Night Terrors

Goten felt paralysis freeze his entire body. His eyes soon started to burn, because he couldn't even blink. He could only watch as a deadly beam was charged up, with a sinister purpose.

"H-hey!" Trunks watched the proceedings with eyes as wide as Goten's. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like? Defeating Kakarot in the only way he can be defeated," the stern-looking stranger succinctly explained. He smirked as he looked at Goten's vulnerable form, frozen in place. He would strike at the family of the soft-hearted Saiyan. Their deaths were the only way to break Kakarot's morale and spirit, the only way to make him give up his will to live. The only way to kill him. There was a part of him that was sorry for the collateral damage, but that part wasn't enough to prevent him from doing it.

Trunks glared at the man. He didn't know who this creep was, or how Goku had managed to make this particular enemy, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the intense concentration of energy balled up in his hands and aimed right at his friend. He felt rage building inside him. He was a dam ready to burst. "Your fight is with Goku! Go take it up with him! Or are you so weak you have to murder a kid?"

"Trunks, just go, it'll be okay," Goten pleaded.

Trunks looked at Goten's face and saw no anger, blame, or fear. Not fear for himself, anyway, fear that he should rightfully have. Even now, all he was thinking about was Trunks's safety. He wasn't even wasting the energy giving this enemy a second thought. Despite his irritation that Goten had even for one moment expected him to just abandon him here, Trunks was glad that Goten wasn't afraid. Trunks was terrified enough for the both of them.

It was funny now, how Goten, the sillier and less aggressive of the duo, was the one helping Trunks to be brave. Yet, wasn't that the way it had always been? Content to sit on the sidelines and let Trunks take the glory, Goten had always been Trunks's source of support. Though Trunks prided himself on knowing much more academically and street smart-wise than the innocent boy, Goten's perception and compassion for people was stronger and arguably more valuable. Goten came from a poor family, but he always seemed happy at home. Trunks had all the money and power one could ask for, but he stayed at Goten's more often than not because of all the love there that just didn't exist in his home. Money was just paper, and even being a prince, as opposed to Goten's low-class rank—even that didn't matter. Goten was still the better friend, the stronger warrior, the superior one. Trunks knew that now. He'd always known it, even if he didn't always treat Goten like he did. He'd always put on airs of superiority, partly because it was what his father had expected of him, partly because it was the only way to manage in his household, but mostly out of insecurity. Out of being afraid of how Goten would react to realizing how much better he really was than Trunks. How he didn't need Trunks…it was the other way around.

That was what it always came down to. Trunks was ruled by fear. Goten wasn't. Goten didn't have to be. He had the most beautiful soul a person could have. Trunks was a coward, and he knew it. He was scared of dying, scared of this whole situation, but he couldn't hesitate, because the man with the vendetta certainly wasn't as he launched his thick beam and it cut through the air. He realized in that moment, as the reality of Goten's imminent death solidified, that the thing he was afraid of most in the world was losing Goten. And so, as always, Goten helped him shed his fears of pain, of death.

He flung himself into the path of the beam, holding his arms out to his sides to completely shield Goten's slightly smaller body, leaving his own defenseless. He could vaguely hear Goten's screaming and sobbing his name, again and again, and he wanted to turn and comfort him, but the unimaginable pain searing through his chest made it hard to concentrate on anything else. He felt his ribs breaking and collapsing in shattered fragments on his deflating lungs, tearing easily through flesh and muscle to mince his beating heart.

Unbelievably, it wasn't stopping there. Trunks panicked as he felt the blast ripping through him—through him, all the way! It was going to go through his back, killing Goten after all. He'd failed to protect him, only made it so they'd both die. Ironic, like some sort of bizarre Romeo and Juliet. He felt the hot energy beginning to crack his spine and burst through his back. It was just as well; at least he wouldn't have to live in a world without Goten now, but it was hard not to feel bitter. No, no, no…

Out of crazy desperation, Trunks got an idea. He had to at least try it. Even though he could feel his energy depleting, even though he was in the most intense agony he'd ever been in, even though he was eight years old and it should have been impossible, he reached inside himself and unleashed the Super Saiyan transformation. In the middle of being speared by the beam, his hair slowly flickered from its normal purple to mystical gold, his pained eyes staring defiantly at his murderer fading from blue to teal. And! His skin became just a smidge tougher. Just enough that he was able to contain the blast within his body alone.

Mercifully, the beam ended, and Trunks fell to his knees as if he'd been held up by an invisible string and the puppetmaster had dropped the controls. He gagged and choked on his own blood.

It was a horrible feeling. The only consolation was Goten's arms around him, lying him horizontally. He felt Goten's hot tears on his face, his words barely comprehensible. Trunks hated to see his friend cry, but he had to admit even now that the sensation of those drops wasn't the worst last thing to feel.

"T-trunks, w-why did you do that?" Goten was hiccupping, asking it over and over.

Trunks smirked, but he was too tired to reply. It was such a useless question; how could Goten not know? He felt his damaged heart stutter, and as his vision began to fade, he noticed that Goku and his own father had arrived on the scene, no doubt alerted by the insanely-fluctuating ki signatures. Well, that was all right. Now he knew Goten would be safe. Maybe that was all his body had been waiting for, to give out entirely…

Goten sat up with a start. His body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat, which always happened when he had that dream—memory. He felt the strain of his trousers against his crotch and grimaced. That too was typical, and confusing. It wasn't that the memory itself was arousing to Goten, certainly not. In fact, now that he was remembering it fully, awake and rational, the image of Trunks's bleeding, battered body, crushed torso, unseeing, glazed eyes, effectively made Goten's hard-on shrivel up and disappear.

It was just that, sometimes he'd been unsure of Trunks's affections. Sometimes he was still unsure, but then he'd remember that, remember what Trunks had sacrificed for him. He supposed that was why he felt safe and protected whenever he was with Trunks now. Why he felt so important. He loved feeling that way. He loved…

Stop. Stop right there.

But deep down, Goten couldn't stop. He pulled the covers up to his chin. Even though it was the middle of the night, he was too disturbed to go one second longer without hearing Trunks's voice. He seized the phone on his bedside table and punched in the number.

It was the fifth ring before Trunks picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Trunks! You were awake?"

"No."

Even the groggy, short-tempered grumble was enough to reassure Goten. Trunks was alive. He was there when Goten called. Goten felt his body relaxing.

"Something up?" Trunks ventured, stifling a yawn.

Goten decided to go with a half-truth. "I just really wanted to talk to you." After a pause, he decided to confess, "I was thinking about the time you got killed again."

Trunks laughed. "That was a long time ago, and I got wished back hours later."

"You never answered me." Goten hadn't realized he was going to ask, and he nervously licked his dry lips. "Why you did that." A bunch of unrelated thoughts flitted through his mind—how Trunks never had a girlfriend, and how absurdly glad Goten was of that fact.

"I had to," Trunks said. Simply. As if it was simple. But it wasn't! Goten felt himself pouting.

"That's not the sort of thing you do for someone who's just a friend to you, is it?" Goten blurted out. He turned red immediately. What had possessed him to say that? He knew as soon as he questioned it and glared down at the offending body part.

Trunks was quiet for a moment. Then he answered. "No. I don't suppose it is."

Wait. Did that mean? Goten's heart stuttered. He was a dam ready to burst.

"Let's talk about it in the morning. And no more nightmares, all right?"

Goten promised, and he was as good as his word. For the rest of the night, he had only sweet dreams, even if they were a little wet.