Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

I’ve been alone with you inside my mind,
And in my dreams I’ve kissed your lips,
a thousand times.
I sometimes see you pass outside my door.

Hello,

Is it me you’re looking for?
I can see it in your eyes;
I can see it in your smile.

You’re all I’ve ever wanted,
And my arms are open wide.
”Cause you know just what to say,
And you know just what to do,
And I want to tell you so much;

I love you …

I long to see the sunlight in your hair;
And tell you time and time again
how much I care.
Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow.
Hello, ooh, I’ve just got to let you know.

‘Cause I wonder where you are,
And I wonder what you do.
Are you somewhere feeling lonely,
or is someone loving you?

Tell me how to win your heart,
For I haven’t got a clue…

But let me start by saying… (Oh)

I love you …

Hello,

Is it me you’re looking for?
‘Cause I wonder where you are,
And I wonder what you do.
Are you somewhere feeling lonely,
or is someone loving you?

Tell me how to win your heart;
I don’t even have a clue.
But let me start by saying …
Oooh, I love you.
Love

Slender fingers ran through lavender tresses, as a groan of desperate frustration filled the late night air. The time was 11:30 pm, and Trunks was completely exhausted. Recent events had taken their toll on him, and he felt as if his world was rapidly crashing down around him. Finals were rapidly approaching, and he was more stressed out then anyone in his position could possibly be. Trunks sat hunched over his pressed wood computer desk, drumming his fingers on the hard surface, and tracing the Capsule Corp logo branded into the wood. His normally vibrant azure lamps were now blood shot orbs that stared onto a blank gray screen.

The cursor… a thin black line that blinked every half second; it teased and taunted him, it mocked his painfully blank mind and in doing so, it threatened to drive away the last vestiges of sanity that remained in the Lilac-haired demi’s mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, and tried unsuccessfully to relax once more, but it was to no avail.

In addition to Vegeta’s insistence on hours upon hours of vigorous training in the family’s Time/Gravity Compression Chamber, Trunks had extensive classes on Saiya-Jin Heritage, as well as classes on Royalty and Social Etiquette. He had to deal with Bulma’s excessive grooming of him, so that one day he would become C.E.O. of Capsule Corp., This meant time with her (when she was able to steal him away from Vegeta) spent learning the business, hands on, in the lab, working around chemicals, and circuit boards. This had been the way things always were for as long as he could remember, and it might not have been so bad, if the two of them didn’t expect so much from him. However, Trunks had to excel at everything he tried his hand at, just to win the approval of his father, and though Bulma was not as hard assed about it as Vegeta seemed to be, seeing the slightest hint of disappointment in his mother’s eyes, devastated him completely. Out of the ashes of that distress, Trunks would try harder, pushing far beyond his limits, and so the cycle would continue. That was how Trunks went through High School, and to that end, Trunks now had the burden of being the Student Congress President of Orange Star High School. This meant that his grades had to be the highest in the school, to keep him as an example to all the other students. The pressure was intense, and with no way to release it, insanity loomed on the horizon.

Upon opening his eyes once more, he found the cursor once more… blinking, laughing… once more rubbing his nose in the stench of failure. It wasn’t that Trunks had “Writer’s Block”, far from it. If anything, his head was besieged by Ideas, too many things to process at once, too many things to remember, to react to, he was overwhelmed; but who could he go to? He had no one.

Closing his eyes once more, he would will the bright colors that lay behind his shut lids away. He would pray for the ideas, and images that never ended, to cease their parade. He knew it would be a futile protest, but even so, he beseeched Kami, Dende, The Kais and anyone else he could think of for relief from his tortured state. The Images, thoughts and sounds that he hears all the time continued. They drew and quartered him in so many different directions, that he could feel the pain of his body stretching, tearing, and coming apart.

Both hands cradled his sweat slicked forehead now, the strong fingers slipped backward, flowing through the thick mass of his hair and down to his scalp as he slowly drug his hands across his head. His fingertips massaged a few spots as the passed, finally landing on his shoulders. Trunks began a gentle kneading motion around his neck to let some of the tension go, and though it felt good, it didn’t help in the way he’s hoped it would.

With his elbows on the desk, Trunks cradles his head, and fell into the pool of thoughts that kept him awake at night, hoping to find an answer that would give him the respite that he so urgently needed. After and indeterminate amount of time passes, Trunks let out a dull groan. Suddenly he felt his shoulder length hair gently pulled, moved to one side, as warm air caressed his neck on the left side and down his shoulder. A long for, familiar and welcomed scent filled the lilac haired demi’s nostrils, and he breathed deeply. A gentile smile began at the corners of his mouth and slowly spread across his mouth, forcing his lips, which had been set in a straight line to curl upwardly as a single note of happiness filled him. His stomach quivered, as butterflies filled it. Their origins unknown, and at that particular moment, not particularly cared about. A pair of firm hands found either side of him, and began massaging the teen’s shoulders. A husky voice spoke in a masculine, yet hushed tone that was one octave above a seductive whispered growl, as the sent drew neared to Trunks’ nose…

“Hello”

Several beads of sweat rolled down Trunks’ neck, and pooled on his chest, soaking through the cotton fabric of the demi’s tee-shirt. This caused a mixing of the two strongest scents in the room; scents that were highlighted by the subtle fragrance of cherry blossoms outside, and mint in the air from Trunks’ relaxation candles (a gift from Goku for his 15th birthday) mingled together, making the teen purr with a contentment that just moments before would not have been possible. The lavender-haired demi flexed his pecs as he heard a soft, seductive growl emanate from the owner of the massive, massaging hand, he turned his neck to he side and moaned in an barely audible tone as the other’s lips brushed his earlobe, and the earring that hung from it. (An adornment that Vegeta absolutely HATED.) This caused the drops of sweat that has not been absorbed by the cotton to collide into each other, and travel down to his navel, creating a pool of moisture in his belly button.

Trunks raised his right hand from its resting place, on his thigh; where it had been resting ever since the lustful man behind him entered the room. Trunks’ hand landed on the side of the face. His fingers danced along the other’s skin, they traced the outline of the jaw, pulling him closer to him. The other’s lips were firm, but at the same time, so soft. The sensation of each kiss washed over him like gentle rain in the wilderness. Suddenly Trunks felt the dull tickle of teeth, oh – so – gently nibbling on his right earlobe. The transition was quick. As Trunks purred in the throes of satisfaction, the other continued to nibble, and tug.

Trunks kept his eyes shut for the time being. He had enough to worry about, just keeping his breath at a normal pace. Trunks pulled him down further. He wanted to touch the lover that arrived to set him free from the tedious tasks that awaited him upon his return form bliss. Each movement that the other made elicited a moan of intense pleasure in response from the seated Demi. Heavy hands caressed his breast, through the thin, soaked fabric of the worn cotton tee. Each action was an invitation to the other. Trunks wanted the other to go further, to drag his tongue over those sensitive areas of his neck. Those fingers that caressed Trunks’ pec, flicked, and tightened around the teen’s nipple, twisting it, rolling it between rough, calloused fingertips.

Trunks’ mouth snapped open in response to the pleasure, and pain that rushed over him. A slow hiss of satisfied anticipation seeped into the air. The person behind him knelt, getting on his knees, as he continued to trail his lips along Trunks’ neck. Trunks smiled warmly and moved slightly, closer, in an attempt to capture the other’s lips. He wanted to own the tongue that caressed his flesh… the tongue that excited him so completely. Suddenly Trunks was aware of those hands, sliding up and down on his bare flesh. Somehow his Tee-shirt had found hit was around his neck, and the hands continued to run the length of the chiseled teen’s torso, moving ever lower to his waist band. Trunks’ breathing picked up pace as need filled his voice, an electric charge zoomed through his body when the other’s hands moved over the thin smattering of hair that began at the base of his navel, and disappeared into his pajama pants, which had grown tight around him, the noticeable tent throbbed with each beat id his heart which caused a large wet spot to form at its highest point. Finally when the other’s hand slid beneath the waist of his Joe Boxer bottoms, Trunks’ breath hitched. Fingers caressed, encircled, and finally tightened around the turgid shaft. With gentle flicks of his wrists the other began to slowly manipulate the teen’s shaft.

Trunks let loose a guttural sounding growl as pleasure entered his every pore. The growl lengthened until it had become a single word.

“Gohan…”

In that instant, Trunks turned. The torture was unbearable. He had to look into those eyes; he had to see Gohan’s face, to kiss him.

Trunks’ eyes widened, as disappointment slammed him hard between the eyes. He found no one there and that shock… The shock sent chills down his spine. His eyes filled with tears that rolled down his cheeks rapidly. He wiped his eyes and turned back to the monitor. The light in his room was dim, and so the bright glow of the luminescent screen, amplified through his tears stung like the morning sun. This added to the creepy, empty feeling that had suddenly taken hold of him. Now the pain he felt began once more, radiated from its point of origin behind his eyes, to every part of his skull.

He pushed himself away from the desk and stood, He stretched as tired to shake off what had to be nothing more than the fantasy of an overcharged mind. Looking down at the obscene tent in his pants, he counted himself lucky that he didn’t have to share his room with anyone. He was also glad that he was on the opposite end of the hall, away from his parents, and Bura’s room. At this late hour, it was likely that he was the only one still awake. That was a good thing. It made the chance of anyone finding out about his secret desires was minimal to say the least. God help him if his longings became known. He couldn’t handle the consequences.

On the other hand, his constant denial, of his true feelings, the way he desperately tried to ignore the feelings that kept him awake at night, the feelings, he kept them bottled up, like so much wine in the cellar wasn’t doing anything for him, but distracting him from the other things in his life. Maybe he needed that distraction, maybe the fantasy was something that he needed to keep his sanity from the other things that he was responsible for. Maybe…Maybe these flights of fancy were the cause of unhappiness… who knew?

Madness. Deep down in Trunks’ heart, he knew it was all madness, yes somewhere deep in his heart. Down in the furthest reaches of his soul he didn’t care. A fire burned within him, a thirst, never sated, smoldered within his core. He stood at opposite ends of himself, The situation, pulled apart just like he had been earlier; on display for him to evaluate, though, truth be told he didn’t care what the results were, for he had a responsibility that far exceeded his needs.

Responsibility that was a good enough reason not to follow his heart wasn’t it? Besides, there was no guarantee that his desires were reciprocated. Fear overruled his impulses, always keeping on step ahead. Each time he tried to speak the truth, he found himself standing alone in the void; a dark realm where only the voices of doubt held sway. Each voice spoke of a different reason why a relationship between Gohan and him would be a bad idea. Each scenario was another disaster that should be avoided at all costs. The first was the age difference. There was approximately 17 years that separated the two. Add to that, the fact that Trunks was still a 17 year old high school student, and you have “jailbait” written all over the entire situation. It didn’t matter whether or not age or time affected the lives of Saiya-Jins. Whether they were full-blooded Saiya-Jins or not; Earth society would never accept it. Even so, Trunks was less than a year from his Eighteenth birthday, the difference in age would be less of a problem then, and if they were truly meant for each other… He sighed, unsure if it really could work…

Even if it did, the second obstacle was harder to escape. Vegeta, Proud monarch of the remaining Saiya-Jin people… would never accept that both of his children were gay. Bura was only 10, yet her attraction to females was quite obvious; and while Bulma seemed to take it in stride, having had more than her fair share of same sex romantic trysts in between waiting for Mr. Right… Vegeta seemed to be Heartbroken, angered, and destroyed by the whole thing. Many late nights would find him in the training chamber ranting about the death of their once noble race. How the once proud Saiya-Jin people, were doomed to die out. Rants of how they were fading into the obscurity of time, and how history would erase their entire existence echoed through Trunks’ mind, even now. These thoughts were drummed into him, even before his sister came along, and after the whole Paragus /New Bejiita-sei affair, the sense of responsibility to keep the blood line going, became Vegeta’s mantra. Trunks couldn’t escape it, and so his feelings only put knots in his stomach each time another male aroused his interest. The guilt was unbearable.

The third problem was the matter of disappointment, and Vegeta’s fucked up sense of pride. It was a well known fact, that Vegeta’s greatest Rival was Goku. Though the King never felt it should have been that way. He didn’t regard Kakarot’s spawn as true members of the Saiya-Jin race, more like its comic relief. Goku’s blood line was usually viewed as the “Trash” of a proud people. That view sharpened in these last two years because of Goku’s actions. Vegeta felt the man a weak willed coward, and the thought of His son, the Crowned Prince of the Saiya-Jins and the son of that “Weak Minded Fourth Class Buffoon” polluting such a “Proud Royal Lineage” (A phrase that Trunks Hated with a passion) would cause a painful rift with his father. It would be seen as a betrayal, and no matter what kind of ass Vegeta was to him, Trunks could not see that happening. At least he didn’t want it to. Even if Trunks could navigate through all of those obstacles, just on the sheer force of his stubborn will, two things would still stand in their way. They were both one person, the man that trunks loved, Son Gohan himself. This was the problem that kept trunks immobile, impotent to act on his own behalf. This was the thing that consumed his thoughts, when nothing else could get in, and once again it stunk of fear. A scent that Trunks hated, but which leaked from each pore, with each breath he took Truly Trunks was in love with a phantom, the soul less shell of a man who had lost everything good in his life. The Gohan that had complete control over Trunks’ emotions was a hollow shell of the man he once was, in a time that Trunks did not know, and in a place he would never see. This Gohan was from a future where the world came crashing to an end and the hands of a demon; a demon Named Shin Akuma. This hell spawn surfaced, and challenged every fighter he could. He used the power called the “Satsui No Hadou” (Murderous Intent) to slaughter each of Earth’s most powerful fighters, one y one, doing more damage in one day, than Frieza, Cell, Broly and Buu combined. The Earth that this Gohan knew, had become a lifeless wasteland in a few short days, and Gohan had been powerless to stop it. Eventually Gohan took Akuma’s life in battle, but his reward was a life of solitude, living his remaining days in isolation, on a dead planet. The despair was enough to drive anyone the heir death, however, at the last moment, the three sisters of fate took pity on him, and brought him to this world, one whose destiny was not to fall at the hands of some one so evil. This Gohan had been given a second chance to live life with those he held so dear. However, through this, there was sadness. A scar ran down the length of his face, and through his eye. This reminder of his past life always left him with a bit of uncontrolled sadness that Trunks could feel, stabbing at him like a dagger through the heart. The teen often wondered if anyone else felt it as he did, he often wondered if one could ever recover from such a thing. Trunks wanted to reach out and touch him, to ease that pain. Trunks often fantasized that he could lift that cursed scar, to expunge the memory, and hold Gohan to him, to keep him forever, to break the chains of a past that only served to bring more pain to some one he cared for so deeply. Trunks often wondered if the power of the heart… HIS heart could do that. Of course, it didn’t help matters that he was in love with an alternate version of one of his closet friends. It certainly didn’t help that in the year he’d known Mirai Gohan that the present day Gohan hung out with him more, because Videl had fallen for the older model. Matters only grew worse when Goten figured out that Trunks had a thing for some one, and assumed it was him.

Trunks was living a lie, and when he looked into a mirror, he could no longer see himself. He could only see what others expected him to be, and this scared him… But who could he turn to? No one.

Even so, the growing obsession continued. As the days passed Trunks only felt comfortable, truly like himself when he was around the older Gohan, and invented excuses to be near him – even if it meant inventing reasons to be around them, like babysitting their kids Pan, and Rai. Even now as he paced in his room he though of the Elder Gohan. As he did so, his resentment and Jealously of Videl oozed into his consciousness. She had them both wrapped around her spoiled Rich girl fingers. She was never completely faithful to either of them, and fact that she gave them something he could not tore him apart inside. It killed him to know that some Saiya-Jin Males (Like Goku, and Goten) could give birth, and some couldn’t he huffed, He couldn’t’ even grow a tail. Gohan would be a fool to want him, and he was a bigger fool for loving someone, not accessible to him. Hiding his true feelings and desires was an excruciating full time job, now more than ever as Mirai Gohan had recently become the assistant principal of Orange Star High School. Now, more than ever the younger demi berated, and admonished himself for this foolish dreams he had.

“Pure genius Einstein… Falling in love with a straight man from outside your time line… when will you learn? No matter what you do, you are the Crown Prince… your happiness means nothing!”

Trunks continued to admonish himself until Cruel Reality had finally set in. the crest fallen youth heaved another in a long list of heavy sighs and stopped pacing. He looked around his room quizzically. He had never noticed how lifeless and sterile it seemed. Oh sure, It had posters, and other things on the walls, the paint and wallpaper were nice, home like tones. Inventions, weapons (that his father insisted on him training with, including the sword Tapion had given him when he was a child) Photographs of family and friends, and the souvenirs from past battles or accomplishments lined the walls, and dressers of the room. No, what made this room so sterile to Trunks was the lack of a companion to share his bed with, and the nights of cold loneliness that he felt each time he climbed between the sheets. Gohan had stayed in this room one night eighteen months ago, and so help him, Trunks felt that, that moment was the most alive his room had ever been or ever would be again. Trunks couldn’t stand it any longer; he had to get out, out of that room where the intense loneliness was closing in on him manipulating his thoughts, tormenting him. If he wasn’t there in that room, maybe he could escape it for a while, or that was the lie he told himself to make his heart stop pounding so hard and fast in his chest. His stomach growled, and although he wasn’t hungry, he decided to force himself to eat something anyway. He would allow food to take this burden off his tortured mind. The walk down stairs was short, uneventful and effortless. Once in the kitchen, Trunks had now problem locating the implements needed to make himself a sandwich. He opened the bread box and grimaced at what he found there. Pulling a few slices from its depths, the Demi let out an aggravated sigh. Oatmeal bread… He reached above his head and pulled down a plate whist shaking his head softly.

“Mom is on the health kick again”

Trunks mused as he walked over to the refrigerator. He would open the door to find the mayonnaise He would assemble lettuce the meat and cheese together, topping off his creation with a couple of plum tomatoes and some pickles. He would then skewer the thing with an over sized tooth pick, and cut the crust off the sandwich, ending with a bag of chips or something. I wasn’t the sinner that Bulma made, but he was eating something, and after all, what she didn’t know couldn’t get him lectured.

As Trunks stood bent over in the refrigerator, looking for Pickles, he swayed his hips from side to side. He casually hummed a tune, to drown out the voices of doubt in his mind, in hopes of filling it with something else. The lavender haired Demi didn’t feel the presence behind him until it was too late. Those same hands that brought him such ecstasy in his bedroom had returned for an encore, The Gripped his hips and pulled him close, Trunks could feel the hard length pressing against his backside. The groan of satisfaction behind him was enough to make the teen blush with a nervous smile. The Band of his Pajama bottoms was stretched, and slowly skinned down, exposing his tanned backside to the open air. This was done in a seductive, yet teasing manner. Once the obstruction had been sufficiently moved out of the way, Trunks felt a strong hand on the back of his neck, massaging it, caressing it, and both the Ki behind him, and the growling intensified.

“You think too much”

Trunks closed his eyes and growled back, but as the fan of the refrigerator began to spin, the Teen realized where he was, and began to panic. Each time he bucked, or tried to remove his head from the confines of the fridge, he was punished. And his head pushed back inside. Stern slaps to his buttocks were having a desired effect, and his tan skin grew warm and red from the attention. Each disobedient or rebellious act was met with another slap, and after each slap, a gently stroking would occur, to sooth the hurt area. This was done until Trunks was moaning in a combination of pleasure, pain, and lust for more. His backside almost glowed in the darkness, and was warm to the touch. After a time, the teen actively wanted more; his bucking grew more intense as he provoked more intense lashing,

There came a point where Trunks’ raw, exposed but cheeks were pried apart, and a warm wetness tickled the sensitive nerve endings of his rosebud. The soft, yet firm movements of a highly skilled tongue were maddening. Trunks’ buckeye spasmmed, opening and clenching, each time that warm sensation was reintroduced to the area. After each stroke, cold air was blown into his begging spot, and soon the eager boy was in orbit. Soon the young man felt the sensation of that persistent wet tongue pushing past the minimal resistance offered. He shuddered as a thick and calloused finger did the same to massage his walls. Trunks grabbed on to anything solid in the fridge as he pushed back on the penetrator The teen’s muffled moans of gratification seemed to entertain the one driving him over the edge. And as the warmth of desire spread throughout Trunks’ body, it was clear, the teen could not last too much longer in this way…

“Boy, Why are you sleeping IN the refrigerator?!”

Trunks jerked his head from the fridge, and looked around. His eyes came to focus on his Father, who stood in the Kitchen doorway with a confused and slightly exasperated look on his face. Vegeta stood there for a moment, watching his son watching his son with the most puzzled of looks and then he shook his head. The elder Saiyan Walked over, and grabbed a glass. Upon filling it with water he turned to leave, as he did so, he shook his head some more.

“Buffoon, you know what? I don’t even care, just clean this mess and go back to bed.”

Vegeta had seen far stranger things than this, and he was not going to rack his brain with the idiosyncrasies of his son, especially not at 3 am.

After a while, the kitchen returned to its previous state of dark and quiet. Trunks sat on the floor in front of the refrigerator, his knees pressed to his chest, and his forearms folded, covering them. His head was laid over his folded arms and he kept his eyes closed. After a few moments, the embarrassment wore off, and the redness faded from his face. His breathing returned to normal as he tried to comprehend why these hallucinations were growing more and more real. Was he a nut? Did they have poltergeist? He stood and resumed making his sandwich, even though he’s lost his appetite. What was he to do at a time like this was there any help for him… he just didn’t know. Once his heart rate had returned to normal, and the dryness in his throat cleared, Trunks took a bite out of the sandwich he no longer desired, and with plate in hand, he made his way back to his room.

Trunks arrived in front of his room a few moments later, still rolling the mass of meat and cheese around in his mouth. He turned his back to push the door open, turning again once he was inside. Trunks set the plate down on the edge of his desk and tilted a can of Pepsi to his head, as the taste of cola surrounded his taste buds; Trunks became aware of the scent of his unfulfilled arousal that lingered in the room. He swallowed, and walked over to the window, opening it wider, to allow some fresh air to dilute the scent the teen turned his attention back to the Computer desk, and his azure orbs focused on the computer, something was not right, not right at all. He swallowed the next mouthful of Cola he had taken. This resulted in a violent coughing fit, as the liquid went down his air pipe, instead if his esophagus, he fell to his knees, eyes watering as he struggled for air. He rubbed his stinging eyes… Could… could it be true, or was it just be another figment of his tortured and lust driven imagination. A small video of Mirai Gohan showering played in a tiny window, superimposed over text that had appeared on the computer’s screen in his absence. The teen panicked, as each word had traveled through his mind at some point of each day for a long time now. He dropped the half-full cola can, its contents spilled onto the floor, soaking into the carpet. His eyes grew tiny, as he stared at the screen in disbelief. He shook his head as he touched the screen. Trunks mouthed the words as he read… a look of fear and confusion on his face, and he wondered how these words appeared, and who put them there

“Dear Gohan-Dono,

I know I shouldn’t’ be writing this, I know It is wrong to trouble your already besieged mind with the desires of a teenage loser. I know that the feelings I have are misplaced… yet I don’t care. I’m losing what’s left of my mind, and you’re the cause… I can’t eat, nor can I sleep. My lack of focus is a direct result of my longing for you. I know of no other way to put it. I want no one, but you… without you I feel incomplete, a deep void exists in my soul, and deep inside my being, I know that you are the only one that can fill it. I’ve been alone with you inside my mind… and that time with you makes it easier to face the world”

Trunks tore his eyes away from the screen. Some noise outside his window startled him. He pressed the button to click off the monitor, but it would not power down. He panicked because he though some one might have been watching him from the window. Could some one have been reading over his shoulder?

Suddenly he could hear the voice again as the warm air and vibrations brushed past his ear. He shuddered when he felt the strong arms enveloped him in a deep, hard hug… The other’s purring made the Teen shiver.

“Is it me you’re looking for?”

Trunks breathed deeply, and heaved a heavy sigh. He desperately wanted to melt into the embrace; to let it mold him into a new person. Trunks longed to feel the crush of those vice-like biceps around his smaller frame; he wanted to experience the feeling of warmth and security that being pulled and pressed into that massive chest would bring him. It brought a fresh wave of tears to his eyes. Trunks broke away from it shaking his head. He had to clear the images from his mind. He knew he had to be losing the fragile grip on his faculties; reality could not be this painful. No, this was certainly a dream. That embrace, those arms that scent, those words… Damn it, why couldn’t he awaken, why couldn’t he just open his eyes and find out what was true, instead of it being like all the times before? He couldn’t see the line between fantasy, and reality. Like all the times that Gohan had made passionate, ever lasting love to him, only to disappear when the morning lights rose over the horizon. Lies! Merely fantasies constructed to keep him going through the endless days. Something to paw off to when his need to release the pressure became too great, but now… now the fantasies had taken over, become stronger, real… or was he Just a nut job? These questions haunted him through every waking moment of his life, with no answers to guide him through the storm.

Trunks moved toward the sound that had first drawn his attention from the monitor. It felt wrong to do so, he wanted to stay in the embrace, but he knew that since it wasn’t real, he had to move on. Trunks walked to the window sill and sat on the cold surface. He stared out the window for a long while, he found himself tracing his finger down the glass, following the paths of several rain drops as they clung to the glass and rolled to the window’s base. It suddenly occurred to him that he had opened the window a while ago, but as he sat there… it was clearly closed. Another thing that didn’t make much sense was the presence of rain at all. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky; there wasn’t the slightest crack of thunder, or flash of lightening… so how, why was it raining so hard? Trunks shook his head a little le as he pondered this.

The mysteries of this night continued, if there was sense to be made of the strange things going on around teen, then it was lost on him. Time passed, and Trunks found himself hugging his knees once more while sitting in the window sill. The same pale luminescence created by the small desk lamp, combined with the computer’s monitor kept the room bathed in an odd bluish glow.

Trunks kept his attention fixed on a street lamp, about half a block away from his home. He marveled at the way the wet glass distorted the light if he looked at it in a certain manner. Tilting his head to the left, would show a blurred “fish-eyed” type of effect; while adjusting his body to the right, split the light into three. He played this game for a while not really sure why he was doing it; all he knew was that it was a fun thing to do, and it calmed him … so he continued. Trunks studied the raindrops, he strained for a bit, using his mind to focus his attention on individual raindrops; he took pleasure in imagining he was one of them, falling in front of the light, being filled by it. He watched from both sides of his mind, he was both, the raindrop, and the watcher.

His thoughts wandered, and suddenly as the raindrop, he fell into an out stretched hand. The light inside him exploded as he fell into the outstretched surface. The precious Jewel that the watched had been watching had been fragmented. For a brief instant, that single drop splashed upward, forming a crown; the light from the street lamp shined through the gaps through the outstretched fingers, and tiny prisms of light shown through the water crowns tips, before the water returned to an inactive state. This happened over, and over again as Trunks watched in stunned silence. Azure eyes locked on to the outstretched hand, and roamed over the form that belonged to. Trunks studied a figure that stood in shadow, under a streetlight, leaning against a telephone booth. Blinking did nothing to dispel the image that seemed to magically appear from nothing, nor did wishing it away.

The other Streetlights began to flicker, stutter and one by one extinguish themselves, until the figure standing on the corner was the only thing in the outside world bathed in light. Even so, the light kept the Figure in shadow, not that it mattered; Trunks could identify that Ki signature anywhere. It was so subtle, yet powerful, and that Mystic power that exploded form the other swallowed him. The power seemed to travel straight into him, making Trunks feel as though Gohan was truly inside him; a part of him, a part that the teen would surely perish without. Trunks was mesmerized by that sensation. Trunks’ next series of moves seemed to be guided by that force. The Demi’s moves were controlled, almost robotic in nature, and as he watched himself move across the floor, a sweeping wave of terror slowly rose along the track that his soda had taken a while ago. This sudden wave of fear, of losing himself, did not arrive because he feared the power that now guided his every action and controlled his every breath. The fear came when he instantly realized that he liked it!

Trunks’ first act under this “force,” was to open the window. This allowed the refreshing scent of the rain into the room. In addition, it cooled the rising heat that had broken out all over the teen’s body. Next, as Trunks stood in front of the open window, he grabbed the collar of his tee-shirt. His conscious, nagging mind screamed at him, begged, and pleaded with him to stop his actions; however, the connection between Trunks’ analytical mind, and his body was short circuited (at least for the time being) That Mystic force suggested that he tear the shirt from his back, lest it get wet, and soak him through, and Trunks complied. The muffled sound of ripping cotton sounded like thunderous applause over the gentle pitter patter of rain drops on pavement. All while the obsidian eyes of the elder Demi watched from the street below. Trunks ran his hands over his now exposed body, and yet they did not feel like his own hands. , they felt more experienced… they groped, pinched and grabbed at places that sent shivers through his entire existence, not just his body. Reason be dammed, he had been in this position many times before, and each time it was better than that last. He wanted Gohan to come to him… then, at that moment. He could feel the kisses as the started, hesitant at first, but growing in passion and ferocity, as he was devoured…. Trunks welcomed this, if only to put an end to the pain of loneliness, if only to end the suffering that his “fake” life brought him, with its phony smiles, and responsibilities that he never requested; the suffering that gnawed at every part of him with its mendacity. In this moment, even if it was a figment of his imagination, he felt like more of a real person, than in any moment in his normal existence… he gasped as he felt a bit of pressure on his right nipple… oh god, such sweet pressure!

“RING!”

Trunks turned white as snow, his head slowly tilted and his eyes fell on the phone. The teen’s mouth dropped open.

“RING!!”

The phone’s ringing echoed like the bells of Notre Dame, and Trunks felt that he was cast in the role of Quasimodo. Lost in the racket that the phone’s ringing created, Trunks feared he might be deaf, for instead of hearing the ringing, Trunks FELT it each sound wave passed through him, much the same way that A Ki blast would. Surely the whole household was awake now; He could just hear the agitation in Bulma’s voice. And he could almost smell the smoldering plastic as Vegeta would surely blast the thing to hell and back. (Alarm clocks did not have much of a life span in the Brief’s home.) Yet the ringing continued… Trunks dived to stop it before another “louder than normal” round of ringing began.

“RI…”

Suddenly, the panicking teen launched into a baseball style dive, in an attempt to stop the phone’s howl before someone destroyed it. . He lifted it from its cradle and placed the ice cold receiver to his ear. For a moment, he couldn’t speak; his breathing was far too heavy. On the other end he heard nothing but eerie silence, silence that scared him. Even if it was the person he thought it was… this was…

Trunks’ voice trembled as he forced himself to speak. His voice was dry, and held the taste of medicated cotton balls. He swallowed nervously a couple of times as the words finally formed in his mind but before he could bring them out, the other party spoke first.

“Why not start by saying ‘Aishiteru?'”

The teen’s face flushed as he fumbled for the wards…

“Why… Who are you? How dare you C- Call at nearly 4 am in the morning!”

“You are avoiding the Truth? Why ask who I am… when you deny who you are?”

“Y- Yo- You Don’t -”

“I understand all too well…. Those are your words ore on that screen….”

Trunks re-approached the window to find the figure gone, as well as the rain; as if neither ever existed. All evidence of a storm had simply vanished, and all that remained of the person Trunks believed to be Gohan was a manhole cover producing bilious amounts of steam. In that instant a buzz-saw ripped through Trunks’ head. The teen ripped the phone from his ear, and looked down at it. the line had gone dead the receiver began to sizzle in Trunks’ hand and he dropped it on the floor, watching it fall to the floor, next to the can where he had dropped his soda hours ago, The teen’s eyes widened as he inspected the eggshell white carpet; only to find the large stain that should have rightfully been there as a result of dropping a half full can of cola on the floor, was missing. In a moment of anger, desperation, and confusion, trunks tore the phone cord from the wall. He was breathing heavily again, and questioning his eyes, when he raised his gaze to his computer’s monitor once more. If the Teen had any shocks left this would have been the time he used them up. Tears slipped from his eyes as he fell to his knees. What stared back at him was a written of his deepest, and most hidden desires, fro Mirai Gohan. Text that surely had not been then hours before stared back at him. Who… Just who was doing this to him… and why? Trunks had to know… It was torture… dirty, mean-spirited torture… and it was te ring him apart.

“Gohan… I am losing my mind. It’s been a year since YOU arrived and tore my life apart, you presence, turning everything I thought I knew on its ear. You came here and changed me, but you don’t even know, you fail to realize, and I still cannot find the courage to speak my thoughts, or feelings to you. Yet, I can’t say why. Part of me says it’s wrong to feel this way. Father has many reasons to disapprove, but I can’t help myself I care not… You are all I desire.

I sit here each night and think of you. You consume my every thought and yet you are… so far from my reach. I grow weary of waking up to an empty bed, ans the phantom of you scent. I need you. How I long to walk up to you and embrace you; just to be one with your scent. How I wish I could feel the strength of your arms surrounding me. I’d give anything for that humble joy to feeling his lips pressed to mine; I’d give anything for you to end the crushing loneliness that consumes my being. I pray that you save me… that I can make happy, that I can erase the scars of your past. I want to ease the pain in your soul. The pain I see each time you look into my eyes… and maybe give a voice to my own. I… just I just… I haven’t got a clue. I just want you to know me. Please… let me start by saying…

I love you.

T.B”

Trunks’ Ki flared as he turned away from the screen. Moments later and without warning the computer’s monitor burst into amber colored flames, exploding with a thunderous roar as Trunks’ body began to burn with rage. His hair lengthened, as the fires of his Ki rose from his toes and engulfed his head, His hair flickered between its natural lavender, a sunshine golden, and a deep blood red. A huge updraft made the fabric of his Joe Boxer Pajama bottoms flutter as every muscle in his body tensed. He let out a blood curdling scream as he grabbed the sides of his head and began bashing it into the floor. His screams and sobs should have woken awakened the dead, and yet no one came to his aid. It was almost as if he were trapped in within a bad silent film, where the only sounds that could be heard were the soft, dramatic music, and the hum of the projector. Only he heard everything, every heart beat, ever breath, every bead of sweat that fell from his brow, and on to the carpet.

What was real? What was wishful thinking? What was the point? It couldn’t be a dream, no… A person is not supposed to feel pain in a dream, are they…? Was this a haunting? Why didn’t anything make sense? He screamed… WHY DOESN’T ANYTHING MAKE SENSE?!?

The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, and Trunks ran to the bathroom he threw the door open and threw up into the sink, slumping back and shivering.

Moments later, his Pajama pants were in a heap on the floor, and Trunks was under the showers artic cold spray.

Trunks’ sobs were swallowed by the sound of water roaring from the shower’s nozzle, the flicking transformation he had experienced had subsided, leaving him weak, and bewildered. The teen was confused, agitated, and he felt so very alone. There was a coldness inside of him that was totally unrelated to the water that washed over him, and he desired nothing more, than for this sick joke to end.

Flashbacks of past battles played in his mind. All he had been through, Deathstrike’s Invasion, The Buu incident, and several other battles made him a stronger fighter, even though he was so damn popular as Bulma’s whiz kid son, and Student Congress President, and any of the myriad of other things he had to his credit, nothing changed the pit of emptiness that sat at the base of his very core. He always felt like an outsider, looking in. He felt that he was involved with everything, yet not a part of it. When he looked into the mirror, he often saw nothing there, Sometimes he felt as if he didn’t belong there at all, as if he wasn’t real. Nasshingu… Nothing.

No one who truly understood him; everyone only saw the things they wanted from him, yet on one saw what he really was… The biggest one of them all… Trunks himself did not know who he really was. Until this older Gohan arrived… He had not been able to look on one person and find that special thing that made him feel as if he belonged.

Sure, He grew up with Goten, and the present day Gohan was like a big brother, and friend, the other Z fighters, never mistreated him… but… but something felt false about it all, and Trunks had come to realize that it was HIM that was the problem.

The pain that went with each passing day he wandered aimlessly through life was maddening. Having no one to talk to made it all worse, but who could he really go to? His father would call him a fool and probably blast him into the next year. His mother, would try to cheer him up by building something for him, everyone else thought training was the answer. It was times like this when Trunks could understand the kinds of feelings that drove Goku to his death.

Too many conflicting voices screamed in his head, He wanted to be what everyone wanted him to be, but could he do it at the cost of his own happiness, did he even deserve to be happy? After all, what was happiness anyway?”

His tears flowed at an increasing rate as the glitter of glass caught his attention. Trunks looked to the bathroom mirror, He wasn’t sure how, or why but it was in pieces, he didn’t remember breaking it, but then didn’t matter. He didn’t remember a lot of things. His eyes locked on a single shard of the reflective glass. It seemed to call to him. The shard glittered in the sparse light of the bathroom, and it appeared to pulse as Trunks reached for it. Was it…was it calling his name? Trunks reached for it with trembling hands. Part of his mind screamed not to do it, but the allure of the sharp object called to him in a voice that the demi could not resist.

“Goku… was this how it was for you too?”

The emotions that he’d tried so hard to suppress for so long seemed to overpower him as his dripping fingers closed around the pointed, sharp object In that instant he could remember that way Goku looked in the tub full of bath water… How his blood dripped off his fingertips and onto the tiles. Trunks remembered how it seeped into the grout, and the looks of peace on the fighter’s face. He remembered how he and Goku’s two sons found the most powerful fighter in the universe that day.

It had taken a long time for those images to leave his mind. And even when they were gone, they were never really far from his mind. Trunks remembered that instead of shock he felt… like Goku had released himself from som diabolical trap… The image of the expired Warrior, burned itself into his mind, and he never forgot it. Here, now in this shower… that image was as alive now as it was then. Now it was his turn, his time for release. The shining reflective mirror shard bit into his fingers, and thick, crimson fluid mingled with the water… the pain was exquisite.

Trunks looked down at his arms, and legs, He traced the jagged edge along the lines he found there. Would tonight be the final time? He had done this before. It was a way to lessen the pressure, when things got too big for him to handle. He always covered the scars or explained them away by lying; blaming the training he was doing for their appearance and visibility, no one questioned it. Would tonight be the time when he would no longer need excuses?

Drawing the “Blade” across his flesh held and intensely erotic feeling for him, this feeling intensified as he felt the blood trickled from several areas. In each new spot, allowed the make shift knife to bite deeper, and drink more heavily, yet, the sadness did not lessen as it had in times past. All the hesitation was gone; Trunks felt he had nothing to keep him bound to this world His azure irises flickered as he took an even tighter hold on the glass, now the pain was an angry beast, and his maleness reacted to its fire,, as his right hand throbbed crimson slowly covered the reflective surface as Trunks looked down at his exposed left wrist. Above him water continued to fall in sheets pelting him in the top of the head with droplets that seemed far heavier than they should have been, as some of the water slid down his face and into his mouth, Trunks could no help but marvel ant how salty the water tasted. He flexed his wrist and the obedient arteries, tendon, and veins flexed and presented themselves along with his muscle. His sadness and sorrow turned into anger as he decided to make a clean break from the shackles of this existence, Anger for all begat more pain, pain begat fear. The series of voices in his head got louder and stronger until he lowered the glass shard, and applied the first bit of pressure His Ki flared a bit as he began to press the glass deeper into his flesh. A fine mist of blood sprayed upward as he broke the skin. Trunks sighed to himself as hid closed his eyes, once the “blade” had bitten him deeply enough, all that was left to do was drag it along, All that was left to do was take an active role in severing his bonds to a world that would go on without him, Trunks made his final peace with himself and the world in which he felt like an outsider….

“Peace… finally Peace…”

In that instant, he felt a pair of strong hands surround his, a pair of strong arms pulling his back, the hands crabbed the blade, and pried it away from the determined Teen. That familiar voice growled in his ear.

“TORANKSU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING???!!!”

The Young Demi’s eyes snapped open as he struggled against the resistance, but the voice continued, but now it was pleading, a great deal of fear packed into each syllable..

“Toranksu, please… please do not do this foolish thing. Toranksu… you cannot take this back once you are through,”

The arms surrounded him holding him close. The voice plead its case in Trunks’ ear…

“Please… Please Don’s leave me this way. I can’t lose you like this, not again. I have been trying to save you… for so long… Please Koi… promise me… you won’t do this.”

Trunks lost his grip on the glass, confused by Gohan’s words, but as the shard clattered to the shower floor and the water washed the blood away, Trunks could easily see what the other meant. The act of Trunks’ suicide and the devastating aftermath played out, right before the teen’s eyes. the world, in which he felt so alone, mourned his loss, none more than the very man who held him in his arms. Trunks blinked once more, and the shard of glass cracked, and broke into thousands of pieces, then it melted, only to flow effortlessly down the drain. Suddenly, trunks turned to the face that had been haunting him all night, the face of the man he longed for. He was face to face him, Gohan… with Gohan. His Azure orbs sparkled, despite the red that surrounded the and before he could blink, before he could even react, Gohan had seized the teen’s lips in a passionate kiss. Trunks’ mouth opened, and Gohan slipped his tongue inside; only to find that Trunks was the more aggressive kisser. After a few moments of playfully aggressive kissing, Gohan bit trunk’s lip, and growled softly, while moving his hands down the younger demi’s back. Gohan broke the kiss and began to bite, and nibble along Trunks’ earlobe, and neck. The bathroom filled with the sounds of passion as the two men ground against each other’s bare, wet bodies Gohan stopped for a moment, after pushing Trunks the shower wall, and looked at him, He took a moment to bush the lavender locks from the teen’s perfect face. He ran his hands over Trunks’ chest, stopping to pay special attention to the younger man’s nipples, flicking them until they grew to the size of erasers, Gohan’s mouth then latched onto one and Trunks purred form the sensation.

The driven teenager grabbed his lovers head, and pulled it back up so that they could kiss once more. Their arousal, and lust for each other was clearly visible on their faces as Gohan closed the small gap between them, pressing their turgid rods together, keeping them pinned against each other’s stomachs as the moved in a short, precise movements. Their kissing grew ever more intense as they began to lose their sense of individuality, and succumbed to the pleasure they were sharing between with each other. Gohan broke it off again, panting softly, a slight growl to his voice as he managed to pant…

“Promise me… Promise me you won’t leave me Tyger… Aishiteru….”

In response to Gohan’s request, Trunks’ grip around Gohan’s neck grew tighter still; He hoisted himself into the air, making Gohan and the shower wall bear his weight. His left leg, and then his right coiled around, and fastened to Gohan’s waist. Gohan’s eyes widened in understanding, and the older Demi’s tail coiled around Trunk’s waist to assist with the support. Now the younger of the two was positioned adequately for his body to engulf Gohan’s maleness. Another Kiss passed between the two as Gohan pulled forward with his legs, forcing Gohan to lunge forward, and skewer Trunks with the truest of aim. The lavender haired youth’s eyes widened and watered as he looked straight into Mirai Gohan’s onyx orbs…

“I- I want… no, I need to belong to you… please… end my loneliness… make me…. YO…urs…”

As Trunks plead, Gohan thrust his hips slowly, moving in slow circles inside the other, spreading the younger demi’s rosebud slowly, and though there was a fair amount of pain for Trunks, he seemed to revel in it. He gasped softly as the shower continued to spray water all around them, keeping them wet in the process. The water had warmed up considerably, and though it was another in the list of things about this crazy night than made no sense to Trunks, he really didn’t care; especially since Gohan didn’t seem to notice. While Gohan tried to keep a slow, ans steady pace, Trunks began to flex his claves, ads his quads… forcing The other to speed his motions up a bit. The younger of the two men kept a tight lock on the older, to reduce his range of motion, and keep as much of Gohan inside him as possible. Trunks’ Insides seemed to instantly adjust to Gohan’s size and it seemed that the two were made to fit like hand and glove, While Gohan trailed kisses along Trunk’s crunched torso; the younger demi instinctively traced the scar that ran straight Gohan’s face. At one point Gohan grabbed Trunk’s throbbing meat and began to stroke him rhythmically. This caused Trunks to thrust upward unwittingly at first, but as his he got into the flow of it, he found that Gohan could indeed slide deeper into his depths and their crescendos would arrive in a more pleasurable way. Breathless pleas of “don’t stop” could be heard bouncing off the bathroom walls, though Trunks was far beyond caring whether or not anyone heard them, He had found true bliss.

After a time Gohan’s panting became heavier and Trunks could see his reflection in Gohan’s obsidian eyes… the older demi’s grip grew tighter as Gohan ascended, and cocoa covered fur began to cover him. Trunks could feel his own end rapidly approaching as Gohan seemed to be headed toward SSJ4, inside him, the speed in which the older Demi moved indicating that he too was about to blow… Trunks felt as if he was being torn apart as Gohan’s girth increased, and yet he begged for more, unable to describe the depths of pleasure he had found, and then came the moment… that wonderful… glorious mo…

BUZZZZ BUZZZZZZ BUZZZZZ!!!

Trunks began to stir slowly. His head hurt terribly, as did his neck. The Seventeen year old Demi Saiya-Jin warrior opened his eyes to find himself sitting at the same pressed wood capsule desk, staring at the same computer screen that started it all He blinked a few growling his frustration, and disbelief, His fingers swept through his sweat soaked lavender locks, as he turned his chirr o face his window, which had been shut, and locked. The telephone was back in the wall, and there was no evidence that he’s ever brought a sandwich in to his room during the night. Trunks’ squinted as the sun’s full strength came flooding through his bedroom window, after being obscured behind a few clouds. Trunks heaved a heavy sigh and thought to himself…

“Damn it! Another stupid dream…”

Trunks hated it when the might faded away, and left him so damn empty. It was almost like magic.

It was then that the Crown prince of Saiya-Jins noticed the flashing icon in his tool bar. Trunks took his mouse and clicked it; a friendly alerted him to his waiting mail.

Trunks’ eyes widened when the page finished loading, the Email address was Sayian_with_a_Second_Chance… the Subject….

RE: “Hello.”

Cause I wonder where you are and I wonder what you do…
Are you somewhere feeling lonely, or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart, I don’t even have a clue
but let me start by saying……

I love you…
Love….. You…..