Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Broken Road ❯ Chapter 5 ( Chapter 5 )

Chapter 5

On Monday morning, Trunks and Goten had college algebra together. It was pretty much the same math class that Trunks had in his freshman year of high school, so it wasn't much of a challenge for him. While most of the kids in the class seemed to be nervously scanning last week's notes, he was scanning the room for Goten.

He had planned to try to talk to him before class, but the youngest Son walked in five minutes after the start time. Trunks had saved a seat for him, but he noticed with annoyance that he had competition. The blond girl who'd introduced herself the other day was sitting in the front of the room and she waved Goten over right away. To his credit, the younger boy did turn around almost immediately after sitting down to scan the faces behind him for his Saiyan friend. When his eyes settled on Trunks, the lavender-haired demi mouthed, “meet me after class?” and Goten nodded.

Trunks attempted to focus on the subject at hand, but it was nothing more than a review to him. So he spent most of the class time watching Tiffany interact with Goten. She was constantly leaning over and whispering to him and Trunks didn't like how close it required her lips getting to his ear. Several eyes turned to look at him when the pencil he was holding none too delicately cracked between his clenched fingers.

“Oops . . . sorry,” he mumbled, and someone nearby was nice enough to hand him another.

But he did notice with something akin to pleasure that Tiffany didn't seem to understand any of the problems. She was continuously erasing what she'd written, questioning Goten, and then staring up at the professor with big, confused green eyes. Trunks found himself imagining what it would be like to stab them out with his new pencil. But he settled instead for raising his hand and easily answering all of the questions that left her blinking and dumbstruck. In the end, he found it a satisfying way to pass the time.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, class was over. Trunks noticed gratefully that Tiffany had stayed afterwards to talk to the professor and he raced into the hall, hoping to catch Goten alone.

“Trunks, are you okay?” Goten asked with concern as his friend approached him. “You weren't in class on Friday and Gohan said you were sick.” His brow crinkled with worry.

“Oh, yeah,” Trunks waved it off. That seemed like ages ago, now. “I'm fine. Listen, Goten, can we talk?” he asked with urgency. Blue eyes implored dark brown.

“Yeah, I think that we need to,” Goten answered quietly. “But—.”

At that moment, Tiffany skipped out of class and sidled up next to him. “Hey!” Her cheerful voice shattered the heavy air that seemed to have settled around the other two. But she was oblivious to the fact that she'd interrupted.

“Um, hi, talking here.” Trunks acknowledged her only long enough to dismiss her. Then, he turned back to Goten, opening his mouth to speak. But before he could, she cut in again. Her social graces were decidedly nonexistent.

“Um, well, okay,” she continued, addressing Goten. “But um . . . I was just gonna ask if you wanted to get lunch again today?”

Again? Trunks raised a lavender eyebrow.

“After talking with the professor, I think I finally understand that problem that was bothering us in class. Maybe we could, like, grab some food and talk about it.” She smiled and blinked her vacant green eyes. Trunks markedly rolled his blue ones.

But, as was happening all too often lately, Goten seemed to have a different idea. “Yeah, that sounds great, Tiffany. Thanks.” Then, turning to Trunks, he asked “Do you want to join us? Come on, you must be hungry.”

Trunks could barely contain his revulsion. Did he want to join them? Since when did he, Goten's best friend, become the third wheel in this situation?

Still, he reasoned, at least it would give him a chance to see Goten for awhile. And he could probably get rid of this girl eventually and then they could talk.

“Lead the way,” he said, making a valiant effort to conceal his annoyance. As the two boys followed a short distance behind the blond co-ed, Trunks tugged Goten closer by the shirt sleeve. “What's with her?” he whispered, gesturing at Tiffany.

“Oh, well, she was the only other person in class whose name I knew. So when you weren't here on Friday, I went and sat with her,” he whispered in answer. “She's really nice,” he assured Trunks after noticing the skeptical look on his face.

“And about as interesting as a pile of rocks.” Then Trunks yelped as Goten jabbed him in the side.

Once the three were settled in the student center with several trays of mystery meat that the school tried to pass off as hamburger, Goten and Tiffany wasted no time pulling out their algebra textbooks. Trunks watched in mild amusement as Tiffany tried to help Goten figure out one of the problems that had apparently given them trouble in class.

Finally, after attempting to distract himself by repeatedly glancing around the cafeteria, playing with his hair, and even bravely trying some of the mystery meat, Trunks couldn't hold his tongue any longer.

“So you said you talked to the professor about these problems, right?” He feigned interest.

“Yes.” She nodded solemnly.

“And you're sure it was the math professor you talked to?”

She nodded again.

“So, tell me, Tiffany.” He spoke as though to a child. “Did they just let you skip directly to college from the third grade? Or, how does that work exactly?”

“Shut up, Trunks,” Goten warned. He noticed Tiffany's delayed reaction as her befuddled expression turned to anger and he quickly attempted to turn the awkward situation into an opportunity. “Hey, since you're so smart, maybe you would like to join our study group. We were talking about starting one because it seems like this class is gonna be really hard.”

“Oh, sure,” he said. “I mean of course I'll help you, Goten.” His voice was intense in its sincerity. “You know I will! But just come home and study with me and Gohan. I mean, honestly, this study group idea”—he glanced in Tiffany's direction, then lowered his voice only slightly— “it sounds like the blind leading the blind to me.”

Tiffany stood up from the table. “Goten, I'm leaving! I know you said this guy is your best friend, but I'm sorry, he doesn't seem very nice!” She glared at Trunks and then turned to walk away.

“Finally!” Trunks celebrated. “I thought we'd never be rid of her.” But when he looked across the table at Goten, the younger boy's eyes were pained. And then he stood up, too.

“Trunks!” He was annoyed. “What are you doing?”

“You a favor,” Trunks replied.

Goten growled. “How am I ever supposed to get a girlfriend with you around alienating everybody we meet?”

“Pfffttt!” Trunks covered his mouth to avoid spitting out the soda he'd been drinking. “Girlfriend?!” he gasped. Then, managing with some difficulty to swallow the rest of his drink, he laughed in earnest. “Goten, what in the world are you on?”

“Look, you don't know everything about me, Trunks. You may think you do, but you don't.”

“Yes, I know, Goten. You have lots of deep and profound feelings. You can fill me in on all of them later tonight. You're coming over, right?”

“Ugh, you're impossible!” Picking up his books, he turned abruptly to walk away. He couldn't deal with Trunks when he was like this. When they had been younger, he had let the older boy push him around too much, but he planned to put an end to that. He did have feelings, and he would find someone who appreciated them.

Though it was clear Trunks wasn't going to let him go that easily. As Goten stalked across the student center, a firm hand on his wrist stopped him in his tracks. He turned with a start to face Trunks.

“Goten.” His voice was pleading this time. The widest pair of blue eyes sparkled with emotion, where only a second ago they had been shining with detached amusement. “What's happening to us?”

“Please don't do this,” Goten begged. He did need to talk to Trunks. They needed to talk badly, but it would be an emotional ordeal and he wasn't ready to face it right there, right then. He begged his friend not to make him do it.

Not that there was any good time or place for such conversations. Which was why he had put it off for so, so long.

“Do what? What am I doing wrong, Goten? Just tell me.”

The younger boy only shook his head and sighed. There were so many things he needed to say, but where to start? “Alright, listen, I'll come over tonight, okay? We can talk then.”

“Okay.” Trunks smiled. “Go chase after your girlfriend. I'll see you tonight.”

***

Several hours later, Goten landed softly on the balcony outside Trunks' room. It was just beginning to get dark out, and he could see his friend's gray silhouette in the softly lit room, framed by the gauzy curtain that hung over the large glass doors. Trunks was lying on his bed, one hand supporting his chin, while the other was writing rapidly in a textbook that lay in front of him.

Goten knew that his best friend had already sensed his ki, or else he would have been tempted to turn and run. But since it was too late for that, he just took a deep breath. And before he had a chance to think over for the millionth time what he was about to do, Trunks was standing there in the glass, holding the curtains aside. The glass seemed to Goten like an outward expression of the intangible barrier that had sprung up between them recently. But, unfortunately, it didn't go away when Trunks slid open the door.

“I have to talk to you,” Goten said breathlessly.

“Come in.” Trunks waved toward the place where he had just been studying. But when Goten looked behind his friend and saw the bed there, he knew he couldn't go inside. If he ended up on that bed with Trunks, he wasn't going to leave. And he had to leave.

“Unt-uh,” he said, shaking his head vigorously in the negative.

“What the fuck, Goten?” Trunks looked surprised. “I don't bite!”

“I just think it'd be better if I stayed out here,” he said. He was sure that, if he went in there, they wouldn't get much talking done.

“Fine.” Trunks gave in with a flippant wave of his hand. “Whatever.” Goten was so weird anymore, he might as well indulge his whims. “So, what are we going to talk about?”

But instead of speaking, Goten just stood there, looking incredibly lost. Trunks found it annoying and adorable all at the same time. He watched as the other's large, liquid brown eyes scanned the balcony distractedly and then came to rest on the ground. For a moment, Goten just stared at his own feet. He opened his mouth to say something, but then bit his bottom lip in hesitation. Trunks watched him nibble on his own lip then open his mouth to speak again. Those plump, luscious, ruby red lips. Pale, iridescent skin. Long lashes fluttering in distress. Already, he had lost interest in whatever Goten had planned to say. He closed the distance between them and joined his body with his friend's, winding his arms tightly around the narrow waist.

This felt right. How could Goten not feel it, too?

The older demi noticed with relief that the other boy didn't protest the contact. Then he realized a part of him had thought that he might. That nagging feeling that he didn't know Goten as well as he used to was bothering him again. He just wanted everything to be the way it was before. When they were so in synch that people thought they shared a psychic connection. But there were still some things he did know about his friend.

He knew just exactly where to find that spot on his neck, right below his earlobe, which drove him completely mad. He knew how to tease him with his lips, so that his words would give way to low moans. Almost without thinking, Trunks kissed him there now, as he pondered how they could have somehow grown apart when he had done everything in his power to keep them close together. Grazing that same tender spot lightly with his teeth, he was aware of the feeling of his friend's body becoming heavy in his arms, relaxing and yielding to him. He loved the way that felt. He traced the underside of Goten's ear with is tongue and heard the familiar, soft sigh that his ministrations always elicited. Then he felt Goten's hand on his chest.

“No, Trunks,” he said quietly. “Don't.”

Trunks swallowed all of the feelings of fear and desperation that leapt into his heart at those few small words. It was a quiet plea, but full of conviction. Something about his tone took away the last hope Trunks now realized he'd been clinging to: that he could change Goten's mind. It was as if he knew right there in that moment that he had lost Goten, and the whole world seemed to get a few degrees colder.

He lingered a moment longer against his friend's neck to regain some of his composure before pulling away. By the time he stood back, facing his other half on the balcony, his expression was unreadable. But he could tell from Goten's pained features that he hated the cold night air that swirled in and enveloped him where Trunks warm lips and hands had just been. Yet stubbornly, Goten didn't move.

They remained like that for an inordinate amount of time. It felt like a stand off. Trunks was watching with interest the war that was going on behind those enormous brown eyes. The eyes seemed to implore him. They wordlessly asked, What should I do?

But that was a question that the older boy couldn't answer for his friend. Of course, he wanted to say, `Stay, Goten. Stay tonight. Stay forever. Don't you ever leave me. Don't you dare, you jerk!' But it wouldn't mean anything if Goten didn't make the choice for himself. So Trunks was silent.

Then he noticed something else. Something besides just sadness and confusion in those dark orbs.

“Goten,” he said, tentatively. “Your eyes, they always give you away.” The younger boy blinked up at him. And, yes. There it was again. Unmistakable this time. Guilt.

Trunks took a step forward, peering closer at his friend. With genuine curiosity he asked, “What did you do, Goten?”

The other boy closed his eyes and took a breath. How the fuck does he always do that? He wondered. He should have known by now that he couldn't hide anything. “I—kissed her—I kissed Tiffany.”

If Trunks was surprised, his face didn't show it. Even for a split second. He just crossed his hands over his chest. His eyes were burning holes into Goten again. “It happened today, at the library,” the younger boy sputtered. “I don't know why. I just—I just did it.”

To him, it seemed like an hour passed before Trunks answered. “That's too bad.” He spoke slowly and with deliberation. “I do not share, Goten.”

“What `share'?” Goten shot back. “I don't belong to you!”

“Oh, yes, you do. And I belong to you. That's the way relationships work.” Had he not gotten the memo? Had he really failed to grasp this little nuance of the human experience? Trunks wondered. “Do you think you can just go around doing whatever you want, whenever you want, with whomever you want?”

“Relationship?” Goten sounded as if he was caught off guard. “But . . . you're my best friend. We're not in a relationship.”

“Goten, are you retarded? You think I'm just your best friend?” Trunks asked with mocking disbelief. “You don't think maybe I'm a little more than that?” He held up his right hand in a fist and then squeezed his thumb and forefinger together.

Goten crinkled his brow, looking for the right words. “You're my best friend . . . that I . . . occasionally—.” He cleared his throat. “—sleep with.”

“You are an idiot.”

“Okay, look!” Goten's fingers massaged his temples. All of this intensity was giving him a headache. “I know we're more than friends. I know that.” He shook away the confusion for a moment and looked deeply into the other's blue eyes. “And Trunks, I love you. I really do. More than anything. But I just—lately there's been this little voice inside my head . . . .”

“That sounds like a personal problem, Goten.”

His friend ignored the comment and continued. “It's telling me I need to figure out who I am without you, Trunks.”

With those words, he had finally managed what he had been trying to say for days. And what he had known for much longer. “You're all I've ever known. And you're amazing. But . . . I just don't think it's healthy to be so completely dependent on another person.” He didn't know which one of them was more dependent on the other. But he was sure they both needed a break. “I feel like—like I don't even know myself without you. I define myself by you. And I don't always like what I see.”

Trunks looked rather shaken. He looked like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Goten watched his friend's eyes as they worked through various stages of emotion, from disbelief to something almost like understanding and then finally to anger.

“That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!” he yelled. “If you love someone, you don't leave them!” And then it all came tumbling out. “And thanks a lot for telling me this now! I gave up everything to come here with you.” He gestured behind Goten towards the campus of their school. “When, apparently, you don't want me here at all. And don't even think about trying to blame this on me because I've done everything I can think of to make you happy, Goten, and you still aren't. I don't know what the hell you want.”

“But, Trunks, I never asked for any of those things,” his friend reminded him quietly.

Goddammit, he thought. He hated it when Goten actually had a point.

“And,” the other boy continued, “I'm not sure of what I want either. That's what I'm trying to figure out. But I don't want to waste your time while I do that.”

“Waste my time?” A small sob was torn from Trunks' throat against his will. “Oh yeah,” he said, his voice wavering with emotion. “Because there are so many other people out there that I could be with if I wanted to.”

“There are,” Goten assured him.

“I don't care! I don't want any of them. I want you!” His voice was quieter when next he spoke; almost a whisper. He wasn't looking at Goten anymore and the younger boy thought maybe he was talking to himself. “I chose you, Goten.”

But what he didn't say hung between them as heavily as what he did say. The sentiment was clear enough. Trunks had been so kind as to bestow his coveted affection on Goten and Goten had turned his back on it. The words belied the unmistakable sense of entitlement that Trunks had been entertaining and both boys realized it.

`I chose you and you should be grateful.'

“I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, Trunks.”

“Ugh!” he growled. “Just go away.” When Goten hesitated, Trunks repeated his order. “LEAVE!”

With one more quick glance at his friend, Goten lifted soundlessly off the balcony and his form soon receded into the sky above the city. It was the final, parting blow to Trunks' heart that he didn't even try to stay and comfort him. Or remotely attempt to beg forgiveness. Clearly he was finished with Trunks. It was over and he had already moved on.

The teen prince was outraged. He stormed back into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He was only vaguely aware of the sound of shattering glass as he raced into the hallway. The new object of his fury stood there in the living room, in Trunks' sights like a deer in headlights.

He stalked angrily down the hall towards his roommate. “Your brother is an ASSHOLE!” And with an angry grimace, he pounded both fists on Gohan's chest. But the older man caught him in a tight embrace before he could do much damage. He watched silently as the anger marring Trunks' delicate features melted into sadness. Then his eyes began to shine with moisture and he buried his face in his hands just in time to hide the tears.

“Trunks.” Instinctively, Gohan wrapped his arms around the now sobbing boy. He held him very tightly, somehow irrationally hoping to stop the sobs that were shaking his body. He seemed surprisingly fragile in Gohan's arms. Not like the headstrong demi that Gohan knew.

But he understood what Trunks was going through, and it was the sort of thing that had the power to bring a strong man, even a powerful warrior, to his knees. Being rejected by the one he loved.

Gohan had been washing the dishes when he'd absently looked up and, through the kitchen window, saw the two boys on the balcony. He wouldn't have thought much about it except that they were standing so close. Indeed, he noticed Trunks' arms were around Goten's waist. There wasn't even an inch between them, and it had caught him off guard. Before he had a chance to think much on it, Trunks had kissed his brother. It was a very sensual kiss on the neck and Gohan had looked away, both embarrassed and confused.

Then, almost immediately he began to wonder how he hadn't realized it sooner. In about a second's time, a thousand images flashed in his mind of the two growing up together over the years. Of course, it was so obvious! He had been blind not to notice it. They had fallen for each other.

Or at least, Trunks had fallen for Goten. Because when he looked up again, his brother was pushing Trunks away. And Trunks looked completely shocked. He had never seen heartbreak written so clearly on someone's face. He knew then that Trunks must have told his brother how he felt only to learn that Goten didn't feel the same way. And Gohan could imagine how the young man in his arms must feel now.

For he knew from personal experience that there was no greater sense of abandonment than that which came with losing the one who meant everything to you. As if sensing that the shaking boy in his arms needed to hear it, he whispered, “I'm here, Trunks. It's okay. It's okay,” he repeated. “I'm still here.”