To Understand Love

Hello again. Thanks to Nana666 and Steven for reviewing the last installment. I appreciate all comments. I wish there was a way I could reply to them, but this site doesn't offer that option! So thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball Z and all characters are owned by Toriyama Akira.

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A few weeks later…

“Mr. Nezumi, do you have a few minutes?” I ask somewhat forcefully while I try not to fan myself in the sweltering heat of the outer office. Sensing sweat drip down the back of my neck and onto the starched collar of my somewhat pristine white button down shirt, I successfully ward off the grimace appearing at the corners of my mouth. I’m used to sweat, but there is nothing worse than feeling like drowning in the smelly bodily excrement, especially when the polyester fabric of my shirt sticks to my skin like a cellophane sleeve.

And, to make matters worse, my egotistical boss has the satisfaction of sitting upon his throne enjoying the soft, cool air coming from his own personal air conditioning unit that he recently installed, while the rest of his lackeys toil out in the hot sun selling, in my opinion, physically compromised junk cars for an over-inflated price. Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, but there is a reason behind Mr. Nezumi’s no return policy and that’s probably because the pieces of shit he sells to his customers would end up coming back as soon as the cars had been driven for more than a city block.

Slowly, he swivels his desk chair around and away from the old thirteen inch T.V. that occupies most of his working hours as he watches all the major sports networks. Taking a sip from a soft drink container, he flicks a few drops of condensation off his skinny, ringed fingers before acknowledging my request. As usual, he tries to make it seem as though I’m interrupting his valuable time, but since I’m used to his tactics of covert intimidation, I simply ignore the simmering feeling of pent up anger and resentment in regards to the well-oiled rat sitting in front of me. At times like this, his attitude inflames the innate violence I try to contain. However, it wouldn’t do me any good to give in to my temper and blast the surrounding area to nothing more than a pile of ashes. I don’t particularly desire becoming a wanted criminal.

“I might have a few that I could spare. However, I’m a very busy man Goten, and so I can’t guarantee how much time I can give you.”

Bullshit, I think to myself. I know as soon as his ‘valuable time’ is up, he’s just going to go back to watching T.V. and drinking his diet sodas in the privacy of his air conditioned office. However, humoring him is one of the strategies I’ve learned to use during my time working in his used car lot.

“Ah, not to worry Mr. Nezumi. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, at the most.”

Stepping into his abode, I close the door behind me and step up to his desk, pulling out the folder I’ve been hiding behind my back. As soon as he sees the folder, his already small eyes squint in even further, adding to his overall appearance that mimics his last name. I have a feeling he thinks that I’m going to be asking for a raise, especially since he’s been late with our quarterly reviews and my performance record indicates that my base salary should have been increased at least a month or two ago. The first words out of his mouth only validate my assumption.

“Well Goten, are you here to talk about your performance review? I assure you, you’ve been doing an adequate job. You’re one of my most faithful employees and you do seem to have a real knack with sales. However…”

I put my hand up, effectively cutting him off in the middle of his excuses.

“It’s not about a raise. In fact, it’s about the complete opposite.”

I can see he’s dumbstruck because his eyes bulge out of his head and he starts to visibly sweat. No doubt, he has an inkling about what I’m going to do and the thought of losing his most valuable sales slave is probably a frightening reality for him. I can’t help but smirk as I pull out a piece of paper from my folder and set it on the desk in front of him. Quickly, he shakes his head before snatching the piece of paper off his Formica topped desk.

Reading it hastily, he drops it as quickly as he picked it up before flopping his body back into the cushions of his orange vinyl office chair.

“You’re tendering your resignation?”

I nod my head in the affirmative, feeling somewhat satisfied and vindicated by the rather clueless and confused look on his ugly face.

“But…Goten, my boy! You’re throwing away a golden opportunity by leaving Nezumi’s Auto Emporium! You’re our number one sales lead. We can’t…I mean you can’t afford to leave! I think you’re being a bit hasty in your decision. Have a seat and we’ll talk about how to make you see the value of staying with my company.”

I don’t take a seat. Instead, I move back towards the door and put my hand on the knob, which only inflames Mr. Nezumi, who is now clearly showing signs of his distress over losing another valuable employee.

“Look Mr. Nezumi, I appreciate the offer, but I’ve spent a good couple of weeks thinking about this decision and I feel in the long run, it’s the best one that I can make.”

Truthfully, I just want to tell him that his company sucks and where he can stick it. However, I want to leave with a good impression simply because having him bad mouth me could affect my future employment opportunities.

“Goten…if it’s about money, I’ll give you a 15 percent raise. And I’ll…make a deal with you so you won’t have to work any more Saturdays. Hell, I’ll even give you a promotion to advanced sales lead.”

Advanced sales lead? I want to ask him if such a position even exists within his crappy business. And no matter that a 15 percent raise would be nice, with guaranteed weekends off, it’s not enough to offset the thought of spending the rest of my life doing a job that I despise for a man that I think of in worse terms than I did for Super Buu, who killed my mom and ended up killing me and Trunks too. Standing firm to my resolution, I shake my head no.

“Thanks for the offer, Mr. Nezumi. However, I can’t accept it. I’m giving you this letter of resignation and my two weeks notice. If that’s all, I’m going to leave, since my shift is over with.”

Before he can say anything in an attempt to woo me back to his side, I quickly exit, shutting the door behind me with a loud bang. Stepping quickly outside the rickety looking building that holds the offices, I pad across the auto lot and leave without saying goodbye to the two other sales representatives currently talking to potential customers. Crossing the street to the bus stop, I sit on the bench feeling for the first time in a long time a sense of heady relief. I finally stuck to a resolution, and quitting from Mr. Nezumi’s used car lot was easier than I had thought it would be. True, I still have to put in my two weeks, but I’m not concerned with that because they’ll go by swiftly. And since I have a job lined up as an assistant activities director for the boys and girls club I had worked for during college, things seem to finally be looking up. At least, for part of my life, at any rate.

Shaking off my negativity, I suddenly find myself desiring to do something spontaneous, something reckless, and something…daring. In truth, I think it’s the freedom of finally kicking away that feeling of never ending suffocation by taking my life back into my hands. I haven’t felt like this in…years. Most likely not since high school or even before then. Standing up rapidly from the bench, I wink at an elderly lady who is startled by my sudden movement before I power up and blast off into the air. I laugh when I can hear the strain of the voices from the passersby’s who wonder how an earth a boy can fly before I find myself landing on Trunks’ balcony outside his expensive, luxury apartment.

Brushing my windblown hair out of my face, I step up to the sliding patio door and peer inside. I have no idea if he’s home or not and I feel foolish that my spontaneity led me here, of all places. In fact, it’s been over a week since I last talked to Trunks, and while things seem to have improved on the surface, I still feel like there is something vital that’s missing between the two of us. Anyway, the reality is that he is my best friend, and whenever I’ve done something that means a great deal to me, he’s always been the first person I’ve told my news to, even ahead of Gohan and my parents. Sensing out for his ki, I’m relieved when I can feel it somewhere inside the vicinity. Sliding my courage up a notch, I rap loudly on the tempered glass.

“Hey Trunks! I know you’re in there. Trunks!”

My ears pick up a faint rustling sound coming from the other side of the glass. A few seconds later, I can see Trunks stumbling down the hallway, coming to a halt at the patio door. I feel a twinge of guilt when I take in his appearance. It’s obvious that he just got out of bed, as he’s only wearing his boxers and they look like he just put them on. His hair is flat on one side of his head, while the other side sports a haphazard style of fine locks sticking out in strange angles and directions. And the expression on his face tells me that he’s less than happy about being woken up, especially when he locks his blood shot eyes on my own and crosses his arms in a pose reminiscent of his father.

“Well?” he asks sourly.

Licking my lips nervously, a scratch at the back of my head, suddenly unsure of what I should do next. I really want to share my plans with him, to hear what he thinks even though I have a feeling he’s going to be less than enthused with the direction I’ve decided to take in my life. But on the other hand, he seems to be in a really pissed off mood, and having a conversation with a grouchy Trunks is almost as bad as trying to have a conversation with Vegeta on a normal occasion. Still, I didn’t come here for nothing and I’m not going to let his foul mood and unkempt appearance intimidate me. I’m turning over a new leaf in life, and that includes Trunks. At least, in my head, that’s what I think. Gathering what’s left on my courage, I ask him if I can come in.

“Fine, I suppose.”

With that, he unlatches the door and pushes it to the side, letting me in. I slide past his body, suddenly aware of our close proximity, before he backs away slightly and starts heading back in the direction he had come from. Following him, we turn down a short hallway and suddenly, I find myself in his bedroom, of all places.

The room is a complete wreck, even worse than mine. There are clothes wadded up all over the floor, and old magazines and papers scattered around, soiled with what looks to be water stains. The shades are drawn, so there’s hardly any light coming into the dimly lit interior, and the whole room reeks of alcohol, vomit, and a musty odor I suddenly recognize as sex. The first thing that crosses my mind at that realization is who would want to have sex in such a mess. The second thought that crosses my mind is that Trunks is still drunk, or he’s suffering from a really nasty hangover, in the middle of the week.

“Don’t you have to work?” I blurt out while I watch him crawl onto his bed.

“Who the fuck cares about work? I don’t do anything. Mommy dearest still pulls all the strings. She can handle one day without having her precious Trunkie-poo to push around.”

His sarcastic tone isn’t lost on me and I cringe inwardly when I realize more clearly just how hemmed in Trunks must feel sometimes, being the heir to such a huge global conglomerate without ever being given the choice of whether or not it was something he wanted to become. It’s just been expected of him. On the same hand, however, I can’t condone his utter lack of responsibility or concern for his own well-being, especially after having our discussion at my brother’s birthday celebration. Especially when I…when I care about him so much.

“Were you out drinking last night?”

He laughs bitterly at me before collapsing on his side and covering his eyes with the back of his arm.

“What the fuck does it look like? I went and got wasted, and I have to say, the experience was…it was…fuck, I don’t know. I got drunk, brought some girls home, we had sex, we drank some more, we had sex some more, and I passed out. Apparently, they found they’re way out ‘cause when I woke up to puke around two o’clock this afternoon, they were gone. Fucking whores. Weren’t even good lays. In it for the money. Well, I’m not hooking up with some slut at the bar with marriage in mind. To hell with that. They can get a piece of me, and that’s it. I’m through.”

His caustic comments and acidic tone make me wince. I’ve never…heard this side of Trunks before. I’ve seen glimpses of it, but still, when we used to get drunk together, he never acted like this when he woke up with a hangover. And to hear him speak so negatively of the woman he has no qualms with using, I wonder perhaps, what the root of all of Trunks’ self-destructive behavior is coming from all of a sudden. And why I’ve been too blind to really see it, when it’s probably been slowly festering inside him for some time, well before we started having our issues driving a wedge between the two of us.

Looking at him, I feel a mix of pity and disgust. Again, I wonder why he drives himself to end up in such a condition. I could understand it when we were younger, when the irrationality of youth and the desire to fit into a crowd of people where mitigating factors. I can’t understand it now, yet I know that he isn’t the only person in our age group who hasn’t discovered how poisonous and dangerous these stupid games are.

“Trunks, why man? I mean, I don’t understand. Do you like ending up like this?”

He pulls his arm away from his face and sits up awkwardly, looking at me…watching me. I feel…insecure, nervous. The intensity of his eyes…he can pierce me with one look and I’m utterly within his disposal, just as I have always been. He’s angry and unreadable at the same time.

“Is that why you came Goten? To put yourself above me once again? I’m so God fucking sick of your attitude. What makes you any better than me, huh? If you’re going to act like your some virtuous asswipe, get the hell out of here. I don’t need to hear it from you.”

Shaking my head slightly to clear it, I step away from his bed. It’s pointless to even try to understand him when he’s like this because he won’t listen and we’ll just end up having yet another fight. It’s at times like this if I wonder what the point is to stay locked in a friendship that’s been going sour for years. But unlike Nezumi’s used car lot, I can’t just leave my best friend hanging high and dry, like I did when I walked out on him at the club. I can’t leave that part of me which knows somewhere, there’s a Trunks that is possibly reaching out for help even if he doesn’t realize it yet. At the same time, seeing him acting like this and talking down to me is like a painful slap in the face of all that is sacred between the two of us. It’s hard to endure, and I wish I could punch some sense into his head, yet all I do is take the easy road out and change the subject.

“Um…so, I…I have some news,” I stammer out, hoping he takes the bait and doesn’t decide to force me into a confrontation.

“Big fucking deal. You came here to bother me over something as trivial as news? What, is Videl pregnant again? Or did somebody die?”

Well, it’s not exactly the response I was looking for, but it gives me the guts to carry on. Smoothing my hair back as he waits grumpily on his bed, I smile awkwardly before answering.

“Not exactly. I mean, Videl and Gohan aren’t going to be having another kid, as far as I know. And if somebody died that we knew, I probably wouldn’t be the bearer of bad news. It’s actually about me. I quit my job.”

I watch as the anger on his face slowly dissolves, replaced by a look of incredulity.

“Seriously? You’re not making a joke out of this are you?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. I gave that fucktard Nezumi my letter of resignation and my two weeks notice.”

He suddenly grins at me and the tension in the room bursts like a bubble, leaving a sensation of excitement and happiness. Relaxing, I return his smile.

“What you really should have done was given him the finger and told him what an absolute horror he was to work for. And then you should have powered up a ki blast and leveled his tacky car lot.”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

His grin slowly melts to a normal smile, and he pats the spot next to him on the bed. Stepping over his trash, I sit down on the proffered area, pushing away my reservations about the possibly soiled bedding.

“So, why didn’t you? Well, I suppose you want to have a good recommendation coming from him. I’m telling you Goten, as a friend, don’t expect much from him even though you quit using a proper method. He’s an ass, and he’s probably sulking because the guy who was making him the most money decided he could find greener pastures elsewhere.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured that. But, it doesn’t really matter. It was more that I didn’t want to end up on West City’s most wanted criminal list if I left the place in a literal blaze of glory.”

He laughs at that and slaps my back.

“Fuck, you wouldn’t have had to worry! My mom’s got great lawyers. How do think dad managed to stay out of prison whenever he destroyed something in the city because he’d get pissed off?”

“No offense Trunks, but I highly doubt a prison would be able to contain your dad. I know he’s a good guy and all, but I don’t have any doubts he’d use his ki blasts to break out.”

“True enough.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes before Trunks decides to speak up.

“So, do you need help finding a job? Like I’ve told you before, I could get you a really nice position at Capsule. It wouldn’t have to be in sales, either. You do have a bachelor’s degree in communications, not that that really matters.”

“Umm, well about that…I actually already have a job lined up.”

He narrows his eyes a bit and takes in a deep breath. I don’t know if he’s irritated because I refused his offer of a job working at Capsule once again or because I actually managed to find something myself without coming to him for help. Either way, his irrationality over me getting a job has been one of the sticking points in our relationship, and I still can’t understand why he continues to take my lack of interest or desire to work at Capsule in a non-existent position so personally. My stomach bottoms out slightly when I think about what he’ll say when he hears the job I’ve taken and what my plans are.

“Where are you working? At that Centrix place you applied at?”

Centrix? He remembered that I had applied there? That had been months ago.

“No. I’m going to be an assistant activities director for the West City Boys and Girls Club.”

Silence. Glancing upward, towards Trunks’ face, I can see he wasn’t expecting that answer at all. Waving my hand in front of it, he suddenly snaps his head away and grabs my arm.

“What?! Whoa, hang on a second…I’m missing something here. What would possess you to ever go back to that place with the screaming kids, where half of them still shit in their own pants? That place…you could get a way better job working behind a desk at Capsule. So why won’t you ever take me up on an offer? Do you like making yourself miserable at those jobs you take? Are you that much of a masochist?”

Yanking my arm out of his grip, I grit my teeth and slowly form my hands into fists.

“Because…it wouldn’t be a job and you know it. I can’t do that to you or your mom. And I don’t like making myself miserable. I just want to prove to everybody that I don’t need everyone looking out for me like I’m two years old. For God’s sake Trunks, would you like it if every time you tried to do something, you had people offering to help you at every turn of the way like you’re incapable of being independent? Why can’t you understand that I’m trying to prove I can be just as successful as…as you? And who said that I hated working at the boys and girls club? As I recall, you were the one who thought working there was a joke because it was something you would never do. Well, I’m not you Trunks. I liked working there. And this new job will pay comparable to what I was making for Nezumi. It’s an administrative position, a respectable job.”

Standing up, I kick some of his dirty clothes and magazines out of the way as I stride away, trying to put what else I want to tell him in words and terms he can understand. Turning around to face him, I push my fists into my pockets before I let the rest of my news out.

“And while we’re on this topic, I’m going back to school to become a teacher.”

As I expect, he bursts out laughing.

“You, a teacher? You could barely pass high school, and you struggled for almost six years before you graduated from community college. How the hell are you going to teach?”

I close my eyes and try to keep my frustration at bay. It doesn’t help that I had those same doubts in my head when Gohan was fishing for information about going back to school. However, I’ve since decided that even if it’s a difficult path, I can become what I want and that I’m smarter than most people give me credit for. True, I still have my own doubts about that, but I’ve come to a point in my own life where self-doubt can’t be a part of it anymore because all it does is hold me back.

“I’m quite aware that school wasn’t easy for me. Sure, I didn’t graduate with a 4.0, but I did make it. And I can do it again if I put my heart into it.”

“You’re…serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. Why would I joke about something like this? I just thought I’d tell you because I’ve always told you things first. I just wish you’d give me the courtesy to not make fun of my choices just because they aren’t something you would do. In case you haven’t realized it by now, I’m not you.”

He blinks at me owlishly, as if that thought had never crossed his mind. And maybe it hasn’t. Until recently, I had never given it much thought myself. We’ve always done things together, and for the majority of my life, I just followed Trunks’ example because he was my closest friend and I…I idolized him. The most painful part of everything that’s been happening these past few years is how much I’ve come to rely on him for my own self-validation. Now that I’ve actively started to assert some autonomy away from him, it’s as though he’s never realized how much he relied on me for the very same purpose. And the truth is, I still want to be close to Trunks. Not as the easily duped and manipulated sidekick, but as his equal. And deep down inside, I want so much more than that. If he would just sit back and examine things, he’d probably realize it himself. He understands me the way no one else could, and the same could be said for me as well, yet there is this potential for growth that both terrifies me and excites me. If only…if only he would just…see.

“Goten…I didn’t mean it like that. Why are we like this, huh? Why do we always have to fight?”

Now it’s my turn to blink at him in surprise. He wants to know what the problem is? Well, there isn’t an easy answer for that. Shrugging my shoulders, I act like I have no idea, when in truth, I think it’s just because we’re struggling to find our own self-identities and the truth of what our lives hold for us is scary. But even I don’t know the reason because the only way to discover it would be to have a serious heart to heart chat with Trunks about all the things that have been bothering me about him, about us, and that will never happen with the way he’s been acting lately.

I watch as he lies back on his bed, his face pointed towards the ceiling, he eyes tightly closed against the blurry light allowed into the dim interior of the room.

“If you really want to be a teacher, than…than good for you. It’s just…I’ve never really imagined you doing something like that. Maybe it’s because I have thought of you like you’re my twin. But…I guess you are right. We aren’t the same. We haven’t been for a while. Sometimes, I really miss the old you, Goten. The one who wasn’t so concerned about doing the right thing and being responsible. You make me look bad, Chibi.”

I don’t say anything about that comment. Taking my hands out of my pockets, I decide it’s time to leave. There isn’t anything left to say and Trunks needs to sleep off his drunken hangover. Accidentally stepping on a crumpled porn magazine, it crunches underfoot, alerting Trunks to my departure.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yeah.”

Moving towards the doorway, I hear Trunks swear under his breath before he lurches off of his bed and stumbles to the adjacent bathroom, tripping over dirty clothes and debris before finally making it.

He’s puking. In the toilet. I can hear each and every wretch, and it bothers me to listen to his body rejecting the alcohol he consumed late last night and well into the morning. Tightening my mouth, I pivot around and exit his room, searching out for the guest bathroom. Finding it, I switch on the light and open a cupboard, pulling out a towel and a washcloth. As soon as I finish dampening the cloth, I leave the bathroom and head toward his kitchen where I grab a pot. Slowly, I make my way back to his bedroom, only to find him sprawled across his bed, panting slightly, flecks of saliva and vomit on his pale lips.

“I thought you left,” he replies weakly from the bed.

Stepping towards the bed, I stand next to the edge, my knees touching the mattress. Making a decision, I crawl over him and settle myself next to his body. Taking the damp washcloth, I wipe away the puke on his face and hand him the basin, which he gratefully takes and places next to his head.

“I can’t leave you when you’re puking your guts out. What if you accidentally chocked on it or something?”

“Sick,” he mutters before letting out a tremendous yawn.

Slowly, his eyes flutter shut and his body relaxes into the pillows. Pulling away from him slightly, I search the bed for a blanket that doesn’t look like it has too many stains of god knows what on it. Not finding any, I shift on the bed and lay crosswise, examining the floor before finding what I’m looking for. Grabbing the blanket, I flip it over Trunks, who mumbles a thank you. Crossing my legs, I sink into the soft mattress and find myself buttressed up against Trunks hip. We’re so close, I could lean over and brush his hair out of his face and then kiss him on the forehead. Slowly, I start tilting down in that general direction before my brain catches up with me. Jerking backwards slightly, I stiffen with a realization that isn’t new.

I really would like to kiss him. Just once. And not in a chaste way either. The way he kisses the girls he meets up with at the bars. The way he licks their outer lips before slyly making his way inside their mouth, teasing the inside with his own tongue. Nipping, biting, hot…I want what they’ve had.

…

I really am gay…at least for my best friend, that is…and maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.

But, my waking fantasies will probably never become a reality. Even though I really can’t deny the attraction I feel for Trunks, which I know stems from our long standing relationship, there is no way that I would allow myself to become like one of those girls, to be used and tossed aside. I guess, in my own way, I’m an old fashioned sort of guy and you just don’t screw around with people unless it’s a committed relationship with feelings that go far and beyond simple lust. Trunks isn’t ready for that and even if he was, what would he think if I told him of my apparent and very real attraction towards him? I’m too afraid to find out. So it will just have to remain a secret, maybe until I die.

Sighing, I push those particular thoughts out of my head as I slowly sink down into the cushiness of his bed, stretching my body out beside his.

“Chibi?”

“Hmmm?” I whisper.

“Why can’t I find somebody like you?”

Blinking, I glance over towards him.

“What do you mean?”

“You…you put up with me and you accept me for who I am, faults and everything. I don’t have to pretend around you, and you aren’t after money, fame, or power. You’re just you and you like me for me. Except…”

He stops mid-sentence and moves his head back and forth against his pillow, making his hair even more of a mess.

“Never mind.”

I want to ask him what he was going to stay, but I know when not to push my luck.

“Remember that promise we made when we were like ten and eleven years old? The one where we would never leave each other and stay together forever?”

That comment takes me by surprise. I can vaguely recall promising something like that when we were playing outside near my parents house and got separated somehow. It wasn’t anything major, but for some reason, Trunks had been really shook up about it and so we promised to always be together, no matter what. We swore to each other under the tree next to our secret spot by the lake. It was a childhood promise, nothing more. Something easily forgotten as life moves inexhaustibly forward, shaping and molding the paths we are eventually to take up. I had treated it as such, but apparently Trunks had not.

“Yeah, I remember it. Why?”

“Do you still…will you be with me ten or twenty years down the road?”

I nod my head yes and try to reassure him.

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m losing you, Chibi. You’re leaving me behind and I can’t catch up. Now you’re going to go off to school and you’ll meet someone. You’ll forget all about me.”

I have no idea where he’s getting these ideas from, but his words strike a resonance within me because I have thought the same thing about Trunks. He’s moving away from me and soon, he won’t be my Trunks any longer.

Pushing my hand under the blanket, I find Trunks’ cold one and wrap my fingers around it.

“Trunks, I swear to you that I will never leave you. I…promise. No matter what happens, I’ll always be there for you.”

It’s a serious commitment and part of me balks over my choice of words. How can I make such a promise when the circumstances between us seem so tenuous? Yet I know that I meant every word I just uttered. I…love him, as a friend. Maybe part of the problem is due to the fact that I want to extend that love, only just realizing that facet which has probably been looking me in the face for the last couple of years. It seems so fucking impossible.

Squeezing his hand, I’m surprised when he squeezes back.

“Thanks…Chibi. That’s…it’s just what I needed to hear.”

I watch as he drifts off to sleep before I slowly get out of the bed. Pulling the covers tight around his body, I trace his face with my index finger, stopping on his chin before taking my hand away. Backing up, I leave his room and then his apartment, flying back to my own place to think about how everything is going to change once more.

I only hope we can survive it together, even with that promise binding me to him

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I hope you liked the chapter! Next chapter, Goten’s adjusting to his new job and finds out if he’s going to school or not. And Trunks is…Trunks! Also, please be kind and review if you would like. Tell me if you like how it’s going, or if there is a direction you think it needs to go in! Thanks so much!