Chapter Text
Bulla dragged her pencil across the blue-lined sheet in front of her, softly etching another absent doodle. With twenty minutes left in the last class of the week, the teen was officially checked out.
There was a light tap on her calf and she glanced at the floor, noting a ball of rolled up paper. Checking curiously behind her, Bulla saw her friend, Nisa, glaring at her and pointing her pen in short stabbing motions at the paper ball.
Opening it up, Bulla read in messy scrawl, Check your phone!
The teen slipped her hand to the inside pocket of her blazer, brushing past an empty gum wrapper and half-filled tube of berry-flavoured lip gloss, and snuck a look at her phone, seeing a handful of unread messages.
> let's do something after class
> i'm thinking smoothies.
> Ooo shopping?
> probably more like window shopping. I'm still broke after last month.
> omg Case is totally staring at you.
> i'm gonna take a picture and show you later
> Bulla!
Once Bulla had read through them all, she snorted and responded by sneaking her friend a thumbs up under her armpit.
> thumbs up for smoothies or thumbs up for Case still being completely obsessed with you ?
This time, Bulla rolled her eyes.
> smoothies. Case can do what he wants, it's not my business.
All she got back in reply was a series of flame pictograms.
When the final bell rang, Bulla made sure not to linger. It was Friday and little could tempt her to stay on school grounds any longer than she had to. But more importantly, if Nisa wasn't exaggerating about Case, and Bulla had reason to believe her, she didn't want to give him the opportunity to catch her.
"I'll meet you at the gates," Nisa said, straightening her notes before shoving them into her tartan backpack while Bulla headed for the door. "I just need to find Mr Rue and ask for that extension."
Once in the hallway, amongst the sea of textbooks, beige chinos and squeaking rubber soles, Bulla caught a glimpse of Case's distinctive dark hair and pointy profile. As tempting as it was to turn the other direction and take the long way to her locker, she kept her gaze ahead.
"Bulla."
Dammit.
She pretended not to hear him and continued to her locker.
"Bulla," he said again, catching up to her and lightly grasping her shoulder.
She paused and turned her head to his hand coolly.
"Sorry," he said, instantly pulling it away. "Habit. Do you have a second?"
"That was your second," she replied.
His face and shoulders both slumped, expression dwindling to one more visibly defeated. "Don't be like that," he said quietly.
Since it seemed she'd been roped into this interaction despite her attempts at a clean exit, Bulla took the opportunity to unload her arms and drop her books, homework included, into her locker. They were next week's problem.
"What do you want, Case?" She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes before shutting her locker door and turning to face him.
"I want us to be cool again." He sighed, leaning his head to the adjacent locker. "I miss you."
Bulla sighed too. He was making this hard.
"Can we hang out later?" he said, popping back up again. "Just as friends, I swear. My best Fridays always had you in them."
Convicted as she liked to think she was in her decision to keep Case out of her life for the foreseeable future, she'd be lying if she said she hadn't felt a tiny flip in her chest at the suggestion. She too had missed their Friday evening hangouts. It left a gaping hole in her week that, as of late, had been filled with self-doubt about her decision to break things off in the first place.
"I'm… heading out with Nisa after this," she answered after a moment’s hesitation.
"Afterwards," he quickly countered. "She has diving practice at six so you'll be free from then, right?"
Bulla was starting to get uncomfortable. The thing to do was put her foot down and say, Yes I'm free, but I still don't want to spend that time with you, but she couldn't bring herself to be that harsh. Besides, she didn't want to completely annihilate any chance at the two of them patching things up enough to eventually become friends again.
She weighed up her options, trying to construct an answer that found the delicate compromise between "No" and "I don't want you to hate me" but everything she thought of only saved her for one day, leaving him open to ask about future Fridays.
"I…" Her lips parted and closed like a fish's as she sought her perfect response before catching a glimpse of a guitar case heading into the nearby music room. "Have band practice."
"Band practice?" This clearly wasn't the answer he was expecting. "But you don't play any instruments."
"I do now," she said, unflinching.
Crap. She winced internally. Why did I have to go with something so easily debunked?
"What do you play?" His expression shifted and she couldn't tell whether he was suspicious of her lie or genuinely interested in her picking up a new hobby.
"Bass," Bulla answered equally confidently. "Guitar, I mean. Bass guitar."
She glanced at her phone, pretending to check her messages. "I really need to go. Nisa's waiting for me."
He let her pass without another word, much to Bulla's relief. If break ups only hurt in the period immediately after things ended, life would be so much easier. Instead, they dragged and festered, sometimes healing, hardening and scabbing over before the smallest interaction or memory had them tearing and weeping all over again as though the cut were fresh.
Once through the glass doors and on the red brick path to the main gates, Bulla's phone buzzed in her blazer.
Nisa.
> i'm taking ages, I know. sorry! rue's offered to help me with that assignment. can we meet in like 30 minutes? he needs to pick up his kids soon so I promise it won't be longer than that
Bulla supposed she should call her brother to let him know she wouldn't be needing a ride home. West City High School was central enough one could just walk to the city centre and she was quite looking forward to a girl's afternoon out.
She searched for his contact. Similar as their numbers were, she still hadn't committed his to memory.
Trent
Trev
Trink
Trun-
As she reached Trunks' entry, Bulla heard his voice coming from the doors she'd just exited through, distinctive to her ear as an old favourite song playing in a crowded room.
He was waving at some kids Bulla recognized as his usual crew but had his head down as he scanned whatever sheet was in his hand.
"Congratulations," he said without looking up, sensing her approaching presence.
"For what?" She looked at him with narrowed eyes. Bulla knew her brother well enough to pick up this was not real praise.
"Achieving your lifelong dream and joining a band." He was wearing his signature winning smile, the lurking smug expression only deepening when her eyes widened in surprise.
"How have you already heard about this?" Bulla burst, then followed more softly, "I only said it five minutes ago."
"How have I known you this long and still not learned you play the bass?" He continued his teasing. “And here I thought we told each other everything.”
“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes but turned to walk in step with him. “I needed him to leave me alone and it seemed like the best story at the time.”
“Really?” Trunks chuckled and she could tell he was genuinely amused. “That you have practice for a band that doesn’t exist, playing an instrument you’ve never even touched?"
"I had to come up with something on the fly." She fidgeted with the ends of her hair laying across her bag strap, feeling sheepish justifying her story to her brother. "I needed to fill my Fridays with something believable so he wouldn’t keep asking me. Besides, is it really that ridiculous that I’d play in a band?”
Trunks stared blankly at her, entirely unaffected by her awkward navigation of school-life post-breakup. “Yes.”
It was one of those moments where Bulla could have smacked him for his characteristic bluntness, though she had the simultaneous thought that he was one of the only people in the world she could trust not to bullshit her.
"So anyway." Bulla stopped walking and looked at the busy road beyond the school gates, air cars honking and zipping out of the student parking lot while passengers squealed and called their goodbyes.
Yes, she was looking forward to the bustle of the city overwhelming her senses, distracting her with it's shiny trinkets and urban cacophony and leaving little room for idle thoughts of self-doubt and relationship angst. "As much as I've missed you since Calculus," Bulla said, checking the time on her phone. "I'm heading out with Nisa soon. I came looking for you to say don't wait for me." She held up a peace sign as she turned away.
“I’m not going home anyway,” he said. "But before you head off, can you do me a quick favour?"
Temptation urged her to give a flat No , but she didn't have anything else to do while she waited another twenty minutes for Nisa so she entertained him. "Only if it's on my way to where I'm already going."
"I've got to check on my Chem experiment and set up the next stage for the weekend.” Trunks slipped his backpack off his shoulder and lowered it to the brick footpath, scratching around inside until he found a multi-coloured chart. “Can you let Goten know to meet me in the parking lot in half-an-hour? I can't be late."
Bulla stared at him, baffled. "We've all got phones, Trunks. Just call him and tell him yourself."
"You think I haven't thought of that? Hey, I know you like to think you're the smart twin but give me a little credit."
Bulla scoffed. I am the smart twin
"I've already sent him four messages and tried calling him like three times but it just rings forever until it reaches that stupid voicemail. He really needs to change that thing…" Trunks rambled on, getting distracted.
"Okay okay, I'll find him."
She had already pinpointed the aforementioned teen's ki and it was in the direction of Mr. Rue's classroom. From what she could tell, Goten wasn't alone and she quickly deduced why he was unreachable.
She turned on her heel, reminding herself to pulse her own ki a few times as she approached him to give him a chance to sort himself out.
"Oh and Bulla," Trunks called out.
" Yes." She didn't bother masking her impatience as she turned around. Why couldn't she just enjoy an afternoon in the city without all these goddamn delays and interruptions?
"He asked me about it.”
For the first time since they’d seen each other this afternoon, Trunks was giving her his genuine, undivided attention. And without a sneaking smirk underneath either. “That's how I heard."
"Who asked you about wha-"
Her eyes widened.
Oh.
Would Trunks have lied for her? How could he? He wouldn't even have known her yarn by that point, even if he was willing to cover for her.
"Don't look at me like that." He reared his head, acting offended. "You really think I would have sold out?"
"What did you say to him?" Bulla was so fixed on him, she would have heard his sweat drop if a bead had formed.
"I said of course it was true." He had such an easiness to him, twins or not, in that moment Bulla wondered how readily she would be able to tell when her brother was lying.
"Do you think he believed you?"
Trunks ran his fingers through his hair and paused, as though considering whether it was time to get it cut. "I'd say so."
"What makes you say that?" She hadn't realised until then how hard she'd been gripping the strap on her backpack.
"Because I told him we were in the band together."
As she'd promised herself she would, Bulla let her ki spike three times while she approached Goten on the rear side of the school assembly. He had a particular reputation at West City High and, in her experience, it wasn't without good reason.
Despite taking her time to reach him and giving him what she thought to be ample time to right himself, Bulla still came upon the teen as he was slipping his school shirt back over his head while his friend straightened her own, leaving the two of them looking decidedly unkempt. His hair, shaggy as it was, was even more tousled than usual and his eyes had a dazed look to them that made Bulla shudder.
"Bulla." He grinned, acting as though the scene she'd just come upon was entirely innocuous despite both parties' cheeks being completely flushed while their lips were swollen and pink. "What's up?"
"I'm here on behalf of the Chastity Club," she said, folding her arms and lifting her nose.
This is actually a pretty great spot, she thought to herself, eyeing the quiet nook as she pretended to judge him.
No one ventured to this part of the grounds and he'd found himself a shaded patch that was built up off the earth, saving him the inconvenience of getting dirt and leaves all through his uniform when he inevitably snuck off with the latest object of his affection.
"We're selecting a new president and your name was put forward as being the embodiment of good, clean family values," she continued. "What do you say?"
Goten's companion burst into laughter and Bulla offered her a warm smile, pretending to not be in on the joke.
"Sign me up." Goten hopped off the concrete pad and continued buttoning his shirt as he stepped towards her. "I've never done anything that would bring shame to my mother's name."
Bulla raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the declaration.
"I'm gonna go," his friend said, fluffing out her hair before giving Goten a sultry look and pushing aside the bush Bulla entered through minutes before.
"I'll call you," Goten said after her.
"Sorry," Bulla said once they were alone. And she meant it. Bulla had no interest in coming between two horny teenagers looking to let off steam after class, especially when they had the decency to do it far from watchful eyes.
"Don't be." He waved her off with a beatific smile, seeming as though he meant it too. "I sensed you coming. I know you tried to warn me."
Bulla caught a glimpse of his taut stomach as he tucked his shirt back into his pants and found herself momentarily distracted while he fastened his belt.
"So," he said as she zoned back in. "Why were you out here looking for me?"
"Right." She snapped back to the present.
Suddenly it felt strange being alone with him in this place, so quiet and isolated. Bulla turned and made her way to the exit, snaking through the prickly bushes until she was spat out on the other side.
"Trunks was trying to get hold of you," she said once outside the thicket.
Goten followed soon after and Bulla took a minute to flick all the leaves and thorns she'd attracted off her school sweater. Without prompting, he helped her by plucking a twig that had gotten caught in her headband.
Bulla dusted his shoulders in turn. He'd missed the first few buttons of his school shirt, revealing his neck and collar bone, and in the brighter light Bulla found it hard to ignore the telltale hickey marks all along the exposed skin.
Chi-Chi would die, she couldn't help but giggle to herself. No. More like kill him instead.
"Hey isn't that your boyfriend?"
Goten nodded behind her and she followed his gaze without thinking.
Case was walking in their direction with a growing look of confusion. It appeared he was initially headed for the set of doors behind them but the sight of the pair distracted him.
"You're still here?" he said, a small frown forming. "I thought you were heading off with Nisa?"
"I am," Bulla replied, suddenly feeling flushed and awkward as though she'd been caught in a lie. "She was taking a while so I thought I'd…" She directed her hands to Goten before trailing off when she realised that was a mistake. The other half-Saiyan didn't skip a beat as he offered a friendly wave but Bulla could see the gears turning in Case's head as he eyed the same marks on Goten's neck Bulla had been snickering over a few seconds before.
"I didn't-," she stuttered. "We didn't-."
Bulla was tripping over herself, trying to explain what she knew had to be going through his mind right then but everything just sounded like a guilty cover up.
Case's mouth betrayed a hint of a disbelieving smile before he nodded, turned around and walked off.
"Hmm," Goten said, arms folded as he considered Bulla's departing ex.
"What?" Bulla murmured, feeling sick as she wondered what Case must think of her.
"I just never figured you'd be into the quiet type," he said, picking another leaf from her hair.
Bulla sank into her quilt with a satisfied exhale as the cool, feather-light strokes of the polish bristles swiped across her fingernails.
"So what are you going to name it?"
She lifted one side of her eye mask to look at the engrossed twelve-year-old in front of her. Bulla had been so relaxed, with her flannel pyjamas, velvet neck pillow and fluffy blue slippers, she'd forgotten what they were even talking about.
"Name what?" Bulla replied, raising her free hand to rub her eye with one of her knuckles.
She was met with a swat as she did so. "It's still wet!" Marron cried. "Don't ruin it, I want to see how it dries."
Bulla dutifully placed her palm back on the board she had commandeered from her mother's workshop earlier that evening in an effort to give the preteen a makeshift salon work surface. The tiny blossoms were a little rough, and there was the occasional colour smudge outside the borders but overall they were remarkably well done considering it was one of Marron’s first attempts.
The doorbell rang and both girls' heads turned. Bulla listened for footsteps, hoping someone else was available to answer but she was out of luck. Her father was in his gravity room, Bulma was paying a visit to Videl, and Trunks was, judging by his energy signature, in the shower.
Even so, Bulla remained still. Maybe the visitor would go away if they thought no one was home.
The door chimed once more.
“Are you going to let Goten in?” Marron asked innocently, pulling away and popping her brush back in its pot.
Dammit. Bulla held in a sigh as she reluctantly swung one foot off the bed and then the other. “Of course.” She forced a smile. Stupid boys always ruining my zen.
“Yo,” Goten greeted when she opened the door. His eyes were on the marble statue on the front step depicting a woman draped in loose, flowing fabric with one breast partially exposed. “Is that new?”
Bulla rolled her eyes and stepped out of the way. “Trunks is in his room.” She had begun turning to retreat up the stairs to her bedroom when she heard Goten start to laugh, lightly at first before breaking into a cackle.
“What the hell happened to you?” He tugged at one of the many mini sprouts of hair sticking out from her head.
“Don’t mess with that,” Marron called, watching him from the top of the stairs. “I’m still busy!”
Bulla might have been annoyed at his gall to laugh at her openly in her own house, but let it slide this time given she’d answered the door in her dad’s old pyjamas while a glittery eye mask sat atop her head accompanied by what she could only imagine were a thousand miniature pink butterfly clips Marron had carefully placed throughout her hair.
“Also, why are you at home?” he said more quietly, trying to avoid doing anything further to earn Marron’s scrutiny as he stepped inside.
“Didn’t get the memo?” Bulla said with a half smile. “I’m the only person at West City High with nothing to do tonight.” She turned to look up the stairs. “Thankfully, Marron took pity on me and cleared out her schedule to make me pretty.”
The aforementioned pre-teen beamed from her spot at the top of the staircase, offering the pair a peace sign. At that moment, Trunks’ bedroom door opened, Marron's gaze drifted and her cheerful expression slipped. Suddenly, her ordinarily pale cheeks bloomed pink while she shifted mousily out of the way.
Trunks appeared moments later at the second floor landing, still covered in water droplets while he kept a loose grip of the towel at his waist. “Hey, man,” he called down. “Give me a minute, alright?”
Goten gave a lazy wave to the elder half-Saiyan, barely paying attention. “So what’s this I hear about you being in a band?”
If Bulla had been drinking anything at that moment, she would have snorted it right out of her nose. “Kami in heaven,” she uttered under her breath. “I’m not in a band,” Bulla answered more clearly. “Though, don’t go spreading that around either.”
Goten furrowed his brows at her, confused.
“It’s a long story.”
She headed for the fridge, suddenly peckish, with Goten following after her, along with Marron who had since thawed and decided to join the two teens downstairs.
Bulla first handed the youngest the last slice of her grandmother's strawberry cheesecake before scratching around for something for herself and Goten, eventually settling on raspberry iced-teas for each of them.
“Hey, Marron,” Goten said after cracking his tab and taking a sip. “What are the chances you'll let me have a sample of that cake?"
Bulla was about to tell her not to give in to him when the pre-teen answered, "Slim to none," as she delivered an especially large forkful to her mouth.
"Cold," he said, sucking in air between his teeth. "What if I offered something in return?” He slid closer. “Like-"
"You don't have anything I want," Marron cut him off, licking the back of her fork.
Bulla watched in delight as the twelve-year-old completely rebuffed his attempts at charm and persuasion, in that moment only having eyes for her pink slice of heaven.
"Well well well." Trunks' quick footsteps could be heard as he made his way down the stairs. "Isn't this an interesting development?"
The smile faded from Bulla's face as she saw what he was holding, embarrassment creeping in in its place.
He was standing in the kitchen in a pair of dark jeans, feet and chest bare apart from the wide leather strap across his right shoulder connected to the aqua-toned guitar he gripped with his left hand.
"What's this?" He looked up, grinning at his sister.
"A bass guitar, obviously. What are you doing in my room, snoop?"
He continued smiling, ignoring the second half of her comment. "When did you get this? Is it yours?"
"Yeah, it's mine," she replied, looking away as she folded her arms.
Goten wandered towards him, notions of swindling a young girl out of her dessert slowly dissolving as he eyed it up before plucking one of the strings.
"Can I?" He turned to look at Bulla.
"Go ahead." She shrugged. "I don't know what I was thinking." It's not like she had ever intended on actually going along with the tale. "I saw it in a window today while I was out with Nisa. The colour caught my eye and next thing I knew, it was in my room."
She turned to look at her guest, who she realised had gone quiet while the boys fussed over the shiny new distraction. The attachment Marron had shown to her cheesecake moments before was nowhere to be seen as it sat half-eaten on the granite bench in front of her. The fork had even tumbled off the side plate without her notice, leaving little splatters of pink across the bench.
Bulla couldn't help but smile to herself as she watched the young girl's face, once again growing red, while her gaze flitted between Bulla's brother and the Briefs kitchen floor.
The teen’s attention was pulled away when she heard a familiar tune coming from the unplugged guitar, surprised to see Goten nodding his head, eyes on the fretboard as he played the simple bassline of an old rock song.
“Uhm.” Bulla laughed. “Since when did you play the bass?”
“I don’t,” he answered, pausing and resting his fingers on the strings as he flashed her a smile. “Why, do I look like I do?” Goten lifted the strap over his head and passed the guitar to Bulla. “I’ve just messed around on Trunks’ electric one enough times, I guess,” he added when she didn’t answer.
“Bulla, show them what you were playing earlier!” Marron said, pressing her hands into the benchtop excitedly.
Trunks raised an eyebrow and Bulla waved her hand in his face. “Don’t look at me like that. It was nothing, I just thought I’d give it a try.” He continued giving her a knowing look. “I have no idea what I’m doing!” she insisted, heading towards the stairs while she clutched the guitar by the neck, cognizant that she was moments away from finding herself cornered enough to actually make a fool out of herself in front of everyone. “Don’t be too excited, guys. I just got it on a whim, okay? I’ll probably forget I even bought it this time next week.”
Marron bounced after her, giving Trunks a brief wave before she and Bulla made their way back to her room.
Sneak peek of a future instalment? 👀
