter this time and he found himself reaching out into the invisible current of events that was suddenly flowing so very clearly around him and skillfully diverting it. “I'm sorry I yelled at you, mom.”

 

She was surprised by the sudden change of subject, but she smiled weakly, showing just how much their last encounter days ago really had hurt her. Gohan's calm, quiet smile tilted upwards a twitch higher on one side and he lowered his head just the right amount, eyes slowly floating to the surface of the table. “Videl left me.” He said quietly, letting the words hang, turning himself into a bit of driftwood on the tide of them. Letting it sweep him away like so much flotsam and jetsam. He was just a bit of wasted debris upon it and his certainty of that only increased when his mother moved to the chair beside him and curled her dish water warm hands into his hair and drew him down until his cheek rested against her shoulder. He felt nothing as he let her try to soothe away a pain that didn't exist.

 

She gently stroked his unruly hair and his disconnected mind idly wondered why she never did this when he was a child. When it mattered. When he could still feel it. It might have felt nice then. “It'll be alright, sweetheart. I'm sure she didn't mean it. If you just talked to her, I know…”

 

He shook his head against her shoulder and pulled back, keeping his lost and morose gaze safely on the blank table. “We already talked last night…” He waited, letting the overwhelming current that was his mother's natural momentum rush around him, letting her choose her own route along the channel he had so carefully and so quietly just dug.

 

Chichi stared at him for a long moment, agonizing over the miserably lost look on her baby's face, her most gifted and able child, the only one of them that was so clearly destined for greatness, her baby who had always been so independent and dependable, the child that had never really needed her and who's talents she had gone to the farthest lengths to encourage. She stared at him as she tried desperately to decipher what it was that had changed to make him so forlorn that it made her want to cradle him to her chest. “Gohan…” Her voice was quiet and she reached out her kitchen callused fingers to stroke his bruised face. “Didn't this happen last night?”

 

He barely felt the touch, he was so far away now, so separate from everything and especially from her. His eyes merely flickered to her and away again without answering her. Letting her current cut its own path down the softening trench. It was always so much easier to step aside rather than stand in the way of his mother's bulldozing intensity, he could practically feel the air around her change as her own mind made up questions and answers and her own suggestions took root. “It's alright, mom, really…”

 

“She did this?!?” Motherly rage rang clear and loud in her shrill shout, but he didn't flinch. Somewhere far far at the back of his dark tunnel floated a phantom of amusement at her reaction. His mother was so good at overreacting.

 

He shrugged lopsidedly, his smile long gone slack. It was too easy to make his expression blank and numb, it was a reflection of his mind right now. “I don't know what she told you…or Bulma…she's been talking to Bulma a lot, I think… But it's okay… It doesn't matter…”

 

The angry blush that spread across Chichi's face said that it was anything but okay. She was livid. “It absolutely isn't!! Don't you ever ever say that! Why?? Why would she do such a thing??”

 

Gohan shrugged again, speaking very slowly and quietly. “I'm sure I deserved it. You know how she is. And she did warn me…I guess I should have listened. I didn't think she'd…well… I really never thought she'd act so…like that.”

 

Chichi's mouth flapped like a floundering fish for a few brief seconds. “I don't understand. Act like what? Gohan, what in the world are you talking about??”

 

He pursed his lips as he chose his next words, he couldn't lie, he was terrible at lying and he knew the hesitation would probably look like something else to her searching gaze. It would fit right into whatever his mother was searching for. He'd learned a long time ago that people often thought up their own answers if you gave them room and time to do so. “…Lian… I guess Videl thought the same thing you and Bulma did. But it's not like that. She's just my friend. I tried to tell her, but things got out of hand and… I wasn't going to let Videl hurt her.” A tremor shook his voice and he wasn't exactly sure why. It confounded him for a few seconds because he was sure he couldn't feel anything. He was blank. But it added marvelously to the overall effect. “After seeing her like that last night… I don't want to talk to her, mom, I'm done. It's one thing when it's just me. But not my friends…” His voice dipped lower as this last part surfaced almost on its own. Perhaps he wasn't completely blank…he actually felt a pang in these words. “…I have so few friends. They deserve better than that…”

 

His mother stared at him, lips parted in a horrified expression as her imagination conjured up terrible images of a conceited and self assured, always confident Videl…in contrast to the meek and wounded figure her eldest son now portrayed. Not just these last months, but increasingly over some time now. It had been a slow, subtle transformation that eluded attention at the time, but had taken a vague shape as her son grew further and further away from them. It was just a part of life, wasn't it? It was part of growing up. Like her husband, she had seen it, but what can a mother do other than watch with pride as her baby grew up so smart and independent and so full of potential? Until now… Now that he came to sit here in her kitchen staring hollowly at the table and saying that he deserved to be mangled. Her beautiful, sweet, mild mannered, obedient, unassuming little boy absolutely did not deserve any such treatment! He was finished with all that! He had finished when Buu had been beaten! He was done with that life. She had known he hated it and she had made sure it stopped. She remembered the expression on his face when he finally came home after that horrid last battle and she never wanted to see that hard blankness staring out from his eyes ever again. That's why she had pushed him so hard, it was so difficult to overcome her husband's charismatic draw toward fighting, but she had to. Gohan deserved better than that, he had never been able to just shrug it all off like Goku or Goten could. Now, the wooden way he stared at the table made her want to cry. “Has she done this before?”

 

That question reached through his numb shell, twisting around his insides, making his skin crawl along his spine with the first tentative coils of doubt. Was his mother, the woman who repeatedly beat his dad over the head with a frying pan when she was angry, had even knocked him unconscious once when he wasn't expecting it, was she really suggesting…? How amazingly hypocritical of her. He hadn't thought she would react like this. He could feel the current start to speed a little too fast now, carrying him through the trench and into a chasm, into uncertain territory. How had his mother had come to the conclusion that Videl might have…what? …abused him or something? He said nothing, he was too shocked. Did she really think so little of him? Was he that pathetic? He could fight all kinds of bad guys, he could destroy the planet if he tried hard enough, but she thought that a little human girl could hurt him, even someone as strong as Videl? On a regular basis? And that he would let her? How could she think that? And why wasn't he denying it? `Because I really am a pussy,' was his reply to himself. Because she really had hurt him this time.

 

That despondent thought was followed by a cascade of memories, Videl's face flashing through each one. Each time she had whacked him with random things, each time she had gotten angry or frustrated and let it out on him. Each time he had just laughed it off because she couldn't really hurt him. All women were like that, weren't they? Growing up watching his parents, what else was he supposed to think? She needed to let it out. He didn't mind…really. He couldn't say he liked it, but he never argued. It was like that joke about the mood ring; When your girlfriend is happy it turns green and when she's mad it leaves a red mark on your cheek. He had been Videl's proverbial stress-ball ever since they first met, because…well…because he could take it. So what did that say about their relationship? What if he hadn't been able to take it? Like last night. Would it have been different then? That question served to depress him even more, as impossible as that seemed, and he still hadn't said anything. What was he doing? Was he really going to let his mother think…that? That was so… He felt sullied as if his soul was tarnishing with each second that passed with his tongue stuck silently to the roof of his mouth. He couldn't look at her, really couldn't look now, but his refusal to respond merely served to cement the suggestion that had somehow materialized between them.

 

“Oh Gohan…”

 

He suddenly felt cornered again. He hadn't intended this. He hadn't meant to suggest that. But was it so bad? It might help things. It certainly would damage Videl's credibility with his mother. It might even do the same for Bulma's. Maybe…maybe it wasn't quite as atrocious as it felt if it made his mom ease up… It might give her something else to fixate on. Anything was better than having her focused squarely on him, right? Wasn't it? But it made him feel so horrible that he suddenly pushed away. He had to go, he couldn't stay and look her in the face anymore, he couldn't do it. “I need to go.”

 

Chichi stood up with him, wide eyed worry stretching over her face. “What? No, Gohan, wait…” But he was already rushing out the door, running away yet again, trying to leave this feeling behind him. He didn't like it, he hated it, like the taste of a sore throat that leaves you so thirsty, but also with the knowledge that it will only be painful if you try to swallow. A hand closed around his arm and spun him around before he could leave the house, his mother showing the deceptive strength that hid so quietly in her tiny frame. “Don't go! It's alright, Gohan…please, can we talk some more?”

 

He pulled his arm away roughly, fists clenching. Why wouldn't she just let him go? Why did everyone have to try to make him do things he didn't want? Why couldn't they just accept he didn't want their help?! “No! I don't want to talk! I just want to go! Dad!” He shouted much like Goten had earlier, stepping out onto the lawn and despairing when his father was nowhere in sight. As he tried to march across the lawn she grabbed his arm again, but he wrenched free once more. “Don't touch me!! Just leave me alone!! I don't need anyone! I don't need you fussing over me! I'm fine!” He fled into the woods surrounding his childhood home as his mother shouted after him, but she didn't follow. She stopped at the edge of the trees just like he told her to. It should have made him happy that she listened to him for once, but it didn't.

 

He stumbled through the woods until his legs turned wooden, which wasn't very long, shambling in no particular direction, consumed by a nearly physical mental pain that made his muscles tight and his side ache. He fished into his jacket, bringing out two pills and dry swallowing them. He knew he'd be stuck out here if his father didn't find him, but he didn't care at this point. Maybe if he found a soft, thick clump of clover to collapse into things might not be so bad. He remembered how he used to do that as a child when things were so simple and the world wasn't filled with monsters and failures. Maybe he could lie down and it would all just disappear. He could sink into the clover and just…disappear… He didn't really exist in the first place. This was not existence. Why not just make things right and just cease to exist all around, that would balance things out, wouldn't it? Finally his stiff legs wouldn't listen anymore and he tripped, skidding heavily on his knees in the soft mulch until he came to a stop, kneeling and staring at the dark ground numbly. What was the use in trying to move anymore? He should just lie down and disappear.

 

It wasn't long before large strong hands came to rest on his slumped shoulders. He made no move to acknowledge them, he knew it was his father. Goku crouched down beside him and regarded Gohan with a slow, calm smile that didn't serve to cover the concern in his eyes. “You okay?”

 

Gohan didn't look at him, he just kept staring straight ahead at the scattered leaves and grass, his voice sounding quietly preoccupied. “…no…”

 

His father just continued to look at him for a long moment, reading him. Goku had always been said to be so good at reading people. Gohan had always thought so, at least. He wondered vaguely what his father saw now. “Dinner will be ready soon…”

 

Still with that same blank, unmoving, empty gaze, he didn't wait for his father to finish speaking. “…no………I'm so tired, dad…”

 

Goku was silent for another moment. “I'll take you back to your apartment, then.” He carefully helped Gohan to his feet and held him securely, strong arms stretching around him in a momentary hugging pause. Then the second of stomach flutters that was instant transmission came and they were suddenly standing in the gloom of his stuffy, little home. When Goku slowly loosed his arm from around his shoulders, Gohan reached out to stop him and looked at Goku a little shamefacedly. “I'm not…I'm really not…” He couldn't finish the sentence. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say or if even he believed it himself. Finally he settled for something he'd been saying all his life. “I'm sorry, dad.”

 

Goku patted him reassuringly and smiled. “I could come by tomorrow when you're feeling better. Maybe we could spend the day together, hang out.”

 

Gohan hesitated and looked away. “Um…I…I really…think I want to be…alone…for a while. I need to…think.”

 

His dad was quiet again, but accepted that and nodded. “Alright. Maybe later.”

 

Gohan nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, later. I'd like that. Just…I'll let you know.” His father nodded again and then shrugged. “Okay. I'll see you later then, Gohan. Try and relax, okay? Everything comes easier when you don't worry about it, right?” His father grinned helpfully and then vanished again. Gohan was left staring morosely at where he had been. Then, after a long melancholy moment, he walked out of his apartment.

 

~

~~~

~

 

Hope was bustling as it usually was on a Saturday night. Gohan had hesitated at first, because he hadn't been able to find any of his buds or anyone that was more familiar than a blurred face, but it didn't matter anymore. He didn't care right now. All he wanted was to drown himself in ten inches of cold alcohol. Throwing himself into an open spot in the living room, he set the case of beer down with a thump on the coffee table and he set two bottles down possessively by his foot, wanting to save those for himself for after the beer had cleared the path directly to his brain. He hadn't even blushed all that much when he'd bought them, though he still couldn't look the cashier in the eye. Half a dozen pale, coal-lined faces turned from the television to take in the newcomer and his thoughtful gift, black lips breaking into grins. “Dig in.” Gohan invited the Goths, gesturing at the case. He'd brought plenty to share. The people he intended to share it with were nowhere to be found, but this was a sure way to gain a few instant friends in their absence.

 

~

~~~

~

 

It was a long time later when he woke up. He didn't know what time it was. He only knew that it was cheerfully bright and sunny outside and the warmth spilled in the windows onto the bustling inhabitants of Hope. It was too bustling as he shuffled zombie-like into the kitchen to scrounge up something to erase the foul taste of ashes that coated his tongue like wax. Slumping into a chair at the table, he dragged over a paper plate from the stack and began scooping a portion of whatever food was still steaming in the large silver pan sitting at the center of the table. He didn't care what it was, all he cared about was that it wouldn't taste like ash and it would make the hollow ache in his stomach fade. He certainly couldn't smell it through the throbbing headache that felt like steel wool rolling around inside his skull. He didn't even realize there was anyone else in the kitchen with him until a skinny, quiet guy slid into the seat beside him.

 

“Hey, man. You seen Lian around?”

 

Gohan slowly raised his eyes to the newcomer and didn't recognize him. He just blinked at him dully for a few seconds and then shook his head painfully, wincing as the muscles on the left side complained mightily that it was an unreasonable gesture to make. “No.” He croaked out. “Haven't seen her. Sorry.” He stuck a spoonful of food into his mouth and chewed mechanically.

 

The guy leaned back in his chair and slicked his heavily moosed hair back as if it were possible for it to be even a little out of place despite the lacquer. “Yeah. That chick. I can never keep up with her either. You're Angel, right?”

 

Gohan closed his eyes as he swallowed and grimaced because his neck muscles were blatantly telling him that they were absolutely not going to have all this activity. He put down the spoon and grabbed a warm can of soda from a random package set out on the table. Fishing a pill from his coat, he washed it down and looked at the guy again. “I guess so. Yeah. Sorry, I'm kinda out of it.” He decided to forgo eating anymore for the moment and began trying to gently massage his shoulder instead.

 

The guy just grinned. “Hey, no biggy. I've seen you around a few times. I'm kinda surprised she never brought you over.” He leaned his elbows onto the table as he watched Gohan, his movements giving an odd impression of smooth slinkiness, as if a sudden move could possibly send him slinking right out the door and out of sight. “My name's Jack. You know…that looks like it hurts. I betcha I could hook you up with something that'd take the edge off.” Jack gestured at Gohan's pained shoulder and smirked.

 

Gohan grunted and glanced at Jack noncommittally. “It's always like this when I first wake up. It'll loosen up.” He rested his forehead on the table with a thump, wishing his head would clear a little. He probably did look like a zombie. He sure felt like the undead. “You ever wish the world would just stop turning?” It was a random question. One that didn't really mean anything. It was just an expression of some of the frustration he felt inside and couldn't hide from now that the alcoholic haze had lifted.

 

“Sure, man. All the time.” Jack answered with a smile clear in his voice. “You know, there's ways to make the earth stop, just like there's ways to make it move.” He stood and moved away for a moment. When he returned, he set a glass in front of each of them and poured a generous helping of some brown liquid into each one. “At the very least, this ought to take the edge off too.”

 

Eyebrows raised appreciatively and Gohan pushed the food away in favor of the drink, drawing it to himself and taking a sip. He made a face at the bitter bite and then took a larger gulp, eyes squinting and lips forming into a grimace, but that didn't stop the relieved sigh that erupted from his burning throat. That hit the spot. He looked over when Jack chuckled at him and searched for some sort of conversation to make up. “So…you're…a friend of Lian?” Not that there were many people around Hope who weren't friendly or at least knew Lian. She was one of those that flitted easily through every group. Gohan envied that about her.

 

Jack shrugged and nodded. “Here and there. We go way back.” He smirked again when Gohan tipped his head back and drank half the glass of liquor. “Really, man. If you ever get the itch…I'm telling you. I got something that'll fix you up good.”

 

Sighing, Gohan set the glass on the table and sank down in the chair, staring at the swirling liquid glumly. He felt… He felt… Well, he couldn't feel that numbness that was so helpful when dealing with his mother anymore. He felt…bad. More than bad. There wasn't a negative word that he could think of that described what he felt like right now. Not physically. Physically, he was fucked up. His shoulder and the entire left side of his torso ached with sharp pinching stings flowing through his muscles and bones and cartilage and fading into numbness wherever the stinging didn't penetrate. That wasn't even including the hangover, though that was starting to fade as this new infusion of alcohol flooded his veins. What he felt was an overwhelming…just…badness. Going and getting rip roaring blasted was supposed to make this go away. It didn't seem to help this time. “Yeah? Like what?” He didn't ask because he was particularly interested, though if it could possibly make this awful feeling go away then he was certainly game.

 

His mind kept swirling back to the last few days. He wondered where Videl was. What she was doing. If she was still angry or had already dismissed the whole thing…and if so, then when was she going to turn up and demand he roll over for her again. Whether his mom was still upset with him for running out on her. Or how badly his dad was disappointed with him this time. How he hadn't wanted to go visit them in the first place. He was a terrible boyfriend and an even worse son. He had screwed up so many things and he couldn't even start to imagine how to fix any of it. Everything had just blown apart, like a cyclone had plowed through his life and left nothing but scraps that he couldn't possibly piece back together. He didn't really want to. Not anymore. He had spent so much time building the perfect house of cards. Every piece had been exactly where it needed to be. He had worked so hard to balance his life into normalcy. Now he realized that all that he had worked for had really been empty. It had never made him happy. It wasn't what he thought he wanted. So much wasted time and energy.

 

Now he was left sitting in the rubble and he imagined that he could see freedom, hanging on the outskirts of the catastrophe. If he could just reach it, step out of the cage he had lived in for so long. He wanted to, but he still didn't know how. He had been learning, though. Slowly, as his world crumbled he had been learning that there was existence outside his cage that wasn't so horrifically black and white. He was slowly learning what colors were. He had made so many regrettable mistakes focusing on just those two shades. What a fool he was. And everyone who had taught him to focus on those two extremes. Did that make them fools too? Or were they just trying to keep him on the straight and narrow by pretending that nothing else existed and everything outside of that was somehow inherently bad? How laughable was that belief? How absurd was that?

 

Well, he wasn't convinced anymore and when he thought back on how naïve he had been such a short time ago he couldn't help but scoff at how stupidly dense he was. For example, the people he now held dear as friends, buds, he wouldn't have even considered worth talking to before. He probably would even have looked down on them. Life had taken on such a hugely different face now and everything that he had thought was so important before…now was just so much junk to be unloaded. Nothing was worth anything anymore. So, when Jack invited him to the Back Room to see what it was that could take the edge off, all he did was stare at his glass for another few seconds, drink it, and then he smiled at Jack with a lopsided shrug. “Sure.”

 

~

~~~

~

 

He hadn't even known the Back Room existed. He had never noticed the little alcove that was actually a tiny hallway that gave access to the farthest corner of Hope's first floor. It was dark and dusty and the room the hallway which led past a tiny, grungy little bathroom and then opened up on a surprisingly spacious room. Not large, but it stretched longways along the end of the house and was crammed with a few old, worn couches and a couple day beds pressed to the walls and blankets and pillows strewn every which way. Throughout the whole room there was just enough walking space to slide along between the furniture and not much more. Jack led the way and threw himself down on one of the daybeds with a grin.

 

“This is my room. But you're welcome to drop by and keep me company whenever you like, Angel. I'm always up for company.” Jack patted the mattress beside him for Gohan to sit down.

 

Gohan walked over slowly, edging between another couch that practically pressed right up against the mattress. As he sat, he looked around and noticed there were two individuals toward the other end of the room sleeping soundly. He lowered his voice, glancing back over at Jack who was now rummaging through the drawers of an end table noisily. “Are you sure we aren't going to bother them?”

 

Jack looked over at them and just laughed. “Them? No way. They're out. It's not how I'd wanna waste mine, but to each their own, right?” He went back to whatever he was doing out of sight in the drawer.

 

Gohan raised an eyebrow at the two sleepers, but he wasn't about to worry about it. Instead he stretched himself out on his stomach on the bed and looked over toward whatever was keeping Jack so busy. “Sure.” He heard the snick of a lighter and could smell something burning for just a moment. “What are you doing?”

 

Jack just smirked at him and continued his fiddling inside the drawer. “Trade secrets, Angel. I never tell.” But then he finished and set down to hypodermic needles on top of the end table along with a length of rubber and waggled his eyebrows at Gohan. “Which arm you want? Could do the bad one. Might be quicker.”

 

Gohan's eyes widened when he saw the needles and he sat up, pulling back with not only a little trepidation. “Uh…I don't think… What…what is that?” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He wasn't afraid of needles like his dad was. They weren't the thing that caused him to falter. It was one thing…alcohol…medication…those weren't really serious things. Everybody drank. Everyone could get it. Doctors prescribed medication all the time. But this…this was…the nicest, most harmless word he could think of was Invasive. But really, that wasn't what he was thinking.

 

Jack just smirked again, that shifty little expression that showed that he knew exactly what Gohan was thinking. “Like I said. It'll take the edge off. You'll be amazed.” He picked up the length of rubber and looked at Gohan expectantly. “It doesn't have to be the needle, but I already went to the trouble, you know. It ain't gonna hurt. I'm real good at this. And anyway, it's a hell of a lot faster this way.” Gohan still hesitated, he didn't know what to say to the offer. Jack took that in stride, though. Like he was expecting it. He just shrugged and scooted back onto the bed beside Gohan, leaning his back against the wall. “Hey, that's alright. I'll do mine first. That way you'll know there's nothing to it. Yeah?”

 

He pushed up his sleeve and tied the rubber around his own arm one handed, fingers moving with practiced deftness. As the blood flow was cut off and his skin paled, the thick marks on his well worn arm showed even more starkly. Gohan stared in fascination as Jack picked up one of the needles and slid the shining steel into his own arm before drawing on the plunger. There was a splash of red that swirled amidst the clear liquid within the needle's contents and then it all was disappearing into his body with a decisive press of his fingers. Jack pulled the sharp metal out and the rubber came loose with a snap. The entire mesmerizing show took only a few seconds from start to finish and then Jack relaxed with a blissful sigh against the wall, his lips quirking into that silkily sly smile. “See? Nothin to it. And shit…it's some good shit today.” He raised an eyebrow at Gohan expectantly, his eyes already turning glassy. “So, you want it or not? It ain't as much fun flying solo, you know. Come on, man. You said you wanted to know if you could stop the world turning.” That smirk again. “This is the only way I know how.”

 

Stop the world from turning. Had he really said that? Yeah. He guessed he did. How many things had he already done that would have his mother screaming? How many things had he purposefully subjected himself to that would shock everyone that ever thought they knew him? How much of it had made him feel…better…more alive…more connected to the other human beings all around him that he had always yearned to be a part of? Most of it. Really…the only thing that had held him back had been the fear. The fear of what they would think, those people who were supposed to love him and care about him and be there for him. But why did it matter what they thought? He had never been able to make them happy no matter what he did…so why should this matter any more than the rest of it? If this made it better and took the edge off…just once…he could see what it was like just once.

 

“…yeah. Sure…Why not?” Slowly Gohan pushed up his sleeve on his left arm. Not high enough for Jack to be able to see the scar, but enough so he could tie off the vein. His heart was racing as his arm started to tingle, muscles tightening uneasily as he watched Jack's nimble fingers. In the back of his mind he could hear that tiny voice of reason shouting at him. This was stupid. This was going too far. This was wrong. As the needle sank into his skin with a slight pinch he couldn't help but count in his head all the myriad of diseases that had been scientifically proven to be caused by un-sterilized needles. But he was half Saiyan. He never got sick, never had a cold, never had to be rushed to the hospital with a fever. He'd only been to the hospital twice in his life now. Each time wasn't because he was sick so…he was safe. Wasn't he?

 

As if Jack read his mind, he grinned and scoffed lightly. “Ease up, man. It's clean. I told ya. I'm not some rookie. I'm good with this.”

 

Gohan just watched the liquid flush with a droplet of his blood and then drew in a breath as it suddenly inserted itself into his body. It was still warm from whatever Jack had done to it inside the confines of the drawer. He barely felt the needle withdraw as he marveled numbly at what he had just done. Oddly, that voice had subsided now. It was too late for reason anyway. It was the snap of the rubber that snapped him from his uncertain thoughts and then, slowly, he started to feel…lightheaded. A few seconds later or maybe a minute later, he was still frowning at the air between them, trying to follow the growing feeling. He blinked and rolled his eyes, leaning back with a look of amazement.

 

“Oh wow…”

 

It was like the morphine. Oh that godsend of morphine when he was in such a dark place. It was beautiful. It was a feeling he had missed for so very long. His shiny blue umbrella with its silver handle. He sank down on the bed and a goofy smile spread across his face as it all just melted away. It melted away just the way he had been craving ever since his first few weeks in the hospital. Ever since his first taste of that euphoric heaven all those months ago with a pretty paramedic and a kind orderly with strong broad shoulders. Suddenly it was all okay. Everything was perfect now that he had his umbrella back again and he didn't care what the stuff was anymore. It was exactly what he had been searching for.

 

“See? I told ya.” He sounded so smug, but just now Gohan definitely didn't give a damn.

 

~

~~~

~

 

“You're not just gonna pass out on me, are you, Angel?”

 

Gohan's eyes slid open drowsily to slowly focus on Jack stretched out beside him on the bed. He smiled dreamily at him and shook his head. “Naw. I'm wide awake.”

 

Jack grinned sleekly, his breath warm on Gohan's face. “Good. `Cause, like I said, it's not as much fun flying solo.” Then he closed the few inches distance between them and pressed his lips to Gohan's, gently at first, but it isn't long before it grows more demanding. The contact, the kiss, only intensifies the already exhilarating euphoria and Gohan doesn't even try to think about it. He only reacts to it, craving more, searching for that promised ecstasy. There is no little voice of reason now and no fear, no restrictions or reservations. There's nothing but the pleasure of the moment and the desperate need for more. If he were capable of caring at that instant in time, it probably would have terrified him. As it was, though, he just bucked against the other body and moaned as hot heavy breaths filled the room and the press of a demanding body against his own felt so very good. It was hardly more than a dream as he lay in a fog-like haze of pleasure, his own body seeming heavy and clumsy compared to the Jack's lithe frame and dexterous hands.

 

Instinct and unthinking reactions did nothing to prepare him for the pain that came suddenly and his inexperience and inherent naiveté couldn't dampen the shock of it either. Tensing, he gave a breathless yelp and tried to move, but the body pressed against his back shifted again sending another sharp tearing pain through him and he shuddered, pressing his face against the mattress as his strength once again betrayed him and left him shaking under the other's weight. Jacks arms curled around him tightly, locking his arms down, and Gohan could feel hot breaths through his hair, Jack's cheek pressed against the back of his neck, heavy breaths filling up his ears, and then movement lanced him. Hot, hard flesh stretching him, invading, delving inside, painful, but sliding slick and smooth. He panted and tried to find his voice, a word, any words, but all that came out was a slightly shrill gasp and then Jack really started to move and all possible communication was cut off. The pain was sharp and hot, but that wasn't all there was. Soon there was more, a ghostly, indistinct sort of pleasure would spike and he would gasp again, fingers curling ineffectually into the sheets as Jack's body rocked against his, but it wasn't nearly enough to offset the discomfort. And then it was over. He felt something hotter splash inside his overly sensitive body and then the warmth was gone and he was left alone and aching, sprawled in a hazy daze on his stomach on the daybed against the wall.

 

He laid there, his breaths slowing and his body loosening again, staring at his fingers that were twisted into the sheet. He just stared thoughtlessly for a long time. It wasn't that he didn't understand what just happened and it wasn't even that he was having a hard time coming to grips with it. It wasn't as if he hadn't…wanted it…really…but it wasn't at all what he had…expected. Still, he had his umbrella and he was so blissfully disconnected from the reality of it that for the moment all that really occurred to him was a vague discontentment at the fact that he hurt differently now. And that he was still hard and really…the thought occurs to him that he shouldn't be, but he was. He rolled over onto his side with a tiny hiss as he gingerly searched for a comfortable position, his pants still around his knees. He tried to tug them up again and groaned, arching as his hands fumbled over still hot skin. He gave up and tugged a blanket strewn at the edge of the bed over himself lazily instead because there really was no problem, no reason to spaz, the drug running hot through his system was…was worth it. Really…it didn't matter... He had a sudden dim realization as he stared out fuzzily at the room that the other two in the room weren't sleeping, they were just lost in the high. He decided that they had the right idea. Vaguely he pushed Jack and all other thoughts far out of his head and for once his mind cooperated, allowing him to just drift blissfully.