Last time:
"He says we're going on our date tomorrow night and he's picking me up at the school and has a dress for me and thinks I'm going to go along with it. Uh! Maris, you owe me big."
"S-Sorry," she laughed, dodging the pillow Bulma threw at her. "But hey, you might have fun."
**********************************************
Bulma started the next day with a massive chip on her shoulder. All the rest of the night before she'd been fuming over Vegeta's cockiness, only to be reminded that she had be "in love" with him for the past two years. In a fury of emotions, she tossed all her Green Dragon CDs in the trash, though retrieved them after her friends left. That morning she wasn't even paying attention as she threw her clothes on; jeans cut-off at the knees and a Green Dragon T-shirt, slipping on a pair of flip-flops absently as she went out the door.
When she arrived at school she'd managed to cool herself down some and entered the building with a tired smile. Who cared if Vegeta was a prick, she only had to see him once more, though as she thought about it, she wondered why she HAD to. It was Maris' stupid bet, not hers. Oh well, she shrugged. It could have been worse.
But, of course, just as that thought crossed her mind, Yamcha crossed her path and stopped in front of her, his eyes swollen. He'd been crying. She didn't care.
"Bulma," he sighed, almost sounding genuine. She refused to meet his gaze. "Look at me."
"Why are you pestering me?" It wasn't so much of a mean question as an honest one. She truly wanted to know why a guy who she'd dated since Middle School and cheated on her now wanted to reconcile. If he loved her so damn much he'd leave her alone.
"I can't get you off my mind," he said, reaching out to take her hand. She jerked back and glared at him. "I don't know, B—" Her glare hardened. He was NOT allowed to call her that anymore. "—I just, I can't stop thinking that I made the worst mistake of my life breaking up with—"
"Excuse me, Yamcha, but you didn't break up with me. I left you after you partied down one weekend. I cried for one day and then forgot about you. I don't need apologies or lame-ass justifications for what exactly happened. We're over and I'm happy." She finally looked at him, his eyes quivering. Good, she thought, he should cry. "And to tell you the truth, I was relieved when you slept with what's-her-face. I hadn't been happy with you since, oh, I don't know, the first six months of our relationship. After that you wore on me and I got bored." Truthfully, he'd been straying from her, not being open or romantic anymore, and she'd been crushed, though stuck with him out of need and acceptance. She was the most popular girl in school, but not because she dressed the best or was a bitch to everyone. On the contrary, she was nice to every person, lest they were mean to her, and everyone loved her for it; inside everyone wanted to be her.
"I know," he sighed. "You're right. It's just hard, you know? Knowing that I blew it with the only girl I ever loved."
"And you cheated on me out of this proclaimed love?"
"I was scared! I didn't know what I was feeling and I fled."
"And you just happened to end up in another girl's arms?"
"I—"
"It doesn't matter, Yamcha," she grumbled. If she didn't get out of this quick she'd be late for AP Physics. "You cheated, and we're over. I haven't thought about you all summer and now you're bombarding me. Just leave me alone and move on."
"But I love you, B."
"And I love not being late to class. Good-bye."
**********************************************************
"That guy is unbelievable," Maris snorted, as she plopped down beside Chi-Chi in the lunch booth, across from Bulma and Krillin.
"Who?" Chi-Chi asked, sipping on her diet iced-tea. It was her usual lunch, though everyone always urged her to actually eat something.
"That Yamcha guy that Bulma used to date." Bulma's eyes narrowed. What was he up to? "I was in the lunch line and all of a sudden he grabbed my arm and starting asking me all these questions about Bulma. Is she really happy? Does she talk about me? Has she found someone else? I didn't even know he knew I hung out with you guys." She shook all over then grabbed up her soda and opened it with a hiss. "Gave me the creeps the way he starred at me. I didn't say one word."
"And you shouldn't have," Chi-Chi mumbled, her eyes drifting around the cafeteria to where the man in question sat on a bench against the far wall, his knees drawn up. He looked pathetic all alone. She almost smiled at the idea of him being miserable, though stopped herself. It was TOO sad to poke fun at.
A few minutes later he walked by the table, sniffling, and dropped a crumpled ball of notebook paper in front of Bulma. She ignored any and all actions on his part and continued eating her macaroni and cheese, wondering how they got the cheese so orange and not even wanting to think of what the green specks were. When she didn't grab the obvious note, or even look at it, Chi-Chi picked it up and opened it.
"I don't care what it says," Bulma said, poking at her food. She didn't want to admit it, but as her friend unwrinkled the note her stomach turned and she was no longer that hungry. Why, after an entire summer, was he coming to her now? He could have come to her at any time during those three months and had this settled before school started. Now they were the talk of the school and all eyes seemed to be on them, as they once were last year. She hated him for it.
"You sure?" Chi-Chi asked, her voice unsteady. Bulma didn't notice.
"Yes."
"I think you should read it."
"Why? What does that say that he hasn't said to me before? I'm not going to pity him or forgive him or even talk to him again. So what's in there that will change my mind about him?" Now the thought of food completely repulsed her and she shoved her tray away.
"I think you should read it yourself. I…I don't want to say." Maris leaned over her shoulder, read for a moment, then gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Her composure shifted in one swift instant and she tore the note loose for Chi-Chi's hands and shoved it at Bulma.
"Read it."
"No."
"Read it."
"NO."
"Dear Bulma," Maris read, ignoring her angry glares and frustrated huffs. She'd thank her later for this. "I'm apologizing ahead of time for what I'm about to tell you, but it's all that I can think of to get you to talk civilly with me." She paused and glanced at Bulma, and didn't want to continue. The point of the letter would ruin all hate she was entitled to have for her ex. "Last year, after we broke up, I was confused but sort of relieved. I liked my new freedom, but hated being alone. I missed you a lot when summer came 'cause I remembered our pool parties." Another pause. "I went on a few dates, and it was then that it hit me—I loved you and always had. That was the horrible feeling in my gut, only made worse by the fact that I had completely lost you and it was all my fault. My parents tried to comprehend the situation and comfort me the best they could, but I really didn't tell them anything. That's what this note is about, my parents." Maris stopped there and set the paper in front of Bulma. Her blue eyes instinctively drifted to the last few sentences of his plea for reconciliation.
When she saw those words she thought she'd misread them, and then her heart seemed to stop and she felt bile rise in her throat.
"Oh Kami," she moaned, tears already welling in her eyes. "I think I'm gonna be sick." But before her friends could comment, she bolted out of her chair, over-turning it, and ran from the packed and gawking cafeteria.
Mr. and Mrs. Yosano were dead.
***********************************************************
"Why didn't you call me?" Bulma asked, curling her fingers around Yamcha's clenched hands that sat in his lap. She'd run through the halls for a full ten minutes before she saw him in the courtyard and burst through the doors, shouting wildly to grab his attention. But he'd been starring at her since she'd run by the window then screeched to a halt on the linoleum floors. "You know I would have come to see you."
"I didn't want you to feel like you had to pity me," he said with a shrug. "But then I saw you yesterday after not seeing you all summer, and I just couldn't handle it. I had to talk to you…This was only a last resort."
"Yamcha?"
He looked at her, though averted his eyes. He was ashamed for having "conned" her into speaking with him. But she didn't care about that, and didn't think she ever would; he needed to talk with her and so that's what she would give him. She'd loved his parents to death and always missed them more than Yamcha when they went on vacation. And now they were dead, killed tragically in a train accident three weeks into the summer. Why hadn't she heard about this sooner?
"How could I have not known about this?"
"It was in Europe. They were taking a second honeymoon on account of my dad's promotion. I don't think anyone but you, and your friends, and the administration know." He took a deep breath, feeling guilty that he hands were on his. He'd betrayed her and now she was comforting him. It was all wrong. "I live with my widowed Aunt. She's nice, just, well, not them."
"And none of your friends know?"
"I don't have people over. And I don't want anyone else knowing. It's bad enough to have my Aunt tell me stories about her and my mother when they were kids. I don't need a bunch of teenagers bombarding me with questions."
"But how could you keep it a secret? I mean, there was a funeral and a mass, and, didn't they notice you were upset?"
"I only cried when I was alone," he sighed, slowly slipping his hands from Bulma. She tried to grab him around the shoulders instead, but he jerked away.
"Yamcha. I know how close you were to them. I can't pretend to know how you feel, but I want to be here for you."
"I wish it didn't have to be this that brought you back to me. I just want you to not be bitter. I was a stupid kid and you were hurt for no reason. I can't ever take that back. My parents are dead and the only thing I want is for you to not cringe when I walk by you."
"Me too," she said hesitantly. She felt oddly comfortable with him, however. They had dated for so long that it was like they'd known each other since birth. All their pubescent stages they'd experienced together, including losing their virginity to one another. Bulma wondered in that instance if she would say yes if he wanted to sleep with her again. And she found that she didn't want to say no, though the thought of being with him after he'd been with another girl, and possibly others, gave her a shiver. He was now more experienced than her.
"What are you thinking?" he suddenly asked her, as if sensing her thoughts. She stiffened.
"I don't want to say. It's…rude."
"Rude?" He laughed, leaning back on his hands, the sun-warmed grass poking out between his fingers. "Try me."
"I was thinking that I…I wouldn't object if you…well, if you asked me to sleep with you again."
He let out another huff of a laugh, then fell back onto the ground, his hands under his head.
"I wouldn't ask you that, B. I'm not going to rope you back into my life. That's not what this is all about."
She laid down beside him, propping her head up with her elbow. The bell rang three times, signaling the end of lunch, before Bulma spoke. Neither was going anywhere anytime soon.
"Then what is it about?"
"Being with you," he said a matter-of-factly. "What else?" He turned on his side to face her, finding the urge to kiss her almost impossible to resist. But he did. "I just wanted to spend some time with you and not have that awful hatred. I know that we can never have what we once did, and really, I wouldn't want that. We weren't good for each other, at all. We weren't even a couple really for, like, the last two years. It was just two people clinging to one another for some unknown reason and being passionate once and awhile to relieve stress. We didn't have a picture perfect relationship. What I want is to be able to talk to you, you know, like in passing, or maybe on the phone sometime, and not have you be thinking in the back of your head what a horrible guy I am and how you want to pop my head off with a shotgun."
"Yamcha, I don't—"
"I know you don't want me dead, even then, but you still were hurt and bitter. I don't want you bitter anymore. That's probably the biggest reason for this—" He motioned between them. "—I can't stand to see you upset or bitter. I want you to feel free to be happy and not have any regrets. Don't look back on us and regret our time together. We were people catering to our own personal needs and it just so happened that we needed another person to fulfill them. When I did what I did it was a release for you from us to pursue other options; think of it that way, otherwise, you'll never get that bitterness to go away."
"You know?" Bulma laughed, finally feeling comfortable enough with the situation to do so. It was clear that he'd already mourned his parents and was slowly beginning to recover and collect himself. She'd be damned if she was going to pressure him into deep conversations about how he felt when he was starting to accept his fate. "That somehow makes complete sense, and I'm not just saying that, either. I get what you mean." She leaned in and kissed his forehead, a tender gesture that she'd done too many times in the past to remember. "And I forgive you."
"I never—"
"I know, but I still do. I see where everything went wrong, and if you hadn't done that when you did, I probably would have later on. Who knows? We weren't meant to have that kind of relationship together, you're right about that. I think friendship works great for us."
He smiled genuinely for the first time since his parents died.
"I owe you everything," he sighed, rolling back onto his back. "And don't worry about my feelings for you. I'll find someone someday to use them on."
"I'll still worry, and you know it."
"I know. You worry about everything."
"Yamcha?"
"Hmm?"
"I loved you too."
"I know you did," he said, his smile broadening. Finally she could be happy again.
*********************************************************************
Bulma walked lazily down the hall, the thought of detention not scaring her as much as she thought it would, having never been a bad kid. It didn't matter that she'd skipped an entire period to talk with Yamcha in the courtyard, and now had detention for the rest of the week. She wondered if the bad kids ever accomplished that in the first week of school, and found that when she entered her assigned room, that they did.
Chi-Chi and Krillin had been confused with her news to them that she was now friends with Yamcha and had forgiven him. Just that morning she'd been cursing him to Hell and now she was skipping class to be with him. Of course the circumstances were understandable, but Bulma's change was not. Sure the guy lost his parents, but he'd still cheated on her. Didn't that still deserve her hate? Chi-Chi thought so.
Maris felt she didn't have a right to put her two cents in, though when Bulma pressured her, admitted that she agreed with her and was sent a glare from Chi-Chi. She knew what he'd meant in his speech to Bulma, which she'd reiterated to them as best as she could; they had never had a truly loving relationship and as a result they could be friends in the long run. It made perfect sense to her.
Now Bulma sat in a room full of kids that either starred openly at her, or ignored her all together. She smelled marijuana as soon as she opened the door and nearly coughed, but stopped herself. Not that the room was filled with smoke, but the smell was not something she had good memories with. She and Yamcha had tried smoking it once together and they'd ended up having unprotected sex and then a pregnancy scare. It was the worst point in their relationship; they fought for weeks and Bulma blamed him completely.
She was definitely out of place there, but not uncomfortable. She knew she'd done wrong by skipping class and so this was her punishment. She wasn't one to get angry when she got what she deserved. But her thoughts were far from the drug-induce stares she was receiving. She was silently mourning the loss of two of the greatest people she'd had the pleasure of meeting.
Mr. and Mrs. Yosano had been a constant part of Bulma's life ever since she and Yamcha began to date. They drove them to their first movie, took them to dinner at their first fancy restaurant, and Mrs. Yosano even took her shopping, though Bulma wasn't exactly the shopping type. They were proud parents and happy spouses, loving each other and their only son perfectly and completely. They knew he had flaws, but instead of sneering at them and grumbling over having "gone wrong" in raising him, they embraced him closer and accepted who he was. And they accepted her as well, even if she wasn't a "prettied-up" girl who caked on make-up and bought expensive dressed for movie dates. She was herself around them, ratty jeans and messy ponytail, and they accepted and loved her.
She put her head down on her desk and cried quietly and freely for the first time since she found out what had befallen her belovéd surrogate parents. She would visit their grave on the way home.
***************************************************************
Vegeta thundered down the halls of Orange Star High School, ignoring all the gasps and stares as he went. Of course they were shocked to see the famed Vegeta Ouji walking through THEIR school, but he hadn't time to shoot them angry glares or bark insults. It was 3:10 and Bulma wasn't in the parking lot awaiting his arrival as she should have been.
He rounded the corner and ran smack dab into someone as they came in the other direction. He was about to yell at them, when he realized it was Maris, and only smirked.
"Vegeta," she said nonchalantly. All those in the halls that were readying themselves to go home stopped what they'd been doing and starred at the megastar that stood in their school. What could he be doing there? Of all places? "Bulma has detention. She'll be out at 3:30."
"Detention?" he scoffed, leaning against the wall. "What'd the harpy do? Raise her hand one too many times?" Of course he knew nothing of Bulma's nature, but figured that since she was a genius, she was the only one in class answering any questions. And never, ever, got detention.
"It's complicated, ok? So I suggest you come back some other time." He gave her a strange look, as if he couldn't understand how someone as cheery and bright-eyed as Maris could be giving him short, stiff answers.
"That's not going to work," he said. "I don't want to see any of you people again, but I never back out of a bet, so I want to get this over and done with as soon as I can. I don't want to spend time with someone I don't like on my vacation. So she best be on my bus at 3:30."
"And if she's not?" Maris held her ground. Bulma had experienced an extremely stressful day already. She was not about to let Vegeta, of all people, ruin it for her further. No matter who he was.
"Whatever," he said after a considerable pause, then turned and walked the other way and around the corner. Maris thought about following him for a split second, then thought the better of it and continued her way out of the school. She had a chemistry quiz to study for.
***************************************************************
Bulma shuffled lazily out of detention, her head full and her eyes swollen. No one had really acknowledged her crying, which she was thankful for, and she was about ready to collapse from emotional exhaustion; she'd been emotionless for the past three months and now her floodgates were broken open. She hadn't realized just how much the Yosanos had meant to her.
She cursed herself for not visiting with them after her break-up with Yamcha.
When she finally reached the humid end-of-summer air outside, she felt a small bit calmer, though nothing close to happy. She wouldn't be happy for a little while with the death of her favorite couple hanging over her head. Not that she felt guilty about it, because that was ridiculous; only upset that she hadn't been able to say good-bye. They were a huge chunk of her life. She practically grew into a woman in their home. And now Yamcha lived with his Aunt? It was almost too much to accept just then. It had been easier when Yamcha was there; comforting another took no thought really. Now she was drowning in sorrow.
"Woman." A sharp voice startled her as she approached her car. To her complete surprise she found Vegeta leaning against it, his arms crossed. Her first thought was: How does he know that's my car? Though she quickly remembered that she'd driven it to the concert.
"Not now, Vegeta," she grumbled. She knew what he wanted, and she was NOT in the mood to go bar hopping with the world's most arrogant man.
"Just get on the damn bus. I don't have all the time in the world, you know."
"I said, NOT NOW!" she barked back, throwing her backpack to the pavement. It wasn't like her to throw fits, but there was just something about that guy that really got under her skin. He wasn't more rude to her than he was anyone else, but just his whole way of carrying himself threw her. He could make so much of his life, and he simply refused to do it. "I just went through hell today. I do not need some arrogant bastard who only thinks about himself trying to get in my pants because of a stupid bet that I wasn't even involved in!" Her fists were clenched so tightly that she thought her fingers might break. She let her arms go limp. "Nevermind," she sighed, grabbing her bag off the parking lot. She fished her keys out of the front pouch, made sure the doors were locked with a beep, then slung the bag over her shoulder and walked calmly towards the massive, looming tour bus. "I need to make a stop on the way."
Vegeta starred after her for a moment, then huffed, and followed. Kami help him if he ever dated a woman like her.
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---Chapter 6!! Hey! How was that? You like my Yamcha thing? I thought it was good, but let's hear what you think :P
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters)
Next time: The date!!!
"He says we're going on our date tomorrow night and he's picking me up at the school and has a dress for me and thinks I'm going to go along with it. Uh! Maris, you owe me big."
"S-Sorry," she laughed, dodging the pillow Bulma threw at her. "But hey, you might have fun."
**********************************************
Bulma started the next day with a massive chip on her shoulder. All the rest of the night before she'd been fuming over Vegeta's cockiness, only to be reminded that she had be "in love" with him for the past two years. In a fury of emotions, she tossed all her Green Dragon CDs in the trash, though retrieved them after her friends left. That morning she wasn't even paying attention as she threw her clothes on; jeans cut-off at the knees and a Green Dragon T-shirt, slipping on a pair of flip-flops absently as she went out the door.
When she arrived at school she'd managed to cool herself down some and entered the building with a tired smile. Who cared if Vegeta was a prick, she only had to see him once more, though as she thought about it, she wondered why she HAD to. It was Maris' stupid bet, not hers. Oh well, she shrugged. It could have been worse.
But, of course, just as that thought crossed her mind, Yamcha crossed her path and stopped in front of her, his eyes swollen. He'd been crying. She didn't care.
"Bulma," he sighed, almost sounding genuine. She refused to meet his gaze. "Look at me."
"Why are you pestering me?" It wasn't so much of a mean question as an honest one. She truly wanted to know why a guy who she'd dated since Middle School and cheated on her now wanted to reconcile. If he loved her so damn much he'd leave her alone.
"I can't get you off my mind," he said, reaching out to take her hand. She jerked back and glared at him. "I don't know, B—" Her glare hardened. He was NOT allowed to call her that anymore. "—I just, I can't stop thinking that I made the worst mistake of my life breaking up with—"
"Excuse me, Yamcha, but you didn't break up with me. I left you after you partied down one weekend. I cried for one day and then forgot about you. I don't need apologies or lame-ass justifications for what exactly happened. We're over and I'm happy." She finally looked at him, his eyes quivering. Good, she thought, he should cry. "And to tell you the truth, I was relieved when you slept with what's-her-face. I hadn't been happy with you since, oh, I don't know, the first six months of our relationship. After that you wore on me and I got bored." Truthfully, he'd been straying from her, not being open or romantic anymore, and she'd been crushed, though stuck with him out of need and acceptance. She was the most popular girl in school, but not because she dressed the best or was a bitch to everyone. On the contrary, she was nice to every person, lest they were mean to her, and everyone loved her for it; inside everyone wanted to be her.
"I know," he sighed. "You're right. It's just hard, you know? Knowing that I blew it with the only girl I ever loved."
"And you cheated on me out of this proclaimed love?"
"I was scared! I didn't know what I was feeling and I fled."
"And you just happened to end up in another girl's arms?"
"I—"
"It doesn't matter, Yamcha," she grumbled. If she didn't get out of this quick she'd be late for AP Physics. "You cheated, and we're over. I haven't thought about you all summer and now you're bombarding me. Just leave me alone and move on."
"But I love you, B."
"And I love not being late to class. Good-bye."
**********************************************************
"That guy is unbelievable," Maris snorted, as she plopped down beside Chi-Chi in the lunch booth, across from Bulma and Krillin.
"Who?" Chi-Chi asked, sipping on her diet iced-tea. It was her usual lunch, though everyone always urged her to actually eat something.
"That Yamcha guy that Bulma used to date." Bulma's eyes narrowed. What was he up to? "I was in the lunch line and all of a sudden he grabbed my arm and starting asking me all these questions about Bulma. Is she really happy? Does she talk about me? Has she found someone else? I didn't even know he knew I hung out with you guys." She shook all over then grabbed up her soda and opened it with a hiss. "Gave me the creeps the way he starred at me. I didn't say one word."
"And you shouldn't have," Chi-Chi mumbled, her eyes drifting around the cafeteria to where the man in question sat on a bench against the far wall, his knees drawn up. He looked pathetic all alone. She almost smiled at the idea of him being miserable, though stopped herself. It was TOO sad to poke fun at.
A few minutes later he walked by the table, sniffling, and dropped a crumpled ball of notebook paper in front of Bulma. She ignored any and all actions on his part and continued eating her macaroni and cheese, wondering how they got the cheese so orange and not even wanting to think of what the green specks were. When she didn't grab the obvious note, or even look at it, Chi-Chi picked it up and opened it.
"I don't care what it says," Bulma said, poking at her food. She didn't want to admit it, but as her friend unwrinkled the note her stomach turned and she was no longer that hungry. Why, after an entire summer, was he coming to her now? He could have come to her at any time during those three months and had this settled before school started. Now they were the talk of the school and all eyes seemed to be on them, as they once were last year. She hated him for it.
"You sure?" Chi-Chi asked, her voice unsteady. Bulma didn't notice.
"Yes."
"I think you should read it."
"Why? What does that say that he hasn't said to me before? I'm not going to pity him or forgive him or even talk to him again. So what's in there that will change my mind about him?" Now the thought of food completely repulsed her and she shoved her tray away.
"I think you should read it yourself. I…I don't want to say." Maris leaned over her shoulder, read for a moment, then gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Her composure shifted in one swift instant and she tore the note loose for Chi-Chi's hands and shoved it at Bulma.
"Read it."
"No."
"Read it."
"NO."
"Dear Bulma," Maris read, ignoring her angry glares and frustrated huffs. She'd thank her later for this. "I'm apologizing ahead of time for what I'm about to tell you, but it's all that I can think of to get you to talk civilly with me." She paused and glanced at Bulma, and didn't want to continue. The point of the letter would ruin all hate she was entitled to have for her ex. "Last year, after we broke up, I was confused but sort of relieved. I liked my new freedom, but hated being alone. I missed you a lot when summer came 'cause I remembered our pool parties." Another pause. "I went on a few dates, and it was then that it hit me—I loved you and always had. That was the horrible feeling in my gut, only made worse by the fact that I had completely lost you and it was all my fault. My parents tried to comprehend the situation and comfort me the best they could, but I really didn't tell them anything. That's what this note is about, my parents." Maris stopped there and set the paper in front of Bulma. Her blue eyes instinctively drifted to the last few sentences of his plea for reconciliation.
When she saw those words she thought she'd misread them, and then her heart seemed to stop and she felt bile rise in her throat.
"Oh Kami," she moaned, tears already welling in her eyes. "I think I'm gonna be sick." But before her friends could comment, she bolted out of her chair, over-turning it, and ran from the packed and gawking cafeteria.
Mr. and Mrs. Yosano were dead.
***********************************************************
"Why didn't you call me?" Bulma asked, curling her fingers around Yamcha's clenched hands that sat in his lap. She'd run through the halls for a full ten minutes before she saw him in the courtyard and burst through the doors, shouting wildly to grab his attention. But he'd been starring at her since she'd run by the window then screeched to a halt on the linoleum floors. "You know I would have come to see you."
"I didn't want you to feel like you had to pity me," he said with a shrug. "But then I saw you yesterday after not seeing you all summer, and I just couldn't handle it. I had to talk to you…This was only a last resort."
"Yamcha?"
He looked at her, though averted his eyes. He was ashamed for having "conned" her into speaking with him. But she didn't care about that, and didn't think she ever would; he needed to talk with her and so that's what she would give him. She'd loved his parents to death and always missed them more than Yamcha when they went on vacation. And now they were dead, killed tragically in a train accident three weeks into the summer. Why hadn't she heard about this sooner?
"How could I have not known about this?"
"It was in Europe. They were taking a second honeymoon on account of my dad's promotion. I don't think anyone but you, and your friends, and the administration know." He took a deep breath, feeling guilty that he hands were on his. He'd betrayed her and now she was comforting him. It was all wrong. "I live with my widowed Aunt. She's nice, just, well, not them."
"And none of your friends know?"
"I don't have people over. And I don't want anyone else knowing. It's bad enough to have my Aunt tell me stories about her and my mother when they were kids. I don't need a bunch of teenagers bombarding me with questions."
"But how could you keep it a secret? I mean, there was a funeral and a mass, and, didn't they notice you were upset?"
"I only cried when I was alone," he sighed, slowly slipping his hands from Bulma. She tried to grab him around the shoulders instead, but he jerked away.
"Yamcha. I know how close you were to them. I can't pretend to know how you feel, but I want to be here for you."
"I wish it didn't have to be this that brought you back to me. I just want you to not be bitter. I was a stupid kid and you were hurt for no reason. I can't ever take that back. My parents are dead and the only thing I want is for you to not cringe when I walk by you."
"Me too," she said hesitantly. She felt oddly comfortable with him, however. They had dated for so long that it was like they'd known each other since birth. All their pubescent stages they'd experienced together, including losing their virginity to one another. Bulma wondered in that instance if she would say yes if he wanted to sleep with her again. And she found that she didn't want to say no, though the thought of being with him after he'd been with another girl, and possibly others, gave her a shiver. He was now more experienced than her.
"What are you thinking?" he suddenly asked her, as if sensing her thoughts. She stiffened.
"I don't want to say. It's…rude."
"Rude?" He laughed, leaning back on his hands, the sun-warmed grass poking out between his fingers. "Try me."
"I was thinking that I…I wouldn't object if you…well, if you asked me to sleep with you again."
He let out another huff of a laugh, then fell back onto the ground, his hands under his head.
"I wouldn't ask you that, B. I'm not going to rope you back into my life. That's not what this is all about."
She laid down beside him, propping her head up with her elbow. The bell rang three times, signaling the end of lunch, before Bulma spoke. Neither was going anywhere anytime soon.
"Then what is it about?"
"Being with you," he said a matter-of-factly. "What else?" He turned on his side to face her, finding the urge to kiss her almost impossible to resist. But he did. "I just wanted to spend some time with you and not have that awful hatred. I know that we can never have what we once did, and really, I wouldn't want that. We weren't good for each other, at all. We weren't even a couple really for, like, the last two years. It was just two people clinging to one another for some unknown reason and being passionate once and awhile to relieve stress. We didn't have a picture perfect relationship. What I want is to be able to talk to you, you know, like in passing, or maybe on the phone sometime, and not have you be thinking in the back of your head what a horrible guy I am and how you want to pop my head off with a shotgun."
"Yamcha, I don't—"
"I know you don't want me dead, even then, but you still were hurt and bitter. I don't want you bitter anymore. That's probably the biggest reason for this—" He motioned between them. "—I can't stand to see you upset or bitter. I want you to feel free to be happy and not have any regrets. Don't look back on us and regret our time together. We were people catering to our own personal needs and it just so happened that we needed another person to fulfill them. When I did what I did it was a release for you from us to pursue other options; think of it that way, otherwise, you'll never get that bitterness to go away."
"You know?" Bulma laughed, finally feeling comfortable enough with the situation to do so. It was clear that he'd already mourned his parents and was slowly beginning to recover and collect himself. She'd be damned if she was going to pressure him into deep conversations about how he felt when he was starting to accept his fate. "That somehow makes complete sense, and I'm not just saying that, either. I get what you mean." She leaned in and kissed his forehead, a tender gesture that she'd done too many times in the past to remember. "And I forgive you."
"I never—"
"I know, but I still do. I see where everything went wrong, and if you hadn't done that when you did, I probably would have later on. Who knows? We weren't meant to have that kind of relationship together, you're right about that. I think friendship works great for us."
He smiled genuinely for the first time since his parents died.
"I owe you everything," he sighed, rolling back onto his back. "And don't worry about my feelings for you. I'll find someone someday to use them on."
"I'll still worry, and you know it."
"I know. You worry about everything."
"Yamcha?"
"Hmm?"
"I loved you too."
"I know you did," he said, his smile broadening. Finally she could be happy again.
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Bulma walked lazily down the hall, the thought of detention not scaring her as much as she thought it would, having never been a bad kid. It didn't matter that she'd skipped an entire period to talk with Yamcha in the courtyard, and now had detention for the rest of the week. She wondered if the bad kids ever accomplished that in the first week of school, and found that when she entered her assigned room, that they did.
Chi-Chi and Krillin had been confused with her news to them that she was now friends with Yamcha and had forgiven him. Just that morning she'd been cursing him to Hell and now she was skipping class to be with him. Of course the circumstances were understandable, but Bulma's change was not. Sure the guy lost his parents, but he'd still cheated on her. Didn't that still deserve her hate? Chi-Chi thought so.
Maris felt she didn't have a right to put her two cents in, though when Bulma pressured her, admitted that she agreed with her and was sent a glare from Chi-Chi. She knew what he'd meant in his speech to Bulma, which she'd reiterated to them as best as she could; they had never had a truly loving relationship and as a result they could be friends in the long run. It made perfect sense to her.
Now Bulma sat in a room full of kids that either starred openly at her, or ignored her all together. She smelled marijuana as soon as she opened the door and nearly coughed, but stopped herself. Not that the room was filled with smoke, but the smell was not something she had good memories with. She and Yamcha had tried smoking it once together and they'd ended up having unprotected sex and then a pregnancy scare. It was the worst point in their relationship; they fought for weeks and Bulma blamed him completely.
She was definitely out of place there, but not uncomfortable. She knew she'd done wrong by skipping class and so this was her punishment. She wasn't one to get angry when she got what she deserved. But her thoughts were far from the drug-induce stares she was receiving. She was silently mourning the loss of two of the greatest people she'd had the pleasure of meeting.
Mr. and Mrs. Yosano had been a constant part of Bulma's life ever since she and Yamcha began to date. They drove them to their first movie, took them to dinner at their first fancy restaurant, and Mrs. Yosano even took her shopping, though Bulma wasn't exactly the shopping type. They were proud parents and happy spouses, loving each other and their only son perfectly and completely. They knew he had flaws, but instead of sneering at them and grumbling over having "gone wrong" in raising him, they embraced him closer and accepted who he was. And they accepted her as well, even if she wasn't a "prettied-up" girl who caked on make-up and bought expensive dressed for movie dates. She was herself around them, ratty jeans and messy ponytail, and they accepted and loved her.
She put her head down on her desk and cried quietly and freely for the first time since she found out what had befallen her belovéd surrogate parents. She would visit their grave on the way home.
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Vegeta thundered down the halls of Orange Star High School, ignoring all the gasps and stares as he went. Of course they were shocked to see the famed Vegeta Ouji walking through THEIR school, but he hadn't time to shoot them angry glares or bark insults. It was 3:10 and Bulma wasn't in the parking lot awaiting his arrival as she should have been.
He rounded the corner and ran smack dab into someone as they came in the other direction. He was about to yell at them, when he realized it was Maris, and only smirked.
"Vegeta," she said nonchalantly. All those in the halls that were readying themselves to go home stopped what they'd been doing and starred at the megastar that stood in their school. What could he be doing there? Of all places? "Bulma has detention. She'll be out at 3:30."
"Detention?" he scoffed, leaning against the wall. "What'd the harpy do? Raise her hand one too many times?" Of course he knew nothing of Bulma's nature, but figured that since she was a genius, she was the only one in class answering any questions. And never, ever, got detention.
"It's complicated, ok? So I suggest you come back some other time." He gave her a strange look, as if he couldn't understand how someone as cheery and bright-eyed as Maris could be giving him short, stiff answers.
"That's not going to work," he said. "I don't want to see any of you people again, but I never back out of a bet, so I want to get this over and done with as soon as I can. I don't want to spend time with someone I don't like on my vacation. So she best be on my bus at 3:30."
"And if she's not?" Maris held her ground. Bulma had experienced an extremely stressful day already. She was not about to let Vegeta, of all people, ruin it for her further. No matter who he was.
"Whatever," he said after a considerable pause, then turned and walked the other way and around the corner. Maris thought about following him for a split second, then thought the better of it and continued her way out of the school. She had a chemistry quiz to study for.
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Bulma shuffled lazily out of detention, her head full and her eyes swollen. No one had really acknowledged her crying, which she was thankful for, and she was about ready to collapse from emotional exhaustion; she'd been emotionless for the past three months and now her floodgates were broken open. She hadn't realized just how much the Yosanos had meant to her.
She cursed herself for not visiting with them after her break-up with Yamcha.
When she finally reached the humid end-of-summer air outside, she felt a small bit calmer, though nothing close to happy. She wouldn't be happy for a little while with the death of her favorite couple hanging over her head. Not that she felt guilty about it, because that was ridiculous; only upset that she hadn't been able to say good-bye. They were a huge chunk of her life. She practically grew into a woman in their home. And now Yamcha lived with his Aunt? It was almost too much to accept just then. It had been easier when Yamcha was there; comforting another took no thought really. Now she was drowning in sorrow.
"Woman." A sharp voice startled her as she approached her car. To her complete surprise she found Vegeta leaning against it, his arms crossed. Her first thought was: How does he know that's my car? Though she quickly remembered that she'd driven it to the concert.
"Not now, Vegeta," she grumbled. She knew what he wanted, and she was NOT in the mood to go bar hopping with the world's most arrogant man.
"Just get on the damn bus. I don't have all the time in the world, you know."
"I said, NOT NOW!" she barked back, throwing her backpack to the pavement. It wasn't like her to throw fits, but there was just something about that guy that really got under her skin. He wasn't more rude to her than he was anyone else, but just his whole way of carrying himself threw her. He could make so much of his life, and he simply refused to do it. "I just went through hell today. I do not need some arrogant bastard who only thinks about himself trying to get in my pants because of a stupid bet that I wasn't even involved in!" Her fists were clenched so tightly that she thought her fingers might break. She let her arms go limp. "Nevermind," she sighed, grabbing her bag off the parking lot. She fished her keys out of the front pouch, made sure the doors were locked with a beep, then slung the bag over her shoulder and walked calmly towards the massive, looming tour bus. "I need to make a stop on the way."
Vegeta starred after her for a moment, then huffed, and followed. Kami help him if he ever dated a woman like her.
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---Chapter 6!! Hey! How was that? You like my Yamcha thing? I thought it was good, but let's hear what you think :P
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Next time: The date!!!