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The first time Trunks saw the young Gohan, standing among people he knew and trusted, but Trunks had only ever heard stories of, he realized he was beginning to forget things about his dead master. It was a little ache in his chest that was given too much time to grow during the hot few hours of waiting for Son Goku.
The first thing Trunks wanted to do was compare, so he stole tiny glances he could get away with here and there.
The most obvious difference was age. For some reason, he had never seen a picture of the younger Gohan of his timeline, so seeing the large, polite eyes, not yet wrought of hope was interesting. There was also the small stature, and the baby fat that still clung to his cheeks - how old was this Gohan anyway? He'd have to ask later when the scorching heat and awkward silence weren't so stuffy.
Then there was the… attitude? Outlook on the world? They hadn't had an actual conversation yet, but seeing how this Gohan reacted and intermingled - seeing he was just another part of the crowd, quizzical and silent, not yet isolated and powerful. It was jarring. He wondered what it would take to turn this Gohan into the one he knew - or if that would happen at all.
Finally, there was his power level - or his lack thereof. Obviously, this Gohan wouldn't be as strong as his former master, but the spike between the two was exponential. It seemed as if Gohan hadn't even gone super Saiyan yet either, and Trunks knew that wasn't a cause of age - he was only thirteen when he was pushed past the limit.
Why did this one seem… so unmotivated to fight, though? So meek and quiet, much more likely to be on the sidelines than in the main ring.
Did it really take everyone he knew and loved dying to push him to fight? Why hadn't Trunks realized they were one and the same when he still had his master to talk to?
"Excuse me, sir, is something the matter?"
Trunks flinched and blinked out of his own mind, eyes focusing on the boy sitting only a few yards away. That easily got everyone else's attention, seeing as no one else had been talking. Trunks shrunk under it all.
"No, sorry, I was just… zoning out," Trunks looked down at the no longer cold beverage can in his hand.
"Oh, alright." Of course, the weight of Trunks words went over the boys head - he didn't even know who Trunks was.
It hurt.
Trunks wanted to remember his master vividly now - maybe it would be more a source of comfort than staring at some kid who was barely a copy of the person he once knew.
Trunks wanted to remember his Son Gohan.
---
"What was I like - in your timeline, I mean. You said I died, right? Wait- I'm sorry, you don't have to talk about future me then if you don't want to."
Trunks watched Gohan - the young one, the one who was still alive, the one still so full of hope - with a small smile, almost laughing as he fumbled to be courteous and empathetic, despite the vast curiosity Trunk knew he harbored.
"It's alright, I can talk about him. It's been a while since he died - in my timeline at least." Trunks looked out at the ocean surrounding Kame house, waves lapping at both of their feet as they sat in the sand.
He continued, knowing he had Gohan's attention. "He was… Well, he was my mentor. The first one I ever had, actually. You already know, all of the other Z Fighters died in my timeline before I even knew how to fight, so… it was just myself for a while, trying and being pretty lousy at training with no one to guide me." Trunks turned his head back to Gohan, smiling warmly as he recalled his master.
Gohan was wide-eyed, obviously enthralled. He was probably thinking, 'How could I be the sole survivor, much less a teacher to someone way stronger than me?'. Trunks continued.
"Then you offered to help me. I didn't see it then because… well, I had nothing to compare it to, but- your fighting style - it really reminds me of Piccolo's." Trunks could've been wrong, but he thought he saw the boy grow a little misty-eyed at that, his suspicions all but confirmed when Gohan turned away, bashful as he laughed nervously and wiped at his eyes.
"I'm sorry Trunks, it's just-," he fell quiet for a few seconds, trying to find the right words. "I won't ever know that mindset, since you've come to tell us what will happen and we've prepared. I'm not going to watch all of my friends die one by one because they'll know what to do now." He laughed softly.
"I don't know if I- the Gohan you knew- talked about it, but Piccolo was my mentor too. He taught me how to fight and fend for myself. So just… Imagining that the Gohan you knew - the me who lost everything - kept Piccolo's honor alive in how he fought and trained you…" His lips thinned, and he never concluded his train of thought, but Trunks knew what he meant. He felt it every time he fought, thinking of the man who trained him.
"Yeah, I know what you mean Gohan."
They fell silent, and Trunks was still a little awkward around people - especially around younger versions of friends who've died - but when he placed a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing it in a solace he knew how to give, he thought it felt right.
---
“I’m gonna miss you, Trunks.”
The teen looked up from where he leaned against one of the trees in the Brief’s yard, staring down at Gohan’s smiling face. There was a bitterness behind it though - he had no doubt Gohan was putting on a brave face for everyone since finding out about his father’s choice, wanting to show that since he was okay, everyone should be too. Trunk’s understood it. It also brought back that familiar ache in his chest every time he talked with the young boy.
“I could say the same to you, Gohan. I think I’ve done my job here though - still got a couple of androids to take care of back home, you know?” Trunks forced a small smile.
The younger hummed and looked back towards where everyone else was gathered, chatting and celebrating in their own little way before they had to part ways with the teen who came from the future and changed their lives. He turned back to Trunks, smile slipping a little bit more.
“Mind if I stay here a little while?” Trunks shook his head to show he didn’t, sliding down the tree until he sat in the soft artificial grass of the yard, Gohan gracefully crossing his legs into his lap as he lowered himself as well. The two enjoyed the peaceful silence for a while, both observing the familiar crowd. Gohan laughed when Krillin poured a few ice cubes down Yamcha’s shirt, Trunk’s quirking his own smile as his young mother coddled the baby Trunks a few feet away with her mother.
When Gohan broke the silence, it was a bit jarring.
“Was it this hard for you too?”
Trunks blinked and looked towards the boy, who had his own eyes trained towards the ground.
“What do you mean?” Gohan’s lip quivered, brows furrowing as he dug a shaky hand into the plastic grass, obviously trying to keep it together.
“When I died in the future… How did you deal with it?”
Trunks’ expression steeled as he turned away, immediately understanding what the half-Saiyan meant. The pain of loss was just as difficult the first time as it was the second; Trunks may not have known Goku like everyone else, but the hurt and frustration resonated the same when he heard his denial to be brought back. He never brought up how unreasonably bitter and jealous it made him - that this timeline would always have the dragon balls at hand to fix a problem, but when
Gohan died without a word to get in, he would never be able to get him back. And Goku had the opportunity.
“I don’t know if you can say I did. I just… kept going with my life. Then one night, I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat with the image of his lifeless body below me. Then I stopped crying at every mention of him. And now…” Trunks looked back to Gohan, seeing his face was pulled tight, eyes red and wet with the threat of tears overflowing.
“Now… it’s hard to even picture him vividly in my mind.”
Gohan forced himself to look away, hastily wiping at fallen tears. Trunks’ heart ached for him again - this kid didn’t deserve to grow up so fast.
Then again, neither did he. But it’s what the world called for from both of them.
“Do you…” Gohan took a quiet shaky breath. “Do you still miss him?”
Trunks looked back over the small crowd of people he had come to call his own friends, no longer just stories from his mother. He remembered a time when his Gohan
his only friend, and smiled.
“All the time. But you know what?” Trunks grunted as he pushed on his knees to stand up, extending a hand to Gohan. The younger blinked at it, before grabbing it and hoisting himself up as well. Trunks’ smile grew as he put a hand on the boy’s shoulder; the one who would never be his master - the one who would probably never have him as a pupil.
“As long as you never forget him, everything will turn out okay.”
At that moment, before Trunks pulled Gohan into a tight hug that neither of them would ever get again, he ingrained the boy's face into his memory; along with his voice, his stature, and his ever polite personality. Trunks thought, ‘Just as much as my master, you deserve to be remembered by everyone for what you did, Gohan…’
The embrace was needed, both clutching onto one another and ruffling ironed clothes. Gohan shook with silent sobs, and Trunks so dearly wanted to do the same, but he feared his emotions wouldn’t come out until much later. It was a nice moment, feeling as if it went on forever when it was probably just a few seconds. But when they pulled away, both were smiling.
“I promise I’ll never forget you, Trunks.” The Briefs’ squeezed Gohan’s shoulder in a wordless reply, before nodding and letting go, stepping back to walk towards the rest of the crew.
It was time to go home, and he swore that this time, he would cherish every second of what he had gotten with the one named Son Gohan.