.::Twenty-Three::.

The glowing red numbers on Bulma's bedside clock read 2:24 A.M. With a groan of frustration she rolled over for what felt like the hundredth time, staring up at the ceiling. No matter how hard she tried, sleep continued to elude her.

The night before, wrapped securely in Vegeta's strong arms, she had slept better than she had in months. But tonight was a completely different story. Ever since Vegeta had left her abruptly in the pool room, her mind had been spinning with unanswered questions, unspoken emotions, and unresolved tension. The chaotic jumble of her thoughts refused to give her even a moment's peace, making restful sleep impossible.

With an irritated grunt, Bulma shoved the blankets off her body and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool floor. She sat there momentarily, rubbing her temples and willing herself to calm down. She couldn't stop replaying their last interaction, trying to decipher what she could have said differently to make him stay. The heaviness in her chest hadn't left her since that moment, and it showed no signs of fading anytime soon.

Deciding that a glass of cold water would help soothe her frazzled nerves, she pushed herself to her feet and walked across the room. As she passed the window, she noticed that the gravity chamber sat eerily quiet and empty in the backyard. She assumed Vegeta was fast asleep in his room, unbothered and completely oblivious to the turmoil he'd left in her. Lucky him. Bulma exhaled a sharp breath, shaking her head. If only she could be so unshaken by emotions like him. Bulma opened the door to her bedroom door and sighed deeply as she peeked out into the darkened hallway. She took the stairs softly in the silence, wrapping her arms around herself. As she reached the kitchen, the dim light from the moon spilled in through the windows, casting deep shadows over the room.

Bulma leaned against the counter, sipping on the water she poured herself. Her mind raced with distracting thoughts. She wished it could somehow quench the ache in her chest as easily as it did her thirst. After finishing a full glass of water, she indulged in a few bites of strawberry ice cream. Then, after placing the spoon in the sink, she returned to the stairs. When she reached her bedroom door and placed her hand on the knob, her brows furrowed as she faintly heard something.

Turning her head in the direction of Vegeta's room, curiosity gripped her, and she walked away from her door. Bulma padded quietly down the hall, her breath catching as she inched closer to his door. The deep rumble of Vegeta's voice became clearer, though she couldn't understand. Who was he talking to? Bulma's heart quickened, and without thinking, she leaned in, pressing her ear against the door.

Jealousy stabbed through her unexpectedly. The idea that Vegeta might have someone else in his room at this hour of the night made her chest tighten. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't any of her business, but logic didn't matter in the face of her burning curiosity. She had to know.

Then she heard him again, perfectly clear this time.

"No!" Vegeta's voice was rough.

The sound alone made Bulma flinch, but before she could move, his voice softened, breaking into something so raw it sent a shiver down her spine.

"I can't," he said, his words trembling with a sadness she had never heard from him before. "Not again."

Bulma's heart sank, and her breath caught in her throat as she stepped back from the door, her mind racing. Who was he talking to? And why did he sound so… broken? Unable to take it, Bulma opened the door to his room and stepped inside before realizing what she was doing. She wasn't prepared for what she found.

The room was dim, and Vegeta stood in the middle of the room with his back to her, completely alone. The bed was in complete disarray, sheets tangled, pillows tossed across the floor, as if he'd been thrashing in his sleep. But it was his right hand that captured her attention. A faint blue aura of ki swirled around it, pulsing and illuminating the room in an eerie, soft light. Bulma's breath hitched, her eyes widening.

"I don't want to," Vegeta whispered, his voice so quiet in the darkness.

Bulma's heart twisted. It sounded so unlike him—so vulnerable. Almost… childlike. And though she had practically burst into his room, Vegeta didn't even seem to notice her presence. He stood frozen, shoulders trembling slightly. That's when it hit her—he wasn't awake. He was sleepwalking.

"Don't make me do that again," he said, his voice cracking under the weight of an invisible burden. "Please, sir."

The words instantly made tears sting the corners of Bulma's eyes when she realized that he was crying. She clutched her chest as if to stop her heart from shattering at the sound of the pain in his voice.

"No!" Vegeta yelped suddenly, sounding anguished.

Then his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor. The glowing ki around his hand flickered once before vanishing completely, leaving the room in the moonlight. His body trembled violently, and his head hung low.

Without thinking, Bulma was at his side. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his trembling form against her. To her surprise, he didn't push her away. Instead, his arms encircled her, clutching her tightly as if she were the only thing anchoring him to reality. He buried his face in her chest, his shuddering breaths against her shirt as he cried.

Bulma's heart ached for him in a way she hadn't expected, and instinct took over. She began to gently run her fingers through his thick hair, whispering soft, soothing words in his ear.

"It's okay," she murmured. "You're safe now. I've got you. No one's going to hurt you."

He didn't respond, but his grip on her tightened, and after a while, his trembling slowly began to subside. Bulma continued to hold him close, cradling him as if trying to protect him from whatever ghosts haunted him in his sleep. She had never expected to see Vegeta like this. So broken and so… human.

As Vegeta held her close, Bulmas heart raced, pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from her chest. This moment was far from what she had envisioned when she stormed into his room. She had expected to find someone but only found him alone with the demons that haunted his mind. Her arms tightened around him protectively, and she kissed his temple softly, her lips brushing against his damp skin.

"It's okay," she whispered again, trying to soothe him while her own emotions were in turmoil.

Vegeta's grip on her was desperate, as if she was the only thing keeping him grounded. Then, gradually, his trembling subsided. His shoulders stopped shaking, and his breathing slowed until it seemed like he had drifted asleep. Bulma's fingers continued their gentle path through his hair.

But then, he shifted. Slowly, his head tilted upward as his dark eyes opened to meet hers. They were bloodshot and full of confusion.

"Bulma?" he rasped hoarsely, sounding exhausted.

Relief washed over her, and she offered him a reassuring smile. But before she could speak, his entire demeanor changed. Without warning, he pushed her away with such force that she was flung across the room, landing hard against the wall with a thud that knocked the air from her lungs.

"Get away from me!" Vegeta snarled, his voice sharp and venomous.

Dazed, Bulma sat up slowly, her body aching from the impact.

She raised a hand toward him, her words trembling as she tried to reach out to him. "Vegeta, it's me! It's Bulma!"

"I know who," he spat, his eyes narrowing with unrestrained fury. "A whore. A useless fucking whore! Now be gone from my sight!"

The words hit her like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs once again, not from the force this time, bur from sheer devastation. Her mind reeled as she tried to comprehend what he had just said.

"What…?" she whispered, her voice cracking.

"Get out!" Vegeta roared, his voice shaking the very air around them.

The items in the room began to vibrate violently, his power radiating in chaotic waves as his rage consumed him. Bulma froze as her heart broke with each word, and tears streamed freely down her face as she sat on her knees, staring at him with a mix of heartbreak and disbelief.

"Leave!" he bellowed, his voice rising to a deafening pitch. "I don't ever want to see you again!"

"Vegeta—" she tried, but his furious glare silenced her.

"GET OUT!" he screamed, the force of his voice unbearable.

While tears blurred her vision, Bulma slowly rose to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly, and her chest tightened with the pain of his rejection. She didn't say another word. There was nothing left to say. With one last heartbroken glance at him, she turned and walked out of his room, leaving behind the man who had just shattered her soul.

As the door clicked shut behind her, she leaned against it, her sobs muffled by her trembling hands. She wanted to hate him, to scream that she hated him for his cruelty. But deep down, Bulma knew that Vegeta's pain ran far deeper than she could understand. And knowing that he would never disclose anything about his life to her only made it hurt worse.

xXx

Vegeta hurled an energy blast at the remaining bots in the chamber, the fiery explosion illuminating the room in a blaze of light. He had been at it for hours; his body drenched in sweat as he pushed himself far beyond his limits. But no matter how hard he trained or how many bots he destroyed, the chaos in his mind refused to settle. His thoughts raced, tangled, and knotted like a storm he couldn't escape.

With a feral yell, Vegeta unleashed a barrage of blasts at the floating robots, his fury spilling over. The gravity chamber shook with the impact, and within seconds, every bot was reduced to dust and debris as they fell to the floor. His chest heaved, fists clenched as his aura crackled around him.

For a fleeting moment, Vegeta's instincts begged him to release one final, devastating blow and obliterate the chamber entirely. His hand twitched as energy pooled in his palm, but he stopped himself. Destroying the gravity chamber would be a foolish mistake, one he couldn't afford. This chamber was Dr. Brief's last one, and as much as Vegeta hated to admit it, he knew if he destroyed it, he would regret it later.

Vegeta then deactivated the gravity settings, collapsing onto the cold tiled floor. He lay sprawled out on his back, his chest rising and falling heavily. His dark eyes locked onto the ceiling, but as his vision blurred, unwelcome thoughts invaded his mind.

He scowled, willing Bulma's name and her face to leave his head. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, she lingered. The memory of her voice, her laughter, the soft touch of her hands clawed at him, refusing to be ignored. Never in his life had someone invaded his thoughts so thoroughly. It was maddening. She was only a human. Weak and fragile, and yet… she had somehow burrowed her way into his soul like an unshakeable parasite.

And what angered him the most was the bitter truth that he had allowed it. Vegeta had let her in. Something had shifted within him from their heated exchanges to the few times they had crossed the line into intimacy. He hadn't realized it at first, but now it was undeniable. Somewhere along the way, he had apparently grown attached to her.

He scoffed at himself, the sound bitter and humorless. He, the Prince of all Saiyans, attached to a human woman from Earth? It was absurd. Yet, as much as he hated the thought, he couldn't deny it. To his surprise, he found that he didn't despise her company anymore—not like he had when he first arrived at Capsule Corp. If anything, he found himself drawn to her more, craving her presence in ways that made him feel weak and pathetic.

Vegeta grunted, his muscles protesting after hours of strain under the relentless gravity. The ache in his body didn't truly bother him. It was familiar, welcome even, but his head ached in a way it never had. Vegeta clenched his fists as frustration coursed through him. He didn't know what to do with these feelings, this vulnerability that had no place in his life. All he knew was that the thought of her refused to leave his mind, and it made him want to scream. His mind churned relentlessly, a storm of confusion he couldn't seem to quiet.

Vegeta didn't know what to think or how to make sense of the unfamiliar emotions plaguing him. This was uncharted territory—something he had never faced before. He had always been sure of himself, his purpose, and his goals. Yet, ever since coming to Capsule Corp, everything had shifted, pulling him into a reality he hadn't anticipated.

For the first time in his life, he was free. Truly free. No longer bound by Frieza's iron grip, no longer tethered to orders or expectations beyond his own. He was his own man, beholden to no one. At first, the realization had been exhilarating. He had reveled in the freedom to make his own decisions without fear. For someone who had been a soldier his entire life, living under the constant weight of oppression, this new chapter had seemed like a gift. But like all things, this freedom came with a price. It wasn't long before cracks began to show. His nights had become torturous. Sleep, once a rare reprieve even under Frieza's rule, now eluded him entirely.

Hours stretched into eternity as he lay awake at night, staring into the darkness. And when exhaustion finally claimed him, his dreams were anything but restful. Most nights, nightmares seized him the moment his eyes closed, dragging him through twisted memories of the past. He would wake drenched in sweat, his heart pounding, and he felt more drained than before he'd laid down.

It was a maddeningly endless cycle, and to combat the restless nights, he'd thrown himself deeper into his training. The gravity chamber had become his sanctuary. He pushed himself harder than ever, turning the gravity up to punishing levels until his body screamed in protest, teetering on the edge of collapse. It was the only way he found to silence the demons in his mind. But no matter how hard he fought and how much he trained, the inner turmoil never entirely subsided.

And yet, something gnawed at him, an unsettling truth he refused to acknowledge. Because there was one night–just one–when he had actually slept. Really slept. The kind of deep, uninterrupted rest that left him feeling… whole. It was the night he had fallen asleep in Bulma's bed with her presence beside him. He could still remember the warmth of her body against his. The whole thing was infuriating. How could something so simple, so… human, have that effect on him?

Vegeta clenched his jaw as the thought took root. That couldn't be the reason, could it? Was his mind truly that weak? Was his resolve so fragile that a mere human woman could quiet the storm within him? He grunted, and his fists trembled as he slammed one down onto the tiled floor beneath him, the impact echoing through the empty chamber.

The idea was ridiculous. He didn't need anyone. He didn't need her. And yet, no matter how hard he tried to push the thought away, it lingered—haunting him, taunting him. Because deep down, Vegeta knew the truth.

And that truth scared him more than any nightmare ever could. This line of thinking was exactly why he needed to stay away from her. Bulma constantly disrupted his mind, and Vegeta despised how unpredictable he was whenever she was involved. She was the first variable in his life he couldn't seem to control. The first weakness he wasn't able to suppress.

His thoughts darkened as he recalled this morning. Waking up to find himself holding her had been a jarring experience. The realization that he had been sleepwalking again left him utterly mortified. And the fact that she'd witnessed it… Vegeta's cheeks flushed at the memory, and his jaw tightened in frustration. The nightmare he'd been having still clung to him like a shadow, but what worried him even more was the possibility that he might have spoken in his sleep.

He hated that thought. Vegeta had woken himself up before with his own restless mutterings, and the idea that he might have said something—anything—in her presence made his skin crawl. What if she'd heard? What if he'd given her even the slightest glimpse into the tormented corners of his mind? That vulnerability was unthinkable.

His hand curled into a fist as the nightmare resurfaced in his thoughts. Frieza. The tyrant's name alone was enough to send a ripple of tension through his body. The dream had dragged him back to those dark days. Vegeta swallowed hard, closing his eyes in an attempt to steady himself. He could almost feel the weight of Frieza's oppressive presence again, the suffocating power that had loomed over him for so many years.

The things he had endured under that monster were unspeakable. The commands, the humiliations, the constant reminders that his pride and strength meant nothing in the face of Frieza's tyranny. Vegeta had done what was demanded of him, yet the scars, both physical and mental, remained, even to this day. Back then, he prided himself on this resilience and his ability to endure, but now, sometimes, he wondered if that strength had come at the cost of his soul.

His eyes opened, and he sighed heavily, the weight of his past settling over him like a shroud. His emotions churned in a chaotic mess. His past haunted him, his present unsettled him, and his future remained a mystery. He wasn't used to this… thinking. He realized humans had a way of pulling everything out of a person, forcing them to confront things they'd rather keep buried. No wonder Kakarot was the way he was. These humans were like a disease, infecting everything they touched.

And yet, even as he thought it, Vegeta couldn't ignore the truth. The infection had already taken hold of him. Bulma had wormed her way into his life, and no matter how much he wanted to deny it, her presence brought him a strange sense of calm he hadn't ever felt. That scared him more than any nightmare.

With a low grunt, Vegeta pushed himself up from the ground, his muscles protesting after hours of strain under the relentless gravity. The ache in his body didn't bother him—it was familiar, even welcome—but his mind was another matter entirely. He didn't feel like being in here anymore. The fire that usually drove him, the hunger to push past his limits, had fizzled out, leaving only a restless agitation in its wake.

Dusting off his hands, he glanced at the empty chamber around him, the scorched remains of destroyed training bots scattered across the floor. For once, even the thrill of combat simulation hadn't been enough to silence the noise in his head. His jaw tightened as he turned toward the exit.

xXx

That evening, Bulma lay curled on her side, her body trembling with silent sobs as she wiped at the endless stream of tears spilling down her cheeks. Ever since Vegeta had kicked her out, she had locked herself in her room, refusing to face the world beyond her door. The memory of his glare burned in her mind; the sheer fury in his eyes had sliced through her, leaving a wound deeper than she had ever felt.

She knew, deep down, that Vegeta had lashed out in embarrassment. But that didn't make it any easier to stomach. The words he had thrown at her replayed in her mind, each time cutting her open like a flesh wound. It was a different kind of pain, one that settled deep in her bones, making her feel small and worthless. The kind of pain that shattered something inside her, leaving jagged edges where certainty had once been.

When her mother had barged in earlier, Bulma had barely reacted, too numb to summon any of her usual irritation. She had lied, mumbling something about it being that time of the month, and her mother, after some coaxing, had finally left. But she almost wished it was just cramps; at least then, the pain would be something physical, something explainable. Something she could treat with a pill and a heating pad instead of this hollow ache that no remedy could touch.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she hugged herself tightly, curling in on herself as another wave of sadness washed over her. The pressure of loneliness and hurt pressed down on her chest, squeezing until a muffled sob escaped. She turned her face into the pillow, trying to smother the sound, but the ache inside her refused to be silenced.

Then… the door creaked open.

Bulma stiffened, her breath caught in her throat. "I'm still not hungry, Mom," she muttered, her voice hoarse.

But the door clicked shut again, and soft, measured footsteps crossed the carpet. Her stomach dropped.

"Mom, I—" She cut herself off when the blanket lifted as someone settled in behind her on the bed.

Her breath hitched, and she immediately stopped crying when strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to him in a firm embrace. His heady scent filled her senses, and she froze, unable to process what was happening.

Vegeta…

Bulma's lips parted in shock, but she didn't dare say anything. She could feel his heart pounding, fast and erratic, against her spine. Without thinking, she reached up, gripping his arms tightly, anchoring herself to him in the here and now.

He didn't say a word, but his grip tightened on her when she touched him, almost desperate, it seemed. His breath was warm against her temple, his cheek resting against her head. They lay together in the quiet darkness, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. Slowly, her body relaxed, and the exhaustion in her bones started to pull her under.

And, as if lulled by the steady rhythm of each other's breathing, sleep finally found them both—deep, peaceful.