Chapter 3...so what of Bulma's dreams???? Do
they really matter to this story? Of course! You'll see pretty soon. As
always, read and review! Mwahaha and now for the third installation of "Daylight
in Your Eyes."
A/N: But before I forget I've haven't been doing disclaimers.... oops. But of course, everyone knows I don't own DBZ... if I did would DBZ have women??? Every single woman would be superimposed with an image of me. Ahahaha.. that's when I would take over the world. But that's a story for another time, which I probably will not tell you. *cough cough* Onto the show!
Reassurances
I wanna be daylight...
Bulma awoke with the sun hitting her pale skin and warming her blood. She stretched and gave a small yawn. But quickly a dark shadow fell across her, blocking the warm rays. She opened one eyes and squinted to make out the disturbance.
"Vejita... I should have known."
He grunted, "Good morning."
"You too." She swung her legs off the sofa and stretched her back.
She rubbed one eye, "So what do you want?"
"Breakfast....?" he scowled, "Remember, you promised."
She shook her head. 'Just like a child.' But she knew he was kidding with. Apparently his good mood lasted until morning. Then she remembered what he had done to her before he had left and she blushed lightly. He looked smugly down his nose at her. 'What last night.... then Yamucha?' She looked around.
"He left earlier this morning when I told him I needed a sparring partner and that I was in a foul mood."
"But you're not."
"Well, he didn't know that, did he?" Vejita smirked.
"Why do you have to be such an ass?" He scowled.
Bulma gave a small laugh. "Relax. I'll make you breakfast."
"You better."
"I will." She played with her mussed bed hair and twisted it into a messy bun onto of her head. She pulled out boxes of cereal. "You up for cereal?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "You up for getting pounded into the wall?"
Bulma laughed, "Feeling frisky, huh?"
Vejita just looked at her in disgust, "As if woman. Just make me food."
"Yes, your Highness."
He smirked. She dished out five plates of scrambled eggs, three plates of sausage, and she poured at least three mugs of hot coffee for him.
"I swear your going to be bouncing off the walls if you don't stop drinking this stuff."
"Unlike you, woman, I do not 'bounce off walls,' weakling..."
Bulma sighed, frustrated, "When have I been anything else?"
"Never, that's when." He stood up abruptly. "I'll be in the gravity chamber." She simply nodded and watched him go. His proud shoulders moved forward with the gentle sway of his body as his measuredly placed one foot then the other and crossed the room with cool calculating steps. 'Just like royalty...' Bulma thought.
Suddenly the phone rang and she went to pick it up. "Hello?"
"Bulma?"
"Oh hey, Yamucha!" she practically squealed.
"Yeah, it's me. Listen, I wanted to ask you something."
"Sure, Yamucha, anything," she purred into the phone. 'Please let him ask me to marry him... Please let it be that...' She knew she was grinning
like an idiot. There was a lightness in her heart and she felt like she might faint.
"Umm...Bulma, how much do you love me?" "Oh, Yamucha, you know I love you more than anything in the world! And if you wanted to ask me to marry you--"
"Oh, Bulma, why did you have to make this so hard?"
"What do you mean? You're...not... going to ask me to marry you?" she felt her voice catch in her throat.
"Bulma...I..."
"I don't want to hear it."
"I was going to. You know I was."
"Then what happened?"
"I--I fell in love with someone else."
Bulma gave a small gasp.
"I never cheated on you, I promise."
"Then how could you---?"
"Just let me explain. We met one day at the park and we just sort of clicked. I promise it was never anything physical. Bulma, you were so good to me. I didn't know how to tell you. I--I love her. I can't pretend."
"You're dumping me?!"
"I can't and I don't think you want to be with me if I love someone else."
By now, Bulma was sobbing uncontrolably. "What's-wrong-with me?"
"Nothing..I just---"
"Then if there's nothing wrong with me, then why don't you love me?" her voice went quietly to a haunting whisper. Yamucha felt slight shivers travel his spine at her ghostly quiet.
"Bulma you're a wonderful girl..."
"But you don't want to be with me...?"
"Look, you're making this harder than it has to be," his toned hardened.
"No, Yamucha, you don't understand. I thought I was special. I thought you loved me....and now, I have nobody."
"Baby, maybe you need time to think this over. I'll call you in a few days."
"Where are you going?" she asked between cries.
"Do you honestly want to know?"
"...yes..."
"I'm going to see Lana."
"Is that her name?"
"Yes.."
"It's a very pretty name."
"Bulma...don't do this."
"Do what? I'm just commenting on her fucking name!"
"Calm down!"
"Don't tell me what to do, Yamucha! You don't own me anymore. As a matter of fact, you never did! We're through!"
"Bulma--" It was too late she had slammed down the phone.
Yamucha ran a hand through his short black hair. "Shit!" He slammed a hand down on the coffee table, cracking it.
Bulma collapsed on the cool tile floor. Burying her head in her hands, she began to cry longer and harder than she had ever cried before. She cried until her ribs ached and her eyes were swollen shut. Her lungs were clenched and her breathe came in tiny gasps. It hurt so damn much! 'Oh God, somebody kill me please!' She lay crumpled in a heap on the floor. She barely heard the front door open but she did not bother to look up, bother to move.
"Bulma?" her mother's sweet high pitch voice inquired.
Bulma looked up at her mom with bleary aching eyes. Her mother knelt down beside her daughter, cradling her head in her lap.
"Sweetheart, may I ask what is wrong?" Bulma was trembling and could barely find the words to speak.
"Yamucha...he--" She choked out another sob, "He doesn't love me, Momma. He loves someone else!" She began wailing. Soon Mrs. Briefs found herself soaked in Bulma's tears and nervous sweat. Bulma had fallen into a restless sleep on her mother's lap. Her father had walked in on the whole ordeal, rolled his eyes, and walked out.
'Honestly, sometimes that girl can get so worked up!' He strode quickly down the hall and into the drawing room. With satisfaction he noted the finished drawings sitting on one of the tables. He snapped up the drawings and looked over them quickly. He raised and eyebrow approvingly, his mouth set in a twisted grin. 'At least that girl is not a total failure.' He turned to leave the room but noticed the Saiyajin Prince staring at him from the open door. There was an unreadable look in his eyes, then he was gone. Dr. Briefs let out a breath and left the drawing room for his own lab to futher analyze the blueprints.
Bulma felt herself being dragged up the stairs and her mother's small pants since she was the one dragging her there. Bulma tried to help but found her could not move a single part of her body. Mrs. Briefs set her down on the first landing of the stairs and took a small breather. She looked up startled when she heard someone starting up the stairs.
"Dear?" she inquired to the darkness.
A gruff voice replied, "Lady, we are NOT on pet name terms." Mrs. Briefs was flustered at discovering the intruder to be non other than Vejita.
"Oh, I thought you were my husband."
"No, he went to his lab."
She sighed, frustrated, "Figures..." Vejita noticed Bulma lying in a heap in the corner, shaking.
"What's with the woman?"
"She's..uh...she's had a rough day..."
"Oh, so she thinks HER day is rough..." he began to mutter, "weak...spoiled..." and another string of hateful comments. Mrs. Briefs turned to her daughter and tried to lift her off the ground.
"Come on, Bulma dear. Up we go to the bedroom," she ordered in her singsong voice. Bulma didn't budge a muscle. Mrs Briefs looked pleadingly to Vejita who just rolled his eyes and slung the woman unceremoniously over his shoulder. He opened her bedroom door with his hip and deposited her roughly on the bed then he stalked out of the room leaving a bewildered mother behind. Mrs. Briefs busied herself changing her daughter and tucking her into bed. Bulma mumbled something incoherent and turned to look at her mother.
"Mom?"
"Yes, sweetie..."
"I--"
"Shh.." her mother shushed her with a finger to Bulma's lips. "In the morning, baby, we'll talk about everything." Bulma nodded sleepily and closed her eyes when her mother closed the door, sealing out the light.
Vejita walked into his room and tossed his dirty towel onto the ground. He walked into the bathroom and proceeded to talk a shower. 'Have to get that damn baka woman's smell off of me...not like I didn't smell before.' He grimaced and leaned to smell under his arms. He DID stink. He took a large bar of soap in one hand and bathed himself completely. He crawled under his crisp sheets, hugging a
pillow (a habit NOBODY knew about) he soon fell asleep.
Bulma awoke the next morning with a tremendous headache caused by all the pressure fo her crying. "Good morning, sweetie!" her mother galavanted in with a tray of deliscious pastries piled high and with a tall glass of milk.
"Mom...I'm not feeling well."
"Nonsense, sweetheart. Everyone feels well enough for a pastry or three. I even got you the chocolate cream-filled ones, your favorite."
Tears began to well up in Bulma's eyes, "I remember when Yamucha bought me a whole bakery's stock of these...because he knew I loved them so much!" She started to wail again.
"Shut up, woman."
Bulma glanced to see the rough Saiyajin
leaning against her door frame. "Honestly, how is anybody supposed to sleep with you going on the way you do?" He strode into the room. "Go away, Vejita."
"Oh, testy aren't we? I'm not the one you're mad with you though, am I?"
No..." she shook her head sadly.
Vejita looked down at her with contempt and scoffed. "Now stop your crying." He grabbed a chocolate cream-filled pastry and shoved it into his mouth. (^_~ Now can't you just see that?)
"Hey!" Bulma protested.
He shrugged, "You said you weren't hungry." She just pouted and glared as he picked up another pastry, a cinnamon glazed one, and walked out of the room. Bulma's mom shook her head.
Tilting her head she murmured, "Honestly. That man's moods are as opposite as night and day."
Bulma gave her mother a queer look, "Mom, what are you talking about?"
"Well, Vejita, dear, he was sweet enough to bring you in here after I couldn't get you past the first landing. Although he wasn't very pleasant about it, he did not say no. And now here he is being Mr. Grumpy again." Mrs. Briefs sighed.
Bulma giggled, "Mom, he's Vejita. He's supposed to be like that. If he wasn't, I'd be worried." Mrs. Briefs smiled a crooked smile and nodded, "I suppose you're right." "I KNOW I'm right." Bulma grabbed a handful of doughnut holes and headed to the bathroom to take a long shower.
Bulma sighed as the hot water hit her skin. It was almost scorching hot but she liked it that way. She didn't feel totally clean unless she burned the top layer of skin off, metaphorically, that is. She lathered herself up and rised herself off. Stepping out of the shower, she walked straight to her closet, picking out comfy large tech pants and a cropped Capsule Corps. shirt. She pulled a large sweatshirt over her head to complete the emsemble, her body still wet underneath. She never thought much of drying her body before changing; she figures she'd just 'self-dry.' She crept out of her bedroom to avoid her mother's barrage of questions which she knew she would be getting later. She slinked downstairs, flinching when she heard a step creak. She walked slowly into the kitchen, no one was there. She sighed in relief. She noticed the TV was on in the adjoining living room. She walked inside only to notice Vejita had fallen asleep watching some boxing match. She rolled her eyes and walked over to the boudoir. From the top, she retrieved a soft fluffy blanket a soft midnight blue color. It was her favorite blanket she used during the winter while she
watched movies, it was comforting and warm. Thus, making it the perfect "happy" blanket. She opened it up and gently threw it over the Saiyajin's sleeping form. He mumbled and grumbled slightly, something about humans who couldn't fight worth shit. Then he turned back to sleep. She giggled slightly and tucked the blanket around him. She flipped off the TV and turned off the lights, heading back to the kitchen.
"Bulma..."
Bulma groaned, "Mom...?"
"Look, I made us some hot chocolate with whipped cream!"
"Not in the mood to talk..."
"Of course not, honey. Not while drinking hot chocolate." Bulma rolled her eyes. Her mother sure could be a clever one sometimes. Bulma took a sip from her mug then look at it suspisciously.
Her mother giggled, "Did I forget to mention that I put a drop of rum in..." Bulma looked at her mother surprised. "Don't look at me like that. I enjoy a nice shot now and then also." Bulma nodded and took another sip. The hint of liqour had a calming effect and she loved the feeling of hot liquid sitting in her stomach, radiating heat throughout her entire body. She sighed, content. "So..." her mother began.
"I suppose there's no getting around it, hmm?" Bulma raised an eyebrow.
Her mother shook her head and sent her cornflower curls flying, "I don't think so, dear."
Bulma suddenly looked down dejected and set her head on the table. "He left me...after ten years, he finally left me..."
"You knew the time would come--" "No, I didn't. I thought we would be together forever. I thought we would get married. I thought I had found the man who would love me forever. But those sort of dreams are for fools, right? I mean, who has such dreams? Only people who are sad and delirious," she knew she was rambling but she couldn't help it. She needed to hear herself talk to sort out her feelings.
Bulma's mother reached out a hand to pat her daughter's. "Maybe he's just confused. You never know. Maybe he will call back and--"
"No! He's never calling, never coming back for me." Bulma banged her head on the kitchen table and Bulma's mother threw herself back in surprise. "He doesn't love me anymore, Mommy. He loves someone else... Someone prettier, someone smarter, someone better than me..."
"That's not true--"
"Yes, it is and you know it. I'm going to be alone forever. That's what torture life has sent to me because of my selfishness. I'm never going to find love and no one is ever going to love me."
Bulma's mother let a long breath escape her lips and she stared into her mug. Everyone took her for an airhead, including her own husband, but what she didn't know in science and technical work, she made up for in the workings of the heart and something told her her Bulma would not be alone for too much more.
She looked up from her steaming cup. She leaned over and pushed a few strands of gorgeous aqua hair from her daughter's face. Glistening eyes searched her own, looking for comfort. "Bulma, you are beautiful and you know it. You are smart and your father knows it. And you are loveable and I know it. So, in answer to your problem, all I ask is that you give yourself time to find 'the one.' He is out there, I promise. Don't sell yourself short, baby doll." Her mother stood up, chair scraping the tile. She dumped the rest of the cocoa into the sink then went to the stairs. "I'm going to bed, Bulma. Don't be up too late now."
"Of course not, Mom," she reassured her mother and shook her head. Her mother went up stairs leaving Bulma alone. Bulma looked down at her cocoa, tears welling up again. She couldn't help it. She knew she was being silly, but she had thought this was 'the one,' that Yamucha would be it for her. Apparently she was wrong. How many times was she going to be wrong anyway? She hoped it wouldn't be too painful. Tears dripped down her cheeks and splashed into her mug. She looked frantically around the kitchen. Suddenly an idea struck her. Why wait for the
pain? Her mother was wrong. She was doomed for unhappiness and she just wasn't willing to wait around for something that wasn't coming. She rose from her chair shaking and walked to the counter.
There gleaming in its rack was what she had been searching for. She slowly and hesitantly pulled the medium length blade from its sheath beside the dozen other knives her mother used for cooking. Her hand was shaking as she held the knife in her hand. It was much heavy than she thought it would have been, or perhaps she was weak from fear. She pulled the knife along the counter and towards her until she heard a noise from the door way. A disheveled and sleepy Vejita was leaning against the doorway, the blue blanket trailing from one of his hands. He moaned and looked at her incoherently.
"What are you doing, woman?"
"N-nothing, Vejita. Why are you up?" she asked nervously.
"Well, it's kind of hard to sleep when you're screeching your head off." She blushed not realizing she had yelled that loud. She hoped that Vejita had not heard anything she said. Actually, she had totally forgotten of him being in the living room. He sat down at the table and stared at her cocoa sitting there.
"Make me some."
She shifted her weight nervously, "Uhh..Vejita, I'm kind of busy right now."
"You don't look busy."
"Well I am!" she snapped.
"Touchy and you're not even the one who was woken up from a nap."
She glared at him furiously. It was then that Vejita noticed she had something pinned between her and the counter and that was the reason she
refused to budge. He stood up abruptly and walked over to her.
"What is it?" she asked, agitated.
He looked down at where her body was trying conceal her hand. "What have you got there?"
"None of you business."
He snickered, "A love letter from your Yamucha?" He asked in a sickening sweet tone.
With that comment, Bulma burst into tears and slid to the floor. Vejita looked positively mortified, "It was a joke, woman."
"Why? Why do you have to be so cruel to me, Vejita?"
"I'm always like this. What has gotten into you?" he asked while placing a hand on his hip.
"Yamucha...he said he doesn't love me anymore."
Vejita rolled his eyes, "And this, this is the reason for your unending sorrow? Pitiful, woman. Tell me when everyone you know and care about dies and your planet explodes, then I may allow you to carry on the way you do." Bulma let out another round of sobs and sniffles. Vejita grabbed one of her arms, careful not to hurt her, and tried to hoist her to her feet. That's when he noticed the knife dangling from her hand.
He snatched it from her. "What's the meaning of this?" he boomed shaking the knife at her.
"I'm in so much painful, Vejita. I can't go on anymore."
He scoffed, "Of course you can. Just because one man--"
"No man loves me, Vejita. My life is empty. I can't live like this." she cried.
"Psh. Woman, you are acting so overdramatic. Pull yourself together."
Bulma shook her head and made a
grab for the knife, which Vejita flung away so she could not get at it. It ended
up embedded in a wall.
"Just go to sleep," he ordered flinging Bulma towards the stairs. She fell at the bottom with a thud and Vejita, for a second, thought he
had hurt her. He saw her stir but not move. "Don't tell me I have to take your ass to bed again?" Bulma moaned and lay still. He heaved a sigh and shook his head. He grabbed one arm and heaved her around his neck, carrying her as a wrestler would who was about to throw his opponent out of the ring. He opened her door and set her down on her bed. She had not moved a muscle or made a sound. Instead she just looked on with lifeless eyes. And those really creeped him out.
She just lay ontop on the comforter and Vejita was starting to get uncomfortable. "Hey..." he whispered then he turned gruff when she did not
answer.
"Don't tell me I have to baby you. I won't stoop so low, woman, so just forget about."
Silence.
"Are you listening to me?"
Again silence.
He walked slowly and cautiously to her bedside. Her head was turned his way but those lifeless eyes just kept looking straight. He raised one hand. For some reason, he was afraid she was already dead despite his taking away the blade. The back of his hand stroked the woman's cheek. It was still warm. He breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly he felt the woman stir and press her cheek firmly into his hand and with one of her hand, she kept it there. She moaned content and closed her eyes.
Vejita growled, "Let go, woman."
He tried to pull his hand away but Bulma whined in protest.
"My hand is NOT your pillow."
She grinned at that comment. 'Well, at least I got her smiling.' he thought though she was trying his patience. This time he violently ripped his hand from her grip. Her eyes snapped open and eyed him with disdain. He looked down at her, "MY hand."
He clutched his hand. He was totally taken by surprised when she erupted in a fit of giggles.
When her giggles subsided she said, "Are you so sure?"
"Quite," he retorted. Then suddenly her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist and pulled him to her. He was so surprised that he fell back and ended sitting on the edge of her bed as she cuddled, actually CUDDLED, his arm. He looked at her with disgust as she rested her face in his open palm and wrapped the rest of her torso about his muscular forearm. He snorted and grumbled, trying to wrestle his arm back. 'For a tiny, weak little human, she has quite a grip.' Of course he could have taken his arm back much sooner but he ws afraid that if he used to much force he might kill her. 'Killing wouldn't be such a bad idea...'he mused. 'I wouldn't have to worry about the safety of my arm anymore... But that would only confirm that I am a killer and I have enough problems as it is without those damn blasted "Earth's Special Force," aka Kakarotto's morons, breathing down my back.' He resolved NOT to kill Bulma.
Instead, he grunted, "Let go if you know what's good for you."
Bulma's eyes were still puffy and teary from crying but when she looked up at Vejita, he thought her eyes were sparkling. "Vejita, please, just a little bit more.
"I hope this fixation with my arm will not become an obsession, woman."
"Of course not, Vejita. It just makes me feel... safe."
He looked at her strangely. "Strangling my arm makes you feel safe?"
"One, I am NOT strangling. And two, yes, it does make me feel safe to hold something."
"Hold your pillow or something."
"But your arm is so much nicer."
"No, it's not."
"Stop lying, Vejita. It does not suit you," she teased.
"Stop being a moron, woman. It suits you but it's pissing me off."
Bulma frowned, "You're not being very nice."
"Oops, too bad, better let me go."
"Nice try but no go."
He growled angrily.
"Just a little while more," Bulma pleaded. She yawned and looked up at him with her puppy dog eyes. He rolled his eyes and decided placating her would be the easiest route. He nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed. She squealed and wrapped herself tighter around the pulsing muscles of his arm.
She had to admit, he DID have a reassuring touch and his bare skin was so soft and warm. She knew she would suffer worse than death if she told him any of this so she decided to keep to herself. Vejita looked down and noticed her eyes closed, taking on a peaceful look. 'I wonder if she's asleep?' He moved to pull himself away but found resistance as Bulma pulled him back. He cleared his throat but she did nothing. He noticed away from her to take in his surroundings. Her room looked like a tornado hit...daily. Slowly he noticed she was shifting, unwrapping herself. 'Finally!' his mind screamed. Then he felt something else... her fingers intertwined with his own and she pulled his hand up to stroke her cheek. To Bulma, it was the best feeling in the world, like flying or all the happiness entering her mind in that moment. And to her surprise, Vejita hadn't tried to pull away. But if she had opened her eyes she would have seen the shocked and agitated look on Vejita's face. But Bulma didn't open her eyes. She just continued to rub her cheek against his hand, up and down, up and down...
Wanna live forever
Wanna touch your hand and explode like a star...
What did you guys think? Read and review, onnegai (please!!!) I kinda like how this is going. I'm trying to keep Vejita in character at all times so when I find him drifting I try to snap him right back. Not an easy feat I tell you. *sigh* But I do like what's coming from my mind right now and I love the song which makes this fic extra special. There may be a special *ahem* chapter at the end if you know what I mean, so if I have any takers to write it that would be appreciated. Unless you REALLY want to read a crappy lem, then by all means, ignore this note. (Not good for your health though. My lem would probably cause nightmares and the like heh heh heh... *sweat drops*) Thanks for reading! G' night!
A/N: But before I forget I've haven't been doing disclaimers.... oops. But of course, everyone knows I don't own DBZ... if I did would DBZ have women??? Every single woman would be superimposed with an image of me. Ahahaha.. that's when I would take over the world. But that's a story for another time, which I probably will not tell you. *cough cough* Onto the show!
Reassurances
I wanna be daylight...
Bulma awoke with the sun hitting her pale skin and warming her blood. She stretched and gave a small yawn. But quickly a dark shadow fell across her, blocking the warm rays. She opened one eyes and squinted to make out the disturbance.
"Vejita... I should have known."
He grunted, "Good morning."
"You too." She swung her legs off the sofa and stretched her back.
She rubbed one eye, "So what do you want?"
"Breakfast....?" he scowled, "Remember, you promised."
She shook her head. 'Just like a child.' But she knew he was kidding with. Apparently his good mood lasted until morning. Then she remembered what he had done to her before he had left and she blushed lightly. He looked smugly down his nose at her. 'What last night.... then Yamucha?' She looked around.
"He left earlier this morning when I told him I needed a sparring partner and that I was in a foul mood."
"But you're not."
"Well, he didn't know that, did he?" Vejita smirked.
"Why do you have to be such an ass?" He scowled.
Bulma gave a small laugh. "Relax. I'll make you breakfast."
"You better."
"I will." She played with her mussed bed hair and twisted it into a messy bun onto of her head. She pulled out boxes of cereal. "You up for cereal?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "You up for getting pounded into the wall?"
Bulma laughed, "Feeling frisky, huh?"
Vejita just looked at her in disgust, "As if woman. Just make me food."
"Yes, your Highness."
He smirked. She dished out five plates of scrambled eggs, three plates of sausage, and she poured at least three mugs of hot coffee for him.
"I swear your going to be bouncing off the walls if you don't stop drinking this stuff."
"Unlike you, woman, I do not 'bounce off walls,' weakling..."
Bulma sighed, frustrated, "When have I been anything else?"
"Never, that's when." He stood up abruptly. "I'll be in the gravity chamber." She simply nodded and watched him go. His proud shoulders moved forward with the gentle sway of his body as his measuredly placed one foot then the other and crossed the room with cool calculating steps. 'Just like royalty...' Bulma thought.
Suddenly the phone rang and she went to pick it up. "Hello?"
"Bulma?"
"Oh hey, Yamucha!" she practically squealed.
"Yeah, it's me. Listen, I wanted to ask you something."
"Sure, Yamucha, anything," she purred into the phone. 'Please let him ask me to marry him... Please let it be that...' She knew she was grinning
like an idiot. There was a lightness in her heart and she felt like she might faint.
"Umm...Bulma, how much do you love me?" "Oh, Yamucha, you know I love you more than anything in the world! And if you wanted to ask me to marry you--"
"Oh, Bulma, why did you have to make this so hard?"
"What do you mean? You're...not... going to ask me to marry you?" she felt her voice catch in her throat.
"Bulma...I..."
"I don't want to hear it."
"I was going to. You know I was."
"Then what happened?"
"I--I fell in love with someone else."
Bulma gave a small gasp.
"I never cheated on you, I promise."
"Then how could you---?"
"Just let me explain. We met one day at the park and we just sort of clicked. I promise it was never anything physical. Bulma, you were so good to me. I didn't know how to tell you. I--I love her. I can't pretend."
"You're dumping me?!"
"I can't and I don't think you want to be with me if I love someone else."
By now, Bulma was sobbing uncontrolably. "What's-wrong-with me?"
"Nothing..I just---"
"Then if there's nothing wrong with me, then why don't you love me?" her voice went quietly to a haunting whisper. Yamucha felt slight shivers travel his spine at her ghostly quiet.
"Bulma you're a wonderful girl..."
"But you don't want to be with me...?"
"Look, you're making this harder than it has to be," his toned hardened.
"No, Yamucha, you don't understand. I thought I was special. I thought you loved me....and now, I have nobody."
"Baby, maybe you need time to think this over. I'll call you in a few days."
"Where are you going?" she asked between cries.
"Do you honestly want to know?"
"...yes..."
"I'm going to see Lana."
"Is that her name?"
"Yes.."
"It's a very pretty name."
"Bulma...don't do this."
"Do what? I'm just commenting on her fucking name!"
"Calm down!"
"Don't tell me what to do, Yamucha! You don't own me anymore. As a matter of fact, you never did! We're through!"
"Bulma--" It was too late she had slammed down the phone.
Yamucha ran a hand through his short black hair. "Shit!" He slammed a hand down on the coffee table, cracking it.
Bulma collapsed on the cool tile floor. Burying her head in her hands, she began to cry longer and harder than she had ever cried before. She cried until her ribs ached and her eyes were swollen shut. Her lungs were clenched and her breathe came in tiny gasps. It hurt so damn much! 'Oh God, somebody kill me please!' She lay crumpled in a heap on the floor. She barely heard the front door open but she did not bother to look up, bother to move.
"Bulma?" her mother's sweet high pitch voice inquired.
Bulma looked up at her mom with bleary aching eyes. Her mother knelt down beside her daughter, cradling her head in her lap.
"Sweetheart, may I ask what is wrong?" Bulma was trembling and could barely find the words to speak.
"Yamucha...he--" She choked out another sob, "He doesn't love me, Momma. He loves someone else!" She began wailing. Soon Mrs. Briefs found herself soaked in Bulma's tears and nervous sweat. Bulma had fallen into a restless sleep on her mother's lap. Her father had walked in on the whole ordeal, rolled his eyes, and walked out.
'Honestly, sometimes that girl can get so worked up!' He strode quickly down the hall and into the drawing room. With satisfaction he noted the finished drawings sitting on one of the tables. He snapped up the drawings and looked over them quickly. He raised and eyebrow approvingly, his mouth set in a twisted grin. 'At least that girl is not a total failure.' He turned to leave the room but noticed the Saiyajin Prince staring at him from the open door. There was an unreadable look in his eyes, then he was gone. Dr. Briefs let out a breath and left the drawing room for his own lab to futher analyze the blueprints.
Bulma felt herself being dragged up the stairs and her mother's small pants since she was the one dragging her there. Bulma tried to help but found her could not move a single part of her body. Mrs. Briefs set her down on the first landing of the stairs and took a small breather. She looked up startled when she heard someone starting up the stairs.
"Dear?" she inquired to the darkness.
A gruff voice replied, "Lady, we are NOT on pet name terms." Mrs. Briefs was flustered at discovering the intruder to be non other than Vejita.
"Oh, I thought you were my husband."
"No, he went to his lab."
She sighed, frustrated, "Figures..." Vejita noticed Bulma lying in a heap in the corner, shaking.
"What's with the woman?"
"She's..uh...she's had a rough day..."
"Oh, so she thinks HER day is rough..." he began to mutter, "weak...spoiled..." and another string of hateful comments. Mrs. Briefs turned to her daughter and tried to lift her off the ground.
"Come on, Bulma dear. Up we go to the bedroom," she ordered in her singsong voice. Bulma didn't budge a muscle. Mrs Briefs looked pleadingly to Vejita who just rolled his eyes and slung the woman unceremoniously over his shoulder. He opened her bedroom door with his hip and deposited her roughly on the bed then he stalked out of the room leaving a bewildered mother behind. Mrs. Briefs busied herself changing her daughter and tucking her into bed. Bulma mumbled something incoherent and turned to look at her mother.
"Mom?"
"Yes, sweetie..."
"I--"
"Shh.." her mother shushed her with a finger to Bulma's lips. "In the morning, baby, we'll talk about everything." Bulma nodded sleepily and closed her eyes when her mother closed the door, sealing out the light.
Vejita walked into his room and tossed his dirty towel onto the ground. He walked into the bathroom and proceeded to talk a shower. 'Have to get that damn baka woman's smell off of me...not like I didn't smell before.' He grimaced and leaned to smell under his arms. He DID stink. He took a large bar of soap in one hand and bathed himself completely. He crawled under his crisp sheets, hugging a
pillow (a habit NOBODY knew about) he soon fell asleep.
Bulma awoke the next morning with a tremendous headache caused by all the pressure fo her crying. "Good morning, sweetie!" her mother galavanted in with a tray of deliscious pastries piled high and with a tall glass of milk.
"Mom...I'm not feeling well."
"Nonsense, sweetheart. Everyone feels well enough for a pastry or three. I even got you the chocolate cream-filled ones, your favorite."
Tears began to well up in Bulma's eyes, "I remember when Yamucha bought me a whole bakery's stock of these...because he knew I loved them so much!" She started to wail again.
"Shut up, woman."
Bulma glanced to see the rough Saiyajin
leaning against her door frame. "Honestly, how is anybody supposed to sleep with you going on the way you do?" He strode into the room. "Go away, Vejita."
"Oh, testy aren't we? I'm not the one you're mad with you though, am I?"
No..." she shook her head sadly.
Vejita looked down at her with contempt and scoffed. "Now stop your crying." He grabbed a chocolate cream-filled pastry and shoved it into his mouth. (^_~ Now can't you just see that?)
"Hey!" Bulma protested.
He shrugged, "You said you weren't hungry." She just pouted and glared as he picked up another pastry, a cinnamon glazed one, and walked out of the room. Bulma's mom shook her head.
Tilting her head she murmured, "Honestly. That man's moods are as opposite as night and day."
Bulma gave her mother a queer look, "Mom, what are you talking about?"
"Well, Vejita, dear, he was sweet enough to bring you in here after I couldn't get you past the first landing. Although he wasn't very pleasant about it, he did not say no. And now here he is being Mr. Grumpy again." Mrs. Briefs sighed.
Bulma giggled, "Mom, he's Vejita. He's supposed to be like that. If he wasn't, I'd be worried." Mrs. Briefs smiled a crooked smile and nodded, "I suppose you're right." "I KNOW I'm right." Bulma grabbed a handful of doughnut holes and headed to the bathroom to take a long shower.
Bulma sighed as the hot water hit her skin. It was almost scorching hot but she liked it that way. She didn't feel totally clean unless she burned the top layer of skin off, metaphorically, that is. She lathered herself up and rised herself off. Stepping out of the shower, she walked straight to her closet, picking out comfy large tech pants and a cropped Capsule Corps. shirt. She pulled a large sweatshirt over her head to complete the emsemble, her body still wet underneath. She never thought much of drying her body before changing; she figures she'd just 'self-dry.' She crept out of her bedroom to avoid her mother's barrage of questions which she knew she would be getting later. She slinked downstairs, flinching when she heard a step creak. She walked slowly into the kitchen, no one was there. She sighed in relief. She noticed the TV was on in the adjoining living room. She walked inside only to notice Vejita had fallen asleep watching some boxing match. She rolled her eyes and walked over to the boudoir. From the top, she retrieved a soft fluffy blanket a soft midnight blue color. It was her favorite blanket she used during the winter while she
watched movies, it was comforting and warm. Thus, making it the perfect "happy" blanket. She opened it up and gently threw it over the Saiyajin's sleeping form. He mumbled and grumbled slightly, something about humans who couldn't fight worth shit. Then he turned back to sleep. She giggled slightly and tucked the blanket around him. She flipped off the TV and turned off the lights, heading back to the kitchen.
"Bulma..."
Bulma groaned, "Mom...?"
"Look, I made us some hot chocolate with whipped cream!"
"Not in the mood to talk..."
"Of course not, honey. Not while drinking hot chocolate." Bulma rolled her eyes. Her mother sure could be a clever one sometimes. Bulma took a sip from her mug then look at it suspisciously.
Her mother giggled, "Did I forget to mention that I put a drop of rum in..." Bulma looked at her mother surprised. "Don't look at me like that. I enjoy a nice shot now and then also." Bulma nodded and took another sip. The hint of liqour had a calming effect and she loved the feeling of hot liquid sitting in her stomach, radiating heat throughout her entire body. She sighed, content. "So..." her mother began.
"I suppose there's no getting around it, hmm?" Bulma raised an eyebrow.
Her mother shook her head and sent her cornflower curls flying, "I don't think so, dear."
Bulma suddenly looked down dejected and set her head on the table. "He left me...after ten years, he finally left me..."
"You knew the time would come--" "No, I didn't. I thought we would be together forever. I thought we would get married. I thought I had found the man who would love me forever. But those sort of dreams are for fools, right? I mean, who has such dreams? Only people who are sad and delirious," she knew she was rambling but she couldn't help it. She needed to hear herself talk to sort out her feelings.
Bulma's mother reached out a hand to pat her daughter's. "Maybe he's just confused. You never know. Maybe he will call back and--"
"No! He's never calling, never coming back for me." Bulma banged her head on the kitchen table and Bulma's mother threw herself back in surprise. "He doesn't love me anymore, Mommy. He loves someone else... Someone prettier, someone smarter, someone better than me..."
"That's not true--"
"Yes, it is and you know it. I'm going to be alone forever. That's what torture life has sent to me because of my selfishness. I'm never going to find love and no one is ever going to love me."
Bulma's mother let a long breath escape her lips and she stared into her mug. Everyone took her for an airhead, including her own husband, but what she didn't know in science and technical work, she made up for in the workings of the heart and something told her her Bulma would not be alone for too much more.
She looked up from her steaming cup. She leaned over and pushed a few strands of gorgeous aqua hair from her daughter's face. Glistening eyes searched her own, looking for comfort. "Bulma, you are beautiful and you know it. You are smart and your father knows it. And you are loveable and I know it. So, in answer to your problem, all I ask is that you give yourself time to find 'the one.' He is out there, I promise. Don't sell yourself short, baby doll." Her mother stood up, chair scraping the tile. She dumped the rest of the cocoa into the sink then went to the stairs. "I'm going to bed, Bulma. Don't be up too late now."
"Of course not, Mom," she reassured her mother and shook her head. Her mother went up stairs leaving Bulma alone. Bulma looked down at her cocoa, tears welling up again. She couldn't help it. She knew she was being silly, but she had thought this was 'the one,' that Yamucha would be it for her. Apparently she was wrong. How many times was she going to be wrong anyway? She hoped it wouldn't be too painful. Tears dripped down her cheeks and splashed into her mug. She looked frantically around the kitchen. Suddenly an idea struck her. Why wait for the
pain? Her mother was wrong. She was doomed for unhappiness and she just wasn't willing to wait around for something that wasn't coming. She rose from her chair shaking and walked to the counter.
There gleaming in its rack was what she had been searching for. She slowly and hesitantly pulled the medium length blade from its sheath beside the dozen other knives her mother used for cooking. Her hand was shaking as she held the knife in her hand. It was much heavy than she thought it would have been, or perhaps she was weak from fear. She pulled the knife along the counter and towards her until she heard a noise from the door way. A disheveled and sleepy Vejita was leaning against the doorway, the blue blanket trailing from one of his hands. He moaned and looked at her incoherently.
"What are you doing, woman?"
"N-nothing, Vejita. Why are you up?" she asked nervously.
"Well, it's kind of hard to sleep when you're screeching your head off." She blushed not realizing she had yelled that loud. She hoped that Vejita had not heard anything she said. Actually, she had totally forgotten of him being in the living room. He sat down at the table and stared at her cocoa sitting there.
"Make me some."
She shifted her weight nervously, "Uhh..Vejita, I'm kind of busy right now."
"You don't look busy."
"Well I am!" she snapped.
"Touchy and you're not even the one who was woken up from a nap."
She glared at him furiously. It was then that Vejita noticed she had something pinned between her and the counter and that was the reason she
refused to budge. He stood up abruptly and walked over to her.
"What is it?" she asked, agitated.
He looked down at where her body was trying conceal her hand. "What have you got there?"
"None of you business."
He snickered, "A love letter from your Yamucha?" He asked in a sickening sweet tone.
With that comment, Bulma burst into tears and slid to the floor. Vejita looked positively mortified, "It was a joke, woman."
"Why? Why do you have to be so cruel to me, Vejita?"
"I'm always like this. What has gotten into you?" he asked while placing a hand on his hip.
"Yamucha...he said he doesn't love me anymore."
Vejita rolled his eyes, "And this, this is the reason for your unending sorrow? Pitiful, woman. Tell me when everyone you know and care about dies and your planet explodes, then I may allow you to carry on the way you do." Bulma let out another round of sobs and sniffles. Vejita grabbed one of her arms, careful not to hurt her, and tried to hoist her to her feet. That's when he noticed the knife dangling from her hand.
He snatched it from her. "What's the meaning of this?" he boomed shaking the knife at her.
"I'm in so much painful, Vejita. I can't go on anymore."
He scoffed, "Of course you can. Just because one man--"
"No man loves me, Vejita. My life is empty. I can't live like this." she cried.
"Psh. Woman, you are acting so overdramatic. Pull yourself together."
Bulma shook her head and made a
grab for the knife, which Vejita flung away so she could not get at it. It ended
up embedded in a wall.
"Just go to sleep," he ordered flinging Bulma towards the stairs. She fell at the bottom with a thud and Vejita, for a second, thought he
had hurt her. He saw her stir but not move. "Don't tell me I have to take your ass to bed again?" Bulma moaned and lay still. He heaved a sigh and shook his head. He grabbed one arm and heaved her around his neck, carrying her as a wrestler would who was about to throw his opponent out of the ring. He opened her door and set her down on her bed. She had not moved a muscle or made a sound. Instead she just looked on with lifeless eyes. And those really creeped him out.
She just lay ontop on the comforter and Vejita was starting to get uncomfortable. "Hey..." he whispered then he turned gruff when she did not
answer.
"Don't tell me I have to baby you. I won't stoop so low, woman, so just forget about."
Silence.
"Are you listening to me?"
Again silence.
He walked slowly and cautiously to her bedside. Her head was turned his way but those lifeless eyes just kept looking straight. He raised one hand. For some reason, he was afraid she was already dead despite his taking away the blade. The back of his hand stroked the woman's cheek. It was still warm. He breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly he felt the woman stir and press her cheek firmly into his hand and with one of her hand, she kept it there. She moaned content and closed her eyes.
Vejita growled, "Let go, woman."
He tried to pull his hand away but Bulma whined in protest.
"My hand is NOT your pillow."
She grinned at that comment. 'Well, at least I got her smiling.' he thought though she was trying his patience. This time he violently ripped his hand from her grip. Her eyes snapped open and eyed him with disdain. He looked down at her, "MY hand."
He clutched his hand. He was totally taken by surprised when she erupted in a fit of giggles.
When her giggles subsided she said, "Are you so sure?"
"Quite," he retorted. Then suddenly her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist and pulled him to her. He was so surprised that he fell back and ended sitting on the edge of her bed as she cuddled, actually CUDDLED, his arm. He looked at her with disgust as she rested her face in his open palm and wrapped the rest of her torso about his muscular forearm. He snorted and grumbled, trying to wrestle his arm back. 'For a tiny, weak little human, she has quite a grip.' Of course he could have taken his arm back much sooner but he ws afraid that if he used to much force he might kill her. 'Killing wouldn't be such a bad idea...'he mused. 'I wouldn't have to worry about the safety of my arm anymore... But that would only confirm that I am a killer and I have enough problems as it is without those damn blasted "Earth's Special Force," aka Kakarotto's morons, breathing down my back.' He resolved NOT to kill Bulma.
Instead, he grunted, "Let go if you know what's good for you."
Bulma's eyes were still puffy and teary from crying but when she looked up at Vejita, he thought her eyes were sparkling. "Vejita, please, just a little bit more.
"I hope this fixation with my arm will not become an obsession, woman."
"Of course not, Vejita. It just makes me feel... safe."
He looked at her strangely. "Strangling my arm makes you feel safe?"
"One, I am NOT strangling. And two, yes, it does make me feel safe to hold something."
"Hold your pillow or something."
"But your arm is so much nicer."
"No, it's not."
"Stop lying, Vejita. It does not suit you," she teased.
"Stop being a moron, woman. It suits you but it's pissing me off."
Bulma frowned, "You're not being very nice."
"Oops, too bad, better let me go."
"Nice try but no go."
He growled angrily.
"Just a little while more," Bulma pleaded. She yawned and looked up at him with her puppy dog eyes. He rolled his eyes and decided placating her would be the easiest route. He nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed. She squealed and wrapped herself tighter around the pulsing muscles of his arm.
She had to admit, he DID have a reassuring touch and his bare skin was so soft and warm. She knew she would suffer worse than death if she told him any of this so she decided to keep to herself. Vejita looked down and noticed her eyes closed, taking on a peaceful look. 'I wonder if she's asleep?' He moved to pull himself away but found resistance as Bulma pulled him back. He cleared his throat but she did nothing. He noticed away from her to take in his surroundings. Her room looked like a tornado hit...daily. Slowly he noticed she was shifting, unwrapping herself. 'Finally!' his mind screamed. Then he felt something else... her fingers intertwined with his own and she pulled his hand up to stroke her cheek. To Bulma, it was the best feeling in the world, like flying or all the happiness entering her mind in that moment. And to her surprise, Vejita hadn't tried to pull away. But if she had opened her eyes she would have seen the shocked and agitated look on Vejita's face. But Bulma didn't open her eyes. She just continued to rub her cheek against his hand, up and down, up and down...
Wanna live forever
Wanna touch your hand and explode like a star...
What did you guys think? Read and review, onnegai (please!!!) I kinda like how this is going. I'm trying to keep Vejita in character at all times so when I find him drifting I try to snap him right back. Not an easy feat I tell you. *sigh* But I do like what's coming from my mind right now and I love the song which makes this fic extra special. There may be a special *ahem* chapter at the end if you know what I mean, so if I have any takers to write it that would be appreciated. Unless you REALLY want to read a crappy lem, then by all means, ignore this note. (Not good for your health though. My lem would probably cause nightmares and the like heh heh heh... *sweat drops*) Thanks for reading! G' night!