A/N: Wow….this is extremely unlike me. It's unheard of me writing fics from Trunks's point of view, but what can I say, I was bored! It'salso unheard of me writing a one-shot. It is near impossible for me to compose storiesin such a short amount of words.Besides, I've had the song runnin around in my head for about 2 weeks now, and it was practically begging to be turned into a one-shot! So here it is! (makes trumpet sound) "Home"!
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, not the song "Home" By Three Days Grace
Home
Home,
Home, this house is not a home
Home, this house is not a home……
I slam the door behind me as I walk into the building once known as the headquarters, dubbed "Capsule Corp", of the brilliant scientist Bulma Briefs. My mother, that is. "Home again," some teens might say as they return to their living residence. But I know full well that this large house was no longer a home. It has not been since mom passed on a year ago.
I'll be coming home, just to be alone
Cause I know you're not there
And I know that you don't care
I can hardly wait to leave this place
I can hardly hear Bulla and her friend gabbering about one thing or another over the telephone, and I ignore the dirty look she gives me upon entering the large kitchen. She's gotten so snotty over the past year. But then, all of us have changed. Especially dad and I.
"Brat…" His growl is sharp and ruthless as it comes from the doorway.
A year ago, I would've been hurt by it. But then, a year ago, I would not have received a remark like that in such a tone…
"Where have you been?"
I turn my eyes toward him, glaring just as viciously at him as he does me. "Out." The hiss escapes my lips rather quickly…too quickly. Bulla must sense the impeding violence, for she's picked up the cordless and left for her bedroom, but not before shooting me a worried look. I try to give her a reassuring smile, but she knows all too well what well happen. For her young age of thirteen, she has seen far too much.
"I asked you a question brat…" He bellows. I shrug and slip my jacket of, pausing to look at the CC logo emblazoned on it.
"What do you care where I was?"
"I am the head of this household and this family," He hisses, advancing. "I have a right to know what goes on in it…"
I growl back at him, this time allowing my eyebrows to narrow and my spine to stiffen. "If you really must know I was out sparring with Goten. To become stronger." His lips flick upward in a snarl. I sigh inwardly. "I just can't win…"
No matter how hard I try
You're never satisfied
This is not a home
I think I'm better off alone
You always disappear
Even when you're here
Thisis not my home
I think I'm better off alone
Home,
Home, this house is not a home
Home, this house is not a home
"Well that's what you want, isn't it?" I continue curtly, my voice rising slightly in pitch. He is silent for a moment. My father has changed much in the past year. The others would've described him as cold before, but mother, Bulla, and I knew better. He was a good father, in his own way. He'd never lay a finger on any of us, outside of sparring. But the same cannot be said now. Mother's death has…altered him…
I barely have time to recover after the first punch is thrown. The counter top collides with the small of my back, and I try dizzily to right myself and glare some more at him.
"What have a told you about hanging out with Kakarot's brat?"
Gingerly, I reassume my upright position and stare at him with icy eyes. Numbness, I've learned, is the only way out of these kind of fights. He will eventually walk away if I show no emotion. But it still stings. It still hurts.
By the time you come home
I'm already stoned
You turn off the TV
And you scream at me
I can hardly wait
Till you get off my case
"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" I scream mentally, staring into those molten obsidian orbs of his. My own eyes watch as his hand clenches against the smooth surface of the counter, then digs unknowingly into it. Some unseen emotion flickers across his visage, but he only allows it a moment's existence.
"There are other ways of becoming stronger." The blunt reply falls on only half-listening ears.
"Such as…? I can't train with you. You'd kill me for sure."
His mouth turns upward in a snarl again, and this time his teeth show.
No matter how hard I try
You're never satisfied
This is not a home
I think I'm better off alone
You always disappear
Even when you're here
This is not my home
I think I'm better off alone
"You know I could never do that, Trunks." His cold tone is soft for a moment, and I refuse to believe what my ears have just heard. He has just used my name. For once, he has not called me "boy" or "brat". The world as I know it has just been turned upside down.
"Loss…" His words are slow, and halted. "…has strange ways of changing people, as I'm sure you know."
I glare at him, and make sure that he understands, that yes, I know for a fact.
"Boy…" He growls as I turn my back. "I am not finished."
Home
Home, this house is not a home
Home, this house is not a home
Home, this house is not a home
Home, this house is not a home
Perhaps I'll humor him today. I turn back around, still glaring, still forcing my mind to be numb as I have taught myself to be for the past twelve months of hell. He closes his eyes, and his body shudders oddly. There is a sense of uneasiness about my father that I have never felt before. "I have…not meant…to act the way…I have been…as of late…"
My eyes blink of their own will as he stutters, his own still closed, figure trembling. This is the most emotion I have ever seen in him since mother died...unless anger counts.
"I…I understand that you are trying only to respect my wishes for you, brat…" His voice is…different, but I cannot decipher how. "I also understand…that…you have been planning on leaving for East City once you receive your diploma." His chiseled features are taunt, and something with a similarity to lead sinks down into my stomach. I had not counted on him figuring that out. No doubt I am in for the worst beating of my life. But…something in his tone suggests otherwise.
His ebony eyes are open again, but they still betray no emotion. "I do not mean to fight you as I do, Trunks."
I look away, dazed by his comment, focusing on the kitchen floor. That is the closest he will come to saying an actual apology. I am shocked.
There are no words between us for an eternity that is in reality, only a few minutes. A quiet understanding has formed. We both had our ways of dealing with death. I became rebellious and withdrawn. He became angry and controlling. He is the first to walk away, brushing past me to pad quietly up the stairs. We exchange glances, for no words are needed, as he departs. I may not ever truly forgive him, but I don't think that's what he wants entirely. I turn and smile at his retreating back. My father has always been a reserved man, and always will be. But he will never let his family know the suffering endured. While he may have "disappeared" for nearly this entire year, hope still remains, somewhere in there. Bulla has come back down the stairs, smiling brightly once she realizes I'm not bloody, nor am I bruised. We all may still be slightly broken, but that does not mean things cannot be mended. Perhaps, if we really try, we canturn this house back into a home.
A/N: sooo? What'd you think? Review please! I'd like to know if I kept Trunks (he's supposed to be about 18 or 19 in this fic) in character, in most of my stories, he's not even born yet. Like I said, reviews are very appreciated, however, flames, are not.
Roux: mocking voice If you don't have anything nice to say…..blow up your opponent instead! cackles
General: sweat drop why me?……what monster have I created…?
At any rate, thanks for reading! Ja ne!