"We're going to have a baby."

Life was not fair when hearing these words hurt. I should have been happy to find out that one of my friends was pregnant, I should have been able to put a real smile on my face, to hug the father-to-be and congratulate him like I meant it.

I sighed, wiped my blond hair from my face and tried to smile. "That's great, Trunks."

He looked at me, his blue eyes dark in the twilight. My heart sped up at being alone with him, even now. I followed the sharp lines of his face with my gaze, willing him to feel the love I felt, useless though as it may be.

He stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him, running a hand through his hair. The tension between us was almost tangible, as always.

"So you're going to be a dad, huh," I said, sheepishly.

He gave me a crooked smile. "Yup. There's one very healthy, very strong little saiyan on its way."

I looked away from his eyes. Saiyan.

Pan deserves him. I wish she didn't, but she does. She is one of the truest people I have met, not afraid to be herself, not afraid to care. Not afraid to take what she wants.

How can I hate her for that? She has not stolen him from me. He is not some mindless object that we can push around and claim as ours, he has a will of his own. Besides, she did not know about us. There never was an us.

Pan is a saiyan. She will not die long before he starts showing signs of aging. She will be able to give him strong children, children that will make even his father proud. Pan will be a challenge and a completion to him in ways that I cannot.

I would like to say that she could not love him like I can, but I know that she will.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead, and leaned back against the wall. "Marron –"

I shook my head. "Don't, Trunks. There's no use."

He shrugged helplessly, pushing his silky hair behind an ear. More than anything I wanted to touch his arm, pull him into a hug, tell him everything was going to be alright.

I couldn't. No matter how hard my brain tried to tell me that everything would be alright in the long run, that I would survive and go on and be happy again, my heart told me differently.

I knew my heart was lying, I knew that love like this always felt like it would last forever and that it never did, but that didn't make the feeling any less strong.

"I want to," he said softly, gently grabbing my shoulders and pulling me a bit closer. The look in his eyes was enough to make me comply, as it always was. He made me so helpless.

I shrugged, shaking my head again, but he knew I would listen.

"Look, Marron, I want you to know that..." He trailed off, his eyes searching my face. I looked back, defiant, or maybe I was just too tired to hide any longer. I had been keeping my feelings to myself for months, pretending it all had been a fairytale, a dream that was too good to be true. I had tried to stop loving him and I had tried to stop giving him any reason to love me.

The moment I started to turn away from him, he forcefully pulled me against him and crushed his lips against mine. I kissed him back with equal force, pulling him even closer to me, tangling my fingers in his hair and his shirt. The world was reduced to only him and me, to deeper and closer and stronger and tighter, to nothing but the fire that was us.

Finally we broke off the kiss and I clutched to him, hiding my face in his shoulder. "This should so not be happening," I mumbled guiltily. "It's not happening. It never happened."

Trunks' arms were around me, still crushing me to his body. "It's not," he agreed, his mouth entirely too close to my earlobe. "We are not doing this."

"If things had been different..." I closed my eyes, breathing against the cloth of his shirt.

I felt him sigh and nod, felt his bangs tickle my ear, neck, jaw. "If only things had been different."

I refused to let go, basking myself in the warmth of this stolen moment. Life would go on, this pain would pass, this love would fade. He would be happy with Pan and he would raise a gorgeous saiyan family and one day, I would be able to look at them and not be jealous. But I promised myself there and then not to forget what was and what could have been. If only things would have been different.

#$#

AN: Short, unbetaed and asking for more. I don't think I'm going to write it, so consider this a one-shot.  ...Argh, I abandoned my religion. I don't even like T/M, I refuse to read it. I just – like my Marron.

Shameless selfpromotion: find original urban fantasy by me on http:www.livejournal.com/users/aerell .