The Sorrow of Love:
Everything can go so wrong
Disclaimer: Oh, intelligent reader, you have stumbled upon the workings of a poor, humble boy. Ok, so I'm not poor, and I'm pretty sure I'm not humble, but yes, I am a boy! Writing Romance! That's right! And this BOY does not own DBZ or any of its affiliates. That honor belongs to Akira Toriyama (I think that's right). On with the Story!
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Prologue
"Oh god... why me?"
Trunks sat there, looking into the face of an android. It was cold and warm. It was evil and noble. It was dark and bright. He knew it. He fell in love with one of the most notorious villains of his time.
It was Eighteen. He was looking at her from a distance. Looking, because he couldn't pick up an energy signature, and thus wouldn't have the heart to look away. He was also crying. Crying, because she wasn't human. Her blonde hair flew around while she was destroying buildings, destroying lives. He could not realize why he had to fall for a creation of a jealous scientist. She wasn't human in any form. The only emotion she could feel was hate. Trunks had enough of that.
Trunks had killed Seventeen under lucky circumstances. He stepped on a land mine, and Trunks used the small distraction finish the machine off. It was a happy few moments in his miserable life, and he tried to take what happy moments he had. This one he brushed away though, as he knew what was forthcoming.
The survivors of Seventeen's attack were eternally grateful, but he flew off before any thanks could be given. Even then he had more than a slight interest in Eighteen.
There was nothing he could do, though. She was an evil hearted villain, and he was supposedly the shining paladin trying to take her down. The ideal hero. But every hero has his faults. Trunks' golden armor was corrupted on the inside, tainted by his unrequited love for a nefarious force.
'It would've been easier if Eighteen had been the one who stepped on the land mine,' he thought bitterly. He wouldn't have to deal with this torture. Seventeen would've been the one up there, blasting objects into oblivion. Trunks would've taken him down.
By normal standards, you could consider Trunks handsome. But these weren't normal standards. His blood and the blood of innocents stained his shining purple hair, a token of his lost mother. His shirt was torn and his bare chest was covered in mud. His feet had burns on them from the aforementioned mine. His pants had holes in the knees, and were quite short. His shoes were long discarded. His face spoke volumes, though.
The volumes compiled a story. A story of ruthless killing, deceitful trickery, and hard-earned survival. A story of vicious beatings, shameful losses, cold death, and unforgiving sorrow. His story will be the one that will be told.
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A/N: That was kinda short. Oh well. Be sure to review my hopeful piece of work, guys (and most likely girls). No, I'm not doing this to impress girls, because I think they would be scared off by my personality and my looks before I could recite a story line, or a cheesy poem. So there! Anyway, the point of this blurb was to remind you to review. So do so! The prologue, Chapter one, and Chapter two are short, so bear with me!