Charismatic Beauty: Lol thank you. Well, this wasn't soon but here you go!

polkadotpublicity: I'm glad you can relate to (technically) my girls! Trying to be fair with most. Thank you!

Pan

"Go to prom with Trunks' sister?" I notice certain bitter as uncle Goten mentions his name. "I shall pass."

"What? But why?"

"She's a Briefs."

I have the urge of rolling my eyes at him, but no. I can't. If I really want to be part of Bulla's plan I must make him take her to prom. "If you only gave her a chance!"

"Why are you so damn pushy?" he growls, he always growls. Sometimes I miss the sweet and clumsy uncle Goten. Sometimes. "Does she have a crush on me or something?"

"What?" I say, my pitch higher than I expected it to be. And I let a long and ridiculously overreacted laugh come out. "Of course not." But he didn't seem to notice it was fake. Toughness won't take away his naivety. "We just need someone to give us a ride, so we thought maybe you wanted to come, too." Phew, good job, Pan, I thought, you didn't stutter much.

"So let me get this straight," I sigh my lungs out, trying to not sound much like an enraged bull. "You want me to help you sneak into my prom?"

I first started shaking my head no, because I wouldn't call it "sneaking in". No, I'm going with Bulla Briefs. The Briefs are always invited to parties. But yeah, we're sophomores, and this prom is meant to be for seniors. So I guess that's exactly what we're planning to do. So I turn the shake into a final nod, and he chuckles. That's it, done deal; I see it in his smirk.

"I'll pick you girls up at 10."

…

"Blue suits you well." I can't believe my eyes.

"I look like a slut."

Uncle Goten is really going to kill me, and if he doesn't, these high-heels sure will. My ankles and my knees and my calves and my legs in general are too weak to keep me standing. And the dress, oh God, if it can actually be called a dress. Strapless, doesn't even reach my mid-tight, and too tight around my body. It's an almost-white blue that makes my skin look paler than it already is.

And I'm staring at myself, in a full-sized mirror attached to the door of Bulla's room. A strand of my hair is pinned up, uncovering my left ear. Neatly ironed, I must say. I never thought my hair was so long, it reaches down to my middle when it's straightened, and well, combed at last. At least the only make up I'm wearing is eyeliner and a small brushed of mascara that makes my eyes look sort of, wider.

"Shit Pan, you almost make me want to come out for you."

Yeah, almost. Because the only reason that stops her from being a lesbian is that she's too vain to like some other girl but herself. So she holds my face with one of her hands—squeezing my cheeks a bit harder than she probably should—to apply a transparent lip-gloss with her free one.

"There. Goddess." And I can't help but to blush. "Wow, wait." She starts pinching my cheeks like if her life depended on it, like if she's enjoying it—which she most likely is. And I yelp, and she shushes me, hold it, she says, beauty costs.

And as the doorbell rings, the bluenette runs and hops down the staircase effortlessly while I'm struggling to take my second step.

…

I'd like to say that I learned how not to tremble on these shoes, or that everything went all right according to the plan. But sadly, it turned out to be even worse than what I expected the worst scenario to be, and I tend to think realistically—and that's already bad enough. See, my realistic is more like everyone's pessimist.

I never worried about Goten and Bulla. They had quite a good chemistry. Let me put it this way, Uncle Goten never called my attention when he saw me—because he never did, not even a glance. Perhaps I should've been jealous that Bulla looked so much curvier and more voluptuous than I did, or that she got all the stares—including Goten's—, but the gratefulness was more. Remember how I said Bulla could get literally anyone eating from the palm of her hand? Well, Goten is not exceptional. Which is good, I guess.

And there he was.

"Hey." I said from behind him, as he was staring at something from the entrance of the gym. He turned around; his hands were in his fancy, black tuxedo's pockets. And unlike many others' black and red bows, his was gray, with thin, white, diagonal stripes. And his hair, oh my. Revealing details of his face I missed before, like the small chickenpox scar on his temple. It was pulled backwards, with too much gel on it that it almost looked solid. It was a whole new Trunks Briefs.

"Pan?" but that didn't sound as amused or surprised as I'd dreamt it to be. It was a mix of bitterness and annoyance and confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, I just—"

He sighed a small chuckle, apologizing. "Sorry," he said, "It's been a long night."

And as the blueness of the night lit his face I noticed his turquoise eyes crystallize.

"Are you okay?" I hesitated.

He said a solid "yes", cleared his throat and then added, "I just hate this kind of,"—ahem—"things."

And I didn't want to, but I giggled before covering my mouth, but he smiled, and I felt those tingles you feel on the pit of your stomach when you've done something right.

"I'm sorry," he said right after, "I've been too insensible with all of this,"—and lazily motioned his pointer finger towards both of us repeatedly—"I guess I was just too stressed about graduation."

"It's okay." I said, because it really was, because I wasn't hurt. Because he healed me that night, to break me once more.

"Baby," I heard from behind, and I stared at Trunks, and he stared at me, and then he smiled at her. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

She was holding a red plastic cup and handed it towards Trunks—which he rejected—before wrapping an arm behind his back the way I've always wanted to. And then I saw the index finger, on her left hand with electric pink nails resting on the black jacket's wool.

"Oh," the blonde snapped as she saw me staring at the ring on her pink finger. "Isn't it huge?" and for a second, she sounded like one of those rich women.

But she technically already is

"Are you two..?"

"We are!" she said, before I could even finish the phrase, before he could even explain. But now that I mention it, it doesn't even make sense. Explain what?

But he knows what you feel

And sometimes it feels good to be smarter than my subconscious mind. I'm not something he should worry about. My feelings won't stop his. The world just keeps spinning.

"Right after we graduate, we'll…" blah, blah, blah. Like I care. But it was okay. It was understandable. Who wouldn't be excited to be the forthcoming Mrs. Briefs?

I don't exactly remember what happened after that. Who left first? What did I say? Did I even wish them well? Whatever, somehow I ended up at home, high-heels on hand, burning feet. And as Uncle Goten goes straight to bed with this tired smile on his face, I hear typing, and I know where it comes from. I knock on his open door.

"Dad?" I say, as he keeps typing on that geezer he calls a typewriter, but I think it's older than that. "Dad," I say once more, a little harsher than before. "Gohan." And it's kind of sad, but I'm starting to believe that he doesn't even remember he has a daughter who calls her that.

"Oh, hey Pan." And back to typing. "Had fun?"

"Yeah, lots. You?"

"Oh, yeah." Then turns around on the spinning chair he's sitting on. "Having a monster as a boss is a blast."

And I "tsk" a laugh, maybe because I don't have enough energy to actually laugh or the knot in my throat won't let me. "Funny."

"It was, wasn't it?" and he spins back to his typewriter. "I think you should call it a night." So I did. I stomped every step up the stairs until finally letting myself drop on the bed.

I'm staring at the ceiling with the cheap stars gramps pasted back when I was like, I don't know, ten years old. They used to shine in the dark, and I used to think they were cool because I imagined being an astronaut. Now it's sort of nostalgic, a good excuse to cry without being caught that I'm actually crying over a boy, a guy. Pathetic.

That was it. It was the time to shed the held back tears, I felt them coming. But I didn't even have tears to hold back, my eyes weren't even watery. But the hole in my chest was getting wider and I felt it invading my lungs, it was suffocating. The emptiness ached like hell.

Just wanted you guys to know that Gohan is alive and that he is Pan's father. Sorry if you think it's too much drama and sadness I personally think it's kinda getting boring :/ I'll try to make it happier :-) Mahalo!