+++Disclaimer+++
I don't own DragonBallZ or any of the characters.
+++Explanations+++ This story is as if the History of Trunks movie never existed. I've changed
a few things for plot purposes, but nothing big like names, races, etc.
Trunks narrates the story.
+++Chapter 9+++
I walk into the shop, and there's Rupert, shoving a sub sandwich into his mouth as he sorts through a rack of records in the far west corner of the store. I throw down my worn messenger bag and run over to him, grabbing him by the collar and taking the sandwich away. "You're getting your damn fingerprints all over the records!" Rupert licks his fingers and eyes me strangely, pulling away from my grasp. "Man, chill. You've got some serious issues, Trunks. And don't EVER touch my jacket. This is motherfucking VINTAGE!" He rips the sandwich away and shoves another portion of it into his mouth. I roll my eyes, walk over behind the counter, and take off my jacket, then pull on a sweatshirt that I keep underneath part of the counter that also contains a half-eaten bag of pretzels and an unopened bottle of apple juice. Rupert looks over at me as he climbs up onto the counter and takes a seat. "Why're you so bloody late, man?" I shrug and just take a seat on the counter as well, unwrapping the Snickers bar that I call my breakfast. He eyes me suspiciously. "Have a 'speciaw night' with Sewena?" He asks in a fake baby voice. I shoot him a glare. "No. I just didn't sleep." That's the truth, actually, as dumb as it sounds. I lay there watching Serena sleep most of the night, and I assure you that it's one of the most rewarding things in the world. Rupert rolls his eyes and groans as a customer, one of our regular musical morons, comes up to him with an album in hand.
"How much?" He stiffly hands the record over to Rupert. Rupert fakes a disappointed face.
"Aw, sorry, I'm not selling this one this week."
"Oh, no no no. You said that last week!"
Rupert just shrugs and keeps his look of fake disappointment on as the customer keeps trying to convince him to sell it. The guy eventually just storms out of the store. I frown and take the record from Rupert. "I'm fucking broke, Rupe!" Rupert just laughs in my face and sticks his tongue out like a little child that's just gotten its way after an argument. +++++
I sit out on the deck of our second floor bedroom after the sun goes down, wearing some plaid pajama pants and a grey Capsule Corp. tee shirt, my headphones on and my portable CD player in my lap. All my friends are the same age as I am, and they all exclaim that they never, ever want to get married, because it just ties you down. They also say they never want to have children, and up until now, as I feel the slight October breeze across my skin, I have agreed with them.
Serena is lying in my arms, reading a book. Earlier tonight, we were out at a pub having drinks and playing pool with friends and acting like children, like complete idiots. The friends we hang out with are actually friends of mine; mostly guys, and none of them understand why I've stayed with Serena for such a long time. Nor do they understand why I haven't had sex with her. The answer to the first question is because I love her more than life itself, and the answer to the second is because we respect each other. But I've gotten completely off subject. What I was saying earlier about never wanting marriage or children, that's how I used to feel. But I look at Serena and wonder if I've been wrong all these years. She's told me the only reason she's hesitant to have children is because this world has completely gone down the shitter, what with the Androids and everything. She also thinks we're too young, which I can kind of agree with. I mean, we're both 22 and healthy, not dying anytime soon (unless, of course, it's in battle), so we could wait, right? But what would be the point? I already know how happy I am with Serena, how much I want to spend the rest of my life with her. How much I want to have children with her. How much I love her.
I don't own DragonBallZ or any of the characters.
+++Explanations+++ This story is as if the History of Trunks movie never existed. I've changed
a few things for plot purposes, but nothing big like names, races, etc.
Trunks narrates the story.
+++Chapter 9+++
I walk into the shop, and there's Rupert, shoving a sub sandwich into his mouth as he sorts through a rack of records in the far west corner of the store. I throw down my worn messenger bag and run over to him, grabbing him by the collar and taking the sandwich away. "You're getting your damn fingerprints all over the records!" Rupert licks his fingers and eyes me strangely, pulling away from my grasp. "Man, chill. You've got some serious issues, Trunks. And don't EVER touch my jacket. This is motherfucking VINTAGE!" He rips the sandwich away and shoves another portion of it into his mouth. I roll my eyes, walk over behind the counter, and take off my jacket, then pull on a sweatshirt that I keep underneath part of the counter that also contains a half-eaten bag of pretzels and an unopened bottle of apple juice. Rupert looks over at me as he climbs up onto the counter and takes a seat. "Why're you so bloody late, man?" I shrug and just take a seat on the counter as well, unwrapping the Snickers bar that I call my breakfast. He eyes me suspiciously. "Have a 'speciaw night' with Sewena?" He asks in a fake baby voice. I shoot him a glare. "No. I just didn't sleep." That's the truth, actually, as dumb as it sounds. I lay there watching Serena sleep most of the night, and I assure you that it's one of the most rewarding things in the world. Rupert rolls his eyes and groans as a customer, one of our regular musical morons, comes up to him with an album in hand.
"How much?" He stiffly hands the record over to Rupert. Rupert fakes a disappointed face.
"Aw, sorry, I'm not selling this one this week."
"Oh, no no no. You said that last week!"
Rupert just shrugs and keeps his look of fake disappointment on as the customer keeps trying to convince him to sell it. The guy eventually just storms out of the store. I frown and take the record from Rupert. "I'm fucking broke, Rupe!" Rupert just laughs in my face and sticks his tongue out like a little child that's just gotten its way after an argument. +++++
I sit out on the deck of our second floor bedroom after the sun goes down, wearing some plaid pajama pants and a grey Capsule Corp. tee shirt, my headphones on and my portable CD player in my lap. All my friends are the same age as I am, and they all exclaim that they never, ever want to get married, because it just ties you down. They also say they never want to have children, and up until now, as I feel the slight October breeze across my skin, I have agreed with them.
Serena is lying in my arms, reading a book. Earlier tonight, we were out at a pub having drinks and playing pool with friends and acting like children, like complete idiots. The friends we hang out with are actually friends of mine; mostly guys, and none of them understand why I've stayed with Serena for such a long time. Nor do they understand why I haven't had sex with her. The answer to the first question is because I love her more than life itself, and the answer to the second is because we respect each other. But I've gotten completely off subject. What I was saying earlier about never wanting marriage or children, that's how I used to feel. But I look at Serena and wonder if I've been wrong all these years. She's told me the only reason she's hesitant to have children is because this world has completely gone down the shitter, what with the Androids and everything. She also thinks we're too young, which I can kind of agree with. I mean, we're both 22 and healthy, not dying anytime soon (unless, of course, it's in battle), so we could wait, right? But what would be the point? I already know how happy I am with Serena, how much I want to spend the rest of my life with her. How much I want to have children with her. How much I love her.