Chapter 8

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The day seemed to go in slow motion, in painstakingly slow motion. The whole group had said their somewhat teary-eyed farewells, exchanging numbers and addresses before leaving. Makoto shared long, warm hugs with Chichi and Bulma, telling them how they reminded her so much of her deceased mother. And now it was time for her to leave.

And it's an eerily quiet car ride. And eerily quiet when they step into the airport. An eerily quiet luggage check-in and just as quiet in security check.

Trunks stands in front of Gate 15, staring at the bold letters above the entrance.

"I guess…this is goo-" He can't bring himself to say it. Makoto nods slowly and leans up, gently brushing her lips against his. Feather soft and a taste of heaven, that's what it was. Their lips parted, but they still remained in a tight embrace. He held her close, chin propped on her head while his hands rested on her hips.

"I'm gonna miss you too." Trunks suddenly murmured, face somber. Makoto looks up, face oddly..shocked? Her face twists and contorts with millions of emotions, she can't quiet seem to find the right one.

"Now boarding first class Flight 361…" the PA system blares and Trunks releases her, stepping back one, two, three steps. He stares at her, with that same torn, pained gaze he's been giving her all morning.

"Better get going...don't wanna be late." He tries to sound humorous, but fails miserably. With his trade mark half smirk, he does a peace sign and whips around, walking to the exit.

"Trunks…TRUNKS WAIT!"

His pace quickens and he's almost out of the clear when a hand grabs his and pulls him back. He sniffles faintly and visibly cringes when he hears Makoto's soft "awww." Her hands cup Trunks's face, her fingers lacing in his soft, light-colored locks. She pulls him foreword, pressing her forehead to his.

"Just say the word and I'll stay. I'll stay and I'll never leave your side. And-and we can go to the mall and play DDR all day and I'll even let you win. And we can go back to that fun house and we can poke fun at our whacked out reflections and realize our real reflections look ten times worse. And you can hold me and we can have happily ever and-and then we can have one of those cheesy movie moments where you kiss me and the world stops and firecrackers appear out of no where and my leg pops up. And-and…we'll be together. Just say it Trunks...just...tell me…" she whispers fiercely, large pools welling up in her large, emerald eyes.

Trunks took a trembling breath and then heaved a heavy sigh. God damn you Kami, what the hell did he deserve this for! He helped saved the world. He helped end Frieza from conquering and ultimately purging Earth and this, THIS was what you give in turn? THAT IS JUST NOT FAIR! NOT FAIR AT ALL!

But life isn't fair.

Love isn't fair.

Nothing is fair.

And just because he happened to be a key essential to the Earth's current existence doesn't exclude him from fate's cruelty.

"Just leave..."

She stares at him, disbelief and anguish written across her face. His stomach churns with regret and his fists tighten. Her lower lip trembles and she still holds his head in her hands, almost…refusing to let him go.

"Last call for first class Flight 361, boarding for Tokyo, Japan."

Her watery gaze remains on the lavender haired boy that had kept her in utter utopia for the past year. Trunks visibly winces at the sound of her sniffling and stares at the ground, unwilling, no more like unable to look her in the eye.

"Goodbye Trunks…"

She places a gentle kiss on his cheek and steps backwards. Another. Then another. And finally, she turns away and proceeds to her gate, not looking back. When she's completely out of sight, Trunks lifts his head and murmurs,

"Goodbye Makoto."

-

Makoto's P.O.V.

I grit my teeth and am just about this fucking close to beating the life out of everyone who looks at me with that sympathetic look across their faces. "Poor girl..." one of them murmurs and an elderly woman nods in agreement, babbling on how love with kids these days.

What does that old hag know about me? These people assume they know the whole story, assume they know me. And if it wasn't for that innocent, slumbering girl near by who looked jarringly like Sakura, I would have probably caused a giant scene by now and been escorted out of first class.

I shake my head a bit, trying to work some sense into me. I am not thinking about Trunks. I am not thinking about how wonderfully I melt into his frame, or the fact that my hand fits so perfectly in his. He told me to leave, he said it, he doesn't want me there, so fine, I'm here, and I don't care. I don't give a rat's mother fucking ass, I don't care if he happens to be in the arms of that wretched bitch Delilah or the possibility that I was just some random fling to him.

'Don't lie to yourself Mako' a voice pipes in my head.

'Shut the hell up.' Another voice snaps coldly to the other.

'You're world is shattered.'

'No it isn't…'

'It's gone…'

"Lady?" a small voice pops up.

"What?" I answer louder and colder then I intend too.

A young mother darts forward and takes the little thing into her arms, shielding her from my wrath. The mother quickly retreats back to her seat, telling her child not to talk to 'people like me.' The little girl argues, saying something or the other in her defense.

I sigh and shake my head, peering out the window. I can still see Statan City. I press my hand against the cold glass and murmur.

"Trunks…"

-

Trunks P.O.V

And she's gone.

I stare numbly at her retreating form, wanting so hard to run after her and take her in my arms once more. But why should I? I was the one who said for her to go, I outright said it.

"Goodbye Makoto..." I mumble helplessly, my eyes burning with tears.

'Don't cry, don't breakdown in the mother fucking airport, you have a reputation to uphold.'

'Fuck my reputation. Fuck everything!'

I shove the debating voices in my head aside and shut them up. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I look at the floor, my shoes oddly interesting. I walk through the maze of people, feeling empty. I'm just another walking silhouette.

My ears perk up like a dog at a familiar nastily voice. Peering to my left, my eyes widen a bit. It was that bitchy store clerk. I smile a bit at the memory and quickly avert my gaze and walk-no run to the exit.

And when I got home, no one had the balls to say anything to me, not even my father. They didn't even call me down for lunch or dinner; they just let me wallow in self depression for the remains of the day.

Seven thirty at night. I lean heavily against my bed, my forehead knocked against my knee. My neck begins to grow stiff and I lift my head up, groaning as I massage the kinks out of my spine.

In the process, I scan my dark room and freeze at the sight of a pink something or the other poking out through the cracks of the opposing dresser. I crawl over and free the fabric from its restraints, the garment tumbling onto my lap. It's Makoto's.

I hug it and bury my face in the soft piece of clothe, breathing in the smell of sweet cherry blossoms and the morning after a light shower that is so uniquely my Makoto.

…well what was my Makoto.

I can pretend that I never met her.

I can pretend I never gave my heart to her.

I can pretend I never loved her.

'No, you can't.' That annoying voice of reason states in my head.

'Yes, I can.' I retort softly, my voice sounding scarily broken and weak.

'You love her.'

'No..'

'You love her.'

'No..'

'You love her.'

"NO!" my voice echoes throughout my room, down the hallway, and most likely to the dinner room. They probably think I've broken down and my dad's probably saying how I'm a weak good for nothing brat and my mother's saying to leave me alone while Raye and Mina look up and say "Aww, poor Trunks."

But I could care less if they heard me; all that matters is this sweater.

Makoto's sweater.

-

So I rushed the last couple of chapters because I wanted to do my sequel. Laugh out loud.

Thanks everyone, all you kind reviewers especially.

Review? Please?