Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Broken Road ❯ Chapter 6 ( Chapter 6 )

Chapter 6

Gohan held tight to the distraught demi-Saiyan for a long time. Trunks' sobbing finally subsided into hiccupping, and eventually into only an occasional sniffle. He wiped his tears on the back of either hand without moving his forehead from Gohan's chest. He wished he could just stay there exactly as he was forever. Even this horrible moment frozen in time was better than the thought of having to extract himself from Gohan's arms and face what had just happened. Face the thought of moving forward in life without Goten.

He already knew that tomorrow getting through class would be damn near impossible. Goten would be there, of course. Probably sitting with his new girlfriend. And Trunks would be alone, relegated to staring at his life long friend and lover from across a room full of strangers. But he didn't even have the strength to worry about that yet. It seemed between now and then there would be a thousand impossible moments.

Everything in his bedroom reminded him of Goten. The younger boy's clothes strewn around the room and mixed with Trunks' own things; his tooth brush on the sink; his hair in the shower drain; the smell of him that permeated every thread of Egyptian cotton on Trunks' bed. The little things that served as comforting reminders of their friendship, he now feared because of the reaction they would evoke in him. He already knew that every time he caught a glimpse of Goten, he would have to relive that heart wrenching feeling that he had experienced for the first time in his life tonight on the balcony. It was that fear that glued him in place, causing him to linger against the other man far longer than he was probably welcome.

And of course there was the more immediate problem of explaining everything to Gohan. “You must think I'm crazy,” Trunks whispered hoarsely, when he had calmed down enough to speak.

Gohan petted Trunks' hair with one hand. “No, I don't,” he assured him quietly.

Trunks lifted his head and stared up at his roommate. His tanned face was flushed a bright pink and his cheeks were stained with tears. Gohan answered the questions that he could see reflected in his roommate's eyes. “I saw what happened on the balcony, Trunks,” he said. “From the kitchen. I was washing dishes . . . .” He trailed off, not sure how Trunks would feel about the fact that he'd witnessed the scene.

But Trunks was relieved. At least the ice was broken on the topic of him and Goten. “I guess you probably have some questions then,” he said, and laughed weakly at the thought of Gohan getting the surprise of his life while unsuspectingly doing housework.

“No, not really,” Gohan answered. He was as surprised as Trunks at the calmness in his voice. But he really didn't need for Trunks to explain to him what had happened. A split second after his initial shock at the kiss he had witnessed, his brain had quickly put together the pieces of the puzzle. Trunks loved Goten. For some reason, he wasn't really surprised to find that out. Perhaps he had seen the signs there many times over the years and simply hadn't recognized their significance.

Thinking about the two boys now, he could see how it had happened. Gohan knew better than anyone how hard it was to bring an outsider into this life. How difficult it was to have to hide your powers and your responsibilities from someone you wanted to be close to. And here, all along, these two boys had each other. Through thick and thin. Through the strange adventures of being a Saiyan and saving the world, right down to the mundane experience of going to college.

“What am I going to do?” The young man in Gohan's arms was trying hard to choke back a new torrent of sobs. “He's—. He's my—.” Trunks struggled to finish the sentence before collapsing onto the couch and giving in to the tears. “He's my whole life, Gohan.”

Gohan could feel his own heart break at the admission. Part of the emotion he felt was because Trunks' words brought back anew the pain of his own failed relationship. But most of the dull ache that was spreading through his chest was because the two people involved in this tragic love story were people that he cared about deeply. Seeing them suffer was far worse than suffering himself.

“Trunks,” he pled with the boy, kneeling down alongside the couch where his roommate had curled up. “Don't you think you two can still be friends? I know Goten, and he would never desert you, no matter what's happened between you guys. I know he would want to stay friends.”

“I can't.” Trunks shook his head. “He wants to but I just can't. With the way I feel—.” He closed his eyes and two fresh tears streaked down his glistening cheeks. “It's too hard to see him with somebody else.”

There was nothing more that Gohan could say. He was smart enough to know when words just wouldn't help.

Trunks let Gohan stroke his hair until he felt emotional exhaustion begin to overtake him. He was quickly learning that the only upside to being utterly miserable was that eventually his body wore itself out under the weight of its burden and he could look forward to the sweet nothingness of sleep. He felt his head begin to dip as his muscles relaxed.

Gohan watched Trunks' eyes flutter closed and then rocked back on his heels and sighed. He didn't know what in the world he could do to help the boys through this. It was a frustrating feeling not to be able to help his friends, as he had done so many times before. But this was a different enemy altogether.

He got up quietly, so as not to disturb Trunks, and made his way down the hall to towards the younger man's bedroom. Trunks had shattered the glass door to the balcony when he slammed it and bits of broken glass littered the floor. Some had scattered as far as his bed. A chilly breeze blew through the room, causing the curtains where the door had once been to billow out over the bed. It was an eerie sight. Gohan made a mental note to call the superintendent of the building first thing tomorrow, but there was no way Trunks could sleep in there tonight.

He shut the bedroom door tightly and returned to the living room. Trunks awoke with a start when he entered the room. “Don't worry, it's just me,” Gohan assured him. “Your, uh, your bedroom's kind of a mess,” he began. Trunks just blinked sleepy, red-rimmed eyes at him and Gohan figured he probably didn't even realize how hard he'd slammed the door. “Why don't you just go to sleep in mine tonight?”

Trunks nodded and let Gohan help him up from the couch. A few minutes later he was nestled into Gohan's bed, tucked between clean sheets which smelled freshly laundered and, to his great joy, not a think like Goten. He heard his roommate softly close the door and a few moments later, he submitted to drowsy darkness.

***

Gohan sat at his desk, trying to look over some notes for a meeting he had in the morning but there was way too much on his mind to be able to concentrate. Instead he walked over to the phone and called home.

“Hi Mom, is Goten there?” He waited patiently for Chichi to execute her usual tirade about how much she hated him living in the city. How he should move back home, and how he and Videl should try one more time to work things out. He resisted the urge to tell her that he was too old for her to be talking to him this way, and simply reiterated his request to talk to his brother.

“Yeah, I think he's here,” she said in an exasperated tone. “Not that I'd know the difference. The house might as well be empty when he's home, for all the conversation I have with him. What is it about teenagers these days, Gohan? They're so sulky and temperamental. You were never like that, were you, dear?”

“I guess not, Mom.”

“Go-TEN!” Gohan tore the phone away from his ear as, without warning, his mother shouted out her other son's name.

“I got it,” the younger boy said quietly, picking up the receiver.

“GOTEN, YOUR BROTHER IS ON THE PHONE!” Chichi screamed into the receiver, not realizing he had already picked up.

“Jesus Christ,” Goten swore under his breath. “I got it, Mom!”

Chichi gasped. “Do you hear the way he talks to me? I don't know where I went so wrong with him, Gohan. I just keep thinking it's because your father wasn't around during his formative years and you know it's a very important time for a young man—.”

“Would you give it a rest with that, Mom?” Goten cut in loudly, talking over his mother. “My formative years were just fine because I had Gohan and he was a better father than dad ever—.”

“You stop right there, young man,” she warned sternly.

“Mom, cut him a break today, okay?” Gohan requested softly. “I really need to talk to him alone. Please.”

“Fine,” she grudgingly agreed. “But you know no one ever calls to talk to me. I have no idea what's going in my boys' lives. It's very hard for a mother you know—.”

They both heard the soft sounds of their father's voice consoling Chichi and then a distinct click, after which there was just silence.

Gohan mentally thanked his dad. Then his thoughts turned back to his brother, the real reason he had called.

“Wow, Gohan,” Goten said, his voice sincerely grateful. “Thanks for that.”

“No problem, little bro. I know she can be a pain when you're already stressed out. I just wanted to call to see if you're okay,” Gohan informed him.

“Um, yeah, I'm fine.” He cleared his throat. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Goten, um, I saw what happened earlier,” Gohan informed him. “With Trunks . . .” he added, so there wouldn't be any confusion.

Goten was silent a moment. “You did?” he asked stiffly. “Well, what exactly, uh . . .”

“Enough to know that you might need to talk.” Gohan wanted to spare his brother as much awkwardness as possible. “I just want you to know that I care about you both a lot, and I'm here if you need me.”

“Thanks, Gohan.” He sounded relieved but also hesitant. “I don't really wanna talk about it though. But, I think Trunks . . . he might need . . . .”

“Yeah. He's pretty upset.”

“I didn't mean to hurt him, Gohan.”

“I know, little bro.”

“Just, I dunno, don't worry about me, but . . . keep an eye on him for me, would ya?” Goten asked softly. His voice wavered. “I don't think he wants me around anymore.”

“Well, try to understand how hard this is for him. He told me that you're his whole life.”

Both were silent for a moment. Trunks had never said that to Goten, and this was the first time he was hearing it. That troublesome question of whether or not he had done the right thing tormented him. But he couldn't bring himself to open up to Gohan.

They just didn't talk about things like this. Even when Gohan had announced that he and Videl were separating, Goten only mumbled `If you ever need to talk . . . .” and Gohan had awkwardly thanked him but never took him up on the offer. Although they remained close as they'd gotten older, both of them had tacitly accepted the fact that they didn't talk about girls, relationships, or sex. It was probably because of the age difference. And by the time Goten was old enough to care about sex, he'd started fooling around with Trunks and both boys had decided that it was better kept a secret.

For whatever reason, it wasn't something he felt comfortable discussing with his brother. So he only said weekly, “I miss him, Gohan.” Then his voice broke. “I wish we could find a way to stay friends.”

“I'm sure in time you will,” his brother reassured him. But as the conversation had become strained, Goten wanted to get off the phone.

“Thanks for calling,” he said.

“Anytime,” Gohan responded.

After he'd hung up, he felt a little better knowing Goten was okay. But he still didn't have any idea how to help Trunks. He went to the closet and grabbed a spare blanket and pillow from the shelves. But then again, he realized as he laid them out on the couch, Trunks' situation was not so different from his own. Gohan acknowledged he was letting gender issues and his closeness to both boys cloud his judgment. Heartbreak was heartbreak after all. No matter the parties involved. And Gohan knew a thing or two about heartbreak.

He was Trunks' friend. And that was what he had to offer.

***

The next morning, the demi-Siayan prince awoke with a heavy weight on his heart. He found it amazing the way emotions managed to wreak havoc on his physical body. It took all his strength just to sit up and slide his feet onto the floor. He was dreading having to face this first day alone.

He made his way out into the dining room where Gohan had warm crepes and fresh fruit waiting. They ate in relative silence but Trunks realized how glad he was that Gohan now knew what was going on. It was a huge relief not to have to hide everything. He couldn't even imagine how the feeling of loneliness would have been magnified if he had to suffer in seclusion, without another person who knew him to share it with.

After breakfast, Gohan said his goodbyes and left for work, assuring Trunks that if he needed anything, he should call, and Trunks made his way into his own bedroom to dress. He was surprised at the scene of destruction that awaited him there until, in a flash of lucidity, he remembered having slammed the glass door the night before. Right after Goten had—.

He felt his heart drop in his chest. But no. He would not be a victim of his own dismal thoughts. He shook his head as if that would help rid his brain of the awful memory.

Ignoring the scene in his bedroom, he made his way first to the bathroom to wash, and then to his closet. He picked out a pair of grey straight-leg chinos and a white button-down shirt. Finishing the outfit with a black fitted v-neck sweater, he inspected himself in the mirror. He was happy with what he saw. The outfit: a classic. The body: well, flawless. The hair? He smoothed it with his hands then carefully placed his unruly bangs over his eyes. There. Perfect.

Nothing like looking damn sexy to lift one's spirits. And if a certain ex-boyfriend should happen to notice, all the better.

Trunks slipped on a pair of black sneakers and threw a Capsule Corp. messenger bag over his shoulder, then headed with determination towards the front door. He had a lot to do this morning.

***

He was waiting at the door of the registrar's office at 9 a.m. when it opened. When he stepped inside he was greeted by a pleasant female student. “I need to change my classes around,” he told her.

“Okay,” she said cheerfully. “Just let me get your file.”

“Last name is Briefs, first name—.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

Trunks looked away uncomfortably. Although he loved being the center of attention in his own little world, it still put him on edge when strangers acted all star-struck around him. There were times when one simply wanted to be anonymous and he was quickly realizing he would never have that luxury. He supposed he had been rather sheltered, growing up at Capsule Corp., surrounded only by his family, the Z-warriors, and Capsule employees. He'd largely avoided interacting with anyone outside of that small circle, and he had gotten a reputation as being quite stuck up as a result. But he supposed that now, without Goten to hide behind, he would have to get used to it.

“Yes, here we are,” the girl cut into his thoughts, having located his file folder. “What class did you want to change?”

“All of them.”

“Oh,” she said, a bit surprised. “Well, here's the list of classes that are still open. I hope you can find five that interest you. There's not much left to choose from. ”

Trunks looked over the list and made a face. There really wasn't anything good left. But every class on the page did have one major advantage and, to him, everything else was an afterthought. Trunks circled a few of the least unpleasant choices.

The girl at the desk spoke up timidly. “Humanities 101 is a pretty good class. I mean, I'm in it,” she blushed again, “and I like it so far.”

Her face was so red by now, Trunks wondered how she had any blood left in her extremities. “Okay, thanks,” he said and circled Humanities 101. “That should do it.”

“I'll just enter these changes into the database and you can start your new classes today.”

He was happy that the process had been so easy. He had been worried that he'd be forced to remain in class with Goten, and he didn't think he could handle even one. A few seconds later, the girl handed him his new schedule, still warm from the printer. His first class started at 10 a.m.

Heading out the door, he strolled along the city streets that made up the WCU campus and became aware that it all looked somehow different today. Indeed, the campus felt more alien even than it had on the first day of the semester. He realized he was having a hard time orienting himself without his best friend there in that place by his side that was reserved especially for him. Trunks had heard that when a Saiyan lost his tail, it took him awhile to learn how to get around again without it. He felt Goten's absence like the loss of just such an appendage and was dizzy with the new perception.

“Trunks!” He heard someone call his name and, for a split second, hoped against hope to turn around and find his best friend there, calling out to him and smiling. Or any friendly face, for that matter. Even the familiarity in the way the person had called to him had been comforting, making him feel, for just one moment, less alone.

The young prince glanced sidelong in the direction of the voice, but instead of finding a familiar face, a stranger whom he'd certainly never met before snapped a picture of him. The flash confused his senses for a second before he shot the kid a pissed off look and turned back around. “Come on, man! It's for the school paper,” the annoying reporter yelled after him. “It'll be out tomorrow! Can you answer just a few questions?”

He could tell that the boy was following him because his voice wasn't getting any fainter even though Trunks was moving at a good clip. “Everyone wants to know, Trunks, why did you come to WCU instead of going to Weston, where Bulma Briefs is on the board of trustees?”

He wanted to yell at the kid to stop talking to him like he knew him. But he held his tongue.

“Will you be pledging any fraternities this semester? Are you seeing anyone? What sorority do you think has the prettiest girls?”

Trunks could never understand why people would want to hear so much about someone they didn't even know. Even back when he was a kid and had won the World Martial Arts Tournament junior division, he'd had little use for reporters. And he had even less now. “No comment,” he said, picking up his pace to a speed he knew the other boy couldn't match.

***

As the clock clicked towards the end of his first class, Trunks realized that for the last ten minutes he'd been daydreaming. The class wasn't exactly interesting. It was a simple composition course. Several of his classmates had offered to lend him their notebooks so he could catch up on the lectures he had missed during the first week, but it wouldn't be necessary. It seemed that, as he had a basic grasp of language and grammar, he was already far ahead of the curve. He didn't voice the observation, although it took a lot of restraint, and only graciously turned down the various invitations.

He looked down at his own notebook where he had been doodling. A picture of two small boys. He let his cheek rest on his palm while staring at the picture and ran one finger across the hair of the little Goten stick figure. He didn't understand where along the line their expectations had diverged so drastically. When was it, between budokais, and fighting the bad guys, and sleepovers at Capsule Corp., that they had gotten such different ideas in their heads about what they were doing?

How could Goten believe they were just a couple of friends fooling around? How could he think they were just passing time with each other until they met their “real” mates? When did Goten start thinking about having a girlfriend? And why didn't I? Trunks wondered.

It occurred to him that they had never really talked about what they were, but on the other hand, it didn't seem like anything needed to be said. They had always been together, and they would always be together. It was the simplest love story of all.

Or maybe Trunks was the idiot. Maybe he had been hopelessly naïve in assuming that childhood friendship plus teenage hormones could really equal more than the sum of its parts. That it could really translate into an adult relationship at the expense of all their other experiences. Was it just a friendship with benefits, after all? Or could what they had really be love?

Either way, he was beginning to realize why it was so dangerous to do what Goten had warned against: making one person your everything. Or, as Goten had so eloquently put it, being each others' “first kiss, first fuck, and only friend.” Because when one was gone, the other was left with nothing.

As class was dismissed, he scribbled out the drawing and closed his notebook. He was getting tired of all these morose thoughts. He needed to take his mind off it for awhile. And there was only one thing that could make him feel better now.

***

Twenty minutes later, Trunks stood in front of a three-way mirror admiring his pecs under a long sleeved black t-shirt that was probably one size too small and ten times more expensive than it should have been. “Hmm…” he pondered.

It looked good. But if he was going to forget about Goten he would need more stuff. “Bring me that tech vest,” he requested of the dressing room attendant and pointed to a bright red garment hanging on a nearby rack. He put it on and zipped it part way up then flipped the collar.

Better.

“Needs some accessories,” he muttered and no sooner were the words out of his mouth than two more attendants appeared with flashy sunglasses, fashionable loafers, belts, watches, and leather carryalls.

Trunks sat down in a nearby chair and fastened the watch he'd chosen to his wrist while one of the attendants slipped on the shoes he had picked out. “I love it,” he said, rising once again to check the mirror. “I think I'll wear this one out. But, I'll take the rest, too.” The dressing attendants happily carried all of his things to the queue. It took all three of them to manage his pile, but they didn't complain. They worked on commission, after all.

Trunks felt the nervous tension that had been building in him all morning slowly leaving his body as his card was swiped and his account debited for the new clothes. Something about spending exorbitant amounts of money caused a natural high that just couldn't be beat.

Retail therapy. Maybe more expensive than regular therapy, but it worked a hell of a lot faster.

He left the store, carrying two armfuls of bags. With every new one that he collected, he felt just a little bit of that resonating sadness replaced by temporary exhilaration. Making his way out onto the streets of West City's garment district, he reveled in the sight that greeted him. From where he was on the corner, designer names graced store fronts stretching out in four directions.

He let the distinct smell of the brand new clothes that he was wearing make him almost giddy as he made his way towards the next boutique. Just before he reached his favorite Italian suit designer he was stopped in his tracks by another person calling his name. But this time, he definitely knew the speaker.

“Trunks!” Gohan said sternly, seeming to appear from out of nowhere.

“Hey, Gohan!” Trunks smiled back, ignoring the heated tone of his roommate's voice and greeting him warmly. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, exasperated. “You're supposed to be in class.”

“Oh, is that all?” Trunks was relieved. “I changed my classes around. I had one this morning and don't have any more until later this afternoon. See?” From his pocket, he produced the paper the registrar had given him and flashed a victory sign at Gohan.

“Oh . . . okay,” Gohan sighed. “Sorry, then. I just felt your energy somewhere other than campus and came to investigate.”

“You look stressed, Gohan,” Trunks observed. “You know what you need?”

“An assistant?” Gohan suggested. “A vacation? A massage!”

“No.” Trunks rolled his eyes. “A new wardrobe! Just look at me. This morning I was a mess and now—.”

“You're a mess in brand new clothes,” Gohan finished for him, shaking his head knowingly.

“On the contrary,” he argued. “I'm on the road to recovery.” He stuck his nose in the air as if he had some authority on the issue. “Gohan, you should come with!” he suggested, starting to get excited. Gohan had his own wounds to suture. And Trunks had been wanting to get him into an updated wardrobe since they had moved in together. Plus, if there was anything more fun than shopping for one's self, it was dressing up others. Especially those with so much potential. “You have a great body,” he eyed his roommate appreciatively. “Let me show you how to use it.”

“Uh, as tempting as that sounds,” Gohan said sarcastically, “I'll have to take a rain check. I have work, remember? I'm damn busy, too. I only left to find you.” He looked at the younger man warily.

Trunks mentally took note of his roommate's increasing stress level and decided that he needed a break. “I'll make some calls,” he promised, winking. Then, taking out his sleek silver cell phone, he dialed his mother's direct line. Bulma answered on the third ring, sounding a bit out of breath.

“Mom!” Trunks said sweetly into the phone. “Listen, I know you're busy, but I have good news. I've decided to transfer to Weston at the end of this semester. I want to follow in my mother's esteemed footsteps.” Gohan could hear her squeal of excitement from several feet away where he was standing on the pavement. “Oh, but before you get too excited, mother, I have to make sure I get all As this semester, or else maybe I'll blow my chances. I know you're on the board of trustees and all but, well,” he said solemnly, taking a deep breath to better sell the story, “I want to do this the right way.”

Trunks took a moment to listen to his mother praise him for being so honorable. Then he continued. “So, listen, what I wanted to know was if you could possibly spare Gohan for a few hours this afternoon. I have a big test coming up in my next class and I'm sure I'll ace it if he can help me study.”

A few seconds later he hung up with a satisfied smile. “She said I can have you for as long as I want,” he said victoriously, expecting Gohan to start jumping up and down with excitement.

But the older man just stared at him in shock. “Trunks, did you ever think that maybe I don't have time for this? Your mother may think she can spare me, but I've got massive amounts of paperwo—.”

“Come on, Gohan,” the younger boy interrupted. “Just a half an hour! You'd have to take a lunch break anyway, wouldn't you? Just stay for a little while, and then I'll treat you to lunch and send you straight back to your precious paperwork.” He smiled endearingly before continuing. “Actually, this store has amazing suits, so think of the whole thing as a business outing. Please?” he added, blinking.

Gohan only reached under his glasses to rub his eyes and sighed.

“Yes!” Trunks quietly celebrated. “Come on.” With that he dragged the reluctant man into the store.

“Ah Mr. Briefs!” They were greeted with affection by the store's manager.

“Luca,” Trunks greeted the older man familiarly, “it's been far too long.”

“It certainly has! We've gotten at least two shipments since you've been here last. But don't worry, I kept aside the best of each for you.”

“You're too good to me,” Trunks exclaimed. “Show me everything you have!”

The gentleman shuffled off in front of them. “Right this way.” When they reached the back, he motioned for Trunks and Gohan to sit down and offered them two glasses of champagne. Normally Gohan would not have taken a drink during work hours, but Trunks was fraying his nerves. He downed his glass quickly.

Then Luca snapped his fingers a number of times and various employees showed up with hangers displaying some of the finest Italian suits Gohan had ever seen. His eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of the price tag attached to the one nearest him. It was a good thing Trunks was rich, or Gohan was sure he'd have no money left to buy him lunch.

“These few here,” Luca gestured to three immaculate garments held by his underlings. “I've had the liberty of tailoring them to your measurements,” he finished proudly. “I just knew they'd suit you.”

“I'm sure I'll love them. But tell me,” Trunks asked, “do you have something in my friend's size?” He gestured towards Gohan. “I think something in green would really bring out his eyes,” Trunks suggested and the salespeople readily agreed. In a minute they were back with an impressive mahogany brown wool number paired with a dark green shirt and matching tie.

A young woman held the fabric up to Gohan's neck. “Oh yes,” she breathed in a heavy accent. “This makes the gentleman's eyes sparkle. And it perfectly contrasts your flawless pale skin, sir,” she flattered him.

“Gohan, you would look amazing in that. You have to try it on,” Trunks encouraged.

Either the compliments or the champagne was going to his head because Gohan grudgingly reached out to grasp the hanger. He stood up and joined Trunks on the raised platform in front of the wall of full length mirrors that made up the dressing room. “I don't know why I let you talk me into these things,” he ruminated.

“You'll know why when you see yourself dressed in that,” that younger boy answered.

“And for you, Mr. Briefs,” Luca said with a gleam in his eye. “I've been saving something very special.” He produced a jet black pair of pants, blazer and vest and paired it with a black shirt and tie. “Monochromatic patterns are all the rage this season,” he assured Trunks. “And if I may say, sir, you look stunning in black.”

Trunks' mouth was already watering. He did look damn fine in black, and this suit was a piece of artwork. He quickly stripped out of the clothes he was wearing, with the help of several attendants, and discarded them to the side as he reached out for the new object of his longing. The attendants helped him to put it on, tucking in his shirt for him, as he fiddled with the tie.

Gohan startled as expert hands began unbuttoning his own shirt and sliding it over his shoulders. “Oh, I can do it—,” he attempted to interrupt them as a second attendant started working on his belt. But they already had him half undressed. Resigned, Gohan let them strip him down to socks and underwear and then re-clothe him in the outfit they had chosen.

Practiced fingers tucked his shirt in, buckled his belt, and secured the buttons on the mahogany colored vest. “Wait,” Trunks interrupted as they tried to hoist the jacket onto his shoulders. “Just hang on to the jacket for now.” Trunks approached him and carefully lifted the awkward black frames away from Gohan's eyes. Just as he suspected, behind those unassuming glasses, Gohan's black eyes practically smoldered. It was a sin to keep them so disguised. Trunks ruffled the older man's bangs until a few black strands fell down over his forehead. The effect was a sexy casual look that he thought complimented Gohan perfectly.

“Gorgeous,” he said with approval. All of the salespeople murmured and nodded their heads in agreement. “You look like you walked off the pages of GQ, Gohan.” Trunks smiled and gestured towards the mirror.

Gohan caught his reflection in the multiple panes of glass that surrounded him. He almost couldn't believe it was him in the mirror. He looked . . . well . . . .

“Downright edible,” Trunks finished, drinking in the reflection with admiring eyes.

“The two of you make a dashing pair,” Luca concluded presumptuously. Gohan flustered for a moment and Trunks watched as a faint and endearing shade of pink colored the older demi's cheeks.

“Do you know who would fucking cream her pants if she saw you right now?” Trunks asked, making Gohan even more uncomfortable. “Videl,” he finished matter-of-factly.

“Really, you think?” Gohan's eyes snapped up from the floor where they had come to rest. The younger man noticed that apparently, even the immaculate Gohan could succumb to vanity where his ex was concerned. Maybe the two of them weren't so different after all. “Ah, doesn't matter . . .” he said, regaining his senses. “I can't afford any of this.”

“What kind of crap is my mom paying you?” Trunks inquired. “It's a sin to having you walking around in those khakis.” He made a face. But he was already distracted from the topic at hand as he glanced at his own reflection clad in flawless black. The image was striking. Even Gohan had to admit, Trunks was the very definition of stunning. If Gohan looked like a model straight out of the pages of GQ, then Trunks looked like some kind of angel, fallen from the heavens and directly into Italian silk.

Still, Gohan managed to tear his eyes away, while Trunks remained transfixed by the sight. Gohan shook his head. “Amazing you had time to fall for Goten when you seem so inexcusably infatuated with yourself.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, though, he regretted having uttered Goten's name. Especially while being so critical of Trunks.

But the younger boy didn't respond, except to muse quietly, “What's amazing is how he managed not to fall head over heels for me.”

Gohan wanted to protest at the unapologetic conceit of the statement. But he only snorted and turned to leave the dressing room. The kid had a damned point.

***

“So were you serious about transferring to Weston?” Gohan inquired as the two ate their lunch at a downtown café a short time later.

“Yes,” Trunks affirmed. “But I was lying about having a test this afternoon.” He looked up at Gohan expecting an angry reaction. “I just thought it'd be fun to spend some time together. You did have fun, didn't you?” Trunks' eyes widened expectantly.

Gohan didn't have the heart to dash the hope that he heard in the other's voice. But as he answered affirmatively, he realized with some surprise that he wasn't lying. He did indeed have a good time shopping with Trunks. “It was a lot of fun, actually,” he answered slowly after nodding.

“Anyway,” the younger boy continued, “I only came to WCU because of . . . him” He stared down at his plate for a moment, then he shrugged and looked up again. He seemed resolute. “No point in staying now.”

“I admire your strength, Trunks,” Gohan said earnestly. “It takes a very brave person to keep moving forward after things like this happen.”

Trunks smiled across the table at his roommate. “Likewise.” Then he added, only half-joking, “Or just a couple of people who are really good at faking it.”

“Nah.” Gohan inattentively poked an olive around on his plate. “You and me, kid,” he insisted, “we're gonna be just fine.” But it didn't quite sound like he believed it himself.

Trunks pushed his empty plate out of the way and rested his arms on the table, leaning across it a bit to peer at his lunch date. “So, enough about me. Tell me, what happened between you and Videl?”

Gohan pretended he didn't hear the question. “Check, please!”