I've come to realize that Chapter 1-3 seem rushed so I'll be rewriting them. Please leave your email in a review or PM me if you want me to let you know when I post the revised chapters. I'm not quite sure if FF. net will notify so I'll be more than happy to :)

This chapter is the longest so far so I hope this will hold everybody over until I rewrite 1-3 then post Chapter 5.

Mjmusiclover: I love your reviews, they always make me smile and yes I know it's kind of cruel for Goten and it'll probably just get worse but I'm sure things will turn out ok. :)

baileeYDG: Yea, TruTen fics are a rare breed anymore but there a still a few who prevail through the heavy fog of B/V fics lol and thank you for the review and for reading, I'm very glad to hear your enjoying this.

xXKimi2k5Xx: I hope this update was quick enough lol and thank you for the review :)

So Indecisive

Goten's POV

To say the past few days have been awkward would be an immense understatement. It was as if both of us pretended that moment never happened but at the same time knew the other knew what happened and the repercussions of it. And to make matters worse we were avoiding each other like the plague. Neither of us had the courage to confront the other. In the mornings when I heard him walking about the flat to ready himself for work I would stay in my room until I heard the front door close and felt his ki long gone and vice versa. It was getting a little ridiculous and I silently hoped it would end soon.

But I know the only way for this the end with both of us on good terms with the other is to push my worries aside and confront him finally. But how in the world does one go about such a thing? Especially after all of the strange thoughts that have been haunting me as of late?

That kiss on the balcony hit me so hard it almost knocked Paris' lingering presence from my thoughts. Like she had never even existed, like we had never been a couple, like she had never betrayed me. It feels as if Trunks literally kissed all of my pain away. But when I say his name I reel my thoughts back realizing not only is Trunks my best friend; he my best guy friend; one whom I live with. And this is the most frustrating part because now I'm wondering just who am I? But I never get an answer because I'm too afraid to question myself. Taking a long walk back on the hands of time I can see myself as a child holding his hand, as a young adolescence sitting close to him by the lake, and as an adult always depending on him for comfort in the strangest ways; in the only ways Trunks would understand. But is it really wrong to think and feel these things?

I look into the mirror housed by my bathroom as I lean forward on the granite counter. It's another morning where I wait for Trunks to leave for work so I can go out into the kitchen and feed myself. I look my reflection over judging myself. My hair is mess from a sleepless night of tossing and turning. My body is long and lean; not what women are usually after. I look into my own eyes; all over my face. I groan at the knowledge that I will always look like him no matter what ever I do to my appearance.

I push off against the counter and turn on the water in the shower as hot as it will go. I know it's weird; taking a hot shower in the summer time, but I'm always fond of warmer temperatures. And considering Trunks likes the keep the apartment at a comfortable -56 degrees is also a deciding factor for my favored hot showers. I jump in closing the now fogged glass door behind me.

I dump shampoo into my hair and start scratching and scrubbing like hell. I am sick a tired of thinking of him and maybe a little afraid of my confusion. Letting out my frustrations on my poor hair probably isn't the best way but destroying the bathroom and blowing my cover isn't either. So unfortunately my hair will have to suffer.

On the usual I don't get frustrated and take out my anger on innocent people or inanimate objects but this little problem has been festering for days and for once in my life I can't seem to control my most inner thoughts that are slowly but surely transforming in to little demons that I'm sure have not made their last appearance. I know keeping all of these things to myself isn't healthy but there is no one to possibly talk to about this. Trunks is avoiding me so there's no going to him. I can't imagine what my mother would think of her own son admit confusion to his sexual preference and I wouldn't be able to take the disgust on my brothers face or his disappoint in me. My whole life, even now, I always try and do the best of his standards; striving for his pride in me. Even in my late twenties I still look up to him.

I shove my head back under the falling water and rinse my hair clean of the lather. The scolding hot water runs down my face and back and I can almost hear my muscles moan in pleasure. Lord knows I love my showers.

I grab my bath sponge thing I still don't know the proper name for and spill the liquid soap onto it. I pause for a second hearing a click noise but distract myself once more with the task at hand; it must have been Trunks leaving for work finally. I'm kind of glad he's finally gone, I'm starving and starving myself won't help me any. Another thing I loved was his cooking. I wasn't the best cook but I got by. He hates my cooking so he's taken responsibility for our dinners and what not.

I squeeze my eyes shut as if it will keep his memory at bay but my attempts are once more fruitless. His image is before my mind's eye as I look him up and down. His light lavender hair in perfect form and his icy blue eyes catching me. I can almost feel his hands on me; his lips on mine-

I gasp opening my eyes to see only the expensive stone of the shower wall. I'm quickly frustrated at not only myself for even thinking of such a thing but also at myself for having an actual physical reaction to it below the belt. I grip my sponge and start scrubbing feverishly all over my body as if I'll eventually just scrub all of the gay off of me. There is no way I was just turned on by the thought of another man…

"Ahhh!" Suddenly the shower door is ripped open and I use my sponge to cover myself.

Trunks is standing before me in his navy blue suit, "Hey… what's up?"

I look at him dumbfounded and ask in an angry sarcastic tone, "Are you serious?"

He completely ignores my question and asks me, "Hey can we talk?"

"Right now?"

He hangs his head obviously not leaving. "Look I spent all morning working up the courage to come and talk to you and I finally grew a pair and just walked in. Besides it's not like I've never seen you naked before."

My eyebrows knit together still a little peeved from being barged in on. I notice his wondering eyes, "Hey, eyes up here."

"I'm not like that."

"Your argument is so convincing."

"Seriously Goten. I don't know why… it keeps happening but it does. It's like I can't control myself. I'm really sorry; I just wish we could forget this whole ever happened and just move on."

I see the concern in his eyes. I realize this has been eating him up just as much as it has me. I want to reach out and hold him, tell him its ok. But another part of me wants to dig a little further. There is only one reason he would keep doing this to me. Does he love me?

Our history can almost prove how much he really does care for me… and how I do for him. But has it always been a love for your best friend? Or was it something neither of us could understand because neither of us understood how complicated it really was. We had always held our heads high thinking we could control the world; had it all figured out when in reality we didn't have a clue.

"I'm sorry," he says again, "It'll never happen again."

My face softens and a millions question want to stampede out of my mouth but I hold them back. I can't start asking him questions or even admit to what my recent thoughts have been until I figure myself out. Until I know for sure what it is I want…

But, there is still one thing I need to know, "Trunks, I forgive you but… can you answer me something?"

He nods his head.

"If you were gay you'd tell me right?"

His eyes widen and he laughs nervously, "I guess so but I'm not like that, I swear! I guess I just like touching people when I get a little buzzed," he became serious, "But I'm not gay, I'm just… not."

Like the aforementioned statement, his argument still isn't convincing.

"Trunks, that night, you said 'I can't love you.' What did you mean by that?"

He seems a little surprised then his features morph into one of confusion. "I said that?" I nod. He crosses his arms and shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know, I don't remember that."

Liar.

"Oh," I say.

"Let's just forget about it ok?" he suggests grabbing my naked wet shoulders and shaking me a bit.

I smile, "Sure."

He let's go to make his leave, "Good, I'll see you later tonight. I gotta' get going, I'm already late for work."

He turns out of the bathroom closing the door behind him. I watched him leave and felt the smallest pang of regret of leaving my questions unanswered. Deep down I knew he was lying to me; I knew all of this keeps happening for a reason. And against the best of my ability's now my emotions were coming in to play as if my heart had invited them along for the ride.

I try my best to finish with my shower so I can head to my mother's house. I am in desperate need of attention and someone to talk to. All of this confusion and utter frustration is driving me up a wall and literally giving me headache. I can't possibly take one more of Trunks' kisses or one more of his 'I'm not gay' lies.

Trunks POV

Was that honestly the best I could possibly come up with?

Granted I was taken aback by Goten in all of his glory in the shower but I was blinded with pent up encouragement on my own part to follow through with this little chat we needed to have. I knew if I hadn't barged in on him I would have kept making excuses to avoid him and silently pray he would come to me. But in a way I feel better about being the first to come forth with what we both knew couldn't just up and go away.

Even if the deed was done, was it done the right way? Is there even a right way to go about something of this caliber?

Even hours later as I sit at my desk I have to debate on whether or not there are any right amount of words that would outweigh my recent behavior. But in the back of my mind I know those little moments that eventually led up to that last one will never cease to be; their burned into our memories now and I feel as though that awkwardness between us two will not dissipate anytime soon. I just hope this won't eventually grow into something more than it is and tare us apart.

Just the thought of losing Goten from my life makes me physically shiver. I know it's not because I'm just used to him being with me always; I genuinely care for him… as my best friend. I always have. Ever since we were in diapers I had always kept him close by my side to watch over him and lead him in a way. And through our adolescence into adulthood we had been there for each other, so to me it's only natural I feel as though I need him and hopefully vice versa. Even subconsciously I took care of him whether it was making sure he ate enough by making him dinner or there for him when he need listening ears for his most kept secrets. I knew it was a care for someone else like no one else because I never expected anything in return from him.

Is that the root to all of this?

"No," I tell myself quietly. Never in my life had I have to question myself in such a manner. I keep telling myself 'No' but once alcohol comes into play everything I worked on to keep myself low profiled goes out the window. I guess it's true when they say your drunken words are you sober minds thoughts.

I've never minded the gay community; hell, I even had a few gay friends in highschool. But if I were to announce that I too was one of them, everything I had ever worked so hard on would be in jeopardy. Not only from the disappointment of my family but our monopolizing corporate business as well. I was never one to take rejection lightly and to feel such a thing from my own family just may kill me. Just the mere thought of my father knowing his son was a pansy taking it from behind an no less from a Son would surly put me in my grave and surly stripe me of any royal heritage I had ever had disowning me completely. My father, Prince Vegeta of Planet Vegeta was all testosterone, the alpha, and clearly all man. So it's only natural to expect the same of his only son. I would never in a million year be able to handle that kind of rejection from the man I looked up to the most.

But I have nothing to worry about right? Because I'm not like that. I keep trying to convince myself that drunk Trunks is a completely different person; my alter ego and he tends to be a little frisky once he's acquired enough power to take over.

… It could happen…

Frustrated with my work I lay down the papers in my hands onto the hard cherry wood of my desk. They fly from the extra force away on and clutter to the floor. I just can't concentrate anymore. Even after our short talk I'm still worrying about what happened and what's to be. I really need to cut myself loose and just relax. I decide a night on the town with a few friends won't hurt and begin dialing a few numbers from my office telephone.

We decide to grab some food then go out for some drinks. It's a weekday after all so I make sure to tell my acquaintances I can't be out too late. But in all honesty I want to be home before Goten get home from work. If he comes home on time then he's forgiven and forgotten but if he works overtime I know he's still thinking about it. He tends to overwork himself when something is bothering him and usually ends with me begging for him to talk. Trying to get Goten to confess his personal problems or talk about his feelings was like pulling teeth. So testing him like such was one of helping tools in deciphering the mood he was in.

I have a feeling it isn't the end of this.

Goten's POV

When I decided to become a doctor I imagined a career of hands on work with patients that would appreciate my hard work and devotion to their health. But I was wrong, dead wrong. Half of my time I'm up to my eyeballs in paperwork. I dread any kind of work involving paper, writing, and filing; the same also goes for work on the computer. I thought I suffered enough through highschool and college when it came to hand written ten page essays and reports but apparently not. Every time Nurse Roberts placed a beige folder in front of me I was tempted to rip it to shreds screaming bloody murder but… my chief of medicine wouldn't appreciate that and I would most likely be admitted to the mental ward on the third floor.

But if the paperwork wasn't enough, fate handed me ungrateful, asshole-ish patients on the regular. As hard as I work to make my patients feel comfortable and try my very best to fix them up and get them home they always seem to give me some kind a brand new attitude when they discover I can't read their minds and instantly figure out what's wrong with them. I loathe these kinds of people… and Ralphie Mae… yes he's made his grand entrance yet again. Apparently our last pep talk just wasn't enough.

I think ever since I got my residency here I've become a little bitter. When I was young I had never been put off or angered when people tried to get the best of me. I just didn't care because I knew who I was and I knew who my real friends and family were. This place… it destroys people and only the strongest survive whether you're a patient or doctor. But then there's a rare occasion you do get a friendly patient who knows your trying your damn best to help them and they tell you how much it means to them, how happy you made them, and even go the extra mile to personally thank you.

Like Mrs. Morley. She was a sweet older woman I didn't mind caring for and was glad to be called upon by her whenever she needed something. Even when we had broken the news to her about her cancer she knew there wasn't really anything we could do and never lashed out in a cursing fit but kept her calm demeanor. She knew we tried our best and accepted it. That was almost a year ago, she's a fighter. She had opted out of Hospice and instead went for Palliative care. The two are essentially the same thing only on Palliative Care, the patient is not required to stop treatment prolonging their lives or finding a cure.

She was admitted a few days ago on account of painful symptoms. We've been running tests to switch her medication and define exactly which were safe for her to take. I walk into her room after knocking and see her lying peacefully on the bed. She smiles, "Hello Dr. Son."

"Hey Mrs. Morley. Feeling any better?" I ask seeing the IV drip in her arm.

"Oh yes, much better. So what have you got for me today?"

I walk over the machines that monitor her vitals and look them over. Everything seems to be in order so I feel now is the right time to tell her the good news.

"Good news is that we're going to be switching you hydromorphone. It's about five times stronger per milligram than the morphine so instead of taking it on a regular basis try taking it only when you feel pain. Any consistency might lead to a dependency on the pill and eventually build immunity to it."

I hand her the prescription as she reads over it, I made sure to indicate to take only half of the pill at first, so the side effects aren't so dramatic, until her body can get a grasp for it. I couldn't imagine how scared I would be being told all of the things I'm telling her right now. Like I said; she's brave.

She pushes her gray and white hair from her eyes behind her ear and slightly adjusts her falling bun. "Could you place this in my purse dear?" she asks me. I do so taking the frail piece of paper from her and sticking it in the brown leather bag on the chair without shoving my hand within it.

"Dr. Son," I turn and look at her, "Are you feeling ok? You don't look like yourself."

I shrug, "It's nothing; I just have this massive headache. But I'll be fine, I get them a lot so I'm used to it."

She frowns not satisfied with my answer, "That doesn't sound good."

I wave her off, "Trust me I'm fine. Besides, if I felt like something was seriously wrong, of all people, I would do something about it."

There's that look again but I just stare at her back with the whisper of a smile on my face. She breaks with a grin and almost silent laugh. "No one gets me stirred up like you Dr. Son."

I lean forward resting my hands on the end of her bed, "I like to keep my patients on their toes."

"Well, I don't want to see anything bad happen to my favorite doctor so promise me you'll get it checked out if it gets any worse."

I raised my hand in vow, "I promise."

After a dreaded ten hour shift I'm finally released to go home. I have to say this is my favorite part of the day. After working hard and straining yourself for such a prolonged amount of time just thinking about your shower and bed then actually being able to up and leave is the greatest feeling to me.

After the short drive home and the longest wait in the elevator I finally reach my floor and trudge down the hall. All I can think about is peeling the dark blue scrubs from my body and just falling in bed. I decide I'm too tired for a shower and will take care of that tomorrow when I care what I smell like. Plus I just wanted to sleep this headache off.

I can sense Trunks within the room as I unlock the door. His ki feels fuzzy; he must have gone out drinking. He's been drinking more often and it beginning to concern me, I just don't want him to become dependent of it just like Mrs. Morley with her hydromorphone. I always knew Trunk's had a very addictive personality but I never thought he would become an alcoholic. The only reason I never bring it up is because one, he always makes it to work and can still be productive when needed and two, I usually join him on the weekends.

I walk in and notice him walk out from the kitchen; he must have heard me unlock the front door. I kick my shoes off as he stumbles toward me with a look of awe on his face. "Trunks?" I ask, "You ok man?"

"Me?" he asks bewildered, "what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You look like shit dude."

Wow…

He asks, "Do you want something to eat?"

"No, I just want to go to bed, it's late."

"Come one, just eat a little something."

I decide to just ignore him and walk passed him to the kitchen. Of course he follows me and watching as I grab I glass from the cupboard then filling it with water. From within my pocket I retrieve a percocet popping it in my mouth. I swallow it down with the water then put the glass in the sink.

Trunks frown, "Your still taking them?"

I shrug, "Only when I need to. Advil doesn't do it anymore."

I feel him grip my wrist and begin pulling me toward my bedroom. "Trunks, what are you doing? Let go of me!"

"You look like death. You're sick and I'm putting you to bed."

I plop down on my rear end in an attempt to stop him from dragging me away. The sight must have looked rather comical but I don't care. I will not stand for being treated like a child. Not only does my mother believe I'm still seven years old but apparently so does my best friend.

My plan to stop him fails and he just keeps dragging me across the hallway carpet and into my room. I groan standing up and am surprised when Trunks start pulling off my scrubs for me. "Now what are you doing?" I ask as my shirt is pulled over my head, thrown to the floor.

"I know you don't sleep in your work clothes. Now come on, take them off."

I groan slipping out of my pants, pulling off my sox and stand clad in my boxers. Before I have a chance Trunks once again grabs my wrist and pulls me over to my bed. He tosses the covers back and practically throws me into the mattress. He covers me with my thick comforter then sits on the side of me. "I'm gunna make you soup tomorrow." I know there's no point in arguing with him so I just let him talk his drunken nonsense.

I close my eyes, "Thanks." Even though I'm not even sick.

"I know you don't like people babying you but just let me take care of you ok?"

I roll my eyes and agree, "Yes, ok…" Anything just to get him out so I can get some sleep.

His hand unanticipatedly cups the side of my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone, "I hate seeing you in pain. I'll take care of you."

Usually I would have told him he was beginning to repeat himself but I let it ride to see where this is going. He leans down to me kissing my forehead. "Go to sleep."

I watch him leave. He waves goodbye closing my bedroom door. After such an affectionate gesture he still says he doesn't care for me more than a friend?

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