I am SO SO SO SO SO sorry this took SO SO SO long to get out. .; I
wrote about three different drafts of the chapter, and finally decided on
one I liked. In all of them, the story was pretty much the same, but the
pace was set differently. I chose the one that would prolong my story for
the greatest amount of time. ;D Leave it to Molly to drag things out until
they're dead 10,000 times over. :: Winks :: Anyway, I hope I didn't loose
any readers over my half-death sort of thing that I had going for a while.
I've got personal excuses, though many wouldn't think of them as good ones.
At any rate, check out my website! I need hits!
http://www.geocities.com/kaos_katari/index.html
Bulma, in all of her misery, wept. She wept for herself, for Vegeta, for the times they never got to spend together. She knelt at the front gates of the Capsule Compound, crying into her hands, hot, callous tears spilling over her now reddened cheeks. The young genius couldn't remember a time when she'd shed more tears, not once in her life.
Early that morning, a very angry father, backed by two police officers, armed ones at that, had pulled Vegeta from her loving embrace. They had drug him, struggling as he had, straight out of the door and tossed him into a car, as if he was going to be arrested! 'And all just to go to some stupid military school,' she thought numbly to herself.
The blue haired girl didn't go to school that day, or the day after, or the one after that. None of her friends had heard about what happened, but none seemed worried. None came to check on her, not even Gokou, who always worried when someone went missing without a trace, not that it happened often. 'Maybe,' she mused, 'my parents told them.' But somehow, she doubted this. Her friends had betrayed her, and at the worst possible time.
So she sat in her own wretchedness engrossed in games and reading, lamenting the loss of her best friend and newly acquired lover. And that's how it was for the remainder of the year. Her day to day goings on were dreary, never ending, sleep, school, and sit at home and mope about.
Chichi and Eighteen had both drifted, over the year, over to the so- called 'popular' crowd, and left Bulma in all of her woe to fend for herself. But not once did she doubt that Vegeta would return to her, one day, and she silently vowed she would be there, waiting, every moment of every day that she possibly could. No, the loss of her 'friends' wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. 'Leave them to become babbling idiots that care about nothing more than their hair, clothes, and the captain of the cheerleading squad. See if I care.'
No, Bulma Briefs wasn't one to give up so easily, though, she figured, she would be going through some difficult times waiting for Vegeta.
Unbeknownst to her, Vegeta felt much of the same way, and acted such as well. He secluded himself from just about everyone at the academy he was attending, except for a few select boys who shared his bunk.
He had grown remarkably close to a golden haired boy named Sean, but yet, after close to a year, they never spoke of their pasts, Vegeta's painful, and Sean's never seemed to come up, or he had a very tactful way of avoiding the conversation.
Sean wasn't by any means a small boy, but he wasn't hefty, either. His weight was in muscle mass, as was Vegeta's, though he was a good half a hand taller than the flame-haired teenager was.
Exactly one year had passed since he and Bulma had confessed their everlasting love for each other, and unmercifully been torn from the other's clutches. It being a free day, a rare free day, for Vegeta, he sat on his bunk, in silence, in mourning. Not a day passed when he didn't think of her, and he had long since gotten over denying that he loved her. He didn't care if she was a weakness. She was HIS weakness, and HIS alone. He knew she wouldn't betray him, though he wasn't quite sure about those moron friends of hers.
They all seemed somewhat unstable to him, not that Vegeta considered himself stable by any means either, but he sure as hell knew a stable person when he saw one. They just seemed like they could be the type to turn their backs on her when she needed them the most, except for Kakarott. He was just too much of a fool to notice what was going on until it was too late and he had lost her trust completely.
Bulma's theory was simple; who in the hell needed friends when Vegeta would come back to her, eventually? She sighed inwardly. She did. Bulma couldn't deny that she wasn't lonely, and had the most intimate desire for a companion of sorts, but she had none. She sighed again, this time out loud, and finished her walk down the hallway, to her first period class, ready for yet another day of pointless torture. She knew everything there was to teach already, and was bored out of her mind. But she endured.
"HEY, VEG-HEAD!" Vegeta wheeled about in a full one-eighty rotation to come face to face with none other than Sean. He was huffing, thoroughly out of breath by the time he reached Vegeta, but the smile he wore, plastered across his face, told of good news. "They love our unit, I swear. They're graduating us with the rest of the senior officers and cadets. You get to go home, bro!" Vegeta, for once, smiled. Broad and unexpected, but above all, sincere.
Vegeta let one last smile grace his finely chiseled features before he walked off to begin packing.
Bulma, on the other hand, was a completely different story. She sat in a jail cell, across from the two girls she'd used to call best friends. Her arms inadvertently wrapped themselves around her own waist, pulling her trench even closer, around her head and neck. The smell of urine penetrated her sense of smell, and worry, and restlessness tugged at her mind. Bulma Briefs had been arrested. For assault and battery charges. But the two girls that had provoked it sat right in front of her. Her mind went hazy as she remembered the evening's events, play by play.
Bulma was leaning against a wall outside of the arcade, waiting on her father to come and pick her up; her car was in the shop, so he was her ride everywhere for the remainder of the week. She hated it. No, maybe hate wasn't a strong or passionate enough word. Loathed. Abhorred. But before he came, Chichi and Eighteen and sauntered up to her, poking fun at the little things they knew annoyed her. She told them to lay off, they didn't. Finally, after being called a bitch and a two-timing whore, she struck out like a cobra, filled with cold fury, and laced with venom. Her fist hit Chichi's nose first, blood dancing across onto her face in a barrage of droplets, effectively breaking the girl's 'perfect' nose. Next was Eighteen; she received a quick knee to the gut, and a fist in the back. She had gotten up first, and thrust a knife at Bulma's throat, which she efficiently swatted away, almost hitting an innocent stander by in the leg. Almost.
The next few hours were a blur; police, cars, handcuffs. Calling parents. All three of their parents thought it would be best if they stayed the night in the jail, just to learn a lesson.
Bulma sighed. This wasn't what she wanted. So she cried. But Chichi's voice broke her sobs.
"Bitch, why the hell are you crying? YOU'RE not the one with the fucking broken nose." Bulma frowned at her, red-rimmed eyes spiked with vehemence.
"I wouldn't care about that, anyway," She sighed, and with one last word, drifted into a restless sleep. "Vegeta…"
Bulma, in all of her misery, wept. She wept for herself, for Vegeta, for the times they never got to spend together. She knelt at the front gates of the Capsule Compound, crying into her hands, hot, callous tears spilling over her now reddened cheeks. The young genius couldn't remember a time when she'd shed more tears, not once in her life.
Early that morning, a very angry father, backed by two police officers, armed ones at that, had pulled Vegeta from her loving embrace. They had drug him, struggling as he had, straight out of the door and tossed him into a car, as if he was going to be arrested! 'And all just to go to some stupid military school,' she thought numbly to herself.
The blue haired girl didn't go to school that day, or the day after, or the one after that. None of her friends had heard about what happened, but none seemed worried. None came to check on her, not even Gokou, who always worried when someone went missing without a trace, not that it happened often. 'Maybe,' she mused, 'my parents told them.' But somehow, she doubted this. Her friends had betrayed her, and at the worst possible time.
So she sat in her own wretchedness engrossed in games and reading, lamenting the loss of her best friend and newly acquired lover. And that's how it was for the remainder of the year. Her day to day goings on were dreary, never ending, sleep, school, and sit at home and mope about.
Chichi and Eighteen had both drifted, over the year, over to the so- called 'popular' crowd, and left Bulma in all of her woe to fend for herself. But not once did she doubt that Vegeta would return to her, one day, and she silently vowed she would be there, waiting, every moment of every day that she possibly could. No, the loss of her 'friends' wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. 'Leave them to become babbling idiots that care about nothing more than their hair, clothes, and the captain of the cheerleading squad. See if I care.'
No, Bulma Briefs wasn't one to give up so easily, though, she figured, she would be going through some difficult times waiting for Vegeta.
Unbeknownst to her, Vegeta felt much of the same way, and acted such as well. He secluded himself from just about everyone at the academy he was attending, except for a few select boys who shared his bunk.
He had grown remarkably close to a golden haired boy named Sean, but yet, after close to a year, they never spoke of their pasts, Vegeta's painful, and Sean's never seemed to come up, or he had a very tactful way of avoiding the conversation.
Sean wasn't by any means a small boy, but he wasn't hefty, either. His weight was in muscle mass, as was Vegeta's, though he was a good half a hand taller than the flame-haired teenager was.
Exactly one year had passed since he and Bulma had confessed their everlasting love for each other, and unmercifully been torn from the other's clutches. It being a free day, a rare free day, for Vegeta, he sat on his bunk, in silence, in mourning. Not a day passed when he didn't think of her, and he had long since gotten over denying that he loved her. He didn't care if she was a weakness. She was HIS weakness, and HIS alone. He knew she wouldn't betray him, though he wasn't quite sure about those moron friends of hers.
They all seemed somewhat unstable to him, not that Vegeta considered himself stable by any means either, but he sure as hell knew a stable person when he saw one. They just seemed like they could be the type to turn their backs on her when she needed them the most, except for Kakarott. He was just too much of a fool to notice what was going on until it was too late and he had lost her trust completely.
Bulma's theory was simple; who in the hell needed friends when Vegeta would come back to her, eventually? She sighed inwardly. She did. Bulma couldn't deny that she wasn't lonely, and had the most intimate desire for a companion of sorts, but she had none. She sighed again, this time out loud, and finished her walk down the hallway, to her first period class, ready for yet another day of pointless torture. She knew everything there was to teach already, and was bored out of her mind. But she endured.
"HEY, VEG-HEAD!" Vegeta wheeled about in a full one-eighty rotation to come face to face with none other than Sean. He was huffing, thoroughly out of breath by the time he reached Vegeta, but the smile he wore, plastered across his face, told of good news. "They love our unit, I swear. They're graduating us with the rest of the senior officers and cadets. You get to go home, bro!" Vegeta, for once, smiled. Broad and unexpected, but above all, sincere.
Vegeta let one last smile grace his finely chiseled features before he walked off to begin packing.
Bulma, on the other hand, was a completely different story. She sat in a jail cell, across from the two girls she'd used to call best friends. Her arms inadvertently wrapped themselves around her own waist, pulling her trench even closer, around her head and neck. The smell of urine penetrated her sense of smell, and worry, and restlessness tugged at her mind. Bulma Briefs had been arrested. For assault and battery charges. But the two girls that had provoked it sat right in front of her. Her mind went hazy as she remembered the evening's events, play by play.
Bulma was leaning against a wall outside of the arcade, waiting on her father to come and pick her up; her car was in the shop, so he was her ride everywhere for the remainder of the week. She hated it. No, maybe hate wasn't a strong or passionate enough word. Loathed. Abhorred. But before he came, Chichi and Eighteen and sauntered up to her, poking fun at the little things they knew annoyed her. She told them to lay off, they didn't. Finally, after being called a bitch and a two-timing whore, she struck out like a cobra, filled with cold fury, and laced with venom. Her fist hit Chichi's nose first, blood dancing across onto her face in a barrage of droplets, effectively breaking the girl's 'perfect' nose. Next was Eighteen; she received a quick knee to the gut, and a fist in the back. She had gotten up first, and thrust a knife at Bulma's throat, which she efficiently swatted away, almost hitting an innocent stander by in the leg. Almost.
The next few hours were a blur; police, cars, handcuffs. Calling parents. All three of their parents thought it would be best if they stayed the night in the jail, just to learn a lesson.
Bulma sighed. This wasn't what she wanted. So she cried. But Chichi's voice broke her sobs.
"Bitch, why the hell are you crying? YOU'RE not the one with the fucking broken nose." Bulma frowned at her, red-rimmed eyes spiked with vehemence.
"I wouldn't care about that, anyway," She sighed, and with one last word, drifted into a restless sleep. "Vegeta…"