Warning! This fic is slightly dark, and has yaoi implications - that
means m/m sex is implied, so if that offends you stop reading now!
Everyone else, please continue!
Flames, criticisms, comments etc to rhionae@hotmail.com
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That smile of yours
I really *hate* your smile. You have no idea of just how close I come
to wiping that rotten grin off your face with my fist every time I see
it. And that�s every single day. Every fucking day of my life, just
about, you show up with that irrepressible grin better suited to a skull
devoid of living tissue and dark-bright eyes that twist my gut until I
need to throw up. That�s right - you make me sick, literally.
You give me nightmares too. Actually, they�d probably be more
nightmarish for you than for me. Unless you happen to like the idea of
having your heart ripped out of your chest and devoured with unholy glee
by your best friend in the whole wide world� No? Didn�t think so.
Pity.
But then you never did like hurting people. Fighting, yes, but not
hurting people. Heh, in some ways you�re just as twisted as I am. I
guess you get it from your father, that strange combination of ferocity
and na�ve gentleness; Dende knows I get it from mine. The twisted
personality, that is. Must come with Saiyajin genes. That, and power.
You�ve never really cared about that, have you? Or - no, you just
learned to shrug it off, didn�t you? You were the weakest of the
strongest. Not exactly an enviable position, but I would never have
forgiven you if you became more. Neither would my father. I get *that*
from him, too. But you seemed resigned to it - at least when I fought
�fairly�. Not that *you* ever did. But you never realized, did you?
You always were as na�ve as you father. Alright, maybe not quite *that*
bad, but still, you�d drive me up the wall at times. So many times.
You�re lucky you survived puberty more or less intact, do you know
that? Of course you wouldn�t. That�s the point. The point you don�t
get, the point I�m never going to get, it�s all the same in the end.
*You* don�t understand, so *I�ll* never get it. At least, not from you.
Want to know the strangest thing? My father understands.
I guess that was a big difference between us, when we were growing up.
You had a brother who cared for you, who understood you. I had a father
who couldn�t care less about me except when he was training me; but
still, he was a *father*. You were jealous of me for that - hell, you
still are, I can tell, especially now your own father�s gone again. I
was jealous of you, too. I may have had a father, but your brother
*understood* you, and *cared* for you. My father *understands* me now.
He even cares, in his own way - I guess that means I�m one up on you,
ne?
Face it, I�ve always been one better than you in everything: sparring,
school, money, looks� You�ve always been pissed that the girls look at
me first, haven�t you? With my appearance and my wealth I attract all
those brainless beauties you adore so much, like a picnic lunch attracts
flies. Guess what - I don�t like flies, I never have. I�ve always
found your taste in that area to be somewhat questionable.
Then again, mine�s a hell of a lot worse. I can�t have *who* I want, so
I�ll get *what* I want, from whoever�s willing. My father understands.
He�s willing, too. So are a lot of other people out there. You�d
probably be surprised to know how many. And what they�re willing to do,
to pay, to get what *they* want.
Want to know something funny? There�s something I want, something I
*need*, far more than any of that, and I�m willing to give up just about
anything to get it. But do you know what? It�s something I can�t buy
or trade for, something I can�t threaten or cajole anyone into giving.
I really hate that smile of yours, Goten. But without it, without you,
I�m barely half-alive.
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All comments to rhionae@hotmail.com