Chapter 0
The time here has been...rough. To say the least. Everyone knows but they look at me like I haven't done anything wrong. Their abject acceptance makes it so much worse.
Being in the same home as you, the same paths you used to run, the river we used to play in. It's almost annoying how much I can feel your presence.
I guess here is better than the alternative.
I love you.
I always have.
I've been inside your head. Being in the same body more than once, fighting and practically dying. We went through so much as kids. More than we should have. I wouldn't take any of it back.
You were always there for me. Through everything. I know I've been selfish. I'm sorry about the accident.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I hope you can forgive me.
Chapter 1
It had been unusually cool for most of the summer in West City, lousy with rainfall. The end to a 5-year drought. Guess complaining about the weather was about the biggest event to find unpleasant enough within those 5 years.
In the past, the horrors that rocked the little planet- Cell, the Androids, the Red Ribbon Army- subsided for a while like it tended to do with ebbs and flows before the next big threat to humanity struck. The last memorable event of note, Buu, ended with the pink monster subdued, and the world's protectors taking to their own corners, meeting up on the rare occasion while the world rested in peaceful slumber.
Some, like the patriarchal Saiyans, maintained their vigilance. They cited the inability to sit still from the countless battles to be won raging in their minds as the physical realm maintained its surface serenity. Trunks admired his father and Goku for that. The pure dedication and regimancy of a Saiyan warrior passed down through their unique genetic code. And while the younger, more laidback of the two scratched the itch for blood every once in a while, Trunks' father, Vegeta, chose every day, well mostly every day, to devote his time in keeping his skills perfect, disciplined and ready for the next time the Earth faced a peril, for it always did at some point. As the 19-year-old son to one of the Earth's greatest defenders, Trunks was at least grateful his dad only nagged him every other day to get his shit together.
"Hey, Mom? Where's the rest of the pizza?" Trunks asked, pilfering through several half-empty boxes piled on the counter. There were 6 boxes. He had expected at least 3 for himself and his company.
"Since when do you need more than this?" Vegeta mocked, taking bites from two slices on top of each other, loaded with proteins and cheese. After a trying day within his precious gravity room, Vegeta had the snarky smirk knowing he'd earned his reward. "I don't see you making any attempt at working off all these calories."
Trunks pulled a similar face in response. "Just because I don't live at the gym doesn't mean I'm not still Saiyan, old man. I'm growing." He teased back, transferring wayward slices from various boxes into one. A short, blue-haired head ducked under one of his arms to transfer a couple of slices into her mouth. "Bulla!"
"At this rate, you're growing more out than up." He remarked, watching his five-year-old daughter flee the kitchen with a giggle.
"I could still kick your ass." Trunks muttered slyly.
"Is that a challenge, boy?"
"Stop, both of you. I'll order more. Gods, the testosterone in this house," Bulma chided, rubbing her husband on the back like soothing a puffed-up cat. "Why do you need so much anyway?"
"Goten's coming over." He declared rather jovially.
Vegeta scoffed. "Ah, the other half to a full idiot. I don't understand why you willingly choose to fraternize with Kakarot's brat so much. You are aware we are in times of peace? We don't need to have the clown's offspring hover around our space so frequently."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. He's beneath me. He's dim. He squanders his abilities. I get it. He's also my best friend, Dad. At some point, you're going to have to accept that."
"Is he still related to a third class imbecile?"
"The jokes never get old. I'll be in my room if you need me."
Shaking his head, he collected his loot and made to exit as he heard Vegeta muttering something about the consequences of feeding stray animals.
He felt his Mom catch him at the crook of his arm. "Don't take it too seriously, honey. Your Dad loves Goten." She whispered with a smile.
He couldn't help the snort that escaped. "I don't think that's true. But I do know insults are a way for Dad to express his affection. It's okay, Mom, really." He chuckled.
He reassured her with a soft pat in her hand before heading upstairs and tidying up his room somewhat, clearing away dirty dishes and stray clothing littering the floor. He made sure to unlock his window and pull it wide. It had been years and years since Bulma insisted Goten use the front door like any member of the family. Growing up, though, it just seemed possibly more fun for Goten to use the window like when they were kids. The world may have changed since they were in their youth fighting for their lives against evil forces but nothing had really changed the foundation of their friendship.
"So," Goten began casually. The older half Saiyan cocked a lilac eyebrow at the telltale subtly of the tone, noting the actual curiosity hidden underneath. It was the first thing the younger teen had said since he entered Trunks's room in over an hour.
This outta be good, Trunks thought as he sat up a little straighter on the dark blue sofa at one end of his large room facing the television. He placed his phone down gently beside him and waited.
Seated on the floor with his back against the couch, Goten's attention was partially focused on the tv screen, a racing game on the display, the controller in his hands moving subconsciously to the turns. He let his jaw hang open as the images flickered across his face before continuing his train of thought.
"I heard that you're dating Marron." The younger teen said with fake disinterest. His eyes were glued to the screen but for the number of times his car veered off track, Trunks could tell his attention was elsewhere.
"Who told you?" Trunks queried airily.
"No one," Goten replied in haste.
Trunks smirked at how terribly Goten tried to lie. "Was it your Mom? I'll bet it was your Mom."
With a groaning sigh, the younger teen paused the game after placing last. "I overheard. It's true, then?"
"Yup. A month." He pulled up his phone and displayed a risque picture of their childhood friend in a tee shirt and black underwear.
"Wow," Goten said while raising an eyebrow, impressed.
Holding out the phone a minute longer, he observed Goten's face drop somewhat in thought. "Why didn't you tell me?" He finally asked.
Adjusting himself back onto the flat cushions of the couch, Trunks shrugged his shoulders while flicking through more private images of the blonde. "Am I supposed to tell you everything?"
"No," Goten mumbled, dejected. "But having a girlfriend seems like information I would think friends share."
"I didn't think we were that close." Trunks teased, ruffling the mop of hair he could reach.
Goten reciprocated by punching the older teen in the arm with a grin. "Aw, shut up."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Trunks typing out a text and scrolling through photos while Goten paused and unpaused the game intermittently, his gaze distant. "A month's a long time." He mused aloud.
"Yup."
He finally placed the controller on the floor, gingerly, and turned his head to stare at the wall just to the left of Trunks' head, avoiding eye contact. "You guys hook up yet?" He blurted quickly then turned a shade of pink.
With an upturn of his mouth, Trunks moved his face so it obstructed Goten's view of the wall. "Again, I didn't think we were that close." He grinned as he placed his hands salaciously through Goten's hair. "Yea, man. All the time. She can't keep her hands off me." Trunks pulled hard, then let go with an obnoxious chortle.
"Such a liar."
The older teen continued to laugh. "No. Not yet. Everything else though." He added with a sly smirk.
Goten smiled to himself while picking at his cuticles. "Nice. She's a cool chick. Honestly, I didn't think either of us would date her. She's like a sister to me."
"Not to me. She's hot."
"Yea. Bet 18's pissed. You're not really the best influence."
Trunks snorted wryly. That was true. And everyone in their circle knew it. "They'd be surprised 'bout her though. Their daughter's not so innocent. The things she does." He hummed wistfully.
Goten's voice became low and contemplative. "You know, my dad told me Krillin kinda wanted her to be with me when we all grew up. Our dads being best friends and all." He said sincerely, without malice.
Trunks sat up and rested his head in his palm, elbow propped up on the cushion. He had considered something similar when she first asked him on a date.
Ever since the three of them were kids, Marron had been a little on the sweet side, not the type of girl Trunks typically found interest in. He preferred ones that could handle a little danger every once in a while. Girls that rode motorcycles and shoved bottles of whiskey down the front of his pants in liquor stores while knowing full well he was underage and could afford it. Those types, however, he found were often flighty or reckless, more so than he wanted. Goten, on the other hand, picked girls that were considered part of the 'populars', where the only 'bad' things they did were ditching school to hang out at the mall or shoplift eyeliner and preserve their fleeting high school reputations. Girls like Valese. Or Marron.
Trunks regarded his best friend, noting the slight smile at the corner of his mouth. "But I'm glad she's with you. You guys make a nice-looking couple." He said hushed. Trunks heard him swallow thickly.
It was then Goten turned completely and faced him, honest and trusting visage bare. Trunks couldn't help feeling somewhat exposed at the odd longing in his tone. "You're both so.. you know.. attractive."
Trunks furrowed his brows, perplexed, as he watched the dark eyes that stared back blinked slowly, once. A subtle cue.
"What are you getting at?" Trunks replied, trying to process the odd signal and noting the short distance between them.
"You and her. Look good together. Unlike me. You …" He trailed off.
How could Goten think he wasn't worthy of someone like Marron. Goten blinked twice. With his angular jawline, unruly soft hair, long lashes that framed warm and welcoming eyes. By the third time, the blush appeared and Trunks' gaze fell to his lips.
On impulse, he closed his eyes as he pressed his own lips tentatively to his friend's.
Unlike kissing Marron, his friend's mouth lacked the plump smoothness of lipgloss. The wetting before being pressed together. Instead, they were slightly rough, a hint of upper lip stubble and tense from the foreign contact. Only their lips touched, the rest of their bodies stayed separated, alert and unsure of what was too far.
As they broke apart at a distance of a few inches, Trunks observed Goten exhale through his nose roughly, eyes wide. Inside, alarm prickled across his skin, worrying if he misread the signals. Until Goten smashed his mouth to his impassioned, running his hands into the back of Trunks' hair and holding his face as close as possible while planting hot, breathy kisses everywhere he could reach.
Initially surprised at his fervor, Trunks responded by grasping the front of the younger man's shirt and closing the distance of their chests.
For as long as he could remember, Trunks had always felt a sense of possessiveness, a protective barrier, between himself and anything that had the potential to harm his best friend. He figured for years, the feeling was due to being older and regarding the younger as a brother he was hellbound to defend. As they aged, he noticed more and more the subtle mannerisms he adored from the littlest Son, the clench of fists behind his back when he didn't want to show his temper, his gentle approach to wild animals to assuage their fear of man, the crinkle at his eyes when he laughed until he cried. Trunks filed these moments away to return to when he felt lonely and needed solace.
Lost in the moment, Trunks felt the pressure at the front of his jeans, panicked, then pulled away panting and embarrassed only to be taken aback again as Goten grinned and laughed lightly.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." He said as he wiped his mouth across his sleeve.
Dumbfounded, Trunks couldn't find the words in response.
The years in each other's shadow morphed into attraction of which Trunks believed was only one-sided. To find out Goten felt some similar desire as well was mind-boggling. The next words out of his mouth nearly shattered his resolve.
"Can I touch you?" Goten asked, dark eyes searching for approval while flitting to Trunks' waist and the erection that hadn't gone down.
A deep crimson formed across his face as he managed to whisper 'yes' which came out more warily guarded than he liked.
Brought up to hold pride and valor above all else made Trunks uneasy in any situation resembling vulnerability, which could turn to humiliation. His trust in Goten was absolute, yet it did mean he would still be cautious in uncomfortable situations. Having his friend unbutton his jeans, drag the zipper down noisily and place his bare hand on Trunks' pubic bone before disappearing down the front of his boxers, all while maintaining eye contact, was tremendously uncomfortable. That is, until strong fingers wrapped themselves around his dick with unabashed firmness.
His eyes rolled to the back of his head, mouth hung agape, as the hand gripped and tugged experimentally at first, then at a steady, luxuriant pace once saliva lubricated the surface of his friend's pale palm. He had almost forgotten who it was that held him with such delicious force, akin to his own hand, until a husky voice cut through the rhythmic sound of his own heavy breathing.
"Is this okay?" The query made Trunks flinch. It was identical in tone to the curious inquiry she would ask when her hands gripped him too lightly, unpracticed, unsure. As Marron was a willing participant, she lacked the familiar organ. Trunks realized the perfect pace and grip was from his friend's own personal experience. He didn't want to imagine Goten that way. He didn't want to compare techniques, despite one being vastly superior.
"Don't talk." Trunks whispered without thinking. He knitted his brows over his still shut eyes as he felt the pace begin to slow. "Keep going." He directed.
The buildup of sensitivity loomed and for a fraction of a second, he felt wrong. Was this cheating? It didn't mean anything, he was sure. However if the shoe, or hand, was on the other foot, he'd definitely call it cheating. It didn't feel like cheating. It felt fucking wonderful. So why did he keep his eyes closed?
Trunks arched his back as the twinge of imminent pleasure tickled at the base. He found his voice. "Stop. Stop." He uttered between his teeth.
Warm hands let go as he turned to his side and came into the couch cushion with a groan. Rolling back over, he viewed Goten through hair that had fallen over his flushed face. His friend had returned to his previous position, his back to the couch again, only this time, he was staring at his hands, opening and closing them, slow and silent.
The heat in Trunks' face burned with both satisfaction and guilt. He cleared his throat as he pulled up his pants awkwardly.
"I have a girlfriend," was all that came out in the stillness.
"I know."
"This went too far." Trunks muttered, sitting up and placing his head in his hands. What would he tell her? What would she think? How the fuck did this happen? "I have to go to the bathroom." He said, getting up suddenly and closing the door with a loud click behind him.
After cleaning up what he considered evidence, he ran the faucet and splashed water on his face. The sound of his bedroom door on the outside distinctly opening then closing informed him of Goten's departure.
It was nothing. It meant nothing. I have a girlfriend. A girlfriend. Nothing happened, he concluded with a stern look at himself in the mirror above the sink. As he trudged back into his room with heavy steps, the smell of his spent permeated the space, churning his stomach into knots. Trunks picked up the phone off the couch with a grimace and dialed.
"Hey, babe." He heard her say across the line, cheerful and unaware.
"Hey. I want to see you." Trunks responded monotonously.
"Okay. Well, you can come to my house. My parents are gone for the next two days." Her voice lilting in hinted excitement.
"Great. Do you need me to bring anything?" He picked up a throw pillow and covered the wet spot on the couch. "Protection?" He added, turning his back to his shame.
"Uh, sure," Marron replied, a halt to her voice. "You want to?" She implied tentatively.
"Yea. I'll be there in an hour, okay?"
"Okay. See you soon, baby."
He hung up, took a long breath and threw open the top drawer of his bureau. Digging around, he retrieved an unopened box of condoms, packed a few items of clothing into a duffel, tossed the box inside. Saying goodbye to his mom, Trunks took off towards Marron's, hellbent on forgetting the feel of his hands with the feel of himself between her legs.