Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Thoughts on You ❯ Just a Friend ( Chapter 1 )

DISCLAIMER: I do not in anyway shape or form own any part of DBZ. It is the creation of Akira Toriyama and the property of FUNimation and Toei Animation. This story is solely for fun, duh, and I did not make money off of it, double duh.

 

 

Thoughts On You

By SureAndStrongAndSoon

 

You've never said you love me. Not once.

I know you say she's just your best friend. When I act jealous; you tell me she's just your buddy, just your “sister.” Then you take me to bed and make me forget my insecurities. And it works because you can do that sort of thing to me.

But I see the way you look at her. The way you smile and are infinitely more comfortable with her than me. Obviously what was once just friendship has blossomed into something else inside of you.

Money, intelligence, wit, social pull, aristocratic manners. What can I fight that with? A frying pan? Every time I think about it I laugh a little harder, a little more bitterly.

And she's a great beauty too. Do you long to run your fingers through that silky hair, to taste those cherry lips, to see her give you secret smiles?

I know I am not homely. I hold my own in the beauties of this world. But I am not her. I am the antithesis of her. Is that why you picked me, so that you wouldn't think about her? So you could get her out of your head? It didn't work, did it? You think I didn't hear that first time you laid hands on me. You think I didn't hear you breathe her name as you began to know me. When did you figure out I could never replace her? Did you think our child's birth would change you? Were you surprised when it didn't? Or did you figure it out right off but kept me around because she wasn't interested?

Yes I know I tricked you into marrying me. I'm glad you never bring it up even when I harp at you. You know how it would wound me and you refrain. Sometimes I wish you would, so I could explain. You see there are things you have to understand about what I thought love was. Then, when I married you, I didn't care. I just wanted your touch; I thought I could get your heart in time. But that time never came.

I know that you would never be with her. You could never dream of being anything but faithful to me, at least physically. Even if I died, you would not pursue her. It is a fruitless venture. She is in love with her husband and him with her. Any fool can see that.

Your longing got worse after you found out about her son. Before then, she was relatively single. Not yours but not anybody else's. You could have me and dream of her without feeling guilty. But then someone else figured out how great she was. An enemy, a rival.

Are you jealous of him? You've bested him in every way . . . but with her yet maybe that's why you've strived so hard to be better. Does it bother you that she chose a murderer over you, the savior of the world? Does is bother you that she is so much his that she has changed him? Do you ever think he is better than you? He's done so many things you couldn't. Loved her, touched her, slept beside her, lived with her, had children with her. When you spar, do you hit a little harder when you think about her and about those hands you're fighting will go home to hold that body?

Did you know I envy them too?

I covet their closeness. The way she puts a hand on his shoulder as they stand around casually with us. The way he smirks when she does. The way they find some excuse to leave right away. Even married they are more than husband and wife - they are lovers.

I know you love your boys. But I've seen you when you observe her son and now her new daughter. That look of longing out of the corner of your eye. The light sigh you sigh. What might have been. . .

You leave me so often. Getting yourself killed or training; it feels the same. I have no hold over you. I know you're fighting the good fight. But sometimes I wonder . . . if she was yours, would you put yourself in so much danger all of the time? If it were her arms you were coming home to, would you hurry your training?

I am the mother of your children, the woman who shares your bed every night, who feeds you, who cares for you, who bandages you, who smiles just for you, who loves only you forever and ever.

And yet I am not her and that is all that matters.

“ChiChi!”

“Huh, what?” I turn to you. You smile back. Give me your heart, I beg with my eyes. You refuse.

“You zoned out there for awhile. Sure smells good in here,” your smile grows bigger. You stomach rumbles and you are little disconcerted as you look at it. I giggle like I'm twelve again.

“We have the house to ourselves?” I question realizing now how quiet it is.

“Yep! All this yummy food to myself,” you say with greed. Always about the food. I smile. I give up. I'm happy just to please you for now. I don't need anything else.

We sit across the table from one another. You're inhaling the meal but I'm just pushing the food around my plate. Suddenly the sounds of consumption stop. I look up and you're staring at me.

“There's something I want to say.” You sound so excited to tell me whatever it is.

“Oh,” I tilt my head. I love the sound of your voice. I'll listen to anything to hear it even if you are about to tell me every detail of training today. But there's something about your eyes. You look strange, different.

“I love you, Chi,” you say with an honesty I've never heard before. My throat closes up and tears come to my eyes, “It's always been you for forever and ever, no one else.”

 

A/N: Originally the ending was much, much sadder but I figured I should give them a chance since they aren't written about that often.