What Hurt the Most
Rating: PG- writing is mature and not intended for younger audiences.
WitchyPrincess
I spent the entire plane ride thinking about him. My heart pounding in my chest with incredible apprehension as I wondered how he would greet me. It had been such a long time, I could hardly remember the creases in his face when he smiled, could hardly imagine his touch. Three years.
He could turn away from me this time, refuse to forgive me. But, inside, I knew he would not. He never had. He'd always been there for me, my savior, whenever I needed him. But I hadn't made it easy on him; every chance I got, I think, I hurt him in some way. It wasn't intentional, of course, and by the time I realized that I was making loving me so hard on him, it broke my own heart to admit it.
And yet, here I was again, coming back from something that had undoubtedly made loving me ten times harder. He should have walked out on me a million times and he never had, I knew he never would. That didn't ease this strain in my heart, this time though, didn't erase the apprehension that told me I was about to face an obstacle I had never encountered before. This time I'd face his wrath.
He'd asked me to marry him before I left and I turned him down. Not because I didn't love him, didn't want to spend the rest of my life with him, or even because I had doubts that we would do just that, but because I knew there was something else I had to do first. Thinking about it now, I still can't believe it. I couldn't possibly make anyone understand it without taking them through the whole thing, word for word, event for event, starting with the beginning of my life. But I don't have the patience, or the inclination, to explain myself so thoroughly.
Suffice it to say, I had reasons for doing what I did and took great pains in explaining them to him before I left. So there would be no confusion, of course. So that he would know how much I loved him and had every intention of coming back to him. But, if I didn't do this, chase this dream, I would never have been able to live without wondering what could have become of it. And now I knew.
I could have had everything I ever dreamed, riches and fame, fans, love, devotion from the American Industry. I could have been bigger than Elizabeth Taylor, there. I could have conquered the fashion industry with my inventiveness and creativity, but I'd chosen him instead. I'd chosen home, Japan, and Trunks. He can't possibly be mad at me after I tell him I gave it all up for him. Can he?
....
I stepped off the plane with as much apprehension as ever building up inside my veins. I'd be seeing him at any moment, looking into his gorgeous eyes and losing myself in his heart-wrenching smile. Then, he'll take me in his arms, tell me how much he missed me, how deeply he loves me, and command that I never, ever leave him again. My life will be complete in a matter of minutes.
I looked around the loading area curiously, excitedly, surveying for his lavender hair to stand out above anyone else. I soon spotted it and ran in my pink stilettoes, not bothering modesty, and calling out his name. I didn't stop running when he turned towards my direction, a smile that caused the dimple in his left cheek to show lighting his face, as I jumped right into his arms.
He spun me around with a laugh, placing a soft kiss on my forehead and squeezing my middle before letting me go.
"It's been a long time," I whispered dreamily, my arms still encircled around his neck, holding on for dear life. He was still smiling as he looked down on me to respond, moving a stray strand of hair from my face in the process.
"Let's go get your luggage, Pie Face, we've got a lot to talk about." He removed my arms from his neck and claimed one of my hands, intertwining his fingers with mine. I nearly choked on my happiness at being with him, nodding and following his lead to the luggage area. Yes, we had three years worth of catching up to do. Three years worth of love to make. Dende, how did I ever leave him?
....
Something was wrong. I could tell all through lunch. He kept looking at his watch, then checking over his shoulder. And he kept flashing that false, I'm-really-nervous, smile in my direction. His eyes were shining with a nervousness greater than mine and I wanted desperately to draw him in my arms and hold him. Make him forget that I'd hurt him, make him forgive me before he told me how much he wished I hadn't walked away from him. I was sure that's what it was. He was simply upset that I had left.
But there was still an easy, fulfilling attraction between us that led me into a sort of security. Led me to believe things were better than ever between us. As if he had forgiven me before I even arrived. I could see in his face that there was something he wanted to say to me, something that he didn't know how to say, and I was on my second piece of pie before I had the nerve to ask him.
"Trunks, you know that I'm still completely crazy about you, right?" I smiled lightly, thinking this would make him smile but he only lowered his eyes and swallowed hard before he drew his light blue orbs back up to mine. I felt my stomach fill with a million butterflies, my heart pound a whole different tune, before I had the courage to go on.
"But I'm not blind, despite that handicapped." I joked, tilting my head to the side so that my hair slid over my face in a seductive manner I knew, from experience, that he enjoyed. He didn't crack a smile even. Instead he swallowed again, looking lost, and tried to open his mouth and speak. No words came out. I sighed, scooting my chair over and resting my small hand on his, pink manicured nails drawing a light pattern on his fingers. He shifted, as if uncomfortable, and I removed my hand almost instantly, giving him a look that, I'm sure, made me appear as if he'd burned me.
"Look, it's not-" I didn't let him continue.
"Something's wrong, I see it in your eyes, in your actions. Tell me what it is." It was a command, a softly given one, but one just the same. He sighed and moved away from me in his seat, turning so that our eyes locked with one another's.
Suddenly, I didn't want to hear what he had to say. I didn't want to know why he wasn't holding onto me, why he wasn't telling me how much he loved me. I didn't want to know what changed him so much that he didn't want to tell me never to leave him again. But he opened his mouth anyway, and the words spilled out without me having to want to hear them.
"Things have changed, I know you can tell. I'm in love with someone else, we're engaged."
My heart stopped, my breathing became labored, I was too shocked to move. I felt as if everything in me, every piece of me; my heart, my lungs, my brain, my stomach; had settled in my knees. I felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of me. He placed one of his wonderful hands on my shoulder, pulling me to him as I remembered how to breathe. He ran his fingers through my hair, soothing me back into reality, drawing me back to the present with calming words told to my ear in a whisper.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's going to be okay, I promise." He repeated them over and over until I drew my face away from his shoulder. Until I realized that there were tears flowing down my cheeks and my nose had to be turning red because I was sniffing something ridiculous. I placed one of my hands on my face, shaking despite trying to regain my calm, and wiped the tears away. Then I drew in a deep breath and covered my face completely, with both my hands, as I lost my composure again.
I must have cried for ten or fifteen minutes before I was able to calm down enough to face him again. But still, I couldn't form any words. Still, I was too shocked. He was getting married to someone. Someone that wasn't me. He was in love with her.
But what hurt the most was, if I had stayed, if I had accepted him when he asked me, we would already be married right now. We would have been married for three years. I would be his wife instead of losing him right now. I couldn't believe the injustice of it. I thought, had always thought for sure, that he would wait for me. I wanted to throw my water in his face, but more than that I wanted to beat myself over the head with the glass.
This was my fault, that was what hurt the most. I wanted him, couldn't have him, and would always only ever want him. But he was happy with someone else.
He sat in silence while I had my fit, rubbing his hands over my back and caressing me as best he could while I lost my sense again and again. Then, when I was ready to speak, he removed his hand and erased all emotion from his face, preparing to take whatever onslaught I threw at him.
"I thought I'd always have your heart." My voice cracked on the statement, sounding pitiful even to my ears. And I had the chance to have all your love, I thought bitterly, but now I have nothing.
"I know." He nodded solemnly, lowering his head, his eyes, from shame I supposed. But maybe it was pity, I didn't know because he wouldn't let me see the expression. "I'm sorry."
"You're in love." I corrected, my voice coming out harsher than intended. "With who, Trunks? Who are you in love with? Who are you marrying, if not me?" I think, in my own mind, I was daring him to come up with someone suitable. Someone who was better than me, not believing there was such a person.
Who could love him the way I did? No one. Who could need him the way I did? No one, I was sure. I hated the thought of there being someone else in his life, someone new. Someone that he touched, that he loved, the way he loved me. Someone that he whispered sweet nothings to, someone whose cheeks he ran his fingers down and promised to always care for. I nearly cried again but wouldn't allow myself the humiliation.
This was my fault, I reminded myself again as I waited for his response.
"She's on her way, you'll see her."
"You invited her to our lunch?" I sounded wounded, slightly incredulous, I knew. But, damn it, that was just cruel. He was going to rub his love in my face. He knew how much he meant to me.
"I thought you'd like to see her again."
I quirked an eyebrow at him with vengeance. "I know her?"
"You do."
"And you thought, that after this, I'd want to see her?"
"So you'd know I wasn't lying. So you'd know I really am madly in love, so you'd know that I hadn't planned it but that there's no changing it now. That I'm sorry, but this is where my heart is. She's where my heart is."
"You thought I wanted to see this?" I repeated, trying not to scream. "Who is it, Trunks, before I lose my patience? Tell me, please."
"You won't believe me if I tell you. You'll have to see her. I promise she'll be here in a moment or two."
"Does she know about us?" I tried again to get information about her out of him, he smiled softly as he nodded.
"That's why I fell in love with her. I tell her everything, you see. She's a great listener, rarely talks about herself, but she listens to anything anyone has to say. She has a spirit, too, and this wonderfully strong disposition. She loves me something fierce, and she was always there when I needed someone to confide in."
"So that's it, then? She listens to you and I run away from you, right?"
"It wasn't a comparison, sweetheart, simply a statement. She's everything and I couldn't even begin to try and compare her to some else, simply because she's in a class all her own. You two are so different it'd be like trying to describe the similarities between a television and a star, there's no correlation."
These words gripped my heart and made me feel desperately inadequate. I stood then, straightening my white designer-shirt with pink stripes, and running my hands along my black skirt to ease out any wrinkles. There was no question as to which of us was the television and which was the star.
"I'm sorry, Trunks, I wish I could be happy for you. I wish that I could tell you congratulations, have a wonderful life, and then detatch myself completely from the situation. Steal my heart back from your hands, but I can't. I can't smile and wish you the best. I can't tell you I'm happy that things are working out or that I want to see the woman that captured you in a way I never could. I would rather go the rest of my life never knowing who she is, and I[d rather she not see my flushed face. I[d rather she not see how inadequate I am."
My voice was getting close to tears again, running the risk of bringing water from my silver-blue eyes again. "I simply can't do this. I just wish you could promise me you'll never touch her the way you touch me, love her the way you loved me. But I know that would be impossibly selfish. Have a nice life, Trunks."
I turned and was about to walk out of his life forever, without taking a glance to see how shocked his face was by my admission, when I heard it. The voice that I knew but couldn't place, some person, some woman, calling my name as if we were old friends. Coming this way. And I knew, she was the one that stole my heart from me. I turned back slowly as she said my name again, looking at her with all the decency I could muster.
"Marron," She spoke softly as she approached us, a smile on her dark-white skin.
Her complexion was striking, not fair like most, but dark like a Spaniard. Her hair was a deep, dark, black, tied back into a french braid and held with a white pony-tail holder. Her cheeks were pink, slightly flushed from having run over to the table we were sitting out on the pavilion outside the restaurant. Her teeth were perfect and yet, every feature about her was plain. Her pink lips were round, not too thin, but not full, and her chocolate eyes were anything but striking.
She wasn't magnificently beautiful, breathtakingly stunning. She was barely even pretty, and even then, more plan than attractive. The only thing she had going for her was the youth and excitement in her thin face. The white summer shirt and dark shorts she was wearing did nothing to accentuate her figure and I thought, for a moment, that surely this was a mistake. My Trunks wasn't leaving me for this. For her. For Pan.
And then I watched their eyes meet. I had to blink, then wipe my own orbs to fully believe the transformation. He touched her hand and her face glowed, she lit up as she pulled a chair beside the table. And I had to take a seat again because I was dumbfounded. It was like I was looking at a different person. She was still just as skinny, just a figure less, still just as bland. But, for some reason, there was an aerial glow about her as she looked at him, her fingers enveloped in his. Her face didn't seem as skinny, her smile as hopeless. Her eyes transformed from boring and dull to wondrously mind-bottling.
She still wasn't glorious, not at all like some magazine beauty or even normal type of heart-stopping, but for some reason, as I sat across from her, I could see that I in no way measured up. She was...radiant... And I couldn't compete with that type of glow.
I'm gorgeous, I know this. My hair, blond and mid-shoulder length, is slightly wavy and it drives guys insane. My eyes are big and blue, they always sparkle and, I've been told a thousand times, they light up the room. My face is round and plump, not skinny but definitely not fat either, and my figure is enough on its own to attract all the attention in the world. I have legs that run for miles, hips that make men stutter, and a chest worth bragging about. How ridiculous was it that I was sitting next to this skinny girl, one that could easily pass for a boy if not for her soft featured face, and yet I felt completely lacking? Sorrily inadequate?
I drew my hands into my lap as I looked at them, giving the best smile I could muster before clearing my throat. Pan turned toward me, looking as if she'd forgotten herself, a blush enveloping her face that made me jealous, and sighed airily.
"I'm so glad I didn't miss you. I was running late, you see, at the gym. I had to wait for a parent to arrive that was late, couldn't leave the poor child all alone."
"You work at a children's gym?" I asked, slightly haughtily, though I tried my best to be pleasant.
"I teach martial arts to little children, yes. Well, mostly adolescence, but sometimes I get kids under twelve. I know that doesn't seem like much to a big time fashion designer," Here I narrowed my eyes as she squeezed my love's hand for reassurance. "But I love my job."
"And you're good at it. It makes a difference in people's lives." Trunks defended, giving her a warm smile. This offended me; it was as if he were saying my job was pointless and a waste. How could he make it seem like I was wasting my life when she was the one that couldn't be making more than seven dollars an hour?
And what did it matter, I asked myself, when she was going to marry a billionaire? Not that I had ever wanted Trunks for his money, no, I loved him desperately, but it wasn't a point that had hurt. And now she would have all of him and I would have nothing but and empty career. A career that I had given up to be with him.
"I'm not a fashion designer anymore," I said, almost offhandedly. "I gave it up to come home."
Pan raised a dark eyebrow in surprise as Trunks sat back in his chair, drawing his hand away from Pan's. "Really?" The girl asked, curiosity lacing her voice, slight confusion creeping in. "After you gave up so much to pursue it?"
"I thought," My voice came out edgily, defensively. "That I was putting them on hold, you see, not giving them up." My eyes darkened so that she knew precisely what I was talking about. She sighed heavily and nodded her head.
"I realize that this is an absolute shock to you; you probably hate me right now, heaven knows I would hate you if I came home and found something like this out when I hadn't even expected it. And, I just wanted you to know that I never intended to hurt you, Marron, despite what you think of me.
"It's easy to see that I'm nothing special. I'm not pretty, nothing to get excited about, and you can imagine that I didn't have the slightest inkling he would fall in love with me. Sometimes, I still find it hard to believe. I only wanted to be close to him, Marron, I wasn't trying to be underhanded while you were away. I know you two were practically promised to each other, I know you've been in love with each other all your lives. And I only wanted you to know that I wasn't trying to steal him from you while you were away, only console him a little and the rest just happened."
I had a dry taste in my mouth, sour and metallic as Pan confirmed my fears. It was my fault. I'd practically pushed Trunks into Pan's arms, forced him to fall in love with someone else. And now that girl was sitting here, telling me what a stupid person I'd been, and it hurt like hell.
"Well, thank you for your loyalty Pan. I'm glad things worked out for the two of you, at least." I answered with as civil a tone as I could, standing again. "If you will excuse me."
"Marron," Pan interjected, standing up with me, a sorrowful look on her face. "Things will work out for you too, you know that don't you?"
"It's hard to imagine at the moment." I responded truthfully, my eyes filling with tears again despite myself.
"Do you think you'll ever forgive me?" My eyes drifted from her earnest face to the gleaming diamond on her ring finger as a tight hurt pressed into my gut. I shook my head, pushing blond hair back out of my face in the process.
"I don't know if I can." I told her, my voice cracking with the honestly of the moment.
"You're so gorgeous," She said suddenly, shaking her head along with me, her own eyes becoming misty as Trunks heard her tone and stood up as well, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I don't know how I got this lucky." I turned around, truly stricken by the scene.
"If you ever hurt him, Son, you'll have to answer to me." I told her evenly before walking away, not able to hear another word about the matter. Not able to believe the truth of what was happening.
Mr. And Mrs. Briefs and the latter was not christened Marron Chestnut. I couldn't believe it. All our lives he'd belonged to me, forgiven me everything, loved me passionately. All our lives I'd belonged to him and he'd belonged to me. And now, now he was hers. And she was his. And I was the one that walked away, like an idiot I walked away when I could have had him.
I'd been wrong about everything until now. I'd never known pain until this moment. Him, her, that look in his eyes when he touched her, that hurt the most. Trunks Briefs and Pan Son hurt the most.
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball/Z/GT, its characters, or the storyline to the anime. The only thing I own is this plot, and the way these words are arranged since it came from my little head onto this word-precessing paper. Suing would be a waste of time, I have nothing.
Review, if only to tell me when you realized the person in first person thought wasn't Pan. I'd like to know.