Welcome to Boxer & Rice

I’ll never let anyone come between us

I’ll never let anyone come between us

I’ll never let *anyone* come between us

Never again

The first time I ever laid eyes on Trunks Briefs was at the World Tournament. He was eighteen years old I believe, and what a splendid eighteen he made. Just old enough for it to be alright to make eyes at him in public without being considered a pervert by anyone who happened to catch me.

Or at least, too much of a pervert anyway, because there are still some people who frown upon homosexuality, but I’m not going to delve into that. I was always out with who I am, so I’ll return to the point.

We were to fight each other in the tournament on the very first round and I was far too taken with him to notice myself sneaking up on him while his back was turned to get a closer look as the announcer addressed the audience. I smelled the wonderful scent of his cologne and… oh! I couldn't help but put my hands to my cheeks and gush out my admiration for him.

Out of the corner of a perfect blue eye, he must have seen me because his entire body jerked away and he shivered in disgust, he eyed me as though expecting me to attack him before the bell rang. His face wide in horror with having a man standing so close to him.

I’d received that sort of hateful reaction before. It was the kind a straight man or woman usually gave to the unfortunate gay individual who just so happened to be hitting on them. Still, it never stopped the sting of rejection.

I suppose I should have known better, few teenagers are willing to admit to a large crowd of people their own sexuality, even if they chanced to swing that way to begin with.

Still looking very much like I had scarred him for life, he turned and walked away from me, and I could hear his friend in the corner jeering out playful insults to him.

“Even the boys like you, Trunks!”

“Shut it, Goten!”

We walked into our own corners and when the bell rang… well… just know that the fight was quick.

I was sure I would come out on top. I was larger then he was and therefor stronger, but he must have been swifter then I, because I was down before I could even contemplate whether or not I should bruise that beautiful face of his for the sake of the fight.

I came to seconds later to hear the cheer of the crowd and the announcement of the winner.

Trunks was receiving congratulations and pats on the back from friends and family, and he spared me a small glance before turning away, embarrassed, and leaving my sight. I put my head back down in shame and lay there until two men in medical suits came out, thinking me to be too injured to move. I almost was, but not in the way they thought me to be.

My name is Otoko Sukii.

Some years later, I managed to land a job at Capsule Corp. I’d given up fighting for money and wanted something respectable, but I always took excellent care of my body.

I enjoyed my job, and I made friends easily, mainly with the women who somehow zoned in on the fact that I was gay and took an interest. When I mentioned I hadn't dated in years, one nice young girl grabbed hold of my arm and said: “With these kind of pecks you should be having guys beating down your door! Don’t worry, someone will come along.” And she winked conspiratorially at me.

I was grateful to her, but no less then five minutes after the coffee break did an uproar of all the ladies occur as they all rushed to the door to have a look out.

“The president! The president is here!” One woman squealed.

“Isn't he hot?” Said another.

“I wish he’d come down here more often.” Swooned my friend.

I’d heard plenty about the president, it seemed to always be at the top of the list of things to discuss, and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

As I was taller then all the women, I could see easily above their heads as I peeked out the door, and the sight took my breath away.

It was him. It really was him, Trunks Briefs. Standing in the middle of two cubicles going over some papers in his hands with another employee while ignoring the stares of the women in the cubicles behind him.

My reaction was the same the last time we’d met. My hands went to my cheeks and I gushed and blushed.

He looked so handsome in a suit, and the glasses gave him a look of maturity that he never had at eighteen. But at the same time, it was like he hadn't aged a day.

“I know him.” I said, ghosting around the girls to approach the president. I had thought of him very little in years or, very little once I had finally gotten over my humiliation at the tournament.

Trunks had nodded to the man he was speaking to, and the man walked off to do something else, Trunks looked like he was about to leave as well until I addressed him.

“Hello Trunks.”

Trunks stopped short and turned to give me a sharp glance probably for addressing him so formally on the job.

He cocked a brow at me. “Hello, and you are?” He sounded irritated.

I felt the familiar sting of rejection hit. After all these years, he didn’t remember me like I did him. He’d forgotten me.

I tried to recover quickly. “My name it Otoko Sukii, and I work in this department now. Don’t you remember? You clobbered me in the last tournament when you were eighteen.” I laughed, trying to make a joke of it.

Trunks’s eyes rolled up, as if he were thinking about it. If I’m not mistaken, he’d clobbered nearly everyone in that tournament until he reached the final five rounds where things became difficult and he made fourth place after losing to his father.

The girls behind me were looking on with interest, and I played with the idea of what it would be like to bag the man they were always competing for a glance of.

Finally, a spark of recognition crossed his eyes and Trunks looked at me and smiled, took my hand and shook it enthusiastically.

“Hey, yeah I remember you now. Nice seeing you again.” He said, and I tried my hardest not to sputter or faint. Apparently, ten years had done his maturity more good then a suit could show, as he was no longer afraid to be near a man who’d once openly made eyes at him.

“Are you still competing?” He asked casually, his hands in his pockets, and I could feel jealous eyes on my back.

I shook my head. “No, I’m too old for that now, almost fifty, and having a steady paycheck is nice.”

Trunks chuckled. “Age has nothing to do with it. My father is still going at it and he’s not giving up.”

I was surprised. “Still?” I asked. As far as I knew, the man was pushing seventy.

“Yeah, still. I have to get back to work now,” He didn’t look too thrilled. “Maybe we can have a friendly spar some time?”

I laughed. “And have you clobber me again? No, thanks.”

Trunks chuckled and went on his merry way and I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

Of course, the number of friends I had afterwards diminished a great deal.

I risked my job foolishly after that. I sent Trunks flowers, chocolates, and cards with hearts and poems on them anonymously. Employee, employer relationships were strictly forbidden, and then there was still the chance that he would become disgusted again when he realized that I still held an interest. Seeing him again brought all old feelings back to the surface, and instead of mucking everything up like before I would be cool and calm. Suave as I romanced him off his feet.

Love knows no age after all.

I never knew how he took to having a secret admirer but he always seemed cheerful after getting his tokens from me, as I would always leave them in his office where he was sure to find them, and where I was also sure to catch his reaction as he walked down the hallways after his meetings.

One day, as I was preparing a nice bouquet of roses in a vase, making sure they sat perfectly on his desk, I heard the door click and voices behind it.

I stood, frozen, waiting for the door to open and for Trunks to catch me, but the door didn’t open. Someone had halted Trunks and they were talking on the other end of the door.

I searched frantically for a place to hide, and found the closet space were Trunks kept his expensive jackets to be the only spot, so I took it.

It was cramped, not meant for much at all, but it had to do, there was nowhere else to go.

Finally, the door opened all the way and Trunks walked in with a companion, laughing at some joke that had been told before he spotted the roses on the desk and approached. I could see his reaction through the tiny space in between the two closet doors.

“Gohan, did you send these?” He asked, and the man called Gohan approached, coming up behind Trunks to have a look over his shoulder.

Jealousy surged through me at how close he was to my Trunks, but I had to remind myself that Trunks was straight and that this was probably just a good friend.

But then, why would he ask if this Gohan person sent them or not? Was he gay as well?

Gohan brought his hands up to massage Trunks’ shoulders. “Don’t know, but it wasn't me.” He said.

`He’s a massage therapist, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.’ I thought, trying to keep my anger in check.

My thoughts were shattered when Gohan turned Trunks around and kissed him. I expected Trunks to throw the man off of him, but he didn’t. He put one hand in Gohan’s hair and another on his arm and kissed back far too tenderly for my liking before they broke apart.

“Because you know, I've been getting a lot of these things for a while now. I always thought it was you.”

“Me?” Asked Gohan curiously.

Trunks licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah, but the first time it happened I went home and you didn’t say anything and I guess I just kept forgetting to tell you about them.”

Gohan ran his hand through the petals. Searching. “Is there a card?”

Trunks shook his head. “Doubt it, there never is. Not one with a name on it anyway.” He paused for a few seconds. “I’m surprised it’s not you, flowers, and chocolates seemed kind of like the thing you’d do.”

Gohan shook his head. “I know you hate that sentimental stuff.” He said, rubbing Trunks’s arms.

I almost choked when I heard that and I was forced to cover my mouth just to keep from being heard. All that hard work of trying to win him over and he never even liked the idea of romance.

Trunks smiled up at his lover, boyfriend, partner? I couldn't tell what the man was.

“I wouldn't mind it if it came from you.” He said and I fought to keep tears at bay.

Trunks walked around the desk and pulled open a drawer. “Besides, I really don’t mind the chocolates.” He said with a grin, pulling out one of the many boxes of chocolate sweets I had given him.

Gohan’s eyes lit up. “You little sneak! You've got chocolate hidden here and you didn’t tell me?”

“I've got tons of this stuff. Sometimes I eat it when I’m going over the proposals.” Said my God with a knowing smirk. “Want some?”

There was no hesitation. “What do I have to do to get it?” Gohan said, bouncing from heal to toe with excitement.

One word made my heart ache.

“Strip.”

They were going to have sex right there in the office and I would be forced to watch or else give up my job.

And watch I did, I couldn't turn my eyes away when Trunks hand fed his lover a single bit of the chocolate that I had bought for him with every piece of clothing that was removed.

Eventually, Trunks replaced his chocolate melted fingers with his mouth, and he and this… this… *Gohan* person kissed all the way to the carpeted floor.

It was heartbreaking and exhilarating seeing the man I loved moan for someone else. His face twisting in pleasure as they both grunted, rolled, sweated and just plain *moved* for each other.

I could see his entire body wrapped around his, see his face as he groaned and came with the pleasure that I should have been giving him. I had never been so turned on in my life. The closet was entirely too hot.

When they were finished, I tried to pretend that I hadn't seen what they had just done. That Trunks was merely experimenting with one of possibly dozens of other men. Trunks was the most eligible bachelor in all of Japan. Sought after by millions of men and women. What I had seen, once I chose to admit that it happened, meant nothing to him at all.

But then: “I love you.” was spoken.

I froze, my eyes peering eagerly through the crack to see Gohan leaning above the love of my life, still out of breath and looking down at him with nothing less then adoration in his eyes.

Trunks reached a hand up to run his fingers through dark hair, the same affectionate look mirrored on his own face. “I love you too.”

And just like that, my world shattered.

I wouldn't say I blacked out, because I know I was awake, but I don’t remember seeing them get dressed and leave, or the sun go down and the stars come up. In fact, when I finally snapped out of it, the only personnel left in the building were the cleaning ladies and janitors.

I went home and walked into the shower, but the cold water wasn't enough. I had to touch myself with thoughts of Trunks in my mind. His body, his face, his voice as he hissed in pleasure…

I came too quickly for it to be right and went straight to sleep. Thoughts of betrayal swirling around in my dreams.

If Trunks truly did play for the other team, then why look at me with such horrific disgust when I clearly had an interest in him? Was he trying to tell me there was something wrong with me? Was I really that ugly?

I had black hair like Gohan, and I was muscular like Gohan. Granted, Gohan didn’t have my manly mustache, but regardless Gohan held the heart that I wanted. And I was determined to get it no matter what the cost.

When morning came I picked out my best suit, showered again and reluctantly shaved off my mustache. I applied some of my fanciest cologne and put the last gift I would ever give to Trunks in my pocket. He had to accept me this time. I would tell him that it was really I who had admired him from afar, and that it was only I who could make him happier then he ever felt.

Once I had calmed myself enough, I realized that the name Gohan had a familiar tinge to it, so I did a search on my computer and sure enough, Gohan Son came up as one of the many competitors of the last World Tournament. He was the man who won that day.

Feeling smug and with a sense of purpose, I printed out enough information on him to send a quick fax of my intent. Things like these were meant for fans, but it would do the trick. The last World Tournament was far too long ago for him to still be getting piles and piles of fan mail. He was sure to read what I had to say. It was only fair that I let him know what I was doing, he did claim to love Trunks after all.

When finished, I headed out and went straight to work, but I did not punch in. I took the elevator to the top floor and knocked on Trunks’ door.

“Come in.” I heard, and I entered.

Trunks looked up and smiled fondly as though greeting an old friend. We had spoken quite a bit since our reintroduction to each other.

“Hey Otoko, how’s it hanging?” He asked, removing the glasses from his face.

I took a breath. “I’m afraid we have something of a problem.”

Trunks immediately rose to his feet, knocking his chair over. “Don’t tell me there was another explosion–”

“No! No, nothing like that.” I said, calming him.

“What is it then?” He asked.

I could bare it no longer, with less then five seconds of twitching my feet I speed walked across the room and around the desk to take his face into my hands for our first kiss.

I must have shocked him, because he didn’t move for some seconds until finally shoving me away. “What are you doing!” He yelled, backing away and stumbling over his overturned chair before he could right himself.

As he backed away, I followed. “Trunks, I still love you, I always have.” I was pleading with him to understand and not turn me away. This wasn't suave and sophisticated like I had planned. It was fast and clumsy. Already I was mucking it up.

His posture seemed to relax at my admission. “Otoko, I don’t even know you.” He said.

I kept on speaking as though he didn’t say anything at all. “Ever since the last tournament, the first time I saw you–”

“Otoko–”

“I was in love with you but you cringed away from me and I thought you were straight.”

“Otoko, I think you should sit down–”

“Then I find out that not only are you not straight, but you’re seeing a man named Gohan!”

“How do you know about Gohan?” I didn’t see the immediate look of defense on his face.

“What’s the matter with me? Is it my face? My body? I shaved off my mustache for you, do I look any better now! Tell me!” I didn’t realize I was screaming at him, or that I’d grabbed him by the arms and started to violently shake him until he threw me away where I crashed into the door and landed on my knees.

Like a rag doll.

We were both breathing heavily from the excitement, and my head throbbed terribly. The real difference was that I was on the floor and Trunks was looking down at me with that same look of disgust I had seen ten years earlier. The only addition was that now he was shaking with rage.

“I’ll forget all of what you just said and even let you keep your job Otoko, but only if you get out of my office.” He snarled, and then his intercom buzzed.

“Mr President? Gohan Son to see you. He said it’s urgent.”

Trunks continued to stare me down for some seconds, ignoring the girl calling to him before turning his back on me to press the little button that would answer her.

“Send him up.” He said.

The intercom buzzed again. “He’s on his way up now, he left a few seconds ago, we couldn't keep him down here.”

Time was running out, and I rose to my feet and pulled the weapon out of my pocket and unlocked the safety. I wouldn't let anyone come between us again.

Trunks continued to speak with his secretary, trying to decipher what it was that had his lover so concerned, unaware of my approach until the steel barrel was touching the lavender strands of hair on his head.

“I won’t let him come between us.” I hadn't realized I was sobbing.

Trunks’s body tensed, and he only had enough time to turn halfway around until I pulled the trigger.

This time his body was the one to fall like a rag doll. Against the desk and to the floor.

The gun shot was loud. I didn’t own a silencer. And I could hear the screams of the women on all floors who had heard the shot.

Blood and other things splattered themselves all over Trunks’ papers and his good cherry desk, but I tried not to look at them. I fell to my knees and turned his body around, still crying out my grief. His eyes were still open, and his mouth was parted just enough to allow me one last kiss. He was warm enough that it felt like he was still alive in my arms.

The office door blasted open, as though a bomb had exploded behind it, and although I had expected to find the man called Gohan, who was the very reason my love lay dead in my arms, instead an angel came through the wreckage. Glowing gold with spiky blonde hair, he eyed the blood and body of my beloved in horror and despair before his eyes landed on me. He looked very much like he wanted to kill me, but I put the gun to my head.

My life was my own to take, not God’s.

“I’m not letting you separate us!” I screamed, and I pulled the trigger just as God’s angel lunged for me.

***

When I came to, I was in a lineup that stretched as far as the eye could see. Yellow clouds were everywhere but they did not move, and the faint murmuring of everyone in line was a constant sound. My hands were a faint color that could only be described as watered down milk. Just in front of me in the lineup, was non other then Trunks, my beautiful Trunks! Alive and well!

He was the same color as myself, but I recognized him even when his hair wasn't that wonderful shade of purple.

I wondered where we were?

Happily, I threw my arms around him and kissed his neck. He tensed and groaned at my touch.

“What’s wrong?” I asked curiously.

He turned to look at me, angry milky white eyes boring into my own. “Feel free to consider yourself lucky I don’t have my body, otherwise I’d kill you again! So until we get to the end of this lineup I don’t want you touching me!”

For some reason, I couldn't understand what was the matter. What was he talking about? Of course he had his body, but before I could ask any questions, a strange, skinny bluish demon with glasses, horns, and a clipboard appeared before us.

“Trunks Brief and Otoko Sukii?” It asked.

I slung my arm around Trunks’s waist quite happily. “That’s us.” I said, barely noticing Trunks trying to remove my arm from his person. I myself was quite confused as to how he could be so strong that he could throw me across a room one minute, but be unable to escape the next. It didn’t matter though, as long as we were together then nothing mattered.

“Yes! That’s us! Take us to King Yemma!” Trunks demanded hotly, looking desperate.

And just like that we were lifted into the air, leaving behind all the other milky people in line and hearing them groan as we were cutting to the front. I was grinning from ear to ear. I had my love in my arms and I was soaring through the clouds. Nothing could be better.

King Yemma turned out to be a giant sitting behind a desk three stories high, and I could do nothing but stare up at him in wonderment while Trunks still fought to be free of me.

The giant finally spoke. “Trunks Briefs, you are being wished back to life on New Namek.” He said, writing something down on a giant sheet of paper.

“Oh, thank God!” He breathed, and I looked at him closely, unsure of what was going on. What was New Namek? Back to life? Did I really kill the both of us?

“What will happen to me?” I asked, clutching Trunks to me as though he were my life line.

King Yemma seemed to lift a brow at me. “Because you were the reason for all this, and you were so close in the line to each other I had you brought here for sentencing, otherwise I would have simply made you wait in line like the others.”

“Sentencing?” I asked, becoming afraid.

“Otoko, let go of me.” Trunks hissed, but I did no such thing. We were going to be together forever. I wasn't going to let anyone come between us.

“Remove those two spirits from each other!” Bellowed the giant.

The skinny demon came and grabbed my Trunks around his shoulders while I was being pulled away by something much bigger and pinkish.

“No! No, no, no, no!!” I screamed, fighting for everything I was worth to keep them from taking him from me, but it did no good as Trunks struggled and was pulled away from me and released while the pink demon kept two hands on my shoulders to ensure I wouldn't go anywhere.

“I love you, Trunks.” I said to him, wishing he would just come back to me and let me hold him.

Instead, he seemed to be *thanking* the little blue demon who separated us before snarling at me. “Well I don’t love you!” He snapped, and he disappeared like the mist right before my eyes.

“No! No!” I screamed and struggled, desperately willing him to come back. He couldn't leave me, he couldn't leave me! Why did he go?

“What did you do with him!?” I snapped at the giant, hardly fearful for myself.

The giant barely spared me a glance. “He was sent back where he belongs.”

“He belongs with me!”

The giant looked at me then, eyeing me for the audacity I had to challenge him. He then leaned forward in his chair and spoke evenly.

“Your sentencing, while tragic, is straightforward. You are a murderer and a suicide. Despite the unfortunate events that led you to such acts the punishment is clear.” He said, sounding regretful for only a moment. “You are to spend the rest of eternity in the third circle of Hell, and be glad I’m merciful enough to leave you with only that!” Bellowed the giant, and I was led away as he called out a loud “Next!” to sentence another spirit.

I thought we were going to be together forever. Now we were going to be apart forever. Because I didn’t just try to kill a man, my love, I had sinned terribly and tried to kill a living God.

***

Trunks was quiet as he let Gohan hold him.

The first thing the older man did when he came back was run to him and envelope him in a bear hug that nearly knocked the wind out of him while he cried out his apologies for not being able to save him.

Trunks just stood quietly, hugging Gohan back and making the same soothing noises his mother made for him when he was young. It was the only thing that would make him feel better, because hearing how it wasn't his fault wouldn't reach his ears while he was so hysterical. Sometimes Gohan was more like his mother then he thought he was.

“I love you Gohan.” Said Trunks, kissing his cheeks.

“I love you too.” Gohan choked, looking him in the eyes before burying his face in his neck again. “Oh God, I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Trunks insisted. “He didn’t hurt me.” And he lifted Gohan’s face to look at him, wiping away his tears with his thumbs. “Can we just go home now?” He asked.

Gohan nodded, dried his eyes and kissed him while both of their father’s thanked the Nameks for their help.

“I’m just glad he’s dead. That sick fuck. He’s lucky he killed himself because I was about to rip his head off!” Gohan snapped on the walk towards the ship, Trunks holding his hand the entire way there, something he rarely did.

“I know the feeling of wanting to do that, but from now on I think I’ll refrain from speaking to weird people I don’t know.” Trunks said, deadly serious with his claim.

Unlike when Otoko had tried it, when Gohan put his arm around Trunks’ waist, it felt natural to the both of them, and he walked feeling content that he was in the arms of the right person.

Otoko Sukii’s name was brought up those few times he was mentioned in the news for his failed attempt to kill the CEO of Capsule Corp, but then he was later forgotten and never spoken of again by anyone.