"Leave me alone...!", I yell at him, trying to control my rage. "Don't even think of getting any closer, you son of a..."

He looks at my eyes, staring, hurt, and steps backwards.

"I'm not getting closer....", he says very softly, trying to calm me down. "I'm not getting any closer, see...?"

I nod, still angry, and start walking forward, getting as far away from him as possible as fast as I can walk.

"Wait...!", I hear him exclaim, desperate. "Let me... let me explain..."

Without turning back, an ironic smirk crosses my face. I just keep going, distancing myself as far as I can from him and all that he represents. I feel him behind me, still, wavering between getting nearer or not, knowing that I will only be angrier if he does so.

"Pan...!", he calls, knowing that there is little time left for him to ask me to forgive him before I am too far from him.

I sigh and try to relax, control my breath and make my rage disappear, but it is not as easy as it seems. I feel hurt. I feel used. I feel shattered and fooled. I feel ugly and dirty, ugly, dirty and old.

I almost, and only almost, hate him.

My eyes start to burn. It has been years since I last cried. Since I last cried not because of bruises or sickness. Years that end this very night when I was coming to give him what I expected to be a great piece of news. News that he will get, I suddenly think. When I'm calmed down. When that 'almost' disappears and I can say that I truly hate him. When the news are a punishment and not anything else.

I move away from him.

I move away forever.

Or thus I hope...

I left two years ago. I left because of him, because I needed to forget what I was feeling. I needed to convince myself that what I was starting to feel emerging between the two of us was not real, but was only the hunger and need that each felt for the other one. That he needed a woman, someone to take care of, and that he was using me. That I was not in love with him. That I was only attracted to him as every teenaged girl finds herself attracted to a television or cinema star because he's handsome. Because he looks good, right. Because he looks real good.

I applied for a grant abroad. To get a bit of fresh air, a change. To be on the other side of the world. So I wouldn't see him. Not him, nor anyone else. At the beginning I doubted where to go. I had lots of chances. My career, telecommunications, has not any privileged school, and I must admit that during these two years I've rotated quite a lot, as the scholarship holder I became, going to every conference to which I was allowed to attend. I loved my job there. So much, that I stayed longer than I had expected beforehand.

When I went abroad, my purpose was only to display my project. Six months. Close-working with teachers, advanced pupils... It was my chance. So I took it. However, while I was there, teachers started caring for me. Trusting me. Asking me help with their work.

Being a scholar is the best thing that has ever come to me, professionally speaking. And not because of the work. Not even because the amounts of knowledge that I got there. I liked my work. But it was the best only because it gave me a reason to stay here. Without him. Without him. Such a little thing, something that all the girls in the world have, or nearly all, and that I've not been able to have until I went abroad.

It's not that I hate him. Nor even that I don't like the way he is. More like the opposite. I love him. And I love him a lot. But I needed to be here, to be like this, to be without him. To know that he was without me. A self-imposed martyrdom? Perhaps. Yes, in fact, I'm undeniably martyr-like. And not even a good one; not even a suffering one. The fact is that I needed a change in my life, to break with it all. Coming here and seeing what a life was like with men around me. Without having them worrying about my hyper-jealous boyfriend that shoots them dirty looks if they come too close to me.

That's not true. He does not. But, adding to the fact that he's very good-looking, you can tell that he's very strong. And when someone sees someone else who looks like being very strong hugging a girl, that someone makes a note to self reminding himself not to approach the girl with bad intentions. Just in case something happens, uh?

Trunks used to make very clear that I belonged to him, that they'd better not come near me. Whenever he came to fetch me at college, he used to cling to me as if his life depended on that, he hugged me and kissed me and he touched me... as he did not at home. I've seen him, at home, sometimes, red as a tomato, out of shame, because he wanted to kiss me more or to lick me... or simply hold me while I read. Nevertheless, whenever any of my companions were present he showed me what he wanted from me all the time. And if I had to go anywhere, shopping, getting some photocopy, whatever, you could count on him coming along.

He used to try to be friends with my classmates, chit-chatting, joking – I've always been amazed of how quickly most of guys get to be friends – and later he shared and compared his opinions with me, when we were alone, to know what I though of any of them and which he should hate the most.

I don't blame him. He's always been that insecure, at least around me. Something that, having me as his mate, was totally normal and logical. I can't say that I am the sweetest woman in the world. In fact, I'm too realistic, maybe even cruel. And he knows that when I talk about some other guys, I don't intend to get him jealous. I say what I think.

It's not that big thing, in fact. It's impossible not having other people in mind, sometimes. I mean that... well, I love Trunks and he is all I have in my head. But when you see a guy with nice eyes, with a wonderful butt, or whatever, you can't help noticing. And that doesn't mean that you love your partner any less. Just... well, that you are not blind.

I can't believe that he has never felt anything about any other girl. At least, he has never told me. Which makes me doubt more of his sincerity and spontaneity than about his love or faithfulness.

There abroad I must admit that I had a bunch of admirers. Many guys used to caress me expecting that I agreed to go out with them any night. And I did, with some of them, totally innocently, just trying to convince myself that I felt nothing for Trunks. Because it's not possible. I can't love him. And he can't love me either. Because, in fact, he doesn't love me.

It was sex. From the very first day. We were friends. Very good friends. We ended a party together on his bed. But it had no more implications. Just physical hunger for each other. He was very lonely. And he couldn't find any woman good enough for him. I wanted him badly. I still do, indeed. It was strange, doing that together. But it was good. Very good. It was my first time ever. And his. What, taking into account how old he is, says very little good things about the women he's met. What can we do, that man is very upright. And I must admit that I still love him more because of that way he is.

But my love, nowadays, for him, it's like a mother's and a friend's love more than a lover's one. It's been too long since I last saw him. A very long while. And the truth is that I've forced myself to think of him as a mother would do.

He's my little one. My hotshot, missing me from afar, while I went to the cinema with some foreign man that was going nuts for me... I'm so evil...!

But the purpose of going out with other men was not to hurt him. They knew that I had a kind of boyfriend at home. They knew that there would never be sex between us. Nor anything long-lasting. They were only friends going with me somewhere... I've always felt more comfortable with a man than with a woman around. Because of that, that led me to be closer to Trunks as his friend and not so much to Bra. Perhaps that's the reason why that night I ended sleeping with Trunks and not alone in my bed.

Though now I know that men don't feel that comfortable around me. Although it's not my fault but my worshipped boyfriend's super-developed muscles.

And even though I know too that who feels the less comfortable with that is Trunks himself.

Nevertheless, I must point that he never said anything to me referring to the subject.

He never said to me a word about our relationship either. We both took lots of things for granted. We never talked about certain subjects. Since that night we saw each other regularly, mostly every day. To everyone's eyes, we were going out together. He came to fetch me, we had a walk, we ended making love on the ship, I can't understand why we never got to get home in time, later we arrived and kept it on and...

We lived together. Not exactly, but it was as if we did. It all started as a one-night-stand. That is, we both wanted it, but our plans for the future were not looking very far forward. It was passionate and electric. We both ended very pleasantly surprised. Both of us. And that's a think I know for sure. ^_~

We woke up together, on his bed, naked and hugging each other. Our hunger for the other seems to be without end, to be sincere. We looked each other; both surprised that that had happened. Remembering it all, but not being able to believe that it was not a dream. Little by little, his hand rested on my back. My lips on his.

And that's where a beautiful friendship ended.

Or should I say that there was where it started? Obviously, the most beautiful part had just been discovered!!

We did that again. We went downstairs to have breakfast; we came back upstairs and had a shower together. We were thirsty for each other. I could use for an excuse the fact that we had just discovered one another. Who would believe that? How long does a couple need to get over the discovering phase anyway? I don't believe that it'd be that long!

As I was saying, he never told me whether he loved me or not. Neither did I. We never talked about doing anything more together. Neither going out together nor any kind of compromises between us. It's not that I regret that. I'm just pointing it out. We never spoke of being faithful. Even if we both were – well, he wouldn't have had strength enough for another woman! Not after a night with me...!! Nah, joking again. I'm really evil!

I never thought seriously about having another man. He gave me everything, everything at all.

And, what the heck, I was in love! And I am. Though I have willingly spent two years without any sight of him. But that was something I needed. Take a breath. It had to be six months, I know. But I needed those two years! When I come back now, our relationship will have more sense. I don't even know why. But I know that I truly needed these years.

I've missed him so much...

And not only physically.

Trunks is my best friend. It was long ago that I realised that he was. With Bra things are not so easy. She is... herself. On the other hand Trunks has always been so sincere, so willing to help me, always at my side. Long before we started being more than friends.

I'm missing him. Even though I'm about to see him. Or maybe more just because I'm about to see him.

He'll come to fetch me to the airport. When I land he'll be there... I wonder how he'll have his hair. And which clothes he will be wearing. I can remember him so clearly that it seems impossible that it has been two years since I left.

We've written some letters to each other, very sporadic ones. And we've met on the Internet. And every once in a while I used to phone home and he always tried to be there. It's not as if we had lost every little contact. But, obviously, nothing compared to what we had before, to what was binding us together in such a magnetic way.

Oh, how I've missed him...!

I can't understand why we have never spoken before of our relationship. I don't even know if he will want to stop it now or if he will decide to go on. I don't know anything at all. It will be as if we were starting from the very beginning. And I'm considering the possibility of getting him drunk, sincerely. I wish we had talked about us beforehand. That I knew if we are going out together, as every one of my college classmates believed – and that is so because my love never left place for any doubts, just with the way he kissed me and hugged me and looked at me... – or if there is nothing at all between us, like our family thinks – and I assure you that it is very difficult to act with your family. It is so hard that both Bra and Goten take for granted that we are together and we have never been able to deny it.

Things were a bit easier, though, when Trunks moved to a house on his own. Maybe that led us in part to never talk about our feelings, for we never had a real need for doing so. His moving out made things easier for us both, for hiding whatever that was going on between us. He left his parents' house two months after that night, one year and a half – isn't it incredible that we lasted that long basing our relationship only in our friendship and in physical hunger, without demands of any other kind? That we trusted one another that much? – before I got the scholarship and left.

The house is simply gorgeous. It's our house, there's no doubt about that. We decorated it together. The bed is our bed – and I felt very happy when Trunks said so instead of saying 'my' bed – and I slept in it much more than I slept in mine, during the almost two years that we were together before my trip. In the wardrobe there were clothes of mine as well as his. Whenever we went shopping, he used to buy things that I know that he doesn't like but that I do. In fact, I've never needed him telling me that he wanted to go out with me. These little details were enough to make me happy and to make me want to be with him even more. And the fact that he was so over-sweet, loving, caring, when he came to fetch me at college made me tell him to go to pick me up every single day. And he knew it. I loved him being possessive around me, that he couldn't get his hands out of me, that he touched and kissed me... What the heck, when he came to my university I was even worse than him! Our 'good morning' used to last about ten minutes without breathing! And when I saw him I always used to run into his arms nearly making him fall!! But what can I do, if I love him and I could just show it at home and in college?

It's not true that he was clingier at university. It is impossible to surpass any night at his home. At our home. We didn't lose contact. Whenever I went to drink water, he came with me and hugged me while I drank. If he was about to go to the bathroom, I came as well and used the occasion to use it as well. Perhaps it's the fact that I've been two years without him that makes me see it that way. I idealise the situation. Because I miss him a lot. Anyway, I think that our never-confessed and hidden relationship was perfect. It was so sweet, so passionate, so loving! And I know that he also loved it. That he'd never been that happy until we started it.

My God, he must have been devastated since I left him.

I could tell, by his letters. He was missing me in a devastating way. And he told me. And I told him so. It was horrible to be apart. Unbearable. And I knew it. But, still, I remained abroad and he wasn't with me. Why? I don't know if I know. Perhaps because I wanted to force myself to clear everything up, to talk to him, perhaps because I needed some space to see what I was in need of. Perhaps because I wanted to see if I was missing him enough or if it was just sex, what was binding us. Well, now, I can tell, I missed and needed him enough. More than enough. A lot. Even too much. So much that it was hard for me to breathe.

And, as he said, he was that way too. Is it because he loves me or because he's become a sex addict…?

All in all, I'll know soon enough. We're almost there, we're about to land, and now he's here and me too. There isn't any distance coming between us now.

I need to know. I need to know if what he likes of me is only the way I make love to him and nothing else -even if I must proudly admit that it's because of the way he does it. I've only done it with him, and I know his tastes to a fare-thee-well- Then… what? I don't know. I'll ask him about our future.

I love him. What I want to do is to marry him. To live all my life attached to him. Literally. Make him happy. Now what I need to know is if when he came to me he was driven by anything else than the basic, primal instinct for reproduction. And, if it was so, if he wants us to continue seeing each other and to what end.

Perhaps he doesn't feel anything for me. Maybe he only has me as a plaything, for satisfying his needs, just that, and waits for the perfect girl that will come, sooner or later, and it will be to her to whom he will swear eternal love and all those things. He'll marry her, she'll bear his children, and it will be her who makes him happy. It will be her whom he respects and…

But, Trunks, my Trunks, isn't like that. He couldn't be faking this passion. And, if there's passion, I'm finding it hard to believe that it would be anonymous, directed towards anyone, like an escape valve.

Believing that I'm not he only one would hurt me too much. He's kept me this way a long time.

Will it be over after two years? Has he forgotten me?

I think that's what I wanted to know. If, after two years Trunks would be to me Trunks or would be Mr. Briefs, father and family man. Of a family that isn't mine.

I'm afraid. And hungry… very hungry. What will he do? Will he want me? Will he come with a family member, as a preventive measure? Or will he come alone, with the ship, our ship, where we always ended up doing more than we ought to, fresh out of the shower and wanting action?

Will he have missed me as much as I him? I haven't had news from him in a long time, he hasn't written me in a long while. Will tonight be a warm "come back together"? I can't wait to know!

We're landing. Wish me luck…!

All in all, my guess came out short of reality. And, however much I tell now, I'll keep falling short of how it really was! Warm isn't the word. And passionate doesn't even come close those first three minutes at the ship. I descended from the plane, and there he was, freshly showered, as I said before, and handsome, all dressed up in very, very sexy sports clothes. My breath caught inside me just by seeing him. He came towards me until he reached me, stared fixedly into my eyes and we melted together. It's been such a long time since anyone kissed me! I don't think there is any man who can kiss as well as Trunks does. It's amazing. With that one kiss all my doubts were erased. He hugged me tight, kissed me a million times more, we took the ship, and there we were.

I love him. Even more than before, if that's possible.

We tried to talk. Both of us wanted to. But having him before me, seeing him smile and move and talk to me and look at me with such hunger, such happiness, having missed him so much, my lips didn't want to move. Neither did my hands. Nothing. I just kissed him, and caressed him, and ran my hands through his hair, and smiled at him and whispered to him and wanted to devour him, any way I could.

He was more or less in the same state. He hugged me tightly, very, very tightly, teary-eyed. He told me to never leave him again, almost begged me not to. And I swore I wouldn't. Of course I wouldn't. It would be as if he wanted me to bind myself to him forever. My only answer to that would be a "yes"

Then the action began. As wonderful as always…!

This is still our home. My clothes are still in the closet, even if I find little presents amongst it. There was, over a shelf, a flask of my cologne, new, wrapped up. I grabbed it, and he was looking at me, leaning against the door. I turned around to ask him what was it and he told me that when he knew I was coming back, he filled the house with little things for me. Not only the cologne. A very beautiful dress, shoes, hair things… and my study. I was struck speechless upon seeing it. It was one of the rooms we had not decorated, thinking we would put it to use in the future -there are many rooms like that, here… this house is enormous! - and he had put some beautiful furniture: a huge desk, a very comfortable chair, everything I could have wished for. Right now, I'm there, writing on my laptop, as usual, but with the sensation of truly being home. He's making lunch. I told him to let me enjoy my new study a while. As if we hadn't done it just a moment ago…! It isn't like we christen the rooms, that strikes me as rather old-fashioned, but seeing that he had prepared this for me, what else was I to do, but kiss him? I was out of my mind with happiness and I demonstrated it by throwing myself at him, hugging and kissing him. It's not my fault that a kiss lead to all this…

I hope he never gets angry with me. I would die of hurt.

I'm a little afraid. Just a little. But I'll tell why later. I don't want to name my crazy fears just yet. Or not so crazy.

Lunch smells great… I'm going to stop him before he finishes it. I don't want to eat yet!! I'm too hungry for something else!!!!! All me smells of him… I love it…! It's been too long since I last felt this good…! Too long!!

I get away from him, run and separate myself, feeling how my heart breaks because of the distance. I don't know where to go, my house is his house and my parents' house seems too lugubrious to go there right now. It's like going back to the beginnings, admitting you've lost.

But I've lost.

I've lost him. Or maybe never had him.

In the end it's my fault. I'm too hopeful, too naive. I believe too easily in the good things. And I misjudge people.

I try not to blame him, not to hate him. Because I can't. I'd rather convince myself that it's not his fault. I don't want to see to which point I love him

Because, before, I spoke without knowledge. Not now. He doesn't love me.

I believed I mattered to him, believed myself beautiful to his sight. That he respected me, held me in some esteem. How naive, isn't it? And all for not believing that my boyfriend's honesty was something I came up with.

Ex-boyfriend.

No, not even that. Nothing. As always, nothing. But, now, not even lover.

There is another. He's going out with a girl. I met her today, after two days locked up at his house, making up for lost time.

And now I feel so dirty…!

I spend the two first days since my return at home in his arms, talking and living as any normal couple. I'm happy. I think he's happy too. An the third day Bra calls -she calls me, to my phone- and tells they're throwing a big welcome back party, a party in my honour, that night. And that I'll be able to meet her brother's girlfriend. And she tells me this while I have Trunks hugging me and kissing my neck.

I look at him, unbelieving. He knows what Bra has told me, and hugs me tighter. He knows I want to leave his side. With a few more words, I hang up on Bra. I put down the phone and separate myself from him, hurt, very hurt, but hoping it's all a lie.

A look. Only a look. And I know it isn't. I ask him, in a whisper. He nods, and looks at me shamefaced, he looks at me with fear. I get dressed without looking at him, without speaking to him, very quickly. I don't want to hear him. I don't want to see him. He tries to hold me but I throw him off. Bra's calling to his house now. The distraction I needed to get away. I escape through the window. He sees me and tries to stop me, but I'm already gone. I go to CC. I see Bra. I hear her talking, but I don't listen to her. And then I see her. I meet her. She's so pretty, taller than I am, more slender and graceful, more… beautiful, physically speaking. Perfect hair, brown. Big pretty eyes, sky blue, just a bit less intense in colour than his. I see her, with her mini-skirt and her top and I realise they must make such an amazing couple together.

I can see them together, picture them clearly. She's perfect. Perfect for him. With a stabbing pain in my heart, I see my figure, so young, so graceless and ill favoured. With a small, thin voice, a part of myself denies that I'm graceless and ill favoured. It argues that I have many prospective suitors. That, during my stay abroad, many guys noticed me. That I have a pretty face and -. With a mental kick to the voice, I go back to considering myself ugly. He has chosen her to go out with. He has thought her prettier than me. Therefore, I'm a graceless toad and she's a regal princess. And nobody will convince me of the opposite. The small voice starts timidly interceding again on my behalf, saying now that I was very far away and she was here, but I make it shut up with a single look.

With tears in my eyes, I see him arrive. He lands on the courtyard. He's looking for me, I know he's looking for me, and I hide my presence. I'm on the third floor, in Bra's room. Hidden behind the curtains. She's on the courtyard. She sees him. She goes towards him, very pretty, all dressed up for my party, which must be starting soon, it's almost night and I didn't even notice, and hugs him. He turns around to see who it is. I see her hand circling his waistline. Then on his neck. She pulls him near her. Her hand has lost itself under his shirt -the same shirt I took off this morning, twice- and their lips meet. I can't watch it. I feel jealous. I feel dirty. Used. So used.

Without saying anything to Bra, who is still telling me about her latest conquests, I storm out the door. I run down the stairs without seeing them, I fall and a new stab, now of fear, lodges itself in my abdomen. I can die. Falling, I can hurt myself. And that is a thought that makes itself a place into my head for the first time. And for the first time, I care about it.

I'm afraid. I'm very afraid while I'm on the floor, sitting on the last steps and all my body shakes because of the impression of the fall. My ankle burns, I feel it throb and boil and I bit my lips so I don't start crying. It's not that it hurts me. But that small detail is enough to break my composure and make me let out what I feel. And I suspect, in a rudimentary, instinctive way that when I start, it will be a long time before the well is empty.

I try to get up, supporting myself on the railing. My eyes are full of tears that I refuse yet to let out. Bra has come out and looks at me from upstairs, surprised, wondering what has got on me. And Trunks has entered. He's before me, worried, trying to help me. He extends his arm towards me, promising a support point for me, but I scorn hit and get up by myself, without looking at him. I feel her entering after him, coming near him and putting her hand on his shoulder. Now, yes, proud and distant, I look at him in the eyes through my haze. He's looking at me worriedly and then he sees it. He sees that I've become angry. Sees what I saw. I smirk acidly, thinking that I could have really got hurt and that it shouldn't even have mattered to me. And with a last glance, proud and hurt at the same time, strange mixture that I am, I get out of the house, literally dodging them, getting them out of my way without even touching them. I don't want to see him. I don't want to sense him. I don't want him to touch me.

He runs after me. I yell at him to leave me alone, letting my anger override my pride. I yell at him to not come near me. And he doesn't. He stays away from me. He doesn't advance. And I get away from him fast, very fast. At the end, he stars running after me. But it's too late. He's lost me. And I try not to be found by him.

I feel so awful. There isn't any possible hope left for me. That's how I fell. My world has become grey and there's only one small speck of colour. A pale, timid colour, which tends towards grey sometimes. And that doesn't belong to me.

Trunks doesn't love me.

Trunks used me for sex. When he needed me physically.

Probably I wanted to dispel doubts about that going abroad. And I cleared up my doubts. For good or for ill. I'd only want to think that it was positive for him… Bullshit. Who am I trying to fool? To Hell what it is for him. He 's probably happy. Otherwise he wouldn't be with her.

They would be looking for me everywhere by now. It's my party. Perhaps Bra and Trunks explained to them. But until what point has Trunks risked to tell them? How ashamed I ought to be when I look at them in the eyes?

What hurts me, what really hurts me is the fact that he's been fooling me. And fooling her. He's used me as his lover without even telling me that he was with a girl. What's up, he can't turn SSJ when they make love? It's that? He's been using me for satisfying his instinctive urges, those that his woman didn't satisfy?

I feel so dirty.

And the only thing I do is look at my belly and ask myself what will it become of my children and me now.

Will you ever realise what have you done? I mean… do you care?

My God, Trunks, if you were cheating on your girl, why didn't you use protection?! Did you really expect that I would keep taking the pill two years after leaving, during all those months of abstinence?? Really?? Or did you just not think…?!

How could you, Trunks, how…? I left you because I loved you and thought that you loved me too. But you knew it!!

I don't feel well. I don't feel well at all.

What do I do? Maybe I need help… ! Where do I go?! Not CC, not my parents' house, not home… I need an analgesic… urgently.

And the only place that I can think of where I could find them is my bag. Which is at your house.

Shit, Trunks! Give me a break!!

He sits on the couch, arms crossed, head hidden behind his hands, sighing and hiccuping from time to time. The very image of dejection. She's left him and he doubts she'll ever come back. She's gone away, his Pan, when he needed her most; she's gone out of his reach. She could be next to him. He could be hugging her. But she wouldn't be with him anymore. Because she's lost her trust… That was one of the things he was most afraid of. Lack of trust and indifference. There are few things more painful than being looked at with indifference by the person you love. He was afraid of that, prayed that it wasn't so, the day she came back, just a few days ago, but an eternity when it comes to feelings.

What he never thought of was that he would lose her trust. Pan… she's hard to understand. She's an odd girl, and has always been so. Very honest, very conscientious, too coherent. Of strong convictions, of painful decisions that often have shown themselves to be the right ones. But, above all, she's a very, very instinctive girl.

And, if she loses her trust on you… you're done for. Your chances of ever getting it back are very slim.

To understand his actions, one needs first to understand how he views her. The fear. The lack of security, of stability. What else would have impulsed him, Mr. "I have to say it clear, so there aren't any misunderstandings", to spend two years sticking close to the woman of his life without asking her for a higher commitment?

He's a coward. He knows it already. And he also knows, out of repetitive experience, that everyone moves toward the direction that gives one the maximum comfort. A compromise between gains and losses. A marginal comfort dubiously positive.

Pan… slowly. They ended up in bed. Years ago. Two years of almost absolute bliss. The only drawback…? Obviously, the lack of communication. But everything was going well. Too well, in fact. And telling her that he loved her and ask from her a commitment that he didn't know if she was willing to make was to run too high a risk. Risk everything he had at the moment he most valued it.

Because, on one hand… getting into Pan's heart is anything but easy… It never has been easy. But getting out, on the other hand, it seems, to him, something far too easy.

But she went away. She left. When he was trying most fervently to bind her to him for reasons always veiled, she left. And didn't even come back when she had said she'd do it. Didn't even write, or call, as much as he would like. Two times she called him at the house where he now mourns his mistake. Their two anniversaries. Only two times in over seven hundred days. The rest was chance meetings, brief rendezvous at the Net, calls to her parents' house that coincided with times he was there.

And the rest of his life was the immense hunger, the need for affection that she left on her wake, when she left. And the certainty that she was surrounded by guys to whom he would matter nothing. All those days "staking his claim" at the university had been for nothing, now that the memories became misty and their meaning became blurred, losing its outline.

Days of bile. And she didn't even know it. She was so happy, over there. Endless days and nights missing her in a disturbing way. Listening to Bra talking when she saw him always being in the same way. Needing a hug, a small show of affection, to smell her perfume, that had disappeared from their sheets a long time ago. Praying for a call, for a surprise visit. Christmas, holidays, all was the same. Meetings, work, new reports, budgets, accounts never matching the first dozen times you tried. In the end it didn't matter.

And yes, he agreed to go out with other girl. It was Bra's doing- what did you expect, Bra will always be Bra-, she made him go out with another girl. Movies, dinner, then go back home. And pain, an ache, hurt again, stomach-ache, pain of a hand ripping his diaphragm, drowning him in an agonic death, surprisingly long, seeing that who he had next to him wasn't Pan, seeing the differences, but mostly, the minimal but much more painful resemblance. Those who made him superimpose her image over her, only to smash the picture in a thousand pieces afterwards.

He went out with another girl. He cheated on Pan. In his heart, he did it. Even if there wasn't any commitment. In his heart, he went to the movies with another girl a few times. He looked into the eyes of a girl that wasn't Pan. Even if it was painful for him, even if he didn't feel anything for her, he was guilty. He didn't tell her. She went out with guys, like he did. But she told him. Every single guy. Every single detail, always innocent, but torture for him. She told him and he wanted to yell at her to make her shut up.

And he didn't have the heart to tell her. Partly, in order not to hurt her. To not make her experience what he was going through. But the main reason he had, then and now was so she wouldn't stop loving him.

There was that possibility, impossible as it would seem. If he told her that he had gone out with someone else at last, she wouldn't stop to see who was that someone else. He would simply lose to her eyes that tiny bit of vulnerability he had. He would lose tenderness, lose part of her affection. For her, he wouldn't need her anymore. And that would lead her to re-format her heart, any way she could.

He couldn't risk it. Even if all of this was scarcely more than unreal, he couldn't risk losing her.

And he did what any unassertive guy would have done in his place: hush it up.

That's what made her angry. That's what, and he understands it perfectly, made her despise him. For Bra, her brother was going out with a girl at last. For Bra, everything was serious. And Pan, he was to blame for it, had got only Bra's version. If only he had spoken…! With Bra, everything loses its proper perspective. To Pan, it gets a perspective, but it's one far away from the real one.

And now she's gone away begging him not to come near her.

He's been fooling her, or so she thinks, he's been deceiving her, using her to cheat on another woman. Another woman who is accepted by the family. Who is the official girlfriend. Who is everything she never was.

And he doesn't know what to do to convince her that it isn't so. That it isn't like that at all. The other one is a friend. Any attempt of a formal date ended up with a shattered Trunks. So they became only friends. She was only a support point. A shoulder to cry on.

But it doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter, because Pan has already doubted of him and has believed him capable of such infidelity. It doesn't matter, because Pan has gone away and has told him very clearly to leave her alone.

It doesn't matter, because Pan is like a condenser, with a very high Tau. She'll take forever to discharge. Or change her mind, for that matter.

And all for being such an idiot. If only he had told her!! He wouldn't have lost her like that! She didn't give him time to explain anything to her, granted, after speaking to Bra. But it was the first thing he should have done upon seeing her descend from the plane. Earlier, even. Not getting all worked up and thrilled because of her return and stop using his brain.

It's all his fault. It's, absolutely, all his fault.

How could he commit so many mistakes together, and all of them so near his goddess?

The girl sees him, while entering through the backyard door, with his back facing her, and flies slowly in the direction of the stairs, trying not to be discovered. She doesn't make any noise. She'll be at the stairs soon. She'll go upstairs. Grab her things. And she'll go away, far, far away. To hide. To be as happy as she can manage with her small speck. She doesn't want anything else. Nothing, until she really needs anything.

But… how come he didn't sense her? She's not really all that good at hiding Ki. Not carrying fourth-generation super-saiyan twins in her womb.

He turns around and sees her. He calls her. Surprise. Disbelief. And, on her mind, pain. She hears him and stops suddenly. She turns around tiredly. She sighs and looks at him in the eyes.

"I need some paracetamol… Can I go get it or do I need to ask your permission first?", she says, all cold.

"Go ahead…", he whispers, with a hoarse voice. "You know perfectly well that this is your house…"

She turns around again, tuning her back to him. She climbs a step, then two. Soon she is at mid-stair. She hears him stand up and follow her upstairs. She curses him for doing so.

"I bought you of the other kind…", he says weakly, sounding sad and contrite in a mixture that made her feel sick. "The strongest kind…"

She nods, knowing of what he's talking about.

"I want paracetamol", she cuts him off. "Where are you going?"

"To give it to you"

She turns around, stopping both of them. They're on the corridor, on their way to the bathroom.

"Don't you think that I know how to get it all by myself?!", she yells at him, on his face.

He nods and drops his gaze.

"I know you can. But I wanted to give it to you… Headache…?", he tries, conciliating.

"No. Nausea."

"Then perhaps… something else…"

She looks at him defiantly.

"I said paracetamol. And you have nothing to do here, I think."

He gives up and follows her to the bathroom.

"Bra…", he starts timidly.

She stares at him with an exasperated look in her face.

"Bra…?!", says her, imitating him.

"Bra introduced us. She's a friend of hers… she forced me to, I swear you…!"

She cuts him off, angry.

"If you're talking about your girlfriend, I don't care. I don't care in the least, do you hear me?"

He nods and stares at the floor.

"She's not my girlfriend. My girlfriend is angry with me and right now is thinking up in which way to murder me that would be the most painful… Well, that and have some paracetamol…"

" I never was your girlfriend", corrects her. "Don't confuse things, uh, now?"

"You're the only girlfriend I've ever had. Whether you want it or not."

"Oh, excuse me!, she simulates dramatically. "I forgot you confessed your love! And that you told me how you loved me…! And all those days we spent with our respective, future in-laws…!"

"Pan. Perhaps we never had the need or courage to say it, but… You were my girlfriend!"

"Trunks, I need the paracetamol. Nothing more. Now let me go, uh? I should have gone in search of a pharmacy on duty!!", she says suddenly, angry at herself.

"Why didn't you go to one, then...?!"

"Shit, Trunks," she explodes, "I just learned that you're going out with another girl, just saw you with her, and on top of it you've been cheating her with me, and my heart… broke, my blood pressure dropped, I hurt my ankle, my head is spinning and you want me to think about a pharmacy!?? I didn't think about it!! I didn't think!!"

"I'm not going out with another girl. She's very clingy and… you weren't here… You went out with those guys too!!"

"How pretty. I told you every time. I didn't touch them. She was all over you today… and that in front of everyone's eyes… What else would you two do alone together, wouldn't you…?"

"No. I didn't touch her. I swear it. We're only friends! I've told her not to touch me… that…"

"I don't care. Look, Trunks, it's your life and you can do whatever you want with it. The truth is that I don't care."

"But I do, Pan! What I want to do with my life is to have you in it…!"

"Ssht…! I don't believe you want to get me really angry… I'm going away… We'll see each other around… I have to come back after fixing some things…"

"Don't go…"

"Good-bye, Trunks. I guess I'll come tomorrow or the day after… I don't know. I'll ask your secretary for an appointment… it wouldn't be her, wouldn't it…?"

"Pan, stop it… Please… Listen to me…!"

"Come on, talk…! What do you want me to hear?"

"She and I never dated," he starts, his words almost tripping themselves in his hurry, "we went out to the movies a couple of times because Bra forced me to. I don't feel anything for her. These past two years have been horrible, without you!! I was very depressed and Bra wanted to help me out… It's you whom I love… I love you. Even if I never told you so, I love you deeply, madly even… Not having you in two years was dreadful! Try to understand me…! You decided to go away without even asking me what I wanted and all because I never had the balls to tell you that I loved you, I love you, that I not only want to be with you when we're alone but that I want to shout to the world that I love you, that we're happy together! I want to spend the rest of my life with you, don't you understand?! But if you distance yourself from me… if you become angry now and I lose you… I'll die, Panny. Out of grief. What I want is that you forgive me and go out with me, spend all the time I can with you, all day, if possible, that you marry me, when some more time has passed, that you forget this… Look at this house, Pan, for God's sake…! Look at everything around you… it's ours, my angel…! This is our home! Look at the furniture, we chose it together. We chose the house together. We decorated it together. Do you really think I would have done all this, only for myself? When I look at this house I see you. I see our future, a future I hoped it would be very happy, together, I see our wedding and our children here… You know I love you. Even if you think now that I've cheated on you, you know it. If you mattered to me as little as you think would I have given you the study, or the dress, or anything at all? You know I love you. Tell me you know…!"

"Are you… finished…?", whispers her, gaze fixed on the wall.

"Almost. Almost…", hesitates, him trying to find somewhere to hold on. "Will you… marry me…?"

"Come on, Trunks…!, yells her, looking at him in the eyes for an instant, and the going back to staring at the wall.

"I say it seriously!!", yells him, sensing he's running out of time again.

"Dou you think it's so easy, to undo what… what you have done…?"

"No… You say. I really blew it, uh…?", he says, resigning himself, hopeless.

She looks at him for a moment and rests her head on his shoulder.

"Well, you did… a little. But it's that everything has been so weird, wasn't it…? I mean… that I went away, and everything…"

He nods, caressing her hair with his hand.

"Listen… Forget what I said last, if you want to… but… but tell me that we haven't lost each other forever, Panny..."

"She… she was nothing to you, wasn't she…?"

"No… She never meant anything to me. Just reminded me of whom I didn't have…"

"I don't want to lose you either, Trunks… I… You won't believe it… but…"

She becomes silent, and he looks at her out of the corner of his eye, she is still resting her head on his shoulder.

"But… what?"

She comes closer to him and hugs him, concealing herself from his sight.

"That I love you too…"

He hugs her tighter and kisses her head.

"Do you think… that someday… you could forgive me…?"

She shrugs.

"I wasn't angry with you…"

He nods sadly.

"Disappointed, then…"

"No… Only… jealous…", answers her, still hidden.

"You don't have any reason for it, to be jealous. We were just friends. You can believe me… Do you still trust me…?"

She separates herself from him to look at him in the eye.

"Yes"

"Then, believe me. I never touched her. I don't feel anything for her. You don't have any reasons to be jealous… not a one. I love you. And the only girl I'll ever want to touch -and I'll want to a lot…- it's you…"

She finally smiles and meets his gaze fixedly.

"I still need some paracetamol, dearest…"

Remembering it suddenly, he smiles worriedly and gives it to her.

"Are you all right…?"

"Just a bit nauseous, that's it… I love you a lot, do you know it…? I've been wishing to tell you for years…"

With a small yelp, he hugs her very tightly.

"Then you forgive me…?!"

"What else…! I still haven't learned how to live without you… Of course I forgive you. And, yes, I will marry you… unless you want me to forget it…"

"Are you kidding or what?! Are you serious…? Sure…?" He pauses until she nods, and hugs her tightly again. "Oh, Panny!! I love you so much! I'm so happy!"

"Me too, Toran, me too…" She answers, smiling, put without partaking of his enthusiasm. "Carry me to bed, please…", adds her after a pause "I… I don't feel too well…"

"What's wrong…?"

"Nothing… Well, I hope…! I haven't got used yet to having two little saiyans on my tummy…"

"Wh… What?

"I'm pregnant of twins, T-chan. You didn't expect me to still be taking the pill, did you…?"

"Pregnant… We'll have… two children?!"

"At the least… there's two different Ki… but…"

"Panny…! Panny!!", shouts him, with a huge grin on his face, and hugging her tighter than her stomach would have wished.

"I love you too, Toran…!", she manages to say, after a pause. And, feeling strong enough to move a little, she kisses him on the cheek, which he hurries up to answer with a lot more little kisses everywhere his lips could reach.

"Mmchuik! Mmchuik!! Mmchuik!!! Mmchuik!!!!"