Vegeta

Vegeta Ouji stared outside at them--the Earthlings--through his bedroom window; so happy, so oblivious of the real world. They had someone to run to when life got rough, someone to protect and teach and warn them about the world; he had no one and he hated it.

He was forced to grow up at age seven and they were still living ignorantly during their adolescence. He hated them because of it. Vegeta's parents died years ago when he was only seven-years old fighting a war against a cold tyrant, Frieza, and Frieza's father, King Cold, on his planet, Vegeta.

He was too young and he didn't know how to cope with all the strange, foreign emotions that wracked his body: sorrow, grief, despair, and hatred… love, and hurt… He didn't understand any of it; his father had raised him to be strong, fearless, dominative, and ruthless for seven years. The urge to fight ran strong in his powerful Saiyan blood; that's why he did it. And because of the pain, still the strange new emotions, he did not know how to fully control; he only knew how to control the emotions to a certain length. They drove him mad. Weak emotions, he told himself finally.

Then he saw her--Bulma Briefs-- with him, Yamcha Yurameshi… His blood began to boil as he watched them hug up close to one another intimately. Why was she with him when she knew she didn't feel anything more for him other than lust? Was she so scared of being alone that she clung to him so? Being alone wasn't such a painful thing; no one could hurt you, only the past and the memories…

He closed his eyes. Alone. That was familiarity to him, being and surviving alone. It hurt like hell though. Why did he think about her at all, or about why she was with her weak, crusty, confused, idiotic boyfriend? Why did he stare behind at her--if only for just a moment, why did she plague his mind, his dreams? What was so erratic about her? Maybe that long, beautiful blue hair that accentuated her incredibly beautiful blue eyes, and that not-so-normal attitude of hers and her face, to him, was beautiful. Not many other people thought so, but he did if only for a reason unknown.

I could show you-you could show me what it's like to feel to be in love, truly, bound together…

Damn. What is this that I'm feeling? Vegeta glared at himself tiredly and he closed the blinds letting the darkness consume his extremely spacious room. He grabbed the knife from his bed and cut down deeply into his flesh. Once for hurting, twice for lusting after something weak, for even wandering what it might be like to feel an emotion such as love, and thrice for letting those weak emotions ever happen. The dark, red blood spilled freely down his tanned, muscular arms. Pleasure filled him momentarily, but he knew it wouldn't last long so he cut again and again…

Extremely weird chapter; ignore me. I'm mindlessly writing and posting, people. Hopefully if I make it up to chapter five or six, then maybe I will finish a story and rewrite it too! Yes, yes!!! I'll be able to say that one day. Anyways, this is basically Vegeta but not really everything real to him at all. There's more emotion to him than I can ever describe but a lot that I can try to describe so bear with me. Peace up,

Shay