Bulma

The only reason why I got angry so suddenly was because I didn't want to think that you were right. I wanted to believe that Yamcha and I have something special going on. We've known each other for years. He always comes back to me after a break up, but you're right to question why I put up with him.

He's all I have. Even when I can't get a boyfriend, he's the only one that seems to want me. I truly believe he loves me, despite the fact he flirts with all these other women. I love him too…I think…And with love comes faith, and I have faith that our relationship will become better.

But why is there some sort of doubt in me? Even when you said those things, even when I agreed just a little bit, I couldn't let you know that. I mean, what do you know about love? I don't think I can stand the "I-told-you" looks. I defended myself to you, and I defended Yamcha. I can't let you know how bad that felt. I can't let you know that you were right, even if you don't know how deep or…shallow Yamcha and my relationship is…

It was the next morning that we collided again in the dining room. There was a smirk on your face. What the hell was that for?

"Anything from him?" you asked with mocking politeness. You sat on the chair, leaning your elbows on the dining table.

My eyes turned to slits. "No. But he will be back."

My mother entered the dining room with trays of food, placing on it on the table. "Good morning, sweeties!" she joyfully greeted. "And how are you this fine morning?!"

You humphed in response, stacking your plate with eggs, bacon, and others. I simply took a bite of toasted bread. I shrugged, showing my indifference, but deep down. I was hoping that Yamcha would show up or call or something, not because I missed him, but to prove to you that I was right; that he will return.

I vaguely heard my mother talking as I fell into deep thought. Yamcha is gone, and I don't necessarily miss him. Even if I know he'll only come back, I don't…really want him back. But at the same time…what will I do without him? He hardly made me happy when he's around, or like when he used to, but to not have him around completely seemed to upset me just a bit.

My mind is a mix of confused emotions and decisions. I don't know how to make up my mind about whether I truly want Yamcha, or not. And what is this growing attraction towards you? Yes, I admit to myself, I am attracted to you. But does that have anything to do with my relationship with Yamcha?

I believe a strong relationship built in years can't be penetrated by another that had only begun. But you seem to be living proof of my fault in believing that. Yamcha is right, I am paying attention to you more and more lately. I can't help but just want to be in your presence, that I feel like I could simply sit next to you, not say anything, but feel so happy.

But to love a killer like you is…is not supposed to be. I can't love a killer who has sworn to be better than my best friend by killing him. I can't love a killer who might actually destroy this place once Goku is defeated. I can't…

I looked at you across the table to see you looking at me. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing." You replied, and then continued eating.

But I didn't want nothing at the moment. I needed to know…I needed to know what was going to happen once the androids are dead. "Vegeta, what are you going to do once you kill the androids."

You smirked. "Defeat Kakkarot."

"And after that?"

You were silent. I could see in your eyes that you didn't know the answer to my question. "It's none of your business," you replied, and then started shoving food into your mouth with anger.

I looked at you with concern in my eyes. That question made you tense and angry, and I didn't even insult you. So what did I say to piss you off?

"You don't know, do you?"

You paused with your spoon in mid-air, your mouth open to receive the food. Slowly, you placed the spoon down and gazed into my eyes, stabbing my soul with your coal black dagger for eyes. I felt myself falling, the air sucked right out of me.

"I perfectly know what I'm going to do. And it has nothing to do with you." You said darkly. Something in your voice made me stop questioning further. You didn't know what that can't work too well. I didn't want to be questioned about Yamcha, you didn't want to be questioned about your future.

But something in me wanted to know what would become of you afterwards. Would you just go and leave? The very thought of you gone seemed to pain me, and I dread a future without you. I've grown used to you that to see you gone would make life, I believe, less interesting.

Vegeta

A day turned into three, and finally into a week and still no word from your man. Where is he now? Is he finally gone? Do you realize now that it was a stupid relationship? I told you so…I told you so…

I passed by you in the halls and noticed the fear in your eyes. You didn't seem to notice me, but your eyes were glued on one thing: the phone. Did you hope he would finally call? You said he'd be back in just two days. It's been a week. He's not calling. I watched you every passing day, a part of you seeming to be eaten away. Did you actually love him so much that you stressed like this? Why did you allow this to happen to yourself? Why can't you just move on?

Another week went by, and still no word. It's been two weeks. Are you still waiting by the phone? Are you still looking out your window?

Night time. The dark sky sparkles with jewelry as the moon light kissed the earth. It was a cool night, calm and silent. I liked nights like this. After a shower, I walked down the hall to reach my room when I noticed the light from your room was still on. I decided to check up on you. Maybe the curiosity in me wanted to see if you're the same. It's not like I care…

Making sure that my towel was tightly wrapped around my waist, I entered your room without knocking. I found you under your sheets, staring at the ceiling. You must have been thinking deeply of something because for a moment, you didn't seem to notice me. I cleared my throat, finally catching your attention.

You looked at me calmly, not at all angry for being in your room. You shook your head, answering my unspoken question. I nodded. I was about to leave the room when you slid to one side of your bed and patted the empty spot next to you. I suppose that was invitation to lay next to you.

"Are you drunk?" I asked first. You shook your head. Well, it wouldn't hurt, so I slid into the empty spot next to you, pulling the sheets over my legs as I sat up straight.

"Vegeta," you started to whisper, "Is something wrong with me?"

I didn't know how to answer. Yes, something is wrong with you. You're hurting over something that isn't worth your pain. Why are you doing this to yourself? "No."

"You sure? I mean, there has to be. Do I stink? Am I selfish? Am I…ugly?"

I found myself sinking into those sentimental emotions that I swore I would never experience. I'm falling into it so fast, I can't find myself anymore. I've lost myself in them as I inched closer to you, touching your hair. It was not in that huge cotton ball you had styled it into recently. No, you had just taken a shower and it lied around as it took the form of any surface it was on. As I held some parts of your hair, it simply slid passed my fingers like sand would. Very soft…

"No, you're not." I whispered softly. "You're not ugly at all."

"Then why," you cried in despair, "do I feel like I drove him away? If there's nothing wrong with me, why am I blaming myself for this pain I'm feeling?"

Suddenly, I bent down and crushed my lips into yours. It was a hard kiss at first, and you seemed surprise. But I just…wanted to feel your lips. I lifted my lips a bit, but you only reached for me.

I found myself drowning in this…this desire for you as I climbed over you, my towel long forgotten as it slipped away. As we kissed, my hands ran through your hair, caressing your face, your nape. It went where I wanted it to, and you didn't argue. You gave yourself to me. And although a voice in me told me to get back, I ignored it. I gave it my all, giving all I had, and taking all you had.

We made love for the first time.

Craving… the craving I've felt is suddenly gone. I've finally reached what I've been wanting for so long. I no longer feel…halved…I feel…hole. I feel like I've gotten what I've always wanted. Not sex, not kisses, not the words of passion you whispered into my ears…but you. Everything about you. You've belonged to me before this night. You've belonged to me even when you thought you were meant to be with Yamcha.

The distance stares at each other, the simple comfortable feeling in each other's company…they all make sense now. I've loved you before I even knew it.

As I held you in my arms, something bit at my mind. Something reminded me that love was going to bring me down. But what had just happened…made me only happy. How can feeling happy bring one down?