Entanglement, by Tapho.
Bulla x Gohan.
a/n; :) 'ello, love. Well I'm Tapho, & I'm finally posting a story on after having an account since...forever. Yeah. See what had happened was...
Well, I have a story that I've written about B-chan & Gohan. I'm kind of a sucka for odd couples, & that's mostly what I'll write about. With the exception of Bulma x Vegeta. I love them together!
I'm a little rusty on my writing (it's been a minute) & I'm not a DBZ encyclopedia, but I do love the series. This won't be a story adhering to the canon storyline naturally, since Bulla & Gohan aren't even close in age (but they kinda are in my story). See, I'll explain discrepancies at the end of the chapter-you just read & tell me what you think! I won't make it too outrageous, I promise. My first fic'll be a little tame.
A little.
(That's code for LEMONZ later).
Oh God, okay. I'm totally wasting your time here. Just read! & enjoy it! Or don't, I'm not the boss of you!
(You'll enjoy it). :|
Disclaimer: I'm making royalties off this shit, hell yeah.
(j/k, don't sue me).
Chapter One: Early to Bed, Early to Rise (But Late to Bed, Late to Class)
Bulla ran down the eerily empty halls. Each of her steps echoed against the walls & doors, reminding her of just how tardy she was this morning-on her first day of university courses.
348B-! Her nimble feet stopped just in front of her destination. Her fingers squeezed the notebook she held as she peered in the window. Nearly a full house.
"Shit," she muttered in disdain. All eyes would be drawn to her as soon as she walked in. Unless you're quiet about it, she told herself.
Taking a shallow breath, she turned the knob.
CLICK. The door wouldn't allow Bulla a peaceful entry, as it squeaked the entire way open. She mentally cursed it, walking inside gingerly-shutting the offending door behind her.
Step. Step. Step. Step. Bulla practically tiptoed to the lecture seats, her aqua eyes focused on a vacant seat in the very top row, in a corner where she could disappear.
Some eyes were on her; she ignored them. Her sprightly legs hopped up the stairs & make it to the finish line for victory. She sat, crossing her legs. Her eyes reluctantly focused on the professor.
He was still lecturing, but his eyes were on her. She bit her lip, waiting to be scolded. Instead, he smirked-barely noticeable, but there. Bulla beamed a smile, offering a quick little wave. He turned back to the whiteboard, scribbling more equations.
Ditched punishment this time.
She opened her notebook, aiming to begin taking notes-until she gazed at her reflection in the small mirror tucked in the notebook's pocket. Taking it from its confines, she studied her face more closely, examining her makeup & hair. Everything seemed to be in order.
She looked about the classroom, glancing at the students around her. They seemed so...young. Bulla began attending this university just today, & she was probably older than most of the students in this class. At the age of 24, Bulla enrolled at the constant nagging suggestions from her mother. Although she could easily inherit part of her mom's company, Capsule Corporation, Bulma wanted her daughter to be fully ready for the duties it entailed. Her older brother Trunks finished college & even obtained his Master's degree, which Bulma insisted that Bulla do as well.
Bulla adjusted her t-shirt. She didn't look bad for a 24-year-old. She could still pass for a mature 19. Her unique blue hair was bundled atop her head in a cutely messy bun, with strands that were loosely framing her face. Her earlobes had a simple diamond earring on each. Her t-shirt was fitted, the front with a popular logo printed on it. Her skinny jeans fit snugly, framing her curvy legs. Her feet sported the latest popular, expensive sneaker.
Not a day over 19, Bulla declared to herself gleefully. As she sat her mirror down, she noticed the bustle of students shifting & moving about. Class was over.
Already? She didn't realize just how late she was. Picking up her notebook, she hurried down the lecture seating, hoping to make an exit as quickly as possible.
"Uh, Ms. Briefs-may I speak with you a moment?"
Shit.
Bulla stopped, her face turning to the professor that stood at his podium. She approached warily. So maybe she only delayed her punishment...
"Hi, Gohan," she began. "-uhm. Professor Son. Sorry."
"It's fine," he assured with a smile. "It takes some getting used to." Bulla nodded in agreement. She'd known Gohan her entire life as a friend of her family's. To now become her professor would take a bit of getting used to. "Well, I wanted to speak with you, about being late for class-"
"It won't happen again!" Bulla blurted out. "I overslept, & traffic was hell."
"I understand," Gohan replied with a nod. "Just be careful. Attendance is very important in college, as is paying attention when you finally do make it here..."
Bulla felt embarrassment creep up her neck. "I'm sorry. I had to check my makeup, you know. Girl stuff."
"I'll let it slide this time," he assured with a nod. "Next time, though..."
"There won't be a next time!" she countered, walking away. "Later!" Gohan waved, adjusting his glasses with his other hand. He figured having Bulla in his introductory physics class wouldn't exactly be a walk in the park. Bulma had warned him ahead of time, after all.
She turned around, just before leaving. "Did you always have those?"
"What?" he asked curiously.
"Those glasses. I've never seen you wear them before," Bulla noted.
"O-oh." His cheeks reddened. "I just wear them for my classes."
"Ah." Bulla gave him a final little wave before disappearing.
Gohan shook his head, removing the frames from his face.
He parked his car in its ordinary spot, turning off the engine, & with it the headlights. Darkness enveloped him as he got out of his sleek sedan, slamming the door shut-pulling the handle to make sure that it was locked.
Lights among the parking lot cast a dismal glow as he made his way to his complex building. Most of everyone was asleep by now, with front door lights on, lights off inside. He climbed up steps, his goal aiming for the fifth floor. He could hear some things, like TV sets. A barking dog. A couple arguing.
Finally, his quest ventured to his floor. The very top floor, though the building was short in comparison to other apartment complexes in the city. He rather liked his building, his floor especially. His neighbors were typically people who more often than not kept to themselves.
Gohan checked his watch. A quarter 'til 11. Pretty late this evening. He had to endure faculty meetings made especially for the first day of classes, as well as prepare new lesson plans for the upcoming month.
He unlocked his front door, walking into pitch darkness. He walked over to the lamp's position in which he memorized by heart by now, & turned it on. It cast a dim glow about the living room-it was bright enough to see, but ambient enough to relax. His shoes he kicked off anywhere, & he loosened his tie to pull off.
"Hungry," he said to himself, walking to the kitchen. Gohan knew there would be nothing satisfactory-not compared to his mother's food. Yet, he settled for preparing ramen-his fall-back quickie when he was too tired to think anymore, much less cook a meal.
Taking the easy way out, he poured water in a bowl & dumped the ramen inside. He proceeded to stick the bowl in the microwave, turning it on HIGH.
Hopeless, Gohan thought of himself when it came to domestic matters such as these. His mother would do everything-cook, clean...he was spoiled in that sense. He would certainly try, make no doubt about that. But he never promised to be any good.
By now he shrugged his suit jacket off, hanging it on the back of the sofa. He unbuttoned his shirt halfway, rolling up his sleeves. He turned on his TV, turning channels aimlessly until he reached a national news channel. It was good to stay current with events.
The microwave chirped, & Gohan retrieved his dinner. He stirred a bit to make sure that the noodles were cooked right, & after finding that they were he took them to the living room.
He sat cross-legged on the sofa, & nimbly used his chopsticks to eat. His eyes focused on the television, but his mind anywhere but.
In the background, pictures of family & friends decorated the wall. He stared at the picture of his own family-he, Videl, & Pan, all grown up now.
Gohan's eyes softened, gazing at his daughter. Time did fly. He could remember carrying his daughter on his shoulders, & now she was a young lady in her last year of high school.
& Videl. Time was good to her-still as beautiful as ever. Though there was a vague emptiness that filled his soul that he couldn't explain. Their relationship had become...boring. Predictable. He would never tell her that, of course. He hated admitting that fact to himself. But it was the truth. Videl seemed content with it, while Gohan wanted to change it. No matter how much he pushed for date nights, or new positions or tricks in bed...Videl shrugged them off, or flatly refused. She was very much a routinist. Gohan thought that he was too, until recently.
He twirled his chopsticks in his ramen aimlessly. He purchased this apartment to be closer to the city, to the university he taught at. Gohan stayed in it during the weekdays, & he came back home to Videl & Pan on the weekends. Videl didn't seem to mind, or didn't care. When he was at home he would come back late, & she would be asleep by that time. When Gohan would wake in the morning, Videl would be gone for work already.
Kisses were rare, except for the routine pecks on the cheek or lips every now & then. Even so, they didn't create the spark they once had.
So the apartment was a sensible choice. At least so he reasoned.
Gohan turned off his TV & placed his unfinished ramen on the coffee table in front of him. Sleep was calling him, & he had no intention of ignoring it.
"How was your first day in Gohan's class, sweetie?" Bulma asked her daughter earnestly, setting plates for the family dinner.
"Fine," Bulla answered with a shrug, setting the cutlery.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I was late." She waited for her mother to explode, but she didn't so Bulla continued. "Gohan didn't care, though. Well, he cared, but I'm not expelled or anything. It was just once."
"Let it be the last," her mother scolded. "Did you at least like it? He's a pretty good professor, huh?"
Bulla paused in thought. She hadn't actually paid attention. "Yeah. He's very...smart."
"I just knew you'd like going to university. Just imagine, in a few years you'll be able to run Capsule Corp. right alongside your brother!"
"Oh, mom." She dreaded talking about the company, much less school. "Can I at least graduate first?"
"Of course, sweetie."
Dinner passed, & Bulla said her good nights. She trotted to her bedroom upstairs—the same she's had all her life.
"I need my own place," she mused to herself, looking around. Wasn't the beauty of college being away from home, enjoying parties & boys without worrying that her father will pummel them? He's always know anyway, Bulla smiled to herself, noting her father's rather overprotective nature. She always had a tough time dating in high school; she imagined college no different.
Bulla settled into bed, having completed her nightly rituals—a wash-up, make-up removal, hair brushing, & such. She settled into her plush sheets, hugging a pillow as she picked up her cell phone from the nightstand. Texts, oodles of texts. Her phone lit up from all sorts of notifications, & she answered them one-by-one.
She yawned, & began to place her phone back down. She stopped midway, a thought crossing her mind.
Bulla bit her lower lip, & her thumb touched the button that would show her the contacts that she had saved. She scrolled through the list slowly, until she hit a particular name.
Gohan.
She'd never texted him before, but his phone number was always saved in the case that she needed it. Bulla never did, but it seemed compelling to contact him now, as late as it was.
What would she say? Bulla pondered carefully, before deciding on a very simple message:
Sorry I was late. Class was fun. :)
& Bulla pushed SEND. She hoped he knew it was her—or even had her number still.
After waiting for awhile with no response, Bulla powered off her phone & fell into a soft slumber.
Gohan was quite exhausted, & just before midnight he dumped himself in bed. Beforehand he tossed his smartphone on his nightstand, & shimmied out of his professional clothes into more comfortable ones. He wasted no time jumping in bed, & very soon after drifted into sleep—unaware of his phone lighting up, a text message delivered but yet to have been read.
a/n; :D Welllll? What'd you think? Hope you liked it! I'll post the next chapter if people aren't bashing their heads in brick walls because my 'fic was just that unbearable.
Uhmmm. Things to explain that I find of importance:
-Gohan's glasses—I'm 90% sure that he wears them all the time, but in my imaginary world, he doesn't. He only wears them while working to appear smarter. Hence, Bulla's comment about never seeing him wear them before.
-Pan's age—I don't want to start a war over the age discrepancies between B-chan & Pan. In actuality, they're very close in age; I believe Pan may actually be a year older? Well in this 'fic, she's younger than Bulla by quite a bit. It'll make my story make sense later, due to some scenes I have concocting in my brain. It adds more internal conflict as well. More on that later. Specifically, Bulla is 26, Pan is 18. Gohan's around...late 40s, early 50s? That's kind of ew, but not really, because he's still hot.
-routinist ?- I spent about 5 minutes racking my head about how to spell it, even if it technically isn't a word. I think. Routine-ist? Ugh.
omg, okay, rambling much?
'til the next chapter.
-Tapho
