Son Pan's Foolproof Guide to Dating



[Author's Notes: Long time no see, eh? So here we go again... alternate universe, I own nothing, don't sue me. Trunks is around 21-ish and Pan is 16. (Which makes Bra around 15 and Goten's 20 if anyone cares. It's not as important.) I know they're really much farther apart, but those are just for my purposes. Comments are very very welcome, especially as the style (first-person) is a bit experimental. Thanks!]

Rule 1: Never trust a good looking guy.

He was cheating on me. I'd known it for a while, so when Bra said it, it really didn't come as much of a surprise. "I know." I may not be as intelligent as my father, and I know I'm not nearly as naive, but I'm not stupid. God, I'm not stupid.

"WHAT?" Bra really did look funny when she was angry, she had none of the reserve that ran so freely in Vegeta's and even Trunks' veins. Her expressions didn't hide. Icy blue eyes met my apathetic gaze and she nearly shouted, "Kill him! Wait, no... I'll kill him!"

I couldn't repress the laugh that came next, a laugh tainted with bitterness, a laugh that said, 'Kill him? I'd like to.' Clasping my hand over my mouth, I cursed myself mentally. My shoulders were shaking, my hands were shaking, my voice was shaking... "I'd like to."

"Be my guest," Bra replied coldly, having regained most of her cool. "Why haven't you dumped him yet?"

She said it so easily, so calmly, as if it were nothing. As if these feelings that rampaged within could be erased simply with those words. I had thought so too, once, and that had gotten me into this mess. It made me Trunks' girlfriend, the happiest girl in the world. But only for what seemed then like a moment. Just a moment of happiness. "...it was worth it."

"Wha?" Light sprinkles of confusion darkened her bright visage; a mask, probably, Bra's "comforting friend" mask, "What was worth it?"

I shrugged, "Nothing. Don't worry about me. I'll deal with it." I flashed a plastic smile and stood. Staying here any longer would only lead to a breakdown. Lying, to me, had become quite easy-- but lying to a friend was never fun. "I'll call you later, okay?"

Bra nodded, coolly sipping her tea, "Tell me how it goes. You are dumping him, right?"

I put my best mysterious smile on display and disappeared before she could say another word. I didn't want to explain myself here... how could I? I knew the truth as well as anyone, any normal person wouldn't tolerate this. Any normal person would've dumped him. But me? Aren't I normal too?

The answer to that, ladies and gentlemen, will always be 'no'.

--

My first memory with him was when I was four. Bra was only three years old then, and Trunks was nine. Only nine years old and he had quite a following of little girls. Winter had come and washed the reds and browns away, we were playing in the snow when Bra had wandered too far. We were playing hide and seek, and Trunks had already been looking for an hour without sight of his little sister. I'd never seen such worry on his usually emotionless face, and such determination. He left his first imprint on my heart then.

It was winter when I finally told him how I felt. A cold, cold winter. I remember the way the snow cascaded so gracefully from the sky and the fog rose eerily from the ground. That hazy evening, I could see nothing else-- the world consisted only of me and him. What a world that was.

But it broke away in no time. He had taken it, snatched it from me, and hurled it uncaringly at the ground. It shattered like glass. And there I was-- and here I am, still standing here gazing at the dismembered pieces. And him? He's out there somewhere with another girl, telling her all those things he told me.

I can't bring myself to dump him, I can't walk away from those broken pieces when something inside me is still saying I can fix it. I can fix it. Can I fix it?

--

I was running. It took me a while to notice it, to notice the soft, fresh breeze that blew through my unruly hair, to notice the smell of flowers that poured down from the trees above, to notice the feel of the wet grass far below. It was spring again, two years after the first time he kissed me, two and a half after that snowy day, one and a half after the first time I saw him with someone else.

I slowed my pace in a valiant attempt to enjoy the change in weather, but I noted then that spring was never my favorite season. Bad things happen in the spring. The journey to the house was a short one, but lively. Walking through the crowd, a familiar purple head caught my eye... and he wasn't alone. A laughing brunette bobbed beside him, and my suspicion was confirmed.

The tears didn't come like they usually do, this time, only thoughts. Dark, gloomy thoughts that I had tried so hard to vanquish. They wouldn't leave. A storm cloud fluttered over me, the stupid girl who couldn't get over Mr. Handsome. That's all he was, after all. Handsome.

And there you have it... can't ever trust a guy with good looks.