Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Door ❯ Blue Eyes ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

The Door

By: Buggi

Based on the manga story The Door from Confidential Confessions by Reiko Momochi

Author’s Note: I don’t think I have much to say so, on with the story, ne?

Disclaimer: I do not own the series Confidential Confessions or DBZ. Thank you.

Her plane arrived an hour early, but she didn’t bother calling her best friend. She was sure that she was busy with something else and told herself that she was fine waiting. Truthfully she wasn’t, but it wasn’t such a big deal. She was a ball of nerves. It was hard to imagine what Bra was like now. Of course over the phone she sounded the same and seemed like the old Bra she remembered, but then again. They had been away from each other for quite some time now. She just hoped that she hadn’t changed too much. She didn’t want to think about what it would be like if she couldn’t talk to her best friend anymore.

She flipped a page in her book and crossed her legs. Time was ticking by slowly…or maybe it was going by fast. Huffing, she closed the book and set it beside her with disinterest. She was becoming anxious. When she thought she couldn’t wait anymore and began to stand up, she heard the familiar screech of her voice and almost jumped out her socks. She felt her weight on her back and her arms around her neck.

“Pan!!” She wailed as they both collided in a heap to the floor.

Trunks watched with disdain, shaking his head slightly as the two girls helped each other up. And although he was not thrilled to be apart of there girlish chattering or carrying so many heavy bags, he couldn’t help but stare at Pan. Something had changed drastically about her. Was it him, or did she look…

“TRUNKS!!”

He blinked in shock as he came to an immediate halt at the curb, watching as a terminal bus sped past him. He turned to see her dark eyes wide with confusion. He had not been paying attention, what so ever. Bra’s hand came across his face full force and he could do nothing but blink.

“You idiot! You almost got yourself killed! What the hell were you doing?!” She screeched, causing just about everyone in the vicinity to stare in there direction. “If Pan hadn’t called to you, you would’ve been road kill!!”

“Uh…” He started, glancing over in Pan’s direction, seeing her blushing in embarrassment.

Now what the hell was his excuse? He couldn’t very well tell his little sister he had been checking out her best friend. He scoffed lightly, stepping off the curb and ignored his sister’s words completely. He didn’t have to answer her anyway. He was older and did what he wanted. She watched him walk off, her hand up on her hip like the diva she was.

“How dare he almost get himself killed and then just walk off like nothing happened.” Bra scolded him behind his back.

A small smile came to Pan’s lips as she followed behind her best friend and listened to her bitch. The two siblings where too funny when they were around each other. It was amusing that this was all normal to her. Their arguing, Vegeta’s eyes when they came into the parking complex and heard them arguing, the way he’d tell them to “Shut the hell up” and then get whacked in the back of the head by his wife, Bulma. Almost immediately upon seeing Bulma, a knot clenched in her throat. Tears came to her eyes as the older women took her in her arms and hugged her like the lost daughter she was.

“Ah Pan , sweetheart.” Bulma mewled, rubbing her back soothingly, “You’re home, with family now.”

---

Later on Pan found herself sprawled out on the giant queen sized bed that was hers, thinking about all her spoils. She had finally gotten away from the retched place she had to call home. She had left her past and parents where they belonged; behind her. Now she could hopefully move on with her life and do whatever she wanted. But in her chest, she couldn’t help but feel that one nagging feeling. Her mind flashed back to the argument she had with her mother that morning and she couldn’t help but shiver as she felt a chill or regret run down her spine.

“LEAVING?!” Her mother, Videl screeched into the receiver, “HOW COULD YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT LEAVING?”

“Mother,” Her voice was tired and unmoved, passive as she shifted the phone over to her other shoulder, “It is what I want.”

“What YOU want?” The women scoffed in disbelief, “Ha. You probably wouldn’t even be able to survive!”

There was a long, silent pause. This wasn’t surprising. Her parents were always so un-approving of her. No matter how many accomplishments she had made, no matter how achieved she had become, they still had no faith in her. She shook her head in disgust, “Mother, I’ll be 18 in three months, I have not lived with you and Father in so long…I’ll do what I want.”

There was another pause before she spoke brashly again, “Hmph. Whatever you want, eh? Well. Since you want to be that way my Child, then your father and I will have no choice; we are closing your financial bank account.”

The conversation ended with her standing listening to the dial tone, frowning with distaste as she clicked “off” on the phone. And now she lay here, in this bed, this room of her solitude, and wept. The tears came so suddenly, she didn’t know what to do. So instead of doing anything, she lay there for a minute, letting the tears roll down her cheeks. She wondered briefly why she couldn’t make herself think of something, anything positive that would make her feel better. And then suddenly, she blinked and stood up from the bed.

Her bags still stood by the door, where Trunks had placed them. Dragging the smaller one over to the bed, she propped it on her pillow and opened it. She could practically feel her skin tingling when she saw its neon pink handle. It was the first thing her eyes caught and as she scooped it up into her palm, she sighed in relief as she plopped back down on the other side of the bed. She stared at the small hand blade for a long time before she clicked it up to a good size.

And then she crossed her leg and hummed softly as she dragged the sharp, painless blade across her exposed ankle. Oh how good it felt as the blood oozed out of the slit. She didn’t even hear the door when it creaked open, nor did she see the blue eyes that stared at her in shock. There she was, sitting Indian style on the bed, blade clenched in one hand while her ankle rained a thick blood river down into her sock. He watched the expression on her face. It was a mix between calmness and…pleasure? What was so pleasing about causing damage to yourself? Before he could stop himself, her walked over and snatched the box cutter from her grasp.

She jolted her head around to give him a questioning, surprised glare. When she realized it was him, she tried to grab the wound to stop its bloody course, only to draw her hand back with a hiss. Something on her hand must’ve reacted to the cut, because the next thing she knew, the cut was stinging. She went to spit some threatening words in his direction, but blinked when her scooped her up into his arms. He carried her into her bathroom and sat her on the sink, turning shortly afterwards to dig through the medicine cabinet. He had a frustrated look on his face and as he cleaned and bandaged the cut with the supplies he found, she couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed with curiosity.

His touch was gentle, caring as he slowly stroked the blood away. For once she didn’t have anything horrible to say to him. He was actually treating her nicely. She caught herself admiring his manly features, her cheeks tenting as she looked away. Now if only he could figure out why he was even upset about this. Or better yet, why he was standing here cleaning her sacred blood off her dainty foot. So what if he happened to notice just how soft her skin was, or the way she had her toes nails painted black with green happy faces, or that her toes were practically perfect.

“How long?” He said suddenly, wrapping the white gauze around her ankle.

“Wha…?” She asked, snapping out of the trans she had somehow fell into, “Oh.”

She became quiet again and he couldn’t help but huff, “So are you going to tell me or are you going to continue stalling?”

She tilted her head in wonder, “Why do you care?”

He sighed, “I guess I deserve that.” He shook his head, “Believe it or not I actually care about you Pan, not to mention causing yourself harm is unhealthy..”

She scoffed, “Whatever, smart one.” She found herself debating on whether she should tell him or not, “Since I was 9.”

He stopped what he was doing to give her a dubious stare. How could she just say that so nonchalantly? It was like she didn’t even give a damn about it. He felt a string snap inside his chest and he couldn’t stop the anger. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you mental?! That’s not fucking good Pan!”

She squealed when he pulled the bandage tighter and then ended it, “HEY! Excuse me Mr. Big CEO Man but some people aren’t as privileged as you are!”

She gave him a swift kick to the side with her other foot, “And even if I WAS mental, it doesn’t matter now does it?”

She tried to get off the sink and push him out of her path, but he felt like a stone wall in front of her. Glaring up at him, she gave up the struggle and instead crossed her arms. They stared each other down, both unwilling to compromise of even agree on the subject. And then finally he spoke, cutting the silence between them. “You could kill yourself…”

She faltered, her gaze falling down to the ground in front of him. Now, that she didn’t have anything to say to. She couldn’t very well tell him that she secretly wished for death to strike her down like a blow to the head. And why did he care about any of this anyway? It wasn’t like he knew the reason behind her actions, or how much it really did get her through the day. And it definitely wasn’t like biting your nails. She couldn’t just stop. It was addicting, like a drug. Maybe Cocaine or Heroine or something. When she was younger she had tried to stop, but the problems in her life keep building up. There was simply nothing he could do and that was final..

“Trunks, move.” She stated quietly, without so much as looking in his direction.

“I’m going to get you to open up to me Pan. I can’t stand by and just let you harm yourself.”

She gave him a shocked look, “You’re not going to tell your mother and father are you?”

“Maybe, maybe not..” He saw the expression in her eyes and stepped back, “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything. I have a feeling Bura knew about this too, huh?”

Pan slide off the sink without a word and walked back into her room. Now what the hell was she going to do, she asked herself. She watched Trunks retreat, but not without laying the box cutter back onto her dresser. It was bad enough she had Bra on her back for it. Now Trunks? And he even sounded sincerely concerned. She huffed. Eh, it didn’t matter anyway. Trunks meant as much as she meant to him. He was probably just trying to be nice to her for his sister. She laid on the bed, sprawling out onto the queen sized mattresses. She didn’t care anymore. A nap sounded far more interesting than anything else right now, so with a yawn and a miffed sound she fell asleep, yet again unaware of the blue eyes that watched her from the crack in the door.

---

He closed the door, making a face as before he made his way down the hallway towards the kitchen where he knew his sister was probably cooking. There she stood, helping the maid bot prepare her and Pan’s meal. She felt his eyes boring into the side of her head and looked up to give him a annoyed glare. “What?”

He stood there silently first, calm on the outside and sheathing with anger on the inside, “You knew Pan was a box cutter?”

She stared at him in despair, “How did you find out?”

“I walked in on her cutting this huge gash into her ankle! Like it was nothing!”

Bra’s shoulders slumped, “I’ve tried to help her, she refuses to see a therapist.”

“Then why haven’t you told mother yet?!” He yelled.

She winced, “Trunks…mother already knows.”

“She does?” Now he was confused, “But why hasn’t she said anything about it to her? Why hasn’t she done anything?”

Bra paused, trying to find the right words, “Because we can’t make her…and why do you care anyway big brother?”

He stalled, opening and closing his mouth trying to respond, “Uh..”

She watched him carefully, struggling with his words as he made this stupid expression. She knew that expression all to well, and as she stood there watching him, a cat-like grin came to her face. “Trunks…?”

He stopped suddenly, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

“Are you falling for Pan-chan?” She smirked, moving towards him slowly.

“Uh…What! Hell No!” He stuttered, a sweat drop rolling down the side of his face.

She leapt on him, squealing with joy, “Oh my god! Yes you are! I can tell, I’m your little sister!”

“Bura…” He said nervously, looking down the hallway, “Bura! Shut up! Be quiet!”

“But I caaan’t! I’m so happy!” She grinned childishly as she leapt on him, “Oh Oh! You should try to talk to her Trunks! Maybe you could help her too!”

“But I was just about to make a move on Terry at the office!” He whined and then straightened his back, “Bura! We have more serious matters at had. Our friend…our family is killing herself.”

At that moment, Bra became silent again and the grin she wore faded away to a frown. She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. She rubbed her upper arm, pouting like the child she could be sometimes. He was right. Her best friend had had a problem. She had been this way for years. But now it was different… She admitted to herself that she was constantly worrying about her, she had always worried about her. Since the day she had sat next to her in there 1st grade class and asked her what she though of the blue ribbons in her hair.

It seemed as if Pan had always had a problem or two in the past. Always pushing herself in something to do better. Like her, Bra excelled in everything, standing next to her best friend as they both showed off some trophy on some stage to some prestige’s peoples. They had learned together, been each other strength; although it seemed as if Bra had gained more strength from Pan than Pan had from her. Over the years it was Bra that had caught her every time she feel, collected her broken pieces and her shattered dreams and slowly glued them back together.

There were so many occasions where she had to take Pan into her arms and they’d both cry right there in her room, with Pan’s head buried into her stomach or her lap. And the tears would come like waves flowing from an ocean. And now she had an opportunity to truly help her best friend and as she looked up at her brother, the concern and…love being born in his eyes, she smiled. Everything was finally going to get better. She could feel it. So she nodded, “We’ve got to help her, Trunks.”

“Yea…” His voice was calm now.

“You think she can get better?” Bra asked, turning before she walked back into the kitchen.

Trunks thought for a minute and then shrugged with a lazy grin, “With me helping her, she’ll be brand new.”

Bra grinned and walked back into the kitchen.

---

Author’s Note: Hm…damn. That took me sooo long. I’m sorry everyone. School has me wrapped around its little finger this year and so does my boyfriend. Not to mention someone just got shot at the end of my street 3 nights ago… Right on the corner of my street, 6 houses away. He was a good guy, he didn’t deserve to be killed. But this world snatched him away. Who knows if he could’ve changed? Le’sigh.

Renée: *Stares* That shit is depressing…but this story is moving. So you guys should review. R.I.P to Dogg Nutz. (Funny Nickname I know). We love you and we know you are with god now.

Buggi: Thnx Nea…