Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ When There Are Two of Me ❯ Part 6 ( Chapter 6 )

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 6

 

Trunks watched the waiter scurry past him. He was hungry again. The amount of food he was consuming was throwing him out; it wasn't logical.

 

Trunks sighed then sipped tea from his cup. He was hungry and had no money to buy anything except the tea he was drinking. Even so he would have preferred not to have ordered anything to save the last cash he had, but then he wouldn't be allowed to sit in this café.

 

Trunks blue eyes rose and narrowed at the sight of Kiore opening the door and entering the café. At least the bastard didn't make him wait. He had no time for games.

 

“Well hello, Briefs,” Kiore flashed his teeth at him before dropping unceremoniously onto one of the four chairs that were around the table. “Didn't expect to get a call from you…”

 

Trunks pursed his lips in a pretended pout. “I guess I saved you from going through trouble while trying to beat me up in some random corner at night…”

 

Kiore flashed his teeth again. “You know me all too well, Briefs… So what is that you want from me?”

 

“Ah well, as you were so nice and left your buddies outside the café, I'll tell you,” Trunks smiled back at him. His smile then turned into a serious thing. “I need a new passport. Here, several photos,” he reached out to his pocket then tossed the small photos onto the table next to Kiore's left hand; he had noticed the man was left-handed. “I expect you to have the right contacts. The name and surname aren't important, but I expect it to be the best quality. Money isn't the issue.”

 

“My, my, my… And what is our cream of society up to?” Kiore scooped the photos. “You do look better with your hair black…” he commented. “And what do I get from this?”

 

Trunks put his elbows on the table then leaned his chin on his palm. “I truly like businesslike people… Well, first you'll get that dissertation you have been moaning about,” with his right he pulled out a CD from his pocket to dangle it before Kiore's face. “Second, tell me the number of your account and I'll transfer a tiny sum to it. But only after I have the passport, that is…”

 

“It seems to me I have already earned that dissertation…” Kiore leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

 

“Well, you see, I have no memories of that…” Trunks scratched his dark-haired head sheepishly before flashing a volumes telling smile to Kiore.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Kiore cursed. “You are worse than he was!”

 

Trunks blinked at him. “Really?” he smiled again. “Is this a compliment?”

 

“You sound like a fag, you know? Must be the influence of that Goten on you…”

 

Trunks smile turned icy. “Must be. You yourself look to be a pretty good fuck.”

 

Kiore blinked at him then chuckled. “A little protective I see… So he finally got into your pants?”

 

Trunks cocked his head to the side, thinking of the first best way to kill Kiore on the spot. “My pants are my concern,” he smiled. “You look after yours,” he purred. “Or I might just leave you bare-assed…”

 

“Sure thing,” Kiore felt himself backing off from that smile. He knew all too well what the man was capable of. Even if this one claimed not to remember a thing, they both were exact reflections of each other. Even this one smiled a lot, the smile was only a variation of the narrowed eyes and a scowl that the other Trunks always had on.

 

“Would you buy me dinner?” Trunks asked casually.

 

“Eh?” Kiore blinked.

 

“Well, we are sorta on a date, aren't we…?” Trunks' innocent blue eyes washed over Kiore like a wave, almost drowning him in their depths.

 

It took several seconds for Kiore to find his words. “No chance to pull that through; I'm not some brainless woman…”

 

“Mmmm…” Trunks' long eyelashes fluttered against his skin. He pursed his lips sensually. “Pity…” he let out a long filled with longing sigh. From under his thick eyelashes bright blue eyes slid over Kiore's heated skin. “And how about a glass of wine with me, then?”

 

Kiore shifted uncomfortably after realizing he had been staring at Trunks' lips. He snorted catching a glitter of amusement in those blue eyes. Yeah, the bastard knew how to prove a point; he had to give him that. Kiore reached his hand out. “The disk.” Kiore was stunned at how fast Trunks' face and body lost that seductive posturing. Just like switching off the light.

 

“You are no fun,” Trunks sighed, shaking his head.

 

“And you have turned into a slut,” Kiore pointed out. “The disk,” he repeated.

 

“Don't think so. Not until I have the passport…” Trunks said.

 

Kiore stood up. He slowly circled the table and advanced to Trunks who was calmly proceeding with sipping his tea. “Listen, you jerk. Give that fucking dissertation, or…”

 

Trunks' tilted his head to look at Kiore who towered over him. His brow rose in interest. “Or what?” He grinned. It wasn't a pleasant grin. “You do want to earn a bit, don't you? So be a good boy and go take care of business.” Trunks genuinely smiled at Kiore's clenched fists. “And, Kiore, I'm a very curious person... I suppose I could be nice and sorta truthful and give that earned dissertation to you. But you know, I won't. You see, I really, really, really want to know what you had to do for Trunks so that he'd write that dissertation…”

 

Kiore stood against Trunks for several seconds. “Don't play a smartass here. If that swam up, you'd go down, too. Gimme that disk and I'll see what I can do about that passport.”

 

“Quite the opposite…” Trunks' blue eyes settled on Kiore. “Bring me the passport, and I will see what I can do about the disk,” waving the disk in the air he waited. He was positive that patience was a positive thing.

 

Trunks was really amused when Kiore tried to snatch the disk from his fingers. “Tsk, tsk…” he grinned, putting the CD back into his pocket. “It seems I'm a little bit faster than you…”

 

“Fuck you!” Kiore angrily came back to his chair.

 

“You really want to?” Trunks' deep blue eyes swept over him suggestively.

 

“Just shut up.”

 

XXXXX

 

The bastard didn't buy him dinner after all. But at least he didn't try to shoot him either.

 

Trunks listened to his angry growling stomach then settled on ordering several pizzas once again. While waiting for them to be delivered he observed the dark city underneath him. Observed it and thought about Goten. He was angry, true. But more he was hurt than angry. He knew he shouldn't feel like that, but knowing didn't help. Even if Goten didn't realize and wasn't responsible for the connection between them, or, more precisely, the connection between him and Goten, he still felt hurt.

 

The night was warm and it was nice to stand in the balcony, to feel the breeze ruffling his hair against his skin. He watched the smoldering cigarette between his fingers. He had pinched it from Kiore. That was his first and last one. Now he knew he didn't like smoking. Nonetheless, he inhaled again, making his eyes water.

 

It hurt to be brushed off like some meaningless bug. It pained him, but he had known it would come to this.

 

Pursing his lips, Trunks swept his eyes over the city once again and thought about what Goten could be doing right now. Goten must be peacefully sleeping, he, on the other hand, had troubles with sleeping. First, he was hungry; second, he wanted to see Goten. Badly. The longing of closeness was strangling him.

 

“Fuck it,” Trunks cursed, dropping the cigarette from his fingers and crushing it under his boot.

 

Irritated to no end that he was so easily thrown out of balance, he slammed the balcony door shut behind him.

 

Once back inside, Trunks went back to his laptop. Seating himself onto the sofa, he glared at the desktop. He still was trying to unlock several of the files he had no access to. He had just recently found the folder and he had tried to see what it was about. Not luck yet. There were also several other files that were provoking his curiosity but he didn't have enough resources to work on several files at once.

 

A harsh knocking on his door woke Trunks up about a half hour later. He had fallen asleep. All sleepy he went to get his pizzas. Realizing he wouldn't get any tips, the delivery-boy gave him a good measured glare, demonstratively turned around and marched back to the elevator.

 

XXXXX

 

He finally had a cell phone. He was happy about it, because he didn't have any cash left. If Kiore weren't such a bitch, he'd have asked him to lend some money and would have given back with percents, but hell, his pride was kicking and screaming - it was enough that he had to call that scum and ask him to get the passport.

 

Maybe he really was a narcissist, just like Goten had said.

 

Trunks looked at his reflection in the mirror before leaving the flat and closing the door behind him.

 

But then…he didn't really understand what Goten meant by that.

 

The morning was a bit chilly, but his brand new jacket was perfectly able to deal with that problem. Trunks fingers absentmindedly played with the CD in his pocket. He had checked out the site of his University and found the schedule the lecturers were working according to. He had also checked out their photos and now knew how the lecturers, whom he was supposed to give his dissertations, looked like.

 

XXXXX

 

“Maybe he said something during one of your conversations?” Gohan asked Lillian.

 

The woman leaned back in her chair. She cast her eyes over Gohan and Bulma then apologetically smiled. “Not really. He talked rather willingly but nothing of his plans…”

 

“What have you been talking about?” Bulma reached for her handbag to draw a pack of cigarettes. She started ransacking through napkins, a pile of cosmetics and documents.

 

Lillian shrugged. “Various things.”

 

“What things?” Bulma found her lighter and lit the cigarette. “He never spoke a word to me. Damn brat. When I find him…”

 

Lillian shrugged. “Many things. As said, he is rather talkative. One just needs to give him what he wants.”

 

“And what the hell does he want?” Bulma inhaled the smoke deeply.

 

“A bit of understanding,” Lillian sighed. “I'm sorry, but my sessions are confidential.”

 

Bulma snorted. Through the clouds of white smoke she looked at Lillian. “He doesn't remember a fucking thing, has no money and is wandering hell knows where…” She put out the cigarette and reached for another one. “As his doctor it's in your best interests to help your patient,” she lit the cigarette.

 

Lillian sighed. “Actually the last time I spoke to him, he was quite content with the situation. I'm surprised he has disappeared.”

 

“Have you got any clues as to where he might be right now?” Bulma asked.

 

Lillian shook her head. “No.”

 

“Maybe then you have any presumptions as to why he ran away?” Gohan asked, getting up. He walked to the window to open it. He turned to Bulma. “Cut it. It's a damn hospital after all.”

 

Bulma frowned but put the cigarette out.

 

“Well, there was only one thing that was keeping him here,” Lillian said. “I suspect that something happened and he didn't see any point in staying here anymore.”

 

“You mean Goten?” Gohan walked over back to the sofa and sat up back next to Bulma.

 

Bulma's frown deepened. “I thought I said clearly I didn't want Goten visiting him?” she looked at Gohan expectantly.

 

Gohan leaned his back calmly into the sofa. “Did you want him to start crawling walls from boredom? If not for Goten he'd have left long ago.”

 

“You are fucking fired,” Bulma said.

 

Gohan rolled his eyes. “Very well. You'll have my resignation as soon as we are finished here.” He turned to Lillian. “So you mean something happened between him and Goten to…”

 

Lillian stood up. “I'm rather hungry. Would you go with me to the city to get something? We could nicely discuss that at the meal.”

 

Gohan cast a glance to a silent Bulma then nodded. “Fine with me.” He got up and followed Lillian outside.

 

XXXXX

 

“You shouldn't have done that,” Gohan said while settling at the table in the café they went to eat.

 

“Well, it won't be the first time I got fired,” Lillian chuckled, leafing through the menu. “Besides, it's nice to keep a company to someone.”

 

“Well, she needed you more than you needed her, but if he came back, he'd need someone close to him…” Gohan took to study his menu, too.

 

“He doesn't really need much support in that sense…” Lillian shook her head. “He talked to me because he was bored, not because he needed to. Maybe the first two sessions…until he completely stabilized…

 

“Bulma deludes herself thinking of him as of a helpless lamb…” she sighed. “Left without money, no memories, no living place…” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever… That guy is capable of taking care of himself better that anyone else…” She looked out through the window into the street to observe the passing people. “His mind is set a bit differently than ours... He talks and interacts because he is curious or needs information. It's not really the need for socialization. I have met similar persons before. They don't really need or wait for others to approve of what they do. They just do it and in Trunks' case it turned out even worse - from the first second he was born, no one accepted him as a new and an autonomous being, which deepened the gap.”

 

Gohan waited her to proceed but as she didn't, he asked: “Did he say anything about Goten?” he expectantly looked at Lillian. He nodded after catching the waitress' questioning look.

 

Lillian waited for Gohan to order then ordered herself.

 

Lillian faltered before speaking. “He talked willingly, but Goten is one constant thing he had been avoiding to talk about. There was a strange feel to how he talked about Goten,” she said. “I didn't really manage to grasp it…” She frowned. “At first I thought he had developed an infatuation for Goten...”

 

Gohan's brow rose. “Trunks? Infatuation for Goten? I don't think so. They are complete opposites… Besides, Trunks was never interested in guys…” He shook his head. “Though, I did notice that this one, despite never listening to me, never questions Goten and does everything Goten asks him to.”

 

“Exactly,” Lillian nodded. “I asked Trunks about that. Actually asked several times. Each time he answered a bit differently. He doesn't like talking about that…” She stretched her sore feet under the table. She swore she wouldn't ever wear high heels anymore. “And I rather feel that he doesn't really understand that himself… Despite this…” She brushed over the table to smooth the crease in the linen. “The situations he mentions him in or the way he looks while talking about him...” She seriously looked at Gohan. “There was one time when we were having a conversation and Goten entered the ward. The look on Trunks' face… There was one time when I saw that facial expression on my son when he was five years old and I came back home from Tahiti after spending there several weeks. Trunks looked exactly the same… Somehow that disturbed me…”

 

Gohan frowned at Lillian. Musing over her words he scratched his chin. “I don't really get it…” he admitted finally.

 

“Neither do I…” Lillian shrugged. “Maybe I'm overdoing it… Maybe it's really infatuation… But then…there's that also graspable wish of acceptation by Goten...that weird kind of it… Trunks talks about everyone's acceptation, but it's easy to see that he doesn't really mean and care, but it also has a feel to it that he means Goten when speaking about such things…” She mused. “I suppose you should ask your brother. He might know much more about all these things. And maybe he suspects where Trunks can be…” She thought for a moment then. “But why Goten? You and he, for example…you two have similar personalities…”

 

Gohan felt the need for a smoke. “It's probably instinctive… We didn't get along with the former Trunks either…” he tried to joke.

 

Lillian laughed softly. “Actually he has admitted that he likes you,” she grinned. “He said you had a rather interesting personality and he liked how you were trying to protect Goten. But he also said that it was rather pointless, for he wasn't going to hurt him…”

 

“Eh…” Gohan brushed over his hair quite surprised.

 

“You probably wonder why I'm telling you all this…” Lillian chuckled. She thanked the waitress who had put a plate before her. “Despite he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself, he still needs someone to stand beside or behind him when a need would arise. And after seeing Bulma like this, I think it will.”

 

“Maybe I should talk to Vegeta…” Gohan muttered to himself while absentmindedly picking on his lobster.

 

“Bulma's husband?”

 

Gohan snapped out from his thoughts. “Ah, yeah,” he nodded. “He's the only one Bulma listens to…”

 

“I don't think it would help…” Lillian sighed. “She's a mother. Any mother would do anything to help her child. And right now Bulma simply wants for the current Trunks to give her son back…”

 

Gohan sighed. “I know that. And I feel for her, but she can't ignore this Trunks… It's nothing of his fault, and she just wants to lock him up and wait until her son is back… Trunks is a person equal to any of us… Even if he pisses me off to no end…”

 

Lillian chuckled. “Actually it might appear than he's more equal than any of us. His grasp of things around him is incredible… I have never met such a person before… He's perfectly conscious of any tiny thing he sees or hears… His speed of making connections is just…”

 

Gohan nodded. “Yes, it's scary - and he rarely thinks before blurting out something he noticed or figured out. But he was always like this, so we got used to him.”

 

“Yeah, I still wonder how he got to know that I have cancer…” Lillian wondered. After a second of non-reaction, she suddenly realized that Gohan didn't seem surprised either.

 

After noticing her questioning look, Gohan squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. “Well… You do wear a wig,” he lamely muttered, painting all scarlet.

 

Lillian chuckled. “Actually he said I smelled of illness…” she drawled then.

 

“Ehh… You shouldn't accept everything he says for real…” Gohan muttered, feeling like an asshole.

 

Lillian shrugged. “I suppose...”

 

XXXXX

 

At first he decided to go to the professor by whom he was writing the dissertation in bioengineering. After seeing him, the old man crossed his brows painfully then finally remembered who he was. The professor leafed through his printed out dissertation, told that he misspelled his surname, asked him some things, seemed to be content with the answers and told him to come back after a week.

 

Then he went back to the ground floor and, after circling through the corridor several times and earning several interested glances, he finally found the needed door. The professor was an elderly woman who was busying herself with a pile of papers and mumbled something under her breath after he greeted.

 

He studied a cheap painting on the wall then observed the cream-colored plaster then studied all the things that were on the table. Especially he liked that big shiny pen. He had also decided he quite liked the table: it was big and seemingly had many drawers to hold all that bunch of papers. After looking closer he realized that that bunch of papers were dissertations of other students.

 

The sight from the window was no less interesting - there were two trees, an old woman sitting on a bench and eating - he squinted closer - some kind of sandwich it seemed. There also was a bunch of pigeons. He didn't like birds. Especially pigeons.

 

Trunks patiently counted the cracks in the ceiling then inspected his nails and decided that they needed cutting. He also decided he was hungry.

 

“Sorry, just had to finish that,” the woman finally sighed. She raised her head. “So, how can I help you?”

 

“I brought my dissertation,” Trunks held out the portfolio.

 

“Ah,” she nodded. She took the portfolio then opened one drawer and started ransacking through the papers. She got some list out of it then looked at the name on the portfolio and then started searching for it in the list. “Briefs Trunks… Briefs Trunks… Briefs Trunks… ah, here it is. But…” Confused, she read a small note next to Trunks' surname then raised her head to look at him. “Oh, it's you.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. She looked at him, interested. “Actually I was recently informed that because of illness you'd postpone your studies for one year…”

 

“The information is incorrect,” Trunks shook his head in denial. “And as you have my dissertation, I don't think there would be a problem with that?”

 

“No, it's fine - I'll accept it,” the professor shook her head. “But you should go to the provost to clear the situation. Just in case.”

 

“Ah, thank you very much. Will do that,” Trunks nodded. “Which number is it?”

 

Right after leaving the room, Trunks went to look for the provost. Then the secretary told him he would have to wait a bit, so he waited for about twenty minutes. The secretary appeared to be a rather chatty person and he got to know the newest university gossips, including that the authority of the university was afraid that the university might not get as much funding as it used to get several years ago. It was due to Trunks Brief's withdrawal from this year course.

 

After letting him in the provost ransacked his papers for a bit then finally asked what he wanted.

 

Trunks was amused to see how fast the provost's behavior changed after he told his surname. He was offered a chair and asked if he wanted tea or coffee.

 

“Black tea, one teaspoon of sugar. Thank you very much,” Trunks grinned, comfortably nestling into the offered seat. He was hungry after all. He regretted that he still wasn't so cubbish as to demand for a sandwich.

 

“I heard you received instructions stating that I was suspending my studies for one year, am I right?” Trunks asked after he had full attention of the provost.

 

“Ah, yes. We got the notification several weeks ago,” the provost nodded.

 

“I'd like to change that - I want to finish my studies and get my diplomas this year,” Trunks said.

 

The provost visibly flustered. “Well… Actually we have already informed the professors that you wouldn't be writing the dissertations anymore. If I remember the notification well, there was something concerning your health and…”

 

“Ah,” Trunks smiled, “it's not a problem. I talked with all three professors and they have my works.”

 

The provost relaxed. “Oh. Then I suppose that in this case there're no hindrances. Your studies are paid of already, anyway.”

 

Trunks reached out for his tea. He smiled charmingly at the young secretary who brought it. “Then, I'd be grateful if my name would be back in the students' lists.” He turned back to the provost.

 

The provost nodded. “It's easy to arrange.” He watched Trunks sip his tea. “And how about your postgraduate studies?”

 

Trunks gave a lopsided smile to the provost. “Well, I suppose everything depends on how well I have written my dissertations, doesn't it?”

 

The provost sweat-dropped. Trunks thought about leaving the conversation on this, letting the provost squirm and think of his conscience, but then decided that he had to be nice to a person that was nice to him.

 

“Do not concern yourself. I'm sure I did well.” Trunks sipped his tea. “I'd like to stay in this university, but we'll see. Though, I'm sure my mom will fund you further, anyway.” He sipped again. “Hey, what kind of tea is it? It's pretty good,” he turned to the secretary who was secretly looking through a small crack between the wall and the door. Trunks chuckled at the gasp and sound of stumbling the secretary produced.

 

The provost just blinked at Trunks several times. He was going to have a stern talk with the secretary but it disturbed him to realize that Trunks was seriously and insistently looking at the door and waiting for the answer.

 

“Eh… should I call her?” He brushed over his gray hair.

 

Trunks' blue eyes concentrated on him. “Ah, no. I'll ask while leaving. I suppose I should find it in the Net so I could order it,” he smelled the tea. “It has a very pleasant aroma to it… And it's not too strong and not too mild…”

 

The provost shifted from one foot to another.

 

Trunks finished the last drops of his tea and stood up. “Well, it was nice talking to you,” he nodded. “If anything, call me - I'll leave my phone number for your secretary. I doubt she'd loose it,” he chuckled, shaking the provost's hand.

 

XXXXX

 

He was content. Even if there had been unexpected problems that he didn't expect, which had upset him, everything had solved out and he had also got the sort of the tea he liked. Actually he got a whole pack of it; the blushing secretary apologized greatly and begged him to take it.

 

“Hmm?” On his way downstairs, Trunks stopped to look at a young man who was gaping at him.

 

“Trunks? Trunks Briefs?” the man cast his eyes over Trunks' blue ragged jeans, red sleeveless shirt, black sneakers and light blue denim jacket in Trunks' hand; it wasn't cold anymore. The man's wide eyes then took in Trunks' black hair. “What the hell has happened to you?” he finally stammered out.

 

“Who are you?” Trunks weighed his jacket in his hand before flinging it over his shoulder. He observed the man against him closely: in his early twenties, quite short, with short blond dyed hair. Trunks found he rather liked the big earring in his left ear.

 

The young man blinked. “Eh?”

 

“I got into some stupid accident and have amnesia, so I have no idea who you are,” Trunks explained. That earned him a long brown-eyed stare.

 

“Oh.”

 

“So?”

 

“Err… I'm Kanou Reyatsu…” Kanou ruffled through his bright hair obviously flustered. “I'm in the same group as you…”

 

“Ah,” Trunks nodded. “Have we been…friends?”

 

Kanou sheepishly smiled. “Not really… We just are in the same group…”

 

“In other words, you didn't like him,” Trunks shrugged, smoothing his dark hair after the passing by breeze ruffled it.

 

“Eh? Whom?” Kanou asked. “Oh…” he drawled then. “Well, I wouldn't say that we didn't get along… It's just that…”

 

“He was unpleasant to your senses…” Trunks laughed. “Everybody keeps telling me that…”

 

“Well, he did hang out with Kiore, though…” Kanou scratched his blond head. “He's…”

 

“Yeah, I know who he is,” Trunks nodded. “Trunks had a bad taste for friends…”

 

Kanou blinked then nodded. “Yeah…” he agreed. “Keep away from Kiore.”

 

“Hey, why don't we go to a café? I'm kinda hungry and I saw one nearby?” Trunks suggested. “But it's your treat,” he grinned widely. “Have not a cent on me…” he produced a victory sign at Kanou's disbelieving face.

 

Kanou looked at a bag he was carrying and thought for a moment. “Well, if you'd wait for me. I have to give my dissertation first…”

 

“Okay,” Trunks nodded. “I'll just wait here,” he motioned to the same bench where he had been watching the old woman feed pigeons earlier.

 

XXXXX

 

So he finally got his treat for free meal. Already after hearing Kanou pronounce his first words, he was sure Kanou wouldn't refuse to treat him. It was obvious.

 

Kanou was easy to talk to but the man was as useful as a heater in the middle of summer. He knew nothing of Trunks' affairs. Though, he knew several of Goten's, which made the conversation bearable.

 

Kanou was gay. So gay that it was pouring in waves off of him. So gay that after talking half an hour with the man, Trunks felt it was starting to affect him. The manner and tone of talking and moving was driving Trunks crazy. He had nothing against gay people, but it simply hurt his senses.

 

He had never noticed anything like this in Goten's behavior. True, some of Goten's manners had that particular taste to them. But Kanou probably had some kind of disorder with his hormones or maybe the lack of them at all.

 

“Will you cut waving your hand like that?” Trunks said. “And your hair is fine - stop smoothing it or one day it will fall off.”

 

Kanou blinked at him. He painted bright red.

 

Trunks sighed. “I'm not going to fuck you. Don't even think about that,” he pushed his empty plate away. He cocked his head to the side after Kanou choke on his meal and started coughing his head off.

 

“Who says I want that?!” Kanou managed after he got his voice back, and his eyes stopped watering. He grabbed a glass of water from the table.

 

“Oh, c'mon,” Trunks rolled his eyes. “One has to be blind or have no sense of smell at all…”

 

Kanou downed the glass down then put it back onto the table.

 

“You had infatuation for Trunks long ago, didn't you?” Trunks sipped his tea. “Observing him from the distance and hoping he'd notice you… But he never did, did he? Or when he did, he looked at you with disgust… So you figured you'd have more chances with me… Ah well, I have to disappoint you - I'm not into boys either.”

 

Kanou silently motioned for the waiter and asked for more water. “Well, it was you who invited me to have a meal with you…”

 

“My bad,” Trunks nodded. “I didn't know you had been interested in Trunks… I just wanted information…”

 

Kanou sighed. “Information?” he asked.

 

Trunks waved off. “You have already told me everything you knew,” he said.

 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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