Trunks glared down into his coffee, watching the cream twirl within the dark liquid, never having been stirred. It wound around itself, spinning in large, complex clouds; its own little dance it seemed. But in truth, he didn't even notice the mesmerizing display, his mind in entirely different places. Mirai just watched him in quiet contemplation, eyes lowered in thought.
To the untrained eye, one would believe that Trunks was mildly irritated, pouting perhaps. His sculpted eyebrows were turned slightly downwards, smooth, tan skin lightly squinted around his nose. His prettily shaped lips were pursed into a tight bow and his tantalizing, blue eyes never moved from their position in the coffee cup. Yet Mirai knew that what Trunks had witnessed was, in a word, wounding. Pride shattered and heart bruised, Trunks would never admit it openly that what he'd seen had even effected him. He'd spoken not a word since more or less refusing to continue the "exercise", stating only that he had a pounding headache and that Mirai's "confounded fucking contraption" had made him nauseous.
The part that only Mirai knew for certain was that while the side effects MIGHT have included the slightest of headaches, nausea was a distinct impossibility. So more or less, while he hid any contentment that might have registered physically, inside he could only smile in satisfaction. One way or another, the test had been an unparalleled success. More then he could have even expected.
"Mind if I borrow that chair?" A man asked Trunks, pointing at Mirai and shaking the youth out of his stuppor.
Trunks just looked up at the middle aged man that had interrupted his thought process, and glared. Taking the hint, the brunette quickly sauntered off to ask someone else. "What a moron," Mirai rolled his eyes. "There are a thousand free chairs in this stupid little diner. Why the hell would he think he could take mine? People." He sighed.
But Trunks had hardly heard a word of it, eyes buried again in their position. He didn't even mind the imploring and scrutinizing look that he knew was plastered all over Mirai's face. Was it worth pretending he didn't give a shit? Was it even worth the effort when any half assed attempts would probably just make him look like a bigger fool for it? Yeah, he'd been bothered by what he saw. Yeah, he had remembered everything so differently and now, having witnessed it all over again, it had felt .... upsetting. He couldn't deny that. He'd tried for a few moments but had long since stopped trying to fool Mirai and even longer before, stopped trying to fool himself.
He felt like someone with steel-toed boots had just rammed one right into his ball sack. Yes, he couldn't even think of a better way to put it. He was now more asexual than he could ever recall being, four year olds undoubtedly having bigger sex drives. Yes, like a swift kick to the groin, he felt constantly like he was about to vomit, only a few minutes before having been able to even breathe normally. Everything felt shaky, everything felt insecure. For God's sake, if even his memories could fail him now, of what use was the world? Everything felt fake and false and eerie.
But rather than predictably thinking about Goku, it was Goten's face that continuously plagued his thoughts. The swirling coffee in his vision was but a background for syrupy, chocolate colored eyes. Eyes that had once looked up to him with pride and even idolism. Eyes that had long ago been the first thing he'd seen in the mornings and the last thing he'd seen at night. And the eyes that had closed when Goten had said goodbye for the very last time.
Trunks moved his hand from off the table top, seeing that it had begun to shake. He'd never blamed Goten for that decision. Hell, he'd more or less helped the younger man make it. It now seemed in his mind, like someone else's life; like someone else's emotions. Happiness that had filled him so entirely at the time he now could only taste sporadically through drugs. Happiness probably cooked up in someone's bathtub in Tijuana. Had everything been so wonderful then? Or was that just another memory distorted through time and that would probably fail him if he had to relive it through Mirai's horrific contraption?
He closed his own eyes, momentarily taken to a different place; momentarily free of the pain that lingered in that time. He could hear Goten's laughter in his ears, the same laughter that hadn't ever seemed to change. He could feel warm rays of the sun that they'd bathed in as children, taking naps together in fields far far away from anyone else. He guessed that that was how everything between them had always felt... far far away from everyone else in the world. Or perhaps, their own separate world completely.
He recalled times that felt so fleeting now, when their only cares were getting into mischief and then somehow getting out. Goten had been his only real friend in the whole wide world. He'd been all that mattered it seemed. When they'd fused together what was now so long ago, Trunks had felt .... He couldn't even accept what he'd felt that day. A completeness where he'd never even realized there was emptiness. Contentment, kindness, happiness. So many "ness"s. He'd known at the time that every wonderful feeling that had filled him was Goten's; the ecstasy of what heaven must feel like. And as quickly as he'd been filled up with it, it was gone just like that.
It was that moment that Trunks had felt things shatter around him. He'd never felt so lonely in his entire lifetime as he did when he would unfuse with Goten. The fusion itself had become his first real addiction, his first taste of a drug. But the more he indulged in it, the worse the 'coming down' became. Because with knowledge and time, he'd understood that what he was feeling was only a borrowed happiness. That "glimpse of heaven" was Goten's lifeforce, what Goten experienced every day. So why not Trunks? What was missing in Trunks that Goten had once described as "an endless sense of emptiness"? Why was the fusion HIS greatest experience and Goten's most horrifying?
Times scattered through Trunks mind like memories on a rapid wind. The time when Goten had finally refused the fusion technique, crying out that he simply couldn't handle the terrifying effect it had over him. When he'd claimed that he'd never felt so lonely or cold as when he'd been a part of Trunks' body. The time when Trunks had had his first taste of man-made happiness, the smallest kiss of what he'd experienced with Goten. The times when he could hardly even recognize his own best friend, so intoxicated and overwhelmed with his artificial 'happiness'.
And finally, the time when they'd both been old enough, when his injected 'happiness' had been forgotten and he felt once more what he had so long ago; not as a result of the fusion but simply as a result of holding Goten in his arms. His face had stung from the slap he'd well deserved but when he'd grabbed his old friend up in a crushing hug, it was forgotten. Maybe that had been the key thing - everything was forgotten.
Everything was forgotten for so long that one day, it seemed Trunks realized, HE'D been forgotten. In the delirium of Goten's borrowed world, Trunks had forgotten his own. The contentment of life with Goten had cost him the identity that he'd strove so hard for. It had been an endless vacation but never the reality that Trunks knew one way or another he would have to one day return to. Maybe that's what made things easier for him; maybe that's why so slyly, he'd begun to stray from Goten. Maybe that's why he began to cheat, to indulge in his drug addiction once more.
Because it was easier to walk out of paradise then to be cast out.
"You poured color into my life Trunks," Goten had said that day so long ago. "You made everything more beautiful."
Funny, Trunks had bitterly thought. Because the day he'd left, the day he'd watched Goten fly off, was the day he returned to his ugliness; to his world that now smelled of rot and cinders; the world where everything tasted like ashes.
And every day since, he'd dreamed of that happiness.... shared so long ago in a world, far far away.
Trunks looked up from the coffee cup, swallowing hard before he nodded.
"Ok," he breathed in a steady voice. "I'm ready."
...............................................
Trunks had barely spoken a word as the world around them melted away with a click of Mirai's button, revealing a simple shopping mall. He'd watched silently as the memory commenced, the air becoming still, the scent of new fabrics and tile floors reaching his nostrils. Racks of clothing stretched across the lavish store, revealing him, nonchalantly sorting through them. Trunks gazed at the vision of himself, the beautiful body adorned in a rather tight fitting black turtleneck, each expensive line of the fabric clutching to his impressive pectorals. Yes, in all his dwelling, Trunks had to crack a small smile.
"Man," he grinned momentarily, glancing over towards Mirai. "I would fuck me."
Mirai rolled his eyes, letting a tiny smile appear as he nodded.
"No wonder you want to 'save me' Mirai," Trunks smirked even wider. "God DAMN we're gorgeous!"
Cutting short the awkward humor, Mirai was nearly knocked to the ground as flying debris and concrete soared towards both their heads. Upon instinct, all three Trunks' dove towards the ground, though only one was in any danger. Sheet rock and twisted metal flew over their heads, pieces falling down and scattering over their bodies.
Both blushed in embarrassment for having dodged invisible objects, Mirai and Trunks laughing at each other before standing up and dusting off imaginary dust.
"Vivid memory you got there," Mirai swallowed, eyes darting around him.
"Yeah," Trunks laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Tell that to the piss running down my pant leg."
Both sets of eyes returned to the scene before them, Mirai's blood running cold. There in a large, gapping hold in the wall, Gohan stood, a burning mass of fury and power. His clothes singed from the raw energy that cackled like lightening around him, pieces of handsome blue fabric dwindling in the air before dissipating from the heat. Mirai had to take a step back whether or not the vision of the memory could harm him. The very look in Gohan's eyes was enough to almost physically push him backwards, the young man's dull, haunting gaze anything but sane. He realized in that very moment that he hadn't the faintest clue what he'd actually been expecting. Had he thought that Gohan would arrive calmly as ever, kindly asking Trunks to "step outside" like a civilized brute? Would the young man, overwhelmed by such bruising news of his father's downfall be so stoic about it? What had he thought!? That after hearing the unthinkable that Gohan would appear here asking questions for God's sake?!
Yet, it was as if Mirai wasn't even gazing at the same man he'd only encountered earlier that week. Hadn't Mirai been damn near raised by this man in his own timeline? How many years had he traced each line of that beautiful, kind face and NEVER seen it masked so horrifyingly?
Trunks seemed altogether unfazed, just watching as Gohan stood amongst the chaos of his own making, men and women and children scattering in all screaming directions. Pittering away from the unpredictable like ants fleeing the hill; insects, worthless and virtually helpless. Gohan stood there, eyes void of anything but fury. It seemed as though his body had ceased to become that of a young husband and father and instead, had converted into a shell for fire itself. Gohan was burning. Suddenly the innocence, the kindness, the goodness, all the wonderful attributes that had seemed to MAKE Gohan were vacant and a blood thirsty expression was all that remained. This wasn't Mirai's Gohan; this wasn't even the sorrowful echo he'd met with days before.
Perhaps, the horror of it was, that this... THIS...was the real Gohan.
"Holy....shit." Was all that Mirai could breathe, clothing racks and loose objects flying past.
"You expected something different?" Trunks glanced over towards him.
Mirai didn't even reward him with an answer, turning back to watch the scene as he promised himself he would, regardless of whether or not he really wanted to.
"Trunks," Gohan seethed through clenched teeth, eyes landing on the selfish, beautiful monster that regarded him with less then impressed acknowledgement.
"That hardly seemed necessary," The prince rolled his eyes. "I just bought this fucking shirt."
He eyed his torn sleeve irritably, entirely missing it when Gohan seemed to vanish into thin air, reappearing with his fist ingrained in Trunks' cheek. Blood and saliva sprayed into the air, the gorgeous shirt now the least of the younger man's worries. Mirai and Trunks BOTH had to look away as what ensued was quite probably the most vicious beating either one of them had ever encountered. Trunks most of all winced, face contorted in disgust and probably even fear at having to recall what had been so long just a foggy memory. Mirai was focused only on the savagery with which Gohan attacked Trunks. There was no real rhyme or reason behind his attacks; no pattern or technique. What occurred was blind rage, fists swinging wildly and landing against soft, bleeding skin. Occasionally, in all his fury, Gohan would simply connect his knuckles to the concrete and tile beneath, the sickening sounds of bones cracking making him look away.
"I had no idea what this would be like," he swallowed down the bile. "It unnerves me that I'm making you relive this."
Trunks glanced over at the almost apologetic look that had overwhelmed Mirai's features.
"This?" he laughed with little humor. "I hardly even recall this part. Gohan quite literally knocked the sense OUT of me. I'm truly impressed that this could even be so vivid as I don't even remember when he'd first started attacking me and when he'd quit. I just recall what was left in the mirror not having been... so comely to look upon later."
Mirai just shook his head, instinctively trying to dodge when stray stream of blood flew right towards him. At this point, Trunks had made no move to either defend himself or even strike back, simply laying beneath Gohan as the other worked out what must have been a lifetime's worth of frustration.
"I grew up with that man," Mirai cringed. "And never once did I see him like this. Never once in all his frustrations and failures did he lose it quite like this."
"Of course not," Trunks sighed, crossing his arms. "Your Gohan was a real person."
Mirai finally tore his eyes from the scene, looking over towards Trunks quizzically.
"That," Trunks nodded his head towards Gohan. "that is the real Gohan. Before then? Please."
"I'm not getting what you mean," Mirai replied kindly. "Are you saying before this that... Gohan was a fake?"
"Do I really need to even expound?" Trunks raised his eyebrow. "How often have people accused me of refusing to embrace my human side? How often has father probably accused you of not embracing your "saiyan" side?" Mirai had to grin just slightly, having heard those exact words countless times when he and Vegeta had trained for a year in that horrible room.
"Gohan though," Trunks continued. "Gohan never embraced either one. Never accepting that he was Saiyan, he was never human either. Gohan, my beautiful, my perfect, my walking fiction. Everything about his entire life is and was a lie. He was the fantastical fiction from the day he was born. Gohan, the straight, intelligent, perfect son of the single greatest hero of all fucking time! Yet we both know damn good and well that Gohan was always gay. We also know that his supposed "endless endeavor for intellect" was one big fuckin fiasco to keep his wretched mother at bay. So what did that make of him? All he had in the world was the one basis for life. That Goku, his father, his hero... would never fail him."
They both turned their attention quickly over towards Gohan who had quite literally punched Trunks through an entire building, his body soaring through the air. Gohan was instantly on him, wrapping steely fingers around a thick, corded throat and flying them both through the air on a destination to God knows where.
"Goku DID fall though," Mirai breathed, beginning to understand this.
"Right down to his fucking knees," Trunks smiled somewhat cruelly, but without the usual fire behind it. "Everything about Gohan's entire life was a farce and as he saw it, his entire identity was a huge lie. But HIS identity was also upheld by the undefeatable reputation of his father. So when the great hero finally displayed some fucking mortality.... it crushed Gohan's entire world."
Mirai watched as they were taken through the air, their feet never leaving the ground as Gohan ripped both their bodies through the sky. Where was this destination that only he could know of? Where was he taking his most hated captive? Mirai's eyes scanned Trunks for the time being, the face that could have spawned a thousand pictures remaining unreadable as always.
Trees and seas and lands and skies it seemed past beneath them, yet the flawless face remained captive to the two bodies that soared at breakneck pace over them. What could the youth be thinking of, Mirai had to wonder. What countless things could have crossed a once thought to be conscienceless mind? Was that the human flaw in himself? That Mirai would forever be the stereotypical, one of the thousands that had gazed upon Trunks' face and come to the crude conclusion that there was nothing behind it? Was that why so many would let themselves fall prey to the beauty? Never suspecting the monster behind the mask?
Gohan in the meantime had hurled Trunks' body to the ground, the earth as they'd seen it suddenly changed. Where there had been a million buildings and possibly countless innocents and pedestrians, there remained now only trees and dirt and beautiful waterfalls. A sort of paradise that comes to mind when one reads Genesis in the bible.
Gorgeous, clear water fell lazily down long falls, jungle-like plants lining the picturesque pond in colors the human dictionary does not contain words for. Mountains and trees that a modern day painter could fall in love with day after day yet never give any true justice in his work. An exquisite landscape, untouched by the pollution of mankind. Places you could see on a postcard and hardly believe existed in such a world.
Trunks had fallen to the ground, Gohan pinning him down with his legs straddling the younger man. The red coating of pressurize blood vessels around Gohan's eyes created the perfect look of absolute madness. Veins crowded around his temples and his neck was strained as he wrapped cold, iron fingers around the younger Saiyan's throat. All in all, the two were the greatest contradiction to the paradise surrounding them. His teeth made a gritting noise as saliva and blood dripped from his mouth, his gums bleeding with the force. Everytime panted breath seeped through the rows of his teeth, blood and spit would spray down on the young face beneath him. Trunks' eyes were glazing over with blood vessels, blinking horribly as he stared upwards.
His hands were rimmed with pumping veins as he gripped Gohan's wrists, struggling to free his throat. Yet even when his nails dug into the tawny skin, blood gushing over them, Gohan didn't stop. Trunks threw his head back against the ground, eyes rolling upwards as his thick lips turned purple, the cords of muscle in his throat sticking out as he pleaded for air. The heels of his shoes dug frantically against the dirt, his back arching upwards.
Choking sounds made Mirai's stomach fluctuate with nausea, his eyes darting around to avoid having to see one of the greatest men he'd ever known choking the life from Trunks.
The picture of the two in itself was perhaps the most psychologically upsetting scene he'd had to witness since returning. Gohan, who had been his love, his teacher, his father, his fucking everything, in a sense, killing HIM right before his own eyes. He constantly had to remind himself of the circumstances, of the obvious differences. Yet the horror of witnessing such remained the same.
"Why?!" Gohan was screaming through his teeth, his hands shaking as he closed them closer and closer around the windpipe. "Why him?! Why her? Why me?!"
He was stuttering at an uncontrollable pace, every breath shaking and every word sporadic and incoherent. Mirai strove to make sense of what Gohan was screaming, of what words could condone the behavior he was displaying towards a man that had up until this point, not even tried to fight back.
Yet, in that, Mirai found a great mystery. As silent, as unreadable as Trunks was, there was an unavoidable presence to him. There was strength and not only sexually behind the skilled eyes and intimidating figure.
So why hadn't the young man fought back? He had not yet lost consciousness, his cold, cruel eyes staring upwards as Gohan choked the life from his lungs. Yet he hadn't made even the slightest move. No defense what-so-ever. Why not? Why did it strike Mirai as suddenly... that Trunks didn't have any desire to fight for his life?
"God damn it!" Gohan kept screaming, finally collapsing to the ground next to Trunks unmoving figure. "Why can't you feel? Why don't you care?! FEEL you STUPID FUCK!!"
Suddenly, Mirai felt himself nearly stumble backwards, Trunks' breath catching in his lungs as though he hadn't recalled this part.
Gohan's fingers were now embedded in Trunks' chest, the fingernail entirely disappeared as blood spurted into the Son's immaculate face. Gohan's eyes were alight as though they were someone else's entirely, his teeth gleaming as he smiled sadistically. Mirai had to grab ahold of Trunks' arm, swallowing down bile as though he couldn't even recognize this blood thirsty creature any longer. Blood poured into Gohan's wide open eyes, though he never even attempted to blink it out, apparently having gotten the reaction he'd been desiring. The body beneath him suddenly squirmed to life, hands desperately trying to tear the two fingers out of his chest.
Trunks eyes were wide, staring in disbelief at the pain that went surging through his entire system, nearly paralyzing him. He let out a choked gasp, feeling the skin stretch and tear when Gohan's fingers pushed harder and deeper. Sinewy strands of veins and muscle split, blood spraying into Gohan's face as he smiled downwards.
"You feel that Trunks," Gohan was panting as he curiously moved them about, pressing almost through the ribcage. "You feel that pain brat prince?"
It was as if Trunks had finally awoken from his dream, screaming, legs bending as he tried to push himself away from Gohan. Gohan though was in his element, eyes sparkling as he indulged in what he could only imagine was the ultimate aphrodisiac, feeling the slippery bone structure and the feverish pounding from the heart so close beneath the pads of his fingertips.
"You feel this?" Gohan suddenly cupped the back of Trunks' neck, pushing his fingers through the bone, the sickening crack making him smile. "This is how you make me feel every fucking day."
The deeper the fingernails dug, the closer they came to piercing Trunks' heart. The gorgeous, purple hair was flailing about he tied desperately to protect it; that heart that no one even knew existed, the heart that pumped blood, coursed it never ending to animate a body that no one could even imagine felt pain or hurt or anything at all.
And now? That body was surging with energy, with the will to live as it has ceased to for only a moment. Trunks' hand suddenly wrapped itself around Gohan's, instantaneously crushing the fingers in its grasp. The sound of bones crunching and breaking against one another permeated the air, Gohan's eyes suddenly alight with recognition of what was happening. All the numb, psychotic detachment left his eyes as his fingers turned to what can be described as only mush and gore, falling to the side as he screamed.
The sound was heart stopping, every pain, every hate, every rage and every lie tearing its way through his vocal cords in a hoarse, bloody sound. Gohan toppled over, cradling his hand against his chest as he sobbed out the indescribable, cursing Trunks with every breath. The words escaping his mouth were incoherent screams, swears and vengeful promises coursing through his lips.
"Fuck!" he cried. "You soulless fuck!"
Trunks stood, coldly taking to his feet and staring down at the fallen warrior. His eyes blazed with promises that were soon to be carried out, turning from their harsh blue to a haunting clear white as his hair flew into the air and became blonde. The transformation itself was as always, fear inspiring. Gohan could only look upwards between his panted gasps, Trunks' frozen eyes staring down in mock pity.
"How could you?!" Gohan screamed in a hoarse voice. "How could you take him from me?!"
Trunks' hand was suddenly around his throat, hoisting him weightlessly into the air. He suspended the other Saiyan before his eyes, watching each emotion play out for him as though it was some sort of entertainment, a movie to be pondered and soon forgotten later on.
"My hero," Gohan began to bawl with tearless eyes. "My fucking everything!!"
"Your lie." Trunks' voice said simply. "Your beautiful fucking lie."
With that, Gohan's body was thrown through the trees, a wrecking ball thrown at unparrelled speeds through the immaculate scenery. Trees were burned with the mere speed that his force crushed through them with, the large foliage in his way more or less dissipated by his body. Gohan's head was the first to land, plummeting through large bushes and finally digging into the dirt that basically buried him.
Mirai's eyes darted towards the living Trunks, gazing at the unreadable expression that met him. It was as if both were watching an entirely different being commit this atrocity, the justifiable vengeance of Gohan laid to waste only too easily by the golden haired creature that had been so passive at first. Trunks merely shrugged once more, turning away from Mirai's accusing stare.
Yet Mirai gazed a little longer, wondering if... as he was witnessing this for the first time, it wasn't as if, in a sense, Trunks was as well.
Gohan in the meantime had pulled himself from the early 'grave', throwing off weeds and dirt that had ground themselves into his scalp. His face was toiled with confusion and anger, his mouth in a hard scowl. Rather than flying, he coolly walked towards Trunks, his head down in silent contemplation, his face hard. Mirai took the moment to admire the young man, how alike, yet different he truly was from his father. Age in a Saiyan was never something they could wear on a face, for each was timeless despite being polluted by human blood. There was nothing in a Saiyan's skin but the scars from battle that would tell you where he's been or how long he was there.
Even the eyes, despite the characteristics, spoke only moderate tales of the years behind them. Yet oddly enough, Gohan would forever look the older brother of his own father. Perhaps, as Trunks had said, living a lie could age a man. How much stress and work was put into each movement of each day? How many smiles did he fake in one afternoon, or how many sweet lullybys did he drown out to a daughter he didn't really even like? How many kisses, how many intimate moments did he nauseate his way through every week?
And how many unhealable bruises could such a secret inflict on the inside of a man?
Gohan now solemnly stood on the otherside of a what could be considered a sort of swamp or pond, his arms crossed hard over his pectorals. His eyes were planted on Trunks' face, the harsh contours, so like that of Goku's promising anything but the mercy his father repeatedly bestowed. Perhaps that was one of the gifts that only ChiChi's blood could provide him. Where Goku's influence would teach him only to use his power for goodness and to protect, the human blood that surged in his veins dilluted that thinking. Yes, the human obsession with power and the vengence that could be carried out with it.
Gohan's eyes were like two steel marbles in his head, unmoving, unblinking as he slowly put one foot over the water, the other soon following as his energy hoisted him over the surface. The movement and sheer spectacle of such a beautiful figure walking on water was both inspiring and intimidating. The glassy surface hardly moved as Gohan's feet touched and left, tiny ripples the only proof that he'd been there at all.
Stopping in the middle of the pond, Gohan's gaze never wavered as he lifted his arms to the side, his energy pulling some of the water upwards in two large waves. Mirai could sense the ki building around the eldest son, the branches of trees slowly seeming to face towards him, plants being uprooted as the power built and sucked them towards it. Pieces of his tight, black undershirt were being singed, revealing tears over his chest and stomach. The gleaming, white skin, so much more like his mother's, peered out, delicately stretched over a flawless body and dramatically chiseled abs.
The water was quickly parted until it became like The Red Sea of the bible, fish frantically swimming as they were sucked upwards and thrown back down by the power that stood on recently dried ground directly in the middle. Gohan's cheeks began to shake, eyes red rimmed and focused only on his most hated enemy, Trunks. Mirai could only shiver in excitement and fear, the wind whipping trees and rocks and even water through the air past them. The sky itself began to roll above, the sun being hidden behind black cumulous clouds.
Mirai was in awe, arms wrapped around himself as Gohan's deep, dark power unleashed itself. The living deity. The breathing mortal with Godlike strenght.
And just as suddenly as something so beautiful was erected, two enormous waves of power were blasted from Gohan's hands, the earth on either side of him in the direct path. The world rose and shook, the entire scene vibrating violently. The waves of distruction purged the land for miles away, where there had been wild life and mother nature's beauty, there was now the scent of burned corpses and roasted earth. The very soil was blackened and embers burned where there had once been picturesque perfection.
Gohan's eyes, despite the horrors of the world around him, were shocking enough to take all the attention from Mirai. So furious was his power that tears from Gohan's very eyes were disappating right before his face. Steam rose over his forehead, sweat and tears bursting into the air.
"This new desire to live won't save you," Gohan promised, eyes dark as he lowered his arms. "I've overlooked your trespassing's before. I blame myself for that. Forgive me.." He stammered only slightly for a second, glancing down. "Forgive me for seeing something in you that could only be found in a different person entirely."
He righted himself.
"But you're not him Trunks. You couldn't be him and you never will be him. You're cold. You're already dead. And as I see it, my brat prince..." A cruel grin spread across his face, transforming him into a different being entirely. His hair shot upwards, the white blonde matching Trunks'. "You've only been waiting for the opportunity for someone to put you in the ground."
As though he had instantly transferred himself, Gohan had thrown Trunks against the sides of a still-standing waterfall, his back colliding painfully against the sharp rocks. Blood dashed down behind him, diluted only by drips of water that cascaded around them. Gohan only pushed harder, his teeth bared as he heard the sound of flesh breaking against stone. Trunks' face though, remained as stoic as always, clear eyes burning into his attacker's.
Grabbing the side of Gohan's face, he plunged the other side against the rock wall, blood ricocheting into his eyes. Teeth shattered and Gohan's cheek was slashed from both sides, parts of mollars flying out between his smashed lips. The muffled cry was enough to awaken Trunks' most primal senses, his tongue coming out to lick the blood that had poured against his mouth, spraying like a crimson mist.
Gohan whipped his body backwards, biting down the pain and swallowing his teeth before throwing his hand out, palm facing Trunks' nose before unleashing all hell against the immaculate face. The white fire blasted the other's body nearly a mile in the other direction, the scent of burning flesh taunted his instincts, every fiber in his being suddenly awakened with a simple goal... to slaughter, to purge, to end; ... To ruin something beautiful.
Blood and sweat and pained tears were flung into the air as both attacked without mercy, pushing their limits to the absolute brink before forcing their way there and beyond. Every time the other concluded that there was no where else to go, no further to ascend, they were proved wrong by the harsh reality of a fist flung towards them. Every punch was laced with fire, bruising and burning the skin it connected with. Energy so high created a magma-like touch, the flesh singed and bleeding after coming in contact.
Rock bases crumbled, trees burned to cinders. Air that once tasted polluted free became clouded with sulfur and smoke, poisoning the lungs with every panted breath. Hair and skin and sweat and blood was flung this way and that way, the sound like the screaming in hell; haunting. Cries of pain and rage came like the screams of the dying, the sound of a wet fist smacking against tenderized flesh making Mirai cringe.
"How," he had to ask suddenly, interrupting the all-too-violent scene. "how could you get so strong? I don't understand it."
Trunks seemed almost hesitant to pull his eyes away, looking over at Mirai with irritability dancing in his gaze.
"What do you think?" He spat indignantly. "I was fucking the strongest being of all time for a month straight. Twelve hours a day of straight physically challenging sex and anyone on earth could be damn near invincible."
Both glanced upwards where Gohan and the other Trunks were exchanging blows that could have taken the other's head clean off if either weren't paying close attention. It was odd to think that when it came to the majority of fights Mirai had seen, they were just that; fights. There was technique, there was the exchanging of compliments, of goads, of egos for certain. But it was, mostly, just a game. It was rare to see two ethereal powers battling it out NOT for glory, NOT for the earth, not for any sort of exchange at all. But both fighting for the harshest goals of all; for life and for death.
Everything was more brutal in a fight to the death, Mirai suddenly concluded. All bets were off and nothing, no low aiming, no cruel or salvage moves were considered "against the rules". Because there were no rules. There was nothing that could be considered "dirty". The aim was simple; to hurt, to end. Everything was more animalistic, more savage. The most basic of living instinct, to kill or to be killed.
Classically, they both suddenly landed a punch at the exact same time, both faces flying in opposite directions. The sky suddenly erupted with the impact, an entire wall of rain dashing through the clouds and falling down amongst them. Cinders that still burned from the fight were smothered by the rain, the earth beneath suddenly covered with steam and smoke that rose around them. Everything was now grey and black and red, both of the men burnt and bloody.
"I hate you," Gohan breathed, shoulders rising and falling as he panted, head low. "I fucking hate you."
"Please," Trunks laughed half heartedly. "you hate yourself much more than you could ever hate me."
With those words alone, the fight continued, blasts of gold and white firing up in the sky. Blood would spray, lightening flashing to reveal gleaming teeth and shards of falling flesh plummeting to the world below. The ground would rumble, sheets of rain blasted in all different directions due to the supreme power of the two. Gohan once more had one hand wrapped around Trunks' throat, an enormous, concentrated ki blast with more then enough power to take off the other man's head, building in his palm.
"Do it," Trunks laughed hysterically, spitting a tooth through his blood soaked lips. "I fucking dare you."
Gohan pulled his hand back, about to deliver the final blow when he hesitated just slightly, swallowing hard as he stared into Trunks' eyes. Both of his own darted back and forth, searching the young gaze for something.
"You can't do it, can you pussy boy?" Trunks cracked. "All this time and you can't even do it."
His face was suddenly masked, eyebrows upturned slightly, eyes void of the malice that usually reigned them. His lips turned up slightly, gorgeous face now resembling Mirai completely. The real Mirai suddenly backed up, breath catching in his lungs. The resemblence was uncanny and indisputable. Trunks now looked JUST like Mirai.
"P-please Gohan," He mocked, hands winding around Gohan's that still attached itself to his throat. "What about Cell? What about the androids? I fought by your side! You were my hero! You saved us all!"
"Stop it!" Gohan snapped, pulling his hand away as though he'd been burned. "Shut up!"
"I was coming back for you Gohan," Trunks mocked, sobbing falsely into his hands. "I just needed to save my world first. You were always on my mind, I promise! All that time spent in the chamber with my father? I just wanted to be strong enough for you, I just wanted to be able to save you. Oh Gohan..." He slowly reached out towards the other, eyes bright with mock pain. "I love you. Oh how I love you so much!"
Gohan's face distorted in agony, turning away when Trunks' cruel laughter broke through the air, resounding over the rain and thunder. The laughter was high pitched and to the breaking point of hysterical, making Mirai's blood turn to liquid ice in his veins. Gohan shrunk away from it, hiding his face.
"What Gohan," Trunks approached in a hostile manner. "Did you think it was a secret?! Did you think I wouldn't know?"
Gohan tried to pull away violently when Trunks grabbed his arm, yanking the dark haired Saiyan to his chest.
"Oh, I knew," Trunks deliberately laughed right in his face. "I knew that when you looked at me, all you could see was him. That when you gazed into my face, it was his name you wanted to call me by. Your precious Mirai, your precious little ongoing fantasy."
Gohan tore himself away, snarling viciously.
"Gohan's dirty little secret," Trunks laughed heartily. "Yet I always knew. You can only speak so often about the achievements of one person. Yet you Gohan, you made his every move seem like it was delivered for the good of the world. How often my bedtimes stories consisted of the same old fairytales, the hero, always your beloved Mirai."
Gohan turned away, body shaking with resentment.
"That's why I knew you'd never do it precious," Trunks taunted, moving up behind Gohan and sliding his hand over the exposed torso. "I knew you could never kill me because you'd never kill him."
Gohan turned in that precise moment and buried his knuckles once more against Trunks' smug face, the head spinning sideways before Trunks hand came palm down across Gohan's cheek.
"You act like a bitch Gohan," Trunks grinned through red teeth. "And you're going to get smacked down like one."
Mirai snorted over at Trunks, the other's face still completely unreadable as he watched this chain of events. Mirai didn't know how to take was he was witnessing. Unlike he had expected, Trunks had never rejoiced in his memories, had never goaded or cheered himself on. Mirai had predicted only the most obscene of reactions from the young prince, having planned to be disgusted by the jeers and taunts that would come about. Uninexpectedly, Trunks had merely watched "the show" as he referred to it, calmly answering questions when asked but usually just staying quiet.
Mirai had to sigh slightly at the newest lesson he ought to have learned long before. That Trunks, in all his worldly ways, would NEVER be predictable.
Gohan had in the meantime been buried yet again, Trunks entire wrist covered by the dirt as he held the other under with cold, almost unseeing eyes. Hands flailed about without direction, feet kicking at the free air as lungs were denied it. Trunks seemed unaffected entirely, arm shaking as he struggled to keep the oldest son of his lover at bay, literally drowning him beneath the dark soil. A hand suddenly shot up, thumb digging into the old wound directly over Trunks' heart and forcing him to relinquish his statuesque hold over the other.
As Trunks stood near Mirai watching this happen, his fingers instinctively reached towards the scar that was over his own heart, moving the fabric and fingering it. Mirai watched this odd display, seeing the circular flaw that looked nearly fresh.
Trunks glared, noticing he was being watched.
"Fucker never even healed," He grumbled in a round-about way. "Apparently not even a sensu bean could take care of it."
The memory Trunks had screamed painfully in the meantime, yanking himself away from Gohan who quickly sat upwards, breathing feverishly for air. He toppled over to his stomach, heaving up loads of spit and dirt that had clouded his stomach. His fist pounded against the ground uselessly, his eyes finally releasing the tears that he'd held back for nearly a lifetime. He just collapsed against the burnt soil, bawling against his own vomit and saliva that still dripped from his mouth. Blood gashes were burned with fresh, salty tears as he just sobbed against the earth.
"Why?" he bawled, his shoulders shaking violently. "Why couldn't you have spared him that? Why couldn't you have left him with me?"
Trunks had since stood, as proud and untouched as ever, watching his opponent.
"He was my hero," Gohan screamed, fist punching through the ground. "He was the only thing that made sense!"
He crawled to his knees, crouching on all fours as he struggled to stand.
"He was the only one that never failed me." He cried, tears falling unto the ground. "Why? Why Trunks?"
He looked upwards, blood diluted by his tears as both drained down his face. His lips were bruised as he cried through them, pleading with Trunks through blackened eyes.
"You had Goten," He breathed, arms shaking as he tried to hold himself up. "You had everything. Why? Why did you need him? You could have taken me! You could have taken anyone else. I would have understood it. I would have accepted it. But he was all I had. He was the only thing in this world that was unbreakable but you...." He swallowed, his blood lips forming a sob. "you ruined him!"
He collapsed once more, bawling until his throat must have bled, until his eyes could barely keep up.
"You defeated him!" He screamed, chin digging into the dirt as he still cradled his one broken hand. "You crushed everything he stood for. Every fucking sacrifice, every person that loved him. You KILLED HIM!"
Trunks face had remained as unfeeling as ever, his feet, one by one, walking closer.
"You killed him," Gohan screamed, coughing up fits of blood and saliva once more. "You fucking killed us all you HEARTLESS SHIT!"
He simply remained, face imbed into the dirt, sobbing uncontrollably as Trunks stood over him.
"You killed yourself," Trunks spat harshly. "Get up."
He suddenly kicked Gohan straight beneath the chin, sending the other flying backwards. Gohan landed with a surprised thud on his back, staring up in horror as Trunks approached once more.
"Get up you sorry fuck!" Trunks screamed, landing a solid kick right against Gohan's unguarded stomach. Gohan toppled sideways with the pain, eyes blood shot as he struggled to breathe and hold back the vomit. He staggered sideways, clutching his gut as he drug himself on all fours away from the attacker. The fear in Gohan's eyes was real, Mirai suddenly wanting to help him, knowing there was virtually no way yet unable to accept it. The beautiful Son's fingers dug into the earth as he tore himself away, coughing as though his innards would soon come splashing out of his mouth.
"Get up!" Trunks screamed, foot once more landing against Gohan's stomach and literally lifting the older man into the air with the force. "Get your vengeance Gohan!"
The other landed on his back, unmoving as he sobbed and coughed, eyes closed in defeat.
"If this is what you live for," Trunks lifted his foot over Gohan's chest, stomping it down over his rib cage and grinning when the sound of a crack answered him. "LIVE FOR IT!"
Blood flew once more into the air, falling down against Gohan's face as he panted and heaved, lying on his back and staring upwards. His chest went up and down, the rotten, ashy air filtering through his lungs in what he figured, was the last time. "But if you're waiting for me to give a fuck," Trunks smiled. "You'll wait forever."
Trunks booted foot came down hard against his throat, eyes burning savagely. It was as if Trunks was torn between two choices, the decision weighing in his mind.
"I should just fucking kill you," The beautiful mouth said squarely, blonde hair dancing crazily with the energy that cascaded through it. "I should do you this justice, this favor. Just fucking end this masquerade, this pathetic lie you consider a life."
Gohan closed his eyes, apparently accepting his defeat and awaiting the end of it all. Trunks watched with cruel fascination, smiling sadistically as he moved downwards to straddle the broken warrior. He propped his elbows on Gohan's chest, chin resting comfortably over the beautiful face, so much like that of his father's.
"Would you like that," Trunks asked sweetly, cocking his head to the side. "Would that be your forgiving? Would you let it go?"
His finger came across the open wounds and tears across Gohan's cheeks, the touch seductive and soft, yet pushing JUST hard enough to create pain with pleasure.
"Would that set you free my precious Gohan," His heartless eyes implored. "Would you love me for that?"
Gohan shuddered angrily beneath the touch, tears blurring his glaring eyes.
"Would you fall so easily as your daddy Gohan," Trunks smiled angelically. "Would you drop to your knees so quickly and worship every inch just like he did?"
Gohan struggled suddenly, pushing hard against Trunks' chest to no avail. The tortuous grin fell only slightly, Trunks' hands coming up to grip the sides of Gohan's face. His thumbs dug into deep wounds, crushing them open as the older Saiyan screamed in agony, Trunks sadistic eyes lightening as he watched the blood squirt over his fingernails.
"I really ought to you know," He laughed between clenched teeth, moving to touch noses with the other. Gohan hardly struggled, swallowing his screams when the fingers loosened slightly. "I really ought to just kill you here. After all, in how many ways can a son fail his father so terribly?"
Gohan suddenly just stopped, laying beneath the other. Mirai winced, knowing just how deeply that comment must have cut.
"Maybe," Trunks grinned, rubbing his nose sweetly against the other's cheek. "Maybe if you'd have just been enough, he wouldn't have left in the first place. Maybe if you had just been strong enough, he would have wanted to stay and train with you. But you weren't a challenge, were you Gohan? You weren't anything but one big fucking mistake he was only too happy to run away from. Tell me, my beautiful lie...."
Trunks nuzzled Gohan's neck kindly, though his words were like pouring acid into a salt covered wound.
"How fucking horrible of a son do you have to be," Trunks grinned. "For your own father to choose death rather than being with you?"
Gohan let out a chilling sob, laying his face to the side as Trunks affectionately kissed his exposed throat. Mirai moved forward as an instinctual reaction, wanting so badly to defend the broken warrior. As it was, the tears leaked down crimson cracks on the morbidly beautiful face, burning as the salt stung the wounds.
"You blame me so much Gohan," Trunks sighed, tracing his soft fingertips over the bloody gashes on Gohans face and neck. "But maybe, just maybe if you had been there for your father when ChiChi died, he wouldn't have had to come to me for..." Gohan cringed, closing his eyes to Trunks' smirk. "Consolation."
Mirai felt suddenly ill, shooting a cold look towards his companion who obviously ignored it.
"Everyone loves me Gohan," The younger Saiyan laughed. "Even your little brother loves me more than you. Tell me Gohan, I'm curious. If I'm such a fucking soulless monster... then what does that make of you? Hm?" He didn't wait for a response, laughing in Gohan's ear as his victim just stared to the side. "Maybe because I don't lie like you do Gohan." He continued. "Maybe because I don't pretend, because I don't live a borrowed facade of a life. Listen to me Gohan, and listen for whatever reasons you need. But stop lying."
Mirai swallowed hard, watching Gohan's face closely.
"Stop lying to me, stop lying to them." Trunks' face was suddenly very serious. "But mostly... stop lying to yourself."
Gohan's body was suddenly hurled through the air, connecting with the base of a large rock mass. Ki binds shot out from Trunks' fingers, grasping the older man around the wrists, ankles and throat. Gohan struggled at first, teeth grinding against one another as he fought against the burning force fields that held him painfully in place. The scent of burning flesh once more permeated the air, the skin on Gohan's throat and wrists steaming as the ki binds burned.
"Oh, stop your fidgeting," Trunks scowled, pacing with his hands behind his back. His eyes traced every line and bulge on Gohan's entire body unapologetically, his lips forming his father's trademark grin. "I know you can't REALLY mind the Ki binds Gohan," He taunted. "After all, they seemed to have been a favorite of your father's."
Gohan once more flailed this way and that, fighting to no avail as he cursed through his teeth.
"Yes," Trunks laughed, lifting his face to the sky with his eyes closed. "How he would just love it when I'd bind his wrists to his ankles, bending him over and fucking him for hours. Your dear pop, my God Gohan," He grinned deliciously, moving closer and holding Gohan's face in his hands. "The shit that came out of your father's mouth when I'd cum all over his back or chest. Ohhh Gohan," He shook his head. "The places he liked me to aim...."
"Fuck you you pansy ass piece of shit," Gohan spat, heaving saliva right into Trunks' right eye.
Trunks wiped it off with hardly the least amount of care, grinning up at Gohan.
"Yet another thing you and the old man have in common," He smirked, going up and whispering in the older Saiyan's ear. "Neither one of you likes to swallow."
"Trunks," Gohan warned, eyes fuming. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he panted in frustration. "I swear to you when I get out of this..."
"And who says you ever will?" Trunks laughed cruelly. "Maybe I like you this way. A toy for my own sick little fantasies, the star of my own bondage pornos. And I doubt anyone will really even come looking for you, will they pet? Face the facts my precious, you serve more purpose THIS way than you have your entire waste of a life."
"You....." Gohan tried to shake his head, choking when the bind clutched his throat even tighter. "Fucking monster."
"As I said before," Trunks paced yet again, eyes never leaving Gohan's. "If I'm the hated monster, what does that make of you? Afterall, wouldn't you say every family member you have has at one point chosen to be with me over giving two shits what you think about it? Or were you so naive as to figure Goten was the only one?"
"W-what do you mean?" Gohan asked, finally not struggling.
"Please, beautiful Son," Trunks laughed with little humor. "Your father was just waiting for the right opportunity to collapse to his knees. The times we would train together, the way that he would touch me just a little longer before finishing out the attack. The way he would remark so often how "uncanny" it was... the resemblance between me and my gorgeous father. And everyone knows that your daddy lusted after mine with the horniness of a virginal schoolboy, trotting after my father as though there were an invisible leash caught around his neck. Only his small allegiance to you and his wife kept his most primal instincts at bay, but apparently, you guys just weren't enough, were you?
"You know Gohan," Trunks walked a little closer, forcing the other to struggle somewhat, testing the bounds of the binds. "I told your father once that what we were doing would crush you. Right before I unleashed a load right into his face, I promised him you would find out, one way or another. You know what he said? You know what your invincible hero concluded right as I blew one right onto his chin? That you were a big boy Gohan."
Trunks suddenly tore one finger right up the front of Gohan's shirt, the bruised skin beneath exposed to the hot air.
"I'm curious just how big he meant," Trunks laughed.
His eyes scanned every inch of exposed skin, his pink tongue darting out to lick his lips in sick anticipation. Eyes gleaming like that of a wild cat approaching its' prey, Trunks moved dangerously close to Gohan, his hot breath carressing the naked skin of the crucified warrior.
"Trunks, I swear to God," Gohan hissed, moving as far away as he could when Trunks' teeth grazed the flesh of his throat. It seemed for an instant Gohan closed his eyes, letting himself for but a moment fall into the seduction as hot breath massaged the tender skin stretched over his muscular, corded neck.
"Ohhhh,.... what Gohan?" Trunks smirked against the sensitive skin, fingers slowly tracing lines around the impressive pectorals and collar bone. "The rest of your family seems to like it just fine. Even your little momma."
Mirai's eyes widened, darting over to stare at his companion.
"What?!" Gohan choked out, yanking away.
"Oh, you didn't know?" Trunks pulled back, laughing hysterically at getting the exact reaction he wanted. "You really are just as pathetic and thick as your daddy. Ah but loneliness can be such a burden. Especially for an undersexed shrew like your mom Gohan. All those times when you were away, all those times when "daddy dearest" was out saving anything else but his own family.. all the times when Goten had crashed out upstairs; who do you think took care of dear ol' mom? Who do you think she would move closer to as we watched tv? Who's hand did she push inside her thighs, rubbing that tender, sweet little vagina against my wrist, just begging me to fill up that hungry little cunt of hers?"
Gohan looked like he was about to wretch, searching Trunks' eyes desperately, praying that he would find deceit in them. He suddenly just hung his head, Mirai understanding that despite the attempts, Gohan's search for that crucial deception had come back with nothing. Trunks wasnt' lying at all.
"Awww.. " Trunks mock cried, watching fresh tears spill down Gohan's cheeks. "isn't that just SO sad! I thought you might have noticed that every time I spent the night I left with my fingers smelling like week old tuna."
"STOP!" Gohan bawled suddenly, chest heaving as he cried. "Why are you telling me this?!"
"Because you need to understand it Gohan," Trunks laughed, patting Gohan's soggy cheek. "Your family loves me more than they even do you. For all your lies, for all your pleasant facades, they ALL prefer the monster to the animated puppet. And that's all you are isn't it? A moving, breathing thing with no real intention of directing itself. A mannequin that once and a while likes to pretend it's a REAL boy!"
He threw his head back again, letting the cold laughter chill Gohan's skin.
"But I knew the truth all along," Trunks smiled, pushing his fingers through the back of Gohan's hair compassionately. "I knew that precious pretty boy Gohan was nothing more than a steaming closet fag from the day his testicles dropped. Oohhhh we know the truth DON'T we?!" He suddenly tore Gohan's head back with his fingers entrapped in the thick blonde hair, a cry escaping the older man. "Ohhhh WE know what the beauitiful eldest son dreams of at night, fucking himself, digging his fingers so hard up inside. Probing that sweet, virginal little prostate!"
Trunks tongue snaked itself across the blood wound on Gohan's cheek, making the other wince in pleasure and pain. Gohan tried ferouciously to yank away from the fingers that held his hair, his throat completely exposed to Trunks' painful kisses.
"We know that the great hero's son," The younger Saiyan continued mercilessly. "is not only a flaming faggot but a fucking shameless COWARD of one!"
He imitated Gohan, sobbing falsely.
"Awww! But wouldn't poor little mumsy be so upset to know her little boy craved the cock even more so than she did?!" He bawled.
"You sick fuck," Gohan sobbed, arms etched with veins as he tried his damndest to get loose.
"Funny that your mom never complained," Trunks kissed Gohan's cheek softly. "I never heard anything more than a peep while I kneeled in front of the couch, licking from side to side. She would just watch the stairs, making sure neither one of her precious little boys would walk in on her, legs spread with my chin in between. Tell me Gohan," Trunks pressed his face painfully against Gohan's, meshing their skin together before he spoke words that seemed to stop the earth around them completely. "Don't you think it's odd that your mom's pussy was as cold as a frozen sardine can even BEFORE she died?"
"Jesus CHRIST!" Mirai cried out, throwing his head down in nausea. "What the FUCK is WRONG with you!?"
Trunks presently rolled his eyes, watching the scene dully.
"It's just part of the game Mirai," He said with hardly a sideways glance. "It's the way of the world. Sometimes you have to destroy before you can create."
Gohan had since let out a hoarse cry, hanging his head in defeat. He just sobbed for a moment, chin on his chest as he cried out all of his frustrations, blood running down his fingers as his nails dug into his palms. His body shook from uncontrollable rage, his wrists bleeding as he desperately tried to free himself. Trunks meanwhile just sat back and watched his victim, arms crossed over his chest.
"You couldn't save her," Trunks said softly, Gohan's red rimmed eyes moving upwards to rest upon him. "You can fake until the day you die. You can watch your entire world around you and everyone you love in it believe that you're something you're not. But your lies couldn't save her life Gohan. Your lies can't bring her back. Your lies never stopped your dad or your brother from coming to me. So really, of what use are they? You use this masquerade as a form of control, a way to mold everything around you. But don't you see? It's damn near cost you everything to uphold it. You missed out on so many opportunities to be closer to the ones you love because they never knew the real you in the first place. You can't get close to a built up wall Gohan. You just can't."
The cruelty had completely left Trunks, the logical side overtaking the young man. The biting, harsh words were suddenly calm and for but an instant, Mirai almost wished for their return. Because as hard, as cold and as bruising as what he spoke was, the cruellest part was.. that it was entirely correct.
"You borrowed your dad's identity because you were afraid of your own. Gohan, you say I'm the monster...." Trunks finally shook his head in shame. "Your mother lived and your mother died without one word of HONESTY from you. You let her go, missing and saying her goodbyes to a complete stranger. So call me the monster. Blame me for every way that your world isn't perfectly controllable anymore. But just try to remember that if everything about YOU was so God damn perfect... why did they turn to the well known monster? Face it Gohan and listen to me carefully when I say this."
Trunks stepped forward calmly.
"Who is the better man? Me or you. Because you? Your entire life you've lied both to everyone around you and to yourself but me? I was always the honest asshole and I was loved FOR that. I never lied, I never cheated, I never pretended for people to be around me. People didn't ever flock to me because I gave them some fantastical version of me. I gave them the raw truth, ugly and unsatisfying as it is. So why did they choose ME over you?"