Chapter 02
Trunks turned in his bed, slowly opening one eye. That one cerulean orb glanced over to his balcony door, taking in the crescent moon, midnight sky, and twinkling stars. His other eye opened as he sat up in bed, silently wondering what woke him up.
His head jerked to the side when he heard the sound of a branch breaking followed by a small yelp of surprise. Realizing that the noise was coming from outside his room, he jumped out of bed and rushed out onto the large platform of his balcony. His eyes widened as he noticed a set of fingers hanging on to the railing. They widened even further when he saw to whom those fingers were attached.
“Gohan?”
Trunks stood there in shock for a few seconds then shook his head to clear it. He reached out and grabbed Gohan’s arm, pulling him onto the balcony’s marble floor. He put Gohan’s arm over his shoulder, holding onto his wrist, and wrapped his own arm around Gohan’s waist. He half-carried, half-dragged the younger boy into his room and gingerly laid him on his bed.
“Gohan?” he called softly as he sat down beside him.
A quiet grunt emitted from Gohan’s lips as he opened his eyes to see who had spoken. His eyes took a while to focus, but the blur of lavender was unmistakable. He reached his hand out to touch the concerned figure before him, but his body, too tired and sore, refused to let him complete the action. His arm limply fell back to its place on the bed.
“Gohan…what happened? You…you look like shit…”
Gohan smiled weakly and tried to sit up. Trunks gently pushed him back down, not wanting him to put himself in any unnecessary pain.
“Who did this to you?”
Gohan turned his head away, ashamed of the tears that sprang to his eyes. Trunks frowned a bit and put his fingers to Gohan’s chin to turn his head back to him. He brushed away the twin trails of saline with his thumb.
“Gohan,” he whispered, “please…tell me…”
More tears spilled from the teenager’s dark eyes, and he bit his lip to stifle a sob. Blood formed around his teeth as his sharp incisors pricked his flesh. Trunks’ eyebrows furrowed as he watched a thin line of blood drop from his lip. He sighed and rose from his bed.
“Look, you can’t stay in those bloody clothes all night. You should take a bath first, to ease some of the pain, and then I’ll treat your wounds, okay?”
Gohan opened his mouth, then closed it when even that made his jaws ache. He paused a moment and tried again.
“I…can’t…it hurts…”
Gohan’s words were faint, but Trunks’ Saiya-jin ears heard them still. He stood there a moment, not really sure what to do, but then he nodded and walked into his bathroom.
It was about this time that Gohan noticed what Trunks was wearing. Or rather, what he wasn’t wearing. His purple-haired angel was dressed in nothing but a pair of blue, silk boxers. If his body hadn’t been aching in places he didn’t know existed, he would have squealed like an obsessed fangirl. But since it was, he had to settle for mental squealing.
Footsteps invaded his thoughts and he became aware of Trunks walking towards him. He noted the sound of running water, as the older man lifted him off the bed and carried him to his bathroom. He propped Gohan up against the sink and helped him to remove his clothes.
Gohan blushed a crimson shade as his crush lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it on the tile floor. Trunks stopped when he spotted the many bruises and cuts on Gohan’s chest and stomach. Beneath the drying blood, he even noticed scars of previous wounds much like the new ones.
“Oh Kami, Gohan…” Trunks breathed.
Gohan, trying to keep from seeing the pain in Trunks’ endless blue eyes, bent over to take off his pants. He blushed more when he felt the other man’s eyes still on him. Gohan straightened and walked carefully over to the bathtub. On his way, his muscles gave in to the pain and his balanced faltered, threatening to bring the floor closer to his face.
He felt strong arms break his fall, and felt silky strands of lavender hair brush against his cheeks. Trunks gathered Gohan in his arms and cautiously placed him in the warm water. Gohan sighed softly as the liquid soothed his skin.
Trunks grabbed a small towel and lathered it with soap. He gently massaged Gohan’s aching muscles, taking extra care not to press too hard against his bruised skin. Gohan leaned back against Trunks, moaning when Trunks washed the inside of his thighs.
Trunks’ hand hesitated as his mind concocted images to accompany the sounds he was hearing. He shook his head, clearing it of all perverted thoughts, and continued to bathe his friend.
“Trunks…” Gohan moaned, closing his eyes.
This time Trunks dropped the towel in the water, trying to rid himself of the possible sounds Gohan could make if he were…
‘Argh!! No! He’s your best friend, and he’s hurt! You can’t think those things!!’ Trunks scolded himself.
“Trunks?”
The blue-eyed man blushed as he realized that Gohan was watching him with great interest. Trunks smiled weakly and stood up. He offered his hand to Gohan and turned away as he rose from the water and stepped out of the tub.
Trunks handed his teenage friend a towel and left the bathroom, leaving a confused Gohan in his wake. Gohan stared at the door, towel in hand, wondering why his angel had left him so abruptly.
‘Did I do something wrong…?’
Gohan stretched, then contracted quickly, as his wounds reminded him of their presence. He gently toweled himself dry and wrapped the damp cloth around his waist.
“Man, that bath was just what I needed…” he muttered. “At least I can walk on my own now… Although, I wouldn’t have minded Trunks carrying me until I got better…”
Gohan smiled at the thought and walked over to the mirror. The boy that looked back at him made his breath hitch in his throat. He reached up to run his finger along the large bruise on his cheek. He stared at the long slender cut on his side and the nail marks that stretched across his chest. He flinched when he touched the gash on forearm, shuddering as he remembered how it got there.
The inky-eyed boy turned from the mirror, suddenly disgusted by his reflection, and walked out of the spacious room. As he entered the bedroom, he saw Trunks toying with something in the First-Aid kit.
The lavender-haired man looked up, sensing someone behind him. He turned and motioned for Gohan to come closer. Gohan walked up to him and sat down on the bed. He watched with interest as Trunks began to bandage his cuts.
When Trunks was done, he put up the kit and stood in front of the younger boy, his arms folded across his bare chest. Trunks stared into Gohan’s charcoal eyes and waited.
“Well?” he asked after a period of time.
“Um, well what?”
“You never answered me, Gohan. I think I have a right to know who did this, or at least, what happened. Don’t I?”
Gohan fidgeted a little, not sure what do say. Of course Trunks had a right to know. But what would he think if he knew? After a moment’s hesitation, Gohan took a deep breath and began his story. He told Trunks everything—about the pain his mother’s death caused him and his family, Goku’s nightly disappearances, the abuse he had taken everytime his father returned home drunk.
By the time he stopped, he was sobbing uncontrollably. Trunks sat beside him and wrapped his arms around him, cradling Gohan’s slightly hysterical form. He rocked back and forth, rubbing Gohan’s back, and whispering comforting words in his ear until he calmed down.
Gohan sniffed and wiped his eyes, blushing. He pushed himself away from Trunks and looked down at the floor, suddenly embarrassed by his actions. He fingered the white cloth that hung around his waist and waited. He waited for Trunks to voice his disgust at his weakness, waited for Trunks to hate him like he hated himself.
But Trunks did none of that, and when he spoke, his words were quiet and gentle.
“Gohan,” he began, “when Goku would come home drunk…would he…has he ever…forced himself on you?”
Gohan tensed visibly. He had conveniently left those parts out and hoped that he wouldn’t ask. The black-haired teen closed his eyes and shook his head.
“No,” he said quietly.
Trunks frowned, sensing the lie. “Gohan…how far has he gone with you?”
“…He hasn’t done anything…like that…”
Trunks sighed. “Both of us know you’re lying. Tell me the truth, Gohan. You have to tell someone. If you don’t, no one can help you.”
Gohan turned away from Trunks and hung his head. He couldn’t possibly tell him how his father had…
“Gohan,” Trunks whispered, his mouth to his ear. “I want to help you. Please, let me do that.”
Gohan stiffened for a moment and then relaxed as Trunks’ arms encircled his waist, pulling him into a loose embrace. He leaned his head against the older man’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting his tears flow from his eyes as he remembered that one horrible night.
“He…he came home one night, even more drunk than usual…”
FlashbackGohan sat in the living room, flipping through the channels, finding nothing of interest. Sighing, he turned off the television and grabbed a book. He stared at the pages absently, listening to the rain strike the windows and wondering when his father would return.
He would be sixteen tomorrow, and he doubted that his father would be up to celebrating. It had yet to be a year since the passing of his mother, and Goku was taking it worse than expected.
Gohan turned his gaze to the door, willing for his father to come home.
As though Goku had heard his son’s thoughts, the door opened and he slowly walked inside. He was soaking wet from the rain, and the water dripped from his clothes onto the floor. His eyes were lifeless, and his breathing was shallow.
Gohan watched as his father steadily made his way over to him. Goku stood in front of his son, rocking on his feet slightly, and stared down at him. He reached out and grabbed Gohan by the collar of his shirt, pulling him up to his eye level.
“My clothes are wet,” he stated drunkenly. “Whatcha gonna do about it, son?”
Gohan stared into his father’s eyes, wondering what he meant.
“Ya know,” Goku continued, “you should take them off for me. Yeah, and maybe I’ll reward ya for bein’ such a good boy.”
The young boy’s eyes widened as he saw the hungry glint in his father’s otherwise dull eyes. He tried to back away, but only succeeded in falling back onto the couch. Goku grinned and dropped himself on top of his son.
Straddling the boy’s hips, he removed his wet shirt. Gohan wiggled underneath the massive bulk of his father. Goku reached out a backhanded him across the cheek.
“Move and I’ll kill you, you brat!” he hissed at his son.
Gohan stiffened and watched as his father ripped off his shirt and pants, leaving him clothed in only his boxers. Goku lifted himself up for a moment to strip himself of his own clothing, revealing his aching erection. He looked down at his son and licked his lips. He tore his boxers away from his hips, exposing the pale flesh underneath.
The older man dragged his fingernails across his son’s abdomen, watching in satisfaction the blood that welled from the scratches. Gohan whimpered and tears stung the corners of his eyes. Goku took notice with a growl. He slapped his son hard across the face.
“Shut up, brat!”
Gohan bit his lip, not wanting to anger his father further. Goku levitated above his son long enough to shove him roughly off the couch. Gohan hit the floor with a soft thud. Goku kicked his son in the side and rolled him over onto his stomach with his foot. He bent down and grabbed Gohan’s hips, pulling them up towards him.
Taking no time for foreplay or preparation, Goku thrust himself inside his son. Gohan cried out in anguish as Goku’s large shaft invaded his small entrance. Allowing him no time to adjust to the size, the dark-haired man slammed into Gohan over and over again. With each plunge, Gohan writhed with agony and screamed with pain.
Goku ground his hips against him, thinking of his own satisfaction without taking into consideration the pain of his son. Moaning throatily, he thrust deeply into Gohan one last time before climaxing inside of him.
Spent, Goku slumped against his son. Gohan fell to the floor, feeling the blood trickle down his thighs. After a few moments had passed, he crawled from underneath his father and to the wall opposite him, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He pulled his knees to his chest and stared at his unconscious father. He hung his head, feeling no better than a cheap whore. He shoulders shook as he cried.
Goten slowly walked up to his older brother, his innocent mind not understanding what he had just witnessed from his place in the doorway. The five-year-old boy stared at his brother, his small hand reaching out to wipe away Gohan’s tears. Gohan looked into his brother’s eyes and cried harder.
End of flashback“Some birthday present…” Gohan muttered bitterly.
