Rainwater
Chapter 19: Humpty-Dumpty
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.
WitchyPrincess
Humpty-Dumpty
The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome each time. The incapacity to extinguish the difference between right and wrong. Consistent foolishness. Mental deterioration that renders one unable to make sound decisions or be held responsible for their actions.
Well, I guess I'll have to plea temporary insanity then. It's the only explanation for my own stupid behavior.
I don't know why but I just...I thought that the more I tried with him the better things would get. And I wasn't able to get to the part where my actions were wrong. I wasn't able to understand that no matter how many times I melted in his arms, the feelings wouldn't be returned. I kept believing that he would come around. Giving him the benefit of the doubt.
The truth is, at the end, he might have. I could have gotten what I wanted. But, funny thing about that was, I didn't want it anymore. A day late, a dollar short, you know?
And now that it's over and done with, I don' t want anything to do with the consequences. And I definitely don't want to be held responsible for my actions. Yes, pleading insanity is the best option to get out of this mess unpunished.
–Pan Son
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She was filthy. That was how she felt - worse than the first time. Just plain filthy. No amount of shower-water or crying could wash it away. She didn't even attempt to try and wash it away.
Three days and the feeling hadn't lessened. She was living her life, going through the motions, moving when she should, still when she shouldn't, but she wasn't really living. She was the walking dead and everyone that looked at her saw it.
Pan knew what she had to do, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't like admitting she was wrong but she had to this time. This time she had been very wrong and she had to apologize and humble herself. She had to take whatever was thrown at her.
This time she had really done it. And it just had to be when she'd thrown her father out of her life. When she needed him the most.
So that was why she was here. Standing on her parents' porch but afraid to knock, or even move close to the door. She was trembling like a leaf, terrified all over, and her feet were plastered right in the spot where they rested.
She lifted her hand, drawing in a deep breath, and feigned knocking on the door, really only knocking on air. Her eyes were glazed over with pain and fear. What was her father going to say to her when he saw her? He had every right to shut the door in her face and send her away.
That thought sent her knees weak and made her body collapse on herself. She crumbled, like hard bread, and buried her face in her knees. Her shoulders started wracking with sobs as she cried for the first time since she left Trunks' bed.
That thought was enough to send her into a deeper fit of sobbing. She was crying so hard the tears didn't even fall, the heart-breaking, gut-wrenching sobs just erupted from her throat and shook her entire frame. She didn't even hear the door open or feel the person standing over her with an angry and crushed expression on their face.
But she did feel his arms when he wrapped them around her body and pulled her up. She felt his comfort when he gently pushed her face into his shoulder then swooped her legs up and carried her in the house as if she was a little girl. And she was; she was his little girl.
#######
It had taken every bit of his self-control not to kill Trunks when he first realized that the man had taken advantage of his little girl. But, then, he knew his little girl and, as much as Gohan wanted to fool himself, he was aware that Pan was probably as much to blame as Trunks.
That didn't change the fact that Pan was young, had insecurity problems, and had always been in love with Trunks. That didn't change the fact that Trunks was old enough to know better and experienced enough to realize that what he was doing with Pan was wrong - even if she was willing. And it didn't change how badly Gohan wanted to rip him limb from limb when he saw Pan's face: blotchy-red from lack of oxygen while she tried to cry and not cry at the same time, eyes dimmed and lost, expression distorted in pain.
She was never supposed to know that kind of pain. Never.
If he could have, he would have cried all her tears for her, erased all the pain she could possibly ever feel, and keep her safe in his arms forever. But he couldn't do that and she didn't want him to, she had made that perfectly clear.
It was easy to forget that she didn't want him in her life, though, when she was curled up in his arms, face buried in his shoulder, and crying so hard that it wracked his whole body as well as hers.
It was easy to forget everything except what Trunks' bones would sound like when he crunched them into tiny bits and pieces. And he had every intention of breaking some.
Ultimately, it was only the guilt that egged his mind and soul, telling him that he had known what was going on and had said nothing to stop it because of his pride and foolish need to teach his daughter a lesson, that stopped his murderous daydreams about the aforementioned demi-Saiyan. If it hadn't been for the fact that he was sure Pan had dug her own hole–made her own bed, so to speak–and needed to suffer the consequences, that and Videl's definite warning after their daughter was asleep and in her old bed, he would have already been holding the man's inflated head in his nimble fingers.
Malice still wracked every crevice of his body and crept through every core of his mind. Trunks had better make sure, Gohan thought dangerously, that they never crossed paths. If they did, he would kill the boy without a second thought and he knew it. He was sure, by the surging of his ki with every moment that he continued to think about it and hear Pan's whimpers in her sleep, that Trunks knew it as well. That boy was the walking target–literally.
#######
The first day after she cried was the worst. She spent the whole day at her parents' house locked up in her room, shaking and curled up in the bed. She didn't eat, barely moved, just stared out into space. Videl was scared, watching it. She had known something horrible would happen but she didn't know the extent of how atrocious it would be.
Her daughter was having a mental breakdown and she was helpless to stop it. Pan was burrowing inside herself, trying to find something that wasn't there. Trying to recapture her meaning for existence. Videl, from past experience of having almost lost everything that mattered to her when she believed Gohan to be dead, knew what the girl was going through.
Pan no longer knew what she was living for and that was the worst kind of lost to be. She had no meaning, no purpose anymore. But, despite it all, Videl was proud of her daughter. She had finally heard what the woman was trying to tell her when they were in her apartment. And Pan had to learn for herself that sometimes the things that felt the best, hurt the worst in the end.
Watching your child stray, fall, and try and pick themselves up was the hardest part of parenting because you wanted to carry them instead of letting them walk. You wanted to shelter them and you couldn't; you could only offer your hand while they were picking up the pieces.
That was what she was going to do for Pan.
The second day was slightly better. Pan allowed Videl to hold her while she cried that day, and even ate a bit of the food that they left for her. By the fourth day she was eating soft foods and drinking plenty of liquids. And she wasn't crying in her sleep anymore.
Two weeks passed before Pan was walking and functioning, back to normal. The poison that Trunks had left in her body had bled out, and she could see the light returning to her daughter's eyes. Pan left two days later and Videl felt okay with that.
She knew Pan wasn't back to normal yet and that maybe she never would be 'normal' but that didn't mean the girl wasn't recovering. And the rest of that recovery had to be done alone. She could understand and respect that. Still, that didn't stop her from telling Pan to call every two days and to stop by and see them soon. She didn't want her daughter to lose hope and not be there to lend her some.
#######
He didn't know which one was harder: knowing Paris was gone or knowing Bra was. He hadn't wanted to keep Paris, he honestly hadn't. It wasn't that she meant something to him anymore, it was simply that she had meant everything to him for so long. And everything happened so quickly, he was confused. He was still confused, nearly three weeks later, and that wasn't something he was proud of.
He'd tried talking to Bra, a couple of days ago, he really had. But she was avoiding him as if he were the devil in human form. He couldn't find her anywhere. She didn't answer calls, she didn't return calls, she wasn't home–even when he knew she was–and she wouldn't talk to him. He hated the silent treatment.
And Paris was married to someone else! Now was the time Bra chose to avoid him? When they could finally be together and have a clear conscience about it, she chose to want to be through with him. Or maybe, a nagging voice in the back of his head reasoned, she hadn't just chosen. Maybe she'd given up on him after the Carribean Fiasco. He didn't really know, did he, because he never called to check up on her.
How was he supposed to be any kind of anything to her if he forgot all about her feelings when things got tough? After the Carribean trip he hadn't wondered if she was all right, hadn't stopped by to see how she was doing. He hadn't really given seeing her–because there was the possibility that she was incredibly hurt–a second thought. Sure, he'd debated with himself, a million times, whether or not he should see her just because he wanted to.
Because he couldn't sleep at night. Because he couldn't think about anything but her, them, and that kiss. And, to top it off, Paris was making it perfectly clear, all the while, that she wasn't the one for Goten. She was a lovely girl, in her own right, she really was. But she just wasn't everything he needed.
If she was, if they had made the wonderful couple he thought they did, would they have lasted this long just dating? They had been on and off dating for about seven years. That just wasn't normal, was it?
He had never thought about his dating Paris that way before. He had always just thought, if they had made it that long, they belonged together. But it wasn't whether or not they were still together. It was so much more. It was more than just whether or not he was still attracted to her. Whether he still enjoyed talking to her and just generally being with her.
It was about whether or not he looked forward to seeing her and being with her. It was about whether or not she could still make him smile the way she used, and him the same for her. Did he miss her when she wasn't around? Not did he miss being with somebody but did he miss her?
When he kissed her, was she the only person he ever wanted to kiss, forever? Could he promise that, years from now, just being comfortable with someone would be enough?
He didn't want 'good enough' and it was time he admitted that was what he had. He'd always known something was wrong with them; that was why they broke up, got back together, and then broke up again. Over and over as if it were some kind of sick, vicious cycle. That was why he never went back to her, always waited for her to come back to him. And that was why he didn't fret when she didn't come back to him the last time.
Not until Bra came back.
Which led him back to the problem at hand: Bra. Who didn't want him anymore. Too little, too late. And he knew she was right, that was the worst part. She had been at the tip of his fingertips and he'd let her slip away. So that he could talk to a woman whom he knew was leaving him.
Well, no, that wasn't true. Paris hadn't left him, he had told her to leave.
She had thought that, even after she got drunk, tattooed someone else's name on her body, and married said person, he would forgive her and take her back. She had thought they could work things out after she got married to someone else. She was someone's wife! The thought still rattled him.
He wasn't upset, though, because she had gotten married. He wasn't upset at all that they weren't together anymore and he realized that this meant he hadn't truly cared for her. At least not towards the end. He was upset because his pride was hurt. She'd picked someone over him.
He was the one that was supposed to do the leaving. He was going to dump her. He was the one that was supposed to end things this time, not the other way around, it was his turn. And she knew it so she beat him to the punch. He hated losing. Always.
That was selfish, and petty, he knew. But that didn't change the fact that he was angry about it.
So, the question was, what was he going to do now?
Bra didn't want him, that much was clear. Paris wanted him but he wasn't going to go down that route again. And he didn't know, truly, what he wanted. Well, he wanted Bra, but he wasn't sure why. Or where it came from, or what would happen to that feeling when he–if he ever got her.
Would he still want her or would the 'forbidden fruit' illusion be just that?
And then there was the pesky little issue of his niece. Whom also was avoiding him, and every other living soul, as if they were hell imposing on her doorstep. She had left her apartment, for some reason, to stay at her parents. And she hadn't come out any time he requested to visit her.
He'd had every intention of laying into her about that whole Trunks incident until Gohan gave him that stern, brotherly-I'm-older-than-you-so-pay-attention look, and shut him up. He'd told him not to say anything to Pan and that she had learned her lesson. But, really, Goten thought that if she was stupid enough to do something that low and...just plain irresponsible, then she was woman enough to take the browbeating that came along with it.
She was sane enough to realize that she was sleeping with Trunks. And that sleeping with Trunks was wrong. So she should be big enough to accept the consequences. And he didn't think it was fair that Gohan was protecting her that way. But, then again, she was his little girl. And protecting came along with the job.
That didn't stop Goten, however, from laying into Gohan for letting Pan do something so stupid. Which in turn got him a nasty glare, a fevered explanation, and kicked out of the Son household. Apparently, people didn't like to hear about their mistakes in an I-told-you-so manner. Even though Goten hadn't known beforehand, he assured Gohan that if he had known, he would have stopped Pan.
Which led to Gohan pointing out that he hadn't known. And everyone else had known. That just happened to make Goten feel like the worst, most self-absorbed person on Earth, and shut him up real quick. The fight had started after that and then he was kicked out.
Really though, thinking back on Gohan's vessels popping out of his neck, it was quite funny. Goten nearly chuckled but then he remembered the subject manner and instantly sobered.
He was still going to talk to Pan, he decided. Despite what Gohan had said. She was practically his sister and he was going to look after her. And then he was going to talk to Trunks and, quite possibly, punch him in the face. He had no right to treat Pan that way; like a slut.
There was nothing Pan could have done to Trunks to justify his behavior. Trunks was older, more experienced, and he had more practical sense than Pan; Pan had always been unrealistically spontaneous. Trunks could have had some self control over himself, he was a grown, old, man.
But thinking of the age difference reminded him of Bra and made him think that fourteen years wasn't so much. Except he would never take advantage of Bra's feelings for him that way. And he had been given the opportunity. The only difference between him and Trunks then was that Goten was a man and Trunks was still an immature little boy. He was irresponsible. And unjustified, he had no right.
Goten beat his fist on the table angrily as he thought this, not even jumping when his apartment door opened and shut roughly because he was so intent on his frustration.
"Goten," a smooth voice called out, slightly edgy in it's tone. "I need to talk to you."
It was Ubuu and, apparently, Goten hadn't locked his apartment door earlier when he came in. "What is it?" Goten asked as he heard the footsteps get nearer the kitchen. Then, when Ubuu was in sight, Goten drew in a breath.
He looked worse than Goten did and that was saying something. "What the hell happened to you?" Goten questioned curiously, lifting an eyebrow in confusion.
#######
She was done. It had taken her long enough but she really was done this time. For nearly a decade she had been wearing her heart on her sleeve for this man and now she was finally going to yank it back. It wasn't his to hold onto.
When she wanted to give it to him, he didn't want to accept it. When he had come around and she was still willing to hand it to him, he forgot he was reaching out for it. And now she had retracted her hand. And it hurt; like one of her limbs was missing. She kept trying to reach for it, kept trying to use it, but it wasn't there. It stung, like the memory of his face when she threw him out of her house.
Finished. And he knew it.
That still didn't change the fact that she wanted to coddle him and tell him everything would be okay in the morning. That she wanted to find Paris and ask her what on Earth was wrong to make her go off and marry someone else. She wanted to forgive Goten of everything he could have possibly ever done to hurt her. But she couldn't.
Hadn't she just told Pan that if you put up with a man's crap, he'll never change? Would she, now, put up with Goten's just because he was willing to look in her direction, and be a hypocrite? After Pan took her advice to heart and finally walked away from Trunks?
At the thought of her brother, a dangerous shiver raced through her body, sending chills of guilt all over her. If she hadn't said anything to Pan, the girl might not have walked out of Trunks' life. Then he wouldn't be so torn apart right now.
She had never seen her brother more upset. When she looked in his eyes she felt like she was staring at a ghost. Like he had no soul, no feelings, no being inside him. No reason for living anymore. But he didn't complain because he knew. He knew it was his fault and he deserved what he got.
And Bra knew. She just couldn't help feeling bad for him. Even if she was glad, because she had learned that she loved Pan as a sister, that Pan had walked away. Pan had saved herself. Yet, when it came to them, Bra was torn in two separate directions.
If Trunks was in love with Pan, why didn't he show it? Why didn't he realize it before she left him? Why had he acted the way he had? If he was in love with her then why couldn't he have just said it and treated her like a person and not a toy? If he could have, then all of this heartbreak could have been avoided. Pan was in love with Trunks, and her brother knew it.
So why would he keep his feelings from her?
Bra wished she could just blame him and be done with it. But she couldn't because of the way he kept to himself. He took full responsibility for the situation, not allowing anyone the chance to say anything negative to him because he beat them to the punch. He was deteriorating before their very eyes, he was so sad. And she loved her brother and she didn't want to see him hurt that way.
So maybe there had been a lot about Trunks and Pan's relationship that Bra just hadn't understood. If he was this distraught over Pan leaving, maybe there had been so much more than what she thought there had been. And maybe, just maybe, she'd spoken too soon and too out of turn. Maybe she'd done the wrong thing.
Two people that loved one another, no matter the circumstances, should be together. Despite it all. That was just what she believed.
Of course, Goten didn't love her. He said he wanted her but he didn't say he loved her. And he didn't act as though he wanted her; otherwise he would have focused more on her and less on Paris. Otherwise, he wouldn't have forgotten about her completely just because Paris was in the room. And, truth be told, she was tired of playing second best to Paris.
She was tired of being the person thought of last. It was time for her to step up and speak for herself, time for her to make sure her life was the way she wanted it to be. She didn't need Goten to be happy, she had just wanted him.
She was not going to base her life on someone else. Not anymore. She was going to be the Saiyan Princess she knew she could be. She was going to be strong, and independent, and she was going to do it without making a big fuss.
She wouldn't hold her breath, waiting for Goten to come around anymore. Even with Paris out of the picture, if Paris was out of the picture, she wasn't going to fall into Goten's arms. Not without a fight, at least. And if he wasn't willing to fight, like she'd been, then she didn't want him anyway. He didn't deserve her.
It was the sound of her brother's footsteps that drew her out of the world of the dead, thinking of her own problems, and made her realize she was sitting on the window sill in the living room again. Her shoulders were shaking up and down as if she were crying. But she wasn't; she couldn't cry.
"Why are you awake?" His voice came out scratchy, as if unused for a few days.
She swallowed, bit her lip, but didn't respond. Her head, by the time he spoke, had come up, her eyes meeting his own. He sighed and walked past her, headed for the kitchen.
"Why are you?" She challenged, before he could make it out of the living room.
He sighed. She could nearly feel him tense as he paused in his get-away. Then he turned back around, agonizingly slowly, and set her with a penetrating glare.
"It's unnatural to wake up thinking about someone, go through your day thinking about them, go to bed thinking about them, and still have dreams about them at night. It's not fair that you can't even escape their pain in your dreams. When even in your dreams, the one person you want most to hold, won't let you touch them, there's something wrong. And it's no wonder you don't go to sleep."
She nodded, closing her eyes, resting her head on the window pane and knowing she shouldn't have asked. She felt his pain when talked, literally felt it creep through in the sound of his voice. And she felt bad for him. She loved him most in the world and he was hurting. What could she say? You deserve it?
She opened her eyes slowly to look at him, he was still staring at her, glaring. A hurtful smirk crossed his face, as if he'd read her mind, and he shook his head when her eyes read into his heart. "You don't have to say it, Bra. You don't have to say anything. I know. I asked for this and it's no one's fault but my own."
Her breathing escalated as she forced herself to spit out her question. One word. "Why?" Why had he done this to Pan?
"Why are you in love with Goten? And why, if you're in love with him, won't you pursue it with all your heart? Why do you protect yourself, guard yourself, the way you do? Why did you leave and go to New York? Why didn't you come back? Why haven't you tried explaining yourself or fixing whatever problems pushed you away?
"Why ask why, Bra? Because it was. And it is. And it happened the way it happened. I loved her too late and that's all there is to it. I think it's called karma. And I think it's killing me; I've become living death."
She glared momentarily, opening her mouth to defend herself, but thought better of it. He had said something, something significant. She couldn't let it pass. "You can never love anyone too late, Trunks. If you love her, and she loves you, there's something you can do about this. There's-"
"Even if there was, Bra, I wouldn't do it." He cut her off quickly. "She deserves something so much better than me. I just wish I could take away all the pain I've caused her. Undue all the damage. And if, after all this, she can find someone who loves her, someone who can take her, unconditionally, the way I would be able to now, then I hope she hangs on to it. I hope she is able to forgive herself, if nothing else, and move on past the shit I put her through.
"I hope she finds someone who loves her the way I do. And who'll treat her better than I ever could. Because she deserves it. And I don't deserve her."
"Whether that's true or not, she loves you. She can't change that. And, even if you're not good enough for her, she deserves to be loved by the person she loves most. Asking her not to be is unfair."
"What are you saying then? That I should pursue Pan after all this? Dende, Bra, I can't do that. I can't hurt her again. I won't."
"Exactly." She intoned, a look of wisdom on her pale face.
"No. It isn't right." He shook the notion off, completely dismissing it before it had a chance to corrupt him, if even only for a second. He wouldn't allow it.
She sighed. "Okay, Trunks, do me a favor, will you? Just one favor? For old time's sake."
"What, Bra?"
"Promise me that, if she comes back to you, if she forgives you, you won't let the opportunity pass. Promise me you'll try and make things right. Please?"
"She never wants to see me again and I'm going to make sure she gets her wish." He finalized, face set so that she dropped the subject immediately. "But do me a favor, would you?" He asked after a second, noticing how pale and thin she was.
"Promise me that you'll talk to someone about whatever it is that's got you looking so distraught. Even if you don't talk to me, talk to someone. Because I," He stopped, voice chocked, and moved closer to her direction.
Her eyes had closed due to stinging pain, and she was trembling in all parts of her body. She wasn't crying, not a drop, not one single drop. But she was hyperventilating in a way he had never seen her do before. He took her in his arms and cradled her, falling to the floor and curling her body against his own, rocking her as if she were a little child.
"Shhh," he whispered, rubbing his hands over her blue hair and the sides of her face. "Shhh, it's okay Bra. Please, tell me what's wrong."
"He's gone, Trunks," she murmured, burying her head in the crook of his neck. "He's gone and he's not coming back. I sent him away, I just sent him away." She was sobbing invisible tears that wouldn't come. "And I can't have him now, not now. He'll never fight for me. He won't come back." The last part was said so softy and in broken pieces that he hardly caught it.
He didn't say anything about that, didn't question her for meaning. Only soothed her, whispering unintelligible words of comfort in her ear as he rocked her. He held her and rocked her until she fell asleep. And then he held her some more.
#######
It took him a long time to even come up with an answer. His heart was pounding fast, his face pale, his hands shaking with rage and defeat. He had held it in for so long that he was afraid, if he didn't talk to someone, he would burst.
He had tried to tell her, a million times, that she needed to be calm and rational. That she needed to think about other people's feelings. That, when she made a decision, she should be open and honest about it with all the people around her. Especially this, this had changed his life.
It wasn't fair that she was the only one that had a say in it. It wasn't fair that she had done something like that–so personal, and loving, and committing–with him when he didn't know her true reason behind it. It was manipulative. It was cruel.
And she deserved what she got.
But that didn't change anything. He couldn't help but, "Love her. I love her, Goten." He came into the kitchen and took a seat, resting his head on the table in front of him.
"Who, Ubuu? What are you talking about?"
"I love her and she thought she could just use my emotions and then throw them away like that. She thought because she's Marron, that she could just offer me sex and everything would be okay. I thought I had her heart, Goten," he pleaded, looking up from the table with crushed eyes.
"Do you know what that feels like?" He demanded, banging his hands on the sturdy wood. "Do you know what it's like to offer your entire being to someone else, to think that they're accepting it, and find out that they were only thinking about themselves!?"
Goten swallowed, moving away from the table a bit and reaching out a cautioning hand. He gently placed it on Ubuu's shoulder. "It's okay, why don't you tell me from the beginning?"
Somehow, hearing Ubuu's confession, made a guilty sort-of air rise up in Goten's heart. It made him flash back to Bra's face when she'd kicked him out of her house. Her eyes had looked just as angry, just as crushed, as Ubuu's. His gut churned in realization.
"There's no need to go all the way back there. It doesn't matter now. What matters is that she slept with me. She thought we slept together in the Carribean, apparently, and of course we hadn't. I had been angry with her because she got herself so drunk, drunk enough to fall into some strangers arms. And then I'd had to spend the entire night fighting her off me until she passed out.
"Do you know how hard it is to fight off someone that's throwing themselves at you, when you're in love with them? But Marron's an idiot drunk, so I knew she didn't know what she was doing. And then she slept with me."
"What?" Goten asked, confused. "I thought you said you didn't sleep with her?"
"Not then. But she woke up and thought we'd slept together. And I wasn't talking to her because she's such an idiot drunk, so she thought I was angry because she couldn't remember sleeping with me. So she came to me, a while later, and slept with me. Somehow she thought that would make it better. But do you know what it's like to realize, after you've just shared something that personal with someone else, that they were only doing it because they were curious and they wanted to make amends for something that didn't even happen?"
"Maybe she genuinely cares for you," Goten chimed in, feeling more of that guilt stir his soul. He had been curious. Wasn't that why he was at Bra's house? It certainly wasn't because he loved her; but he did care for her. Shouldn't that count for something?
"So what? She couldn't be honest and up-front about that? She couldn't say: 'look, I'm starting to care for you as more than just a friend, but I want to see where that takes me and not rush into things'? She couldn't have asked me what I thought about it and given me a chance to think it over? She just had to make a declaration, for both of us, without giving me all the facts or any options?"
"Maybe she didn't think about all that." Goten challenged, starting to get defensive.
"And maybe she's just so inconsiderate and stuck in her own world, that she couldn't step out of it for a second to remember I had a heart." Ubuu spat, leaning back in his chair.
Goten was shell-shocked. Did he ignore Bra? Did he not notice who she was, how she felt?
"She takes me for granted." Ubuu added, as if in afterthought, a bitter smile on his lips.
Did he take Bra for granted?
"What makes you say so?" Goten asked, sounding guilty this time. Ubuu gave him a questioning glare.
"She pretends like she hasn't noticed how in love with her I am. She doesn't appreciate everything I do for her, never even noticed how well she had it with me until I walked away from her. She didn't realize how many wrongs I'd forgiven her for until the one time when I decided she'd just crossed the line. And now she wants to sit at home and mope, ignore my phone calls, and just generally stay away from me as if I've broken her heart and she deserves an apology."
He was right. Bra had forgiven him for a million things without saying a word and the one time when she hadn't he'd become unjustifiably angry. He hadn't seriously tried to talk to her since, the sorry attempts that she could easily ignore didn't count. He was a jerk. A self-centered jerk.
"You're right," he spoke aloud, amazement to his voice. Ubuu gave him another confused glare before shaking his head.
"What's up with you?" He asked, not missing the way his friend seemed to have checked out on him. "What are you on about?"
"Hey, listen, Ubuu. Maybe Marron doesn't realize how you feel. And, if you love her that much, maybe you should tell her these things instead of me. She can't change if she doesn't know what she's doing wrong, can she?"
Ubuu was quiet for a few minutes before he sighed heavily. "That's what I've been trying to do but she won't return my phone calls. And now I'm beginning to think that I shouldn't have reacted the way I had in the first place." He admitted sheepishly. "I mean, I did kick her out of my house. And she looked crushed. I've never wanted to see her look like that, much less be the cause of it."
Goten quickly shook his head, eyes getting wide. "You haven't done a thing wrong. It's not your fault that some people are idiots, Bra–" he coughed, to cover it up. "Ubuu. It's not your fault.
"Seriously, if you love her then tell her this. Don't let her shut you out. Fight for her until her beautiful blue eyes shine the way the used to. Fight until she can't turn you away and she has to forgive you for being an idiot for years. Fight because you want to hold her in your arms, and you want to be able to make her smile, and you want to keep her for always.
"Don't let her scramble off to New York and other places without telling you where she's going, or when she coming back, again. Just–"
"Goten," Ubuu interrupted, looking highly amused. "Just tell Bra you love her and save us all the trouble."
That was the first time Ubuu had ever seen Goten blush from the tip of his head to the bottom of his neck. He made a mental note to remind Goten as often as possible, so it wouldn't be the last.
"And thanks for the advice anyway."
To be continued...
sidenote: This is seriously un-edited. So if you see something really stupid, forgive me.