Author's Note: Apologies for the delay on this one. I've spend the last few weeks contending with an upper respiratory infection, winter term finals, a second upper respiratory infection, and a smattering of unanticipated personal issues. I've been trying to get myself put back together as spring semester starts back up, and this story, unfortunately, had to take a backseat. Now that things have settled somewhat, I should be back to updating once or twice a week until the story ends. Thanks for all your patience.

Monday 2 November

I look really different now. Like, really different. More than I thought I would.

Which, I suppose, was the whole point.

I guess I should be happy.

I should explain. See, I passed out pretty early last night, in Trunks' bed. I must have been more tired than I'd realized, because even though I was asleep before Trunks got into bed with me, he was actually awake before me.

I sat up in his bed, watching him put together his stuff for school. I'd skipped on Friday, but I didn't think I could get away with ditching again. Trunks obviously agreed; when I looked over to the corner of his room where I'd dumped my school stuff, he'd already put everything away in my backpack.

"Hey," I said, getting his attention from his bed.

"Morning," he said, not looking up from his bookbag. "Didn't realize you were awake."

I yawned. "What time is it?"

"About 7:15."

I frowned. "We're running late. Why didn't you get me up?"

He shrugged from his spot on the floor by his desk. "I figured you could use the extra sleep. Besides, you took a shower last night, you can get away with skipping this morning."

I laughed. "You're so gross."

He rolled his eyes as he stood up to look at me. "You're the one who isn't taking a shower, Goten."

"That's it," I said. "I don't care if we're late, I'm taking a fucking shower."

Trunks shrugged again. "Fine, but don't blame me if Mr. Mori tears you a new one."

"I think Mori is still terrified of your mom."

He smirked. "Goten, my father is terrified of my mom."

"Exactly." I bounded out of bed and landed on his floor in one quick movement. "I'm pretty sure I'll be fine." With that, I walked into his private bathroom, the one adjoining his bedroom. And yeah, I actually felt like I'd be able to deal with the world today.

Until I turned to the counter to brush my teeth and looked at the mirror. Catching my reflection. Seeing my face.

Seeing his face.

That's when I realized it. I couldn't get away from him. He was with me wherever I went. Same face. Same hair. Same everything.

I must have been staring at the mirror for a longer than I'd thought, because the next thing I knew, Trunks was standing in the bathroom door, clearing his throat to get my attention.

"What's wrong? I thought you were gonna take a shower."

I shook my head, but I didn't turn away from the mirror. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Because you've been kind of staring at the mirror for a good five minutes."

I snapped my head around to face him and glared. "I said it was nothing, okay!? Fuck!"

"Okay, god, fine." He held up his hands in front of him. "I just wanted to see if you were alright."

I bit down on my lip and winced. Because, really, Trunks was the last person I should have been taking my bad mood out on. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm . . . I'm fine," I lied.

"Okay," he said incredulously. "But we really are going to be late if you don't hurry up in here." He slowly started to leave, looking at me through the corner of his eye for half a second before turning away completely.

"Wait," I said suddenly. Trunks paused mid-step and turned around to look at me again. "Uh, I'm sorry."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Chibi, you already said that."

"No, I mean . . ." I started running my hand through my hair—through my father's goddamn spikes—and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I've been so shitty lately."

He shrugged. "Goten, all things considered, I think I can give you a pass this week." And he smiled at me, that reassuring smile that always managed to feel a little calmer. A little safer.

It's hard to believe that a week ago, I thought we were done. Right now, I don't know how I'd be coping without him.

I turned back to the fucking mirror again. "I hate this."

He slipped an arm around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder and making eye contact with me through the mirror. "You hate what?"

"I hate this face. And this hair. I hate how I look exactly fucking like him."

I saw him frown in the mirror. "I'll be right back." He disentangled himself from my waist and walked into his bedroom. I watched him dig around a box under his bed for a minute, wondering what the hell he was planning. Before I had the chance to ask, though, he was back in the bathroom, holding out something sharp and shiny resting in his hand.

Scissors.

I looked down at his palm, then back up at him. "The hell?"

"Well," he said, "I can't do anything about the face, and there's no way I'm letting you mar your sexiness with plastic surgery." He waved the scissors back and forth for a minute. "But I can help with the hair, if you want."

I gulped. I tried to ignore the knots in my chest and the butterflies in my stomach as I nodded, lowered the lid of the toilet seat, and sat down with my back to him.

I heard more than felt Trunks shearing off huge chunks of my hair. I thought my hair would be heavier, thought there'd be a more noticeable weight being lifted, but the truth is that if I hadn't seen the clumps of black hair falling down in front of me, I would have had no idea what was happening. It didn't take very long, fifteen minutes at most. Trunks brushed a few stray strands off my shoulder and pulled my up by one hand.

I stared at the mirror again. This time, it wasn't my father that was staring back.

Considering I've had the same hair since I was a baby, this is going to take some getting used to.

Trunks set the scissors down on the sink counter and stood next to me again. "Do you like it?"

I shrugged. "Do you?"

He laughed. "I did it. I'm not exactly unbiased, Chibi. Seriously, what do you think?"

I turned to the mirror again. It was hard, forcing myself to look at the haircut on its own terms, not just in terms of making me look different from my dad. But Trunks actually did a pretty good job, consider how unruly my hair is. I'm not sure how the length made this much of a difference, but my hair is clumped into a lot more, smaller spikes now. It's still jutting off in a thousand different directions, but with each individual spike so much shorter than it was before, my hair looks vaguely normal.

After a couple of minutes, I nodded. I thanked him, and he just kissed me before shoving me into the shower. I cleaned up quick, grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and ran down the stairs to his car for the ten-minute drive to school.

We got to school about halfway through first period. I slipped into the room and took one of the empty seats way in the back of the classroom. Mori either didn't notice or, more likely, decided to just ignore me as he continued lecturing. I wish I could say I knew what he was talking about, but I spent the rest of class doodling in my calculus notebook. It wasn't until class ended and the bell rang that anyone said a word to me. Nao caught up with me before I could get on my way to literature and pulled me aside.

"Hey," he said, getting my attention by tapping me on the shoulder. "When did you get in?"

"About halfway through class," I said.

"Have you been sick or something?" When I shook my head, no, he looked me up and down and chuckled. "Man, I barely recognized you at first. What's with the hair?"

I shrugged. "I cut it."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can see that." He frowned at me. "Pretty dramatic change. Any particular reason for it?"

I started mulling over my answer, trying to explain why I'd let Trunks hack off the better part of my hair, when I realized something. I couldn't talk to him about this. I couldn't talk to anyone, anyone in the world about this, but Trunks.

Nao. Dia. Kato. Addo. Even fucking Ava. These people would all come and go. My family, they were supposed to be the ones that were always there for me. They were supposed to be the ones I didn't have to keep secrets from.

So just told Nao that I was getting sick of looking exactly like my father. As usual, not a lie, but definitely not the whole truth.

Because I couldn't tell him the whole truth.

I never can.