Chapter 2: Admiration

The inside of the theater left Bulma in awe. The dim, golden lighting, the Italian art pieces that adorned the walls, the soft lull of the water from the angelic waterfall in the center of the room, all of it was intricately beautiful. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen the finer things in life, but they had never told a story like this.

A younger man, who spent an uncomfortable amount of time gazing at her lips, took her ticket and escorted her to her seat. She wondered if everyone received this sort of treatment, but brushed it off as human decency.

The seats around her taunted her sudden case of isolation. Between helping her father at their factory, being the girlfriend of a musician and still finding time to indulge in her own pleasures, friendship had become a luxury. Too bad. She was sure that the concert would be hard to get through, and a little gossip would surely pass the time.

"Bulma? Is that you? "

Her eyes looked up to meet a set of familiar ones, practically hidden behind long black bangs, and Bulma smiled with glee. She dramatically thanked whoever was above that dared to listen to her prayers, of all people.

"Chi Chi? Wow, haven't seen you in forever! "

"I know!" Chi Chi exclaimed, moving a tendril of hair that slept on her cheek to behind her ear. "Those college days sure were fun."

"Tell me about it, I'd do anything to be that carefree again."

"Come now, surely it isn't that bad for you? I read about you in the paper with your dad's new invention. That's so awesome that you guys are working on a smart home. And Yamcha was there too? You guys are still hanging in there, huh? "

"Yeah," she smiled sweetly, turning her head to the stage, "we're still making it. He's actually the reason why I'm here."

"Oh? Is he in the orchestra?"

"Mmhmm, second chair cello. "

"My, well go Yamcha! Glad to see he followed his dream there. Is anyone sitting next to you?"

"No, I'm the only one of Yamcha's family that was able to make it, so these seats are just open. "

"Well perfect then," Chi Chi removed her coat and draped it over her arm, smoothed out the lower part of her dress and sat down with a contented sigh.

"Oh, uh, sorry Chi Chi, but you can't sit here."

"And just why not?" Chi Chi met her gaze with the same fiery aura that had gotten them into trouble many times during university.

"Because this is reserved for the family of the musicians."

"Oh, is that all? I thought for a second you didn't want my company," Chi Chi chuckled and placed a well manicured nail under her chin. "It's a good thing my husband is the bass player."

"Husband? You got married?! "

"Sure did," Chi chi folded open her wallet as a plastic lined collage of family photos cascaded down, "and had a child to boot."

"Beautiful family," Bulma admired, and for a split second wondered what she and Yamcha would look like as a picturesque family. With children. Such thought may be best reserved for later.

"Thank you. I'm surprised you and Yamcha don't have at least a few little ones roaming about. After all, it has been about ten years since-"

Chi Chi's sentence was cut off as the lights in the theater dimmed down further, only a half of golden light encompassing the stage. Bulma released a breath that she didn't realize she was holding and relaxed. She was really getting sick of the "when are you and Yamcha going to… " talks.

The velvet red curtains rose from the floor, putting the occupants of the orchestra on display. From the effects of the lights, and her seating arrangement, they looked pristine. Golden. Men and women of substance and glory. She spotted Yamcha prepping his bow with resin, and she felt a glimmer of pride course through her belly. He looked regal sitting up there, as if he wasn't the same goofy Yamcha who refused to stop telling the same jokes since they were eighteen.

Next she spotted Chi Chi's husband, who seemed a bit uncomfortable in his suit. He kept tugging on the sleeves and loosening the collar, and his thick black hair looked desperate to break out of its slicked back style. He was a very muscular man, so it made sense that he felt bogged down by the suit. Nonetheless, it made her chuckle, and earned a questioning look from her friend.

The theater erupted in applause, and Bulma ceased her laughter to realize that the conductor was now approaching his pit. Her stomach dropped. That man in the alleyway, Vegeta N'Ouija, had sat and listened to her disrespect and insult him. And to make matters worse, she had basically told him that Yamcha didn't like him and complained about him regularly. God, just how bad had she screwed this up?

Vegeta reached his position and turned so that his side faced the crowd. His face was serious, stoic and downright mean. Bulma folded her arms, expecting for the music to be just as stiff as he was.

Vegeta raised his arm, ushering the orchestra to ready their instruments. Violas and violins were tucked under chins as bows were raised and placed on strings. The celloists sat a little taller, the lone base player stopped his fidgeting. Their mannerisms completely changed on cue, serious and determined and ready.

She noticed the tightness of Vegeta's jaw line relax, and if she blinked too fast she would've missed it, but it seemed like he even smiled. He circled his baton and the music began. The soft openings of the strings washed over the audience, captivating their attention. The crescendo's were brilliantly dramatic, the staccato of the strings cleverly adding to the beauty of the piece. Several audience members began discussing their favorite players in hushed whispers, and even Chi Chi had cheered her husband on for his brief bass solo. Everyone's attention was stuck on the marvelous orchestra and their ability to create such a beautiful sound with nothing but their hands.

Everyone's attention was on them, except for Bulma.

Her eyes would not pry themselves away from Vegeta. From the moment he brought his baton down to start the musical selection, it was as if he morphed into a different man. Gone was the asshole that she encountered in the alleyway, and in his place was someone more marvelous, more beautiful.

She watched the way that he paid attention to each part of the orchestra, how each section of instrument got his undivided attention, and yet no one was ever neglected. Everyone had direction, and all they had to do was glance up to his flicker of flamed hair to know how to get there. He moved his hands with purpose, with dignity. There was a sense of pride in the way he flicked his baton and emphasized the piece the way he saw fit. How could someone create something so beautiful, and by merely instructing?

In that brief moment, she willed him to look at her, point his eyes in her direction so that he could taste the admiration from her unmoving gaze. Had she ever laid eyes on such a man before? He commanded so much, and the rest of the orchestra followed without complaint. Trust. They trusted him. They proved it by pouring out their affection by way of musical note. It made her want to trust him, made her wonder if he was this beautiful in how he instructed every area of his life. Why did Yamcha hate him?

Yamcha. That's right. Her boyfriend was playing his heart out, playing for her to hear, and she disgraced him by thinking of another. And not just any other, but the man who stressed her poor, darling Yamcha out weekly. Was she so bad for getting lost in the music?

She dared herself to look at Vegeta again, and this time he was looking toward the audience. A smug smile stole his lips as he peered over the patrons. Then they stopped, in her direction. Her breath caught in her chest, and it seemed like a spotlight shone directly on the two. Vegeta waved his hand, gesturing the orchestra to get dramatically louder. Bulma watched him with sharp intensity, wondering if he was looking at her or just in the general direction. He smiled again, turning back to face his orchestra into the rest of the piece. The moment was over, if there was ever one to begin with.

Two hours. The concert lasted for two hours and Bulma felt incredibly guilty by the end of it. She still hadn't managed to stop paying attention to the very talented conductor with the handsome face, and her equally handsome boyfriend was right in front of her. What was her problem?

As soon as he circled his baton, signaling the final piece for the evening, his hardened face returned. Bulma felt as if she was slapped by reality as he transformed back into the same many from the alley. Perfect. He stiffly bowed as the curtains closed them off, creating a barrier between her and whatever the hell had transpired for the past two hours.

"That was amazing!" Chi chi exclaimed over her applause. "My Goku did such a good job!"

"Goku? Your husband, right?"

Chi chi nodded, her face beaming with pride. Bulma knew that look all too well. It was the look she had for Yamcha, even though he wasn't the focus of her attention. How terrible was she, to be thinking of another man? Even if it wasn't sexual, even if it was only pure admiration, she was still wrong, right?

"Come on!" Chi Chi broke through her thoughts as she slipped on her coat. "Let's go backstage and greet our guys! I don't know about Yamcha, but Goku spent days and nights preparing for this concert. I want to wish him a job well done and cook him some dinner. I'm sure the brute's famished. What about you? Does Yamcha know what you're doing?"

"W-What?" Bulma s heart raced as she considered Chi Chi's question. She hadn't been that obvious, had she?

"I mean when you get home? They'll be on break for three weeks before practice starts up again, I'm sure you have loads of things planned for you two."

"Oh." She breathed a small sigh of relief. "Just food and sex, Cheech. I'm sure that's what he'll want to do."

"Same old Yamcha," Chi Chi rolled her eyes and stood up. "Well let's make our way back so I can kiss my husband. And maybe I'll give that conductor a piece of my mind for making my poor Goku work so hard You should too, I'm sure he's been just on hard on Yamcha."

"Yeah." Bulma's mind raved as she gathered her , no she wasn't being inappropriate, she was simply admiring art in the musical form. She wasn't checking out his strong jawline, or the way that his suit fit the sharp muscles on his shoulders, swimming perfectly over his chiseled arms. She hadn't thought about if he was gifted in other areas of his life. NOO, absolutely not. He was talented and she was in awe.

And she would go to the back and kiss her boyfriend, and shower him with praise, and take him home later and fuck him until he begged her to stop.

And she would do so without the guilt trip, thank you very much.

A/N

Here's chapter two for you guys! Rate and review please!