Raindrops

18: Listen Before I Go

"Back here again," Trunks stated bitterly, tapping the toe of his dress shoes against the cement. He stood outside the spherical building, waiting for someone to come to the door as he watched the visage of his mother appear. "Shit."

He watched as the bluenette cracked open the door, watching her slightly wrinkled face burst into light. "Trunks?" She asked, her cerulean eyes tearing up, "Son...I-" The hybrid watched with the slightest pang of guilt wrack over him, his voice tangled in his throat as he watched his mother hold in her tears. Only slightly.

It was a game of who could hold out their pride longer, either side not wanting to admit where things went wrong. Rather, they wished to point fingers. "Mom," it was the first time he'd spoken to her in months. He sighed defeatedly, remembering what his sister told him.

He wanted to get better. He wanted to feel weak.

But there was an ever-persistent feeling drilled into his psyche, that weakness was bad. He recalled the times he wanted to feel weak around Marron, even around her...he knew his walls weren't fully down, and perhaps they'd never be. It wasn't safe to be who he was.

"Trunks...I know you've been avoiding me..." Bulma muttered softly, eyes staring off to the side before daring to peer into her son's expression. In an attempt to decipher what went through his head. It reminded her of the same troubled look Vegeta had when something troubled him, he was closed off. "I'm not trying anymore, I'm not going to beg you for attention."

Trunks shook his head. "I never wanted you to beg," Trunks began.

His mother closed the door behind her, stepping toward him. "Come," Bulma motioned the hybrid in her direction. "We need to talk."

Trunks obliged, trailing behind his mother through the greenhouse walkway by the entrance of the Capsule Corp Mansion. The thick humidity of the glass dome penetrated their nostrils as they wafted through the thick greenery. He watched her sit in the white metal chair, her hand motioning over to the chair adjacent.

"Trunks," Bulma began, her voice filled with purpose. "I've been reading the earning reports for Capsule Corp, it's been..."

"Doing well," Trunks responded smugly, arms folded over his chest as he cocked his head. He wasn't going to let her get to him, he knew that's what she wanted. "I know."

"Yes, your work has been fantastic, but—" Bulma began eyeing him with suspicion, "you still have areas to work in, see there are issues with your—"

Issues. A common phrase for his mother to throw around, but it didn't sit right with him. "I didn't come here to be patronized by you, Mom," Trunks stressed, he could already feel himself losing restraint with himself the further he got.

The air was thick as the two gazed at each other with intensity. Bulma watched her son, there was definitely something off about him. His usual air of confidence seemed to be torn away, like the shell she'd helped cultivate to shield him from insecurity has been shattered. There was something in his deep-set bags that sent warning alarms in her head. Unstable perhaps?

She hadn't really gotten a good look at him until now. "I think you need to communicate with your family, Trunks," Bulma responded, attempting to shield herself from her son's silver-tongued attacks. "I think you might not be doing enough fo—"

Immediately she bit her tongue, watching as Trunks' expression grew from an unsteady silence into one of pure anger. It was unusual to see her son in such a state, his eerie silence making her more nervous as to what verbal assault he'd uncharacteristically dish out at her. For some ungodly reason, it wouldn't click with her why Trunks was behaving in such a manner.