It didn't take long for 17 to come home. The strong metal door that acted as the lab's entrance opened with a whirr of mechanical motors, and he stepped in, flipping his sleek black hair over his shoulder in spite as the door closed behind him.
"Where were you last night?" he demanded casually, coming down the hall and leaning against the door frame of the misty washroom. "_And_ early this morning?" His eyes were looking at me intently, as though he wanted an answer right away, though his voice made it sound like he wouldn't have objected if I had refused to tell him. He was looking as though he had something to tell, though I regarded it as mere curiousity as he folded his arms.
"That doesn't concern you." I answered sharply, now gathering my clothes in my damp arms, pulling the towel wrapped around my body closer. A few strands of my wet hair fell into my eyes, and 17 smirked, chuckling to himself.
"It's fine, then, if you'd dont want to share," he said, waving it off. "Perhaps I don't want to share either."
"Mmm," I replied, not paying attention to his words as I closed the door to my room, letting the towel fall to the floor as I climbed back into my clothes, feeling the warm sweater caress my torso again, running my hands down the sleeves, almost fondly. Pulling on the jeans and placing the belt on my waist, I plucked the abandoned towel from the floor, rubbing it against my hair, trying to quicken the drying process. I ventured down the hall, coming to a stop when I reached 17, who was now sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television. He seemed bored and relaxed, his eyes slightly dazed as he watched the screen. "What were you babbling about earlier?" I asked, my interest sparked now that I had nothing better to do than listen to his voice.
17 looked up and smirked, watching me dry my hair. "Nothing of interest." he said, almost sarcastically, and I scowled.
"You're lying. You're lying and you know it." I tossed my towel over his head, walking to one of the windows that overlooked the cliff. My brother pulled my towel from his head quickly, pressing his face to it and inhaling deeply.
"You use too much body lotion with your baths," he remarked, tossing the towel so it rested against the opposite arm of the couch. He caught my eye, grinning. "Perhaps you were with a boy last night?"
Once more, a scowl played across my face. "Please. This conversation is both overstated and pathetic." I growled, leaning my elbows against the metal windowsill. "No human alive is worthy enough."
"Ah, but this time _you're_ lying, 18. And you know it," he added, mocking me.
I looked over quickly, my eyes searching his. But he had only been joking... He didn't seem to notice my abrupt lack of disinterest. In fact, he had returned to his television program. I grumbled to myself, forcing my eyes to go back to the window. I wasn't seeing any of the scenery, though--I felt my heart beating against my chest. I was only fooling myself, however... 17 didn't know anything about my feelings for Trunks. That is, if they truly were feelings...
"Anyway," I heard my brother speak up as a commercial came on, "I forgot what we were talking about."
"You were going to tell me what you were doing last night." I reminded him grumpily. I sighed, tucking a wisp of hair behind my ear, folding my arms across my front and turning to look at him. "What is it you so despiratly needed to let out?"
"Hmph." 17 flicked the television off, his program having ended. "While I was out looking for you, I met up with that punk again. The lavendar haired one."
I feigned an unconcerned yet amused look. "Is that so?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Did you manage to do him damage? Or did you slip up yet again, and let him get away?"
My brother laughed, folding his hands behind his head as he leaned back, his dark hair falling over his shoulders. "Nah, just had some fun making him chase after me. He's too slow; it only lasted for a few minutes until I got bored. He's really starting to lose his edge." He stretched, kicking off his sneakers.
"Of course." I replied, trying my best to conceal my relief. So Trunks hadn't been hurt... Suddenly realizing what I was thinking, I shook the idea from my head and glowered at 17. "Why didn't you finish him off?"
He shrugged, playing with the orange bandana around his neck. "I wanted to test him, see if he'd gotten any better at fighting. Jesus, the punk's probably our physical age, you'd think he wouldn't have trouble keeping up with me after all this time." 17 laughed at his own remark, shaking his head.
"So the only reason you pestered me was to get me to listen to your foolish stories of how you play with your enemies?" I frowned. "Why take the time? It doesn't matter to me."
"Because you've taken interest in the kid." 17 answered, sounding as though it was common knowledge.
"What?" I stared at him, feeling the blood drain from my face.
He looked at me, his cold eyes boring into mine. "I'm your brother, 18." he replied, as though that was all I needed to know.
There was nothing to counter the statement. His reply was so irrelevant to the answer I had wanted that I disregarded in frustration.
"I let him live for the same reasons you do--in hopes for him becoming a challenge someday. He's no more interesting to me than the humans we killed last week." I made to walk into the other room, intending to give the impression that the conversation was over.
"I'll kill him next time." 17 called after me, picking at one of his finger nails unconcernedly. I paused as I entered the hall, trying to tell if he was being serious.
"Don't bother."
"Where were you last night?" he demanded casually, coming down the hall and leaning against the door frame of the misty washroom. "_And_ early this morning?" His eyes were looking at me intently, as though he wanted an answer right away, though his voice made it sound like he wouldn't have objected if I had refused to tell him. He was looking as though he had something to tell, though I regarded it as mere curiousity as he folded his arms.
"That doesn't concern you." I answered sharply, now gathering my clothes in my damp arms, pulling the towel wrapped around my body closer. A few strands of my wet hair fell into my eyes, and 17 smirked, chuckling to himself.
"It's fine, then, if you'd dont want to share," he said, waving it off. "Perhaps I don't want to share either."
"Mmm," I replied, not paying attention to his words as I closed the door to my room, letting the towel fall to the floor as I climbed back into my clothes, feeling the warm sweater caress my torso again, running my hands down the sleeves, almost fondly. Pulling on the jeans and placing the belt on my waist, I plucked the abandoned towel from the floor, rubbing it against my hair, trying to quicken the drying process. I ventured down the hall, coming to a stop when I reached 17, who was now sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television. He seemed bored and relaxed, his eyes slightly dazed as he watched the screen. "What were you babbling about earlier?" I asked, my interest sparked now that I had nothing better to do than listen to his voice.
17 looked up and smirked, watching me dry my hair. "Nothing of interest." he said, almost sarcastically, and I scowled.
"You're lying. You're lying and you know it." I tossed my towel over his head, walking to one of the windows that overlooked the cliff. My brother pulled my towel from his head quickly, pressing his face to it and inhaling deeply.
"You use too much body lotion with your baths," he remarked, tossing the towel so it rested against the opposite arm of the couch. He caught my eye, grinning. "Perhaps you were with a boy last night?"
Once more, a scowl played across my face. "Please. This conversation is both overstated and pathetic." I growled, leaning my elbows against the metal windowsill. "No human alive is worthy enough."
"Ah, but this time _you're_ lying, 18. And you know it," he added, mocking me.
I looked over quickly, my eyes searching his. But he had only been joking... He didn't seem to notice my abrupt lack of disinterest. In fact, he had returned to his television program. I grumbled to myself, forcing my eyes to go back to the window. I wasn't seeing any of the scenery, though--I felt my heart beating against my chest. I was only fooling myself, however... 17 didn't know anything about my feelings for Trunks. That is, if they truly were feelings...
"Anyway," I heard my brother speak up as a commercial came on, "I forgot what we were talking about."
"You were going to tell me what you were doing last night." I reminded him grumpily. I sighed, tucking a wisp of hair behind my ear, folding my arms across my front and turning to look at him. "What is it you so despiratly needed to let out?"
"Hmph." 17 flicked the television off, his program having ended. "While I was out looking for you, I met up with that punk again. The lavendar haired one."
I feigned an unconcerned yet amused look. "Is that so?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Did you manage to do him damage? Or did you slip up yet again, and let him get away?"
My brother laughed, folding his hands behind his head as he leaned back, his dark hair falling over his shoulders. "Nah, just had some fun making him chase after me. He's too slow; it only lasted for a few minutes until I got bored. He's really starting to lose his edge." He stretched, kicking off his sneakers.
"Of course." I replied, trying my best to conceal my relief. So Trunks hadn't been hurt... Suddenly realizing what I was thinking, I shook the idea from my head and glowered at 17. "Why didn't you finish him off?"
He shrugged, playing with the orange bandana around his neck. "I wanted to test him, see if he'd gotten any better at fighting. Jesus, the punk's probably our physical age, you'd think he wouldn't have trouble keeping up with me after all this time." 17 laughed at his own remark, shaking his head.
"So the only reason you pestered me was to get me to listen to your foolish stories of how you play with your enemies?" I frowned. "Why take the time? It doesn't matter to me."
"Because you've taken interest in the kid." 17 answered, sounding as though it was common knowledge.
"What?" I stared at him, feeling the blood drain from my face.
He looked at me, his cold eyes boring into mine. "I'm your brother, 18." he replied, as though that was all I needed to know.
There was nothing to counter the statement. His reply was so irrelevant to the answer I had wanted that I disregarded in frustration.
"I let him live for the same reasons you do--in hopes for him becoming a challenge someday. He's no more interesting to me than the humans we killed last week." I made to walk into the other room, intending to give the impression that the conversation was over.
"I'll kill him next time." 17 called after me, picking at one of his finger nails unconcernedly. I paused as I entered the hall, trying to tell if he was being serious.
"Don't bother."