When You Least Expect It
by Ice Angel     More by this Writer
When Gohan’s lover leaves him, the dark haired demi Saiyan convinces his best friend, Mirai Trunks, to help him win back his man by pretending to be a couple. But when Trunks discovers the truth of Gohan’s ‘perfect’ relationship, he is caught in a web of indecision. To let his friend return to that situation or to try and save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. And to add to the complications, Trunks soon finds himself falling for the dark haired demi. Just what is a man to do?

I have seen a number of abusive relationships, helping put my friends back together after they were broken by the ones who claimed to love them. I’ve seen their hearts torn apart, their soul shattered, and their spirit broken. But what disturbs me the most is that I’ve seen them return to that every day. I have lost friends due to their loyalty to a man who treats them like trash. For this reason, I write this story, exploring the darker side of relationships. I know that not everyone escapes, nor do they all find the love they claim to have, but I write this for Hope, may it always stay with us.



03: Chapter 03
Running a towel around his neck, Vegeta moved into the main part of the living area at Capsule Corporation. The two boys had given him quite a work out; the two were gaining strength rapidly, especially utilizing their fusion technique. The Saiyan Prince smirked at the knowledge of the strength his race carried, even if their blood was half. The generation of half breed Saiyans were something to think about, their amazing strength that surpassed that of his full blood. Yet, there was something obviously lacking in them all.

At one point, Vegeta had merely thought to contribute the lack of the love of fight and the bloodlust that had marked his race for centuries to the fact that the only offspring he knew was Kakarott’s. The oldest brat had been so docile, yet, when angered, Vegeta had caught a true glimpse of a warrior. He had seen the lust for the fight within his hardened jade eyes during the battle with Cell and again within mystic obsidian orbs against Buu. As much as he hated to admit it, even his own brat did not contain that edge. The royal blooded Saiyan had searched, trying to find the unique characteristic that made the eldest of Kakarott’s offspring so . . . different.

Shaking his head, he worked to rid his mind of thoughts of the brat. He had disappeared two years ago, his ki disappearing into the masses of those of Earth. That unique energy signal hadn’t been felt for so long. Vegeta snorted at the half breed’s actions, unsure of whether to be slightly proud at the boy’s actions of leaving the protective wing of his banshee of a mother and dense father or annoyed at his full disappearance. The brief thought of Kakarott caused a low growl to escape his lips as he reached into the refrigerator, drawing out a bottle of water.

His fellow full blooded Saiyan, a disgrace to the race, had barely batted an eye at his son’s disappearance, never once thinking otherwise. To Vegeta, it was just like before when Goku had abandoned the demi-Saiyan to stay in the other world. Nothing had changed with the idiotic Saiyan, still negligent as ever, always thinking he would be accepted no matter what. If there was one thing Vegeta had learned, it was not to take anything for granted, not even the supposedly unconditional love of your child.

Vegeta’s thoughts were broken by the rapid and heavy knocking of the door. “Onna, get the door!” He growled at towards the blue haired genius who had just entered the room. Rolling her eyes at the Saiyan Prince’s attitude, she moved to the main entrance of Capsule Corporation, faintly wondering who would be at there door so late into the night. Pulling the heavy door open, a faint gasp escaped her lips as she took in the sight.

Before her stood a tall male, his ebony hair pasted to his head, shielding his eyes from her view. His clothes clung to his body like second skin, soaked by the heavy downpour. His pale skin had taken on a slight blue tone, displaying that he had obviously been out in the cold night for quite some time. It wasn’t until he tilted his head up, his water heavy hair moving away from his face, that she recognized who it was.

“Gohan?” She asked her voice thick with shock.

From behind her, Vegeta appeared, his narrowed obsidian eyes recognizing the boy immediately. “Brat.” He stated simply. The mask he had perfected long ago stood in place, not displaying a single emotion upon his royal brow.

Shaking from the cold, Gohan cautiously watched the woman who had been so much like a second mother to him, never once looking at the Saiyan Prince. “Hai Bulma-san.”

Pulling from her shocked state, Bulma launched herself at the soaked youth. “Gohan! Where have you been? It’s been two years! You didn’t even tell anyone where you were.” She began to scold.

Rolling his eyes at the woman’s reaction, Vegeta pulled her from the shivering and obviously shaken youth. “You’ll make him go deaf with that shrieking of yours Onna.”

A quick glare was sent in the direction of the full blooded Saiyan, the look softening as she turned back to Gohan. “Come in!” With that, she pulled him into the building, the door slamming behind her.

Once inside, Bulma fled the room, bringing back a large white towel, which she promptly draped around his neck. Leading him further into the warmth of Capsule Corporation, the two were trailed by a silently observing Saiyan Prince. In the onset of uncomfortable silence, Gohan spoke, his whispered words carrying along the current of the warm air that floated through the room. “Gomen, Bulma-san, Vegeta-Ouji. I know it’s late, I shouldn’t have disturbed you at this time.”

Bulma arm extended, her palm cuffing the back of the boy’s head with practiced strength born from living around Saiyans. Her hit, which normally wouldn’t even register to the Saiyan blood, snapped the demi-Saiyan’s head to forward, causing him to step slightly forward to prevent him from falling over. Bulma looked from her hand to the silent half-blood before looking back at her hand.

‘Either I’ve gotten stronger or Gohan . . .’ Her thought trailed off as the boy looked up, his dark eyes that once radiated warmth and joy despite the knowledge and grief they contained, were frigid. Instead of the bright pools of onyx, it was cold obsidian that greeted her, the emotions they contained indistinguishable above the grief, heartbreak and exhaustion that they radiated. Despite the negative emotions his eyes held, Bulma found herself unable to look away as she was hypnotized by the destruction that had been wreaked.

Her gaze was broken as the footsteps resounded from the hallway reached her ears. The three occupants of the room looked up as Mirai no Trunks entered the room, stopping in place as he saw Gohan for the second time that evening. “Gohan? What are you doing here?”

His focus solely upon the lavender haired bishonen, Gohan moved forward, stopping only as he face was a scant inches from that of Trunks. His voice, no more than a whisper, brushed upon the ears of the half breed from the future. “I came to see you. Can we talk somewhere a bit more private?”

***

Vegeta watched as the two silently walked out of the room, no glance spared in neither his nor Bulma’s direction. His dark eyes narrowed, his observations of the newly found demi-Saiyan playing through his mind. There were so many signs, so many clues to what the boy had been through, yet there was a lack of hate in the boy’s eyes, no blame being given towards anyone but himself. The signals were mixed, the scenes of possibility smudged, fogged by something the Prince could not understand.

As a boy, the Saiyan Prince had matured under the harsh treatment of Frieza. His mind knew the paths of abuse, each symptom recognizable in its own way. He had understood the pain Gohan had been through as he was plagued with the nightmares after the final battle with Cell. He had been the one to calm the boy down, preventing the out of control emotions from consuming him and Earth with it. He had been the one to share the knowledge of blood stained hands.

Yes, Vegeta knew Kakarott’s oldest brat very well, a relationship hidden from everyone connected to them. It had been his own battle calloused hands that had wiped the tears from the boy’s face as he blamed himself for the death of Kakarott. He had been the one to carefully wrap blood stained arms with gauze as the tormented soul silently sat on the cliff side. And it was he who had carried the boy home to his own bed after exhausting himself with the anger his body contained.

There was no reason behind his actions, merely the companionable knowledge that he was not the only Saiyan soul suffering. But now, it seemed that the comfort was gone, the battered body and tortured mind had reappeared. But this time it was different. It was no longer he that would put the pieces back together. No. The boy had grown. Their secret time together had passed. Now it was his son’s turn to be the savior. Vegeta could only hope that the boy from another dimension would be able to endure the task without doing even more damage.

With a grunt, the Saiyan Prince made his way out of the room, back to his gravity room, ready to burn the emotions he kept concealed behind his emotionless mask out of his system.

***

Lapis lazuli orbs were wide, their swirling shades of luminous blue swirling with emotions, confusion written plainly upon his face. Gohan merely looked at his companion impassively, waiting for the shock to wear off and to gain the true reaction to his request. However, beyond that mask, his own emotions churned like an ocean, his dread and fear mixing with his hope and desperate desire to have the happiness he lived in, blindly, for so long back.

Once upstairs, Gohan had hesitantly spoken to the teen that had at one point been his best friend. He had carefully spoke of the past two years, his loving relationship with Akui, helping out at the club his lover owned, leading up to the past few hours. But Gohan knew that the demi-Saiyan, who had shown him that their friendship was still there despite the mysterious absence over the two years, would explode if he knew of Akui’s infidelity. Instead, he told his friend that they had been having a few problems and were taking a break in their relationship.

On his way to Capsule Corporation, Gohan knew that many things would have to remain a secret from his friend. His desperate mind called out, knowing that this was the only way. Instead of directly asking for Trunks to help him deceive his lover with a false relationship, he would make sure that the two of them would be seen together, leaving everything to Akui’s very active imagination. He felt bad for lying to his friend, but he knew that, in the end, everything would work out. Mirai had immediately offered a room in his wing at Capsule Corp rather than sending the dark haired demi back to his mother’s house. But the lavender haired boy hadn’t expected Gohan’s request for help, nor the things he had insinuated with the deep and rich timbre of his quiet voice, words that had come out almost like a purr.

A smile decorated Trunks's face as he looked up at his best friend, quickly approaching him and wrapping his arms around Gohan in an embrace. Memories of the past, another lifetime in another timeline played upon his mind. He had forced the tone that Gohan had used in his tentative question out of his mind. Long ago, he had discovered a certain amount of lust for the quiet half Saiyan and repressed it with steel determination. Now, he could feel that resolve weaken when Gohan’s voice lowered, his eyes half lidded, promising of untold treasures. These things that were so natural to Gohan, things he had no realization as to what he was doing, had Trunks’s mind racing.

But as his best friend, Mirai no Trunks also wanted the best for his friend, for him to be the happiest he could possibly be. And he would do what he could. Ignoring the devious voice in back of his mind calling out of another motive behind his actions to help his best friend, he smiled at Gohan before tossing a pair of loose pants and a t-shirt to his still wet friend.

“Get cleaned up and then I’ll show you to your room. We can go back to your apartment and pick up your stuff tomorrow. But let’s just get some sleep for now. I have a feeling that you will have a lot of questions to answer once everyone knows you’re here.”

Gohan nodded, his morose eyes hidden by his ebony bangs. The pain of leaving his family and friends was still very present within his heart. But the love he had for Akui told him that it was for the best, anything to please his precious koibito. And it would all be better soon. Walking into the bathroom, he slowly stripped the damp clothes from his body, ignoring the mirrors that lined the walls. Instead, his head remained turned away from his mocking reflection as he pulled the last of his clothes off. Stepping into the shower, he quickly turned the pressured water as high as it could go, allowing the scalding water to burn the ever present layers of dirt and shame from his body, mind, and soul.

The tears that streamed down his ashen face blended with its native sister, the water, as it caressed his alabaster skin, trailing down his curves. Obsidian eyes were closed as he ran the soapy sponge over his body, blindly cleansing himself, never once looking at the skin he felt such hate for. Fresh lacerations on his arms opened up to the heated water, his blood adding into the mixture, turning the water pink. Yet, Gohan neither saw nor noticed any of this, his mind on another time, another place. The once upon a time fairy tale he believed himself to possess playing through his mind, all the way to the tragic end of finding he wasn’t exactly the only one Prince Charming was chasing . . . no, possessed.

He bore the marks of the possession. He bore the marks of two years, the carefully fabricated dream he held so tightly onto ripped away in seconds. A web he would carefully put back into place, whether his friend was willing to help or not.

Out on the balcony, Trunks swirled the drink in his hand, his mind on the demi-Saiyan currently in his shower. He knew there was far more to the story than what he was told. The story that had been weaved for him had been a false illusion, one he would not fall for. But as long as his best friend was happy, that was what mattered most. And he was willing to do what he could.

Taking a deep breath, Mirai no Trunks returned to his living room, back into the company of the song of shower and the sobs it attempted to hide.



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