Raindrops

Chapter 17: Listen Before I Go

A/N: Check out the beautiful new cover I got commissioned! This was by Ryneshi on Tumblr/Twitter I am SOOO obsessed!

Also made a playlist for Raindrops on Spotify (it's Raindrops || A Fanfic Playlist, if anyone wants to listen :P I will warn you it's a whole bunch of popular artists)

IMPORTANT: I made a podcast which you can hear on spotify/ITunes called Fanfics & Chocolate Chips, I'd love for my readers to tune in!

"Back here again," Trunks stated bitterly, tapping the toe of his dress shoes against the cement. He stood outside the spherical building, waiting for someone to come to the door as he watched the visage of his mother appear. "Shit."

He watched as the bluenette cracked open the door, watching her slightly wrinkled face burst into light. "Trunks?" She asked, her cerulean eyes tearing up, "Son...I-" The hybrid watched with the slightest pang of guilt wrack over him, his voice tangled in his throat as he watched his mother hold in her tears. Only slightly.

It was a game of who could hold out their pride longer, either side not wanting to admit where things went wrong. Rather, they wished to point fingers. "Mom," it was the first time he'd spoken to her in months. He sighed defeatedly, remembering what his sister told him.

He wanted to get better. He wanted to feel weak.

But there was an ever-persistent feeling drilled into his psyche, that weakness was bad. He recalled the times he wanted to feel weak around Marron, even around her...he knew his walls weren't fully down, and perhaps they'd never be. It wasn't safe to be who he was.

"Trunks...I know you've been avoiding me…" Bulma muttered softly, eyes staring off to the side before daring to peer into her son's expression. In an attempt to decipher what went through his head. It reminded her of the same troubled look Vegeta had when something troubled him, he was closed off. "I'm not trying anymore, I'm not going to beg you for attention."

Trunks shook his head. "I never wanted you to beg," Trunks began.

His mother closed the door behind her, stepping toward him. "Come," Bulma motioned the hybrid in her direction. "We need to talk."

Trunks obliged, trailing behind his mother through the greenhouse walkway by the entrance of the Capsule Corp Mansion. The thick humidity of the glass dome penetrated their nostrils as they wafted through the thick greenery. He watched her sit in the white metal chair, her hand motioning over to the chair adjacent.

"Trunks," Bulma began, her voice filled with purpose. "I've been reading the earning reports for Capsule Corp, it's been…"

"Doing well," Trunks responded smugly, arms folded over his chest as he cocked his head. He wasn't going to let her get to him, he knew that's what she wanted. "I know."

"Yes, your work has been fantastic, but—" Bulma began eyeing him with suspicion, "you still have areas to work in, see there are issues with your—"

Issues. A common phrase for his mother to throw around, but it didn't sit right with him. "I didn't come here to be patronized by you, Mom," Trunks stressed, he could already feel himself losing restraint with himself the further he got.

The air was thick as the two gazed at each other with intensity. Bulma watched her son, there was definitely something off about him. His usual air of confidence seemed to be torn away, like the shell she'd helped cultivate to shield him from insecurity has been shattered. There was something in his deep-set bags that sent warning alarms in her head. Unstable perhaps?

She hadn't really gotten a good look at him until now. "I think you need to communicate with your family, Trunks," Bulma responded, attempting to shield herself from her son's silver-tongued attacks. "I think you might not be doing enough fo—"

Immediately she bit her tongue, watching as Trunks' expression grew from an unsteady silence into one of pure anger. It was unusual to see her son in such a state, his eerie silence making her more nervous as to what verbal assault he'd uncharacteristically dish out at her. For some ungodly reason, it wouldn't click with her why Trunks was behaving in such a manner.

"Not doing enough?" The ludicrous expression developed into rage. "What has this year been to you, me just sleeping around and partying?" Trunks felt himself boiling up the pent up frustration and anger for months of silence. He cocked his head at his mother, who drew to a blank for a response, pushing himself to continue.

"Just what do you think I do all day? Am I not doing enough, am I not being perfect enough for you! I mean...seriously what the hell do you want from me. I'm trying...I'm trying so goddamn hard every day to please you!"

He paused, scoffing at his own statement. To please his mother.

He's given up his friendship

His love life.

Even his own mental health, to please his mother.

"Of course, not even when I reinvent myself for you do you care," Trunks looked bitterly towards his mother whose blue brows knitted together in some desperate attempt to analyze the dilemma he's created.

She didn't understand? Why was he so upset...she thought Trunks was doing better! Had Bulma Briefs been wrong?

Trunks slammed his hands down onto the rickety garden table, making it tremor at his radiating fury. "Have you ever considered how I'm feeling?" Trunks asked, his voice dripped in acid.

"I'm at the point where everyone that I have ever had a friendship with is distant from me...and you know what," He heaved his breath, stopping himself from releasing his total verbal fury upon his mother.

It's her fault he's like this.

It's her fault.

"It's my fault," Trunks finally broke out. "It's my fault," he cried out, finally feeling as he reached the end of his wits. "I-I've been bending myself over backward to try to please you and Dad, I can't even recognize myself anymore."

He thought of Marron and Goten, friendships he's seemingly ruined by poor decisions and for what? To prove a point, or to get something out of it? How could he ever face either one of them with the shame he's carried himself with for this entire time, this ever eternal feeling of not being enough?

Trunks was in his early twenties yet carried himself with the soul of a man too tattered to carry on, too tired to engage with others. He felt elastic, with everyone pulling him either side until eventually, he snapped.

He broke.

"Trunks," Bulma began, placing a hand on the now silently crying boy...her own son. "This isn't your fault," Bulma cooed as she softly pet the lavender tuft of hair.

Perhaps she'd been too harsh to him. He was only in his early twenties and yet she is forcing him to live up to a standard even she couldn't achieve at that age. The youngest CEO of Capsule Corp was so much responsibility for someone who hardly knew of life.

While her son may have wielded engineering and scientific genius...he was nowhere near ready for the stress she unloaded onto him. She expected him to be twice as good as her at a younger age, and she shouldn't have. Guilt wracked over her as she watched her son distraught at the immeasurable amount of stress she'd placed on him. "Look at what I've done," Bulma's hands cupped the hybrids' wet cheeks, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Immediately Trunks could feel a sense of relief overcome his being. A weight lifting off his shoulder as his shivering mother held him, whispering in his ear that it was okay. "I wish you spoke about it, I wish you could have told me..."

Holding him tighter, she felt the hybrid melt in her arms. Her red fingernails traced soft circles on his back, soothing his emotions. "Oh Trunks," Bulma sniffled. "I should have listened to you, I should have been there for you."

Marron stood near the crosswalk, shivering under the icy temperatures. She had gotten a call from Goten earlier that day, it was rather sudden, but he was trying to meet up for a cup of coffee. Marron, being subjected to a drought of friendship, couldn't possibly refuse.

However, she was worried about Trunks. More than it was worth, really. He clearly made his choice and doesn't want to see her anymore, not even as friends. In what seems like almost a month, her closest friend in West City became a distant stranger. Forever faded into the background of some strange chapter in her book.

The crosswalk light blinked green and she began to walk, however, her mind was disconnected from her physical state. She kept going back to the day they kissed, it was something she couldn't get out of her thoughts. It plagued her at work, in the shower, in her dreams.

Was this an unrequited crush?

Unrequited love?

The thought was unbearable, she needed closure...desperately. She couldn't imagine how Goten would react...but perhaps, that's why those two fought so hard, it was Trunks. He was so strange, one day he will be there and converse with you...the next he was gone. No calls, no texts, everything led straight to no reply.

She was worried, had he ate a real meal since then? Is he back to his microwave food bought at a bodega? It wasn't just that she had fallen for the man, but she was concerned as a friend.

Would she ever reconcile with him? Will Marron ever get back to those halcyon days of sharing a beer on the dock. There was a strange emptiness resonating in her chest that refused to subside, what was this emotion? Was it heartbreak? If so...what kind? The loss of someone she considered close?

The loss of someone she'd grown to like? Perhaps even...love?

She recalled the dead expression that lingered on her face, reflecting back to her from her LCD computer screen...like some sick...twisted joke. But a reminder of why she was feeling such a way, she never noticed the amount of care she poured and how empty her life suddenly felt.

She glanced down to her phone, staring at the time. She was going to be late! Marron clicked the phone off but before she could place it back in her pocket.

The world went dark.

The sirens blared.

Vision blurred, as the feeling of blood crept up her tongue.

An amalgamation of voices and cries surrounding the atmosphere.

She couldn't breathe.

"Marron?!" A familiar voice yelled. "Oh, God…"

His breath was labored, holding the now fragile frame of the blonde. Marron recognized the voice, it belonged to Goten. But there was no response that could possibly emit past her throat. Her eyes searched for something to latch on to, something to recognize, but everything was a blur.

But all before she succumbed to her pain, she heard Goten speak.

"C'mon Trunks, you bastard, pick up!"

A/N: Thank you for reading! As always, please let me know what you think - and happy holidays! Also, sorry for the super short chapter, I know it's not my typical length but I decided to split this chapter