Disclaimer: Own nothing but the plotline used. That and the energy it took for me to actually sit down and write it before raising my hands to the keyboard and start keystroking.
A.N. : This is what happens when too much time on hand meets up with boredom and there's no cure. Dedicated to my friend, Fluffy (who by now, you should know is not her real name, but a nickname. If not, shame on you.), because she's the one that started me on this path when I complained about being left alone with nothing to do. Mistakes are on me. Enjoy! If You're Gone
Another night. Another nameless body to fuck. Another chance for drugs and alcohol to enter his system. He walks into the club, eyes scanning the room for prospective candidates to leave with. Steps light, strut confident, aura tinted with arousal, he oozed with the signs of an alpha male on the prowl for his prey. An impression that left a trail of broken hearts in his wake, melted the bones and morals of the females he caught the eyes of, and sent up warning bells in the minds of all other males. Trunks Briefs has arrived.
Unconcerned eyes skimmed over all the scantly clad females within his range of sight. No one interesting and no one new. He's had them all once before. Turning towards the bar, he ordered a shot of vodka on the rocks. Nodding his head in thanks when the drink was placed in front of him, his attention was caught… and so was he. And that's how he came to be sitting in a hospital hallway in a bloody tuxedo, waiting for news on how she was doing.
Blood covered hands rose to cover his face before he caught sight of gold hidden within red. Tears from nowhere fell as reality finally caught up. Blood. Her blood. He was covered with her blood.
"Oh God…" were the whispered words of a man condemned to watch his love suffer for his mistakes.
"Trunks!" His head shot up at the shout and eyes locked with his sister's. "How is she? Have you heard anything yet?"
All he could do was shake his head negative. Arms came up to wrap around him and with that, the first of many sobs erupted.
"My fault, Bra. It's my fault she's here. It's all my fault."
"Trunks, you cannot possibly think that, can you? It was not your fault that this happened. If it's anyone's fault, it's the fucking asshole who decided to drive while under the influence of intoxication. This was not your fault, do you hear me?"
"It was my fault that she was there in the first place. And it's my fault I've lost the person I love."
"Lost? Trunks, she's not dead. We don't know what's going on and we won't until the fucking doctor tells us anything about her condition."
"You don't understand, Bra. She ended up in front of that car because of me. She caught me fooling around with one of the guest and she ran out. I went after her and grabbed her and that's when it happened. She saw the car coming and pushed me out of the way. It wasn't suppose to be her lying on that operation table. It was suppose to be me. If she dies, she dies with her last impression of me fucking another woman and I live with the reality that she died saving me… loving me. If she survives, I've still lost her."
Bra stared in stunned silence. Her hand rose on its own accordance and all that was heard was flesh hitting flesh before a deafening silence fell over the hallway.
"You cheated on her?! You fucking asshole! What in the nine hells compelled you to do such a thing? God, Trunks!"
"I don't know. Force of habit, I guess…"
"Force of habit? That's all you've got to say? Trunks, your 'force of habit' may have just cost that young lady her life. If you knew you'd never able to commit, then why the fuck did you ask her to marry you? Is this your fucked up sense of a sick joke? Because if it is, I suggest you let her go and find someone who's willing to love her wholeheartedly or so help me, I'll make you regret it for the rest of your miserable life."
"It wasn't a joke. I wanted to commit. I wanted her. I still do. I love her, Bra. I love her. I made a mistake, I fucked up, but I love her."
She took a long look at her brother and felt her anger fade. Lavender hair matted to his scalp by the drying blood, cheeks splattered in red, eyes puffy and dull, tears tracking a trail down his face in a steady stream, posture that screamed of defeat.
"You really do love her, don't you?" she asked gently as she retook her seat next to him.
"More than life itself. She was the one night stand that stayed. I don't know how I lived without her in the past, and I don't know how I'd live without her in the future. I can't lose her, Bra. I can't."
"Shhhh…" she cooed as she rocked him back and forth gently like a mother with her child.
And they spent the night praying. She praying that God would not be so unmerciful to take back the angel they all came to love. He praying for a second chance to correct his mistakes. Both praying for the life of one: Pan Son.
The End
A.N. : May or may not have a sequel. Depends on your thoughts and opinions. Thanks for flying with My Imagination. Watch your step and hope to see you on the next adventure.