Trunks slammed the door behind him, startling his mother.
“Trunks?” she called, placing a hand over the receiver. “Is that—” She cut off, growling back into the phone. “ChiChi, I think he’s pretty aware of what the hell he did, alright?…No I’m not going to make him apologize—…ChiChi!…” After a few minutes, she slammed down the phone, shook her head, and chased after her son.
“Trunks? Is that you?”
Through the hole in the living room wall, she concluded it was, and ran to catch up with him.
“Trunks, Trunks, would you please talk to me?”
He stopped, turning his head to look at her over his shoulder. She stood a few steps down, a hand on the wall—or nervously fidgeting where the wall had once been.
“Trunks?”
He sighed, and turned, sitting down on the step and taking his head into his hands.
She could only sit and stare at him. Less then 24 hours ago, the same question had taken him past the limits of sanity—even sanity in this household. And yet, now, here he was, sitting on the stairs, listening to her…
Bulma hesitated, studying her son a little closer.
He was crying.
His shoulders shook—ever so slightly, but the jerky movements, though miniscule, were still there. He was controlling his breathing, but every so often he squeaked, or drew in a pained and shaking gasp. His hands weren’t supporting his head, they were holding it, vise-like, his knuckles white from the pressure he was putting on his own skull. In one of them, he gripped a tattered piece of orange cloth—it looked like Pan’s old bandana.
Bulma moved to comfort him, but froze as she heard a footstep in the kitchen.
Vegeta.
Grinding her teeth, she shot forward and grabbed Trunks chin, jerking his face up to look at her. He looked so guilty, so betrayed, so pained—his eyes were in complete shock.
“That’s it, Mister, get your ass up to your room and wait for me to deal with you! I’ve had enough of your bullshit—in case you haven’t noticed, I’m human! Which means I can’t take as much shit as the rest of this household! And even if I could, I wouldn’t stand for it! Now, get your ass up there and wait for me!”
Trunks stared at her, then sneered angrily and shoved her off of him—not enough to justify a shove, just enough to slap her hand away, and stormed up the stairs.