BY : Felix_McKraken
Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 1872
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.

Nowhere: SIXTEEN

Cradling his broken flesh, he pushed himself up off the ground. Though disoriented, he was aware that an unavoidable occurrence was drawing nearer, punctuating its foreboding mass. He forced down the pointlessness just like he was swallowing his own blood.

Eyes opened in order to find how vision faired. The darkness made it nigh impossible to tell. Nausea was induced when his head swam. Everything hurt so much he felt like throwing up organs.

He collapsed to the floor that was both sticky and slick at once. Shock was fading from his system, but it was replaced by vertigo. Staring up felt so much like staring down.

His throat constricted while choking on a sound.

What was happening? Was it his time? He wondered what he meant by time anyway.

What was keeping him alive? Keeping him together?

Self identity was lost alongside the dissipation of optimism. Fleeting ideals and expectations of life winked out of existence, leaving behind a sensation of dishonesty. The betrayal of this crypt, this morgue, this tomb only further instilled the disconnection.

A dream, a fantasy, or a hallucination. The difference was unimportant.

Painfully, yet numbing, the inky blackness crept over him, through him, in him. The blood was forgotten and replaced by a cold that ate at his innards. Torturous freedom ate at him, preserving, killing, reinventing. Freedom of the most divine sort, unparalleled in its brutality. Gone were the inhibitions. Gone were the responsibilities. With nothing to spare and nothing to claim, he was freer than he thought possible. But at what cost? The denial of normalcy?

What was normal?
What was this?

In the darkness, he shifted.

In opposition, the air condensated around him.

The sharp tang of blood invaded his nostrils. Was it his own? Yet how could it be if he wasn't injured?

"Shut up, Vegeta."

It was fainter than a whisper, like the way you hear in a dream. He opened his mouth to reply, but it felt like his voice had congealed.

"If you think this is something to be proud of, you're gonna learn."

He could no longer differentiate if his eyes were open or not.

"You're gonna pay... someday..."

He would make pretend he was who he said he was. At least, that would bide him some more time. But he knew that soon enough he would need an escape route. A neutral position would only cause him to be truly lost.

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