Autumn was coming. The fatal climax to a sweltering, long summer with too much sun and too little to do with myself. Winds and drops in temperature would sweep away the life of the leaves, plummeting them into the deadening blankets of pale yellow grass. Then, very faintly in West City, hints of snow would drop in the form of whispering snowflakes that would burst into droplets of ice upon contact with one's uncovered face and hands.

I was not looking forward to it, as the change in weather also marked a current change in my life love.

What once was heated and passionate is now turning to silent ice. The unforeseen magic in the way things happened between us is now painfully evident to me more than ever. The beauty of it was, I never saw it coming. Me, the scientist and master calculator, could not put two and two together to see that my heart was destined to be broken in such a violent and unpredictable tryst with a violent and unpredictable man.

Let's face it; I was a moth to the flame, a wolf to undead meat that suddenly sprang up and ate the wolf instead. I thought I was so clever, so cunning in landing someone who obviously had little to no emotional attachments in his life.

But little did I ever come to think that maybe, just MAYBE Bulma, there was a reason for that.

So here I am, at my bedroom window with nothing but sighs in between bouts of anger, sadness, and absolute confusion as what to do about this.

He's been holed up in his stupid gravity chamber for days. He only demands my father repair whatever goes wrong, and then I have to hear from my chortling mother about how hard he's working because it just seems to take my father away from her at least five hours every other day. If he eats, he only does so when he knows I'm not around.

Or maybe he really just doesn't care THAT much to avoid me. Maybe he's just completely forgotten that night...

But how?! It doesn't make sense to me. Any other guy on this planet would KILL to have such a night with me, and they wouldn't act like such an insensitive jerk afterwards either.

That's the thing. He isn't any other guy. And he has killed before, many times, one those times being my ex-boyfriend.

Oh, the irony. Not only did I specifically wish to have a Prince of my own someday, but he managed to kill the one person I thought I ever loved in the process of breaking my heart. I can see his eyes now as he did so, cold and bloodthirsty as he watched Yamcha get slaughtered by a Saibaman and heated and ravenous as he stole my innocent self-preservation.

Then my heart stopped, the retospective thoughts encircling my mind coming to a complete halt. There he was! His hair reaching high in the sun-showered sky, his face upward in his arrogant confidence, shoulders back and built like the rest of his iron physique. And those eyes, those obsidian holes of mystique and the occasional shadow of an emotion, but mostly the icy superiority that pierces and steals any confidence one might have while simultaneously posing as menacing threats to their survival..

Which I knew because they were staring right into me through my window.