Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Hurt ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that’s real

He slowly seats on the kitchen chair, alone in the dark.

It has become a routine for him, sitting in the middle of the
night, forcing his body to cool down before he allows himself the
luxury of a scalding shower and a sleepless night full of childhood
nightmares.

Bulma enters the room.

The woman has also become a routine for him.

She looks at him and she gives him one of those smiles full of
kindheartedness only she can offer…

It unnerves him.

No one’s ever smiled at him that way.

No one’s ever smiled at him.

Period.

He listens to her soft steps as she walks through the kitchen in
the dim light, warming up some milk for them both, and she places
an empty mug in front of him as she waits for their nightly drink
to be ready.

They don’t talk, there’s no need to.

It’s been almost a year since this gorgeous creature invited him
into her home and he hasn’t even ascended yet.

He feels like shit.

He feels like a worthless piece of shit.

Bulma pours the milk into his mug, and he waits patiently while she
adds cocoa and sugar to the mix. Her elegant fingers delicately
stirring the mixture until it’s ready for him to drink it.

She sits down in front of him and she repeats the process in her
own mug.

And then she notices.

His hands are trembling.

He overdid it today.

Again.

Her old self would yell at him, berating him for training himself
to death day after day, but it’s been some time since she’s done
that.

Things have changed now.

She’s not sure how or when it happened, but something’s different
about her relationship with the Saiyan Prince now.

Now she knows him.

And she accepts him, just the way he is.

She respects him.

He takes a sip of the hot mixture: it’s warm, comforting and
sweet.

Just like the woman who prepared it for him.

And then he realizes his vision is changing.

He sees red.

His left eyebrow is split.

He really fucked up today, didn’t he?

But pain is good.

Pain is almost like a friend, an old friend that’s always been by
his side, reminding him that he’s still alive.

Reminding him that this cosmic joke of a life he’s been thrown into
is real.

He’s real.

And so is the pale hand that suddenly touches his rough fingers,
gently intertwining them together, and weakly trying to force him
to stand up and follow her.

And he does.

Because she’s real too, and for some unknown reason she wants to
heal him.

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting

Try to kill it all away

But I remember everything

She walks through the hallway in front of him, never letting go of
his hand, until they reach a room.

Her room.

They enter the bedroom and she lets go of him, leaving him alone
while she goes to the bathroom to retrieve some medical
supplies.

He knows what to do.

He walks to her bed and he sits down tiredly on top of the
comforter, staring dejectedly at the floor.

He hears a noise and swiftly her feet are in front of him.

She’s barefoot.

She kneels down in front of him, placing her pert bottom on top of
her petite feet, and she gently touches his face, examining the
damage with methodical eyes.

For a split second, their eyes meet, and he sees something else in
those blue eyes.

Pity.

The blue haired siren feels sorry for him.

A feeling that would normally repulse him.

A feeling he’s been raised to despise.

And yet, tonight he welcomes it, embraces it, simply because she is
the one experiencing it.

She feels for him.

And the idea of this pure creation feeling something other than
hatred and horror towards him pleases him.

“Give me your arm, please” she whispers.

And he gives it to her.

He’d give her anything she asked for.

Anything.

He barely feels the thin needle pierce his resilient skin, and a
dark part of him wishes that it hurt more, that the pain was
stronger.

Because pain is good.

Pain keeps him grounded.

And yet, he’s allowing her to inject him a painkiller, something
he’s never allowed before, in order to give her the illusion that
she can make the pain go away.

And, in a way, she does, but not through her primitive human
medicine.

She alone makes the pain go away.

What have I become?

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know

Goes away in the end

Her soothing hands expertly stitch his eyebrow, and she delicately
applies some antiseptic after she’s done.

It stings.

The disinfectant burns his skin, and he once again welcomes the
discomfort.

But it doesn’t last long, because soon she’s blowing over it.

Soothing him.

Making the pain go away.

When she’s done, she remains sited on the floor, her graceful hands
fidgeting on her lap.

Not knowing what to do.

He wonders if she fears him, but he quickly reminds himself that
this Earth woman fears nothing and no one.

Not even him.

This used to infuriate him, but now it pleases him.

Now he knows that, if she ever feared him again, it would destroy
him.

His heart, whatever is left of it, would stop beating.

He looks into her eyes and she fearlessly holds his gaze, those
shimmery oceanic eyes of hers…

He suddenly realizes that this woman could bring any man to his
knees, and the thought of any other man, of anyone really,
possessing her hurts.

He hurts.

And someday he fears he’ll hurt her too.

After all, that’s his specialty, isn’t it?

You could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

His Bulma stands up, she presses one of her knees onto the bed and
she crawls on it, making him feel the bed shift behind him.

He turns around.

There she is, laying on her side of the bed.

Like a queen.

Oh, what a queen she would have made…

If his race were still alive, he’d fight everyone and anyone for
her.

He would have been proud of having her by his side, sitting on the
most precious throne wealth could buy.

Just for her.

And she’d be proud of being his woman, because he’d be an almighty
Prince.

He’d be someone.

Now he’s nothing.

The Prince of Disappointment.

Now he has nothing.

But she doesn’t seem to mind, because a slender arm stretches
towards him, offering him the warmth of her body.

Offering him something.

And he takes it.

I wear this crown of shit

Upon my liar’s chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair

He doesn’t take her hand, but he slowly lays down on the bed,
giving her his back.

That’s the only intimacy he allows her.

That’s the way they’ve been doing it for a while.

He’s expecting her to get close to him, holding his muscular waist
in her arms, burying her face in his warm back.

But she has other plans tonight…

Beneath the stains of time

The feelings disappear

You are someone else

I am still right here

She holds his hand and she pulls softly, trying to make him turn
towards her.

He knows she has no physical strength to do so.

He knows it will be his choice to face her.

And he does.

Because there’s nothing he can deny her.

So, he turns around.

There she is.

She’s smiling, happy with his compliance.

She confidently moves towards him, knowing she’s safe with him by
his side.

He knows she’s the only person that’s ever felt that way towards
him.

What have I become?

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know

Goes away in the end

He thinks she’ll embrace his waist once more and rest her face in
his chest.

She proves him wrong again.

The woman slips an arm underneath his impenetrable neck and she
pulls again, inviting him to bury his face in her neck.

And he lets her.

Without a doubt.

You could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

He buries his face in her neck, exhaling a trembling rush of hot
air.

He inhales deeply, that feminine scent of hers.

She smells of joyous dreams and hope.

He circles her tiny waist with his powerful arms and he holds her
tight.

He knows he won’t hurt her physically.

He’s a master of self-control after all.

Her emotions on the other side…

Yes.

He’ll hurt her someday.

He’ll never break her bones, but he’ll break her heart.

He knows it.

And she probably knows it too.

If I could start again

A million miles away

I would keep myself

I would find a way

They lay like this for countless minutes, holding each other for
dear life.

He knows it won’t last.

These innocent nights won’t last forever.

He knows one of these days he’ll cross the line.

One of these days he’s going to spread her legs wide open and bury
himself deep inside of her, giving her everything he has left.

And it won’t be enough.

Because it’s not much.

And she deserves more than a deeply damaged, emotionally wounded
warrior.

At nights like this he sometimes wishes he were a different
man.

A better man.

A decent man.

A man worthy of her.

He secretly knows that if he could start all over again, he’d do a
lot of things differently.

But there’s no going back.

It is what it is.

And he submerges his wishful thoughts deep inside his dark soul,
where no one will ever find them.

He kisses her temple and she sighs happily.

They both know where this is heading, but there’s no going
back.

He needs her.

And for some strange reason, she seems to need him too.

He closes his eyes and he allows himself to relax.

To let go.

Someday, when he finally crosses that invisible line, he’ll possess
her.

He’ll take as much of her as she’ll be willing to give.

And he’ll break her.

He’ll destroy her.

Yes.

He will hurt her.

But tonight, a dreamless night will suffice…