I would have slept in well past midday if the phone hadn't rung and woken me from my deep and peaceful sleep, sprawled out across my disgusting pink bed almost a week after Bra's visit. I scrambled to my feet, and stumbled across the room to retrieve the receiver from my desk.
"What?" I muttered groggily upon answering the call.
"Gee, you don't sound so good, Pan." Zara's voice replied from the other end. "Are you feeling alright this morning?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." I lied, still having not recovered from the shock of last week's news. I froze, mid conversation, realizing that this was the second time I had lied to Zara throughout the course of my entire life. But I honestly didn't feel like discussing Elijah with anyone at the time…not even my best friend, and the one person I had never told a lie to until I had arrived at the Brief's home. "Just a little tired."
"Sorry if I woke you up." She continued, obviously having not noticed the hesitance in my voice. "But I really need to talk to you. Listen, I can't go out today because I have to be dragged along to some boring old country club with my mother. But I asked my parents, and they both agreed to let me have a friend come to dinner tonight."
I could almost feel my whole face brighten instantly. I had always wanted to visit Zara, but she seemed to think that her house was somewhere no one should go unless it was perfectly necessary. From the many stories she'd told me in the past about her family, I had to agree with her. But even so I had always been intrigued to find out what lay beyond the large shell of her parents giant mansion. All at once, my troubles seemed to wash out through the open bedroom window when I thought of what the afternoon would hold for me. But after I recovered from this, I reminded myself that Zara would only ask me to her house as a last resort when she couldn't find any other time to meet with me, which meant that she was desperate to talk.
"So what's so important that you need to invite me over to tell me anyway?" I asked quizzically.
"Not over the phone." Zara giggled, causing me to shudder. I honestly couldn't understand what had gotten into her all of a sudden. She was almost acting like someone…normal. "I'll tell you when you get to my place. We always eat at six sharp, so make sure that you're there in time, ok?"
"Whatever." I mumbled, and hung up before she could say another word. Suddenly overcome with a sense of exhaustion, I stumbled back across the room and dropped onto my bed once more.
I hadn't done anything particularly exhausting recently, and had spent most of my time alone in my room reading one of Bra's old books, sleeping in both the closet and on my bed, and using the computer. The rest of the time was spent training with Vegeta. I was beginning to love these training sessions, as it gave me time to take my mind off things when I was too preoccupied with fighting, or with continuously shouting insults at my sparring partner. I didn't have time to think about Elijah, or about Trunks, because I was far too busy doing something I loved. This was how I came to understand why Trunks had suddenly become so immersed with his work. He didn't want to have to think about me.
My life now seemed to be completely without order or any routine. I ate, slept and showered and odd hours, and I found myself sleeping more often than I used to, most likely because I was worn out from the intense training sessions with Vegeta. It was good, I decided that afternoon, to work my way back into some sort of ordered lifestyle. It reminded me of the ways things were before…before summer…before any of this had to happen…
(o)
A storm was brewing in the east when it came time for me to make my way to Zara's house. I could see the clouds from my bedroom window, dark and murky, lurking over the purest blue sky that usually shrouded the ocean. This was good for two things. It made Bulma find herself obliged to offer me a lift in her car so that I wouldn't need to take public transport, and it gave us something to talk about during the trip.
"Horrible whether we've been having recently."
"Yeah."
"The storm should be here before night sets in properly. I hope I've remembered to take in the laundry. I must check when I get home."
"Hmm…"
"Is the whether this bad in your part of the world?"
"Sometimes it's worse."
"Oh really? What does your family do when there's a storm."
"Well, my parents just stay inside. But I usually just ignore it and go out and play with…Elijah."
"Hmm…well you should be careful. You don't want to get struck by lighting and end up in hospital, do you?"
"Hmm…"
Eventually, we pulled up in front of the giant white mansion, surrounded with a large, barred gold gate and thick white wall that hid the sweeping garden and the base of the house from view. The only visible part of the house was the top story (the fourth, as Zara had told me), and several palm tress that just prodded over the surface of the wall.
"I won't go in with you, dear." Bulma informed me, leaning past me to open my door. "But I'll be back to pick you up at about nine. Is that alright with you?"
"Yeah." I smiled politely. "Thanks, Bulma."
I dropped out of the car and onto the pavement, slamming the door shut behind me and waiting on the curb as Bulma sped away into the distance. Already, I could feel a light sprinkle of rainwater trickle down onto the back of my hand, and hurried to the intercom attached to the side of the wall beside the gate, and held down the button, speaking into it clearly.
"Hey, it's Pan Son. Zara's friend. I was invited here to dinner."
"One moment please, Miss Son." A male voice cackled in reply, and the gates swung back automatically to reveal the elaborate garden that lay beyond.
Although I had already seen the garden once, it still amazed me that so much space could belong to one family. It was a true island paradise, with tall palm trees, small shrubs and water features littering the large grounds. A long drive ran up to the main house, where a large fountain stood in the centre of a round-a-bout, spilling water from the mouth of a fish at the top.
I followed the drive to the water fountain, marvelling at the house that loomed ahead of me. Even in the dimly lit twilight, it managed to look as spectacular as ever, with brilliant white walls and large, glass windows that opened onto tiny balconies that were home to neatly trimmed hedges, flower boxes and beach chairs on the third and fourth levels of the house. The ground floor was surrounded by a terrace, which was covered with a roof held by marble pillars. The windows on the lower two stories were, although smaller than the others, immaculate and well-kept.
Zara was waiting for me on the front stoop, dressed in black dress pants and a plain black, velvet shirt. Her raven black hair, recently streaked with purple, had been left to fall over her unusually pale face, although her dark eyes remained as bright as her welcoming smile.
"Thank god you're here." She grinned, leading the way onto the terrace, her black boots clicking on the white tiled floor. "I desperately need to talk with you."
"Don't tell me you're planning to commit suicide again." I said sardonically.
"No, not this time." She winked, fingering the talisman she wore around her neck on a silver chain. "I'll tell you as soon as we finish dinner. Oh, and beware my mother. No doubt she'll bombard you with personal questions."
I laughed, choosing to take her warning as a joke. But I was soon to find out that I she had been telling the honest truth. When Mrs White greeted us in the front room of her house (what I later came to know as the lobby), I discovered that she was nothing like her daughter. She was an eloquent, middle-aged woman with a perfect feminine figure, clad in a pastel pink dress suit, beige stockings and high heeled working shoes, although I had the impression that she did not work at all. Her dull blonde hair was cut and bobbed where it ended just bellow her ears. Beyond the curtain of hair, I could see large pearl stud earrings in each ear, that matched her necklace, bracelet and the rings she wore perfectly – with the acceptation of her wedding and engagement rings, which were plain gold bands, one which was topped with a large diamond. On first impression, none would have thought that Mrs White was related to Zara at all.
"Welcome to our humble home, Pan, dear." Mrs White beamed, her lips wet with pink lipstick. When she smiled, I noticed, large dimples formed in the corners of her mouth, changing the shape of her wrinkled, powdered cheeks. I then discovered where Zara had inherited her natural pale complexion from, although Mrs White took a great deal of care to cover it with layers of makeup, unlike her daughter. "I've heard so much about you from Madeline Rose."
She stepped forward and enveloped me in a cold embrace. Her hold on me was surprisingly tight, and I struggled to wriggle free until she released her hold on me. I could hear Zara attempting to stifle a laugh behind me, and shot her a dark look over her mother's shoulder.
"Dinner is about to be served." Mrs White continued, her honey suckle coloured eyes smiling a false smile from behind dark eyelids. "Madeline Rose, show your guest to the bathroom so she can wash up before her meal."
The moment Mrs White had departed, Zara burst into a hysterical fit of laughter, her cheeks turning a bright red. I scowled, grasping her hand in an attempt to help her to stabilize herself, and saw that tears of laughter were spilling from her eyes. The elderly doorman (the one who had spoken with me over the intercom) was shooting us both menacing glances from his post behind a chestnut desk at the door.
"What's your problem?" I frowned once she'd regained her composure.
"My mum, that's the problem." She laughed. "She already hates you."
"No she doesn't." I defended, slightly taken aback. "Well…she didn't act like it."
"That's because she was trying to be polite." She reasoned. "Trust me, Pan. I've seen my mother greet millions of people in this room before, and I can tell what her first impression of them may be just from the look in her eyes."
"I don't get it. What's there to hate?" I demanded. "What did I do?"
"Well…there's you dress sense for one thing." Zara said pointedly. Glancing down at my baggy, ripped jeans, scruffy sneakers and oversized, second-hand emerald green shirt and my unkempt hair that I had forgotten to tie back with a bandana, I supposed that I must have appeared terribly out-of-place in the elaborately decorated entrance room.
"Oh shut up, Madeline Rose." I retorted bitterly, causing the laughter to stop and anger to flood into her face. She quickly recovered, and led the way to the nearest bathroom, leaving the startled doorman in her wake.
(o)
I had never felt more out of place at that dinner with the White family. Their dinning room – with its incredibly long chestnut table and matching fifteen high-backed dining chairs, blood red floor rug that resembled a tapestry, portraits and paintings framed in gold and hung along the red walls, and the huge chandelier positioned above the very centre of the room and table – was far too sophisticated for me, as was the case with the entire family.
Mr White was the sort of man who always wore a suit, even on weekends and when he wasn't working at whatever boring job he wasted most of his life away at. His firm, well structured face, tight and colourless lips, beady black eyes, thick muscled body and the little grey hair he had left made it hard for me to picture him wearing anything else at all. That night, he wore a grey suit and tie, giving the air that he was someone with little personality, which wasn't too far from the truth.
Zara's older sister, Penelope Anne, wasn't much better for company. She was eighteen, as Zara had told me, just out of school and preparing for collage. She was beautiful, no doubt, with her mother's elegant figure and her sister's pale skin, with butter blonde hair that reached as low as her waist, which she had tied back with a pink ribbon to match her pink cocktail gown and gold earrings. She was the sort of girl without any imperfections, who would be what her family would label as the perfect daughter.
Mr White was obviously unimpressed when we arrived in the dinning room late. Zara ignored his darkened glances, and lowered herself daintily into the seat beside her sister. I chose to follow her lead, and was about to sit beside her when Mrs White stopped me in a cool, yet uncollected tone.
"Darling, you are to sit in the guest's chair, over there." She nodded to the seat that was opposite the rest of the family, two seats down from where Zara sat.
"I don't want to sit there." I protested. Despite the fact that I was petrified by Mrs White, I did not want her to know my fear, and had never been one to settle for what others wanted of me, if it was not something I agreed to. "I'm isolated from everyone else, and look at all the other spare seats. Why can't I just sit next to Zara?"
"Because it is not what is done." Mrs White replied calmly, though any could see that she was clearly outraged. "You must sit in the guest's chair, dear."
"But…" I trailed away, baffled by the ignorance of the family. "But…who's going to sit in these other seats?"
"Oh, no one usually sits in those chairs." Mrs White replied airily. "You see, they're usually reserved for the more important guests."
"But I'm your only guest." I said through clenched teeth, hating the way she would annunciate on the word 'important'.
"You may be our only guest tonight, but you are not an important guest. Now take your seat."
I did not move, determined not to give up, although I knew from the looks on everyone's faces that this was a battle I could not win. Both Zara and Penelope were gawking at me in awe, as if I had just broken an unwritten law. Mr and Mrs White were clearly bubbling with rage, though their upbringing did not permit them to brake out and holler at me from across the table. I could tell that all four were struggling to hold their composure, so I eventually decided it would be best to compromise.
"Why don't I just sit there?" I suggested, gesturing to the seat on Mr White's right hand side, directly opposite Mrs White.
"No," She shook her head firmly. "That is my son, Henry's seat."
"Henry doesn't live here anymore!" I blurted out, losing all sense of self control. "He moved out when he got married! Zara told me!"
"Would you please seise to refer to my daughter as Zara Black, and call her by her correct birth name!" Mrs White bellowed, rising to her feet with such rage that the chair toppled over behind her.
"Oh could you both please be quiet! Some of us are trying to enjoy our meal!" Mr White commanded from the head of the table, now getting to his feet as well in a burst of sudden rage. "Gwendolyn, let the child sit where she pleases and be done with it! This is an argument neither of you can win."
Mrs White was silent, her cheeks flushing red beneath her makeup from both anger and embarrassment. With excellent composure and grace, she stooped to return her chair to its rightful position, and lowered herself into it daintily, taking her cutlery in hand. I gazed back at her avidly, bewildered by her actions. It was as if the argument had never taken place.
"Pan," I heard Zara hiss in my ear. "Sit down."
Not taking the time to consider my actions, I moved to sit in Henry's seat to the right of Mr White, drawing myself closer to the table and causing the chair legs to scrape noisily across the shimmering surface of the wooden floor.
"Walter, please move Miss Son's dinner things to the place beside me." Mr White ordered with an exasperated sigh. Upon his command, a butler emerged from behind a door that led to the kitchen, and brought my meal, cutlery and glass and placed them all in front of me. I smiled in thanks, but said nothing as he backed into the kitchen again.
"So how are you finding living with the Briefs?" Mrs White asked me civilly from across the table after a pause. She pretended to be focused on her roast dinner, but I noticed that she was glancing up at me continuously from her plate.
"It's alright…I suppose." I mumbled, draining my glass of water with one gulp.
"I spoke with Bra Briefs only the other day." Penelope piped up, her voice meek and feeble. "Apparently, she and her husband are now awaiting their first child."
"Oh really?" Mr White replied sardonically. "How interesting."
"I don't see how they'll be able to raise a child in that tiny apartment they call a home. And with the lifestyles they have…" Mrs White shook her head in false dismay. "What did Bulma make of it all?"
"Oh, she was very happy." I replied lamely. Mrs White raised one fine eyebrow, but made no comment about my statement.
"Yes, well…any woman would be happy to be a grandmother. I know I was pleased when my Henry had his first. Madeline Rose, fetch me a glass of scotch, would you?"
"What about that Trunks Briefs, Pan?" Penelope said excitedly. I half expected Zara to drop the glass of scotch she was carrying back to the table at the mere mention of Trunks' name, but she managed to uphold her composure. "How many women have been to see him during your stay?"
"Of course, Penelope Anne is completely infatuated by him. But then again, so are many other young girls in this part of the world. He is, I suppose, the most eligible bachelor in Capsule City. Quite an attractive creature, with a good job, good money and a good background. Not very well mannered, though. But I honestly don't blame him, with an upbringing like his. His father! My word, have you seen him? Apparently, he encourages violence and recklessness in the boy, and his behaviour is appalling. I remember having the Briefs here to dinner once, when Zara was away on summer camp…oh, what a night that was! But his mother isn't much better…what with all her crazy experiments and barbeques and social hours…you know, apparently she's been known to have these stragglers come to stay with her from out in the woods. Complete barbarians, I believe."
I swallowed a lump of turkey that had been caught in the back of my throat. Mrs White's gossip really opened my eyes to the way the rest of high society saw the Briefs family…and it was a complete alteration of the truth. Especially what she had said about my family, although I decided not to bring up the fact that I was one of those 'barbarians'.
"So why are you staying with the Briefs?" Penelope asked me.
"Oh my dear, haven't you heard?" Mrs White exclaimed, pausing to build tension whilst taking a sip of her scotch. "The Briefs have taken Pan in as a kind favour to her family, apparently who are old and well known friends of theirs. Pan has been staying with them for the summer because her family fears that she won't be able to cope with the approaching and inevitable death of her young cousin."
This time, I could not swallow the piece of turkey that caught in my throat out of pure rage and began to choke and splutter. Mr White patted me on the back with a firm, stiff hand, though it did me no good. I was enraged not only with the White family, but with high society in general. My life really was none of their business.
"Oh dear! Are you alright?" Penelope asked worriedly.
I nodded, speaking through coughs. "Yeah. I'm fine…just need…water."
I stood and darted to the offside table to the right side of the main dining table, pushed up against the wall. Several drinks had been left in glass jugs on the table, ready for refilling. I took my time helping myself to a glass of apple juice, listening to the conversation still taking place behind me.
"You know," Mrs White continued. "They say that Pan's cousin is violently ill with a new disease found only in children of his age. Quite a rare thing to happen, actually, and they are yet to discover a cure for the illness, which means that there is no hope for the poor child. Quite a tragedy, really."
"Shut the hell up, mum." Zara hissed in an infertile attempt to stop me from overhearing.
"Language, Madeline Rose." Mrs White instructed.
"Oh right." Zara smirked, using the opportunity to change the subject. "Shut the hell up, mother."
"I have raised the child of the devil." Mrs White sighed melodramatically.
"Damn straight." Zara cackled.
"Madeline, be silent or you'll be sent to your room." Mr White warned. I noticed upon returning to the table that Mr White had already practically licked his plate clean of gravy. I decided to make a point of finishing all my potatoes in an effort to gain his admiration. Sure enough, he smiled at me approvingly.
I was just beginning to be accepted at the table, even by Mrs White, when I took a long gulp of apple juice to wash down the roasted pork I'd just finished, much to Mr White's approval. The moment the glass touched my lips, I knew that its contense wasn't apple juice. It was Mrs White's scotch. But already it was too late, and the horrible stuff had slid down into my throat. I gurgled the drink back into my mouth and spat it out across the table. It spurted from my mouth and flew over the table, drenching Mrs White's pastel pink suit.
For a moment, she stared at me disbelievingly, as if she refused to believe that I had just covered her from head to toe in scotch and my own saliva. But slowly, her delicate forehead creased into frown lines, and her eyes shone darkly, mouth twisting into a strange, evil smile.
"Ok, we better be off now, everyone. Thanks for the food, really great." Zara said hurriedly, taking in the situation immediately. I rose to my feet, glancing at Mrs White. She did not move, as if frozen in time with her own bitter loathing.
"What…what are you talking about, girl? You haven't finished off your turkey yet!" Mr White exclaimed.
"Yes, well I'm really not that hungry right now." Zara spoke as she crossed the room and grabbed me by the arm, wrenching me to the door that led into the main corridor of the house. "I guess we'll be seeing you all later. Bye!"
Luckily for me, I didn't have to see Mrs White again for the rest of the evening.
(o)
"So why did you bring me over here in the first place?" I asked her irritably when we arrived in her room.
I guessed that her room must have been her refuge from the rest of her house, as her parents had obviously allowed her to design it to her own liking. She had painted the walls black and the ceiling gold, and a huge stereo took up almost one whole wall. She had a fake leopard-fur bedspread, a black plush elephant the size of a full-grown man she'd told me she'd kept from her childhood and never wanted to part with that sat on the beige carpet beside her wardrobe, and a black beanbag that rested beside her collection of CDs.
"You're going to think I'm incredibly childish and stupid." She muttered darkly, sprawling out across her four poster bed. I dragged the beanbag over to the side of the bed and dropped into it casually, glad to be able to relax and forget about the rest of Zara's family, that were most likely still discussing me downstairs.
"Zara, I already think you're incredibly childish and stupid." I retorted. "So just come out with it, ok?"
"Fine." She replied huffily, propping herself up with one arm and turning to face me completely, keeping her eyes downwards with embarrassment and toying with the leopard-fur bedspread between her fingers. "I like someone. Happy?"
"Well, no…not particularly. I didn't ask for you to tell me in the first place, and if that's what you dragged me over here for, then I'm not going to be very happy with you." I sighed. "Besides, I already am aware of your obsession with Trunks Briefs."
"Oh, but this isn't like it was with Trunks." Zara giggled. "It's not just some stupid crush on someone that I have no chance with. This is for real."
"I thought your crush on Trunks was real." I replied, somehow feeling as if a great load of weight had been lifted from my back by her words.
"No!" She cried. "Well…yes. But it wasn't as if I had any chance with him, huh? So of course I was only just toying with the idea. It wasn't as if I planned to go out with him or anything. But this time…now it really is for real."
"You know, Zara." I said irritably. "You're really starting to sound like a teenager."
"Err…Pan? In case you haven't noticed yet, I am a teenager!"
"Ok, ok." I held up my hands in protest. "Ease up a little, will you?"
"Sorry." She muttered, then changed her tone completely. "Anyway, aren't you going to ask me who it is?"
"No."
"Why not?" She demanded.
"Because I'm not particularly interested in knowing." I said truthfully. "And besides, I know that you're going to drag it out…take your time…blush a little and giggle girlishly a few times first before you tell me anything."
"Some friend you are." She scowled.
"Fine, then. Tell me who it is." I groaned, dying to have the matter over with.
Just as I has suspected, Zara decided to drag the whole matter out. She giggled and blushed, and toyed with her bedspread some more before getting up and pacing the room a little before she finally told me when I yawned loudly to show her I was bored.
"Mason Carter." She finally blurted out. "I'm in love with Mason Carter."
At first, the news came as a shock to me, especially since Mason was so incredibly unattractive, and the last person on earth who Zara would be likely to fall for. But when I thought about it, I realized just how much time Zara and Mason had spent together over the summer, and how much conversations they'd so avidly shared with one another. Over the course of the time I'd spent with them, I'd noticed that Zara had stopped swooning whenever Trunks' name was mentioned, and Mason had stopped trying to flirt with me and drive me to the point of insanity. Although I had never registered this as a sign of attraction. It was then that it occurred to me that I hardly knew anything about love.
"Don't ask me why." She laughed fondly to herself. "I don't really know how it happened. I mean, he isn't much to look at…but he's so funny, and decently intelligent, and we have so much in common. I guess I just…love being around him."
Most of the thoughts that had been circling around her head all this time were very similar my thoughts of Trunks. But Trunks was only a crush…it would go away, like Zara's crush on Trunks. It was only a phase…just a phase…I only felt this way about him because he was the first person I had ever kissed. He never loved me, and I never loved him. He had only been toying with me, and it had landed him in trouble. So now he despised me, and that was why he was being so bitter towards me…because the games he had played with me had ended up nearly costing him his career. Perhaps it would be the same with Mason and Zara, if she had been suffering from the same thoughts I had. I began to pray that it wouldn't be the same, as I watched her pace across the floor of her room. Zara mightn't be able to take heartbreak so well…maybe she would consider suicide for real this time.
"I think he might ask me out soon." Zara said with delight. "It seems to be going in that direction at the moment."
"Well good for you." I put on a false smile. "I'm happy for you, Zara."
"I wish there was something I could do about you and Trunks." Zara replied gravely. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright." I grinned. "It wasn't, as you said, for real anyway. It's just a phase…he realized that and he was toying with me to get what he wanted, but it ended up landing him in trouble. He never loved me."
Zara opened her mouth to refute, but we were interrupted when someone rapped fiercely on the door.
"Who is it?" She hollered.
"It's Walter, Madam." The butler replied. "I have been sent to call Miss Son down to the lobby. Mr Briefs is here to collect her."
Zara and I met eyes, and for one terrifying moment, I was almost certain I was going to vomit. I felt my entire body freeze with fear, while my companions eyes widened with excitement, and was about to sprint childishly towards her bed and duck under it, when she grasped my wrist and pulled me to the door.
"We'll be right there." She informed Walter.
"Very well." Walter replied, and we listened in silence to the sounds of his footsteps fading away downstairs.
Zara turned to me. "I'll go with you."
"No." I shook my head. "I don't need an escort. I'll be fine."
We were still for a moment, before she reached out to me and embraced me in a warm hug, smiling as we parted and leaning past me to open the door.
"Good luck." She winked as I stepped out into the corridor. She closed the door behind her when I reached the top of the staircase, and I could hear her playing one of her Marylin Manson CDs at top volume as I made my way down to the lobby as slowly as humanly possible.
(o)
"So why isn't Bulma here?" I asked Trunks as we left the White's home and moved out into the darkened street. It was raining heavily now, and the rainwater pelted onto the smooth surface of Trunks' car.
"She's too wrapped up in another one of her stupid soap operas." He said sullenly, not bothering to meet my eyes as I reached the car and threw open the door, climbing into the passenger seat. "So she sent me to get you instead."
I laughed meekly, trying to lighten the atmosphere between us. I couldn't understand why we could talk to freely to one another before, and now he hardly was able to say a word to me. Things just didn't feel right anymore…and it was all because of one kiss.
The drive back to Capsule corp. would be a long and uncomfortable one, especially without Trunks' usual background music when he drove. This was the first time I had been alone with Trunks since the day he kissed me, and already I noticed distinct changes within him. His driving was slightly jerky and uncontrolled, his kind features sharp and firm, his eyes cold and dark. The muscles of his biceps tightened with the effort it took for him to grip the steering wheel. Even his dishevelled, lavender hair looked violent against the harsh summer storm. Something had changed inside him…he wasn't soft anymore.
I turned to face the window, staring out at my own reflection in the glass and listening to the sound of the rain pattering upon the car roof, and the thunder and lighting roaring and cackling in the distance. In the window's reflection, I could see him sitting at the wheel, stiff in his navy blue tracksuit with white stripes down the sides of his legs and arms, the jacket unzipped down to his chest so that the top of his white shirt beneath it could be revealed. I couldn't stand the silence anymore. I needed to follow Bra and Mason's advice. We needed to talk.
"Trunks," I said, my voice no louder than a whisper as I turned to face him. "Trunks, we need to talk."
"What do you mean?" He frowned, keeping his eyes on the road. "We have nothing to talk about."
"No, we have more than enough to talk about." I shook my head violently.
"Oh yeah?" He said angrily, pulling up at a red light and turning round in his seat to face me. "Like what?"
"Like what happened almost two weeks ago." I replied, my voice firm and strong although I was shaking inside. "Why did you kiss me?"
Trunks sighed, steering the car away from the main road once he was permitted to drive again, and drove it up to the side of the curb. For one terrifying moment, I was afraid of what he planned to do, but he merely unbuckled his seatbelt and faced me properly. I saw that his eyes were now ablaze with fury.
"Don't deny that you didn't want me to do it." He scowled. "You think you're so tough…so tomboyish and strong. You think that you can handle anything, and you try to hide your emotions and make excuses for yourself to push your feelings below you. You think you are above human emotion, but you're not. You're like everyone else. You feel pain, suffering, hatred, jealously, sadness…love."
"That's not true." I replied, although I new that I was lying. He was right…I hated my emotions. They were what made me weak. No matter what anyone said, emotions were the single source of weakness. But this discussion was not about me. It was about him.
"At least I'm not afraid to feel." He continued. "At least I'm not afraid to express myself…I'm not afraid to be human."
"Yes you are!" I shouted, suddenly enraged myself. "You're so bloody afraid of yourself that you won't even find out who you really are! You just abide to everyone else's expectations of you, and you do what they want, just to please them. Sometimes it's not so good to be so unselfish. Sometimes you need to think about yourself, because otherwise you'll just be tearing yourself apart."
"Stop…doing that!!" He screamed, crying out in sudden frustration. It frightened me so much that I forgot to be angry with him, and backed into the corner of the car, whimpering to myself. I even forgot to be brave. I had never felt so weak, or so helpless…so lost. Everything I had said about him so far was true, and everything he had said about me was true, as much as I had tried to deny it, and as much as I had tried to push it all away and work my thoughts around it. But I didn't want it to be true…I didn't want anything to be true. I just wished that things could go back to the way they were.
"I know you're right. I know it's all true…but I don't want to believe it." He sighed angrily. "Before you came, everything was fine. I worked that terrible job for Bulma, and kept up with my training for Vegeta. Hell, I even helped out Bra and Uub when they needed volunteers with their community service work. I babysat you so your parents could have a break! I was unhappy…the only thing I had to look forward to was looking after you, but soon even that small thread of happiness was taken away from me when you started going to school. I loved making them proud…I wanted everyone to be happy. That's what we all had in mind all those years before you were born, when we made peace by defeating Majin Buu back when I was still a kid. We dreamed of a world of happiness…and I was going to make sure that we had it, even if it meant denying myself of my own wants and desires. But then you came along. You, with all your good morals and carefree attitude. You with your boyish good looks and dry sense of humour…your silly little charm and habits…that fire that burned inside of you. That fire that had always been there, even when you were a child. You made me remember what happiness was…what it was like to think not for others, but for yourself. You reminded me of things I hadn't thought or felt for years and years. You taught me to be me again. I was actually considering giving up on everyone else and being who I wanted to be. But then you kissed me…that's when I was brought back to earth. I remembered that these were just dreams…only dreams. I realized that I had just touched an underage girl, and was now risking losing my job or worse if it got out into the public, which was why I was forced to fire Amanda, one of my most trusted employees. I realized that it was too dangerous for me to ever see you again. So I had to avoid you…but even so there was no escaping you, even if we didn't live in the same house, you'd still haunt me. You'd be in my dreams. It's all ruined now, Pan. The happiness I worked so hard to build for everyone…that's all over. It all finished the day Elijah became ill. Someone will always be unhappy. My parents…my sister…my best friend…you…me. Worst of all, I've fallen in love with a sixteen year old!"
I was speechless, struggling to process and understand everything he had just told me. So many thoughts and emotions…so many dark secrets he'd kept locked away for so long had just erupted and come out in a flood is disjoined ideas and sentences. I could see from the look in his eyes that he feared he had said too much. But none of these things mattered. There was only one thing going through my mind at that time.
I've fallen in love with a sixteen year old…"D-Do you love me, Trunks?" I trembled, feeling tears prickle in the corners of my eyes again.
He stared at me, stunned, but said not a word. Eventually he turned with a heavy sigh and fastened his seatbelt, gripping the steering wheel and revving the engine. I did not blame him for not wanting to talk to me, and I did not expect him to. He had said more than enough. But even so, the flurry of emotions that overcame me were too great even for me to push back and hide. I wouldn't be able to last the trip home with him in the car, and I wasn't going to let him see me cry.
In one swift movement, I wrenched the door open and stepped out into the rain, running off the pavement and down the small garden path between two houses that led to the beach, the scent of the salt water my only guide in the darkened night. I could hear Trunks calling my name from the car behind me, but pretended not to over the loud roar of the approaching thunder and lighting. As I ran, I felt tears leak down my cheeks, and mix and blend with the rain that hammered on my back, drenching me from head to foot. I did not care, and I did not look back.
The beach was empty and wild, with the dark and murky waters crashing mercilessly on the sodden sand. In the distance, I could see streaks of lighting breaking through the rumbling clouds and crashing onto the small island not too far away from the mainland. I knew it was dangerous to be here, but I also knew that this was the only place where I could be alone. I sat down on a rock ledge out towards the ocean, listening to the many surrounding sounds as I stared avidly out to sea.
It was not a phase. It was not a crush. Trunks had not been toying with me and my emotions. It had all been real. Trunks was in love with me, the same as I was in love with him.
(o)
A/N: Thanks for reading, please review!
