To Understand Love

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball Z is owned by Toriyama Akira. As such, I make no money from writing this. Popsicle® is owned by Good Humor-Breyers® Ice Cream Company and I make no money using their name.

Thanks to daisyINSANEangel, quatreofdoom, Mortifer Lascivio, Webtester01, skyaze, and InstantStar for leaving me a review. I really appreciate it!

Also, I completely self edit. I do use a spell check, and I really try to fix any grammatical mistakes, but no matter how much I try, some always slip through the cracks. If you find a glaring error, please let me know so that I can fix it. Thanks.

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Chapter 10

December came and went, signaling not only the end of the old year, but also the continuation of change within my own life. I turned a year older a few days before Christmas, finished my first graduate course in education with a solid B, and still found myself mourning the loss of my best friend and I suppose I can say, my first love. However, I decided with the beginning of the new year that I was going to put Trunks behind me. That aching rawness inside my chest still hadn’t vanished. However, instead of allowing myself to linger on something that I most likely would never attain, I came to the decision to move on with my own life and finally start to become comfortable with the man I was developing into.

Coming to this conclusion, it brought a sense of peace yet it did not bring back the happy and carefree person I used to be before all of the troubles that had plagued Trunks’s and my relationship started appearing over a year before. It felt like I was closing the door to that persona, which had been me for twenty-five years of my life. While I felt a certain sadness and a number of regrets, I stepped into a new pair of shoes, determined to make them fit.

It wasn’t a life altering change, nor was it one that really stood out to the people who saw me at work or in my classes, but Gohan noticed right away. And he said he was happy, but I could tell by looking in his eyes, he felt as though there was something missing from the equation. That even while I had pulled myself out of my sinking depression, I still wasn’t happy nor was I whole. Yet, because of my resolution, I knew that I would never be complete and I…I pushed my old hopes and dreams in a box and buried them as deeply as I could, determined to put the past out of sight and move toward the future, whatever that might be.

With this new attitude, I slipped through January and into February, determined not to hide from myself any longer. And into this new adventure, if one would call it that, Shinji somehow ended becoming intertwined.

I couldn’t even really understand it myself. He…was strange and no matter that I still felt as though he wasn’t right in the head, I couldn’t continue to deny that I found him interesting and his statements about understanding loneliness compelling. I guess I figured that if he knew so much about the feeling, we at least had that much in common and perhaps he could help me understand why I continued to feel the loss of my friend even after months of being separated from one another.

After Christmas break, he found me again in the student center catching up on reading for my class. He walked over to the coffee shop, ordered two lattes, and without so much as blinking, sat across from me as though he were my long lost friend. While that part of his attitude irritated me, he was persistent and at the same time, he gave me enough space and enough time to figure out what I truly wanted from him or this relationship he was offering me. In truth, I still haven’t figured that out. I think what I want is…something to fill the void. Perhaps it’s the move of a desperate man to fill that emptiness with a stranger’s companionship and perhaps, I’m just as crazy as Shinji. Whatever the case may be, it is no longer an option to simply avoid him or pretend he doesn’t exist because that would be pointless. Although he invited himself deliberately into my awareness, I cannot deny that I let him have access because…I need him in some sort of warped fashion.

I haven’t told anyone about his existence, not even Gohan. It isn’t because I’m ashamed of him, it’s just that I have no idea how to bridge the questions that would inevitably arise if I introduced him into my circle of acquaintances, especially since I’m still struggling to figure out where he fits amongst my friends, if I can even call him that. He defies categorization. He is, as I have found out, uniquely himself and not opposed to proving to the world how bizarre he can be.

My case in point is that at the moment, he’s trying to make me smile by singing a terrible rendition of ‘On Top of Spaghetti’ in the public student union. All he’s doing is making himself look like an absolute idiot and embarrassing me to the point of wanting to hide under the table.

“Come on, Goten! Just sing a verse with me. You’ll feel better, I promise you! On top of SPAGHETTI, all covered with sau…”

I grab his arm and pull him down against the table, his face almost touching the smooth, laminate surface. Hissing in his ear, I tell him in no uncertain terms that if he doesn’t shut the fuck up, I will permanently remove his vocal chords. He has no idea that I could actually live up to my promise, so he smiles wryly before winking at me.

“If you don’t like my singing, you could ask me nicely to stop. As it is, I think everyone thinks you’re trying to kiss me.”

Widening my eyes, I push away from him only to realize that the student center is eerily silent, the other students staring at the two of us and the oddity of our behavior. As soon as Shinji sits up straight in his chair, everyone still watching the pair of us averts their eyes and begins to talk. At this moment, I could kill him. Turning around, I glare at him before grabbing my philosophy of education textbook and opening it up to the chapter I was on before he started acting like a moron.

After about five minutes of silence, I can feel his leg jiggling nervously against mine. Frowning, I lower my book and watch as he twists a piece of his dark hair around his finger, his eyes absently wandering around the student center as he observes the people moving in and out as they purchase food, sit down to study, or are on their way to class.

“Are you all right?”

He stiffens at my voice and then drops his hand to the side, turning his frame around so that we are looking at each other face to face. Cocking his head to the side, I watch as he slides his eyes down my face before locking them slightly to the right of a direct line of vision.

“Yeah. I’m just bored and people are more interesting to watch than the back of your philosophy book.”

I grunt slightly and shake my head.

“You don’t have to sit here and keep me company. You can go home at any time. I’m not stopping you.”

I don’t think he likes my answer because he twists his lips into a poor imitation of a frown before his eyes light up and a smile spreads across his face. Feeling uncomfortable over his sudden change in mood, I look away and pretend to go back to studying my book.

“Goten, have you eaten dinner?”

“What?” I ask, slightly surprised at his question, considering the change of topic.

“Are you hungry?”

I let that question roll around my brain before answering it, not sure what direction he’s planning on taking my reply.

“A little,” I lie, considering that I’m currently starving.

He cocks his eyebrow up slightly, widening his already rather feminine looking eyes, letting me know that he thinks I’m full of shit. I shift my feet nervously underneath the table as he openly stares at me, once again twirling his short hair around his finger.

“Would you stop staring at me? No wonder everybody thinks you’re…”

“What? Weird, crazy, or gay? You can take your pick. I’ve been accused of being as such at least once in my life, if not more times.”

I roll my eyes at him and mutter under my breath that I wasn’t going to say any of those things, although I’m sure he knows better. Still, he does have a talent for acting beyond the way a normal person would respond to certain situations. Letting out a sigh, I lean back in my chair and decide to return his characteristic stare, which leads to a very unappealing snort of laughter.

“You can try all you want to master my stare, but I’m the true artist. Anyway, I have this brilliant idea. Do you want to hear it?”

Not really. Knowing Shinji, it probably won’t be that great. However, to be polite, I shake my head yes while still trying to outstare him, knowing that I can always decline should his offer be strange, uncomfortable, or ridiculous. I don’t think he picks up on my overt sarcasm as he suddenly beams.

“Great! How about you pack up your books and come over to my apartment? I’ll cook you dinner and you can study your philosophy garbage.”

I almost choke on my own spit, not expecting that invitation at all. So far, in the last two months since I’ve started having this…unique relationship with Shinji, he’s never once mentioned going anywhere alone with him, which immediately made me feel much more comfortable around him than had he been forceful in accelerating our relationship. Pushing my chair away from the table a few inches, I try to wrap my mind around what it is he’s really asking, still slightly skeptical about what he wants from this relationship with me. Deciding that he probably means no harm, I settle on rejecting his offer as gently as possible while being firm.

“That sounds like a good idea, but you don’t have to go to all the trouble of cooking me a meal. I’ll be fine if I just go home or grab a snack here. Besides, it’s already seven and I’ve got to be at work tomorrow morning at eight.”

Happy with my answer, my satisfaction is short lived. If I have learned anything about Shinji in the last two months, it’s that he is extremely persistent when he wants something, and he’s not averse to applying counter arguments to sway his opponent in his favor. I suddenly have the uncomfortable sensation that I’m not in control of this situation, no matter how much I wish I were, especially when he looks at me seriously, something that he rarely does.

“Come on Goten, I know you’re hungry. Your stomach has been growling constantly for the last hour at least. Loudly, I might add.”

I blush in embarrassment at his abrupt manner in regards to the gurgling sounds coming from my gut.

“Besides, it’s Friday night. You told me you don’t work on Saturdays. If you stay up too late at my place studying, you can always spend the night. I’ve got plenty of room. I mean, what do you think is going to happen if you hang out with me? I’ve already told you more than once that I’m only here to be your friend and I don’t take my promises lightly. I just don’t want to think of you stewing all alone in your apartment for the eighth Friday in a row since we’ve started hanging out. It’s a rather depressing thought, don’t you think?”

“What makes you think that I’m going to go home and ‘stew’ in my apartment, as you put it?” I ask crossly, put out by his argument that effectively traps me in my lie and shoves out in the open the concerns that have been floating around in my thoughts about his intentions.

He sighs and rubs his long fingers through his short hair, as if frustrated.

“Because I just know that’s what you do. I mean, it’s not like I really go and hang out on Friday nights either, and the places I usually frequent when I do go out are probably not areas where you would ever go, but still…I’m not stupid. Lonely and depressed people hang out alone. That’s all there is to it. At any rate, I know you think you can persuade me that you’re perfectly fine by yourself, and I’m sure you are, but I am not taking no for an answer. You’re coming over and that’s final. So come on. Pack up your stuff and follow me out to my car.”

I look at him with a dumbfounded expression, being maneuvered into his little plan quite effectively. Shaking off my stupor, I watch as he grabs my book and shoves it in my book bag before standing.

“Come on, Shinji…”

He snaps his eyebrows together at my tone of voice and gives me a stern look, one that would do a mother proud. Affronted by his suddenly forceful personality change, I feel foolish and awkwardly follow him out of the student center and into the parking lot, pulling my coat on along the way.

After a few minutes of trudging across the slick pavement, we come to a blue sedan. I watch as he pulls a key ring out of one of the pockets accenting his navy blue pea coat. Pressing the unlock button, the car beeps and he opens the back seat door, throwing my book bag in the back before climbing into the driver’s side.

“Get in, Goten, before you turn into a Popsicle.”

“I wasn’t going to turn into a Popsicle,” I mutter under my breath, opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat. He waits for me to close my door and buckle up before starting the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot.

We sit in silence for the ten-minute car ride to Olympic Apartments, where he resides. My mind is whirling with many thoughts mostly related to why he would insist on me coming over or why I was so pansy assed that I let him push me towards his little idea. Sighing under my breath, I watch as he pulls into a parking garage and maneuvers his car inside a tight parking spot before putting the parking brake up and turning the vehicle off. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I wait for him to exit the car before leaning over the front seat to retrieve my bag and then exit his car, slamming the door and quickly following him towards the entrance and then to the second elevator in the downstairs lobby.

The ride up to the seventeenth floor is quiet, neither one of us saying anything. I briefly have this feeling that he’s just as uncomfortable having me over, that he won’t be in his element, and that I might find out more about him, but I shake the sensation off. The fact is, it wouldn’t make any sense for him to have invited me into his sanctuary had he felt uneasy over the prospect of revealing more of his personal life. Still, his silence only makes me wonder, since Shinji is rarely quiet.

Soon enough, the elevator stops on the seventeenth floor. With a ding, the door opens and I find myself following Shinji down a long corridor before he turns a corner and stops in front of a door. He presses a code in on his keypad and the door opens. As soon as it does, he turns to me and his normal, idiotic smile is plastered across his lips.

“We’re here! Come on in and make yourself comfortable. My only rule is that you take your shoes off in the entryway and hang your coat up on the coat stand. Otherwise, you can set up wherever you like.”

Raising my eyebrow at him skeptically, I step through the threshold of his apartment and find myself suddenly impressed with the size and the layout.

His apartment makes mine look like a ghetto dump heap.

The kitchen is off to the left in the back with a large island and a sizable eating area. There is a balcony fronting the opposite side of the main living area, which has an excellent view of the park and the skyline of West City glittering in the distance. A fireplace stands against the wall next to a wide hallway. The furniture looks fairly new and art nouveau decorates the walls; strange pictures and odd statues littering the apartment somewhat tastefully. It’s also extremely clean, with not a speck of dust to be seen or dirty clothes anywhere, at least within the viewable area.

I realize at that moment that Shinji must have a very lucrative position within admissions to be able to afford living in such a spacious and new apartment. Feeling self-conscious, I slowly pull my coat off and hang it up before removing my shoes. Stepping out of the small entryway, I move awkwardly towards the couch, not sure where else to go. Shinji seems to have no problems with this as he suddenly grabs my arm and drags me around, before pushing me on top of the soft and squishy cushions his large couch affords.

“You don’t need to shove me,” I mutter at him tersely, which only earns a lopsided smile.

“You’re acting like a bull in a china shop. Stop being so…prudish.”

Prudish? I’ve been called many things, but not that. Twisting my lips to a grimace, I settle back against the couch before I pull out my book from my bag and open it to where I was reading, trying to not let the awkwardness of the situation or the discomfort of my own feelings get in the way of my studying.

“I’m going to change. Think about what you want to eat. Your choices are either linguini with a basil pesto sauce and grilled chicken or steak gorgonzola with a mozzerela, spinach, and tomato salad.”

With that said, he turns around and walks down the hallway, disappearing into the end room and closing the door behind him.

Staring at the closed doorway, I wonder who would ever cook such meals for themselves and if he’s been planning this for a while. I certainly never have made such in-detail recipes for myself, mostly only cooking things that are instant or ordering out. However, when has Shinji ever fit the mold of normalcy? The more time I spend with him, the more I am convinced that if he isn’t gay, he definitely has some stereotypical attitudes that surround him. He’s almost…womanly, yet I would never tell him that.

Shaking my head, I fix my mind once again on my book, also thinking that it would be quite easy for me to slip out the balcony and fly back to my apartment. The thought is a tempting one, yet Shinji proves to be a fast changer, as he suddenly appears in the hallway entrance wearing a pair of red lounge pants and a plain white T-shirt.

“You weren’t thinking of leaving, were you?” he asks nonchalantly, raising my hackles slightly the way he seems to be able to read my mind so effortlessly, his large eyes drilling me.

Shaking my head slightly, he smiles and winks at me, as if to say that he knows I’m lying once again. Feeling butterflies in my stomach, something that rarely happens to me, I edge up against the back of the couch and decide to fake interest in my textbook, burying my face within its pages. I can sense Shinji’s weak ki as he moves away towards the kitchen, padding past me slowly as if eyeing up my embarrassed and nervous manner. I let out a little sigh of relief, a soft breath of air past my lips when I hear a cupboard bang and the rattle of pots, a sure sign that he’s about to start cooking.

I can’t honestly tell you what it is about Shinji that unsettles me, but sometimes he makes me feel as though he’s some sort of spider and I’m a dim-witted fly that got stuck in his web. It could be his mannerisms, his unerring ability to detect my lies or my true feelings, or it could be the fact that he defies categorization amongst the few friends or acquaintances I’ve ever had. I also can’t read him or what it is he’s after. My thoughts regarding him are constantly shifting, and I don’t like the feeling of not knowing what it is he wants or what it is he’s after. He keeps saying he only wants friendship, or to help me not be so lonely after my disastrous last encounter with Trunks, yet I’m never really certain. I don’t like being uncertain and I don’t like being played up as a fool, although I’m sure that is not his intention.

Once again, I find myself letting out a sigh as I drop my book, letting it slip through my fingers to land in my lap. Yawning, I decide to glance around his apartment to get a better feel of who Shinji is. As of yet, the only things I really know about him is that he works in admissions for West City University, lives here in Olympic Apartments, drives a blue car, can be extremely obnoxious, apparently likes to cook, and can be flamboyant when he wants to be. Otherwise, when it comes to the depth of his personality, who he really is or what his ambitions are, I have no idea. In the back of my head, I tell myself that it’s better I know nothing of him because that would mean he would move from being an acquaintance of no standing to somebody who is more than a name and a face. That it would complicate things, especially when I have no idea what I really want from him or what he wants from me except to fill the loneliness left from when Trunks pushed me out of his life.

I can hear him humming an off key tune as he clatters around the kitchen. Using the sound of his work as a cover for my own curiosity, I slowly let my eyes travel along the smooth walls, glancing at his bookcases and shelves. Unfortunately, except for his strange taste in artistic expression, he has no visible mementos of anything regarding himself: no pictures of family or friends, no photo albums to ponder, or any particular books that would point to a specific interest of his. He’s purposely made himself an enigma, even within his home.

Pushing myself forward on his couch, I twist my body around so that I can see him working in his kitchen. The smell of the food is almost unbearable, especially since I really am hungry. I watch as he chops something up, putting it inside a frying pan. It’s obvious he knows what he’s doing and that cooking happens to be something he enjoys.

“So Goten, what did you want? The steak or the chicken?”

Blinking dumbly, I realize I had forgotten he was going to ask what it is that I want to eat. Truthfully, I’d eat the bricks in his walls if they were edible, but I’m obviously not going to tell him that. Deciding that steak sounds appealing, the thought of eating red meat with juices dripping down my chin inflaming my already obvious hunger, I tell him as much. To this, he only shakes his head before opening his fridge and extracting a package of meat.

I sigh yet again before turning around and picking up my book. Fingering the edge, I read a few sentences and then lose myself to random thoughts about this or that, my fleeting attention span already eaten up during my time in the student center.

“Oh, Goten! Supper is ready!”

I jump out of my stupor, realizing that I must have dozed off. Standing up, I lay my book on the coffee table and stand up, walking slowly towards the table. The dinner smells…good, although to be honest, I’m not much of a picky eater as long as it is edible. It also looks…appetizing, my mouth instantly salivating and my stomach erupting in a loud rumble at the thought of being fed. Pulling out a chair, I sit down and pretend not to notice Shinji as he places a generous portion of pasta on my plate, adding the steak to the top. He serves himself a smaller amount and then walks back into the kitchen, taking a bottle off his wine rack. Immediately, I can feel my palms beginning to sweat and a sick feeling enters my gut. There’s no way that a normal person wouldn’t take this as a date, or at least as some sort of advance.

“Do you like merlot or cabernet sauvignon?” he asks nonchalantly, standing with one of his hips sticking out, his strange eyes fixed on my face.

“Ummm, I don’t really drink wine,” I answer lamely, which is the truth. I have no idea what the difference would even be between the two names he rattled off. I try to relax as he takes my answer in stride, putting the bottle he was holding back and extracting a new one. Grabbing a cork remover, he pulls the stopper out with a relish and then brings the bottle over, pouring me a moderate amount before pouring himself a glass.

Seating himself, he takes his napkin and puts it across his lap before blinking and giving me an odd look. Unsure of myself, of him, and of the situation, I swallow deeply before fixing a look at the plate of food in front of me.

“Well, dig in! Unless you like cold pasta and steak.”

I shake my head at that and pick up my fork, slowly bringing a bite of steak to my lips. Sliding it inside my mouth, I let the flavors and texture wrap around my taste buds before swallowing. It’s actually quite good, better than I expected. Lowering my fork, I take a sip of the wine, puckering my mouth at its tartness before letting it also seep down my throat, mixing its flavor with that of the steak.

“What…what wine did you pick?” I ask, not really sure what else to say.

“Merlot. It’s not as full-bodied as the cabernet sauvignon, so I figured you’d like it better. Is it good?”

“Uh, yeah.”

End of conversation. Letting out a deep breath, I pick up my fork and start to eat, making sure to not let Shinji know exactly how hungry I am or how immense my appetite is. After about ten minutes, my food is eaten and my wine glass is empty. He doesn’t say anything as he pours me another glass and puts more pasta on my plate. I feel out of my element and part of me is offended at his treating me like someone unable to serve themselves. However, I let that feeling slide away as I once again tuck in and finish a second helping and a second glass of wine.

“Are you normally this quiet when you eat?”

Looking up from my plate, I shrug at Shinji’s inquiry, not willing to divulge any more of myself than I absolutely have to towards him. He sighs at this and leans back against his chair, raising his arms above his shoulders and crossing his hands behind his head. He levels me a look, his usual animation and pretentiousness replaced by a seriousness I have never associated with him in the short time we have become acquaintances.

“Trying to figure you out is…you’re strange, Goten.”

I’m strange? To me, it’s like calling the kettle black.

“You’re…I don’t know. You’re terrified about something. Is it me? I think it is, but then again, I don’t think it is. So, are you terrified of me? I’ve never inspired that feeling in anyone before, so I guess I could say I feel flattered by that, but at the same time, it’s insulting.”

I don’t know if he’s trying to goad me, so I play stupid and pretend not to have heard his question. The truth is, on a conscious level, I don’t know what I think about him except that he’s decidedly eccentric. If I delve deeper into my subconscious, I know the truth about my previous relationship with Trunks, my own sexuality, and where Shinji fits between those two paradigms, yet I don’t want to acknowledge those feelings or thoughts to him, or to myself. I just want to move on and away from them.

“Come on Goten. Why don’t you just talk to me? You’re so distant most of the time.”

I give him in incredulous look before pushing my empty plate away. Why should I talk to him about my innermost thoughts? I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, yet there is not point in denying the truth that he somehow draws me to him. Still, that doesn’t mean he’s my confident.

“Fine. Don’t talk. Be miserable.”

He pulls his hands from behind his head and pushes his chair back, standing up to remove the dirtied plates and silver from his table. I can tell he’s disappointed in me, but what does he expect? I used to not be so distrustful of people, but I’ve grown up since my naïve years in high school and community college, when I would blindly follow anybody who seemed somewhat credible. Trunks changed that perception, though. He changed it before I even realized what had happened, when he started to pull away and drown himself in sex and alcohol as a way to relieve the reality of whatever problems he was dealing with. He showed me that people use people, and no matter that Shinji tries to treat his behavior towards me as that of a friend, I can’t help but read more into it than that.

Watching his movements at the sink as he starts to rinse the dishes before putting them in his dishwasher, I feel slightly guilty for no apparent reason and take the rest of the dishes on the table into the kitchen. Setting them on the counter next to him, I back away and rest against the opposite counter, observing his motions as he runs the dishes under water and systematically stacks them according to size.

“Do you like it?” he asks suddenly, not pausing as he continues to stack dishes in his dishwasher.

“Do I like what?” I reply, thinking to appease him for some reason unknown even to myself.

“Being miserable. You know, you could write a book about it. You ooze it. It’s no wonder you don’t have any friends. Who’d want to hang out with such a sour and lifeless person, besides me?”

I huff in irritation before crossing my arms and turning my face away from his back.

“I’m not miserable.”

“You are.”

I want to act childishly and snap out another rebuttal, but I decide to ignore the urge and stand in silence.

“Well, you aren’t the only person in the world who’s miserable. However, you are the only person I know who’s completely resistant to the idea of ending their own internal suffering. It’s like you’re punishing yourself for something you did, but that’s just stupid. People make mistakes. That’s how they learn. So get over whatever it is that’s making you think you don’t deserve happiness and start trying to at least act like there’s some life inside that head of yours.”

“Look Shinji, I never asked you to get involved in my life and quite frankly, I don’t appreciate you trying to dictate to me how I should change. Besides, what’s in it for you? I mean, what normal person comes up to a complete strange and offers to help with no thought of some sort of remuneration? What do you want, huh? Because it’s got to be something more than mere friendship. I mean, I know absolutely nothing about you. You think I hide myself, but you’re just as bad.”

His back stiffens at my comments. Slowly, he dries his hand on a towel before shutting the water off in the sink and turning around to confront me. His face is taught but his eyes are…they are soft and his expression is that of somebody who understands something essential that I’m apparently missing.

“You’re so distrustful, Goten and that is…I feel sorry for you.”

My eyes bulge and I try to say something, but he puts his hand up to stall whatever words that would spill out over my lips from reaching him.

“I don’t want anything. All I want is what you are willing to give.”

“But that’s so…” I try to sputter out, but he stops me by shaking his head.

“Ambiguous? Perhaps, but I’ve never lied to you. It’s what you want Goten. That’s all it’s ever been. As for hiding myself, why don’t you just ask me? I know you have a million questions burning in your head about me, except you’ve never once tried to find out the answers. I can’t give you them if I don’t know what it is that you want. So what do you want?”

I close my eyes. What do I want? Although Trunks never asked me aloud what I wanted, it was something I know he had in his mind and I couldn’t give him an answer. When I finally did, he turned away from me. I don’t want to have that happen again. Not like that.

“It’s not…it’s not that simple.”

“You don’t think it’s simple? Well, why don’t you push that thought away for a second and just ask me something, anything that’s on your mind. It’s the only way you’ll find out if I’m telling you the truth.”

I don’t even think. I just blurt out the first question that flits through my brain.

“Are you attracted to me?”

I have a feeling he wasn’t quite expecting that, and I feel foolish for letting my own insecurities jump forward in such a manner, yet he merely blinks before answering.

“Yes.”

Lifting my eyebrows in disbelief, I snort at him before laughing incredulously.

“Yet all you want is friendship? Give me a fucking break, Shinji! God, you’re…you’re really a piece of work.”

I give him an appraising look before walking away to grab my book bag, and to his credit, he doesn’t even flinch.

Picking up my book bag, I head towards the door and go to grab my jacket before Shinji’s voice cuts through and stops me in my tracks.

“I’ve never…lied to you about that. I would have assumed you had figured that out from the beginning. But I’m telling you the truth. I just want friendship. However, if you want…well, like I said Goten, it’s up to you.”

I shake my head at him before pulling my coat on. Turning around, I level him a condescending look.

“What makes you think I’d ever…no, forget it. I don’t want to know.”

He doesn’t attempt to stop me while I put on my shoes and then open his door. At least, I don’t think he plans on doing anything until I try to step through the doorway.

“You know, we always fear what we don’t understand and what also happens to lay closest to our hearts. You’re unhappy and you don’t want to change that because you’re afraid of something. I’m not going to make any conjectures as to what your recent past was like, but I can tell you from personal experience that when some uncomfortable truth comes to the surface, the hardest thing to do is to accept it for what it is. Yet, it has to happen because otherwise, you’ll be living like this for the rest of your life. Do you seriously want that, Goten?”

I lick my lips, uncomfortable to how close he has come to the truth about me. Backing up inside his apartment, I close the door and stare at it. I almost jump when I feel his hand on my shoulder, instantly stilling my instinct to strike out physically.

“Just…come in. I don’t want you to leave angry with me.”

Half-closing my eyelids, I nod my head and push my shoes off before allowing him to lead me back to his living area. Sitting on his couch in my winter coat, I barely observe him as he backs away into his kitchen, lost in my thoughts about why I always end up pulled inside his plan to…help me.

Eventually, I feel the cushions shift as he sits next to me, handing me a mug of something warm.

“Coffee,” he says, as if I wanted to know.

“Why do you really care?” I ask suddenly

“Why do you think? I’ve been in your shoes. I know what it’s like to feel rotten, and it sucks. I wasted five years of my life wallowing in my own misery before I got a clue and it was because somebody showed me that I was…well, that I wasn’t as bad as I thought I was. I don’t want you to end up wasting five years of your life trying to figure that out. Nobody should have to go through it.”

“And it has nothing to do with…you know?” I ask, too embarrassed and uncomfortable with the fact that he admitted he likes me in…a sexual way.

He gives me slight smile before turning away to sink back into the cushions of his couch.

“No, not really. Well, I guess that is kind of a lie. I started watching you in the park when you began running because…well, you’re quite fit. But, I never thought about approaching you because of that. You never really came across as the kind of man who would reciprocate such a feeling. At least, not at first. But whatever. I usually read into that sort of thing too much.”

I let his assumption slide because it is the truth and it would be stupid to refute.

I take a sip of his coffee, which is stronger than my usual liking. Setting the mug down on the coffee table, I try to think of something to say since I’ve been reeled back inside his house.

“So you’re…um, gay?” I suddenly ask, knowing the question sounds pretty lame, especially considering I had my suspicions ever since first meeting him in the grocery store. To his credit, he only smiles before answering, ignoring my blush of embarrassment over my own ignorance.

“I prefer to be called homosexual, but yeah, I’m gay. Does that offend you? You seemed pretty pissed a few minutes ago.”

Well, I was…mostly because his confession of attraction led too closely to the heart of my own problems. That, and the fact that finally knowing another man likes me the way Trunks supposedly did is uncomfortable. It mirrors too closely my own feelings. I decide to try and clear the air.

“Um, I’m not offended. You, uh, aren’t the first man who’s liked me.”

I know my face has turned three shades darker because I can feel the heat of my blood rushing inside my cheeks, mortified that I just told him such an intimate secret. However, for some strange reason, I know that he isn’t going to canvas such a fact around school or the community because that wouldn’t follow what I’ve gleaned about his personality.

“Huh. Well…now that that’s out in the open, what happens next?”

I don’t really know. I still don’t trust him, yet I do. In my mind, such a thought represents an unsettling dichotomy, especially concerning why part of me does trust him.

Maybe it’s because for all his strangeness, he has so far avoided doing anything to hurt me, something I had gotten used to with Trunks. Whatever the case, I tell him I don’t know what to do.

He looks at me seriously.

“You’ll just have to learn to trust me when I say I have your best interests at heart. That’s what will have to happen next.”

I cock my eyebrow up at him, watching as he stands and moves to the other side of the coffee table, his arms crossed over his chest.

“And what exactly are my best interests?”

He immediately answers.

“To be happy with who you are and not to give a shit about what anybody else thinks. I think that’s your problem. You let people tell you what to do because you want approval. Well, the issue there is that no matter what you do, you will never please everybody. It’s an impossible situation. You’ve been trampled on a bit too much and something terrible happened that made you realize, I don’t know, a lot of the problems that you never really noticed but which have been plaguing you for as far back as you can remember. Well, I could be wrong about all of this, but I don’t think I am. Like I said, I’m talented at reading people and finding out what’s the reason for why they aren’t whole. At any rate, once you find happiness with who you are and forget ninety-nine percent of what the population thinks, you’ll be much better off.”

I stare at him as he throws his arms up and then steps around the coffee table to flop down on the couch next to me.

I look at him, watching his chest move as he breathes, taking in his eyes as they randomly flit to look at the ceiling while he thinks about something. Shifting on the sofa cushions, I sit up and put my hands on my knees, trying to put in perspective everything he said in his little speech.

I have to be happy with myself. I’ve known that for a long time. However, he’s right. I’ve always let what people think of me sway my decisions, more concerned with the status quo than with myself. Yet, it never really got me anywhere. I never grew and when I finally started to break away from that mold, I found myself more miserable than before. I want to tell him that, but I know he’s speaking the truth. I have to…find my own place of peace within myself, and once I do that, everything else will fall into place.

“So I’ll ask you again, Goten. What do you want?”

His question breaks my train of thought. Turning my head slightly, I glance over at where he’s sitting, his penetrating stare whittling away at my defenses. Finding an answer after a few seconds of thought, I mutter it aloud; ashamed at how easily I’ve been cowed by him and embarrassed over how simplistic my reply is.

“To be loved.”

He hears my response and I have a feeling he is surprised over a number of things, one being the speed and honesty in which I told him my deepest desire. Yet, all he does is nod his head in understanding, as if he knew that fact from the very beginning.

“Everybody wants to be loved. And I can give you that, if you accept it for what it is.”

I think about his statement and nod my head slowly in agreement. He can give me love, if indeed that feeling can ever exist between the two of us as friends. Yet, deep down inside, I know that isn’t the answer. The truth is, I do want to be loved…

…by Trunks.
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Another long chapter. I tend to write lengthy ones and until I feel that a satisfactory conclusion has been met, I won’t stop to begin another. I hope the flow of this chapter makes sense. I felt a bit foggy writing it. Let me know what you think, as always! Drop a review!