Series: Dragonball Z
Couplings: Unrequited Piccolo/Gohan
Notes: This is, ladies and gentlemen, my first shounen ai/yaoi story. It spawned a monster, but I still think it's not all that bad. Enjoy!
November 2, 129 years AG....After Gohan-
Well, you made it here, to this little page, hosting my little writing, my journal, my autobiography. Let me tell you right off the bat that this is not a happy story. Not by a long shot, kiddo, it's not one of those "Oh, how cute!" stories that makes you feel toasty from your ears to your toes, or one of those "Ooo, beautiful!" ones that you humans are so fond of. My story (not much of one) is a pretty lousy one at that, and I'm just warning you in advance...Don't be mad at me. Don't hate me, I could say, but if you want to hate me, that's just fine. You wouldn't be the first, nor the last, to feel like that.
I just found myself a computer and started writing, straight from me to you, my fans.
You see, I am Piccolo. Demon king, mighty, strong, ancient warrior....Well, my dad was. I'm nothing like that, I'm a fighter, sure, but I lack purpose. I follow the saiya-jin around like a lost puppy, they show me what to fight for and I throw punches like a mechanical toy...That's what I am. A toy.
By the way, I'm also in love, and that's what this story is really about.
Now, love, as I've experianced it, is possibly the worst thing anyone can ever feel. If I had the choice between falling in love again and bathing in raw sewage, I would take the second option without even thinking about it, and I would advise you to do the same. Sewege, stains, stench, it all wears away in the grand scheme of things. Give yourself a week and you're top of the line again, people won't even wrinkle their noses at you when you pass.
Love lasts forever, and you can't ever escape it once you've fallen.
You must realize, human-reader, that when I say 'fallen', I mean really, truly, honest-to-god fallen. I don't mean the 'love' you kids feel when you're about to ask that really cute girl in your english class to the next school dance, or the 'love' that sparkles in your eyes while he hands you the valentine you've been praying for during the last three weeks, not at all. I'm talking about laying everything you are down on the line for one special person.
I've done it, in my own stupid, headstrong, failure of a way.
Sometimes I lay out next to the embers of my dying campfire and wonder if the reason we will never be together is because I'm such a demon, such a monster, and he's an angel, perched up in heaven. I really have fallen, I suppose. I can never touch him, he's too high above me. Demon an angel...unholy love that was never meant to be...
Oh, yes. Pick your jaw up off of your keyboard- I said 'he'.
Right now, I know what you're thinking- either you're making a disgusted face and wondering if your parents are reading this over your shoulder, or you're bouncing up and down and wiggling your fingers in anticipation of a good yaoi lemon scene later on in the story.
First of all, all you option one people, don't worry about your parents. They're off doing the parenty things that you humans do so often, the things that make your life stable and steady though you don't even notice it. ..Dad's cutting the grass or shoveling snow out in your neat front yard, your mom is probably reading a book or cooking up a lunch for you and whatever siblings you may be blessed with having. You should be able to smell it any minute now, wafting up from the stairs behind you, so if that's the way you feel, turn from this story and go eat.
If you're in the other category, I can't exactly please you either. That's just the way I am, I can't make anyone happy even if I try. There's no sex scene in my story, nothing you need to minimize until only one line of text shows, and then cover it with another window just in case your room mate walks in while you're reading a particularly gooey line- who knows what window is your safety precaution, probably 'www.ilovecheese.com' or some other trashy, moronic page.
Don't get me wrong, I'd love to tell you that kind of story, but let's face it, it's not gonna happen.
I am Piccolo, and I am alone.
If you're still here, still reading, I guess I can go on telling you about my experiance with love. I can tell you about Gohan, and Videl, and Pan, and why I'm here, alone, in a cave the middle of the woods on a frosty night with a computer, a bottle of sake, a damned uncomfortable chair and a will to write.
So here goes nothing...wish me luck, human.
Piccolo folded his arms and closed his narrow eyes, sighing once and pushing himself into nothingness. Meditation was the calmest time of his life, when he sat still and firm in the frigid weather and blanked his mind...
He lost himself in his dreams. It was a time of peace, where he could slip away from the mess his life had become in recent weeks. 'Calm, slip away from desires, he who wants nothing cannot be disappointed,' the namekusei-jin reminded himself quietly. Everything melted away, the fears, the emotions, the terror of discovery, until there was only Piccolo, his soul, and the whipping wind.
A few snowflakes settled on his massive muscular arms, then melted into oblivion. Life, he reflected, was much like those snowflakes. Each one was complicated and different, and they all wound up as the exact same thing- a puddle of nothingness.
Without warning a twig crunched behind him, the snapping noise was followed by a clumsy thump and a wet squish. Piccolo sighed, tore himself from his meditation, and stood up, knowing without a word who was present.
Gohan was there, sprawled backwards in the piled snow, the branch he had tripped on painfully obvious to Piccolo as he stared down at the boy.
Black hair speckled with white, steadily melting dandruff, Gohan opened his eyes looked up, embarrassed, at hs mentor. He was growing so quickly, sometimes it was hard for the namekusei-jin to believe this young man was really the Gohan he had learned to love so well. One word out of his mouth, though, and Piccolo's doubts were stolen away... "Pikoro-san..."
Gohan lifted himself up jerkily, his muscles hardening and growing broader everytime Piccolo saw him. He was literally growing like a weed, Chi-chi couldn't believe her baby- well, her first baby- was growing almost a half an inch every month. Piccolo couldn't believe it either, and it made things all the more complicated. Loving was hard enough to hide, but wanting....
The saiya-jin boy had been coming to Piccolo more and more often in these last few months since Gokou died in the battle against Cell. Maybe he found something he needed here with his mentor, and that twisted in Piccolo's chest whenever he thought about it. Needed. Gohan needed him, and somehow, Piccolo accepted that, and began counting on the boy's almost daily visits as something in life that he would always have, something as sure-fire as the falling snow that was speckling his dark gi as they stood there regarding each other. They meant that much to him.
Somehow, during the long months, Gohan would cry on his shoulder after a long, tiring round of sparring, Piccolo's need for the boy turned into love, wanting, emotions the older man had long tried to squash. Instead of the old dreams of world domination filling his nights, a young black-haired boy started