The first thing he noticed walking into the entryway of his apartment was the hallway light which was on at 8:30 pm. Although he was pretty often in his own world, oblivious to a lot of outside stimuli, Goten did take care to turn off all electricity, make sure no appliances were running, and water was turned off. Chalk it up to living with a semi neurotic mother whose favorite pastime it seemed was passive-aggressively nagging about those things in his childhood home.
The prickling feeling that accompanied the alarm with the hallway light triggered a quick scan of energy in his persona space. Pleasantly surprised, he recognized the signature. The fact the rest of his place was quiet and dark, a slight wave of unease crept up.
"Trunks?" he called, confused while striding into the kitchen where he flicked on those lights as well. The next thing he noticed was the smell of a myriad of uncapped alcoholic beverages, with some of the evidence left strewn across the countertop. He frowned at the familiar sight that crept its way into his place, turning his pad into a veritable speakeasy.
He momentarily panicked as he hadn't heard any response to the call and searched out for the familiar ki. Thankfully it was close as Goten turned toward the signature and into the next room where he found the broken remains of his friend.
"Trunks?" He tried again and the head of the woeful man faced him from his place on the floor, a sea of bottles wading around him and streams of wetness down his face. This was somewhat new. Usually, Trunks was a happy drunk.
His eyes were blood-red as he blinked in slow recognition.
"Hey." He heard Trunks groan out.
Drawing his brows together cautiously, Goten sat down on the couch adjacent to him. "Hi. You know this is an inappropriate use of the key I gave you, right? You should have at least turned the lights on." He scolded lightly, taking a seat on the couch and assessing the situation before him. "What's going on?"
"Marron broke up with me." His miserable-looking friend said then took another swig from the long-necked bottle in his hand. The mention of her name made Goten's eye twitch. Fuck.
Transitioning from the lavish multi-bedroom apartment, private underground garage and doorman while also with his two best friends was an awkward adjustment. Not only did he have to downsize majorly after getting used to the swanky accommodations at a poor man's rent but the reasoning behind his departure grated so heavily on his psyche that he had genuinely considered quitting his job with Hercule and moving back home to Mt. Pauzu with his tail between his legs.
An unidentifiable force kept him in the city where he moved to a more run down side of town some would call 'eclectic' if they didn't have to live there themselves, in essentially a box where the bedroom and kitchen shared a wall with no friends or girlfriend. He didn't mind the size. In fact, the apartment was damn near charming if he squinted. He mostly took it as penance. He could probably never look Marron in the eye again without feeling immeasurable guilt.
It only took a week for Goten to provide Trunks with a key, for Trunks to come over to hang out, and for those hangouts to become less than PG friendly. Goten never disclosed why he left their little trio or inquired of what their casual heavy petting meant. He gathered the impressions that Trunks constantly skirted the line between faithful and cheating. When one doesn't say it out loud, is it really the latter? When it's only mutual touching and no further, is it really unfaithful? When he's able to leave without disclosing how much he means, it's just two friends being 'friendly', right? Goten stewed on it every time. Trunks never asked.
Goten made a face at the sad sack of man, head in his hands, and a drink between his knees.
At least his speech still sounds clear enough, Goten considered, nudging an empty green bottle on the floor with the toe of his shoe. Marron finally leaving the older demi Saiyan didn't come as a shock. Although he felt worse than ever knowing that he was probably the final straw. That conversation obviously didn't produce pretty results.
A squishy wet sound masked the sniffle as Trunks rubbed his tear stricken face pitifully in response.
Goten tried to swallow inaudibly. "Oh. That sucks. Is that why you're sitting here in the dark, crying and drinking?"
A loud sniff and a dramatic wipe of his nose, Trunks regarded him with a slighted sideways glance. "I'm not crying." He denied and turned away to covertly dry his face in his sleeve.
Goten rolled his eyes. No matter how despondent Trunks could get, he still maintained the level of emotional denial as only a son of Vegeta could.
"Okay. How long have you been," He wanted to say wallowing in forget-all juice but thought better of it. "sitting here?"
"What time is it?"
"Almost 9."
"Couple hours, I guess." Trunks responded, downing the remainder of the bottle and peered into the emptiness with dissatisfaction as if an alternate reason it was gone would present itself from within.
With a sigh, Goten grabbed the glass and placed it on the floor then slung his friend's arm over his shoulder.
"Great. Can you stand?" He asked without really waiting for a response that was most likely slow coming.
"Where we goin'?" Trunks asked with enough latency that they had made it round the corner to Goten's room.
"I'm taking you to a bed. You need to sleep this off."
"Don' wanna." Trunks groaned with difficulty and nearly went limp on purpose. Goten hooked his bicep around his inebriated friend's underarm and held onto his back, lifting with little effort. He figured Trunks was just being troublesome for show.
"She broke up… with me." He hiccuped, a disbelieving crack to his pitiful voice.
"I heard," Goten replied with all the sympathy he could muster.
"I love her." He muttered.
Goten tried not to feel the sting and instead bit his tongue. "I know." He mumbled.
A heavy head leaned on his shoulder as Goten carefully walked him to his room, placed him in a heap on his king-size bed and took off his shoes.
As he made to leave, he stopped just short of the door when Trunks let out a pained groan followed by a wet belch and hiccup that left Goten moderately concerned. He assessed the damage as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. It would probably be in Trunks' best interest to make sure he didn't wake up tomorrow in a pool of his own vomit.
Goten left for a moment and returned with a large plastic bowl, placed it on the floor on Trunks' side and slid onto the other end of the bed, making sure to stay on top of the comforter.
"What 're you doin'?" he heard Trunks whisper.
"Waiting. Don't want you to die of alcohol poisoning." He replied half-serious. Goten was pretty sure Trunks' knew his own Saiyan limits before he went too far. Wouldn't hurt to just be present. "There's a bucket on the floor if you need to puke."
Trunks seemed to appreciate it as he hummed and whispered a groggy, "thanks."
The bed creaked as Trunks sloshed around trying to find some level of comfort. He ultimately stopped after a few moments of hatching, succumbed to sleep while lying on his side, and facing Goten. Eyes adjusted to the dark, Goten watched the peaceful way the older halfling drifted off despite the spiraling self-destructive behavior he engaged in while awake.
He wished he could do something else besides try to reason with the most charming man alive. Goten, in his efforts, ended up doing more harm than good then subsequently forced to pick up the pieces once the machine of a man, so put together, hard-working and efficient, eventually fell apart from lack of self-care. Goten had seen the cracks under pressure so many times before. The magnifying lens of responsibility with work or his parent's expectations that Trunks had to seek out less than kosher ways to cope with it.
As the sound of nasally snoring became the only noises from his uninvited visitor, Goten lay with an arm under his head and stared up at the ceiling wondering how long he had to wait. He had been exhausted since the day began and closed his eyes without thinking, listening to the steady breath at his side.
The break up was just another thing to add to the ever-growing pile of problems the Heir tried to fix with a bottle. Or a woman. Or a car. Or a cruise. Everything except talking about it. Or Heaven forbid, ask for help. Goten wanted to be that help. He wouldn't push too hard though if Trunks pushed back. Which he did.
He woke suddenly, the strange feeling that perhaps he had overslept on a workday. With gradual realization that it was sometime early Saturday morning, the shades only hinting at daylight through the windows, did he then make the connection of the unfamiliar feeling. He must have dozed off himself with Trunks at the other side of the bed, the older man's back to him as he remained motionless to Goten's waking movements.
Trunks was typically a heavy mover in his sleep. Had been since they were kids. More often than not while living at the other apartment, Goten would hear the telltale sign of Trunks falling out of bed, Marron repeating his name, muffled by a thin wall, and eventually the rousing sound of Trunks getting up on the creaking bed and silence returning.
This morning, Goten did find it odd and somewhat disheartening that Trunks must have been so devastated, or drunk, to stay in a pitiful fetal position all night. Or so Goten thought as he rubbed his eye sockets with the heels of his hand and made to get up.
"I'm awake. I already puked." Trunks croaked as he turned over, his short purple hair messy with bed head. "It's real, isn't it?"
Goten sat up and turned to see Trunks' gloomy face peered back, the redness of drink and a broken heart still present in his gaze.
Some sentinel he was. Goten felt like a heel realizing Trunks had already gotten up, vomited, brushed his teeth, from the minty scent he could now smell, and returned to bed all in the time Goten slept like the dead.
"What's real?" Goten asked. Guess it's better to play the supportive friend while awake.
"That we broke up."
"That's what you told me. Although to be fair, you guys break up at least once every 3 months for one thing or another." He put forth as a flimsy consolation.
"Not this time. She knows." Trunks said pensively into his pillow as his gaze drifted off. "She said I don't care for her as much as-" He paused and pulled back like the next words were incriminating. As if seeing him for the first time in his newly sobered state, Trunks peered at Goten with odd fixation.
Curious of what he would have said but didn't, Goten knew better than to pry. Trunks would divulge on his own time, despite the desire to know and the sneaking suspicion the conversation was about him.
The older man's gaze stayed glued to his own. Goten felt vulnerable as the alarms went off while staring into those analyzing eyes, the workings behind them almost visible. He broke eye contact and swung a leg over the side of the mattress to avoid it further.
Before a toe could touch the floor, a hand reached out and latched on his wrist, roughly at first but slackened.
"Stay." Trunks requested in a whisper. "Please?"
Goten made the mistake of not following through. Leaving the room entirely. Instead, against vastly better judgment, he turned his gaze back to the man in his bed.
The manner of which Trunks' eyes searched his, the small part of his lips, the way his violet hair rested softly against his cheekbone, Goten wanting nothing more than to leave rather than have his feelings messed with like so many other times. The knotting in the pit of his stomach knew with absolute certainty what was unsaid between them. Even knowing full well he could just be the rebound for the failed relationship, he obliged as he lay back down against the pillows. He could not say no to this man.
He watched Trunks make the cautious crawl over, hover near his face as if weighing heavy choices in that calculating brain of his, then pressed his lips to Goten's slow and deliberate.
Goten closed his eyes and held still.
They had never talked about the accidental intimacy all those years ago. Feeling pretty foolish after that kiss, and other things, he fled in embarrassment rather than wait and find out it was a mistake. Meeting up after years of no contact and then living together actually helped him to realize Trunks cared as more than just a friend and, in some crooked way, that knowledge made up for the humiliation he felt the first time.
The number of occasions where it appeared something more would happen but never did was more numerous than he'd like to admit. Under Marron's watchful eye, Trunks had to hide the brush of a hand. A lingering look. The inescapable pull of a charming smirk. Played it off like it was harmless fun. Up until then, they hadn't done anything more than mutual touching and making out.
It always seemed to happen in the same way. Trunks would initiate, Goten would give and Trunks would take; the silly games they played were never enough to deny this man. No. He would always surrender with his whole self to the temptation of the purple-haired halfling, regardless of denial and culpability, if only for an ounce of affection.
As Trunks pulled back agonizingly slow with half-lidded eyes, Goten licked his lips subconsciously before diving in for more, his whole being magnetically pulled into the older man's arms.
In the span of running his hands into the nape of Trunks' neck and Trunks pressing himself into Goten's hips, a final rationalizing notion that fooling around would lead to being taken advantage of, again, fired like a warning signal. But as Trunks dipped a hand down the front of the younger man's rising sweatpants, those thoughts disappeared and were replaced by baser instincts taking over his limited logical brain. It felt fucking fantastic just like every other time. Even if he knew deep down it was a fantastically bad choice.
"Can I stay with you? Just for a little bit? My place is too big…. And empty." Trunks requested as he traced Goten's bare abdominals with a single finger absentmindedly.
It took all of ten seconds to come up with the most objective answer he could formulate while naked and blissfully satisfied. "Sure. That's fine."
"Cool. I'll just stay on the couch. It'll only be for a couple days."
Neither statement held any truth, even from the very beginning.