On the eve of her final semester at the West City Starfleet Academy, Bulma stood on the balcony surrounding her dorm building and gazed at the stars. It had been a long road, adjusting to the culture of Earth and its mostly-human inhabitants. On nights like these, when the stars spread without number across the sky, she felt the pain of homesickness and longing for the distant world which she still called home. Only four months remained until she could return and visit her family before embarking on her career.
The campus sprawled out before her. Lights illuminated the ground and revealed a network of pathways that connected all of the buildings; they wound through gardens and small, well-kept patches of forest before disappearing over the rolling hills. On this evening, Bulma could see a few other night owls like herself making their way back to their dorms to get what little rest they could before the big day.
The next morning, as she left her dorm for the first class of the semester, somebody caught Bulma's wrist before she exited the building. She whipped around to make her rebuke, but quickly swallowed her words when she realized who stood before her.
"We're in the same class," Prince Vegeta said. His serious expression sat handsomely on his angular face, and Bulma noted with appreciation the way his muscular body looked in the cadet red of their fourth-year uniforms. "Perhaps we can walk together." There was a gruffness to his voice that hadn't been present before winter break, like something had happened back home that now weighed on his mind.
"Prince Vegeta," she said, dropping into a perfectly-executed Saiyan gesture of obeisance, covertly eyeing him up and down as she bowed with a gentle smirk on her lips.
"Stand up straight, woman," Prince Vegeta said, his face flushed. "You know that we are equals here." The intensity of his gaze penetrated hers, and she was the first to crack.
A wide grin spread across her face and, though she felt like hugging him, she settled for a playful punch on the shoulder. "I missed you, ya jerk," she said, falling into step beside him as he continued forward. "Earth doesn't feel quite like Vegeta-sei without you."
"This planet will never be like Vegeta-sei," Vegeta scoffed at the comparison. "It is far too mild."
"Still, it's good to have you back," Bulma continued. Her heartbeat sped up as he returned her gaze with those thoughtful eyes that made her feel like he could read every emotion trapped beneath her carefully-crafted veneer. It grew brittle every time they separated, and she feared— or maybe hoped—that the next time they met after a long hiatus, something was gonna give.
"I suppose Vegeta-sei wasn't the same without you, either," Vegeta replied, face devoid of expression. "You're lucky you're only an ambassador's daughter. I had to suffer all manner of diplomatic tedium while I was away."
"Don't they understand the meaning of the word 'vacation'?" Bulma asked, arms crossed. "If I were you, I'd make sure they gave me a poolside seat and a piña colada for the trouble."
"There's no equivalent word in the Saiyan vocabulary," Vegeta said drily. "Though I suppose it would have been a little more bearable, had you been present."
"You sure have a strange way of saying 'missed you too, Bulma," she teased. "But I'll take what I can get." She gave him a nudge with her shoulder to throw him off-balance, but he was prepared and barely swayed an inch, raising his eyebrows at her all the while.
As they approached the door to their classroom, she turned to him and stopped. They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, talking over each other, stopping, and then trying to let the other go first. Before either of them could spit out a sentence, they were pushed apart by an influx of cadets and caught up in the throng, scrambling to find a good first-day seat in the lecture hall. By the time Bulma sat down, she realized that he was clear across the room.
After class, Vegeta caught up with Bulma as she left. "Dinner tonight?"
"That's usually when I eat it, yes," Bulma replied with a quirk of her eyebrow and a chuckle at Vegeta's exasperation. "The usual place?"
"I thought maybe we could try something new."
"What's this? The prince, breaking out of his shell?" Bulma laughed. "What did they do to you on Vegeta-sei?"
"It's part of my new self-actualization," Vegeta replied, tone serious but intention quite the opposite.
"I don't know if I like change," Bulma said, eyebrows raising. A challenge.
"Don't be so stubborn," Vegeta said with a haughty air. "You are the one who told me I needed to 'explore my options'."
"But that's what you love about me, isn't it? When I make you step out of your comfort zone?"
"Tch," Vegeta replied, though there was no venom in it.
It was during a mid-semester cram session that Bulma realized the distinct shift in Vegeta's disposition toward her. It had started a few weeks ago when she walked to class alone for the first time because he'd already gone without her. He never waited for her in the morning again. They still ate together, but he'd begun to feel cold and distant—remaining silent and leaving right afterward like he couldn't wait to get away from her. And when Bulma tried inviting him to campus events or to do homework together, he withdrew even further into himself.
Initially, Bulma chalked it up to graduation nerves. Their ship assignments were going to be announced in a few short weeks, and the practical aspect of their final year would begin shortly after that. He also had obligations on Vegeta-sei. Maybe he was too caught up in worrying about the future, like she did on the nights when she was left alone with her thoughts.
She wasn't even sure why she was taking it so personally.
In as gentle a way as she knew how, so as not to offend his Saiyan pride, Bulma sat beside Vegeta one evening during spring break on the quad and asked him what the fuck was up.
Vegeta turned to gape at her momentarily before collecting himself, closing his mouth and turning away to hide his surprise. He shook his head wordlessly.
"C'mon," Bulma badgered him. "Is it something I did? Oh, god, is it because you hate my new deodorant?"
"You wouldn't understand," Vegeta groused and wrapped his arms around his knees in an uncharacteristic gesture of insecurity. The jerk didn't even crack a smile at her self-deprecating joke.
"Try me," Bulma said, pushing his shoulder. She would get through to him yet, break him out of whatever funk he'd gotten himself into. If anybody could get through all those layers that he shrouded himself with, it was her.
"You musn't," Vegeta said, wrenching from her touch. "It's not proper to touch Saiyan royalty. You know that."
She did know that. And she also knew that they were on Earth, away from the prying and judgemental eyes of the Saiyan High Command. It hadn't stopped them before; their camaraderie and upbringing had brought them closer than any other human or Saiyan they knew. And she touched him all the time. Punches to the shoulder in jest, arm drunkenly thrown around his neck after a weekend of partying, a consoling pat on the hand when he hadn't done as well as he'd hoped on an exam… she'd done it all. So forgive her if she was a little incensed. "Geez, sorry, your highness," she said, opening her palms flat in a mocking gesture of retreat. "I didn't realize I was talking to His Majesty today."
Though the early-morning frosts of winter had long passed, Vegeta's response chilled Bulma to the bone. "I am facing pressures that you could never understand," he said slowly, condescendingly. "I have responsibilities toward my people."
"I know that," Bulma said, trying her best not to take offense. As much as she felt like a Saiyan sometimes, she was 100% human. "My dad's the human ambassador to Vegeta-sei. You think I don't understand responsibility? So what's really the problem?"
Vegeta's face flushed crimson and he turned away. "I don't want to talk about it here," he stated. "There are too many people around." The quad was mostly empty, and the only people nearby were far enough away that Bulma was sure they wouldn't hear or wouldn't care about the conversation. Nonetheless, she obliged him.
"Then why don't we head back to my dorm? My roommate's away for the break."
Vegeta shook his head vehemently. "I don't think that's a good idea."
Bulma threw her hands in the air with exasperation. "You're impossible! What could be so bad that you can't just tell me?"
Vegeta sucked in a sharp breath through his nostrils. His tail, wrapped firmly around his waist, twitched with agitation. "Because I don't want things to change," he said so quietly that she almost missed it.
Bulma sat back and relaxed a little. "You know we'll always be friends, right?"
Vegeta's dark eyes fixated on her from under his bangs. "Let's go to your dorm, then," he acquiesced, but Bulma knew by his expression it was against his better judgement.
If only she could figure out why.