Here's another one-shot – my first time trying something in a first person POV. I thought I'd take an alternative angle with the whole T/P thing – from the point of view that Pan is actually too young to be with Trunks, and her outlook on him in general.

Your feedback would be greatly appreciated as I feel this is an area of my writing that I need a lot of work on.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball

It wasn't as much as an obsession, but more than an infatuation.

I felt bitter resentment, knowing that I was born a little too late to even be in with a chance with my lavender-haired friend. He shouldn't rub it in my face though.

There were times when we were in space when I thought that we honestly could be together – our relationship changed over the course of that year – he started to respect me, and actually look at me in a more mature light.

So he should! I am mature, I'm eighteen years old for Kami's sake, surely that should be the age when he should realise I'm truly ready for him. I've waited years, long agonising years; yet he never seems to have noticed. Granted, I don't have the stunning looks of Bra or Marron - I'm positively pig-like in comparison. Short, under-developed, more masculine than anything else I suppose.

But I was taught never to base one's impression on looks alone; wasn't he brought up with the same regard?

I've dreamt of him every night since I was fifteen. Every night he comes to me and teases me, embracing the passionate love I feel for him, returning my feelings with a zest and vigour I couldn't even imagine.

As I grew older, and wiser, the dreams became more intense. The feelings and hot, sweaty encounters we shared together became all the more real and the disappointment I felt upon dawn breaking was becoming unbearable.

I'm not a naïve, little girl anymore, I am a woman. Can't he see that? Every time I'm forced to go to Capsule Corp. with my parents for Bulma's mandatory get-togethers it's as though the knife of unrequited love is twisted in a little further, a little deeper.

I can't stand the way he ruffles my hair as though I'm still a pre-teen, the way he still asks if I want to sneak off and get ice-cream. Doesn't he get it? I want to sneak off and get him.

And so time passes, as it has done oh-so slowly since I first realised that I would save myself for no-one except him.

We were settling in, ready for our final descent to Earth, anticipating the rough ride that would come from entering the thick atmosphere of our home planet.

Landings would always make me nervous, I was always terrified that something would go wrong and we would perish in a fiery ball of spaceship; stupid, huh? How I would think nothing of infiltrating enemy alien bases head on without a game plan, but cower in fear at something as simple as a landing.

Trunks had noticed my edgy demeanour, how I kept on shifting from side to side in the large seat to my left of his, how I would avert my gaze from the large windows framing the control panel in front of us.

He placed his hand on top of mine (which was squeezing the life out of the poor, unsuspecting armrest) with such a tender touch it made my breath get caught in my throat, resulting in a not-so-attractive gasping gulp type noise. Luckily, he took the revolting sound as another expression of my worry, flashing me that heart-stopping smile and moving his thumb over the top of my hand in a soothing rhythm.

That was when I knew. That was when I realised that this would be the man who would guide me through life, give me strength and courage when I needed it; the man who I would unconditionally love until I breathed my last.

So why couldn't he see that we were meant to be? Why was I now watching him walk up the aisle with another – an inferior, no doubt – she wasn't a Saiya-jin, she didn't understand our urges, our nature. She only understood the suave shell of the CEO, not the warrior who had killed for the benefit of mankind.

I sat back in the third row with my parents and my uncle, begging the tears not to come. They didn't. I wouldn't lower myself to that sort of level.

They exchanged vows, softly, sweetly. His gaze into her eyes so full of love, a silent promise to her and no-one else; yet I couldn't shake the feeling that it was meant to be me.

So I sit here, still watching, still waiting.

Waiting until he realises just what he's missing.