Chapter Text
Marron glanced at her new phone, her features displaying annoyance as she stared at the abundance of text messages that her boss had sent her over the span of a few hours. It was quite exhausting for her to look at but she knew she would much rather be looking at this than tormenting herself with thoughts of the night before.
Her hips were achingly sore, no thanks to his antics. It was a throbbing reminder of the way he held her like she meant something. It was a Saturday morning and she had the unique displeasure of being bothered by Trunks Briefs about another meeting that he decided to set up himself.
How and when he managed to pull those strings was beyond her, given the fact he had visited his sister the day before and her that same evening.
“Wake up,” A woman’s melodic voice sang out, triggering Marron’s eyes to fly open at the sound. Now she welcomed the sight of a tanned brunette poking her cheek, her long curly hair swept to the side as her brown eyes watched her intently. “You’re gonna have to start paying rent soon.”
She didn’t remember exactly how she ended up at her best friend’s house. She knew there was a cab ride, maybe some crying but the night dissolved into fragments of maybes and could-have-beens the moment she slipped out of his apartment.
But regardless, she laid there letting the throbbing waves of her headache hit her. “Val–” Marron groaned, “Ugh, what time—”
Valese snickered as she sat beside her. “Don’t worry, it’s eight o'clock—I know you gotta walk right back into hell again,” she sighed out as she handed Marron a cold bottle of water.
“Which one, home or work?” Marron spat out before opening the water bottle, downing the liquid almost completely. “Either way I’m fucked.”
“Thinking about Ryce again?” Valese asked as she sat beside her friend, “you are so, so past that point already Mare Mare.”
“Yeah, can you tell,” Marron groaned. “Even though we’ve been separated for months everything feels off.”
Sometimes it was the small things, the scent of a particular cologne. The sharp sound of a slammed door. Sometimes all it took was one small reminder to spiral her for the rest of the day.
“You know if Ryce got to do whatever the hell he wants, why can’t you?” Valese pressed as she sat beside her.
“Because then I’d be the same as him,” Marron grumbled as she leant back on the sofa.
“But you’re a free woman now,” Valese pressed, brushing a strand of Marron’s blonde hair behind her ear, “he can’t hurt you now.”
And yet somehow, Ryce still managed to leave permanent scars on her psyche…even in the aftermath of it all Marron remained scathed, battered and bruised. Although only those who knew her best would ever see the Marron Chestnut who searched for an escape from the world she previously lived in.
How could she ever remain free, when his memory still chained her down. How could she be free, when she sought comfort in the arms of men who didn’t even know her real name.
“So,” Valese continued, playing with the strands of her hair, “Are you ever…going to tell him?”
Marron sighed, she knew precisely what she was asking about and it was something that she considered completely out of the question. “Absolutely not,” she emphasized, as she took a sip of her water, “he can never know.”
“So what do you just plan ondoing, just endlessly fucking him as Hazzel?” Valese snorted, “sounds like way too much work just for a man.”
“He hates me, Val,” Marron emphasized, “the man genuinely can not be in my presence without bothering me or berating me.”
“Sounds like he has a crush,” Valese snickered. “Maybe he’s just jealous that Marron Chestnut has her whole life figured out while he doesn’t.”
Marron blinked at her, before she stretched her arms, “Yeah, sure, that’s one way to put it.”
“Hey! I am being serious, in fact I’d bet on it,” Valese said, poking Marron’s cheek. “You know I’m hardly ever wrong about these things.”
“Ugh, you and Rulah both are the same…” She groaned rolling her eyes, “I really should just end it.”
“Well, why haven’t you?” Valese asked, sitting beside her, crossing her legs. Marron cast a knowing glance towards her friend. That was the only response Valese needed. “Say less, I get it, the dick is too good.”
Marron’s ears tinged with red looking down at the floor. “Jeez, I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to, I can clock it from a mile away,” Valese sang out in amusement. “Just promise you’ll stop when it stops feeling good.”
“It really is a bad idea to keep doing this, do you know how difficult it is for me to focus with this man breathing down my neck and all I get are memories of what we did?” Marron groaned, throwing her face into her hands. “My god—this is way too much.”
“What… are you getting attached?”
“Fuck no!” She exclaimed.
“Is he?”
Marron paused thinking back to his reaction the day before when she asked about a lover. He had blushed as though he had one.
“He’s…a little incessant.” Marron hesitated, warming the bottle of water between her palms, “he’s trying to meet up outside of his apartment or hotel, for dinner or whatever and I just…”
“Ignore him?”
Marron paused, a devious smirk coming on her lips. “Well, I fill his planner so that he has no real wiggle room,” she snickered.
“You are evil!” Valese gasped, a light smack on Marron’s arm.
“That dickhead started it!” Marron grumbled as she stood up from the couch, “Anyway…Val I gotta get ready.”
“Bathrooms on the left,” Valese pointed, “go ahead and put on your cosplay.”
Marron forced a smile as she stood up. She wasn’t wrong, the Marron Chestnut that Trunks knew was not her. Who was she anyway? Maybe one day she’d remember.
The last thing Marron wanted to do was work on a Saturday, but it came with the territory of working at Capsule Corp and being an assistant. Sometimes, sacrifices are needed. She sat at her desk, dressed in her regular work attire typing away the final preparations in the reports that Trunks would need for this meeting with the heads of the other branches.
She glanced down at her wrist watch, noting the time. It was nearly twelve o’clock and Trunks still hasn’t graced her with his presence to review the meeting notes.
Typical of him.
Marron leaned back in her chair, her gaze meeting the ceiling as she rubbed the back of her neck. As if trying to will the tension that she felt out of her. She should have calculated for his chronic tardiness, besides, she knew what he was up to last night. Her stomach growled ferociously, it seemed it spoke for itself– she hadn’t eaten since the morning when she was at Valese’s.
The sound of an elevator ding brought her attention to the elevator door which swung the doors open to a more casually dressed Trunks, holding a brown paper bag in one hand and drinks in the other. The scent of cardamom and coriander filling the air, making her mouth water and stomach grumble even louder.
He strolled in, stopping right in front of her desk. He only wore slacks and a tucked in button up that left a few buttons open towards the top. She supposed it was expected—it was Saturday and no one should be in the office today.
He plopped the bag on her desk, a disarming smile on his lips begging for forgiveness. “Figured if I made you wait this long I may as well bring a peace offering,” he said smoothly. “Hope you like overpriced Dhanian food.”
Marron glanced down at the bag and back up to Trunks. One thing she knew was this smelled absolutely divine and she definitely wanted to devour this now but she was more surprised that he even thought to bring food as if he knew that she may have not eaten lunch yet.
She shouldn’t flatter herself, she tended to skip lunches to crunch more time into work. He probably was just being nice. She wasn’t sure if to thank him or chew him out for his lateness.
She opened the bag, observing the food inside which was certainly tempting her. “And here I thought your only kind of peace offering came with insults and increased workload.”
Trunks smirked, as he pulled out a box from the bag and cocked his head towards the kitchen on the office floor. “That’s the usual, but you get the deluxe Trunks Briefs assholery on the weekends.”
Marron rolled her eyes, but the comment did crack a smile on her lips. She followed him in and setting her food down on the table. “You know we still need to review the notes for the meeting tonight, those execs are going to drill into you,” she commented as she opened her box of food.
The food was warm, full of aromatic flavors and just a tad bit messy. It was curry after all. But that smell was grounding her at the moment. It allowed her to have the disconnect she desperately needed. Across from her sat Trunks, who ate as though nothing new had happened.
Like he didn’t have her bent over on all fours, dripping and moaning into a pillow less than twenty four hours ago. Her gaze glared at the pita bread as she tore a piece and gnawed on it.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Trunks said, stretching languidly in his chair. “Let’s cover it all now while we eat.”
Marron lifted her brows in surprise. “Wow, Mr. Briefs is multitasking?” she asked with a bit of sarcasm in her tone, “don’t tell me… next you’ll tell me you read the new budget proposition from the CFO.”
Trunks snorted before taking a bite out of his food. “Don’t test your luck, I’m not that eager to impress.”
He said it so lightly, almost like a passing comment. But his eyes flickered towards her for a moment too long, as though he scanned her for some kind of response.
For once the banter didn’t feel like they were at each other's throat. It seemed Trunks was cooperating, probably because he had a good night the night before…but she was welcoming the more laid back attitude they were carrying on with.
Marron found a corner near the bar, her back facing the private dining area as she reviewed the digital briefing notes she had put together for Trunks. She wasn’t here for drinks, she was here for work, however the silence in the restaurant gave her the distance she desperately needed to breathe.
Her clothes felt foreign on her body. It was certainly a slight change from her usual plain attire. The skirt suit she donned fit her perfectly and was tailored to her. A remnant to her days at Volta. She hoped it wouldn’t call too much attention to her.
She was ten minutes early, as per usual for her. The dining area was empty, save for the waitstaff who was adding final touches to the space, with crystal glasses and utensils being placed down perfectly.
A few minutes passed and she saw Trunks enter the building. His gaze scanned over the room, seemingly searching for her. But had to do a double take when he realized he missed her.
He was searching for Marron in a sleek bun and baggy slacks—this one had a sharper silhouette. She was dressed more sharply and arguably more refined. The white tweed blazer hugged her waist, the golden buttons on the blazer gleaming from the warm light. But that stern look in her eyes was enough for Trunks to recognize her.
“Oh, you’re here...I hardly recognized you.”
She looked up at him, her breath held for just a moment as she handed him the tablet. “Everything is ready to go, I marked the sections that they may try to corner you on.”
Trunks analyzed the overview, his brows lifted in response. “Nice,” Trunks complimented. “You’re getting scarily good at that.” It wasn’t flirtatious, Marron knew that…just appreciative.
His eyes didn’t remain on the tablet for very long…she wasn’t sure why, but it was making her skin crawl.
He took in her appearance slower this time around, the way her blonde hair curled around the gold frame of her glasses, it was an innocent strand of hair that framed her face. The gold threading interwoven into the fabric matched the muted gold on her heels.
“You clean up well, Ms. Chestnut,” he acknowledged. His gaze wasn’t lecherous by any means, it was more so awareness of her presence and that made Marron feel even more aware of herself.
Before she could reply, the door of the restaurant swung open as executives filed in, four men in total. All steely eyed, styled in sharp suits with calculated precision. She’s done this song and dance before with Nylon. She can handle them.
“Mr. Briefs,” one of the older executives greeted, extending a hand to him, “Thanks for treating us to this dinner, beats a cold room in HQ.”
“No problem,” Trunks replied, offering a fake smile. “West City’s got some of the best restaurants on Earth, a good place to expense a company dinner.”
One of the younger executives, around Trunks’ age, turned his attention to Marron. His smile was a bit too toothy, and eyes that tried too hard to be charming. Marron knew the type, she had to brace herself for a workplace microaggression.
Par for the course for a woman in this position.
“Ms. Chestnut, right?” He pointed, waiting for Marron’s polite nod, “You’re not based out of East City, right?”
Marron blinked, dumbfounded. “No, West.”
“Didn’t expect Mr. Briefs team to be so…well-rounded, you must make quite the impression in the boardroom,” he replied coolly, his gaze lingering along her silhouette until it landed on her face. “I don’t typically forget a face, especially one that looks like yours.”
Trunks’ eyes flickered towards the two, something unrecognizable brewing beneath his sapphire eyes. There was a quiet warning. Something about the way he leaned towards her, too close for his own comfort…it made Trunks’ pulse quicken and beat harder.
Why?
“You wouldn’t happen to know Ryce Keik, do you?” The man continued, with a laugh. It seemed he was emotionally inept, as a sudden tension suddenly appeared over the two of them. “Infrastructure guy?”
The name made her blood run cold. She knew working in the same company as him would lead to an eventual mention, but it still nauseated her. She forced a breath into her lungs for courage.
“Yes,” she replied softly, “I know him.”
“He’s a trip, I’ll tell ‘ya!” The man laughed as they began to shuffle into the dining room. “Talks like he’s three promotions higher than he is, super smart though…we got the guy on optimization mapping for our raw capsules supply.”
“Yeah,” Marron said, offering a practiced smile that seemed a little too perfect. “He’s persistent.”
Her back was a little too straight, her responses too canned. Her fingers curled tightly around the tablet and that’s when Trunks noticed, Marron was not irritated…she was restraining herself.
Trunks’ jaw clenched slightly as he held his hand up, not even looking any of the other executives in the eye. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, already moving past.
And he definitely didn’t like the way this young hot-shot was hovering over her, like a dog around a dinner table.
He stepped beside her, offering a soulless grin to the younger executive. “Mr. Walnu, Ms. Chestnut doesn’t work in infrastructure, she’s my executive assistant—she sits in on all high-level briefings.”
The man blinked in disbelief, not expecting Trunks to step in between their conversation. “My mistake, Mr. Briefs,” he responded with a dry chuckle, “I didn’t know she was off-limits.”
Trunks didn’t smile back. “She’s not but we are in a workplace environment.”
“It’s just harmless conversation, didn’t mean to cross the line,” Walnu attempted to fan the flames but the discomfort between the three only grew thicker.
“Keep it that way,” Trunks’ voice was easy-going but oddly firm, “she isn’t here for your entertainment.”
Marron couldn’t believe the scene that displayed in front of her. She didn’t need Trunks’ help to handle this man, she was more than capable to handle the situation herself. And yet, that same low and gravelly voice sent chills down her spine.
Mr. Walnu lifted his hands up, surrendering as he stepped back and found his seat at the table.
Marron turned her gaze to Trunks. Beneath her forced smile she looked up at him, “that wasn’t necessary.”
Trunks scoffed, “he was salivating over you like a dog in heat, it was completely inappropriate.”
“I appreciate you can recognize one of your own,” Marron teased.
“Let’s just go sit,” Trunks finally offered, letting her find her seat first.
Marron sat beside Trunks, her hand touching the menu tentatively. As she listened to the other executives banter, raucous laughter disrupted her train of thought as she tried to keep it together. She needed to.
Wine was poured around the table and Trunks watched her quiet and composed demeanor—that wasn’t out of the ordinary for her. What was is the tense shoulder and clenched jaw she had. As the waiter poured her drink a light splash landed on the white linen of the dining table.
Her gaze narrowed in on it.
“Are you going to clean it up, Mare Bear?”
Marron blinked hard, as she looked up at the panicked waiter once again. “It’s OK, no need to apologize.”
Trunks watched her with measured precision. She was impeccably dressed for once and he couldn’t stop glancing at her try as he might. She commanded attention without uttering a single word.
But Marron’s intensity as she glanced down at the stain twisted something in Trunks’ stomach. His brow furrowed. He knew Marron enough to know when something had cracked her icy exterior.
“Are you alright?” he murmured low enough for only her to hear.
His gravely voice startled her, she was not expecting him to drag her out of her spiral. She nodded as she took a sip of her drink. “Yes, sorry…I’m just tired.”
Trunks’ gaze didn’t want to tear from her, out of concern primarily but he decided not to push. Why should he care if his assistant is having personal problems…she always prided herself in separating herself from life and work.
Her hands remained folded over her lap, lying perfectly still. And though she was the image of perfect composure, inside her mind had drifted elsewhere.
5 Months Ago
Marron twisted her wedding band slowly, the metallic band felt like it was searing into her skin as she stood in front of her condo door. What was she to find when she stepped foot inside?
That was all up to her husband.
The arrangement she made with him was transactional. Once a month, he was allowed to indulge in his fantasies with his paramour under her strict conditions. Marron dictated where he could cum and when he could see her. He had been plagued with a lust that couldn't be quenched by his hands, and Marron, exhausted as always, simply couldn't keep up with his insurmountable desires.
As the door creaked open she slipped inside, she was careful not to disturb. Slipping her shoes off and placing them neatly by the door. As her bare feet gently stepped like a thief in her own home, she kept her ears tentatively listening to the rhythmic pace of her bed frame hitting the wall.
Soft creaks of the springs in the mattress as sensual pants and moans flitted in the air. “Ryce,” a familiar woman’s flighty voice glittered through sound waves. The scent of their musk is unbearable to Marron, making her stomach tie into knots. Moments like these she needed to remind herself that she…and she alone signed up for this life.
She was stuck in the echo chamber of her own misery. As she trailed around the corner she found herself in the kitchen, her hands grappling the sides of the counter. She knew the woman Ryce was inside with at that very moment.
Yoguri, five years Marron’s junior with a sexual appetite that seemed matched with Ryce’s. Their fateful meeting came after Ryce’s work trip to the Capsule Corp branch in East City, Marron never bothered asking too many details…she managed to put two and two together when her husband came home asking to open up their relationship.
A young flight attendant and a man with unchecked lust were a powerful mess of a combination. Marron agreed to have her come once a month—but then it continued to two days… a week…this last stint was a whole month. Marron hated when Yoguri stayed over, Ryce transformed into a sexual degenerate that was not the man she agreed to marry.
He demanded things of Marron that sent her head spinning, for the sake to satiate himself and his paramour. There was a time, Ryce was caring…when his eyes stayed on her, he asked her about her day, he kissed her, slept beside her, held her when she cried. She shared this space with him.
And now, Yoguri’s things inundated her space–her drawers, her mind and the space that was reserved just for Marron in Ryce’s heart. It wasn’t empowering her to feel any better about her current situation. She was thoroughly unhappy, but she loved Ryce.
She agreed to this.
She chose this.
She wanted this.
These phrases became her daily mantras, feeble attempts to save her marriage from utter collapse but…whenever she got home after a long shift assisting the CEO of Volta, she was greeted by a debauched household. It was an already humiliating position to be in–being degraded by her boss for the most minuscule of mistakes…but to also come home to her husband deep inside of another woman.
As the creaking slowed to a halt, there was a quiet that filled the air. “Mare,” Ryce’s voice bellowed through the apartment and it reverberated straight through her core. He wanted her to go in there, but Marron knew what would await her if she walked in there.
“Mare, come in here!” Yoguri’s voice giggled.
Marron crept towards the bedroom door slowly opening it bracing herself for what she would see when she opened the door. Once she did, she saw her metamour, Yoguri, laying there fully in the nude on her side of the bed.
Marron could gag at the sight. It churned her stomach to look at the two of them. It’s not because Yoguri was ugly, in fact she was a bit too beautiful, even when her pink hair was crazed from whatever they had been doing, and Ryce was simply tracing her curves with his fingertips. Admiring her figure, it certainly didn't make Marron feel any better about herself.
“Oh Marron, I didn’t even know you were here,” Yoguri giggled, her emerald eyes switching over to Ryce, as her long fingers traced through his golden curls. “We would have had you join us had we known,” she commented facetiously, her finger pressed to her lips before her voice devolved into another pitchy moan.
Marron tried her hardest not to grimace at the sight of them as she watched Ryce suckle on her breasts, his amber eyes watching her with lecherous intent.
Uneasy, the blonde began to shift her weight from one leg to another. “What exactly did you want me in here for?” Marron’s gaze rolled to the side, as if to give the two a sense of privacy.
“Babe can you clean it up?” he asked, a sickening smirk spreading on his sinful lips.
Marron looked at his face with a slack jaw, even in the state she was dressed in–her work clothes still strapped to her body– he had the gall to even say such a thing to her? Marron felt the slimy feeling grow within her as Yoguri began to giggle uncontrollably in the dead silence.
“No Ryce,” Marron pressed. “I told you I don’t like that shit.”
“Come on, you know I love it baby,” Ryce replied, his eyes filled with a sense of begging.
She watched as Yoguri spread her legs, revealing thick white liquid dripping down her sex. That was enough for her to feel the heat rise in her chest.
“Are you gonna clean it up, Mare bear?” Yoguri’s voice teased, finding delight in her disgust. Marron was convinced Yoguri was a despicable human being, she more than anyone was the most unkind to her in this whole arrangement.
“I–I can’t even—” Marron was rendered speechless. Her fuming anger wasn’t even veiled at this point. He came inside of her? A strict push on her boundaries, crossed once again. “I’m leaving, you guys can clean up after yourselves.”
Ryce jolted upright, panic flashing across his features. “Where the hell are you going?!”
Marron didn’t answer. She never would answer again.
The sound of the door slamming was all he needed to hear.
It was a sad sight that Trunks had never seen before.
Marron Chestnut, disheveled with her golden tresses tousled down, her fingers raking through her scalp. A highball glass of amber fluid sitting idly beside her. It was as if she was hiding from the world. Trunks couldn’t just ignore this, could he?
He knew he had a habit of pushing her too far, having her work such an important meeting on the weekend was part of it. But, for as irritating as she was…always sharp tongued, armed with an arsenal of comebacks— Trunks knew that she was a wickedly good assistant.
Potentially one of the best that he had ever had. Though he’d never admit it.
She was likely decompressing, and didn’t want to be around him. But somehow, he always seemed to interject himself when he knew she didn’t want to see him. As he approached her, he glanced at her glasses that were thrown off to the side.
However this display was not her typical standoffish composure that he had grown so accustomed to. No, this was someone totally different.
“The calm and composed—” Trunks began with dry amusement, reaching around her to grab the glass beside her as his arm draped lightly over her shoulders.
The motion startled her, as she flinched and pulled away. In doing so, Trunks immediately noticed the tears that strained her eyes, and something about the look in her eyes made his chest tighten.
What could have possibly caused her to be like this?
“Miss…Chestnut…”
The usual sharp edge in his voice was dulled. This was the closest proximity he’s gotten to her face. His heart was unsteady in his chest, painfully thumping at a deafening decibel. Perhaps it was the light, or maybe he never took the time to notice it but those pools of aquamarine rooted him to his seat.
Her cheeks were flushed and her lashes wet enough that they congealed together. Somehow, the dull assistant had arrested his breath and made him wonder how her drink tasted on her lips.
He was losing it. Certainly.
“Oh…Trunks,” her voice slurred softly as she leaned her head against him. “I’m so tired of it all.”
Trunks stiffened his entire body, though the weight was hardly there it felt as though a thousand tonnes were pressed against him. It seemed everything was reminding him of Hazzel, Marron’s eyes seemed to glisten the same way down to the way she said his first name.
It must have been the lack of having her around. Had to be.
“Tired of what?” he asked gently
“Stupid Ryce,” Marron groaned against his shoulder.
The name hit Trunks like a freight train. Ryce? Part of him was relieved he didn’t cause this situation, and of course, why would he do anything of the sort. But yet despite that, it still bothered him.
“Guy troubles?” Trunks asked, as his hand awkwardly pressed against her arm.
“The lot of them,” she sighed, “you especially.”
It may have been a throwaway line to Trunks, but to Marron, he was a new source of stress. With the increasing complications that his relationship with Hazzel had and her wanting to run desperately from him and just allow things to return back to the professionalism that she was always supposed to have.
He choked on his own laughter. “Me?” Trunks' voice was pitched in disbelief as he continued to observe her reaction. The lack of her clarity was a source of his personal discomfort. “What did I do?”
“Everything,” Marron groaned.
“That’s hardly fair,” Trunks rolled his eyes, before there was a pregnant pause settling between them. “So.. who’s Ryce,”
“My Ex.”
Trunks glanced back over to her, there was a surprise in how bitter her voice sounded. “This guy sounds like he was a real piece of work,”
“He was,” Marron huffed, “I can’t believe I married the guy.”
It suddenly dawned on Trunks that he knew next to nothing about his assistant. Something about imagining his assistant, who was such an antithesis of everything he believed a seductive woman would be had been touched in a way he couldn’t fathom… it bothered him.
Trunks’ gaze lifted curiously. “You were married, Ms. Chestnut?”
Marron Chestnut in a wedding dress, saying vows to the man she apparently loved…being close to said man. It made his chest twist in a way that felt so foreign. Why did he care to ask? He didn’t care. He shouldn’t.
After all, she was just his boring old assistant…right?
Marron drunkenly chuckled as she shook her head knowingly. “Technically, still am…but separated…I was never enough for the guy, he made a fool out of me every day,” Marron muttered as she focused on the drink sitting in front of her. “Shit…I don’t even think I know who I was by the time I got out of the relationship.”
There was a quiet pause as regret suddenly rang through her. She was opening up to Trunks right now, as Marron— she shouldn’t even be doing this but her judgement was so impaired that it was too easy to open up. Besides, the lines were blurring between Hazzel and her.
“Ugh, I told myself I wouldn’t talk to you about any of this,” Marron pressed her wrists against her eyes before she pushed the drink away.
Trunks watched her in silence, and was fully fascinated. It seems like once more his scientific curiosity of her inner mechanism got the best of him, it was intriguing seeing the Ice Queen that tormented him defrosting right before him. She seemed truly human to him now, and it was a disconcerting thought.
He was no stranger to her emotions. Trunks could tell, she was much like him in that aspect. The regret in the vulnerability, whether it be drunk or sober. In fact, he lived eternally in that shame and regret.
“You know, since you’re clearly impaired…I’ll let you in on a secret too, Ms. Chestnut…it’s one I haven’t told anyone so don’t go blabbing,” Trunks said as he took a swig from her drink, “I was engaged and still haven’t gotten over her yet.”
Somehow, through that liquid courage he was able to admit his truth. Those words that he never dared to utter every time he dared to think of love, of companionship…of her. If only, he hadn’t been who he was in his youth.
If only he still wasn’t the same man that sought women to drown the noise in his mind.
Perhaps that is what terrified him of Hazzel. Even if she was as elusive as they came, she managed to look him in the eye the way he always wished his ex-fiancee would. He lived in self pity, wanting to be loved and yet fearing it more than death itself.
“Sounds like you have it worse than me,” Marron said, her gaze pitying the man that sat beside her.
“You’re hilarious,” Trunks responded dryly. “But lately, it’s felt better, you will get through it too.”
Marron knew why—and she also knew that she would need to bring that newfound relief to a screeching halt for him. The unfortunate circumstance that she will need to reject and cut things off as Hazzel due to him getting too close, and too real.
At the very least…Marron knew that he would never go after her as herself. She will always be the bird with clipped wings that refused to fly for fear of falling violently to its death.
Marron’s eyes flickered on his lips, maybe it was the fact she was so beyond tipsy at the moment. But, much to her dismay, his lips looked so kissable, and he was holding her so close. But somehow she knew this wasn’t right.
She knew she was drunk, she knew every look and every touch was magnified. It was an odd encapsulation of a moment where she could have drunkenly believed he saw through her disguise and saw Marron instead of Hazzel.
The burning in her loins and the secrecy of Hazzel’s desires still broke the surface. That wild, reckless emotion of attraction was deadly.
And it stirred a forlorn feeling inside of her.
It wasn’t just the alcohol that was allowing the mask to slip, her boldness was present and breaking down Marron’s senses. Marron’s lips brushed against his cheek, her mind misty and full of fog as she pulled away.
“You’re a sweetie, sometimes.”
“S-Sweetie?” Trunks’s voice cracked, as his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. She must truly be more drunk than he imagined.
“You need to lie down, Ms. Chestnut,” he replied firmly, grasping her arms and holding her at arms length. Sirens blared in his head that this was not what she meant to do, this was the alcohol making her misbehave.
She took that cue to heart as her weary eyes closed as she leaned against him, falling soundly asleep. Somehow he ended up with Marron Chestnut resting beside him, quiet, flushed and vulnerable. And Trunks was unsure if he wanted to let her go.