Loregar--Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it :)
Hel--Your English was just fine! Thank you *so* much for everything you said. It meant a lot to me because I really put a lot of effort into characterization and things. Comments like yours make me think it's not just a big waste of time, hehe. It means a lot that you're enjoying it so much even though you don't normally like yaoi :) I hope you'll keep reading!
Don't Trust Me--Aww, you're so cute. I'd love to tell you what happens, but you'll just have to keep reading ;-P Trunks and Gohan won't have their next encounter til Chapter 15, but you are right to be anxious, hehe...
Shadowed Shinobi--Thanks so much for the comment :) I felt really bad for them, too... I felt bad for all 3 of them, but most of my other reviewers thought - like you did - that Goten was being a dick! I'm really glad you like it and I hope you'll stick with me til the end.
Chrs--I'm glad you think they're an awesome couple in this story :) I know a lot of people don't go for present Trunks and Gohan, but in the right context I think they can be great :) Whether they can work things out is yet to be seen, but I hope you'll stick around to find out!
Chapter 14
Gohan opened his eyes when the boys' fight was through. "Wow, they sure are angry at each other," Dende said from alongside him. They sat high above the clouds, their feet dangling over the side of the Lookout.
"Yeah," Gohan agreed.
Although they hadn't been able to see the action from where they were, both had been able to follow things well enough by sensing the power levels involved. Now they knew that the younger demis were safe in the care of their fathers. Gohan could feel Vegeta hurtling towards Capsule Corp. with a still-declining Trunks in tow. And he was aware of Goku and Goten ITing to the vicinity of the Son house. He tensed when Dende placed a green hand on his shoulder as he started to stand up.
"I don't think you should go down there yet, Gohan." The young Namek had picked up on his intense desire to go to his brother and the demi's eyes darkened when realization dawned on him.
"Of course. I guess he probably doesn't want to see me."
"It's not that, Gohan." Piccolo's voice rang authoritatively from where he'd been standing a few feet behind them.
Neither Piccolo nor Dende had asked him why he showed up at the Lookout unannounced and shaken, or why the boys were fighting. Gohan was always vaguely aware that Piccolo watched over him and he had long ago gotten over his shyness at the idea. The upside of hanging out with the Guardians of the Earth was that you didn't ever have to explain anything.
"Your instincts were right when you came here. They need to finish working this out on their own." But what the tall Namekian didn't say was that he was also worried about Gohan. As long as Trunks and Goten were bent on hurting each other, he was bound to be their unintended victim. In response to Gohan's questioning eyes, Piccolo shook his head, his expression assuring his protégé that he knew what was best.
"Well, okay," the demi agreed reluctantly with one last glance over the side of the enormous platform. He was worried about Goten, but Goku was with him and he supposed it couldn't hurt to let things cool off for a bit. "I guess I could lay low here for a while. That is, if you don't mind me hanging around."
"Of course not, Gohan!" Dende put one arm around his childhood friend. It was always a pleasure for Dende to see him, even though – more often than not – they met under disastrous circumstances. "Mr. Popo's just finished preparing lunch and, considering Piccolo and I don't even eat, I was really hoping you'd join us."
"That'd be nice, Dende." He accepted the invitation to spend some time with his old friends despite the fact that the last thing he wanted to do was eat. Their calmness was comforting, and here he could clear his thoughts, sort out his feelings, and decide what – if anything – he could do to make things right again.
***
"Let's go to bed, Trunks. I'm sleepy."
"'Kay." The royal demi pushed away an enormous bowl that, ten-minutes ago, had been filled with ice cream. Both boys yawned and stretched before getting up from the table and dragging themselves up the stairs. They'd had a long day of exploring in the woods near Goten's house. And when they flew back to Capsule, expecting a big dinner and a nap, they found a keyed-up Vegeta who had other plans. They had fused no less than six times while sparring with him. And, even though SSJ3 Gotenks looked like the sure victor by the last round, the fusion always seemed to wear off just before they could finish the job. And once they separated, they were no match for the Saiyan prince at all.
"Your dad's a total maniac," Goten said as they slipped under the covers in the Capsule heir's room.
"Tell me about it." Trunks' eyes were already drooping closed by the time he settled his face into the comfortable crook of Goten's neck. "It was fun to fuse, though." They hadn't done it since soon after Majin Buu was destroyed five years before. He placed a kiss on the familiar-smelling skin in front of him.
"Hey." Goten sat up and put a hand to his neck where the lips had just been. "What was that for?"
The other boy shrugged. "I dunno," he said honestly. He supposed he was just feeling close to Goten after a full afternoon of being the same person. "Sorry."
After a moment, the younger demi settled back into bed alongside him, propping his head up on his hand. Goten stared at his friend breifly before leaning down to touch their lips together. They hadn't done that in five years either. And it felt a whole lot different this time. For both of them it was their first kiss, but it felt natural enough that they knew what to do.
Trunks opened his mouth and Goten's tongue slipped inside. It was still cold from the ice cream, but his lips were warm. It was a sensation the lavender-haired boy would not soon forget.
"Trunks." The youngest Son pulled away after a minute, a bit breathless. "This is making me feel funny. Like, in my stomach and . . . stuff."
Trunks smiled drowsily and reached down in between them to touch the front of his friend's pants. "I think that means you like it, Goten."
***
The demi-Saiyan prince stirred as he became aware of the warm, gel-like substance swirling around him. He could hear the muffled sound of machinery running and breathed in fresh air from the mask that covered his nose and mouth. There was no pain, and he vaguely realized he was in the regeneration tank, though he couldn't remember why. Eyelids fluttered as the teen fought for consciousness and lost.
***
"Are you mad at me, Dad?"
Goten watched his father kneel on the bank of the lake at Mount Paozu. Goku had taken the teen's shirt and was trying to scrub the stains out of it in the frigid water. He had long ago learned that Chichi didn't take kindly to blood-soaked clothing in the hamper. As per his father's instructions, Goten also splashed some of the water onto his naked torso, rubbing away whatever evidence of the fight still remained on his skin.
"No, not mad, Goten." The pureblood rubbed the fabric rapidly between his fists. "Just disappointed, son."
After he finished cleaning himself Goten sat back on his heels and looked at his father.
"I taught you better than to attack an opponent when he's not fighting back. It's just bad form."
The teen scoffed. "But, Dad, it's not an opponent! It's Trunks!"
"It's even more important to be at your best when you're facing a friend."
Goten rolled onto his back in the grass and spread his arms and legs out in exasperation. Training advice was the last thing he needed from his father and the only thing he ever got, from the moment he had met Goku until now. "Anyway," he sighed, "he didn't fight back cuz knew he deserved it."
"Now, son," his father admonished gently. "No one deserves a surprise attack."
"Ugh!" Goten buried his fists in his hair. "You have no idea, Dad! You can't even begin to understand what he did." Goku turned his head and looked quizzically at his son and Goten realized he was waiting for him to elaborate. But as much as the teen wanted his dad's help, he found himself at a loss as he stared into those wide, unwavering eyes. He wondered when it was that his relationship with Trunks had gone from being an exciting secret to something that was just too horrible to say aloud. "He really hurt me," the teen concluded lamely, turning his eyes back to the sky. In his mind, he drifted again to the events of that heartbreaking morning. "And he said the most awful things."
"Like what?"
Goten sat partway up, supporting himself with his hands on the ground behind him. "He said he wished he lived in Mirai Trunks' world because of the fact that I was never born there."
Goku made a face at the thought that Trunks would joke about such a thing. He could only conclude that the teen had been speaking foolishly in anger. "He wouldn't say that if he had any idea what it was like where Mirai came from." The pureblood turned back to his task and the sounds of his fists splashing around in the water resumed.
"He also said that I was just like you," Goten admitted, watching his father's silhouette closely.
The older man stopped his movements again and wondered how the comparison could have made Goten angry enough to lash out at his own best friend. Was it possible that Goten so detested the idea of being like him? Goku glanced at his son again. "What did he mean by that?"
"He said that I dropped him like a bad habit and that made me just like you."
The teen waited to see what Goku would say in his own defense. Gohan and Chichi had made countless excuses for his long absences over the years when Goten had prodded them. But he'd never confronted his father directly. The earth's savior still seemed larger-than-life to him; almost untouchable in that peculiar way that celebrities are. But at this point, Goten figured he didn't have much left to lose. And while he was coming to terms with his feelings, Goku might as well come to terms with them, too.
"Well . . . ." The pureblood faltered as he suddenly realized just what his son apparently thought of him. "I'm sure you guys will make up," he said quietly. "It's . . . just a fight. Boys'll be boys, I guess."
"Yeah."
Uncomfortable silence reigned until Goku stood up and wrung out the shirt before turning towards home. "I'll see you at the house, Goten." With that, he walked away, the t-shirt he still held leaving a trail of wet droplets in its wake.
The demi-Saiyan took a deep breath as he lay back on the ground. He could feel the last of the warm tears he'd been holding back cut watery paths down his temples and into his hair. Whether Trunks had done it on purpose or not, one thing was for sure. He felt more alone than he ever had in his life.
***
"I can't believe Chichi made you wear that on the first day of high school. How does she expect you to make any friends?"
"What's wrong with it?" Goten asked as the boys walked side-by-side after meeting up when their respective schools let out. He glanced down at the khaki pants and dress shirt he wore with a pair of scuffed loafers that were Gohan's hand-me-downs, a vest, and a bowtie.
"For starters, you look like a waiter at a really lame restaurant."
"Take it back! I do not!" Trunks held his arms up to fend off Goten's playful blows.
"You gotta stop letting your mom pick out your clothes, Goten. When we get back to Capsule we'll raid my closet."
"Oh, I can't," the other's face fell. "Mom made me get a job at some place called Burgertown. I'm supposed to work there every day after school."
Trunks gasped in annoyance. "Well, that really screws up my afternoon plans!"
"Sorry," his friend shrugged helplessly.
But Trunks crossed his arms and lavender brows furrowed. "Just let me think for a minute. There's got to be a way to get out of this."
Soon they were approaching Capsule Corp. and the young teens could see Bulma on her back on the ground, the upper half of her body hidden beneath the outdoor gravity chamber. Trunks leaned in close to the younger boy. "Alright," he whispered, "just follow my lead."
Trunks skipped up to the gravity machine. "Hi, Mother!" he called out. "I had the best first day at school today! I hope you have time for a long story because it all started in homeroom when we found out that Naoki got a new car over the summer. He's the oldest person in our class and he just turned sixteen. So of course everyone was sucking up to him to try to get a ride home, but I didn't because I wanted to walk with Goten anyway. Besides, I'll be sixteen soon, and then I'll have my own car. Right, Mom?" He paused for only a second. "Anyway, on my way to homeroom I saw some upperclassmen picking on a freshman so I stepped in on his behalf. You know, took him under my wing and all. And by lunch time, we—."
"Trunks!" She half-shouted his name as she dragged herself out from underneath the machine and he shot her a hurt look. "I'm sorry, hon, I really want to hear about it but I'm very busy right now. Your father insists that I fix this thing and I have a ton of my own work to do this afternoon, too."
"This is cool!" Goten exclaimed, picking up a delicate-looking tool from the ground alongside the blue-haired woman. "What's this for, Bulma? Pounding nails or something?" He pulled his arm back as if he planned to hit the side of the gravity chamber with it.
"NO!" She threw her arms up to block him. "That's a very fragile diamond-tipped cutting tool, Goten. You don't want to—."
"Oh, okay," he put it down and grabbed another. "What's this one?"
"Look, boys." She reached into her pocket. "Here's twenty zeni. Go see a movie or something."
"Cool, thanks mom!" They trotted towards the house and Trunks' eyes sparkled as he closed the front door behind them, holding up the money. "If we do that every day, and you just take the cash home, Chichi'll think you're working. It'll be like it's your job to hang out with me!"
"This is so perfect!" Goten giggled, taking his friend's hands as they performed a short victory dance. "Hey, but wait. What if Burgertown calls my house when I don't show up?"
"Hmm." The two stopped spinning and Trunks pulled out a cell phone. He winked at Goten. "Uh, hi, Burgertown?" he asked in as deep a voice as he could manage. "This is Son Goku calling. My boy Goten won't be coming in today. Actually, uh, he quits. And he has his mother's full permission. So don't bother calling her. Okay, bye!"
And it had lasted an entire week before Gohan busted them.
***
Vegeta watched his son twitch in suspended animation. A barely visible smile crept over the boy's features and he knew the teen was dreaming. His vital signs were getting stronger and his heart was actually beating quite fast. Trunks took a few labored breaths and bubbles rose through the gelatinous solution around him. The royal Saiyan was aware of his own shoulders relaxing as he watched the monitor that reported his son's condition. But the sense of relief did not last long.
"Oh. My. God." Bulma's shrill voice rang out from behind him. "What have you done to my baby!?"
The prince closed his eyes, annoyed that the regeneration tanks were located in Bulma's private lab. He would much have preferred keeping her out of the picture until Trunks was healed. But, unfortunately, she never stayed away from the lab for long. Now she stood in the doorway, taking in the view of her son's unconscious body floating in a gelatinous solution of Saiyan DNA. His clothes were lying nearby on the floor and she did not fail to notice the wide, vertical stripe of fresh blood decorating the front of the shirt.
She marched in the direction of the tanks. "I told you not to train him so hard, Vegeta! It's not like the earth is under attack. You're just bored and you take it out on Trunks!"
"I didn't do it," Vegeta stated calmly, opening dark chocolate eyes again as she neared.
"Is this about your stupid rivalry with Goku? Because that's your burden to bear, not the kids' and I won't have you breaking every bone in his body until he's stronger than Gohan. It's just plain crazy—."
"Bulma!" The pureblood's voice was louder this time as he turned to face her. "I said that I didn't do it."
It had the intended effect of quieting her momentarily. "Well, what happened?" Her brow creased in worry as she looked away from her longtime companion and back to the regeneration tank. "Will he be alright?"
"He'll be fine in a few hours." Vegeta hoped the promise would be enough to calm her because they seriously needed to talk. His voice took on a more somber tone as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Listen, Bulma, has he ever said anything to you about Kakarott's youngest boy?"
"Well, sure. We talk about Goten all the time, Vegeta. I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."
He craned his neck in her direction with a knowing look on his face. "Specifically about the nature of their so-called friendship?"
"Alright, alright. I know what you're getting at and the answer is no. I've had my suspicions, too, but if there's anything to tell, he'll come to us when he's ready. Until then, it's none of our business." She lifted her nose to indicate that the conversation was over. "And if you have a problem with it, you can just keep it to yourself. I don't want you making him feel bad!"
"For gods' sake, Woman, I could care less what the two of them do!" he retorted defensively. "But would you think it was our business if I told you that Kakarott's boy is the one who put him in this condition?" He thought it unimportant to mention the fact that Trunks could have brushed off Goten's attack if only Vegeta hadn't broken his ribs the day before.
"No way!" Bulma's blue eyes widened with shock. "I knew they weren't getting along lately, but . . . . Wow."
The Prince grunted at the mention of their apparent bickering. "If you ask me, the problem is that these kids have nothing else to do but fight with each other. They need something more important to focus on than their own petty squabbles. They've been far too pampered for far too long."
"Oh and I suppose they'd be better off if Planet Vegeta was never destroyed and they spent their whole lives conquering faraway galaxies and destroying their helpless inhabitants?" she quipped.
"A boy needs a hobby."
Bulma sighed. "Well, what are we going to do? Should I have a talk with Goku and Chichi about it?"
"No," he said without hesitation. Then he scratched his chin thoughtfully. Bulma waited as patiently as she could for him to clue her in to whatever he was thinking. But it seemed the Saiyan prince had already forgotten she was there.
"Well, as long as he's going to be okay, I guess I'll get back to work then."
"Hn." Vegeta acknowledged the announcement distractedly, walking up to the DNA pod and resting a hand on its cold metal surface. He leaned forward on his palm, watching the dozing teen and Bulma didn't bother to hide a sentimental smile. For as much as Vegeta reprimanded her for coddling Trunks, she knew she wasn't the only one of his parents in whose eyes he was everything.
***
Goten picked up a flat, purplish stone from the edge of the lakebed. He held it in his hand a moment, letting the sunlight that it had absorbed warm his palm. Then he tossed it sideways and watched it skip across the lake. It hopped on the water and landed with a barely audible clunk on the other side. He looked on as the resulting ripples faded and, when the lake was smooth as a piece of glass again, he picked up another stone.
He had been hypnotized enough by the repetitive task that he didn't even feel his brother approaching until Gohan landed soundlessly on the grass a few feet away. Goten looked up and their eyes met for a brief moment.
"Thought you might want this." The older demi held out a red hooded sweatshirt, which his brother gratefully accepted. Goten hadn't bothered to go back to the house after Goku left, even though he was shirtless and had to be freezing. And when it became apparent to Gohan that the teen wasn't accepting their father's help, he had blown off the guardians' advice and insisted on seeing his brother.
"Piccolo?" Goten asked, staring at the large symbol on the back before pulling it over his head.
Gohan smiled. "It's not designer, but he can materialize some decent quality stuff."
"It's warm," Goten agreed before an uneasy quiet settled over the valley again.
"Goten, I'm so sorry," the eldest Son began, though he didn't really know where to start the apologies. He was sorry for being so dense and failing to notice the clear signs that Trunks and Goten were more than just friends. He was sorry he didn't know how much Goten was struggling to come to terms with it, and that he wasn't there to help. Then there was, of course, the obvious . . . .
He looked away to hide the inevitable pinkness that colored his cheeks when he thought of the things he and Trunks had done. "For everything that's happened," he finished tactfully.
"It's not your fault, Gohan."
"Yes," he stressed the words, "it is." In the hours he'd had to ponder their situation since that morning, Gohan realized he couldn't let Trunks take all the blame, even if the prince had been out for revenge. Whatever the teenager's intentions were, Gohan should have known better than to let things go so far. Trunks was still very young, and he was on the rebound. From the very beginning, it had been apparent that he was trying too hard to move on, was misdirecting his feelings, and was one stop away from an emotional train wreck. Now that the eldest Son had learned the true depth of the boys' relationship, he could see just how badly Trunks must have been wounded by their parting. And in hindsight he couldn't believe he'd given in so easily to the misguided desires of a teenager, no matter how genuine they had appeared.
"Oh, come on, Gohan," Goten challenged, confident in his knowledge, gained over eighteen years of friendship, of the way Trunks worked. "Tell me he didn't manipulate you from the very beginning."
Gohan opened his mouth to disagree, but he couldn't deny that Trunks had tried every possible way to get closer to him, to get his attention, and gain his favor. He had talked Gohan into sharing a bed, appealed to his desire to get over Videl, and even tried expensive gifts. But in recent days, he had seemed so different. Though Gohan couldn't help but wonder now if the prince had simply learned a better way to get to him. After all, Trunks had pushed him, studied him, learned what made him tick. And, like any good businessman, he knew how to play vulnerabilities to his advantage.
"Thought so," Goten concluded.
"No, wait." The older demi shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. "I think I know what you're doing, Goten, but you can't just demonize Trunks so that you won't have to be mad at me." Although the thought of losing Goten's respect was devastating to him, Gohan thought it was about time they all stopped building psychological walls to avoid dealing with their feelings. But the look on Goten's face told him it was an illusion he didn't want to let go of.
"Goten, listen to me." By now he was close enough to put his hands on his brother's arms, holding onto him by the shoulders. "I'm not perfect. I make bad decisions, too. All the time, in fact. You have to recognize that, okay? Because I don't want you to make the same mistakes that I have. Especially when it comes to relationships. Do you understand what I'm saying, Goten?"
The younger boy looked unsure, but nodded hesitantly. Gohan held onto him for a long moment before letting go and motioning for his brother to sit down. They both settled onto the bank and Goten had created a sizeable mountain of pulled-out grass before Gohan brought himself to ask the question on which everything depended.
"So, why did you leave, then, Goten? Don't you love him?"
The teen played with the strings on his hoodie for a moment. It occurred to him that their entire downward spiral had started with that question. He wished now like he'd wished then that there was an easy answer. He could remember a time when it had felt easy. When leaning on each other was the only way they knew to survive. When Trunks was the only one he could see and before doubt made him question what once felt so natural.
When all the happiness in the world was wrapped up in three little words.
'You and me.'
And before those other three words had even entered their vocabulary.
But all that seemed far away now. And he was no more sure how to respond to the question than he had been the day he gave Trunks the scripted answer he knew he wanted.
"What does love feel like, Gohan?"
"Well, it's different things to different people." The older demi pondered it a moment wondering if he could put the sentiment into words. "Mostly I think it's when everything you do is more exciting because of the person next to you. And that person is the first one you run to with good news, and the first one you turn to when it's bad. Real love, it . . . reinvents you. Makes you want to be a better person."
"Does it ever make you feel like," Goten gestured demonstratively while searching for the right words, "like your heart's been ripped out of your chest and you're forced to function with nothing inside? Like the further you get from that other person, the more empty you feel?"
Gohan had to smile regretfully at his brother's honest description. "Sometimes," he nodded. "That's the other side of it, I guess."
"I know I messed up when I left, Gohan," the younger boy admitted quietly. "But things were just getting so intense. And Trunks, god, he can be so . . . demanding. I couldn't give him what he wanted and I felt like I was lying to him. I just needed a break, ya know? Because there was only ever us," he insisted, hoping to make his brother understand. "And I wanted to be me. To find out who I am without him."
"Goten, I think you already know who you are. What I don't understand is why you fight it so hard. Don't you see, little bro? It's okay if Trunks is a part of you. It doesn't mean you're any less you."
The impact that the statement had was reflected in the teenager's blinking eyes and Gohan realized just how much value the younger demi put in his opinion. It only underscored how easily they might have averted disaster if only they'd talked sooner. Still, as Goten digested his brother's words, Gohan looked at him with some measure of hope. The two teenagers were resilient, and he was convinced now that they had all they needed to recover from this, if only they could be in the same room long enough to acknowledge it. And if being with Trunks could make Goten happy, then that was what Gohan wanted. His own feelings for the royal demi, whatever they had been, could stay locked away in that tiny little box. And as he reached out to help his brother up from the ground he swore that this time he really would throw away the key.
***
Trunks remembered finding Goten after the competition had ended sitting on a bench between two rows of lockers. The dark-haired demi was listless, feet planted on the floor and fingers wrapped around the front of the bench on either side of him. He stared at his shoes.
Keeping a close eye on his friend, Trunks began to change from his gi into street clothes. "Man," he said tentatively, "I thought with your dad out of the tournament one of us might have a shot at winning but I guess Vegeta can still kick our asses, huh?"
Goten made a short sound like a half-hearted laugh. "Yeah."
"Anyway, you wanna go out tonight? It looks like there's a pretty decent scene in this town—."
"I probably better go home."
"Oh." Trunks couldn't help but think of what a nightmare it would be at the Son residence tonight. "Are you sure? I mean, your mom's got Gohan to look after her and . . . Gohan's got Videl. Why don't you come stay over at Capsule?"
"Maybe." The younger boy sounded distracted. Trunks didn't know what else to say, so he turned away and shoved his thoroughly destroyed gi into a gym bag before retrieving a clean outfit from his locker.
Goten's quiet voice interrupted him as he was buttoning his trousers. "Do you think that . . . maybe . . . if I had spent more time training, he would have stayed, Trunks? I mean if I hadn't goofed off so much and was a better student—."
"Stop, Goten." The prince's voice was surprised but stern. "You can't blame yourself for his decisions. You're not his student, you're his son. You're supposed to goof off!" But the forlorn expression that still marred Goten's usually exuberant features made it clear he had his doubts. The prince closed the gap between them and sat on the bench next to his best friend. "It's just the way he is, Goten. He sees a challenge and needs to go after it. It's not personal."
"But . . . it should be. Shouldn't it?"
The younger teen didn't look up from the floor and Trunks was happy that he was spared seeing the hurt that would have been written all over his face. He hardly ever saw the youngest Son without a smile, and as he watched clear droplets accumulate on those long, dark lashes, dripping to the floor when Goten blinked, he knew he would have dragged Goku back kicking and screaming by himself if he could. But all he could do was wrap both arms around the other boy and beg.
"I hate it when you cry, Goten. Please, please don't cry."
The dark-haired demi did his best to hide the sounds, but his trembling shoulders gave him away. "He loves you," the prince promised, with as much conviction as he could muster.
"No, Trunks, he doesn't. I don't think he knows how to."
"Well . . . I love you, Goten," he responded quietly. "So, who needs him anyway?"
His friend's head turned and brown eyes searched Trunks' face at close range. "Do you mean it?"
The teen prince nodded and Goten kissed him then, holding onto him with one hand fisted in lavender hair. It was a desperate kiss and as it deepened, Trunks could taste the salty tears that had fallen from his best friend's eyes and down his pale cheeks. He just kept repeating the confession between sloppy kisses. "I love you, Goten. I love you." Then he leaned back to push his friend's wild black hair off his face. "Don't you love me?"
"Yes," the other managed to sniffle before they pulled apart at the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Then stop crying, would ya?" Trunks joked anxiously. "Listen, you don't have to go home tonight if you don't want to. Stay with me at Capsule, okay? Stay with me, Goten."
Stay with me.
Azure eyes opened slowly.
Memories of their relationship flooded his mind as though his brain was subconsciously mourning its passing. All the things he hadn't allowed himself to remember, all the feelings he had refused to acknowledge for weeks now assaulted his senses; Trunks being unable to ignore them any longer. His defense mechanisms had begun to fail when he found himself face to face with Goten that morning. Bombarded from the inside by the unanswered questions, insecurities, and loneliness the other boy had left him to deal with, he had cracked. And all the lofty ideals he had about them being friends again went out the window in that split second.
The images of their life together faded away now, along with the liquid that was draining through the bottom of the regeneration tank, until cold reality was all that remained. Gohan had been right when he warned Trunks against trying to replace Goten. The happiness he had found with the elder Son couldn't heal the wounds left by his brother. He had wanted Gohan to make him whole again, but Gohan deserved more than just what was left of him when Goten was through. And he knew now what Gohan had meant when he talked about not being ready; not having enough left to give. What Trunks didn't realize then was that he was in the exact same broken state. And where they were now was the inevitable result of his refusing to take no for an answer, his having pushed for too much too fast. As it stood, he had hurt both brothers and there was little chance of getting either closure from Goten or a second look from Gohan now.
Trunks shivered and his father passed him a towel. He used it to wipe his face and hair before standing up and wrapping it around his waist. Shakily, he stepped out of the pod and the liquid that remained on his skin began pooling into ever-growing puddles at his feet.
"We need to talk, son."
Trunks swallowed. Something in Vegeta's tone gave him a good idea what this conversation would be about.
"Tell me what's going on between you and Kakarott's youngest one." And the prince added pointedly, "Don't lie."
Trunks supposed he'd always known this moment would come. But for all the times he had insisted he was confident about his sexual identity, he felt like a pathetic, hypocritical coward at the moment. What if Vegeta hated him? What if he was disappointed? Trunks' only aspiration in life was to make his father proud and right now he couldn't help but feel as though he'd been born to fail.
His blood rushed in his ears and he let out the breath he now realized he'd been holding. When it came right down to it, it seemed he really was no better than Goten. He was terrified to speak the words.
"Out with it, Trunks." Vegeta didn't beat around the bush.
The teen squared his shoulders and met his father's eyes, readying himself to face the consequences. He only hoped that, if Vegeta responded negatively, it would be with his fists and not merely quiet contempt. The former, Trunks thought he could handle; the latter, he knew he could not.
"We were . . . best friends, Dad. With benefits, I guess you could say."
"Were?"
"Not anymore," he absently ran the fingers of his right hand over his ribs on the left side. "Obviously."
"Hn." Vegeta paced from left to right then back again. "It's as I suspected then. You were lovers," he concluded, and Trunks was surprised that his tone was somewhere between indifferent and amused. "Damn, I should have talked Kakarott into a wager."
Trunks couldn't suppress an offended gasp. He and Goten had always been so careful. And surely Vegeta couldn't have picked up on everything that was going on from just one fight. "Wha—?" the demi-Saiyan began. "Is it that obvious!?"
"I know my own son, Trunks."
The teen closed his mouth, thinking that he should probably just be thankful the announcement had gone over so well. Even if his dad did just practically call him flaming.
"You know that I met you—or, a version of you—before you were even conceived here in our time, don't you?"
"Huh?" The sudden apparent change of subject confused him. "Uh—yeah, of course," he managed. Bulma had told him the whole story of Mirai Trunks' time with the Z-fighters when she thought he was old enough. And his father had even taught him a few of the time traveler's best fighting moves.
"We spent an entire year locked in that Time Chamber together. And even though he thought I paid no attention to him, I saw enough to eventually realize that he was . . . was in love with his late master. Gohan," Vegeta specified, with a quick glance at his son. "It only makes sense that, in this dimension, you and Goten might have a similar relationship."
So Vegeta had known all along! The teen blinked in amazement. And his future self was in love with Gohan? Trunks realized he really did envy Mirai. At least for him, the choice had been easy. His father's voice drew him out of his thoughts again.
"I'm not proud to admit that learning that about Mirai was part of the reason I treated him so badly even after I found out he was my son," Vegeta admitted gravely. "But then, when he was killed by Cell . . . ."
The Saiyan prince trailed off, but Trunks knew the tale by heart. Bulma had sugarcoated some of the less pleasant parts, but the Z-fighters loved to reminisce about the old days whenever they got together, and he had pieced together most of the details over the years. The story went that Vegeta flew off the handle when Mirai died, recklessly attacking the super android though he knew it was an exercise in futility.
"That type of loss makes you realize how ridiculous it is to let such nonsense come between you and your only son," Vegeta finished solemnly. "It's probably because of him that I've been any kind of father to you at all. And I'm grateful to him for that."
The demi-Saiyan just stared at the prince. Vegeta maintained his regal air of aloofness but Trunks could hear the conviction in his words. He blinked when his father put a hand on his shoulder as he stood there, naked as the day he was born save for the towel he held at his waist.
"I probably don't tell you enough how proud I am of you, Trunks. But I don't know where you ever got it in your head that you let me down. Burning myself to a crisp when you were a child was the best way I could think of to tell you that I loved you. And for gods' sake, boy, it should have been enough!" he insisted. "It didn't tickle you know."
The teen could no longer hold at bay the rising sea of contradictory emotions that threatened to destroy the last of his composure. An overwhelming sense of relief clashed with profound feelings of loss, and he couldn't have pinned down the cause of the tears in his blue eyes right then. His father was so close, and for the second time that day, he fell against the older Saiyan, clinging to his only remaining ally.
"Dad," he whispered, his head bowed over the other's shoulder, "you can't imagine how I've screwed up. Goten, Gohan . . . they'll never forgive me."
The pureblood didn't retreat from the awkward embrace. Far from being affronted by the display of emotion, Vegeta knew that for both he and Trunks, it was their passion that made them great warriors. The teenager hadn't yet learned how to direct his stronger feelings and the pureblood made a mental note to start him on an ultra-intense mind and body training regimen once all this nonsense got worked out. But for the time being, he just wrapped one arm around his son's back.
"Trunks, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that it's never too late to make up for your mistakes. I've personally attempted to kill Kakarott about a half dozen times. And that brainy kid of his, too. Believe me when I tell you, it is not in that family's DNA to hold a grudge. They don't think like we do, son." He snorted. "That's why they can ride on that damned yellow cloud and we can't."
Trunks let out a short laugh in spite of himself. With a hint of that old sparkle in his eye, he leaned back from his father. "I thought you couldn't ride it on account of all those civilizations you ruthlessly destroyed."
"Smartass."
"Dad . . . ." Trunks' tone was entirely serious this time. There was so much he wanted to say. "Dad, I—."
"I know, son." Vegeta squeezed his shoulder before letting go, his dark eyes softer than Trunks had seen them before. He tried to memorize the image, knowing it wouldn't last long. "Now go and get cleaned up. We'll have dinner with your mother in a few hours."
The teen nodded, turned, and strode out of the lab pulling the towel from around his waist and using it to dry the last of his tears. In his cathartic haze of gratitude, he barely noticed the surprised yelp of one of his mother's assistants, who pressed herself to the wall, red-faced and staring as he passed.
The pureblood watched his son go but didn't follow. Before dinner, Vegeta had a few errands to run. He closed his eyes and focused. When he located the demi-Saiyan he was looking for, he pushed through the heavy double doors that led outside and took off in his direction.