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A solid, still white trainer scuffed the ground. The sound of it grated across the landscape, as if the air itself was making a personal effort; making sure it would end up in Piccolo’s ear. The hum of electronics, small yet potent electrons making their merry way across a potential difference somewhere deep inside Eighteen’s form, made his antennae twitch. Like it always did. Although he would be lying if he didn’t welcome the disturbance. As predictably annoying as Gohan’s young, screeching voice had once been.
Except his voice now had a deeper tone to it, a sad seriousness from a lifetime of unwanted warfare. It cracked when he had spoken his vows, making Videl shed a tear, and his mother sob uncontrollably. The whole affair had made him feel incredibly uncomfortable, and for many more reasons than he was willing to entertain at this precise moment. And as usual, Eighteen was here to talk about it anyway.
“You not having a drink big green?”
He knew full well that she was referring to alcohol, and on any other day the answer would have been a straight no. This was one of the few times he was contemplating giving the human condition of intoxication a big fat go.
“No”
Not that he would ever admit that. She narrowed her large bright eyes, knowing full well that this day was likely causing a number of problems for her tall Namekian friend. She was also certain that a large part of that problem would be in his black hole of emotional development, much like her own.
“Well, I brought some anyway”
She raised two glasses and a bottle of liquid that looked to Piccolo too much like urine for his comfort. The tree he leaned against did nothing to support his reluctance, and instead, provided perfect shadow and the gentle scent of sap in the breeze. He scowled at it.
Eighteen went ahead and poured two glasses, handing one to her surly friend. He didn’t move to take it. Seconds passed, too many, so many that Piccolo felt compelled to take the glass. Her smile was victorious, and her beautiful face lit up with it.
“It’ll make you feel better”
“I feel fine”
He huffed and would have continued his protest had he not been interrupted.
“I call Bullshit Namek”
Eighteen laughed, glad that Vegeta could join them. He cocked her a smirk on his arrival, his neat black suit looking entirely out of place. She knocked back her shot of rum and poured one for the Saiyan, ignoring his look of disgust at sharing the glass with her. Her face didn’t betray her mirth one bit.
“Don’t worry, this doesn’t make us friends”
He actually laughed, a rare hearty sound that made Piccolo think that this wasn’t his first drink of the evening. Vegeta looked at the taller man’s gi, weighted turban and cape with contempt. It irked him to have dressed up when the Namek was getting away with comfort.
“You could have dressed for the occasion”
He looked momentarily perplexed, and Vegeta could almost hear the dark ‘I am dressed’ look in the Namek’s eyes. He smirked, and Piccolo, out of indignation, and partially because he felt like he genuinely needed it, swallowed his rum. It seared down his throat, making him feel entirely unpleasant and he sneered at the tiny little glass. He supposed it did serve as a distraction, but hardly saw the appeal otherwise. He held it out for a second, even as the heat burned his chest. A few rums later, Vegeta and Eighteen sat down on the warm grass, quietly breathing in the spring air. Piccolo remained standing, leaning against the tree that was probably hundreds of years old and he peered up into its canopy. It had probably witnessed thousands of weddings, each one impossibly important to the humans at the time, but he felt that it was paying special attention to him. Like it had noticed this sad soul lingering beneath it. He shook the odd thought from his mind and clenched his jaw as Gohan walked over. His wide grin and rosy cheeks made Piccolo’s head swim with so many emotions he’d sooner drown than name them all.
He was so happy for Gohan, truly, so why did he feel so miserable? The pudgy kid had grown into a fine young man and had his whole world ahead of him and all of it entirely appropriate. Entirely deserved, and all of it taking him further and further away. Away from those days of isolated hope and the dreadful consequences of a small child who had tried so hard to save the world. Piccolo had been friends with loneliness for so long and had been able to ignore it well enough, that he had forgotten how lingering it would be. Maybe it was because he hadn’t expected this day to come, maybe he had thought that his adopted son would never grow up.
W.