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Friends	By : ladyvegeets Category: Dragon Ball Z > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2134 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Obviously I don’t own DBZ or the characters - they belong to Akira Toriyama, Funimation and Toei Animation as far as I know. No profit is being made from this fic.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets
Ch.16 - Falling for…

Bulma ran in the direction Vegeta had taken and she tried to follow what looked to be a trampled path on the forest floor. She called out his name, praying that he hadn’t gone far as the dark night and thick underbrush made it nearly impossible for her to see where she was going.
“Vegeta!” she called, again and again. “Vegeta!”
Whether having grown irritated of her shouting or having come within hearing range, Vegeta finally replied. “Over here.”
Bulma worked her way through low hanging branches to find Vegeta sitting on a rock in a small clearing. Above them, peaking through the canopy, the moon was nearly full, providing just enough light for her to see him by. His bag was dumped on the ground and he was looking down at the ground, his face obscured in shadows. Bulma approached him, her hands on her arms to fight off the cold. She was shivering now that she away from the fire.
She walked up until she was in front of him, then sank to a spot on the ground opposite his stone. She sat, waiting patiently, shivering.
For a while they said nothing, the silence of the woods stretching between them. Finally, he spoke. “…Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Ask what?” she replied, hugging her knees to her chest for warmth.
He was still looking down. “If it’s true.”
Bulma squeezed her legs, still shivering. “Do you want to tell me?”
Vegeta looked up at her. His expression was guarded, carefully concealing his thoughts from her. She looked back at him, taking in his handsome features, his familiar scowl and stubbornly set jaw, trying to read him, waiting to see what he’d say in response.
When he didn’t answer, Bulma sighed. “Look, it doesn’t matter either way, Vegeta. I mean, honestly… If it’s true you were in a gang, it explains a lot. And if it’s not true, well, I’ve had it pegged for a while that your past wasn’t exactly a nice one, whatever that past might be, but it’s not my place to force you to tell me about it. But to answer your question, if you want to know whether it matters to me that you were in a gang, then the answer is no, it doesn’t.”
Vegeta was reading her face, and she could see him processing her words, weighing the truth of them. “Not ‘were’,” he finally said, looking away, his voice gruff.
Bulma blinked, her brows scrunching in puzzlement. “Pardon?”
He grimaced. “It’s not past tense. I’m still Icejin.” He paused, taking a breath, then let it out, steeling himself and fisting his hands. “That’s why my father and I moved here, we were ordered to. That’s who I was living with, why I didn’t want you coming around. That’s who beats me up. That’s who tried to run you over. That’s who has been controlling and ruining my life ever since I can remember,” he said, his voice rising with each sentence. He looked up at her, his expression raw. Bulma felt her gut clench at the sight of the rage and years of pent up emotion dancing in his eyes, like black fire, burning, consuming him. “The Icejin got my father years ago, and then they got me as a kid. Once you’re in you can’t get out unless it’s in a body bag,” Vegeta spat scathingly. “They’re the bane of my goddamn existence and the only reason I wake up in the morning is to see them dead one day by my hand!” he finished, his hands fisted so tightly they shook, his knuckles white, as if he could crush the Icejin in his very palms from his hatred alone.
Bulma sat still, shocked in the wake of his anger. She’d never seen Vegeta this upset before. This went beyond anger, this was a lifetime of loathing and wrath and pain all bundled up and expelled at once. It was terrifying. But it was the hatred in his eyes that scared her the most. She trembled to think of Vegeta growing up in such abusive circumstances, but more than that, she trembled to see the intent of murder in his eyes. Bulma reached out and placed her hands on top of his fists, trying to quell his fury. “But… if you kill them, they’ll send you to prison,” she whispered hesitantly, fearful for him.
Vegeta looked at her hands wrapped over his. He squeezed his fists one last time, then relaxed them, sighing, some of the intensity leaving him as he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt I’ll live through the experience anyway.”
It was the fatalistic way that he said it, the look in his eyes that sent a cold chill through her. Vegeta wasn’t speaking figuratively. He expected to die. Bulma felt her bottom lip tremble. “What?” she asked, disbelieving, refusing.
“Taking on the Icejin, it’s suicide,” Vegeta explained, his voice eerily calm, as if talking about the weather. “But if I can cause them even one tenth of the pain they’ve caused me and my father and take out their smug, insufferable leader, then it’ll be worth it. I can die laughing, with pride.”
Bulma stared at him, horrified. Was that really what Vegeta had planned for himself, vengeance, at the expense of his own life? Was that why he trained, day in and day out to get stronger? Is that why he never spoke about the future, or cared to make emotional connections, knowing that his time was ticking down faster than most?
“You can’t,” Bulma said, her voice breaking. “You can’t just throw your life away like that!” Her outcry caused Vegeta to look up, taking notice of her hurt expression. He frowned at the tears he saw shimmering in her eyes.
“What difference does it make?”
Bulma’s face turned furious even as tears slipped down her cheeks. “You jerk. It matters to me!” She choked out. She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to contain her panic. All this time she’d been so naive, never having guessed the extent of Vegeta’s circumstances or his motives. There was still so little she knew about him, but she would never get to know him better if he followed through with his suicidal plans. Bulma couldn’t handle it, the thought of Vegeta sacrificing himself for something so petty, the image of his broken body lying in a pool of his blood flashing before her eyes. It was too awful, too easy to imagine, she could see that now, that had been the path he’d been going down until she came along and butted into his life. Still, she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it anymore, without him constantly there, her broody bodyguard, teasing her, sneering at her, arguing with her about every little, meaningless thing and making her heart pound when he took her hand in his, or looked at her in that odd, intense way of his. Bulma felt words bubbling up inside her, and she couldn’t contain them any longer, they spilled out of her next to her tears.
“You can’t die. I love you,” she confessed, trying to pour all her feelings into those three little words.
Vegeta’s eyes widened, stunned by her revelation. Bulma watched as he wrestled with the ramifications of her confession, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face. It felt like her heart stopped, her gut twisting sickenly, waiting for him to respond.
Then, slowly, Vegeta thinned his mouth, his eyes growing pained. He pulled his hands back and turned his face away, shutting her out.
Bulma watched him withdraw, staring wide-eyed, disbelieving. Vegeta refused to look at her or acknowledge her words. That in itself was answer enough. Bulma brought her hands back to clutch at her chest, feeling her heart burst, shattering at his rejection. She lowered her face in her knees and started to weep. They sat there, he withdrawn, her crying, his silence condemning.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, barely audible. “I’m sorry you ever had to meet me.”
His words only made her cry harder, made her heart burn with fury as much as with grief. She couldn’t believe how cruel he was being. Bulma lifted her face and lashed out, striking at his chest, but he caught her hand and pulled her against him, hugging her tightly. Bulma struggled against him but for only a heartbeat before she collapsed weakly into his embrace and sobbed brokenly against his chest. She clutched at his top, devastated that he wouldn’t accept her love, and worse, that he wouldn’t accept his own feelings for her. She was sure he loved her, in some capacity, he’d even said he’d cared for her; her mind played out all the moments they’d shared together, their kisses, the looks, his kind actions, but now he was refusing to acknowledge any of that. She didn’t understand him. It just didn’t add up, and she hated him, hated that he was just going to give up on them, and on life, all for the sake of his vengeance.
“I changed my mind,” she said softly, brokenly, still sobbing. “I hate you.”
Vegeta gave a hollow, humorless laugh. “That’s more like it,” he agreed, his voice dripping with self-loathing. She weeped miserably while he rubbed the small of her back in gentle circles, comforting her even as she cursed him.
After several long minutes, Bulma started to calm down, crying herself out. She had her head resting on his chest, feeling numb and heartbroken, listening to the sound of his heart beat, shivering in the cold night air. She pressed herself closer against him, the ache in her back flaring up. “Keep doing that,” she told him softly.
“This?” he asked, indicating the circles he was rubbing on her back.
Bulma nodded.
“…Your back is really that sore?” he asked, sounding concerned. That he knew her back was sore at all only proved how much he’d been paying attention to her throughout the day. He cared enough to watch her, but not enough to live for her.
Bulma looked out into the dark night, nodding. “It’s cramps,” she explained. “From, you know… that time of the month.”
Vegeta’s hand paused. After he got over the shock of what she meant, he started rubbing her back again. “Hn.” She smiled weakly to herself. Guys were always so awkward about this sort of thing. “So that’s why you were more pathetic than usual today,” he commented finally.
Bulma huffed and elbowed him. “I’d like to see you have your abdominals squeeze your insides out each month and not feel some discomfort,” she snapped at him. He didn’t snap back, but the normalcy of their conversation was soothing. This was their norm, bickering about mundane stuff, and the familiarity of it helped to take her mind off everything else, so she explained further. “For me, during this time, standing up for long can hurt. And the cold makes it worse. Heat helps though, and your hand is warm.”
Vegeta said nothing. Bulma wondered what he was thinking, if he was grateful for the change of topic, or if he even cared. Then he stopped stroking her back. He gripped her tightly about the middle so that she wouldn’t fall as he leant forward, digging about in his bag with his free hand. He pulled out a blanket and shook it out before wrapping it around her, tucking the ends in snuggly about her. When she was warmly rugged up, he went back to rubbing the small of her back.
Bulma felt her lip tremble, dumbfounded by his tenderness. It was confusing, frustrating. He crushed her heart one moment, then cherished her the next. What was she to him? She pressed a hand to her face and felt herself begin to cry again, and she tried to be quiet even though she knew Vegeta could feel her hitching sobs.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before she stopped. Vegeta let her cry, just holding her, rubbing her back and sharing his warmth with her. When she’d been quiet for a while, Vegeta finally broke the silence. “Yamcha knew, didn’t he?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of aggravation. “That’s what he meant, back at the camp, right? About offering you his jacket?”
Bulma looked down, nodding. “I didn’t tell him,” she said, “he just put it together… He’s seen me go through this a lot.”
Vegeta’s body was tense beneath her. After a moment, he asked, “What else does he know about you that I don’t?”
Bulma was taken by surprise by the question. “Well… a lot, probably. We did date for a while, and we were friends before that.” Vegeta didn’t comment, but Bulma could tell from the tension in his body that he wasn’t happy by the news. Hesitantly, she added, “And it’s not like you and I really talk a lot…”
“I talk to you more than anyone,” he said defensively.
Bulma had to hold back a smile. “More like fight,” she pointed out, keeping her tone light. She secretly enjoyed their arguments, especially the ones she won, but if Vegeta tried to ‘talk’ to other people the way he did to her, then it explained why he was so bereft of friends. She was also amused that he was so concerned that he didn’t know her as well as Yamcha did. Why did he even care about that when he was planning on ending it all soon in some bloody gang battle?
Vegeta huffed, unhappy with the conversation. While he sulked, Bulma got an idea, and wondered if she could use his jealousy to her advantage, because she was damned if she was going to let Vegeta’s life amount to nothing more than a murder-suicide mission.
“Do you want to know more about me?” she carefully asked him.
Vegeta struggled to answer, but finally gritted out, “It’s irksome to think that moron knows more about you when I live with you.”
She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips. Vegeta was so childish sometimes. “Well, why don’t we make a deal?”
“I don’t like deals.”
“You’ll like this one. Either way, you win.”
“Hmf… What is it?”
Bulma gathered her thoughts before continuing. “Well, first of all. How much time until you can take on those guys?”
Vegeta’s hand stopped moving, surprised by her question. He didn’t have to ask who those guys were. “… A while,” he finally admitted, and she heard the frustration in his voice. So, the Icejin were strong. Good, that gave them time.
“Then I have a while yet to convince you not to throw your life away?” she said rather than asked.
“Bulma-”
“Shut up, Vegeta,” she cut him off firmly. “Just listen. Here’s the deal. When you’re not training, we can get to know each other better, and I can show you how good the world can be. I can show you that it’s worth staying alive for. All you have to do is give it a fair go. What do you have to lose? If I can’t convince you, you can still go off and needlessly die in glory like you want, OR, I change your mind and convince you it’s worth sticking around. See, either way, you get to choose. So, what do you think?” she finished, holding her breath nervously.
Vegeta sighed. “It sounds like you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”
Bulma tried to push away the helpless frustration that was building inside her, the fear that no matter what she did, she was going to lose him. She steeled herself against such thoughts. She hadn’t got this far in life by being a quitter. “Well you know what? It doesn’t matter what you say, because I’m going to try either way, whether you agree to it or not.”
Vegeta laughed softly, the sound of it heartbreakingly pleasant. “Yeah, I know… You’re almost as stubborn as I am.”
Bulma smiled sadly. She hated that he used almost, and hated that she agreed with him. But this time, this time she would have to win. She would have to out stubborn him. His life depended on it.
He held her and continued to rub her back. A cool breeze tugged at their hair. Vegeta raised his hand and brushed her locks from her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. “We should get you back to the fire, it’ll be warmer there.”
Bulma swallowed at his touch, and nodded, but she didn’t get up right away, reluctant to leave this moment of intimacy, even if it was bittersweet. But the thought of Piccolo returning and finding them missing from the campsite was the motivation she needed. She got up, hugging the blanket tightly around her. “Oh, and don’t worry about Yamcha. I’ll talk to him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t tell anyone else about your gang affiliation or get you expelled.”
Vegeta snorted. “I’d like to see him try. The Icejin are too smart to leave a paper trail, and the school isn’t going to expel me on rumors alone.” He stood up and looked at her, frowning. “Besides, the less you talk to that loser, the better.”
Bulma also frowned, the thought of Yamcha igniting her fury. “True.” Vegeta raised a brow, surprised she agreed with him for once about Yamcha. Bulma suddenly felt abashed for her words. “Well, anyway,” she said, changing the topic. “The first order of business is marshmallows.”
“…What?” He faltered, thrown by her statement.
“Marshmallows,” she insisted. “Have you ever roasted marshmallows over a fire before? That right there is a reason worth living for,” she explained, trying to force herself to sound cheery. Vegeta gave her a queer look. Bulma pressed on, dedicated to the topic now, trying to distract them from their previous conversations with something more lighthearted. “You know, I don’t even like marshmallows that much, but when they’re cooked over a fire and they’re all black and the skin comes off all melty, mmm! You have to try it!” she said, babbling under Vegeta’s heavy gaze. He was looking at her strangely, as if he saw something in her for the first time. It was unnerving and making her flustered. “Vegeta… You’re creeping me out.”
He blinked, snapping out of it his trance and looked away. “…Right.”
Bulma cocked a brow, bemused by his actions. “Okay, well… I’m just going to uh, see to nature before we head off.” She turned to go, but Vegeta grabbed her arm, stopping her. She turned to look at him, surprised. “What is it?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. He closed his mouth and frowned, struggling to find the right words. It wasn’t like him to be so tongue tied, he usually said exactly what was on his mind, or nothing at all. Bulma waited, but whatever Vegeta was trying to say he just couldn’t get it out. She finally put a hand over his and gave him an encouraging smile. “What is it, Vegeta? You can tell me anything.”
Vegeta looked at her hand, then at her, his face showing his frustration. He opened his mouth again but still couldn’t speak. He clenched his jaw, making a frustrated sound and let her arm go. “…Be careful,” he finally said, miserably, and dropped his gaze.
They both knew it’s not what he’d wanted to say.
Bulma smiled as though it was. She was curious, but whatever it was he’d wanted to say, he would have to tell her in his own time. She simply nodded and wandered off into the woods to find a private place to relieve herself before they returned to camp.
It was dark under the trees, the moonlight barely filtering through, the underbrush tugging at her blanket, nearly tripping her. She was just beginning to think she should have brought a flashlight when the ground suddenly dropped out from beneath her feet and she went tumbling through the air.
She screamed as she fell. There was a loud THWACK and pain exploded in her head.
And then there was darkness.

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

Nothingness. She floated somewhere that didn’t exist, adrift, alone.
She thought she heard someone call her name. It came from very far away, a galaxy away. She struggled to open her eyes. As they fluttered open she saw the most beautiful night sky, a million breathtaking stars glittering overhead. I’m in space she thought inanely to herself, and the notion was pleasing. Then there was a loud CRACK and WHISS and overhead a bright, red light shot into the sky and blossomed, like a never-ending firework hovering in the air. She tried to raise her head to get a better look at it, but she was overcome with pain so intense that she thought she was going to throw up. With a whimper, she passed out again.

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

She heard her name again. It sounded closer this time, drifting to her as if on a breeze. She tried to catch it, to float closer to the source.
“Bulma… Stay with me… Bulma…”
The words didn’t make sense to her, she didn’t understand. She could feel pain flaring as she drifted closer to the voice, so she started to shy from it, retreating back towards the silence, towards the cool darkness where her pain didn’t exist. The words chased after her like the fingers of ghosts.
“… -ulma, please… No, open your eyes… C’mon, wake up, Briefs… Please… You’re all I’ve got… I forbid you to leave… I forbid it, g-goddamn you… shit… sh-shit… d-don’t do this to me……”
The last thing she thought before she fell back into the darkness was that it sounded like Vegeta. But it couldn’t be him, because Vegeta didn’t cry.
Then darkness took her, and she thought no more.

~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~___X___~

A/N: ….
- 15
- 16
- 17
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