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Those Eyes	By : Kuro Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 6730 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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*Four Months Later*

Yamcha squatted by the toilet, his head hung over the bowl as he puked his guts out for the third time that day. His sides ached and begged for a reprieve, but his stomach didn�t want to agree. All he had was dry heaves now, but his stomach continued to spasm out of spite. He shivered; retching and wheezing until he finally vomited a long strand of acrid bile that made dark bubbles burst in front his e He He slammed down the toilet seat, resting his head on the lid as he flushed the toilet. He stood up shakily and limped over to the sink, splashing water on his face as he rinsed out of his mouth. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to clear the spots the danced and swam in front of his vision. Once the dots faded away, Yamcha raised his head up, catching sight of his ghastly reflection in the mirror. The dark rings that lay settled under his eyes stood out brazenly against his pallid skin, the pale light casting odd shadows across his concave cheeks.

It had been pretty much the same deal day in day out. He�d get up, puke his guts out, and then lie back down while he wallowed in self pity. He didn�t really leave the house much now, and this was causing people were to worry about him. Goku, Kuririn, and hell; even Bulma had been by to see if he was really okay. They hung out with him for a day or two, after which they would make up some excuse and depart, leaving him alone again. He wished they would at least be straight up with him and tell them that they were sick and tired of him rather than making up some petty story to get away. But he supposed it was all his fault they left anyway. He was unbearable to be around; he wasn�t afraid to acknowledge it. He would be all fine one moment, then snappy and indignant the next. Then, after he had calmed down, he would be curled up in a ball sobbing for no apparent reason. He was a few organs away from being a woman, for Kami-Sama�s sakes! It was his personality that repelled people.

Aside from his emotional rollercoaster, it was hell just trying to keep food down. But he had to attribute some of his sickness to his diet. He had been eating an awful lot of pancake batter and cookie dough. He was only feeding his cravings. He would have some sake too, but he didn�t feel like it for some reason. Drinking usually was a temporary solution to his problems but now, for some odd reason, even the mere thought of sake made him want to barf. For that reason Yamcha didn�t dare eat too much; only enough to sustain him so he wouldn�t be constantly sick. His cheeks were beginning to hollow, and his lack of nourishment was starting to show; he certainly was thinner. But to counter his weight loss, he did sit-ups and push-ups to keep up his muscles and to keep his mind off the �root problem�. Fear; fear, and stress.

It was the paranoia that was making him sick, he figured. He was so tired and terrified of Vegeta�s upcoming visit that he was beginning to break down both emotionally and physically. Vegeta hadn�t shown up once since his visit about four months ago, which was a pretty bad sign. Yamcha knew from experience that when Vegeta did decide to show up, he was in for the beating of his life. He dwelled on it and worried, making up several worst-case scenarios. But he would be willing to take anything Vegeta could throw at him. Anything would be better than being raped again. He had mass panic attacks and night terrors, waking up from horrible dreams in a cold sweat, after which he was not able to fall back asleep. Once or twice during the night he had to change the sheets on his bed; the nightmares were that bad. On top of that, he had come down with a nasty stomach bug about a month ago and it seemed to keep coming back; each time worse than before. He was spent. What he wouldn�t give for even just one peaceful night�s sleep.

He stumbled back into his bedroom and collapsed on the bed, his bloodshot eyes wide open. He wanted so badly to fall asleep; to just doze off, even if only for a moment. But he couldn�t. The moment he even closed his eyes, he saw the nightmares; the horrible, horrible dreams. He shivered, his stomach growling. Of course it wants food; I just puked my guts out, he thought. But he didn�t dare eat too much, lest he end up like he was just five minutes ago. But cooking and eating would keep him up, thus preventing sleep and keeping away the nightmares. He swung his legs around off the bed, standing up and stumbling off down the hall and across the living room. He went into the kitchen and rummaged around, pulling out a container of instant ramen. He popped it in the microwave and sat down at the table, fidgeting from side to side. He just felt so damn restless. He heaved a sigh and dropped down to the floor, propping his legs up on the chair with his knees bent. He kept his back flat against the floor and then slowly lifted up, bringing his chin up to his knees in a small sit up, although it was a bit challenging as he had developed a bit of a paunch. His utter lack of energy didn�t help much either. But it seemed odd to him that no matter how little he ate and how many sit-ups he did, his belly continued to grow in size. Again, it might just be a product of his diet of cookie dough, pancake batter, ramen, and the occasional tub of ice cream. But with all the running to the bathroom and such, it should at least be decreasing slightly... He grunted, forcing another sit-up out of his tired body just as the microwave beeped to signal his ramen was done. He rolled backwards and sprung to his feet in a ukemi. It wasn�t quite as graceful as he would have liked, though. He flipped up and stumbled back a few steps, flailing his arms to regain balance as he pushed his body forward rather ungainly, and finally over to the microwave. He opened up the microwave with a shaky hand and fished out his ramen. He dug out a fork from the drawer and broke into the container, chowing down on his noodles. He finished the small container of noodles in less than five minutes, regretting it the moment he was done. He suddenly felt very, very sick. It wasn�t his fault his damn stomach chose to reject everything he gave it. He threw away the container and as he was bent over the trashcan, felt lunch, or dinner really, coming back up. He retched heavily, the ramen following its container. He dropped to his knees, wheezing. He took a shaky breath and stood up, removing the trash bag. He cursed to himself as he stumbled through the kitchen. What time was it? Night? Day? He pushed open the front door, his eyes greeted by the bleak darkness and crisp wind. Night.

He sighed, forcing himself forward once again, taking the bag out to the dumpster on the curb. He groaned, feeling a second wave of ramen coming up. He leaned his head over the dumpster and puked into it until all he had was the same stubborn dry heaves he had just about fifteen minutes ago. He slumped down, leaning his back against tumpsumpster. He just wanted to die. He was so sick, so paranoid, so scared. He was depressed too, he always had been. But now he was being crushed. Everything was just too overwhelming. He cried, openly sobbing to himself and whatever night creatures were about. He forced himself up, drying his tears with the back of his pajama sleeve. He was so lost, so depressed and so confused that he did the only thing he could do; he went inside, pulled a tub of chocolate-chip cookie dough out of the freezer and curled up on the couch, numbly watching TV. He knew he was going to regret forcing down the entire gallon of ice cream come tomorrow morning, but for now, it was worth it.

*

He woke up next morning feeling surprisingly fine. But the minute his feet connected with the ground, het tht the full effects of last night�s snack. He took off running to the bathroom, his hand clamped over his mouth. He kicked open the bathroom door and kneeled down by the toilet, hurling forcefuintointo the bowl, getting a bit of back-spatter on his face. He shivered, flopping back against the cool linoleum floor. He stood up and ceremoniously washed off his face and while he was at it, got a long drink of water from the tap. He was snapped from his daze by the shrill ring of the phone. He tottered down the hall, picking up the phone in the living room by it�s third ring.

"Hello?" he uttered, still feeling semi-sick and tired.

"Hey. I�m having a bit of a get-together. I want you here."

It could only be one person. Who had get-togethers every once and awhile? Who had such a controlling demeanor? Bulma. He sighed heavily into the receiver.

"Yeah, okay." he said.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asked, suddenly sounding concerned. "I won�t force you to come."

"Nah, I�m okay, I guess. I�ve just had a nasty stomach bug. I feel loads better. You�ll see." he said, sounding forcibly happy.

He more or less trying to convince himself he was fine, and that everything would be okay. Even if he knew that was just a lie.

"Okay...just hurry over." she said, sounding slightly unnerved.

"Okay. Be there in a few." he said weakly.

He hung up the phone shakily and slumped down on the couch. He took a deep breath and stood up again, heading off to his room. He pulled off his pajamas, which reeked of stale vomit. He pulled on a pair of shorts and a white undershirt, tugging at it as he tried to pull it down over his belly. Gotta lay off the ice cream and start working mor more..., he thought to himself as he pulled on his slacks. He sucked in his gut as much as he could and buttoned it, pulling on a pair of socks next. He stalked down the hallway, taking long strides. He went into the kitchen taking his jacket off the back of a chair and pulling it on, grabbing his shoes and yanking them on right before he went out the door. He thought at first of taking his car, but then remembered his ever-growing gut and decided against it. He ran his fingers through his slightly messy hair and did a quick finger-comb. He broke into a jog, keeping his steady pace for the couple blocks he had to trek to get to Bulma�s. He felt a little queasy when he stopped, but shook it off as he entered Capsule Corp. The bright lights and loud noises instantly gave him a headache, but like the nausea, he pushed it away. Everyone seemed to be at the party. Yamcha scuttled away from the crowds and his off in a corner so he wouldn�t be bothered, but apparently, people just wanted nothing more than to harass him today. Tien walked over and leaned nst nst the wall next to Yamcha. He gave him a light pat on the stomach.

"You�re really letting yourself, go, huh?" he smirked.

Yamcha put on a fake grin and swiveled his head to face the triclops.

"Yeah, I know." he said weakly, still too tired and sick to make a proper smart-ass remark. He sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to block out the swirling strobe lights and loud music. Tien put a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked.

Yamcha opened his eyes and smiled weakly again.

"Uh-huh. I�ve just been sick for a while. I should be okay now that I have a goal to keep me motivated." he explained. Tien arched an eyebrow and Yamcha put a hand over his pudgy stomach. "I gotta work this off. Funny thing is that no matter how hard I try, it just gets bigger.&;"Get dressed, baka. You can�t sleep now. Don�t you think that they would think it was weird if you didn�t show back up at the party? Of course they would. Use what precious few brain cells you have!" he explained roughly as he pulled his own pants back up.

Yamcha pulled on his shorts and pants, looking timidly at Vegeta. The Oji was a scary man when he got angry. And making him angry was the last thing on his mind. He stood up shakily, the familiar ache once again searing his rear. He was in pain, but the horny urge had gone away. For now. He filed this in the back of his mind as the stupidest thing he had ever done. He would never, ever, ever do this again; no matter how horny he ever got. But why did he do this in the first place? Did it exceed need for release? Was he actually having feelings for Vegeta? He hoped not. Bad enough he was ass-raped by the saiyajin, he didn�t need to that to turn into a �first time� between a couple. He righted his clothes, preparing himself for return to the party. He pulled on his socks and slipped on his shoes, standing up slowly, trying to ignore the sharp pains that agonized his rump. He sorely limped downstairs, the Oji following silently behind him. He had to admit, it was sort of unsettling to have Vegeta walking behind him. He crept down the stairs and entered the party atmosphere unnoticed. Vegeta grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back.

"Now, you say nothing of what happened today or �that night,� do you understand me, human?" he whispered, his hot breath tickling Yamcha�s ear.

"H-hai." Yamcha choked.

"Good." Vegeta said. "Now get out of my sight."

Yamcha took haste, limping away.

****

((There�s chapter two. Yeah, I decided to upload it simultaneously with chapter one after all. Reviews are loved, as always. I think there has to be more YxV pairings, so look forward to seeing more popping up around the site courtesy of me! ^_^ Ja Ne! ))
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Those Eyes