Concerto

by Bitchii-Usa

He's a closed off, guarded musician prodigy who conducts his own orchestra. She's an artistic genuis who struggles between living her own identity and listening to others. Their sun and moon personalities clash, but their awe of each other's artistic abilities makes it hard to stay away. An artsy AU based on an ask from Vegetapsycho's Tumblr.

21. For Better?

Concerto Twenty-One: For Better?

The weather in Mt. Paozu that afternoon was absolutely perfect.

It was as if the gods purposely dipped their brushes in the crisp shade of azure before covering the earth, as if they carefully sprinkled cotton clouds in the right areas. The late morning sun tucked itself in between two clouds comfortably, reducing the temperature so that guests wouldn't melt under the rising heat. Vegeta was grateful for that much, considering that he was dressed head to toe in a full suit -one that Bulma insisted that he wear for the occasion. She had picked it out herself, begging him to try it on, exclaiming that he would look so, "dapper in it!" He wanted to refuse; he had never been one to enjoy wearing layers upon layers with his suits, but to stop her squealing, he obliged. If it weren't for the obvious ogling she did when he stepped out of the dressing room, it would have ended back on the rack.

Bulma ran her fingers down his poppy red tie, the same color as her dress and lipstick. She wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively, making him turn away from her to avoid the embarrassing stares of others. She threw her head back and laughed heartedly, the sound cuddling around him until he was forced to turn back to her. She looked upon him prettily, her curls bouncing on her shoulders as she brought her face back down.

"I'm happy you listened to me and bought this suit, Vegeta. Blue is a really good color on you. You look delectable," at the emphasis of the compliment, she narrowed her eyes and licked her top row of teeth, slowly bringing her fluffy lips to ear. "You know what they say about what weddings to do people, right?"

She chuckled venomously in his ear and he placed his hand on her elbow, gritting his teeth at how saucy she was being. "Do you have to be so vulgar in front of all these people, Bulma?" He shifted his eyes around to the scattered guests oohing and aahing the decorations of Chi Chi's father's backyard. There were flowers galore, as if she and Goku were marrying in a botanical garden, and the heavenly atmosphere was quite the contradiction to Bulma's sinful words.

She drew her head back and smiled at him, returning to his side and leading him to one of the floral arrangements. "I can't help it. I've just never seen you look this good. Can you blame me for being attracted?" Oh he could certainly understand that. It had been next to near impossible for him to focus on anything else other than Bulma. He really didn't care about the wedding, aside from two important reasons. The first was that she requested for him to go, and as he realized the night previously, it didn't sit right with him for Bulma to attend these sorts of events alone. He dreaded it, actually, having to sit amongst a crowd of overly emotional people who only wanted to support and cheer for Kakarot. If it were up to Vegeta, he would've given the man a quick and mumbled, 'congratulations' at rehearsal before going about his day. But the vision that walked out of his bathroom less than an hour ago made the event a little more bearable. Especially since he had the pleasure of having her for his date.

He felt the same as she regarding her appearance ; he had never seen her beauty taken to this sort of level. She was on a different scale entirely, and he wasn't sure if it was he was just under the influence of the joyful feeling that spread through the air, even if he wanted no parts in it. Her curled hair bounced on her shoulders with every step, reminding Vegeta of clouds passing through the sky above them. Her face alone made up for the nagging feeling of him not wanting to be here, and that kept him composed enough to arrive.

But there was a bigger reason of why he had to come to the wedding. One that made him anxious as he fastened his cuff links; one that made him grip the steering wheel tightly as he maneuvered through the heavy Saturday traffic. One that could ultimately save him from the hell of Frieza's grasp altogether.

Bulma crooned over a centerpiece on the guestbook table but Vegeta's mind wandered for a second. He carefully slid his eyes around the perimeters of the yard, skimming past dozens of men and women to find the possible source of his relief. Nappa had told him that he would meet him at the wedding, something Vegeta was surprised that he was attending in the first place. As far as Vegeta had known, Nappa only ever conversed with Raditz, so the idea that he would crash his brother's wedding was a bit strange to him. But Nappa had insisted that the wedding would be the perfect place to talk, said something about it being secluded enough. Vegeta asked no further questions after he said that, only feeling hopeful that Nappa had been true on his word about finding a way out. His stomach sank as the search for his uncle came up empty, and even though he reminded himself that the wedding hadn't actually started yet, his patience was weaning.

"Vegeta," Bulma's voice was low and she kept her attention to the arrangement, lightly stroking the petal of a lily, "Is it time for that already?" She slid her eye to him knowingly.

He shook his head and swallowed, placing his hand on the small of her back. "I don't see him. And there's no one here so far looks like they would even know who Frieza is." Bulma stood and joined him in surveying the room, drinking in the guests that most likely belonged to Chi Chi's family. The residents of Mt. Paozu never scratched Frieza's itch of domination, especially considering their economy wasn't exactly lucrative. Vegeta had grown to know the kind of people that associated with the mob boss, and their pleasant mannerism and down home conversations certainly didn't fit the bill.

"Well," she took a deep breath and reached for his wrist, stealing a glance at his watch, "The wedding starts in about fifteen minutes. How about we grab our seats and wait for him? Maybe he'll show up while we sit."

Vegeta nodded and allowed her to guide him to their seats, taking the opportunity to soak in the atmosphere. He was surprised at the amount of land that Chi Chi's father owned; the rich, green grass seemed to stretch and wrap around the entire mountain itself. It reminded him of when he was younger and his mother would take him and Tarble to the park for a picnic. On certain days, especially in the beginning of the week, there would be no one there aside from the three - and occasionally his father. Those moments were when Vegeta felt most free, as if the world's possibilities were limitless. As if he could set sail to the vast regions of the park and explore new continents. Back when he still had a naïve veil over his eyes as to how the world actually operated. He bit down an uncomfortable feeling that anchored his stomach at the memory, not finding the energy to battle with ghosts today.

Bulma had suggested a row in the middle next to the aisle, excitedly saying how she wanted to get a good picture of Chi Chi as she walked down the runner. They barely made it to the back row of the white chairs before they were intercepted by Krillin, Tien and Yamcha. Vegeta ignored the other two, immediately scoffing his head at the scar faced man, bitterly remembering all of the reasons of why he deserved a good punch in the face. He felt Bulma tug his arm gently, but not even she could make him look a child in the eye as a man.

"Hey guys! Wow, you both look great! " Of course Krillin would be the first to speak, the man seemed uncomfortable with any bit of silence that Vegeta demanded. If he learned to keep quiet a lot more, Vegeta would probably be able to tolerate his presence. "It's a great day for a wedding, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, thank you for the compliment Krillin." He could taste the suggestion in Bulma's words that he reply with something nice to Krillin too, or at least try to spark a conversation, but he didn't see the point. They were members of his orchestra, not friends to catch up on life with. "You guys look handsome too. I bet it must be nice for everyone to come together outside of rehearsals and concerts, wouldn't you agree Vegeta?" He grunted in reply, refusing to bite the line she tried to cast his way. He could feel the burn of her stare on his neck, could taste the acidic words she had for him on her tongue, but he imagined she wouldn't be inclined to him starting some sort of ruckus at her friend's wedding.

"Look, Vegeta, I won't act as if we didn't approach you without reason." One of the things Vegeta respected about Tien was his approach to problems. He wasted no time beating around the bush with cookie cutter words, and it always managed to grab Vegeta's attention. He turned to Tien slightly, staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Tien reached his arm around to Yamcha and pushed the man slightly forward, locking eyes his directly to Vegeta. "Yamcha here has something he'd like to discuss with you."

Yamcha turned back to glare at Tien, obviously mumbling obscenities under his breath. He took a deep breath and slowly looked towards Vegeta, his lips straightened into a defensive line. His action hugged Vegeta's interest tightly; he felt particularly challenged that Yamcha could be so bold to speak to him first. He thought he made it undeniably clear that, as far as Vegeta was concerned, Yamcha didn't exist.

"Vegeta, look…" Yamcha took a deep breath and looked to Bulma, as if she were the saving grace of his nightmares, "I know that….that I acted like an asshole back then. I just…I mean you can't blame me for being upset, considering….you know…." He waved his finger back and forth between Vegeta and Bulma, swallowing roughly as if he were embarrassed.

"No," Vegeta narrowed his eyes and folded his arms, his face the expression of brick, "No I don't know. How about you explain it to me, Yamcha? The only thing I was aware of is that I was the conductor of musicians who had their shit together. Adults who left their problems at the door instead of staining the podiums with it. So I mean, you can't blame me for being upset the moment I realized that amongst the people slept a toddler. A toddler who threw a tantrum because he got his milk taken away by someone who refused to let it spoil." That earned him a harder tug on his arm from Bulma. He looked over to her and caught her sharp eyes glaring at him, making him feel like perhaps his pettiness was slightly unnecessary. Normally he wouldn't care how he came across, especially to those who were the equivalent to trash, but seeing her look at him like that made him think differently. It made his lips take on the properties of cement, and he stopped any other insults from climbing the ladder of his throat.

"I get it, Vegeta," Yamcha grit through his teeth before sighing deeply, running his fingers through his hair, "I was a dick. Okay? I was a world class dick. I let my problems with Bulma overshadow my job and my career. It was a shitty thing to do, and the last thing I deserve is a second chance from you. But…" He looked away and licked his lips, trying to phrase his sentiments exactly. After a pause, he turned back to Vegeta, displaying the most earnest eyes he'd ever seen the man possess..

"Music is my passion, okay? At the end of the day, past the physique, past the health fitness, it's all I have to make me happy. It's all I have now anyways," he quickly looked to Bulma sadly, but cleared his throat and repositioned his necktie, focusing back to Vegeta. "And I was stupid for taking it for granted and throwing it away, but please –please—if you give me another shot, I won't fuck around this time. I'll really bring my A-game."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes towards him, dipping a toe in the waters of Yamcha's apology. "Why? Why should I? What purpose do you believe you serve in my orchestra? Why should I waste my time in giving you another chance?"

That made him quiet for a moment, the question smacking him in the face and rendering him frozen. Krillin and Tien looked to Yamcha with hopeful faces, their eyes begging the man to have a Midas touched tongue, one that would sway Vegeta to take him back. "Honestly," he said finally, "Nothing much. I, as an individual, do nothing for someone as talented as you; there's no great dynamic I bring to the table. But what I do have- and you know this Vegeta- is a passion that you don't find often. I have never been first chair- never- but I never gave up trying. Never walked out because Tien beat me. Never stopped asking for harder parts to prove myself. How many times since you've been the leader of an orchestra has someone quit because they couldn't move up the ranks?"

He had a point. One of the drawbacks of conducting an orchestra was the self-entitlement that some people exuded. The men and women who claimed to have the sound of music etched into their bones, only to show Vegeta that they were still infants waiting to be molded. They had potential, but they lacked the greatness they desperately believed they had. And when he wouldn't move them to first chair, when they lost the 'play-off' duels against a more talented player, they would swallow down their embarrassment and regurgitate foul words, accusing Vegeta of being deaf. Say that he was incompetent to call himself a master of the craft. Accuse him of favoritism. He wouldn't even bother to stop them as they trotted out the door, coddling their defeat with falsified pride. It had been a long time since he'd had to deal with that.

"Go on," he said impatiently, drumming his fingers against his forearm.

Yamcha took a deep breath and continued. "The only way I can heighten my talent is by working with the best. I know the best when I see it, Vegeta. You're... You're a musical genius, you know this. When I passed the audition for your orchestra, I knew I had struck liquid gold. It's an honor to say I'm playing for Vegeta N'Ouija. And I'll be passionate, I'll do whatever it is I have to do. I think that my passion is heard in the cello section, and I'm not saying I'm needed, but I know it isn't the same."

Another point on the scoreboard. Yamcha's whimsical talent and over the top drive was what made him stand out among the other musicians. Because he wanted to be first chair so badly, he knocked out every musical piece like a winning game of baseball. It made Vegeta want to keep him a second chair so that Yamcha always had something to strive for. Always had a point to prove. Would always play as if his life was on the line, never getting too comfortable in being 'the best'.

"What do you say, Vegeta?" Bulma's tone sounded reassuring, as if Yamcha's words were the golden ticket to coming back to the orchestra. He looked down to Bulma as she flashed him a radiant smile, nodding her head slowly. He could read her expression clearly: I forgave him, so you can too. He swallowed and looked back to Yamcha, staring through the man's genuine façade to see their shared history. The times he gossiped too much instead of practicing. When he made loud, inappropriate jokes during break time, disturbing Vegeta as he sat in his office trying to recuperate. The extreme moments of PDA when he was dating Bulma. Yamcha didn't seem like the type to not have some woman dangling from his arm, so how long would it be before he came parading with the next girl? Vegeta had grown to enjoy the quiet of not having the man around, the distractions he provided to other players dwindling down to a minimum. Why the hell would he want that back?

Because…

"You won't even start third chair. You'll start in the back row with the bright eyed amateurs. I even think I'll put you next to Hercule so you can listen to his naive stories about how he's going to be the best in the entire orchestra, including myself. And maybe, if you're lucky, by this time next year I'll consider letting you challenge Tien to move up. And for you, rehearsal starts at 6:00 am. You can use the extra time to practice your scales and get a head start on the music. After all, you'll have a lot of catching up to do."

…Vegeta, if anything, was a smart musician. And he wouldn't let a talented musician slip through his fingers, especially one that was willing to grovel at his feet for redemption.

A wide smile spread across Yamcha's face as Krillin and Tien clapped their hands against his back, nodding their heads to Vegeta in gratitude. His face held no other expression other than one made of stone and he was already mentally demanding the moment expire. "Thanks, Vegeta. You won't regret it, I swear."

"I'd better not. Because if you pull some shit like this again, you'll be lucky to play on the street for nickels."

"You won't." Yamcha slid his eyes to Bulma, his smile dropping to an even line, and he slowly looked back to Vegeta. "Listen, Bulma's a real special woman, okay? So don't be an idiot like me, and you make sure you treat her good. Take care of her, alright?"

Vegeta's tongue burned with sharp knives that desperately wanted to cut Yamcha cheeks, but he thought of Bulma and buried his bladed words it in the spaces of his teeth. "My affairs are not your concern, and if you want to come back in my orchestra, you'd do well to remember that. But…I have never and will never be an idiot in anyone's case. That includes Bulma as well." He must have said the right words, because he could see her smile at him through his peripherals as she wrapped her arm around his.

Yamcha nodded and shoved his hands in the pocket of his slacks, stepping backwards away from them. "I'm glad to hear it. I hope you'll keep your word, Vegeta. Well, I've gotta go find my date, so I guess I'll see you guys at the reception?"

"I hope your date brought a shawl this time, Yamcha," Bulma's words were laced with mockery, and he didn't know what it was about. He did, however, get amusement from the shock that covered Yamcha's face at whatever bold message she was trying to send. "I heard it's going to get really cold tonight."

"Eh, I decided not to bring her today, actually. She's got some crazy expectations of how I'm supposed to treat her. Expensive expectations at that. "

"You don't say?" Vegeta let a chuckle slip at Bulma's obvious sarcasm. He had to admit that he thoroughly enjoyed the moments he got to witness her feistiness. "Well, hopefully your date today is a little more up your league."

Krillin and Tien snorted and Yamcha looked rather embarrassed, mumbling something about needing some water before scurrying away like a critter in fright. Vegeta's eyebrows raised at the peculiar scene, but it was Bulma who actually spoke his curiosities. "What was that about?"

"Let's just say," Krillin turned to leave as well, probably off to find Eighteen, "That his date looks really familiar." He looked at Bulma slyly and then to Tien, who shared the same amused expression. "Yamcha's really got a thing for blue hair." They followed quickly behind Yamcha, leaving an obvious accusation hanging in the air. Bulma shook her head as she stared after them, giggling under her breath. Vegeta felt her soft lips on his cheek in the next moment, and turned to find her beaming at him.

"I'm proud of you for being so nice, Vegeta. Thank you for handling that well."

"Tch," he blew out, wrapping his arm around her waist, "I hardly think sitting next to Hercule for an entire year is exactly nice. I'm surprised he agreed to that. I can barely stand saying hello to Hercule. "

"Well he was right. He's passionate, remember? And I think whether you want to admit it or not, you miss having him play for you."

He absolutely would not admit that. Whatever regards Vegeta had for Yamcha would stay buried under his tongue. Besides, everyone had essentially gotten what they wanted, so there was no need to dwell on the sweetness of this favor. Not when there were more important issues to tackle. Not when the ceremony was minutes away from starting, and Nappa still hadn't arrived.

"Vegeta," Bulma squeezed his hand, "Let's get to our seats. People are starting to sit and I don't want to be towards the back or anything." He nodded robotically, not really paying attention to what she said, his thoughts already becoming tainted with his anxieties. As the pianist arrived and sat at her bench, his mind raced hurriedly, wondering when Nappa would arrive, and what news would he be arriving with?

And most importantly, would Nappa really possess the ability to make Vegeta's problems fade into the wind?

Bulma reached over and placed her hand on his thigh, pulling him out of his thoughts. He affixed his stare to her crystal eyes that brimmed with delight. He had to agree with her earlier statement; Vegeta did know what they said about people and weddings, that it sometimes brought the best out of them. He remembered attending a wedding once when he was a teenager, some colleague of his mother. His father decided at the last minute that he didn't want to go, so he and Tarble pretended to be her dates. If he tried hard enough, he could still taste the sweetness of her smile as they danced that evening, how she told him that they lifted her spirits completely. How good it felt for one evening to pretend that this enchanting evening was the foundation of his life. He placed his hand on top of Bulma's, deciding that for her sake, maybe he could pretend for a duration of today, too.

The soft lull from the piano picked up pace, taking on a livelier tune that signaled Kakarot's arrival. He strode around the floral decorated arbor, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other extended to a wave as he greeted his friends in the audience. The buffoon. At his own wedding and he couldn't even take that seriously. Vegeta hoped that maybe it was because he had done this already, that another ceremony was probably just an excuse to pig out on exciting dishes. He hoped that Kakarot wouldn't embarrass his wife by strutting so casually as if they were out to some cheap dinner. He would never to that to Bulma, in any event they were to get married.

Kakarot's brother, and the only groomsman, walked down the aisle runner, his face a lot more stern and serious than his younger brother's. As he walked near their seats, he looked towards them with a cold, startled expression, one that made Vegeta oddly curious. He couldn't have still been mad about Vegeta's drunken tangent at the bar all those months ago, could he? Vegeta didn't know much about Raditz, other than he was Kakarot's brother and Nappa's friend, but he certainly knew the long haired man had no right on judging him, if he dared. He remembered quite well hearing that Raditz had a turbulent past, but the older Son brother managed to straighten up and become a business owner- a responsible one at that.

Raditz let his glare linger on Vegeta's face for a few moments longer until he was forced to walk forward, and Vegeta felt his body burn in anger. Who the hell did that bastard think he was to look at Vegeta N'Ouija like he was some back alley drunkard? Bulma squeezed her fingers under his hand and leaned in closely, the blue that reflected off of her hair making him cease his heated stare at Raditz. "What was that about?" She whispered, looking back and forth between Raditz and Vegeta. "Do you personally know that guy?"

He clenched his teeth, upset more that her questioning confirmed that he wasn't losing his mind. Raditz stare was laced with a vendetta, one that Vegeta had missed the memo on. "Somewhat. He's a friend of Nappa and Kakarot's brother." He turned away from her and back to the arbor, just in time to see Raditz turn around and smile at his brother. He watched the man scan the eyes of the room, carefully smiling to some of the guests and bod his head in their direction. One by one, he tossed out his selective smiles until his eyes found Vegeta's, and his delicate smile smoothened out into a crisp line. He kept the eye contact for a tense amount of time, not breaking to even acknowledge Kakarot's son as he brought the new wedding bands to his father. A growl slithered deep in the pit of Vegeta's chest as he played whatever game this was with Raditz, not even bothering to take the time to blink. Raditz had a lot of goddamned nerve to think he could scare Vegeta into apologizing to him, especially not for some mild drunken antics. He probably served roughly fifty people a night at his busy bar; the fact that he remembered Vegeta that night was absolutely ludicrous.

"What is his problem?" Bulma was growing pretty annoyed herself, if the sass that slept under her words had anything to say about it. He saw her glaring at him too, an aquatic storm brewing in the depths of irises. "All of these people in this audience and he can't stop looking over here. Did you piss him off or something?"

"No," he barked, returning his gaze back to Raditz, "Whatever the hell his problem is, it's got nothing to do with me." Raditz's sharp stare didn't go unmatched. Every layer to this ocular confrontation was met with the same venom, the same poison blasting from Vegeta's face. Suddenly Raditz seemed to give up on his mission, looking to his feet before meeting Vegeta again, his eyes a lot softer. His lips started to curl downwards, as if he were sorry about something. As if he were asking for a white flag to this unspoken war.

"That guy is strange," Bulma mumbled, sitting back in her seat as Raditz finally broke the contact, "How the hell is he related to Goku?"

"Trust me," Vegeta whispered, feeling the edges of his anger soften like fresh butter, "They're definitely related. Don't credit Kakarot by thinking he's sane."

"I don't see him having a staring contest with you and then looking all sad about it-"

"Sssh!"

Vegeta turned around to shoot daggars into some older woman behind him, her stubby crinkled fingers pressed tight to her thin lips. She angrily pointed behind her to the start of the aisle runner where Kakarot's wife was standing. Next to him, Bulma squealed her consent as the woman began to walk, her face colorful with emotions as she looked to her husband. "She looks so beautiful," Bulma placed her hand over her chest, "Everything is so beautiful."

"Hmph." Vegeta couldn't help but to be transported back to the day in the wedding shop as he stared at Chi Chi, her long cream colored dress pooling around the back of her feet. "You could've gotten that white dress after all. I told you she wouldn't be wearing white."

"That would have been worse!" Bulma whispered, trying to keep her voice down to avoid being shushed again. "I made the right decision. Red is a good color on me, wouldn't you agree?" Vegeta, against his better judgement, allowed his eyes to slip over to her again, as if he needed a visual reminder. Cherries replaced his cheeks as he got a good look at how succulent she looked, and he quickly turned ahead of him to avoid getting himself too excited. As soon as his gaze was forward, he was met with the stare of Raditz again, the man looking nervous as he studied Vegeta. The anger that washed over him before returned with a vengeance as it began to pool in his belly, and he fought the urge to stand and ask Raditz what the hell his problem was. If it weren't for the priest starting to conduct the ceremony, he very well would have.

Raditz kept tossing his eyes back to Vegeta throughout the nuptials, quickly sneaking glances in between listening to Goku and Chi Chi's long speeches to each other. To the untrained eye it didn't appear as if he was breaking eye contact with him at all, but Vegeta caught hold of every brief glance, each one speaking a sentence that he couldn't figure the words to. He turned to see if Bulma had noticed, but she was too enamored by the supposed romance of the vow renewal. The priest declared them married for the second time in their lives and they kissed, signifying the end of this unnecessary ceremony. That was the moment that changed the course of the wedding's events, slowing down to microseconds in Vegeta's mind.

That was the moment that the guests, including Bulma, cheered in theatrics for the couple. That was the moment Raditz glared at him long and hard again until slowly nodding his head towards the beginning of the runway, his eyes shifting upwards. The moment where Vegeta turned around to where Raditz suggested he looked. The moment where, when he did, he found Nappa standing, undetected by the celebration of the crowd. Nappa looked sternly at Vegeta before sliding a ghost of a smile in, before nodding back to Raditz. Vegeta's eyes widened as realization swam over him.

Raditz. Fucking Raditz.

All of that staring… this entire time…

He was the key to the way out of Vegeta's ordeal.

oooOOOooo

A/N

Wow, two chapters two days in a row? I must be crazy lol. But I kind of wanted to make up for being absent so long. Thank you to everyone who let me know that I'm doing something right here, it means a lot to me. I decided to split this into two chapters, so I'm sorry I lied when I said you'd get good ole Nappa this chapter. Normally I alternate between Vegeta's and Bulma's POV, but next chapter will be Vegeta centered. Unfortunately, you'll have to wait a bit. Nothing too crazy though, I promise.

Please R&R if you liked this chapter! It's always appreciated!

Thanks friendos! Till next time!