Disclaimers: Same as always -- I don't own any part of Dragonball Z, including but not limited to its characters. Think that's changed in the last week?
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Without putting any thought into my actions, my body naturally makes its way from the gym (where the pool is) to Trunks's suite. I walk past his suitemates in the common room without saying a word, enter his room without knocking and see... that no one is there. I call his cell phone again. Four rings, "'Sup. This is ...," click. I walk back out the same way, stopping in the common room.
"Where's Trunks?" I ask.
"He's sick. He went back to his house."
"Sick? What kinda sick?"
"I dunno."
I leave without saying anything else and run down the stairs. How sick is he? Is he going to be okay? Is he going to die? Please don't die, Trunks. Please ... don't.
I need to stop being so ridiculous. He's not going to die. He probably has the flu or a cold or a sniffle or something. Why did he go back home, though? I shouldn't make such a big deal out of this. Trunks will be fine. He has to be fine. He's Trunks. Nothing can detract from his perfection.
As my thoughts wander, I find my feet moving me along the twenty-minute walking path toward Capsule Corp. I continue the journey. I have to find out what's wrong with Trunks.
When I arrive, I knock on the large front door. From the speaker to the right comes a woman's voice, like an older version of Trunks's sister. "Who is it?"
"Son Goten."
"Oh, Goten! Come in." I've never met her but she seems to know my name. That's good, I suppose.
The door opens and a woman who looks strikingly like Bra (but is old enough to be Trunks's mom,... that's probably it, she's his mom) greets me with a big smile. "So you're this Goten I've heard so much about!" she begins, walking down the grand hall as I follow.
"Heard so much about?" My cheeks become tinged with pink without even giving much thought to the statement.
"Oh, yeah, Trunks talks about you all the time. It's so good to see him with a good friend, after he broke up with Pan, that is."
"Oh, I see." He talks about me? An uncontrollable grin plants itself on my face.
"Yep. Oh, did you come to see him?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Aren't you sweet! Oh, Trunks could use a sweet friend like you. Everybody could. I'm so glad that you found each other. It's your first time out in the big world, and you gotta stick together to make it through."
I nod as she talks. When we arrive at a staircase, she says, "Trunks's room is up these stairs, third door on your right. I'm sure he'll be overjoyed to see you!"
"Thank you, Mrs. Briefs."
"Mrs. Briefs! Ha, call me 'Mom.'"
"I'm sorry, what?"
She then walks off, saying "Third door on your right."
O...kay?
I make my way upstairs, and to the room. This is the first time I've been in Trunks's room, actually. All the other times I've been here we hung out in the living room, or that one time in the TV room.
"...Trunks?"
No response.
"Trunks, are you there?'
I hear a small wisp of air call out to me from inside the room and open the door entirely. Trunks is lying in bed, his hair as perfect as ever, with his head turned toward the door.
"Trunks! What's up?"
He points toward his throat and then shrugs his shoulders in exaggerated helplessness.
"Sore throat?"
Trunks shakes his head and then grabs the notepad and pen next to his bed, scribbling something quickly, and then shows it to me. It says "Laringitis."
"Oh! You lost your voice?"
Trunks nods.
"You know, it's spelled with a 'y.' L-A-R-Y-N..."
Trunks rolls his eyes and then writes something more on the paper. Turning it back to me, it says "Shut up, I'm sick!" followed by a smiley face.
I chuckle softly. "Do you want anything, Trunks?"
Trunks shakes his head.
"Are you sure? It's no trouble."
His pupils travel slowly around his eyes, resting in the lower left corners before shooting back at me, and then at the notepad, on which he writes, "soup."
"Soup? What kind of soup?"
He then imitates a chicken, complete with wing flapping and beak jabbing.
I laugh aloud. "Chicken soup, all right."
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I rush downstairs and ask "Mom" for some chicken soup.
"Oh, are you taking him his dinner? Aw..." she says smiling and walks over to muss my hair.
"You're such a sweet boy, Goten. Be careful, now, it's hot," she warns, handing me the silver tray with the bowl of soup on it.
I walk upstairs, carefully, and as I pass Bra's room (the "first door on the right"), Bra calls me.
"Yeah?"
"Hey, Goten, can you come in here for a minute?"
"Umm... I kinda have to take this to Trunks."
"Just come in, it'll only take a minute."
I obey.
"What's up, Bra?"
"Oh, nothing, I just thought we should hang out." She closes the door behind herself with me in the room. As soon as the door clicks, she asks, "Have you thought about what I said?"
"What you-- you mean about me and Trunks? Listen, I know it's not going to work out. You don't have to worry about that."
"Do you still like him?"
"Yeah, he's a good friend."
"Are you still...," she breaks eye contact, "...attracted to him?"
"Well,... yes, I am, but..."
"But you shouldn't be, Goten! He's straight. He is NOT. INTERESTED," she exclaims, punctuating the last two words with her scolding finger.
"I know. I know, and I'm sorry. But you can't help who you're attracted to."
"Isn't that the truth," she mutters.
"What?"
"Oh,... nothing."
"Hmm. Well, I should take this to Trunks..."
"Listen, Goten... I don't want you to get hurt, okay?"
I nod slightly.
"Okay!" she continues.
"Okay, okay! I won't do anything stupid."
"Please don't." She lies down on her bed and looks into her pillow. Without looking back, she finishes, "You are free to go."
I slowly step out of her room and grab the tray I left outside the door. Making the few steps to Trunks's room, I proceed to kick open his door and shout "Sou-oup!"
He smiles and looks up, as he sits up and I walk over and rest the tray on his lap.
He has a spoonful and then writes a note that simply says "THX."
"Thix?" I ask jokingly. He playfully punches me in the arm.
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Trunks scrapes together the last little bit of broth he can handle and then drops the spoon in such a way almost certainly designed to make the most noise possible.
"So Trunks, how have things been going? I haven't seen you for a couple of days. Anything exciting happen?"
He scribbles, "Just me getting sick."
"Yeah, yeah. Hey, your mom was acting kinda weird around me when I came in."
He shrugs, writing "That's my mom for you."
"Yeah," I say, rocking the back of the plastic chair I'm sitting in back and forth to listen to the squeak. I take in the sight of Trunks, in his room, in his bed, as much as I can.
Trunks looks over and I quickly look away. He writes, "Sorry I'm being so boring."
"No, not at all!"
He smiles at me and turns his head toward me.
A flash of intense blue breaks from Trunks's eyes as he sits up. He motions for me to go to the door and to close it. I obey.
"Do you want to know a secret?" he writes.
I say, "Yeah!" I would normally just nod but I want to take advantage of the fact that I can speak.
"I like someone," followed by a heart.
My eyes widen.
"I'll tell you on the next piece of paper but as soon as you see it, you have to rip it up."
I nod slowly. Trunks...
He writes something on the pad, obscured from my view.
With hands trembling, he then tears the paper out and hands it to me.
I look down, read the name, close my eyes, and rip it into a million pieces, letting them float onto the ground.
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