Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ When There Are Two of Me ❯ Part 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I'm not making any money.

Warnings: Yaoi (male x male). Trunks x Goten.

Summary: This fic is completely independent of my other fics. GT doesn't exist.

 

Note: age: Goten 18; Trunks 19.

 

When There Are Two of Me

 

by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by Redmarshin

 

Part 4

 

“Hello,” Lillian nodded. She entered the ward and approached Trunks who was sitting on his bed, in the midst of books and sheets of paper with his laptop on his lap.

 

“Good morning,” Trunks greeted. He saved the file and closed his laptop then pushed it away from his lap onto the covers. He motioned to the chair at the window. While waiting for the doctor to sit down and start talking, he listened to the high heels clicking over the floor. He had decided that he wasn't going to make it easier for her; if his mother hired her, it meant she was a professional and he was curious to see a professional at work.

 

Lillian looked around the room. It was quite a big one - naturally - the Briefs family was the richest in the world; a month ago Bulma bought the entire hospital. The room was clean and neat except Trunks' several clothes and books that were scattered around. She had given Bulma several questions about her son before coming here, and Bulma had mentioned that Trunks had a quite serious cleaning obsession. It didn't seem like this anymore.

 

“What are those books?” Lillian asked motioning at the pile next to Trunks.

 

“I'm writing a dissertation,” Trunks said after following her hand.

 

“What is it about?” Lillian interested.

 

“Genetic experiments,” Trunks answered.

 

“And that big one about medieval history?” Lillian's eyes settled on a book on the windowsill, farther from Trunks.

 

“It's Goten's.”

 

“Goten's?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Lillian sighed inwardly. Though, it was going quite well - after talking with Trunks for the first time she thought that he might ignore her at all - the boy had made a rather self-confident impression on her. Right now he was trying to satisfy his curiosity; she had been warned about that, too, by Gohan this time.

 

“When did you dye your hair?” she asked. “I think the previous color suited you better… Though it looks nice when it's long…”

 

That got Trunks' attention. “Have we met before or have you seen my photo?”

 

She nodded. “I used to give lectures at the university you're attending. I was your professor during your first year at university. You used to give me headaches.”

 

“Why?” Trunks blinked.

 

“You were the only student that made me re-read all the books and sit at my computer all night while looking for information so that I could answer your questions…”

 

Trunks cocked his head to his right shoulder. “He must have been teasing or trying to annoy you. The bastard could have simply found it himself.”

 

“You refer to him as to the third person… You don't think of yourself as of Trunks?” Lillian asked.

 

It was Trunks' time to sigh inwardly. He felt the urge to roll his eyes but refused it. “Of course I don't. I have no idea who the hell that person was. I have no memories of him. You can't expect me to simply take his place. I am not he.”

 

“Are you trying to get to know him?” Lillian interested.

 

Trunks almost pouted. “Well, sure I am. Everybody around is talking only about him.”

 

“Is it pissing you off?”

 

Trunks smiled. This seemed to appear more interesting that he had thought at first. He had underestimated the woman - she went straight to the point. “Yes, I am starting to hate him.”

 

“You hate it when they don't take you as a normal person? You think they simply look at you as at a temporary phenomenon and simply try to wait it out until the real Trunks is back?”

 

“Bull's-eye.”

 

“You are jealous of him?”

 

Trunks grinned at her, nodding. “As hell I am.”

 

Lillian felt shivers going down her spine. The boy was taking on defensive. He was answering every question without hesitation, but that wasn't pleasant for him.

 

“You smell of illness.” Trunks' blue eyes passed Lillian's form. “It's cancer. How long have you been ill?”

 

Lillian stared at the dark-haired boy against her. No, Trunks hadn't been taking defensive. He had been taking offensive and he wasn't subtle about it either.

 

“For a bit longer than a year,” she answered, wondering how the boy knew.

 

“It's progressing,” Trunks said.

 

“Yes, I know that,” Lillian nodded.

 

Trunks watched her face for some time. He realized he respected this woman. She was interesting and she wasn't simply waiting for the death to catch up with her. “Are you still lecturing at the university?” he asked.

 

Lillian shook her head in denial. “No, not anymore. The news shook me a lot, and then came many therapies, which clashed with my schedule at university. So, I settled on private work.”

 

“What did my mother tell you to do?” Trunks asked.

 

Lillian watched Trunks' face for some time then sighed resignedly. “She asked me to return her son.”

 

Trunks' face didn't show any reaction. “And what did you say?” he inquired.

 

“I told her I'd see what I can do…”

 

“You are very diplomatic…” Trunks brushed over his long hair. While he was ruffling through his black hair, a thought that he himself was waiting for the death to catch up with him crossed his mind - he could never be sure - maybe one day he'd go to sleep, and in the morning, the one who'd wake up wouldn't be he anymore. He laughed at himself inwardly - actually that was the same as to be afraid to be hit by a car - one couldn't tell if he would get to live his whole live normally or maybe he'd be dead after three seconds. He wasn't going to be paranoid about it. It was stupid.

 

Lillian watched Trunks' unguarded expressions then shifted to get more comfortably on the chair. “Do you feel guilty for taking his place in his social life?”

 

Trunks' head rose, and his cold blue eyes concentrated on her. Lillian braced herself for the defensive or offensive reaction. She was a little surprised when the blue within those eyes softened. Trunks was silent then tugged a hair-strand behind his ear.

 

“I stole everything he had. You are asking if I feel guilty…” He smiled, a smile that didn't offer any warmth. “What if I said that I don't give a fuck about him?”

 

Lillian looked straight into intent blue eyes. “I'd say that you're a terrible liar,” she calmly said while watching those blue pools. She waited for reaction and was surprised again when suddenly Trunks laughed heartily.

 

“And you'd be right.” Trunks smiled at her, this time the smile was genuine and a little bitter.

 

Lillian sat still for several moments. “You push yourself too hard,” Lillian said, watching him. “Don't you think you were too fast to difference and distance yourself from former Trunks?”

 

Trunks frowned at her. “But memories are the substance that makes a person. Only because of our experienced events we are who we are. Because of those memories Bulma called you. And because of those memories she can't look me into the eyes!”

 

Lillian nodded. “That's true. But don't you think we are more than several mere memories? Don't you believe in souls?”

 

It was the first time after Trunks woke up from coma when a genuinely surprised or even shocked facial expression appeared on him. “You can't be serious…” he muttered, brushing over his forehead. Then he raised his head, brushing his long black hair away from his eyes. “You'd have better luck in trying to convince me that genetically I have inherited the same genes from my parents as him and that it would result in us having the same character…”

 

“Always logical…” Lillian smiled. “It's a good presumption. But it seems you don't believe it yourself?”

 

Trunks shrugged. “Not really.”

 

“I could come more frequently if you wanted…” Lillian suggested, reaching for her handbag.

 

Trunks laughed softly. “You feel pity for me? Don't. I am healthy, I have two arms and two legs and I am not dying.”

 

“But it's not quite about this, is it?” Lillian said.

 

Trunks didn't answer anything to that. “No,” he muttered after a minute, “it isn't.”

 

Lillian stood up. “Would twelve o'clock a day after tomorrow suit you?”

 

Trunks nodded. “Yeah, it's fine.” As it seemed the session was over, he reached out for his laptop. He heard the woman walk over to the door. “Thank you for being open with me,” Trunks said, not raising his head.

 

Lillian nodded. “I can't expect you to be honest with me if I don't do the same in return…”

 

XXXXX

 

Trunks blankly stared at the computer screen. Good five minutes passed until his gaze finally unlocked from the screensaver. He looked around in the ward.

 

He hated this place.

 

“Goten's brother?”

 

Gohan startled and raised his head from his paperwork. “What is it?” As it was useless, he didn't protest anymore against Trunks calling him that.

 

“Why is she keeping me here?”

 

Gohan sighed. “You know the answer…”

 

“I thought maybe from your mouth it would sound more logical…” Trunks turned away from him to look through the window.

 

Gohan leaned back in his chair as Trunks abruptly jumped out of the bed.

 

“I want to go out,” Trunks declared.

 

Gohan simply nodded. “Where are you going?”

 

“I want to cut my hair,” Trunks said before pushing the bed away from the wall.

 

Gohan felt his neck craning while Trunks busied himself. Despite himself he felt grinning. “How did the cleaning lady skip that?”

 

“I helped her son with his homework.” Trunks pulled his shirt on then grabbed his jeans. “She's quite nice. Although, not too bright.”

 

Gohan blinked. He sighed, “You do know how to compliment people…”

 

Trunks squatted down to tie his shoelaces. “I just stated the truth.”

 

Gohan didn't say anything, for he knew it was useless - Trunks never listened to him, anyway. With his hands crossed behind his head he leaned back in his chair again. “Do you need money?” he yawned.

 

Trunks shook his head in denial. “No, I still have some left from the time my grandmother gave me.”

 

Gohan nodded. “Come back soon. I don't want to see her cry again…”

 

Trunks raised his head to look at Gohan through his long bangs. “She'll have to let me go. My patience is running thin… In the end I might not care whom I will hurt in the process…”

 

Gohan snorted. “You never cared.”

 

Trunks stood up abruptly. “Don't waste your words.” He grinned unpleasantly after Gohan had flinched. “I don't remember that “never”, anyway.”

 

XXXXX

 

He had cut it as the other Trunks used to cut it: not short but not long either, with shorter fringe on his forehead and longish bangs framing his face. He watched himself in a mirror for several minutes then asked to re-dye his hair black once again - there was that purple color visible at the roots of the hair again.

 

After leaving the barber's he thought about coming back to the hospital but after walking several meters he turned around and went into the opposite side.

 

The hospital was located in a calm area of the city, almost on the border of it. It was surrounded by a park, which blocked most of the sounds from the further situated streets. He liked that here weren't many people and noise.

 

Trunks passed the shop where he first bough ice-cream. Shortly, he looked through the window then concentrated his sight back onto the street.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Trunks turned around to look at a young woman who had spoken to him. His brow rose as she fiercely flushed. “Can I help you?” he asked.

 

The girl blushed even fiercer. “Uh… Yeah. I was looking for a hospital. I wanted to visit my friend but I have already circled this street several times but…”

 

“Ah, it's that way,” Trunks motioned with his hand. “Just go past that police office building. There's a park behind it. Just walk alongside the road and you'll be there.”

 

The girl followed Trunks hand to the high building that had been blocking her sight of the hospital all the time.

 

“Why are you blushing?”

 

“Huh?” Her head snapped back to meet the blue intent eyes. She painted red all over. “Dunno…” she stammered, her eyes trying to look anywhere but that face before her. “Eh, thanks,” she quickly raised her head. “Thank you very much. Really,” she repeated once again before bolting away.

 

Trunks stood there confused then shrugged. He decided that she probably didn't like that scent coming from his hair - there was some sharp scent of perfume wafting from it. It was blocking his nose and senses.

 

Though, after walking through the city for about half an hour he realized that he was unbelievably naïve - he had noticed that had the same effect on most of women. Some of them blushed then turned around to stare at his back after he passed, and some even openly leered at him (mostly those of senior age). Even guys eyed him.

 

The reaction amused him. At first he felt uncomfortable, then he realized he liked it, but after he had wandered through the city for two hours he realized it started pissing him off - it was growing tiresome. Despite that hot blond girl with huge boobs had just given her phone number, he still preferred not to be noticed.

 

Though, it was clear that he had one more thing to his advantage. If needed be he could use that - he just needed more experience how to use his looks to get what he wanted. He shortly thought about several nurses that were working on his floor then rejected the idea. If he wanted to experiment, it was best to do that outside the hospital.

 

XXXXX

 

When he came back to the hospital it was already late.

 

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

 

With his arm caught in his shirt that he was undressing, Trunks turned around to look at an enraged Gohan who had just barged into his ward.

 

“I see you have improved your vocabulary…” Trunks pulled the shirt off and tossed it onto the bed. He started working on his shoelaces.

 

“It's eleven!” Gohan growled. “You damned jerk! Because of you I had to stay here for...”

 

“And why the hell have you been waiting for me? I don't remember asking that!” Trunks kicked his shoes off, found his robe and flung it on.

 

The slap had hurt.

 

Wide-eyed, with his palm pressed to his left cheek, Trunks stared at Gohan who had just bitch-slapped him. The ringing in his ears was loud enough to cover the echo in the ward.

 

With his eyes blazing and his fists clenching, Gohan panted loudly until the insistent urge to simply strangle Trunks passed by.

 

“You slapped me,” Trunks glared at him, rubbing his cheek. Suddenly, he smiled. “My, my, my…” he grinned wider. “You look so collected all the time… yet it seems you don't have much self-control…”

 

“I don't have time for your fucking mind games!” Gohan grabbed Trunks by the front of his robe. He raised the shorter man to his eye-level so that Trunks had to stand on his tiptoes. “This evening my daughter played a part in a play at her play-group. I had promised to come to see her! But because of some pompous jerk I wasn't able to come!

 

“Nobody asked me to wait for you?!” he hissed at Trunks' face. “Unlike you, I feel responsibility! And it was my responsibility that I let a moron like you walk away from the hospital!” His black eyes bore into Trunks' blue ones. “You are not to leave this ward until I say. Just try going walking around again…”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

Gohan leaned away in surprise from Trunks. He thought that it was maybe wind was making strange noises outside, making him hear things. But Trunks' lips moved again.

 

“I said I'm sorry,” Trunks pried his robe from Gohan's grip. He straightened himself. “If I had known that, I wouldn't have gone out. And I wouldn't have tried to piss you off either. I'm sorry you missed your little girl play her role. And yes, I am an asshole.”

 

Gohan unlocked his jaw. Slowly, he felt the anger leaving him. “You truly are,” he snorted then. He crossed his arms over his chest. He turned to the door. “But you seem to be a lesser asshole than that one was…” he said over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

 

XXXXX

 

Before going to sleep he went to take a shower. There were several bathrooms in the hospital, and he preferred the one on the ground floor. He didn't know why, but even if he had to climb down the stairs, he liked it better. Maybe it was the colors of the tiles, maybe the scent, but he liked it better than the one on the floor of his ward.

 

He undid his robe and hung it on a hook outside the stall then put the towel onto the windowsill. There was the opaque window - one couldn't really see anything through it, but the light still passed. Maybe that's why he liked this bathroom - because it had a window…

 

While regulating the water he wondered how Goten would react to his new haircut. He wasn't regretting having cut his hair, but he didn't want Goten to think he wanted to freak him out. He wasn't really sure why he suddenly decided he had to cut it. Maybe it was because of Lillian's words… Maybe he really reacted too panicky to everyone's behavior - it was bound that they would see him as a part of the old Trunks, after all. He shouldn't have gotten angry… He should have given them some time to adjust… But then…but then it didn't seem that it was moving anywhere. Only Goten and now that woman accepted him as a completely new personality.

 

Goten's brother just pissed him off to no end with his comments of what he used to do and what a bastard he was, and it was coming to the point he simply wanted to smash his fist into that wide mouth. Bulma was making him howl in annoyance with her tries to bring her son back and this made him want to resist her even more.

 

But he could understand both of them. Goten's brother was worried about Goten and didn't want his brother to get hurt again, and Bulma simply wanted her son back, which he couldn't grant in any way.

 

And the most important thing… The most important thing was that he didn't want to die. He was a breathing and living creature, and his instincts screamed at him to fight for his rights and his life. Why the fuck should he care about some fucker who didn't exist anymore? Now this body was his.

 

Snorting, Trunks poured some shampoo onto his palm and started lathering his hair.

 

His first visible manifestation was to dye his hair black. He liked it that way. And he liked the haircut he had now. It didn't matter that it was the same as the old Trunks used to have - he simply liked it. He thought about it as a good sign - he was quitting being paranoid to be seen as the old Trunks.

 

He liked this body. It was well toned, tall, with broad shoulders and he liked the smooth skin that had an interesting quite dark inborn shade. First time while taking a shower he noticed that he had several scars. They weren't very visible and the dark tone of his skin masked them a bit, but that made him wonder how he got them.

 

Trunks trailed his fingers over his chest where one of those scars was. It wasn't like a cut or anything. It seemed similar to a long ago healed burn. He figured that maybe he was scalded with water when child. But there were more of those “burns”. He didn't want to presume anything, but it was against his nature not to presume or make early implications. After that first time when he took a shower he felt disdain for Vegeta.

 

But he didn't want to think about it now. Besides, it was only a presumption.

 

He thoroughly lathered himself with a sponge, in the end his eyes following the sponge downwards his groin. There was one thing he didn't quite like about this body - his pubic hair was purple, too. A thin line of slightly colored hair started beneath his navel and then, with a thickening line, went to his groin where it spread into a thick purple bush.

 

At first he thought about shaving it. Then he thought that it was ridiculous. And in the end he just left it like this - purple pubic hair wasn't something that would throw him off balance. He was a man after all, and if he had purple pubic hair, he simply had to deal with that.

 

He was quite content with his penis. After having compared it with the guys' from the porn magazine he decided the least he could be was average. So, his manly ego wasn't hurt in this case.

 

Trunks slowly trailed the sponge down his groin. He closed his eyes at the pleasant sensation. He hadn't touched himself before. He had thought about this, sure he did - he was a young man with urges that went unfulfilled. Actually he thought about that the first time he went to the shower. It had been late and there was no one around and he could do as he wished. But he didn't do anything. He resisted. The thing was that he felt sick while thinking about what he was about to do to the body that didn't belong to him. A sickening thought that it would be similar to rape crossed his mind. That definitely worked as a mood killer.

 

But in the end… In the end it was simply ridiculous. Here he was...pining over something stupid like that. He didn't know - he might be over in one day or it might be that he'd live like this for the rest of his life. He shouldn't waste his life like this, then. It was no wonder that others saw him as a fleeting image, because he himself was acting like it.

 

With a wet splash the sponge fell onto the bottom of the stall. He slid his hand over himself in a teasing way. He was already half hard. The thought was exciting. Hell, if he was to die virgin, he at least wanted to have a bit of fun. He could let himself be selfish at least once in a while.

 

He stroked backwards and forwards, causing his breath to hitch and his body tremble with faint tremors. Deciding that something wasn't properly working, he applied conditioner onto his palm. His legs spread a bit and he leaned on the wall, out of the spray. He continued stroking, letting himself finally relax.

 

He could feel the strange, warm, clingy and tacky feeling starting in the pit of his stomach. It was spreading into the rest of his body, making him warm, making him long for more. He was good at analyzing but this time it simply didn't work: the clingy feel invaded his head, making his thoughts fuzzy with that warmth and pulsing sensation. Instead of analyzing he found himself enjoying the sensations his body was producing.

 

Trunks licked his dry lips and reclined his head on the tiles. Soft pants were leaving his mouth while his fist worked on him. He rubbed his thumb over the oozing slit, the other hand cupping his testicles. Yes, he was sure he loved that.

 

The clingy warm feeling was turning into something desperately aching and unbelievably hot. At this point he realized couldn't stop himself if needed - it was just too good. His hips were cravingly jerking and pushing himself into his fist, his body taut and flushed.

 

The hotness and burn seemed to concentrate in his lower belly, in his fist. It was turning into a scorching ball that was ready to explode, turning his movements frantic and his gasps choking. And then it was flowing, his mouth locked into a mute cry, his body paralyzed, but his hand not ceasing to draw the last of pleasure out.

 

With shaky legs, Trunks pushed himself off the wall and stood under the stream to wash his seed off. Still panting, and his head dizzy, he quickly washed the sticky liquid off his chest and stomach. After finishing that he wrapped himself in a towel and simply stood there, in the stall, hugging himself, not quite understanding and lost.

 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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