BY : Felix_McKraken
Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 1822
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of the characters. This was made purely for entertainment purposes and no profit is made off of it.


Stop. Click back on your browser. Find another fic to read because this one isn't the one for you. You'll read it. You'll probably hate it. It's confusing, and it doesn't make sense. It's tragically assembled over a period of time, so it is like assembling a jigsaw puzzle in the dark.

I'd like to pretend this story is deep, and meaningful, and all that. It's not, or, it could be. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Maybe it's a work of art, or maybe it's lacklustre. I don't know.

But you probably won't like it, so just go back now. Read something else. Save yourself some time.

Or not.

Nowhere: 1

Flinching, shaking, writhing in agony, he forced his palms flat against the ground and pushed himself up. He let out a grunt at the effort of such a seemingly simple task. Pain, while no stranger, was crippling him now. It caused the inconsequential questions to resurface: Why is this happening? How is this happening? How did I get here? Where is here?

The ground was painted with his blood - a splatter of rich crimson that looked grotesquely artistic. His throbbing head wound gently wept onto such an indifferent canvas, changing the design with each drop. He inhaled thick air into his deprived lungs while trying to ignore his body’s protests. In time, he managed to roll onto his side and eventually maneuvered into a sitting position. These movements were taxing, so he gratefully paused afterward to get a grip on his surroundings.

Shadow on shadow. Vast yet claustrophobic. Just the hint of shape and definition that described a sense of interior. He sighed, feeling how heavy and stagnant the exhale seemed.

Tentatively, he lifted his hand and applied pressure to his injury to staunch the flow of blood. Shame washed over him like the changing of the tide. Shame because this was another in a series of examples that reveled his weakness. Shame because his birthright was besmirched.

He closed his eyes.

This is just a dream, he told himself.


He fell asleep, and everything became a dream, because reality never functioned like this.

He wasn't on the run from anyone, and no one was out to get him. He wasn't stranded on a remote, alien planet. He wasn't by himself, dying. He wasn't in this place, where ever this place was.

He'd wake up, he told himself.
He'd wake up and all would be well.
He'd be the Prince of Saiyans training to be a Super Saiyan, again.
He would go back to Earth and defeat Kakarot.
Things would go back to the way they were.

If only he really believed that.

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