Despite the episode at the mall, her ruined dress, and Bulma's hurt pride, she was still ready to leave at seven o'clock for her date, even if that meant wearing the dusty black dress. She was waiting patiently at the kitchen table, drumming her newly polished nails on the wood and staring anxiously at the front door.
Vegeta strode in; he's obviously just been training. He mopped the perspiration off of his forehead with his towel and draped it over his shoulder before reaching into the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. He drained it without even taking a breath, never taking his mystified eyes off of Bulma.
She didn't even notice that he was there. When he finally spoke to her, she jumped slightly.
"You know the bastard isn't coming."
Bulma shot him a fierce look before saying, "Of course he is."
"If you say so." Vegeta left her alone.
Thirty minutes passed. No Yamcha.
An hour. No Yamcha.
Two and a half hours.
No Yamcha.
Finally, Bulma gave in to tears. It was now nine thirty. She hadn't eaten dinner. She hadn't danced. She hadn't even moved.
She had just been alone.
Her parents had gone to bed. Vegeta was off training in that goddamn room. Her boyfriend was eating dinner with some smutty blonde. And she had spent the night in the kitchen.
Eventually, she dried her tears and buried her face in her arms, trying to comfort her shattered soul. How many times had she fallen asleep on the kitchen table waiting? She didn't know how long she had been sitting there when she heard a voice.
"I told you," Vegeta said matter-of-factly. She turned to face him. He was leaning on the countertop, like he had been there the entire time.
Whether it was the sight of a man, her lack of food and sleep, PMS, or some combination of the three, new tears fell from her eyes as she tumbled onto Vegeta. He had never seen her cry, and it shocked him to see her sobbing into his chest. Uneasiness dominated Vegeta's feelings at that moment, so he just patted her back softly.
"Why does it have to be like this?" she sobbed. "He was always so shy, sweet…but now he does this." Her watery blue eyes gazed up at Vegeta in silent anguish. "What have I done wrong?"
What could he say?
He pressed her head back to his chest and gently stroked her back. "Nothing." Her stuttering breaths shook her whole body, so he steadied her. After some time, she cried herself to sleep in the warm glow he had instinctively provided her.
Careful not to wake her, he cradled her in his arms like a child and carried her upstairs and down the hallway to her bedroom. Thankfully, the covers were already pulled back, so Vegeta placed her on the bed and pulled the covers up. Then, he deftly removed the pins that held up her hair. The aqua locks tumbled down about her face becomingly and the faint scent of flowers hung in the air.
Vegeta stared for a second, until he shook himself back to reality. He snorted at her softly and left the room, shutting the door behind him.
The closing door woke Bulma. She sat up in bed and looked around slowly, trying to figure out how she got in her bed. Only one answer came to mind.
'Vegeta….'