Positively, it was difficult that he ever stopped loving her.
She did not hold 'a place' in his heart. She was his heart; she had placed
herself in the middle of it, getting every single thought of him, making
her room in his soul. There was no way he could ever escape from her, there
was nowhere to run to, whenever he went, if he was ever to try to forget
her, she would surely follow him, inside him, if not physically.
He loved her. He loved his best friend, his only friend, the only thing
he valued in his life. Telling her, and then being refused, as he was afraid
would happen, would mean making his life a complete mess. He would not
only be heartbroken, but he would have no one to talk to, no one by his
side. He had thought many times of how he had ruined their friendship by
falling in love with her, but he was never really aware of the consequences
of ruining it. She was not his friend, but his only friend, the only one
he cared for, and losing her, he would lose everything.
That was probably the only reason he had kept silent for so long. The
fact of having her, as his exclusive life was such a weakness! It made
him unsure, it made him think more than once before saying a word, anything
that could imply them both together.
He had always been a rather impulsive person. In fact, there were very
few times he thought twice before acting. If he wanted anything, he would
simply do it or ask for it. The most usual explanation for his behaviour,
if anyone ever asked, was that it was something that had to be done. Simply,
and plainly, straight from the heart. It had to be done.
Pan... He had to tell her. He should have told her months ago. He should
have brought her to a separate room, at work, at home, anywhere!, made
her sit down by his side, and tell her, plainly, from his heart, about
his problem. Because that was what it was. A problem. A very big problem
he had to deal with, even if he was finding himself unable through the
years. At first, he could have thought – and he did – that it was a matter
of time, that he would get used to live with his love for her. But not
any longer. It was not something he would learn to deal with, loving her
from his silence. He should have told her.
What happened, then? He had to face it. He was a coward. He could not
face her, he could not make her sit down, take his hand and say that he
was sorry, but that he couldn't help but notice her perfection. That he
had a problem, and that the problem was loving her too much. That he was
going to ruin their friendship, what he valued the most in his life, because
he could not bear it anymore inside.
He had tried. Many times. But the only fact of having her looking at
him was enough to make him lose any composure he could have gained alone,
in front of the mirror.
But the real causes of his silence were the risks of his step. And
there were many, and important! Losing her, having her uncomfortable, preoccupied
about him or even annoyed would be something he would not be able to stand.
And not because she was his only friend. It was not exactly that. If he
was in such a situation with some other girl, he told her, and that girl
refused him, he would run to Pan to tell her, and she'd make him feel better.
He needed her to go through life! She would make a stormy day look like
a sunny one! She would make him smile even if he was soul-shattered. She
would be able to do anything. And he would be, by her side.
But being in love with her implied a disjunction. Either he remained
always by her side, suffering the wishes of his heart silently, or he risked
his safety by her side, but got to set his heart free one single time.
Another reasoning used to intercede for telling her was the fact that
those were nothing but 'risks'. It still depended on her. If he told her,
it would still be up to her feelings. There was a more or less big or small
chance, depending on the mood he was in, that she would answer his feelings.
Then, the result would not be a broken friendship – along with a broken
Trunks – but a happy and bright couple, ending in a life of joy for them
both. That should make for the risks, he kept telling himself again and
again.
Yet, months had passed by since he realised his feelings, and he had
never told her a word. And didn't plan to in a near future. He couldn't.
He couldn't bear the uncertainty. He would probably have to live with it
for a long time.
Sighing, he made a loop in the air, hoping that his hair wouldn't end
up messy. What was he going to do with that little girl of his...? How
could he ease the pain, without jeopardising all they had...?
The shower had not had a positive effect. He was still as nervous as
before having it, or maybe even more. He was nearly trembling, but that
was something he was used to. Her single voice was enough to bring chills
along his spine. The problem was that he kept having weird thoughts. Sentences
kept popping in his mind. Like ways to tell her. Like what he could say
when he met her. And they were not innocent things such as 'Hi, Pan! You
look nice today!'. They were more of the sort of saying hello, holding
her tight and confess, without any other delay, that he loved her, that
he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, that she meant everything
to him.
Those images were so real and attractive that they scared him. He could
see him telling her, without any hesitation or preamble, what he had hid
for unending weeks.
The flight from the corporation to her house was starting to seem unending.
And he was starting to mentally babble, what was too bad. He would have
enough time during the soirée to make a fool of himself; he didn't
need an already bad start!
He shook his head and tried to shrug his worries off. He could almost
see her house, in front of him, a few metres away. It wouldn't be long
until he arrived. He thought of what she would be doing, and uselessly
tried to feel her energy. He was too powered up, in order to fly that fast,
to notice anything else, if that 'anything else' was not a monster trying
to destroy the earth. What he prayed not to feel ever again.
Anyway, he could imagine her laying the table or finish dressing. And
he would be really having her face to face in a matter of seconds. He could
wait.
He recalled the photograph in her book. A photograph of him used as
a bookmark. He wished he had seen what the book was about; only in order
to know what kind of book he was a bookmark for. To know if it was one
of the ever-interesting managing books from the Corporation or if it was
a more personal one. To know where she had put him between...
He noticed he was babbling again and sped up. Crazy, that's how he
would end, jabbering that much!
With a last effort, he sped up even more, to end not flying at all,
all of a sudden. He simply let himself fall down the few metres he had
acquired during his flight, to end floating only a pair of metres over
the ground level, at her window level. There he was, at her house, right
in front of one of her windows.
He looked in; she was nowhere to be seen. It was her personal office.
He floated down a bit, until he reached the ground level. He had now the
glass garden doors in front of his nose, and, behind them, he could see
the dinning-room. Still, no sign of her. Trying to be as silent as possible,
he got in, slowly opening the doors, and tiptoed towards the kitchen.
He wanted to surprise her, to go to her back without being noticed,
and give her a kiss or anything – he'd have to improvise something – without
her having a clue of his presence...
But a hand, lightly placed on his shoulder, made him forget his intentions.
"Mmmhm...", she said, delicately caressing his shoulder, "an intruder...
What with me loving intruders...!"
He chuckled softly and tried to embrace her, even if his back was to
her.
"Do I have to assume, then, that you are used to have many intruders...?"
He heard her sigh, and noticed her warmth getting closer, until her
body was touching his. He felt her hand embrace his neck.
"Well...", she whispered, and he froze when he noticed the feeling
of her breath on the nape of his neck, "as good-looking as you, not usually
enough..."
"But you do have some...", he insisted, more to follow a known role
when he was finding himself unable to think.
She shrugged against his shoulder.
"You'll have to find out..." she naughtily ended. "But you better hurry
up... Trunks is about to arrive...!"
He nodded assuredly.
"Let's hurry up, then! But... for what...?"
"What!", she exclaimed, embracing him tighter as if to give more emphasis
to what she was saying and to get more attention from him, but he only
got the first part, since her proximity distracted him even more. "You
don't know what an intruder has to do...?"
He shrugged, moving her head up and down with his shoulders.
"It depends on the intruder... doesn't it...?"
She nodded and sighed, thoughtful.
"Oh, yeah... I forgot I had assumed you were the nice kind of intruders...!"
He tried to look at her face, but, as he only got to see a very little
part, he got her arm and lifted it from his neck in order to give himself
space to turn around.
"I am...", he hissed, now facing her and looking her straight in the
eyes. If he was tense and not thinking before, without having to look at
her, now that he was face to face and only a few centimetres away from
her nose, he was in total chaos!
"Welcome, then, nice intruder...", she whispered in response.
"Thanks... So... 'nice intruder', eh...? Can't you find any other adjective
to desc...?"
"Attractive, good-looking, hot, extremely desirable, irresistible,
dream-come-true – um... that's not an adjective... but it will do the same...
-, more than pleasing, comely...", she rapidly cut him off. "Just physically
or you want me to give adjectives for the little I've seen of your lovely
personality as well...?"
He chuckled lightly between a hard blush.
"No, I guess that we'll have to accept that as good... After all, I'm
an intruder and you don't know me at all..."
"Well... If that's what you want...!", she said faking sadness.
He nodded, and touched her chin, still not letting her go.
"Hello, Panny...", he mumbled. "Apart of having an intruder at your
home, how are you, hotshot...?"
"Apart from the intruder...?", she answered, with a grin. "A boring
normal Saturday evening...!"
"Boring...?", he asked, with a smirk. "Weren't you waiting for that...
um..."
She nodded.
"Trunks...", she finished, sighing. "But until he arrives, it's a normal
Saturday evening... By the way... you better hurry up, if there's anything
you want to do to me... When he arrives, he won't like you being here..."
He smiled and hugged her tighter.
"Then, we better hurry up, my sweet... Is there anything special you
want me to do to you...?"
She smiled brightly, making him lose his capacity of reasoning even
more simply by looking at her.
"Um...", she sighed, and then paused. "Give me a kiss, my dear...",
she finally said, looking at him in the eyes.
He smiled as well and leaned forward to kiss her cheek, as he always
did when they met. She answered by kissing his cheek as well, a known-too-well
feather-kiss that, as usual, made his skin burn with longing. There was
no way, he reassured himself, no way he could ever forget that, forget
how she made him feel, forget what a single light touch of hers was enough
to unchain his soul and his senses. He would always be unable to stop needing
her.
Slowly - yet too fast for him- she stepped backwards, breaking their
hug. He followed her, almost unconsciously, to be closer to her perhaps,
deafly obeying his inner urge for her proximity. If she noticed his needs
or was bothered by his embrace, she said nothing at all, so he kept an
arm around her shoulders while she conduced him to the kitchen, where he
was silently being lead to before his princess caught him.
"How was everything at the corporation, Mr President...?", she asked
casually, turning back to look at him in the eyes, while walking a step
ahead of him.
He shrugged and sheepishly smiled at her.
"As usual... Boring, alone..."
He was helpless. Perhaps it was the way she used to comb her hair,
or the brightness in her eyes, but that girl was enough to make him look
like a mess. He tried his hardest to be nice, to be smart, to say something
funny that would make her smile. He tried as hard as he could to look as
the attractive and irresistible bachelor he was told to be. But there she
was, turning to look at him, and perhaps it was just the light, or the
clothes she was wearing, or perhaps the way her face showed between her
hair, that surrounded it perfectly, but something in the sight was enough
to make him a small child. A total bliss was overwhelming his senses.
What with he having so long reproved Son Goten for being so mindless,
his own niece was enough to convert him into an even more brainless man!
Unable to think at all, all he was able to do was to keep that stupid grin
on his face.
Well, that... and saying the only thing his mind was able to think
in such circumstances...
"You look stunning today, Panny..."
The blush in her cheeks only showed off the passion he had obliviously
conferred to his words. She looked at the ground for an instant and then
turned to look at him again, shyly, keeping her eyes down. He couldn't
help but to stare at her undeniable beauty. That passion in his voice had,
without any shadow of a doubt, come out of truth.
"Thanks...", she murmured, everything in her behaviour showing timidity
and happiness at once. He loved when she looked like that, pleased but
not flattered, still humble but showing that the comment had touched her.
She sure knew how to take a compliment.
But he was beginning to wonder if he'd ever see anything in her that
he would not love...!
And she was not helping him to find it either!
She smiled at him, less shy then – it was incredible that, after many
years, he still had the power to get her shy all at once, when she should
be more than used to his continuous amorous compliments – and pointed the
kitchen with a bent of her head.
"Do you want to help me with serving the supper...?", she asked, moving
to set herself free from his embrace to take his hand between hers.
And, still unable to think clearly and praying to be able to get a
hold of himself soon, he nodded and, hardly noticing the trail of his thoughts
while entering the kitchen, he pictured themselves serving supper every
night to a table rounded by children... Their children.
He shook his head.
He'd never get a hold of himself if he was to continue thinking like
that! He couldn't even reason at all!
Oh, but – uh – he – uh...
He could think of one thing...
He loved her!
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