Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Diary ❯ Chapter 1
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: LisaB 
A short Yamcha/Bulma breakup fic. Yes, it's my second one. I guess I'm going for the record.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Drama | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 10.14.2004 | Updated On: 08.06.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 3.8K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Completed
A short Yamcha/Bulma breakup fic. Yes, it's my second one. I guess I'm going for the record.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Drama | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 10.14.2004 | Updated On: 08.06.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 3.8K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Completed
DIARY
Disclaimer: No, I don’t own Dragonball Z. You’re shocked, I know.
Warnings: Songfic featuring a very old song. This got uglier than I expected so language and sexual images.
~~ means lyrics~~
************************************************************** ****************************
“Yamcha! What a surprise! Bulma didn’t say you were coming by today. She said you were out training in the desert.” Mrs. Briefs smiles at me and opens the door further to let me in.
“I know,” I say, “but three months in the desert is a long time. I decided to take a break and see my girl.”
“Well, isn’t that nice! I agree three months is too long for a young man to go without love!” Mrs. Briefs shuts the door and leads me into the kitchen. “Let me get you something to drink! I’m sure you’re thirsty after being in the desert!” She goes to the cabinet and gets out a glass, but I stop her before she can get to the refrigerator.
“That’s OK, Mrs. Briefs. I’m not thirsty. I didn’t come straight from the desert, you know.”
Her eyes open wide for moment, as if she never considered this possibility. “Oh,” she says. “Then let me get you a snack!”
I roll my eyes. “No snack, Mrs. Briefs. Is Bulma here?”
“No snack?” She looks supremely disappointed. “Yes, Bulma’s outside somewhere. She said something about enjoying the day and took her laptop and went.” She gestures vaguely toward the backyard.
“Thanks.” I head to the back door.
“Are you sure you don’t want---“ The door cuts off the end of Mrs. Briefs offer.
Yes, I’m sure I don’t want! Mrs. Briefs is a swell lady, but, man! She’s clueless sometimes. Thank goodness Bulma doesn’t take after her. Of course, if she had, we never would have met anyway. I try to picture a young Mrs. Briefs running around the world and falling into adventure. No, Bulma and I definitely never would have met.
I look around the huge field that the Briefs affectionately term “the backyard” and don’t see Bulma. I sigh. I told Mrs. Briefs that three months without Bulma was too long, but in reality three weeks is too long. I miss her when we’re not together. I was only gone three months because she didn’t think I was taking my training seriously enough. I was tired of hearing how Vegeta trained for twenty-four hours straight or Vegeta was asking for another gravity room upgrade. Compared to Vegeta, no one took training seriously. And look where it got him --- blown up and almost killed! I want to improve as much as the next guy, but death sort of brings any progress to a screeching halt. I wanted to prove to her that I did take the upcoming battle with the androids seriously though, so while she was building the new gravity machine, Puar and I headed to the desert.
And I trained. I even ran into Goku and Gohan, and we trained together some. It was sort of like old times, but Bulma wasn’t there. And I missed her. I wondered what she was doing. Was she missing me? I hoped so. I thought after I came back from Otherworld that maybe she was finally ready to step up our relationship. You know, take it to the next level. I’m not getting any younger and she’s not either, (but don’t tell her that!) and we’ve been dating for years. Most couples would be married by now. At first she seemed so happy to have me back, but then we fell into our usual pattern of bickering, and we were on again, off again. It was like a merry-go-round. I was hoping that maybe being gone might make her miss me again, make her remember that we need each other. That it’s time to settle down.
The wind ruffles my hair and blows the leaves around on the lawn. There’s a slight chill in the air; summer’s barely hanging on. My path leads me near the gravity room, which is mercifully silent and makes the day serene. Even the sound of traffic knows today is one of the last good days before winter and seems to hush itself in respect.
I finally find her laptop, sitting open under a tree. I look around.
“Bulma?”
She isn’t here. I wonder where she went. Maybe back to the house? I don’t know how we could have passed each other without seeing one another. I sit down under the tree to wait. She’ll be back. She won’t abandon her work for long.
I glance at the laptop to see what she’s working on. It’s not a spreadsheet or even one of those engineering programs that simulate structural loads. Must be a report. I look closer, hoping to glean a couple of useful facts to insert into the conversation when I ask her what she’s working on.
But it’s not a report . . . it’s personal. Holy shit! It’s a journal.
I tear my eyes away and glance around to see if anyone has seen me. There’s no one around, of course, but there’s something about snooping that makes you certain someone is hiding nearby, just waiting to leap out and scream, “gotcha!”
Bulma is still keeping a journal? She used to, when she was a lot younger; I remember the little pink books with the feeble lock and key she used to scribble in on our adventures. I got my head clobbered pretty good the first time I tried to sneak a peek. Years later, she had pulled one of them out and shared her teenage entries with me. “He’s a ‘bad guy’, but he’s kind of cute!” she’d written about me shortly after we met. I thought writing in diaries was a thing of the past, but Bulma apparently didn’t, and only the technology had changed.
I sit there a few moments more, wishing Bulma would come back but dreading that she’ll think I was snooping. I decide to close the laptop, but then I wonder if I’ll be ruining something she was working on. And she’ll know that she didn’t leave it that way and she’ll know that I closed it and the only reason I would close it was if I knew she was writing something personal and then she’ll know I was snooping.
What should I do? Get up and walk away? Hide and wait till she comes back and then act like I just got here? That would be the smart thing to do.
But the screen calls to me. Whether or not Bulma has missed me is probably typed on that screen right now. I could find out . . . everything. What she likes about me, what I should change, why she doesn’t seem to want to get married. Everything I need to know is inches away from my fingertips. I’d be a fool not to use it, right? How can I convince Bulma to marry me if I don’t know what’s stopping her? We could settle everything, have a spring wedding or maybe even a Christmas one.
~~I found her diary underneath a tree.and started reading about meThe words she's written took me by surpriseyou'd never read them in her eyes.They said that she had found the love she waited for.Wouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it.~~I’ve lost count of how many days he’s been gone. I’m furious with myself for missing him, but I know now that my feelings for him are not as superficial as I thought. After all this time, I finally realize what I’ve wanted has been right there beside me all along. It’s foolish, I know. These immature games I’ve been playing. How I could have denied the truth to myself this long is beyond me.
I think I’m sure of his feelings. He doesn’t say much on the subject, but when he kisses me I sense there’s more there than he’s letting on. I think perhaps he’s as uncertain of me as I am of him. There’s been so much bad between us, the fights, the horrible things I’ve said to him. It’s no wonder that we play our cards so close to the chest.
When he comes back, though, I’m going to tell him I love him. I’m going to show him that I’m not afraid anymore to be with him.
Holy Shit! It worked! My plan worked. She missed me; she knows what she wants now. I feel my chest expand again. I hadn’t even realized I had been holding my breath while I read the entry. I smile in relief. For all the times I wondered what the hell I was doing with her, for all the stupid games we played, the hang-ups, the slammed doors, for all that I was finally going to get what I’ve been waiting for. I thought she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen that day in the desert, and she still is.
And now she’s ready. Now she wants to be mine forever. How can she not know my feelings? I stopped asking about marriage because she told me not to, not because my feelings had changed. It doesn’t matter. Now I can ask her again and this time, this time I won’t be disappointed.
~~And as I go through my life, I will give to her my wifeall the sweet things that I can find.~~
I feel courageous now; I want to know more. I want to hear it all. I click on the entry above today, made three days before.
It’s so quiet without him here. I hadn’t realized how much I’d become attuned to his comings and goings, his demands. (Demands?) I feel like I’m just floating adrift in the current, waiting for him to pull me to shore. I hate this feeling. I don’t need him! I know I’ve said that before and gone back, but I refuse to be some dick-whipped girl who can’t do without a man. Sure the sex is mind-blowing, but it’s nothing to build a real relationship around.
Is it? No one has ever touched me like he does or if he did, it never felt the same. (What the fuck?) Why does he affect me so?
My mouth goes dry. What the hell is this?
I practically cum if he whispers in my ear. His control over my body is mesmerizing. The only thing I have to sustain me is that he seems just as affected by my touch, and that day in the shower convinced me I have a similar power over him.
I swallow and I my eyes blur. I blink away the tears, determined to know WHAT THE FUCK is going on.
It amazes me how such a short time ago I couldn’t stand to be around him. Since the accident, however, we seem to see each other differently, I don’t know how else to explain it.
No.
A part of me wishes he would never come back, so I could save myself from this pit I’m falling into, but I know that I’ll fall anyway. I’m helpless. And hopeless.
And only Vegeta can pull me back from the brink.
No.
No, no, no, NO!
I don’t even know I’m screaming. I toss the computer from my lap, standing. I look for something to hit, anything, and I pound the tree trunk beside me, throwing chunks of bark and splintering the wood.
“No, no, no, no!”
“Yamcha?”
I hear her voice and I look over. There she stands, looking beautiful and impossibly innocent.
“You!” I roar out. “You! How could you?” I pick up her laptop and hurl it across the yard. It lands a hundred yards away, breaking in two as it hits the ground. “And with him!”
She knows now, knows that I know. Her face wrenches in sadness and more than a little fear. I’ve never acted like this before.
But then, I’ve never been this angry.
“I’m sorry, Yamcha. It just happened---“
“Shut up! You just shut up! I don’t want to hear how it just ‘happened.’ I don’t want to know the details of your shower time or how much you melt when that bastard kisses you!”
I stomp over to her and look into her tear-streaked face. Ironically I notice that I told her to shut up and she did. I’ve never done that before. Suddenly, my chest swells with a power that I never knew I possessed.
“I came here hoping that you missed me. I came here hoping that you might finally realize what I meant to you. I came here hoping that you might agree to be my wife!
I walk around her, looking her up and down. She stands still as stone except for the tears streaming down her cheeks and the odd hitch in her breath as she cries.
“Instead I find you’ve been fucking Vegeta! Instead I find you’re head over heels in love with the biggest asshole in the universe!”
I’m crying openly now, but I don’t care. I hold my head and let one scream go. “Auuuggghh!”
Kami! That felt good. I scream again and again, releasing all my anger into my hoarse cries. Finally, there is nothing left, nothing but a great, deep sadness --- a hole in my heart where Bulma used to be.
She senses the break and decides to try again. “I’m so sorry, Yamcha. I never wanted to hurt you. I swear I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe me.”
“Then why did you do it? Why did you crawl in bed with that monster? Why did you---?“ I stop short as my mind fills with a horrible vision–Bulma on her knees before that Saiyan monster, giving him the blow job of his life while he pumps her face up and down on his cock. “Oh god,” I say, sickened and turn away, collapsing to the ground.
~~I found her diary underneath a tree.and started reading about me.The words began stick and tears to flow.Her meaning now was clear to see.The love she'd waited for was someone else not meWouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it.~~
I hear her move toward me, and I feel her hands on me. My first instinct is to turn away, but I find myself burying myself in her arms, weeping like a baby.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she says over and over, and all I can do is cry. She cradles me and lets me cry until I’m spent.
When I regain control of my emotions, I try to pull away, but she holds me firm.
“No, Yamcha,” she says, “you’re not leaving like this. You have to listen to me.” Her lips are on my ear and she speaks quickly because she knows she can’t hold me here unless I let her.
“I know I’ve hurt you; I know what I’ve done is wrong. But I swear to Kami that my heart is breaking right now. I hate this; I hate seeing you cry. I hate knowing that I’m the reason. But we’ve been together too long to lie about shit now, and I’m not going to lie to you. Vegeta and I . . . we just happened. One day it all just fell into place and made sense. I still don’t understand it. And it will probably blow up in my face big time for all I know.” She finally releases me to look into my face.
“But . . . I wouldn’t have hurt you unless I sure that there was something there for me. I’ve never felt about anyone like I do him. And when . . . it started . . . it all happened so fast. There was no time to think about what I was doing or how it was going to change everything between us. I’ve only now come to grips with the fact that I’m in love with him. For better or worse, I love the arrogant SOB. There are times I’m as disgusted by that fact as much as you. But I can’t deny it any longer. And when he gets back---“
“Where is he?”
“In space, training.’ She doesn’t meet my eyes. She’s much less certain about him than she letting on. “But when he gets back, I’m going to put my cards on the table. I’ve got to know where he stands.”
“And if his stand doesn’t include you?”
She laughed a harsh laugh. “Then I’ve just lost the best boyfriend a girl could have for nothing!” She sees I’m not laughing. “Best boyfriend” or not, I’m the loser in this round.
She cradles my cheek. “No, I should have let you go long before this. You’re too good for me, Yamcha. You give me too much without making me work for it. And I don’t deserve it. I’m bossy and vain and I yell too much---“
“Nah, you’re perfect,” I say and try to give her a rakish grin. I fail.
Fresh tears roll down her cheeks and she clutches me again. “You’re so sweet, Yamcha. You’re gonna make some lucky girl really happy one day. I wish I could be that girl, Yamcha, but I’m not her. Not anymore. Maybe once upon a time I was, but---” She pulls back and smiles a sad smile. “We’re all grown up now. We’ve got to . . . I’ve got to admit that what I thought I wanted isn’t what I wanted at all. It’s an angry, disagreeable alien with a very small chink in his armor, and I’m going to work my way into that chink and under his skin so deep he can’t let me go.”
There’s a spark of trademark Bulma Briefs boldness as she says this and my heart warms at seeing it. And strangely, there’s a part of me that cheers for her, and I know that if Bulma gets her way, Vegeta doesn’t stand a chance. I guess if Vegeta has to be taken down a peg, I would rather it be by Bulma than anyone else. Something lifts inside of me; I feel lighter than I did a few moments ago. I take her hand, and we pull ourselves up from the ground. We stand there a moment, looking at each other. Her smile is wistful. I have no idea what mine looks like.
“I’ll go,” I say.
“Don’t go,” she says. “Stay. Stay and tell me about your training.” She sees the hesitation in my eyes, the disbelief. “We can still be friends, right?”
Typical Bulma. It’s always about her. Even as I think this I can’t be angry. My life has been about her for so long that it’s only natural she should feel that way. And she’s right; we will still be friends. I can’t hate her, not when I love her so much.
“Sure, we’ll still be friends,” I say,” but not just yet.”
I drop her hands and turn to leave. The wind suddenly seems stronger, with a bite in it that wasn’t there before. I shove my hands in my pockets as I pass the broken laptop. If I’d known the day was going to change like this, I would have worn a jacket.
~~I found her diary underneath a tree.and started reading about me.The words began stick and tears to flow.Her meaning now was clear to see.The love she'd waited for was someone else not meWouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it.and as I go through my life, I will wish for her his wifeall the sweet things that she can findall the sweet things they can find~~
**********************************************************< br>
Song: Diary by Bread
Notes: I wrote this in one day (a record for me) and wanted to post it on the same day. I will never do that again because Ember found so many mistakes I’m now ashamed if anyone read it rather than proud. Thanks, Ember, for making me look good. I now know how lame I would appear without your eye for detail. *hugs*
Thanks and hugs to debbiechan for creative feedback. No one could ask for a more supportive writing buddy.
Please leave a review and let me know what you thought. Any feedback is appreciated.
Disclaimer: No, I don’t own Dragonball Z. You’re shocked, I know.
Warnings: Songfic featuring a very old song. This got uglier than I expected so language and sexual images.
~~ means lyrics~~
************************************************************** ****************************
“Yamcha! What a surprise! Bulma didn’t say you were coming by today. She said you were out training in the desert.” Mrs. Briefs smiles at me and opens the door further to let me in.
“I know,” I say, “but three months in the desert is a long time. I decided to take a break and see my girl.”
“Well, isn’t that nice! I agree three months is too long for a young man to go without love!” Mrs. Briefs shuts the door and leads me into the kitchen. “Let me get you something to drink! I’m sure you’re thirsty after being in the desert!” She goes to the cabinet and gets out a glass, but I stop her before she can get to the refrigerator.
“That’s OK, Mrs. Briefs. I’m not thirsty. I didn’t come straight from the desert, you know.”
Her eyes open wide for moment, as if she never considered this possibility. “Oh,” she says. “Then let me get you a snack!”
I roll my eyes. “No snack, Mrs. Briefs. Is Bulma here?”
“No snack?” She looks supremely disappointed. “Yes, Bulma’s outside somewhere. She said something about enjoying the day and took her laptop and went.” She gestures vaguely toward the backyard.
“Thanks.” I head to the back door.
“Are you sure you don’t want---“ The door cuts off the end of Mrs. Briefs offer.
Yes, I’m sure I don’t want! Mrs. Briefs is a swell lady, but, man! She’s clueless sometimes. Thank goodness Bulma doesn’t take after her. Of course, if she had, we never would have met anyway. I try to picture a young Mrs. Briefs running around the world and falling into adventure. No, Bulma and I definitely never would have met.
I look around the huge field that the Briefs affectionately term “the backyard” and don’t see Bulma. I sigh. I told Mrs. Briefs that three months without Bulma was too long, but in reality three weeks is too long. I miss her when we’re not together. I was only gone three months because she didn’t think I was taking my training seriously enough. I was tired of hearing how Vegeta trained for twenty-four hours straight or Vegeta was asking for another gravity room upgrade. Compared to Vegeta, no one took training seriously. And look where it got him --- blown up and almost killed! I want to improve as much as the next guy, but death sort of brings any progress to a screeching halt. I wanted to prove to her that I did take the upcoming battle with the androids seriously though, so while she was building the new gravity machine, Puar and I headed to the desert.
And I trained. I even ran into Goku and Gohan, and we trained together some. It was sort of like old times, but Bulma wasn’t there. And I missed her. I wondered what she was doing. Was she missing me? I hoped so. I thought after I came back from Otherworld that maybe she was finally ready to step up our relationship. You know, take it to the next level. I’m not getting any younger and she’s not either, (but don’t tell her that!) and we’ve been dating for years. Most couples would be married by now. At first she seemed so happy to have me back, but then we fell into our usual pattern of bickering, and we were on again, off again. It was like a merry-go-round. I was hoping that maybe being gone might make her miss me again, make her remember that we need each other. That it’s time to settle down.
The wind ruffles my hair and blows the leaves around on the lawn. There’s a slight chill in the air; summer’s barely hanging on. My path leads me near the gravity room, which is mercifully silent and makes the day serene. Even the sound of traffic knows today is one of the last good days before winter and seems to hush itself in respect.
I finally find her laptop, sitting open under a tree. I look around.
“Bulma?”
She isn’t here. I wonder where she went. Maybe back to the house? I don’t know how we could have passed each other without seeing one another. I sit down under the tree to wait. She’ll be back. She won’t abandon her work for long.
I glance at the laptop to see what she’s working on. It’s not a spreadsheet or even one of those engineering programs that simulate structural loads. Must be a report. I look closer, hoping to glean a couple of useful facts to insert into the conversation when I ask her what she’s working on.
But it’s not a report . . . it’s personal. Holy shit! It’s a journal.
I tear my eyes away and glance around to see if anyone has seen me. There’s no one around, of course, but there’s something about snooping that makes you certain someone is hiding nearby, just waiting to leap out and scream, “gotcha!”
Bulma is still keeping a journal? She used to, when she was a lot younger; I remember the little pink books with the feeble lock and key she used to scribble in on our adventures. I got my head clobbered pretty good the first time I tried to sneak a peek. Years later, she had pulled one of them out and shared her teenage entries with me. “He’s a ‘bad guy’, but he’s kind of cute!” she’d written about me shortly after we met. I thought writing in diaries was a thing of the past, but Bulma apparently didn’t, and only the technology had changed.
I sit there a few moments more, wishing Bulma would come back but dreading that she’ll think I was snooping. I decide to close the laptop, but then I wonder if I’ll be ruining something she was working on. And she’ll know that she didn’t leave it that way and she’ll know that I closed it and the only reason I would close it was if I knew she was writing something personal and then she’ll know I was snooping.
What should I do? Get up and walk away? Hide and wait till she comes back and then act like I just got here? That would be the smart thing to do.
But the screen calls to me. Whether or not Bulma has missed me is probably typed on that screen right now. I could find out . . . everything. What she likes about me, what I should change, why she doesn’t seem to want to get married. Everything I need to know is inches away from my fingertips. I’d be a fool not to use it, right? How can I convince Bulma to marry me if I don’t know what’s stopping her? We could settle everything, have a spring wedding or maybe even a Christmas one.
~~I found her diary underneath a tree.and started reading about meThe words she's written took me by surpriseyou'd never read them in her eyes.They said that she had found the love she waited for.Wouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it.~~I’ve lost count of how many days he’s been gone. I’m furious with myself for missing him, but I know now that my feelings for him are not as superficial as I thought. After all this time, I finally realize what I’ve wanted has been right there beside me all along. It’s foolish, I know. These immature games I’ve been playing. How I could have denied the truth to myself this long is beyond me.
I think I’m sure of his feelings. He doesn’t say much on the subject, but when he kisses me I sense there’s more there than he’s letting on. I think perhaps he’s as uncertain of me as I am of him. There’s been so much bad between us, the fights, the horrible things I’ve said to him. It’s no wonder that we play our cards so close to the chest.
When he comes back, though, I’m going to tell him I love him. I’m going to show him that I’m not afraid anymore to be with him.
Holy Shit! It worked! My plan worked. She missed me; she knows what she wants now. I feel my chest expand again. I hadn’t even realized I had been holding my breath while I read the entry. I smile in relief. For all the times I wondered what the hell I was doing with her, for all the stupid games we played, the hang-ups, the slammed doors, for all that I was finally going to get what I’ve been waiting for. I thought she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen that day in the desert, and she still is.
And now she’s ready. Now she wants to be mine forever. How can she not know my feelings? I stopped asking about marriage because she told me not to, not because my feelings had changed. It doesn’t matter. Now I can ask her again and this time, this time I won’t be disappointed.
~~And as I go through my life, I will give to her my wifeall the sweet things that I can find.~~
I feel courageous now; I want to know more. I want to hear it all. I click on the entry above today, made three days before.
It’s so quiet without him here. I hadn’t realized how much I’d become attuned to his comings and goings, his demands. (Demands?) I feel like I’m just floating adrift in the current, waiting for him to pull me to shore. I hate this feeling. I don’t need him! I know I’ve said that before and gone back, but I refuse to be some dick-whipped girl who can’t do without a man. Sure the sex is mind-blowing, but it’s nothing to build a real relationship around.
Is it? No one has ever touched me like he does or if he did, it never felt the same. (What the fuck?) Why does he affect me so?
My mouth goes dry. What the hell is this?
I practically cum if he whispers in my ear. His control over my body is mesmerizing. The only thing I have to sustain me is that he seems just as affected by my touch, and that day in the shower convinced me I have a similar power over him.
I swallow and I my eyes blur. I blink away the tears, determined to know WHAT THE FUCK is going on.
It amazes me how such a short time ago I couldn’t stand to be around him. Since the accident, however, we seem to see each other differently, I don’t know how else to explain it.
No.
A part of me wishes he would never come back, so I could save myself from this pit I’m falling into, but I know that I’ll fall anyway. I’m helpless. And hopeless.
And only Vegeta can pull me back from the brink.
No.
No, no, no, NO!
I don’t even know I’m screaming. I toss the computer from my lap, standing. I look for something to hit, anything, and I pound the tree trunk beside me, throwing chunks of bark and splintering the wood.
“No, no, no, no!”
“Yamcha?”
I hear her voice and I look over. There she stands, looking beautiful and impossibly innocent.
“You!” I roar out. “You! How could you?” I pick up her laptop and hurl it across the yard. It lands a hundred yards away, breaking in two as it hits the ground. “And with him!”
She knows now, knows that I know. Her face wrenches in sadness and more than a little fear. I’ve never acted like this before.
But then, I’ve never been this angry.
“I’m sorry, Yamcha. It just happened---“
“Shut up! You just shut up! I don’t want to hear how it just ‘happened.’ I don’t want to know the details of your shower time or how much you melt when that bastard kisses you!”
I stomp over to her and look into her tear-streaked face. Ironically I notice that I told her to shut up and she did. I’ve never done that before. Suddenly, my chest swells with a power that I never knew I possessed.
“I came here hoping that you missed me. I came here hoping that you might finally realize what I meant to you. I came here hoping that you might agree to be my wife!
I walk around her, looking her up and down. She stands still as stone except for the tears streaming down her cheeks and the odd hitch in her breath as she cries.
“Instead I find you’ve been fucking Vegeta! Instead I find you’re head over heels in love with the biggest asshole in the universe!”
I’m crying openly now, but I don’t care. I hold my head and let one scream go. “Auuuggghh!”
Kami! That felt good. I scream again and again, releasing all my anger into my hoarse cries. Finally, there is nothing left, nothing but a great, deep sadness --- a hole in my heart where Bulma used to be.
She senses the break and decides to try again. “I’m so sorry, Yamcha. I never wanted to hurt you. I swear I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe me.”
“Then why did you do it? Why did you crawl in bed with that monster? Why did you---?“ I stop short as my mind fills with a horrible vision–Bulma on her knees before that Saiyan monster, giving him the blow job of his life while he pumps her face up and down on his cock. “Oh god,” I say, sickened and turn away, collapsing to the ground.
~~I found her diary underneath a tree.and started reading about me.The words began stick and tears to flow.Her meaning now was clear to see.The love she'd waited for was someone else not meWouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it.~~
I hear her move toward me, and I feel her hands on me. My first instinct is to turn away, but I find myself burying myself in her arms, weeping like a baby.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she says over and over, and all I can do is cry. She cradles me and lets me cry until I’m spent.
When I regain control of my emotions, I try to pull away, but she holds me firm.
“No, Yamcha,” she says, “you’re not leaving like this. You have to listen to me.” Her lips are on my ear and she speaks quickly because she knows she can’t hold me here unless I let her.
“I know I’ve hurt you; I know what I’ve done is wrong. But I swear to Kami that my heart is breaking right now. I hate this; I hate seeing you cry. I hate knowing that I’m the reason. But we’ve been together too long to lie about shit now, and I’m not going to lie to you. Vegeta and I . . . we just happened. One day it all just fell into place and made sense. I still don’t understand it. And it will probably blow up in my face big time for all I know.” She finally releases me to look into my face.
“But . . . I wouldn’t have hurt you unless I sure that there was something there for me. I’ve never felt about anyone like I do him. And when . . . it started . . . it all happened so fast. There was no time to think about what I was doing or how it was going to change everything between us. I’ve only now come to grips with the fact that I’m in love with him. For better or worse, I love the arrogant SOB. There are times I’m as disgusted by that fact as much as you. But I can’t deny it any longer. And when he gets back---“
“Where is he?”
“In space, training.’ She doesn’t meet my eyes. She’s much less certain about him than she letting on. “But when he gets back, I’m going to put my cards on the table. I’ve got to know where he stands.”
“And if his stand doesn’t include you?”
She laughed a harsh laugh. “Then I’ve just lost the best boyfriend a girl could have for nothing!” She sees I’m not laughing. “Best boyfriend” or not, I’m the loser in this round.
She cradles my cheek. “No, I should have let you go long before this. You’re too good for me, Yamcha. You give me too much without making me work for it. And I don’t deserve it. I’m bossy and vain and I yell too much---“
“Nah, you’re perfect,” I say and try to give her a rakish grin. I fail.
Fresh tears roll down her cheeks and she clutches me again. “You’re so sweet, Yamcha. You’re gonna make some lucky girl really happy one day. I wish I could be that girl, Yamcha, but I’m not her. Not anymore. Maybe once upon a time I was, but---” She pulls back and smiles a sad smile. “We’re all grown up now. We’ve got to . . . I’ve got to admit that what I thought I wanted isn’t what I wanted at all. It’s an angry, disagreeable alien with a very small chink in his armor, and I’m going to work my way into that chink and under his skin so deep he can’t let me go.”
There’s a spark of trademark Bulma Briefs boldness as she says this and my heart warms at seeing it. And strangely, there’s a part of me that cheers for her, and I know that if Bulma gets her way, Vegeta doesn’t stand a chance. I guess if Vegeta has to be taken down a peg, I would rather it be by Bulma than anyone else. Something lifts inside of me; I feel lighter than I did a few moments ago. I take her hand, and we pull ourselves up from the ground. We stand there a moment, looking at each other. Her smile is wistful. I have no idea what mine looks like.
“I’ll go,” I say.
“Don’t go,” she says. “Stay. Stay and tell me about your training.” She sees the hesitation in my eyes, the disbelief. “We can still be friends, right?”
Typical Bulma. It’s always about her. Even as I think this I can’t be angry. My life has been about her for so long that it’s only natural she should feel that way. And she’s right; we will still be friends. I can’t hate her, not when I love her so much.
“Sure, we’ll still be friends,” I say,” but not just yet.”
I drop her hands and turn to leave. The wind suddenly seems stronger, with a bite in it that wasn’t there before. I shove my hands in my pockets as I pass the broken laptop. If I’d known the day was going to change like this, I would have worn a jacket.
~~I found her diary underneath a tree.and started reading about me.The words began stick and tears to flow.Her meaning now was clear to see.The love she'd waited for was someone else not meWouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it.and as I go through my life, I will wish for her his wifeall the sweet things that she can findall the sweet things they can find~~
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Song: Diary by Bread
Notes: I wrote this in one day (a record for me) and wanted to post it on the same day. I will never do that again because Ember found so many mistakes I’m now ashamed if anyone read it rather than proud. Thanks, Ember, for making me look good. I now know how lame I would appear without your eye for detail. *hugs*
Thanks and hugs to debbiechan for creative feedback. No one could ask for a more supportive writing buddy.
Please leave a review and let me know what you thought. Any feedback is appreciated.