The days seemed to drag by, slowly turning into weeks, months. Hell, Tora lost all track of time. He barely even noticed as Christmas came and went. Last year, he'd been excited to participate in all the festivities of this strange new holiday. He loved the lights and the warmth he felt from his new friends. The food even seemed to taste better, and there was a happiness in the air that he couldn't quite describe. And he had thoroughly enjoyed the silly Christmas movies Catie had talked him into watching. But this year was different. He didn't bother to go to the party that year, even though Bulma had insisted that he attend. He couldn't bear to see Eighteen and Marron, especially not in that festive holiday atmosphere. Would they be happy and going on with their lives as if he had never existed to them? Or would they be sad and avoid looking at him, their mood clouding the whole party? Either way, it would hurt too much. He spent his time with his books, losing himself in them, learning as much about this world as he possibly could. When he wasn't reading, he was entering martial arts competitions, stacking back as much money as he could. The fights were hardly a challenge, but the pay was good. And it let him blow off some steam without having to face any of his friends.
Eighteen was hurting, the months that passed by were not easy. Marron seemed to withdraw from her once Tora stopped coming around, refusing to work on her faery garden until Tora would come back. She was stubborn and didn't listen when Eighteen said that the Saiyan wasn't coming back. Marron threw a fit that day, crying and screaming, demanding to see her friend. The poor little thing was heartbroken that he wasn't going to be around anymore. She didn't understand. He'd said he would help her build it and now she wasn't going to see him anymore. The whole situation hurt Eighteen, so much more than she thought she would and she often found herself crying herself to sleep, aching for the two men that had wormed their way into her heart. Tora had been right; it was too late to not get hurt.
Miserable didn't even begin to describe the way Tora felt. He didn't think there were words for it. The emptiness, the aching cold he felt in his chest. This was even worse than when he'd lost his home, and his best friends Bardock and Gine. He didn't know before that he could feel a pain worse than that, but he'd found it now. He never thought he'd live to see the day where he didn't feel like eating. But there were many of those days, sometimes he had to consciously remind himself that he hadn't eaten and would force himself to swallow down something. But it didn't matter what he ate. None of it tasted good. He tried not to think about them, about Eighteen and Marron. Tried not to worry about if they were safe, if Marron was regaining any of her memories. He hoped she would forget him. He didn't want her to be left wondering why he didn't come around, wondering if it was something she'd done. It wasn't Marron's fault.
Eighteen looked at the phone every single day, thinking about picking it up and calling Tora to tell him to come around again. It wasn't just herself who was crying at night, Marron cried too, crying out for the Saiyan who never came around anymore. They were both hurting so badly, but instead of the pain fading away like she had thought it would, every day it only seemed to grow with each passing hour. There were times where she would type out a text to him, saying things like, "I miss you." Or "I'm sorry." Sometimes she would spill her heart out and tell him how badly she hurt for him, how she wanted him to come back, but she always deleted them before she could send them, telling herself that she would only end up more hurt in the long run. She didn't know if she believed that lie or not.
It was like he didn't know what to do with himself. The books weren't enough. He read through all of them, even the fiction ones that didn't interest him as much as the others. The words on the pages became a blur. He was going stir crazy in that tiny apartment and he often found himself daydreaming about a bigger house, but that daydream always ended with him near tears because he couldn't picture it without Eighteen and Marron. He thought about the money he had saved up in his account now, how he'd buy a big house in a subdivision off of the city. A nice house with a big backyard where Marron could have the biggest and best fairy garden she could ever dream of, where he and Eighteen could hold barbecues for their friends and spend lazy summer evenings relaxing under the stars. And then his heart ached all over again because he knew that that would never happen now. He would never have the family he longed for because they were it.
Eighteen was going crazy. She didn't know how much longer she could do this. The fluffy unicorn that Tora had gotten Marron never left her daughter's arms and she often caught her looking at the picture of Krillin and herself. Without Tora, Marron's progress has seemed to slow. Her memory was still coming back, but not nearly at the rate it had been when Tora was around. It was like Marron didn't even want to try anymore. Eighteen couldn't get the Saiyan out of her mind. Her bed seemed colder than before and nothing could warm her. She piled blankets on the bed, wrapped herself in the warmest pajamas she owned, and still that damn bed was cold. Oh, how she longed to feel him next to her, holding her like he had that night she slept at his apartment. There were times in between wakefulness and sleep that she imagined he was there, his large frame curled around her, that deep purr resounding in her ear. And then she'd snap awake again, only to find her bed cold and empty. She found herself aching for that companionship once again. "Tora," she'd whine into the darkness then and hug her pillow to her chest until she cried herself to sleep again.
Tora had tried venturing out into the city, looking for some new hobby to occupy his mind. But the very first shop he'd wandered into had a display of fairy figurines set out and he nearly broke down in the store and had gone straight home. It didn't matter what he did, everything seemed to remind him of them. Coffee and blueberry scones. A blonde woman on the street or a family out taking in the sights of the city. A car the same god-awful shade of green as the one that had nearly hit Marron. Even his motorcycle lost its luster because he kept thinking about the day he'd taken Eighteen on a picnic. The day Marron had finally woken from her coma. Every damn thing around him just made him think of them and made him hurt all over again. He took to sequestering himself away in his apartment even more.
Eighteen tried to spend more time with her brother and Leelee. She thought that maybe being around them would cheer her up, much the way she had done when Leelee was suffering from depression when she'd been scarred so badly. It didn't help. Even on the nights when she sent Marron to stay with Paige at Bulma's, and Eighteen went to Seventeen's for pizza and beer, it didn't help. Seeing how happy her brother was with Leelee only made her feel more alone. It wasn't their fault. They didn't ignore her, but they were so wrapped up in each other that it was hard to sit next to them while they cuddled on the couch. She couldn't be mad at her brother for being in love. It was just that she wanted the same for herself.
Tora knew his friends were concerned about him. Catie and Trunks came by with movies and he turned them down. Goku popped in a few times, offering to take him to the cabin for a meal or to spar, but Tora didn't feel like eating or fighting. Even Vegeta had come by to check on him, just to make sure he was still alive. He supposed he should've been embarrassed about the state of himself and his apartment, but he just couldn't. He just simply didn't give a damn anymore. Everything around him seemed gray, dull, without Eighteen and Marron. He hadn't shaved, his hair was a mess, his apartment strewn with books and laundry. He didn't give a fuck. The harder he tried to push them from his mind, the more they seemed to swim in his memory. He couldn't figure out where he'd gone wrong. He spent hours just lying on the couch or pacing the floor, analyzing in agonizing detail every single moment spent with her. Had he gone over the top with the spa day and the dress? Or had he not done enough to show how he felt? Or perhaps she felt he was pushing Krillin too far out of Marron's memory. Did she feel that he was trying to take her late husband's place? But he'd promised he wasn't and it was the truth. Maybe it was the constant teasing he'd done. But none of it seemed to warrant this. He couldn't pinpoint the part where he'd screwed up. And it drove him crazy.
Eighteen had been grateful for the cold weather. It gave her an excuse to stay inside for most of the winter. But as the days gave way to warmer weather once again, she found herself wanting to just stay inside more and more. The trees grew leaves again, but her mind drifted back to that day at the lake where they had been the most beautiful shades of gold and red. She'd wanted to take Marron there, to let her experience the drive she'd taken with Tora, but now that was out of the question. It made her sick to her stomach to think about it now. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to look at the leaves without thinking of him. How had he worked his way into her heart like this? She hadn't wanted him to. She tried to go back to the way she'd originally felt about him. She'd hated him at one point, blamed him for Krillin's death. But now she couldn't do it. She couldn't make herself believe that lie anymore. He wasn't responsible for what had happened. Yet he had done everything in his power to make up for it. He was a good man, she knew that. And now she'd lost him, too.
"Make me stop loving her. Make me stop loving her," he whispered in the darkness, grabbing at his hair, trying to will his heart to stop hurting. The pain was becoming unbearable. It didn't matter how many months had past. She invaded his every thought, haunting his dreams, setting his blood on fire by the mere memory of her touch. There was a rawness to his soul, a throbbing burn that just wouldn't stop. Was this the way love was supposed to feel? Oh what a cruel trick of fate if it was. Love was supposed to be easy, wasn't it? To just fall into this sort of happy state with the person of your choosing with no thought of the future because all the future held after that was happily ever after, right? Stupid fairytales. That wasn't how it really worked. Love was harsh; it swallowed you up and drowned you in misery, blinding you to everything around you and somehow you enjoyed the ride until it came to a screeching halt and left you dazed, confused, and broken at the end. Love was bullshit.
Eighteen rolled over in her bed, starting only slightly when she heard her cell phone buzzing. Her heart leapt and she sat up faster than she would later admit and grabbed for it. Perhaps Tora was calling. She hoped he was calling. She longed to hear his voice. Her heart sank when she saw Bulma's number on her screen and she swiped her fingers across the glass and raised it to her ear, listening to the frantic voice on the other end. "Wait... what's happened to her?" She felt the blood drain out of her face, "We'll be right there."
Tora fell over as he frantically tried to pull on his jeans. No. No, this couldn't be happening. He was panicked. He knew he looked like shit, but he didn't care. He had to get to the hospital as fast as he possibly could. He would not shut himself away this time. This was too important. He knew that. He finally managed to dress himself and roughly yanked a comb through his hair enough so that he could tie it back in a ponytail at the base of his skull. He snapped his fingers and disappeared in a puff of blue smoke and reappeared in the hospital waiting room that was already full of their friends.