He swallowed nervously, straightening his old gi. It was strange how the clothing still fit him perfectly, but made him feel so completely out of place. It fit his body, but it didn't match who he was anymore.

Yamcha shook those thoughts from his head. He would do what he had to do. To save the world, to save his relationship with Bulma. If they needed a hero, then that's who he would be.

That didn't stop him from parking his car off Capsule Corp. grounds, however. He could fly the rest of the way, just in case.

He gently cradled a bouquet of flowers (that he scored at a discount) through the short flight, arriving on the Capsule Corp. grounds like it was the good old days. Normally, he'd fly right on through to Bulma's bedroom, but he knew that would be entirely inappropriate now. He'd rather not be smacked with the nearest object before he could get any words out, after all.

So he settled for ringing the doorbell and waiting anxiously by the front door of the Briefs' home quarters, like a teenager sweating before his first date. Yamcha had been just like that, once before. Now he was kicking himself, wishing for once that he wasn't so comfortable around the ladies. Behind him, the gravity machine hummed loudly.

"Coming!" Mrs. Briefs called through the door. She opened it with a smile, but he sensed that something was different today. Her smile didn't seem as cheerful as usual. "Oh, hi Yamcha. What can I do for you?"

"H-hi, Mrs. Briefs," he started sheepishly. He scratched the back of his neck to calm his nerves. "I was wondering if Bulma was home."

"Well, she's home…" she trailed off, as if thinking. The blonde then further opened the door, having quickly come to whatever decision she was grappling with. "Have a seat, Yamcha, I'll let her know that you're here."

"Thanks so much, Mrs. Briefs!" He didn't mind sucking up a little bit if it helped smooth things over with Bulma. He sat down on the living room sofa, still clutching the flowers.

She disappeared down the hall that led to Bulma's room, and Yamcha took a deep breath. It was okay. Everything would be fine. Bulma wouldn't murder him in front of her mother, after all. Maybe he should've sprung for the roses…

"Hey."

He looked up and couldn't help but smile at his longtime love. She was as beautiful now as she was when he first laid eyes on her. Back then, it was definitely puppy love. She was the first girl he had ever felt comfortable talking to. She was one of his first true friends, besides Puar.

"Hey, B," he said, standing up to meet her.

She offered him a weak smile before sitting in a chair next to the sofa. He returned to his seat, following her lead. They were close enough that he could bump knees with her if he turned a little.

"I got you these." He stiffly handed the flowers over to her.

She nodded. "Ah. Poppies. A good choice."

He wasn't sure what she meant, but he smiled, hoping it was a good sign. "I…I'm here to say sorry, B."

She looked down at the floor. "I know you are."

"You deserve better than how I've been treating you. I've decided that I'm going to quit baseball and continue my training. I want to help defend the Earth." He felt woozy, almost like he could faint. This was difficult to get out. "I…I want to do better. I want to be better."

He watched her for any reaction. She was holding the red and orange flowers in her lap, still staring down at her feet, not meeting his eye. The flowers matched her dress perfectly. She looked like an angel, her blue hair falling down to her shoulders in waves.

Bulma finally met his gaze. She looked resolute. "Yamcha. You're probably one of my closest friends-"

Not a good start.

"-and I want you to know you mean the world to me…"

Uh oh.

"But I can't keep doing this. I just can't." She gripped the bouquet stem with determination. "We've been doing the same thing over and over again for years. It's just not working. I hate to say this…but I can't trust you anymore. At least not with my heart."

He inhaled, his brain scrambling to get some thoughts in order. She was so prepared for this break up.

"B, please. Is there anything I can do to make things alright?"

Her smile looked so fragile. "No, Yamcha. Not unless you have a time machine."

He cringed. He wasn't sure why he did the things he did. Why he felt the need to go after beautiful women when he had the world's most beautiful woman waiting for him.

Maybe it was the thrill of the chase. Maybe it was to prove to himself that someone out there actually wanted him, wanted to be with him. Maybe it helped soothe his insecure, boyish heart.

Maybe…

Maybe he was just a piece of shit.

He slowly exhaled, before reaching out for Bulma's hand. She didn't pull away. "For what it's worth, B…I'm really sorry."

She stared at him for what felt like forever, her eyes glistening. "I am too."

She pulled him in to a hug, and they sat there for a moment, awkwardly reaching across their seats, arms wrapping around each other. But in a way, it was perfect. A bit clumsy, but warm, and full of love. Like their relationship had been.

Yamcha felt tears pooling up in his eyes, and he blinked them away.

He really was the world's biggest fool.

—

Bulma walked him outside, still grasping at her flowers. She tucked her hair behind her ear as if unsure what to say before they parted.

Yamcha let himself drink her image in. Things were never going to be the same.

"Oh!" Bulma grimaced at him. "I wanted to apologize for what I did to your car…" She turned her head around, searching for it. "Didn't you drive here?"

He chuckled nervously. "I uh…I may have parked it a little out of reach, today."

She groaned. "I'm sorry!"

Yamcha shook his head. "I deserved it, and probably more, honestly…but hey, if you ever want to give baseball a shot, let me know. I hear the Taitans are still recruiting."

She playfully punched his arm, and they both laughed together. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad, after all.

A huge BOOM erupted from behind them. Yamcha instinctively pushed Bulma behind him, his eyes darting around for the source of the explosive sound. Their legs wobbled beneath them from the earth shaking below.

"The gravity machine!"

Before he could stop her, Bulma dashed away from him and towards the smoking debris of the gravity chamber, dropping her flowers on the ground. He followed close behind. "Vegeta!" They bolted across the grass to the remains of what used to be the gravity chamber.

"Where is he? Vegeta?" Bulma dropped to her knees. Panic made her voice waver.

She began delicately lifting chunks of rubble, sifting through the heavy concrete, desperation powering her.

Yamcha froze in place, his stomach lurching. Why…why was she practically hysterical right now? Was she going to feel responsible if it turns out Vegeta was dead under that wreckage?

He couldn't think straight, he didn't even offer to help as his mind flashed to dark, angry, jealous thoughts.

In all his years of being an absolute prick, flirting with other women, chasing them, fucking them, he never once thought that it was possible that Bulma would be unfaithful.

A resentful beast clawed out from inside his chest.

She liked him. She actually liked Vegeta.

It was all adding together, piling up and compounding in his mind.

Maybe she hadn't even realized it yet, but she liked him.

He remembered the feeling of Vegeta's thumb crushing his windpipe. He had been unable to do anything to stop him. He had been completely helpless, his life in his hands. Vegeta was too strong…just like how his little green beasts were too strong for him years ago…

And that monster was so quick to jump at his throat over Bulma. Did that alien bastard steal his girlfriend?!

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. No, she wasn't his girlfriend. Not anymore. He fucked up and let her slip away, and maybe without even knowing it, she was moving on.

Bulma screamed and fell backwards, knocking Yamcha to the ground as a hand flew out from beneath the rubble. Vegeta's hand was reaching out towards the sky like a zombie in an old horror movie.

Vegeta managed to pull himself out from beneath the crumbling stone, wavering from the damage. His body was bruised and bloody, his clothing torn apart.

"You…okay?" Bulma gently inquired. She was awkwardly perched on Yamcha's lap while they both remained suspended in place from the shock. How was he still alive?!

"Of course I am." Vegeta climbed out fully before collapsing.

"Oh no! You're hurt!" She rushed to his side, lifting him up like she was cradling a baby.

Yamcha gawked at them. He couldn't believe his eyes. Bulma was clutching Vegeta's bare chest, lecturing him about resting while the bastard insisted he was fine and didn't need help.

What bizzaro universe did Yamcha find himself in? How could this be happening? Wasn't this the evil son of a bitch who was responsible for his death? Didn't she remember that?!

"I take orders from no one!" Vegeta grumbled before fainting.

Bulma stared at his body, supporting the now silent Saiyan. Her head snapped back his way. "Yamcha! Help me take him to the hospital!"

Yamcha nodded, choosing to bite his tongue.

—

Hey everyone! Apologies for the delay in updating. I'm coming up on where I left off with writing this fic, so I am really trying to get back into the groove and keep up with writing. I wrote roughly 13 chapters in a week or two in a massive writing sprint...now I'm burned out haha!

But I wanted to say thank you SO much to everyone for the favs and comments. When I see the notifications, it inspires me to keep going. So thank you for being here, thanks for the kind words, and I hope you're enjoying the fic!