Last time:
"I know," he said after a long while. "Next time don't be such a bitch."
"Will do," she laughed. "I love you, Vegeta."
"Bye woman."
"Bye 'Geta."
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Vegeta paced his room, much resembling a lion walking the length of its cage in anger at the zoo, the area beneath his feet starting to wear. From what he'd found two days ago, the millions of sites he'd visited about Bulma's condition, not a whole lot of it was helpful. And none of it was comforting. It occurred to him several times that speaking with a professional psychologist at a local institution might be easier, but he the moment those thoughts entered his mind, he threw them back out. He refused to believe that Bulma was THAT helpless. The last thing he needed was someone telling him that the love of his life needed to be put in a straight jacket and locked in a padded room.
Of course, she wasn't anywhere near that serious. Her mind was just stuck, traumatized. A little therapy, with the right person, should help her in no time. The problem, though, was that speaking with psychiatrists didn't seem to help her at all. She was currently seeing her second one in three months, and while she admitted that she was opening up more with this woman, she also confessed that she knew she'd go nowhere with it, just like she went nowhere with the other doctor.
Finally, after what seemed like hours of thought, Vegeta decided what he would do. First, of course, he would discuss things thoroughly with Bulma, go over his ideas, and see if she had some of her own. Then, he'd personally look into everything, with or without her, and make sure she actually made an honest effort to accept the help give her. If she didn't, then he'd have to start at square one.
The idea exhausted him.
Then something occurred to him. When he was young, after his parents died, he was taken to see a shrink for years. And while he was very young and really didn't understand what was going on, he still made a conscious effort to repel the people that tried to help him. He went to four different doctors before his aunt and uncle decided that it would be best for him to just deal with the loss in his own way. Maybe it was just natural to shut out the people that tried to help you, those that devoted their lives to helping others. He also thought, however, that his guardians' decision to cut off his therapy was rash and selfish. They couldn't understand his attachment to his parents. Few people he knew had been so dependant on those that raised them as he was. After they died, it was like he was seeing the world from behind a screen; doomed to look and never interact. True, he shut himself out purposefully, but what else did they expect him to do? Accept it and move on?
For years he'd allowed his anger to consume him, loathing those that he lived with, while protecting those he cared for as if he were a parent himself. No one ever made that connection when he helped them, but every time someone was in need of his help, his parents' image was constantly in his mind's eye, tormenting him with their perfect smiles and loving eyes. Yes, he would be bitter and hateful to everyone, but he would balance it out with the sporadic kindness to his friends. Subconsciously he prayed that balance would balance him out.
"This is going nowhere," he hissed aloud to himself, and picked up the phone. From what she'd told him, Bulma should be home by now. When she finally picked up the phone after three long rings, he almost couldn't contain himself. When had he felt this strongly before? And why did he, Vegeta Ouji, deserve this happiness? But it was no time to think of such things. Enjoy the moment, live for it, because in the end he knew these moments would be his solace against his inner evil.
"I was wondering if you were going to call," she said, shaking his thoughts loose.
"I told you I was," he said, monotone, curling the computer printout nervously into a tube. How to bring it up? "How bad did you fuck up your lines today?"
"Not so bad," she laughed. Just as she remember. Well, almost. But then again, she was seeing a totally different side to him that most never even guessed could be there. "The director only yelled at me once. I think she yells at different people different days, 'cause most of her attention was on my co-star, Hisaki. She really grilled him today. Poor guy."
"Why the hell are you in that Kami forsaken place?" he suddenly snapped, taking a seat on his bed and leaning into his pillows. He hadn't washed his sheets since their night together; they still smelled like her, and it was absolutely maddening. "It's hideous," he added quickly, before she could say a word.
"Vegeta," she sighed. "You know I would move back to Satan City in a heartbeat, but I can't leave my family. You know that, too. They've been everything to me my entire life, and especially in the last four years. I didn't have you or the others; I had them."
"You're 18. You can leave."
"But I won't."
"Won't," he scoffed. "Whatever."
"Vegeta, please don't do this. I don't want to fight you over this. It's not going to change my mind. All it's going to do is upset us both. And its unfair of you to even think you could convince me to leave my family. What about you? You tell me you can't stand your aunt and uncle, but you're still there? Why don't you come live here?"
"I have school, woman."
"Yeah, until, what? May? June? That's seven months, Vegeta. I think we can last seven months with this arrangement. Besides, I think we need to get to know each other better before I get back into that bed with you. We moved too fast. We need to know more about each other. Kuso, Vegeta! I've been gone for four years. There have to be some things I don't know about you. I know there are things you don't know about me!"
"If that's what you want," he sighed after a moment, letting the papers drop from his fingers onto his lap. What was the use in fighting her over this?
"Yes, that's what I want. I'll be in town in two weeks. It's a Friday. I'm staying with 18 until Monday."
"And then you're going home," he groaned, rolling his eyes. When he went to see her, to ask her to be with him, something he knew she wanted as he wanted, he never suspected he'd have to sneak around and hardly see her. Their relationship had hardly started, and already it was going downhill.
"Not quite." His ears perked. The tone of her voice gave him the image of her beaming smile. It gave him a satisfying chill. "I told 18 I had a mini-vacation from Friday to Monday. But I don't have to be back to work until Wednesday night. The director is having surgery, and she doesn't want us practicing without being under her supervision."
Vegeta's face brightened into an actual smile for a split second. But then he remembered their fight, how her wanting to stay there had cut him, and he frowned.
"You're coming here then?"
"How?" she asked, sounding almost shocked.
"What do you mean how? Drive over."
"Vegeta, we're not supposed to be seen together. What do you plan on doing? Shutting me in your room for two days?"
"Something like that," he said, that old seduction in his voice.
"I have a better idea." She paused for effect, taking a small breath. "I'm going to rent a cheap room under an alias downtown. We can spend time there during the day, and I can come to your house for the night; slip out before dawn in the morning."
"And school? You want me to skip two days?"
"Well, I—"
"'Cause I think that's brilliant."
"Ass," she muttered. "Don't scare me like that."
"But it's so easy, woman," he laughed. It seemed now that all the weight of her condition had been lifted and he was able to breathe easy for the first time in hours. "So, what're you wearing?"
"I have to go," she sighed, smiling. "I'll call you tomorrow maybe. If I have time."
"Yeah, whatever. Bye."
"Vegeta."
"What?"
"A smile and bubbles." Before he could utter a sound, she hung up the phone, set it down, and sunk low into her bubble bath. Her life was perfect now. Nothing could go wrong.
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"Krillin!" 18 snapped, throwing a couch pillow at him as he walked into her house unannounced. "Get the hell out!"
"I love you too," he said, picking up the pillow and tossing it back to her.
"Bulma will be here in twenty minutes!"
"Oh yeah," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders unintentionally. Immediately she felt awful, and stood, enveloping him into a warm and comforting hug, a hug she knew would produce a smile in a matter of moments. He had once told her that the reason he loved her hugs so much was that most others perceived her as cold and distant and uncaring, but when she hugged him there was this overwhelming love and compassion she emitted. And it made him love her even more to know that only he, and a select group of others, knew this benevolent inner person that was the true 18 Gero. "I understand," he said after recovering from the initial euphoria of her touch. "I'm an ass for forgetting. You've been talking about it all week. I'm too used to routine."
"You know its fine, cueball. And its not like I'm not going to see you at all while she's here. She mentioned that she wants to get to know you better, so you'll definitely be here. And 17, well, you know how he is. He'll cling to Bulma because he can't deal with another who lives here."
"I wish I could be here for you when she comes," he sighed, pressing his head into the crook of her neck. "But I know its something you need to do on your own."
"You know how much I need your support."
"But…"
"But you also know how stubborn I am," she laughed, nudging his chin with her finger and captured his lips. He moaned softly into her, then released her and walked out without another word. No. He couldn't stay there; they'd already decided it. But could anyone blame him for trying? He found it hard to believe that she bought that he'd forgotten about today. Oh well, it was usual protocol for them; play the game for as long as the illusion is comfortable. He wondered when that comfort would go away.
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They embraced each other for so long it seemed they'd been in that doorway for hours before anyone said a word. The sun was just beginning to drop in the sky, the cool evening air sweeping in and softening the overall mood. How many years had this moment been in the making? The moment in which there was no ill feeling hanging in the background, where no ill feelings would come and ruin the first, stunning rush.
17 stood, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe between the kitchen and living room, watching as his sister and Bulma stood, locked in each other's arms, their eyes closed, the rest of the world shut out. He smiled softly at the sight; 18 had been miserable without Bulma, even when she was convinced she would never see her old friend again, she wouldn't let go. And now, she was latching on more than ever. He wondered how Bulma would react to his presence. Surely it would be a moment to remember; interesting to say the least. He couldn't remember the last time he'd talked to her.
Finally, when they couldn't stand it any longer, the girls released each other. Bulma's arms dropped to her sides, while 18 held her friend at arm's length, simply studying her for one last moment before they would have to speak. The time had come, and, across the room, 17 could feel the tension. It was chilling, but he couldn't turn away now. No matter how angry he knew his sister would be when she saw him, he also knew that subconsciously she wanted him there, ever ready to pull her into his arms and comfort any wounds. Of course, it was clear that this visit would not end in disaster. They'd tiptoed around the idea this time; it wasn't spur of the moment, it wasn't rash and sudden and built up to this amazing spectacle. It was plain and ordinary and full of sweet emotion. They loved each other completely.
And now they would speak, and the tension would lift, and he would be discovered.
"How was your trip?" 18 asked, not once taking her eyes off Bulma. "Did a cavalcade follow you here?"
"It was nice," Bulma answered, slipping from her grasp with such ease and grace, it appeared that 18 had let her go. 17 knew better. "I didn't see anyone follow me, thankfully. But who knows who could find me. Hopefully I'll only be in the papers for a week after this," she laughed, hefting her medium sized duffel bag over her shoulder. She was about to set it down next to the couch, when she straightened herself up and smiled. "17."
18 spun on her heels and glared at her brother, giving him a look at said more than the words that came next. "I thought you were going out," she said, approaching him. She was inches from him when she stopped, pulling his crossed arms loose, and grasping his wrist. He was standing before Bulma before he knew what was happening. "I'll be right back. I'm calling Baba. I hope you're ready for a night out."
"Don't bother," he said, wriggling his wrist free and giving his sister a brotherly kiss on the forehead. Silently, Bulma was stunned. She didn't remember the twins being so affectionate with one another. "I'm leaving in an hour."
"With Baba?"
"Of course. Vegeta too."
"Interesting," 18 laughed, and took a step back.
Almost immediately, Bulma found herself in 17's warm embrace. She could feel the tight rippling muscles of his arms pressed softly into her. He was gorgeous; a man now. She imagined a hundred girls hanging on his arms in the halls and everywhere he went. But something struck her as abnormal about that thought, though she couldn't put her finger on it.
"You're beautiful," he whispered in her ear, then leaned his head back, and gently brushed some hair behind her ear. "I missed you, you know."
"I missed you, too," she admitted, her cheeks reddening. And it was now, his hands still tentatively touching her, that she realized that she'd missed him deeply. Tears fought to hug her eyes, but, inevitably, a few fell free and streamed down her cheeks.
Quickly, he kissed them away, and pressed his lips against her forehead, his arms loose around her waist. There was such a strong love between them, and it hurt her through and through to think that she'd neglected it for so long.
"It's alright," 17 whispered, crouching slightly to look her in the eye. "I know and I forgive you, if you can forgive me."
Bulma nodded quickly, burying her face in his shoulder. When they separated finally, it was because she pulled away and sat uncertainly on the arm of the couch behind her. 17 stepped back, smiled, and left the room to get ready to go out.
"I'm sorry," Bulma sighed, looking at her feet. "I'm so used to a whole different life. Being here changes me completely."
"Shut up," 18 laughed, pulling her to her feet. "Why wouldn't you miss 17? You two were close, closer than I knew. 17 dealt with your move in his own way. And he loves you all the more for not drawing it out on him."
"I feel awful for not writing to him…Not once…How could I?"
"Well, let's make it simple," 18 said, picking up Bulma's duffel bag and motioning for her to follow her. "You were a bitch then, and you're not now. It's a big lie, but let's pretend its true and move on."
"Alright," Bulma laughed, as they walked through the familiar halls of the Gero residence. Their father was, of course, not there. He'd never been around in the past either. Bulma could scarcely remember him. "So, what are we doing tonight?"
"You, my friend, are in for quite the ride," 18 laughed, and closed the door behind them.
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Bulma held the stitch in her side, almost panting as she tried to calm herself down. It was four o'clock in the morning, and they were nowhere near sleep. They'd done everything from playing video games, making a huge mess while cooking dinner, to talking and joking for hours into the night.
"Kami," she sighed, leaning back. "You need to shut up before I collapse."
"It's true, I swear," 18 insisted.
"Right, right. We need more margaritas," she said, gesturing to their empty pitcher. "I'll get it."
She was halfway done preparing their drinks, when she heard several car doors slam and the low cacophony of voices advance towards the house. She set down the pitcher and crept slowly towards the dark living room, hiding just out of view in the doorway, the same doorway 17 had stood in for so long before being noticed.
Her entire body tensed as the door slowly swung open, and three shadowed figures walked in. Two were unmistakenable, and the other she suspected was 17's mystery date. They stood in such a way that only their heads were identifiable shapes, their bodies a mass of black. And then one of them, Vegeta, stepped away and left the other two embracing each other in the open door. She watched, her heart sinking, as his shape passed the kitchen window.
And then the living room erupted in a flood of light and she let out a tiny gasp, covering her mouth so not to be heard. 17 stood, his flowing black hair caressing his face, as another man was pressed against him, whispering inaudible affections in his ear. They touched each other with such unbridled abandon that Bulma was sure they'd been in love their entire lives. And when they kissed, their hands moving over one another, she felt a rush of emotion crowd around her.
"I'll see you tomorrow, number one," the taller, slightly muscular man, whispered lustfully to 17, his fingers playing with his silken locks.
"Please stay," 17 almost pleaded, kissing his lover feverishly. "My dad's never here. He'll never know you were here."
"And my father?" he laughed softly. "My mother? The king and queen of this miserable city? What would they say when their prince wasn't there in the morning? They would know where I was in a heartbeat, and I'd never see you again."
"I hate them," 17 sighed, but nodded. "One of these days they're going to have to accept who you are."
"Yes, well, right now they're content with verbally abusing me for loving you. I dream about the day the rest of the city knows, and then they'll flee in their stupid, childish shame, and I can have you by my side forever."
Across the room, Bulma's eyes widened and her jaw fell loose. This boy, 17's lover, wasn't an ordinary boy. He was Azumamaro Baba, son of Hogai and Maemi Baba, Satan City's richest, and therefore most powerful, family. When the Briefs had lived here, the Babas had been their archrivals, but neither family failed to attend an event at their enemies' home.
"I love you, number one," she heard Azumamaro whisper, kissing 17's lips tenderly. "And when you think of my evil family, remember that."
"I hardly know you," 17 sighed, returning the kiss, his visible hand raked in Azumamaro's wavy deep violet hair. "But I love you, too."
Bulma was about to turn away and return to 18's room, when she was pulled back abruptly, a hand clamped over her mouth, preventing her from yelling out.
"Quiet woman," a voice whispered, their face nuzzled in her neck. Her body relaxed instantly, and she spun around, her face beaming.
"Vegeta," she sighed, kissing him affectionately. "What are you doing here?"
"Bringing those love-sick pansies home," he laughed. "Don't look at me like that. Nothing in this world could make me turn my back on 17."
"You're perfect," she whispered, leaning into him.
Neither noticed the two figures standing five feet away from them, watching in stunned silence as the secret couple embraced each other in unmistakened love. Love that no one knew could be shared between Vegeta and another person. And such a strong love it almost brought tears to the eyes of the unnoticed onlookers.
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---Chapter 8!! :P Oh Kami! They've been discovered! What's going to happen now!? Ahh!…Find out next time ;) Heehee :)
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ReviewsMore Chapters)
Next time: Busted! Heehee!
"I know," he said after a long while. "Next time don't be such a bitch."
"Will do," she laughed. "I love you, Vegeta."
"Bye woman."
"Bye 'Geta."
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Vegeta paced his room, much resembling a lion walking the length of its cage in anger at the zoo, the area beneath his feet starting to wear. From what he'd found two days ago, the millions of sites he'd visited about Bulma's condition, not a whole lot of it was helpful. And none of it was comforting. It occurred to him several times that speaking with a professional psychologist at a local institution might be easier, but he the moment those thoughts entered his mind, he threw them back out. He refused to believe that Bulma was THAT helpless. The last thing he needed was someone telling him that the love of his life needed to be put in a straight jacket and locked in a padded room.
Of course, she wasn't anywhere near that serious. Her mind was just stuck, traumatized. A little therapy, with the right person, should help her in no time. The problem, though, was that speaking with psychiatrists didn't seem to help her at all. She was currently seeing her second one in three months, and while she admitted that she was opening up more with this woman, she also confessed that she knew she'd go nowhere with it, just like she went nowhere with the other doctor.
Finally, after what seemed like hours of thought, Vegeta decided what he would do. First, of course, he would discuss things thoroughly with Bulma, go over his ideas, and see if she had some of her own. Then, he'd personally look into everything, with or without her, and make sure she actually made an honest effort to accept the help give her. If she didn't, then he'd have to start at square one.
The idea exhausted him.
Then something occurred to him. When he was young, after his parents died, he was taken to see a shrink for years. And while he was very young and really didn't understand what was going on, he still made a conscious effort to repel the people that tried to help him. He went to four different doctors before his aunt and uncle decided that it would be best for him to just deal with the loss in his own way. Maybe it was just natural to shut out the people that tried to help you, those that devoted their lives to helping others. He also thought, however, that his guardians' decision to cut off his therapy was rash and selfish. They couldn't understand his attachment to his parents. Few people he knew had been so dependant on those that raised them as he was. After they died, it was like he was seeing the world from behind a screen; doomed to look and never interact. True, he shut himself out purposefully, but what else did they expect him to do? Accept it and move on?
For years he'd allowed his anger to consume him, loathing those that he lived with, while protecting those he cared for as if he were a parent himself. No one ever made that connection when he helped them, but every time someone was in need of his help, his parents' image was constantly in his mind's eye, tormenting him with their perfect smiles and loving eyes. Yes, he would be bitter and hateful to everyone, but he would balance it out with the sporadic kindness to his friends. Subconsciously he prayed that balance would balance him out.
"This is going nowhere," he hissed aloud to himself, and picked up the phone. From what she'd told him, Bulma should be home by now. When she finally picked up the phone after three long rings, he almost couldn't contain himself. When had he felt this strongly before? And why did he, Vegeta Ouji, deserve this happiness? But it was no time to think of such things. Enjoy the moment, live for it, because in the end he knew these moments would be his solace against his inner evil.
"I was wondering if you were going to call," she said, shaking his thoughts loose.
"I told you I was," he said, monotone, curling the computer printout nervously into a tube. How to bring it up? "How bad did you fuck up your lines today?"
"Not so bad," she laughed. Just as she remember. Well, almost. But then again, she was seeing a totally different side to him that most never even guessed could be there. "The director only yelled at me once. I think she yells at different people different days, 'cause most of her attention was on my co-star, Hisaki. She really grilled him today. Poor guy."
"Why the hell are you in that Kami forsaken place?" he suddenly snapped, taking a seat on his bed and leaning into his pillows. He hadn't washed his sheets since their night together; they still smelled like her, and it was absolutely maddening. "It's hideous," he added quickly, before she could say a word.
"Vegeta," she sighed. "You know I would move back to Satan City in a heartbeat, but I can't leave my family. You know that, too. They've been everything to me my entire life, and especially in the last four years. I didn't have you or the others; I had them."
"You're 18. You can leave."
"But I won't."
"Won't," he scoffed. "Whatever."
"Vegeta, please don't do this. I don't want to fight you over this. It's not going to change my mind. All it's going to do is upset us both. And its unfair of you to even think you could convince me to leave my family. What about you? You tell me you can't stand your aunt and uncle, but you're still there? Why don't you come live here?"
"I have school, woman."
"Yeah, until, what? May? June? That's seven months, Vegeta. I think we can last seven months with this arrangement. Besides, I think we need to get to know each other better before I get back into that bed with you. We moved too fast. We need to know more about each other. Kuso, Vegeta! I've been gone for four years. There have to be some things I don't know about you. I know there are things you don't know about me!"
"If that's what you want," he sighed after a moment, letting the papers drop from his fingers onto his lap. What was the use in fighting her over this?
"Yes, that's what I want. I'll be in town in two weeks. It's a Friday. I'm staying with 18 until Monday."
"And then you're going home," he groaned, rolling his eyes. When he went to see her, to ask her to be with him, something he knew she wanted as he wanted, he never suspected he'd have to sneak around and hardly see her. Their relationship had hardly started, and already it was going downhill.
"Not quite." His ears perked. The tone of her voice gave him the image of her beaming smile. It gave him a satisfying chill. "I told 18 I had a mini-vacation from Friday to Monday. But I don't have to be back to work until Wednesday night. The director is having surgery, and she doesn't want us practicing without being under her supervision."
Vegeta's face brightened into an actual smile for a split second. But then he remembered their fight, how her wanting to stay there had cut him, and he frowned.
"You're coming here then?"
"How?" she asked, sounding almost shocked.
"What do you mean how? Drive over."
"Vegeta, we're not supposed to be seen together. What do you plan on doing? Shutting me in your room for two days?"
"Something like that," he said, that old seduction in his voice.
"I have a better idea." She paused for effect, taking a small breath. "I'm going to rent a cheap room under an alias downtown. We can spend time there during the day, and I can come to your house for the night; slip out before dawn in the morning."
"And school? You want me to skip two days?"
"Well, I—"
"'Cause I think that's brilliant."
"Ass," she muttered. "Don't scare me like that."
"But it's so easy, woman," he laughed. It seemed now that all the weight of her condition had been lifted and he was able to breathe easy for the first time in hours. "So, what're you wearing?"
"I have to go," she sighed, smiling. "I'll call you tomorrow maybe. If I have time."
"Yeah, whatever. Bye."
"Vegeta."
"What?"
"A smile and bubbles." Before he could utter a sound, she hung up the phone, set it down, and sunk low into her bubble bath. Her life was perfect now. Nothing could go wrong.
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"Krillin!" 18 snapped, throwing a couch pillow at him as he walked into her house unannounced. "Get the hell out!"
"I love you too," he said, picking up the pillow and tossing it back to her.
"Bulma will be here in twenty minutes!"
"Oh yeah," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders unintentionally. Immediately she felt awful, and stood, enveloping him into a warm and comforting hug, a hug she knew would produce a smile in a matter of moments. He had once told her that the reason he loved her hugs so much was that most others perceived her as cold and distant and uncaring, but when she hugged him there was this overwhelming love and compassion she emitted. And it made him love her even more to know that only he, and a select group of others, knew this benevolent inner person that was the true 18 Gero. "I understand," he said after recovering from the initial euphoria of her touch. "I'm an ass for forgetting. You've been talking about it all week. I'm too used to routine."
"You know its fine, cueball. And its not like I'm not going to see you at all while she's here. She mentioned that she wants to get to know you better, so you'll definitely be here. And 17, well, you know how he is. He'll cling to Bulma because he can't deal with another who lives here."
"I wish I could be here for you when she comes," he sighed, pressing his head into the crook of her neck. "But I know its something you need to do on your own."
"You know how much I need your support."
"But…"
"But you also know how stubborn I am," she laughed, nudging his chin with her finger and captured his lips. He moaned softly into her, then released her and walked out without another word. No. He couldn't stay there; they'd already decided it. But could anyone blame him for trying? He found it hard to believe that she bought that he'd forgotten about today. Oh well, it was usual protocol for them; play the game for as long as the illusion is comfortable. He wondered when that comfort would go away.
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They embraced each other for so long it seemed they'd been in that doorway for hours before anyone said a word. The sun was just beginning to drop in the sky, the cool evening air sweeping in and softening the overall mood. How many years had this moment been in the making? The moment in which there was no ill feeling hanging in the background, where no ill feelings would come and ruin the first, stunning rush.
17 stood, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe between the kitchen and living room, watching as his sister and Bulma stood, locked in each other's arms, their eyes closed, the rest of the world shut out. He smiled softly at the sight; 18 had been miserable without Bulma, even when she was convinced she would never see her old friend again, she wouldn't let go. And now, she was latching on more than ever. He wondered how Bulma would react to his presence. Surely it would be a moment to remember; interesting to say the least. He couldn't remember the last time he'd talked to her.
Finally, when they couldn't stand it any longer, the girls released each other. Bulma's arms dropped to her sides, while 18 held her friend at arm's length, simply studying her for one last moment before they would have to speak. The time had come, and, across the room, 17 could feel the tension. It was chilling, but he couldn't turn away now. No matter how angry he knew his sister would be when she saw him, he also knew that subconsciously she wanted him there, ever ready to pull her into his arms and comfort any wounds. Of course, it was clear that this visit would not end in disaster. They'd tiptoed around the idea this time; it wasn't spur of the moment, it wasn't rash and sudden and built up to this amazing spectacle. It was plain and ordinary and full of sweet emotion. They loved each other completely.
And now they would speak, and the tension would lift, and he would be discovered.
"How was your trip?" 18 asked, not once taking her eyes off Bulma. "Did a cavalcade follow you here?"
"It was nice," Bulma answered, slipping from her grasp with such ease and grace, it appeared that 18 had let her go. 17 knew better. "I didn't see anyone follow me, thankfully. But who knows who could find me. Hopefully I'll only be in the papers for a week after this," she laughed, hefting her medium sized duffel bag over her shoulder. She was about to set it down next to the couch, when she straightened herself up and smiled. "17."
18 spun on her heels and glared at her brother, giving him a look at said more than the words that came next. "I thought you were going out," she said, approaching him. She was inches from him when she stopped, pulling his crossed arms loose, and grasping his wrist. He was standing before Bulma before he knew what was happening. "I'll be right back. I'm calling Baba. I hope you're ready for a night out."
"Don't bother," he said, wriggling his wrist free and giving his sister a brotherly kiss on the forehead. Silently, Bulma was stunned. She didn't remember the twins being so affectionate with one another. "I'm leaving in an hour."
"With Baba?"
"Of course. Vegeta too."
"Interesting," 18 laughed, and took a step back.
Almost immediately, Bulma found herself in 17's warm embrace. She could feel the tight rippling muscles of his arms pressed softly into her. He was gorgeous; a man now. She imagined a hundred girls hanging on his arms in the halls and everywhere he went. But something struck her as abnormal about that thought, though she couldn't put her finger on it.
"You're beautiful," he whispered in her ear, then leaned his head back, and gently brushed some hair behind her ear. "I missed you, you know."
"I missed you, too," she admitted, her cheeks reddening. And it was now, his hands still tentatively touching her, that she realized that she'd missed him deeply. Tears fought to hug her eyes, but, inevitably, a few fell free and streamed down her cheeks.
Quickly, he kissed them away, and pressed his lips against her forehead, his arms loose around her waist. There was such a strong love between them, and it hurt her through and through to think that she'd neglected it for so long.
"It's alright," 17 whispered, crouching slightly to look her in the eye. "I know and I forgive you, if you can forgive me."
Bulma nodded quickly, burying her face in his shoulder. When they separated finally, it was because she pulled away and sat uncertainly on the arm of the couch behind her. 17 stepped back, smiled, and left the room to get ready to go out.
"I'm sorry," Bulma sighed, looking at her feet. "I'm so used to a whole different life. Being here changes me completely."
"Shut up," 18 laughed, pulling her to her feet. "Why wouldn't you miss 17? You two were close, closer than I knew. 17 dealt with your move in his own way. And he loves you all the more for not drawing it out on him."
"I feel awful for not writing to him…Not once…How could I?"
"Well, let's make it simple," 18 said, picking up Bulma's duffel bag and motioning for her to follow her. "You were a bitch then, and you're not now. It's a big lie, but let's pretend its true and move on."
"Alright," Bulma laughed, as they walked through the familiar halls of the Gero residence. Their father was, of course, not there. He'd never been around in the past either. Bulma could scarcely remember him. "So, what are we doing tonight?"
"You, my friend, are in for quite the ride," 18 laughed, and closed the door behind them.
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Bulma held the stitch in her side, almost panting as she tried to calm herself down. It was four o'clock in the morning, and they were nowhere near sleep. They'd done everything from playing video games, making a huge mess while cooking dinner, to talking and joking for hours into the night.
"Kami," she sighed, leaning back. "You need to shut up before I collapse."
"It's true, I swear," 18 insisted.
"Right, right. We need more margaritas," she said, gesturing to their empty pitcher. "I'll get it."
She was halfway done preparing their drinks, when she heard several car doors slam and the low cacophony of voices advance towards the house. She set down the pitcher and crept slowly towards the dark living room, hiding just out of view in the doorway, the same doorway 17 had stood in for so long before being noticed.
Her entire body tensed as the door slowly swung open, and three shadowed figures walked in. Two were unmistakenable, and the other she suspected was 17's mystery date. They stood in such a way that only their heads were identifiable shapes, their bodies a mass of black. And then one of them, Vegeta, stepped away and left the other two embracing each other in the open door. She watched, her heart sinking, as his shape passed the kitchen window.
And then the living room erupted in a flood of light and she let out a tiny gasp, covering her mouth so not to be heard. 17 stood, his flowing black hair caressing his face, as another man was pressed against him, whispering inaudible affections in his ear. They touched each other with such unbridled abandon that Bulma was sure they'd been in love their entire lives. And when they kissed, their hands moving over one another, she felt a rush of emotion crowd around her.
"I'll see you tomorrow, number one," the taller, slightly muscular man, whispered lustfully to 17, his fingers playing with his silken locks.
"Please stay," 17 almost pleaded, kissing his lover feverishly. "My dad's never here. He'll never know you were here."
"And my father?" he laughed softly. "My mother? The king and queen of this miserable city? What would they say when their prince wasn't there in the morning? They would know where I was in a heartbeat, and I'd never see you again."
"I hate them," 17 sighed, but nodded. "One of these days they're going to have to accept who you are."
"Yes, well, right now they're content with verbally abusing me for loving you. I dream about the day the rest of the city knows, and then they'll flee in their stupid, childish shame, and I can have you by my side forever."
Across the room, Bulma's eyes widened and her jaw fell loose. This boy, 17's lover, wasn't an ordinary boy. He was Azumamaro Baba, son of Hogai and Maemi Baba, Satan City's richest, and therefore most powerful, family. When the Briefs had lived here, the Babas had been their archrivals, but neither family failed to attend an event at their enemies' home.
"I love you, number one," she heard Azumamaro whisper, kissing 17's lips tenderly. "And when you think of my evil family, remember that."
"I hardly know you," 17 sighed, returning the kiss, his visible hand raked in Azumamaro's wavy deep violet hair. "But I love you, too."
Bulma was about to turn away and return to 18's room, when she was pulled back abruptly, a hand clamped over her mouth, preventing her from yelling out.
"Quiet woman," a voice whispered, their face nuzzled in her neck. Her body relaxed instantly, and she spun around, her face beaming.
"Vegeta," she sighed, kissing him affectionately. "What are you doing here?"
"Bringing those love-sick pansies home," he laughed. "Don't look at me like that. Nothing in this world could make me turn my back on 17."
"You're perfect," she whispered, leaning into him.
Neither noticed the two figures standing five feet away from them, watching in stunned silence as the secret couple embraced each other in unmistakened love. Love that no one knew could be shared between Vegeta and another person. And such a strong love it almost brought tears to the eyes of the unnoticed onlookers.
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---Chapter 8!! :P Oh Kami! They've been discovered! What's going to happen now!? Ahh!…Find out next time ;) Heehee :)
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