Concerto Eight: Embrace
oooOooo
"Alright, so one more crank in the amps and that should just about do it." Dr. Briefs ran his tongue over his top row of teeth, smiling with satisfaction. After spending the past several days perfecting a robot servant for the smart home, it seemed like he had finally struck gold. He stroked his chin as he eyed the blueprints on the table before him. "Bulma," he called to his daughter, "do me a favor and crank up the amps to 1500."
"Sure, Dad," she responded, her monotone voice soft against the hum of the robot's generator. Dr. Briefs waited patiently for her to turn the machine on; his mind running over various tests he could put the bot to once enough power was supplied to make it run efficiently. After several moments had passed with no startup, he looked up with impatience, only to find Bulma standing in the corner of the room and gazing out of the window, her face mimicking the gloomy day of the outside.
"Bulma," he said, his tone stern, "I'm waiting for you to crank the amp."
"Of course, Dad," she responded immediately, almost as if she was the bot that he needed to work on. Still, she made no movements away from her standing position, and he sighed and rubbed his forehead. She had been like this all day. She showed up an hour later than their agreed meet up time, and she walked around melancholy, her blue eyes swimming with sadness. At first he chalked it up to her possibly being tired, especially knowing she had gone out with Yamcha to dinner the night before, but it was unlike her to not get a spark under her butt this late in the afternoon.
He walked over to her, fumbling about in his pockets for his cigarettes, and stared off into the distance where she was looking. Some old billboard with a devilishly handsome man tossing a thumbs up greeted him, half of the worn paper ripped to shreds. He lit a cigarette, letting the smoke curl around his face.
"Your new boyfriend?" He nodded towards the billboard, his eyes resting on her cheek.
Finally she turned to him, her expression confused, before she saw what he was gesturing at. She looked back at the billboard and chuckled softly at the joke before her lips resumed their curved down frown.
"So are you going to talk to me about it, honey? Or do I need to play the guessing game like I do with your mother?"
She leaned closer to the glass of the spacious window, pressing her forehead against it but remained silent. He stared at her with iron patience, remembering how Bulma was as a teenager when something was bothering her. It would only be a matter of time before his little girl needed to talk to her father.
"Dad," she spoke as if on cue, her words as soft as the rain that pit pattered against the window pane, "what am I doing with my life?"
The words cut him, his eyebrow rising at the odd question, and he inhaled another puff of his nicotine poison, letting the answer coat his tongue. He reached into his pocket and grabbed another stick, handing it over to her. "Well, right now I think you're going to have a smoke with your old man."
She accepted it from him after staring at it for some time, as if the white paper would wrap around her fingers and bite them off, and then fumbled it flimsily between her lips, refusing to light it.
"Outside of that, Dad. What am I doing? I mean, working with you is fun and all, but what if I wake up one day and just regret it all?"
"Is this about the property, honey?"
"It's about everything," she sighed, turning her back against the window and leaning against it, rolling the cigarette in between her fingers now. She swallowed hard before continuing, "I just don't know what I'm doing anymore, or what my purpose even is, and that scares me."
"Bulma," Dr. Briefs placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder, looking at her with concern, "Where is this coming from? Come on and really talk to me about it."
She let out a deep breath and looked at him reluctantly, closing her eyes momentarily after finding home in his concerned blue irises. She found the words that were stuck in her throat, and she gathered them up with as much strength as she could muster before letting it spill out in a jumbled whisper: "Am I a coward, Dad?"
Dr. Briefs removed his hand from her shoulder, staring at her as if she had just told him that she was ill, and took a long breath, stroking his thick mustache. What had transpired, he wondered, that made her feel like this?
A sliver of irritation pooled in his belly as he remembered why she had decided to stop painting in the first place, and he felt his fatherly role possess him. "What did Yamcha say to you, Bulma? Do I need to talk with him?"
"No," she shook her head rapidly, her blue hair dancing across her cheeks, "Yamcha has nothing to do with this. I mean, he sort of does, but not why I asked you that question." She stopped and remembered Vegeta's words, her mind squeezing his criticism on her relationship with Yamcha with a weighted fist, and she sighed again. "Or maybe he does have a reason. I just don't know anymore, Dad. My brain is just completely foggy."
"Let's see here," Dr. Briefs placed a finger on his chin, looking dramatically up at the ceiling, "Brilliant? Check. Stunning like her mother? Double check. Witty? Stubborn? Independent? Talented? Creative? Check, check and check. But what do you know?" He removed his finger and looked down, making direct eye contact with her. "All of those things and I just can't seem to find cowardly anywhere on the list." He shrugged his shoulders and winked at her. "Maybe because it doesn't exist, Bulma."
She smiled lightly at him, folding her arms over her chest. "Thanks, Dad," she said with gratification, although his compliment did not really remedy the sting that Vegeta's words had wounded her with. She wasn't sure why she was letting him get to her, but here she was, soaking in her own self torment. Maybe it was her admiration for his astounding talent, or maybe it was the fact that somewhere she felt as if he had called her out on her own insecurity. Either way, Vegeta had touched a nerve that had paralyzed her happiness, and she was struggling on how to handle it.
"I don't know the full story here, but I trust you'll tell me exactly what's going on in due time. But I won't feel right unless I say this to you, so I'll just spit it out," he closed his eyes as he chewed over his words, letting them marinate in his mouth until he felt they were savory enough to say. "I think Yamcha is a nice man, honey. And even though you say he isn't the cause of you asking this question, I'm still bothered that you're not seeking him as a source to feel better."
Her eyes widened at the accusation, her mouth agape, but she couldn't find the words to respond. It seemed like her father was constantly throwing his opinion of Yamcha around these days, and Bulma wasn't entirely sure how much she should listen to him or not. "I know Yamcha can be…Yamcha," she said with a small cough, "but he isn't terrible, Dad. He's always there when I need him."
Dr. Briefs cleared his throat, turning to stare out of the window. "I remember when your mother was pregnant with you, and we were so excited. At the time, I had just taken on the position as president of Capsule Corps, and my schedule was pretty demanding. I was never home, and when I was, your mother was so tired that we barely spent any real time together. Anyway, I was out of town one weekend, and I was so caught up in this upcoming contest that our company was entering. We were flying out and I'm ashamed to say it, but your mother was the last thing on my mind." He looked down at his feet and let out a chuckle that was laced with regret, shaking his head. "We got to the hotel, and we're drinking and talking about how we were going to win because my invention was being showcased, when I got a phone call. It was your mother, and she sounded so upset. She didn't say anything other than a 'hello' and 'I love you', but when we got off the phone, I knew I had my priorities messed up. So I left that day, left the competition behind and everything just to go check on your mother. Turns out, all that was wrong was a mild case of heartburn." He laughed along with Bulma, and looked at his daughter squarely in the eye. "But she was so happy to see me, and it was then I learned the true power of sacrifice. My point is, when you love someone, and I mean truly love someone, they're there for you even when you don't have to say a word. Yamcha should know something is bothering you even without you having to say anything. And grueling rehearsal or not, the fact that he isn't here with you right now in your time of crisis says a lot to me. And the words aren't pretty, Bulma."
Bulma became uncomfortable as she listened to her father's lesson. She wanted to defend her long term boyfriend, call out her father by reminding him of the days when he adored Yamcha, and tell him he was wrong in his assessment. But as she stood there, studying the thick frames of her father's thick framed glasses, her mind could only marinate over one thing.
Just how right was Vegeta in his assessment?
The air around her became too thick, threatening to suffocate her with her jumbled thoughts. Now she had to deal with the stresses of Vegeta and Yamcha. Great.
She removed her body from the wall and gathered her purse, walking towards the exit. "I've got to get some fresh air, Dad. I'm going to grab some lunch."
Dr. Briefs put out his cigarette and walked back over to his workbench, cranking the amp on the way. "Just remember what I said, honey!" he called after her, watching her walk out the door and wondering when the day when his daughter that was alive with blue fire would return to him.
oooOooo
"Thanks for agreeing to lunch," Bulma salivated as her bowl of pasta was set in front of her by the waiter, and she wasted no time in twirling her fork around in the white sauce, "I really appreciate it, Chi Chi."
"No problem," the raven haired woman replied, digging into her breaded chicken breast, "thank you for picking a place where I could bring Gohan." She watched her son run around with a toy in his hand in the play center in front of them and smiled. "It sure feels good to be able to get out of the house for once. Being cooped up with Gohan all day and only seeing Goku at night sure wears down on the psyche, I'll tell you that much."
"Mmmm," Bulma responded through a mouthful of saucy noodles, savoring the flavor that waltzed over her taste buds. "I can only imagine."
Chi Chi threw her a dazzling smile, taking a sip of her water. "Well if I had to guess, I would assume that you won't have to imagine for too much longer," she wiggled her eyebrows, "I'm sure Yamcha is just itching to get settled with you."
Bulma had to swallow a sip of her own water to keep herself from choking, and she darted her eyes anywhere but on her friend's face. She nodded, dodging the question as subtly as she could. She was thankful that Chi Chi pressed no further into the matter, choosing instead to talk about her domesticated lifestyle. Bulma listened with a patient ear, trying her best to stay focused on the much needed distraction, but her attention kept getting submerged into her own thoughts.
Bulma knew that Vegeta had a reason to call out her relationship with Yamcha. She knew that her boyfriend could be mean in some of the things he said to her, but Yamcha had always been a part of Bulma's life, and she had practically grown with him. He had been there with every success, every failure, every trial and tribulation, and he had done so with a smile on his face as he supported her. But now, as she sat in a restaurant during lunch hour with Chi Chi's words ghosting in her ear, Bulma was beginning to wonder for the first time was it even enough. She was playing it safe, just like she was beginning to realize she was doing in every aspect of her life, and the thought jolted through her with a new reawakening.
"Gohan!" Chi Chi called out to her son, the toddler running over with a red nose and puffy cheeks as tears raced down his face, "What happened?" Chi Chi fussed with the boy, picking him up and putting him in her lap as she wiped his cheeks with a tissue.
"My toy!" Gohan pouted and pointed at the play area, and Bulma turned to see a red haired child playing with the toy that Gohan had previously occupied. "He took it!"
Chi Chi looked from her son to the other boy, running her fingers through Gohan's long, ink stained hair. "Don't cry, Gohan," she coaxed him, "You go over there and tell that boy to give it back to you."
Gohan shook his head frantically, clutching to the front of Chi Chi's purple dress. "No! You, mom! You!"
Chi Chi frowned and set the boy on the ground, placing her hand on her hips. "No, Gohan, you're a big boy now! Mommy wants you to be a strong young man, and that means standing up for yourself! Now go on over there and tell him to give it back to you!"
Bulma watched as Gohan wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and reluctantly walk over to the play area, occasionally looking back at his mother. He made a face and approached the boy, waving his hands in the air and pointing at the toy. The boy looked angry, snatching it away and holding it territorially close to his body, sticking his tongue out at Gohan. Chi Chi groaned as she studied the entire situation. "Come on, Gohan," she said lowly, "do it like your daddy and me taught you!" She glanced at the back of Bulmas head and smiled. "I know it may seem harsh, but Gohan has been dealing with bullies at the playground, and his dad and I want to make sure he learns to stand up for himself. It's hard for me to watch, but I don't want him to get so dependent on me." She sighed and averted her attention back to the matter at hand.
"No, no," Bulma replied, still watching the events unfold, "I completely understand."
Gohan was standing over the boy now, his fists clenching at his side, and Bulma could tell from the side that his cheeks were reddening with anger. She felt the table scoot as Chi Chi stood, unable to watch her son fail at this anymore. Before she could completely round the table, Gohan had snatched the toy back with a strong grip, yelling, "Mine!" as he pointed at the toy. The other child fell to the ground in a ball of tears, and Gohan pointed at him again, screaming, "No touch!"
Chi Chi sat back down, her eyes widening at her son's aggressive behavior, slightly chuckling. "Well, that's one way to do it, although I'm going to have to teach him how to do it a little more nicely." Gohan ran back to them, his small face stretched into a dazzling smile that rivaled his mother's, holding the toy out in front of her. "Look, mama!" He exclaimed, letting himself get scooped up by her.
"I see! I'm so proud of you!" She hugged him tightly and he giggled, waving the toy in front of Bulma now.
Bulma nodded, unable to stop the grin that stole her face. "I see, kiddo," she said, "you handled that kid pretty well!"
"He takes after his father in that way," Chi Chi sighed, shaking her head. "My little Gohan, finally standing up for himself. I don't agree with the mannerisms, but I guess sometimes you gotta be a little forceful to get your point across."
Bulma froze at Chi Chi's words, her eyes darting back and forth between mother and child. It was amazing, she decided in that instant, how she had learned a valuable lesson in the form of a four year old. She swallowed her water and motioned for the waiter to come to the table, bringing out her checkbook. "Chi Chi," she said hurriedly, "I'm so sorry to book on you like this, but I just remembered I have something to do. I'll treat you to lunch for this blubber of mine, and I promise I'll make it up to you."
"O…kay…?" Chi Chi watched in confusion, bouncing Gohan on her knee as she watched her friend order a to go box. "Is everything alright? You seem a little frantic."
"No, no it's not okay," Bulma said, handing over her credit card, "but I'm going to go fix that right now."
She stood and walked around the table, bending to pat Gohan on the head. "Thanks little guy," she beamed down at him, "You've just helped me out more than you realized."
Gohan giggled, leaning into his mother. "Welcome," he said, looking up at Chi Chi to be praised for his good manners.
Bulma collected her card when the food was paid for, grabbing her purse and leftovers, and rushed out of the restaurant, finally finding a solution to her current predicament.
oooOooo
Bulma was relieved that she had her epiphany around this time, knowing that Vegeta usually let the orchestra out for an hour lunch break. The theater was practically empty when she burst through the doors, but if he was anything like Yamcha had said, he would be locked away in his office.
She beelined to the door, her chest rising with every anxious breath she drew, her feet walking with much more confidence than she had earlier. She would have knocked on the door to be polite, but she wanted nothing to stand in the way of her new found mission.
So instead, she barged through the wooden door, finding Vegeta sitting at his desk and reading a letter. His eyes glossed over her wildly as she entered, her frizzy hair sticking to her lips. He hurriedly stuffed the letter in a drawer, his brows knitting together in anger.
"What the hell are you doing!?" He demanded, standing up from his chair as she marched over to him, slamming her hands on the top. "You can't just barge in my office like tha-"
"Shut up!" She said, feeling the need to clear her chest. Vegeta watched her madly, completely flabbergasted at her select words. "I have something to say to you and you need to listen!"
He didn't respond, although his eyes certainly had plenty to say as they drank her in, and she stood up straight so that she didn't lose her nerve. "What you said to me yesterday was uncalled for. Not only was it completely rude, it was not factual. You had no right to talk about me, or Yamcha for that matter, and you were completely out of line for calling me a coward! You don't know the first thing about me, or my relationship or my art, and I won't stand for you thinking it's okay to talk to me like that!"
Vegeta pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath. "Are you done?"
"And another thing!" She continued, ignoring him and feeling her stomach tingle as she let her feelings rage on, "I don't need you or anyone else criticizing what I have going on with Yamcha! Especially you! You're an arrogant prick of an asshole who walks around with a stick so far up his butt that I'm surprised you don't have a hemorrhoid!"
Vegeta growled, circling his desk as his eyes danced with danger. "Who the hell are you to—"
"And how the hell am I a coward, huh? Because I'm not like you? Because I don't waltz around here like I'm the second fucking coming of the arts?! I'll have you know that I chose to stop painting, and if you even had a shred of human decency, you would ask before you assume! Some of us have real problems, you know, and not just how to make sure that an instrument isn't going flat! You're a smug son of a bitch, you know that?"
"I'm only going to be insulted for so long before I -"
"And I don't care what you say, I would be flattered if someone admired me the way I admire you! The only reason I took time out of my day to see what the hell you were up to is because you are a terrible person with terrible mannerisms! Sorry, okay, for giving a damn about why you're so talented. I'm sorry that I invaded your privacy, but all I was trying to do was, oh I don't know, maybe make a friend!? Is that such a foreign concept to you!?"
"What the hell makes you think I need a friend!?"
"Why would anyone want to be completely alone!? Are you that much of an asswipe!? You think it's okay to call people out and make them feel like complete shit, but when someone calls you out, it's a problem? How about a tit for tat then, huh? I think you're miserable! I think you haven't been loved enough as a child and that's why you're so cold now!"
Vegeta grit his teeth as his jaw straightened, narrowing his eyes. "You've said what you had to say, Bulma, but now you're crossing a line."
"Oh, am I?" She pat her hand over her chest as she felt the fire circle around in her chest, remembering Chi Chi's words. "So it's perfectly fine when you cross a line with me, but when I do it to you, you're allowed to get upset? It's the truth! I would take total offense to you treating me like shit, but I saw the way you treated that girl outside of the antique shop! Poor woman, who knows how long she's been probably fighting for your affection!"
"What the hell are you on about!?" He looked around the room in disbelief, completely thrown off by her tantrum. "What girl?!"
"You know exactly who I'm talking about! You really are a shit head! You don't even want to acknowledge your own girlfriend!"
"You are crazy," Vegeta shook his head, laughing darkly, "I thought you might be a little out of it, but boy are you really sliding down the scale here."
"I'm not crazy, you're crazy!" She pointed an accusatory finger at him, feeling relief in letting out all of her irritation at the target source. A part of her felt like she should reserve some or Yamcha, but she was fired up and on a roll, and Vegeta was in the right place at the right time. "And I bet you if I talked to that girl, she would say the same! You talk about Yamcha, but why do you go around treating women this way!? What would your mother say!? Does she know how incredibly rude her son is!?"
Vegeta snarled, marching up to her with a fiery passion. "Don't you dare," he seethed through clenched teeth, "speak on her again."
Bulma struggled to catch her breath at the end of her tirade, matching the ice glare in his eyes with her own. It felt good to stand up for herself, she realized, and she understood Gohan's glee as he walked back to the table with his toy in his hand and victory in his pocket. "Did I hit a nerve?" She said with a mocking smile, "Get a little too personal for you? What? Is this the first time someone's hurt you? Well too bad! You can't just go around hurting people and not expect the same in return! My name is Karma today, Vegeta, and I'm ready to teach you a lesson!"
"You don't know what the hell I know about being hurt!" He shouted in her face, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "You're absolutely right! I don't know anything about you, and you don't know a damned thing about me! You march in here like a lunatic because you're upset with me for pointing out the truth!? For recognizing you have actual talent, and not some run of the mill 'get rich quick', Crayola on the fridge skill? You hide behind your own insecurity for what!? For him!?" He pointed out the door, indicating that he was speaking on Yamcha. "You have a gift to change the world and you'd rather play in the shadow of your father's glory!"
Bulma was taken aback, feeling her anger decrease as he…complimented her? She had no rebuttal as she let his words soak in her. "Vegeta, that's-"
"Oh no," he said, smiling manically, "you had your chance when you barged in here! And what was all of this for, huh? What did you come here for? An apology? Is that what you want?! Fine, Bulma! You can fucking have it so here goes!"
He turned away from her, his mood rolling off of him in waves and leaving Bulma in shock. She was the one supposed to have this shining moment in victory, but now she was wondering if she had went too far.
"I'm sorry for thinking you're better than that shit you pulled yesterday! I'm sorry for recognizing an actual talent and being disappointed in seeing it wasted! Here's my goddamned apology for looking at you allow yourself to get mistreated by someone you claim to have such a high affection for! What is it with you women, huh!?" His eyes were burning red and unsettled, and Bulma could have sworn that it appeared that they were growing wet. "You have all this incredible aptitudes and you waste them for a fucking asshole who wants to watch you destroy yourself! Tell me, does he control what you wear too?" He walked back to her so that he was in her face again, his stare livid. "Did he tell you that he didn't want you painting anymore? It's a disgrace! You could be living and enjoying your freedom, but instead you'd rather suffer the guilt of the 'what could have beens' while you waste away behind the charade of family! I'm disgusted because you could have done better, and now you're not even here anymore and it's all because of him!"
Bulma watched as Vegeta's face evened out, and as he backed away from her, she drew in a sharp breath of air. What had started out as a rant about her had manifested into something else, and Bulma knew that she was no longer the target of his pain. "Vegeta," she said quietly, walking slowly to him, "what or who are you talking about?"
His mouth flung open but no words came out, and he clicked his teeth and looked to the side, trying to compose himself. "Nothing," he said, his voice scratchy with emotion. He cleared his throat and tried to stop himself, but Bulma watched with awe as a lone tear threatened to escape his eye. He wiped it quickly, shutting his eyes tightly.
"It's not nothing," she whispered, stepping into his personal space. She didn't know what to say, feeling the moment was too tender to drown him with her questions. A small ounce of guilt pressed down in her stomach at the realization that maybe she had gone too far. And while she didn't doubt that Vegeta deserved her wrath, was he saying in his own way that he…cared?
He looked so broken, like a neglected pup in a litter, and Bulma was taken back to when she as a child, when she would feel so consumed with her unspoken emotions and how speaking about it was much worse than suffering in silence. And how in those moments, her mother or father would find her, caught up in a tornado of feelings, and would hug her in a wordless gesture that made her feel safe. Protected.
And so for those reasons, and for others she wasn't sure of, Bulma wrapped her arms around his shoulders and embraced him, the spiky tendrils of his flame styled hair tickling her cheeks.
He was warm, comfortably so, as she threw her body against his stiff frame, and was not surprised that he didn't move. What did surprise her, however, was how he allowed her to do it.
"I'm sorry, Vegeta," she whispered against him, "I didn't mean to push you like that."
He sniffled against her hair, and she felt even more horrible that she had made the great Vegeta N'Ouija cry. He moved his arms, and she just knew that he was going to push her off of him, but instead his thick arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in closer to him. She gasped in shock at his returned embrace, feeling herself grow hot at their proximity of his touch. His arms made her feel protected, even though she was the one that was supposed to be providing the comforting. What a strange day, she thought, that I ended up here?
She stroked her hands over his upper back and he squeezed her tighter, sighing against her cheek. In a voice smaller than a whisper, he mumbled against her cheek: "I'm sorry, Bulma."
Her eyes widened even further, as if it were even possible, and she pulled back from the close hug, although her hands were still thrown around his neck. She studied his face, looking for any trace of humor or anger in his words, but he looked at her like he meant it, his red rimmed eyes soaking her deep in the galaxy og his irises, making her feel like she was floating weightlessly.
The clock in his office ticked loudly as the silence surrounded them, matching her rapidly beating heart. He had apologized, actually apologized, and she was too frozen with astonishment to reply. Her eyes darted between his onyx ones, unable to formulate the words on how she felt. His arms were wrapped around her middle, hers covering his thick neck, his intense gaze speaking volumes into her that she was growing overwhelmed at. He looked at her like he had a question, and Bulma found her face leaning closer to his, the ticks of the clock ringing madly in her ears. Was it just her imagination, or was Vegeta's face also inching towards hers, the question in his eyes burning with an intense hunger?
The door to the theater slammed, jolting them both back to reality. Vegeta's hands unhooked behind her back, his face returning to the stoic expression that she had become familiar with, and he shook his head as if he had woken from a peaceful slumber.
"You need to go. Now," he demanded in a low tone, refusing to look at her as he rounded his desk. Bulma felt her stomach flutter lightly as she shook her head, unable to wrap her mind around what had just happened.
"That would be best," she whispered, grabbing her purse and turning to leave. Her hand lingered on the door knob as she stood there, trying to catch her breath. Yamcha, she remembered with shame, would be out there, and she was flustered by the events that had transpired in Vegeta's office. She looked at him from over her shoulder, finding him to be sitting sideways in his chair and staring at the wall, a vein throbbing in his forehead and neck. She turned back to open the door, stopping herself from asking any further questions.
As she exited the door and closed it behind her, she leaned against it, feeling the cool wood even through her black leather jacket, throwing her head back against it and sighing. She touched her lips, wondering just what would have happened if the orchestra wasn't returning. She was supposed to have felt better upon leaving, she was supposed to have had some solution to her worries.
But as Bulma stepped away from the door, she found a new weight in her shoulders and her belly, and her mind alive with more worrisome anxieties.
oooOooo
A/N
So here's a chapter because I'll probably be a little busy to post for a bit. Hope this makes up for it.
Thank you all for the lovely reviews! It makes me happy. :')
I wasn't going to address it, and I'm not going to spend too much time with it, but to the guest reviewer that left the review…you do realize this is a Vegebul fic, right? If you don't like Vegeta, or Bulma and Vegeta as a pairing, or if you are a big Yamcha lover and don't like to see him flawed, you're reading the wrong story. Me choosing as a writer to give my AU characters different personalities does not make me weak, and the people who enjoy this story are not stupid. Both remarks were incredibly rude tbh. A critique or criticism is not the same as being offensive, and I'm sorry but your review was offensive to myself and others who read this. If you want to PM me and talk about your feelings on the story, even if it's to say you don't enjoy it, that's fine! You're entitled to that! But there's a way to go about it, my friend, and I don't think that was the best way. I hope you'll enjoy what I have planned, since you said you'll continue to grace me with your presence, and if you don't, it's perfectly fine as well. I just had to get that off my chest, and I wish you a good day
Okay that's it and that's all! Thank you guys x's 10000000 for everything, and please R&R if you enjoyed this chapter! Talk you soon friends!
