"So you've never....been with anyone...but me?" He asked, tensely, wringing
his hands.
The gig was up. Vegeta saw it clear and true, and wondered if Bulma could also sense what was "troubling" Yamcha. Shaking his head, he couldn't stop himself from thinking that she deserved better.
She saw it. Narrowing her eyes even further, Bulma advanced on her boyfriend. He was hiding something, and she thought she knew what, but she prayed she was wrong. "You haven't been unfaithful to me....have you?" She asked, trying to seem sure of what the answer would be, but being unsuccessful in her attempts in optimism.
"Well...I uh...." He stuttered, backing up a few paces until he tripped over a tree stump and practically went sailing downwards.
"Tell me the truth!" She shouted, feeling the tears start to build up.
"Yes! I've slept around a few times, but they didn't mean anything to me Bulma, honestly...You're the only girl for me." He explained quickly, but watched as she recoiled in disbelief, her eyes welling up with tears. "I'm so sorry.."
The tears were coming, and Bulma was going to let them. Yamcha, the love of her life had been with other women. He had probably told them he loved them too, and had made them feel just as good as her. She couldn't believe it. "Get away from me!" She screamed. "I never want to see you ever again!!"
Those were the last words Yamcha heard her say, before Bulma burst into a flood of tears and took off running. "Wait! Don't....go..." He trailed off, finding that his efforts were in vain. She was gone. He blew it.
In the distance he could hear an engine roar, and a second later Bulma's blue hover car went sailing overhead. She was gone for good. "Dammit!" He cursed loudly, punching a tree with all his might. There was a loud crack as it broke neatly in two and fell to the ground.
"Heh heh heh, nice going." A voice came from within the trees. Yamcha whirled around to see a rather smug Vegeta standing there. Clenching his fists, Yamcha fought to control himself. Vegeta was the last person he wanted to see right now.
"How long have you been standing there?" He growled warningly, his tone making it very clear to the man that he was not to be toyed with.
Smirking, Vegeta took a few steps forward. He was going to enjoy this. "Long enough to see your little display. I don't understand why she keeps you around. You earthlings are so....puny." He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Watch it Vegeta, I'm not in the mood to take any of your shit." Yamcha warned, clenching his fists tighter at his sides.
"I'm shaking, earth boy." He responded flatly hoping to add to the flame of anger that was already burning within Yamcha.
Growling fiercely, Vegeta could see the scarlet color slowly return to Yamcha's face as he began to redden with rage. He was ready to run over there and break the cocky little prick in two neat little halves just as he had done to the tree. That would certainly brighten up his day and his life.
"Go ahead, come and get me." Vegeta offered, "I could use a little exercise."
The thought was very tempting, so tempting that for a moment Yamcha was about to accept and head right for Vegeta's pelvic area when something stopped him. There was a loud scream from the picnic area, and it momentarily took his focus away from the battle. Looking back to the smirking Vegeta he muttered. "Your days are numbered." Before dashing off to see what the problem was.
Vegeta laughed dryly at the thought of Yamcha posing any sort of threat to him or his days. Although, he was a little disappointed he didn't get to test out his strength in battle, but it was no big loss, he would get another chance. That he was sure of. A thought dawned on him suddenly, and surprisingly, he wondered how Bulma was doing. She certainly didn't look happy when she left. Not that he cared, but he didn't want her sulking around the house all day. She might not even go buy more food! That thought fresh in his mind, Vegeta took off into the air, a cloud of blue energy surrounding him.
Looking up, Yamcha saw what appeared to be Vegeta heading away. "Good riddance" He mustered, before turning back to the very frazzled Chi-Chi. It turned out that the scream had been a result of a horrendous accident involving a rock and her picnic spread. Frivolous as the incident was, Yamcha was partially glad that he had been drawn away from Vegeta. Who knew what kind of damage he would inflict upon the Saiyan-jinn. Besides, it would probably just make Bulma more mad at him. Bulma..he wondered how she was.
The sky was beginning to turn different shades of orange and purple as the sun set over the mountain. It was night, and there were many more hours to pass. Bulma tossed herself forward onto the dashboard of her hover car. It was more than obvious that she could not drive in her present condition, the tears preventing her from any sort of actual vision in the dark. She had already pulled over, and was now going to pour her heart out, not caring who heard it. A flood of her tears hit the wheel as she wailed into her folded arms.
It isn't fair, it just isn't. Why should she be the one who is hurting? Wasn't infidelity supposed to be rewarded? She had been faithful to Yamcha through and through, and this was how she was thanked for her limitless support and compassionate listening when he called her at 2:00 in the morning? This is how she gets repaid for never asking where he was and why he wasn't there. Life was so cruel.
"Dammit!" She screamed, pounding her fist down on the wheel. "Stop it Bulma." She said, wiping her eyes and attempting to steady her breathing. "You've got to be strong..You have to be the strong one." Sighing, she laid her head back against the seat and stared up at the intricate design of the roof of her car. The vehicle suddenly seemed very hot, and Bulma yanked down the window fiercely, enjoying the freezing wind that tore through her.
Yamcha....How could she live without him? It just didn't' seem as though there could be life without that quirky, sweet guy, who would always rush into battle head first without even thinking, and triumph in the end. How could she spend one day knowing that she would never see him look at her "that way" again. Knowing he would never hold her in his arms after they had just made love, the electricity between them taking on a life of it's own. He would never whisper in her ear in the middle of the night how much he loved her, so no one but her could hear. She would never feel that exileration of knowing that she was special enough to win the trust and love of this man. Then a thought struck her, and caused another onslaught of tears. She was not the only one he had ever held. He had told other girls, no matter how many, that he cared for them, and that he didn't care about Bulma or her feelings. How could he? How could he do that to someone he claimed to love.
Sobbing, Bulma fell over across the seat, putting her arms over her head as if trying to shield herself from the pain and the anger. There was no where to go from here, no where she wanted to go at least. And now, all she could do was cry.
****************************************
There was a loud creak as Vegeta opened the front door of the Capsule Corporation. Peering inside, he listened for any noises that could have come from Bulma. This was the first place she would have come, even though he couldn't see her car anywhere. Then again, she often reduced it to capsule form and put it in her pocket, so he could never be sure.
Vegeta didn't bother to wipe his feet, as Bulma often ordered, when he came inside, he looked around, hoping to see her. Listening again, all he could hear was the sound of silence, and an occasional purr from the cat who had located itself underneath the couch. No dreadful sobbing noises that could often be heard echoing around the house when Bulma was upset, and this time she was definitely upset.
Quickly and quietly, Vegeta began to pad down the hallway towards Bulma's room. If she was in there then she must be sleeping, and would not be happy to see him. That was perfectly normal. He pressed his ear to the door, waiting to see if anything unusual would arise. Nothing did. Beginning to loose his patience, Vegeta twisted the handle. It was unlocked, surprising. Pressing lightly he began to open the door. Normally, he would have just burst in and demanded to be fed, but this time it felt different somehow. Vegeta was actually worried whether or not he upset Bulma, and that was a rare occurrence indeed.
Nothing. Just great, the woman was out somewhere in her destructive emotional stupor, and was undoubtedly doing something horrendous to herself or whoever her unlucky victim just happened to be. Just peachy.
Walking inside the room, Vegeta looked around at the sight. He had never really taken time to look at the chamber, seeing as the only two times he had been in there had been under very different circumstances and he hadn't exactly been paying attention to the girlish intricacies of her lair. Now that he took the time to look, he found the place to be...bearable. To his surprise the room was small compared to the dwelling Vegeta had been given. While his room was the size of a small ballroom, hers was merely big enough for her big extravagant bed, two small bookcases, a desk, and the door to the outside balcony.
The walls were stripped of all additional color, besides one painting of a tree. Not just any tree though, a tree with branches that bared a striking resemblance to arms. Arms that were reaching out in hunger, or in love, or in rage, any sort of emotion that the mind could conceive. The brush strokes were ragged and sharp, causing the tree to take on a harsher appearance, as though it were staring at him, telling him something he couldn't hear. Torturing him with unspoken words. In the corner of the canvas, two signed words caught Vegeta's attention. Bulma Briefs.
Tearing his gaze off of the picture, and reminding himself firmly that it was only a tree. Vegeta focused on the desk in the corner, one of the only pieces of furniture in the mid-sized room. On the desk sat a dirty yellow lamp, a couple of notebooks that looked as though they were just there to gather dust, and a picture of Yamcha in a homemade frame lined with pink hearts.
The gig was up. Vegeta saw it clear and true, and wondered if Bulma could also sense what was "troubling" Yamcha. Shaking his head, he couldn't stop himself from thinking that she deserved better.
She saw it. Narrowing her eyes even further, Bulma advanced on her boyfriend. He was hiding something, and she thought she knew what, but she prayed she was wrong. "You haven't been unfaithful to me....have you?" She asked, trying to seem sure of what the answer would be, but being unsuccessful in her attempts in optimism.
"Well...I uh...." He stuttered, backing up a few paces until he tripped over a tree stump and practically went sailing downwards.
"Tell me the truth!" She shouted, feeling the tears start to build up.
"Yes! I've slept around a few times, but they didn't mean anything to me Bulma, honestly...You're the only girl for me." He explained quickly, but watched as she recoiled in disbelief, her eyes welling up with tears. "I'm so sorry.."
The tears were coming, and Bulma was going to let them. Yamcha, the love of her life had been with other women. He had probably told them he loved them too, and had made them feel just as good as her. She couldn't believe it. "Get away from me!" She screamed. "I never want to see you ever again!!"
Those were the last words Yamcha heard her say, before Bulma burst into a flood of tears and took off running. "Wait! Don't....go..." He trailed off, finding that his efforts were in vain. She was gone. He blew it.
In the distance he could hear an engine roar, and a second later Bulma's blue hover car went sailing overhead. She was gone for good. "Dammit!" He cursed loudly, punching a tree with all his might. There was a loud crack as it broke neatly in two and fell to the ground.
"Heh heh heh, nice going." A voice came from within the trees. Yamcha whirled around to see a rather smug Vegeta standing there. Clenching his fists, Yamcha fought to control himself. Vegeta was the last person he wanted to see right now.
"How long have you been standing there?" He growled warningly, his tone making it very clear to the man that he was not to be toyed with.
Smirking, Vegeta took a few steps forward. He was going to enjoy this. "Long enough to see your little display. I don't understand why she keeps you around. You earthlings are so....puny." He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Watch it Vegeta, I'm not in the mood to take any of your shit." Yamcha warned, clenching his fists tighter at his sides.
"I'm shaking, earth boy." He responded flatly hoping to add to the flame of anger that was already burning within Yamcha.
Growling fiercely, Vegeta could see the scarlet color slowly return to Yamcha's face as he began to redden with rage. He was ready to run over there and break the cocky little prick in two neat little halves just as he had done to the tree. That would certainly brighten up his day and his life.
"Go ahead, come and get me." Vegeta offered, "I could use a little exercise."
The thought was very tempting, so tempting that for a moment Yamcha was about to accept and head right for Vegeta's pelvic area when something stopped him. There was a loud scream from the picnic area, and it momentarily took his focus away from the battle. Looking back to the smirking Vegeta he muttered. "Your days are numbered." Before dashing off to see what the problem was.
Vegeta laughed dryly at the thought of Yamcha posing any sort of threat to him or his days. Although, he was a little disappointed he didn't get to test out his strength in battle, but it was no big loss, he would get another chance. That he was sure of. A thought dawned on him suddenly, and surprisingly, he wondered how Bulma was doing. She certainly didn't look happy when she left. Not that he cared, but he didn't want her sulking around the house all day. She might not even go buy more food! That thought fresh in his mind, Vegeta took off into the air, a cloud of blue energy surrounding him.
Looking up, Yamcha saw what appeared to be Vegeta heading away. "Good riddance" He mustered, before turning back to the very frazzled Chi-Chi. It turned out that the scream had been a result of a horrendous accident involving a rock and her picnic spread. Frivolous as the incident was, Yamcha was partially glad that he had been drawn away from Vegeta. Who knew what kind of damage he would inflict upon the Saiyan-jinn. Besides, it would probably just make Bulma more mad at him. Bulma..he wondered how she was.
The sky was beginning to turn different shades of orange and purple as the sun set over the mountain. It was night, and there were many more hours to pass. Bulma tossed herself forward onto the dashboard of her hover car. It was more than obvious that she could not drive in her present condition, the tears preventing her from any sort of actual vision in the dark. She had already pulled over, and was now going to pour her heart out, not caring who heard it. A flood of her tears hit the wheel as she wailed into her folded arms.
It isn't fair, it just isn't. Why should she be the one who is hurting? Wasn't infidelity supposed to be rewarded? She had been faithful to Yamcha through and through, and this was how she was thanked for her limitless support and compassionate listening when he called her at 2:00 in the morning? This is how she gets repaid for never asking where he was and why he wasn't there. Life was so cruel.
"Dammit!" She screamed, pounding her fist down on the wheel. "Stop it Bulma." She said, wiping her eyes and attempting to steady her breathing. "You've got to be strong..You have to be the strong one." Sighing, she laid her head back against the seat and stared up at the intricate design of the roof of her car. The vehicle suddenly seemed very hot, and Bulma yanked down the window fiercely, enjoying the freezing wind that tore through her.
Yamcha....How could she live without him? It just didn't' seem as though there could be life without that quirky, sweet guy, who would always rush into battle head first without even thinking, and triumph in the end. How could she spend one day knowing that she would never see him look at her "that way" again. Knowing he would never hold her in his arms after they had just made love, the electricity between them taking on a life of it's own. He would never whisper in her ear in the middle of the night how much he loved her, so no one but her could hear. She would never feel that exileration of knowing that she was special enough to win the trust and love of this man. Then a thought struck her, and caused another onslaught of tears. She was not the only one he had ever held. He had told other girls, no matter how many, that he cared for them, and that he didn't care about Bulma or her feelings. How could he? How could he do that to someone he claimed to love.
Sobbing, Bulma fell over across the seat, putting her arms over her head as if trying to shield herself from the pain and the anger. There was no where to go from here, no where she wanted to go at least. And now, all she could do was cry.
****************************************
There was a loud creak as Vegeta opened the front door of the Capsule Corporation. Peering inside, he listened for any noises that could have come from Bulma. This was the first place she would have come, even though he couldn't see her car anywhere. Then again, she often reduced it to capsule form and put it in her pocket, so he could never be sure.
Vegeta didn't bother to wipe his feet, as Bulma often ordered, when he came inside, he looked around, hoping to see her. Listening again, all he could hear was the sound of silence, and an occasional purr from the cat who had located itself underneath the couch. No dreadful sobbing noises that could often be heard echoing around the house when Bulma was upset, and this time she was definitely upset.
Quickly and quietly, Vegeta began to pad down the hallway towards Bulma's room. If she was in there then she must be sleeping, and would not be happy to see him. That was perfectly normal. He pressed his ear to the door, waiting to see if anything unusual would arise. Nothing did. Beginning to loose his patience, Vegeta twisted the handle. It was unlocked, surprising. Pressing lightly he began to open the door. Normally, he would have just burst in and demanded to be fed, but this time it felt different somehow. Vegeta was actually worried whether or not he upset Bulma, and that was a rare occurrence indeed.
Nothing. Just great, the woman was out somewhere in her destructive emotional stupor, and was undoubtedly doing something horrendous to herself or whoever her unlucky victim just happened to be. Just peachy.
Walking inside the room, Vegeta looked around at the sight. He had never really taken time to look at the chamber, seeing as the only two times he had been in there had been under very different circumstances and he hadn't exactly been paying attention to the girlish intricacies of her lair. Now that he took the time to look, he found the place to be...bearable. To his surprise the room was small compared to the dwelling Vegeta had been given. While his room was the size of a small ballroom, hers was merely big enough for her big extravagant bed, two small bookcases, a desk, and the door to the outside balcony.
The walls were stripped of all additional color, besides one painting of a tree. Not just any tree though, a tree with branches that bared a striking resemblance to arms. Arms that were reaching out in hunger, or in love, or in rage, any sort of emotion that the mind could conceive. The brush strokes were ragged and sharp, causing the tree to take on a harsher appearance, as though it were staring at him, telling him something he couldn't hear. Torturing him with unspoken words. In the corner of the canvas, two signed words caught Vegeta's attention. Bulma Briefs.
Tearing his gaze off of the picture, and reminding himself firmly that it was only a tree. Vegeta focused on the desk in the corner, one of the only pieces of furniture in the mid-sized room. On the desk sat a dirty yellow lamp, a couple of notebooks that looked as though they were just there to gather dust, and a picture of Yamcha in a homemade frame lined with pink hearts.