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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
- 20
- 21
- 22
NB: There’s some brief suggestive themes in this chapter, but nothing I thought explicit enough to be censored, however if you disagree let me know and I’ll see about editing/censoring it.

Friends - an AU Vegebul Highschool Fanfic by LadyVegeets
Ch.21 - Confession

It was the best shower of her life. She and Vegeta stayed under the hot spray together, but cleaning each other up wasn’t their first priority, that honor went to making-out and lazily exploring each other’s bodies as hot rivulets of water ran over them, between them, coursing over her soft curves and his hard planes. There was no rush, they had all the time in the world to embrace and kiss and run their hands over each, so that when they were finally clean, Vegeta was hard again, pressing himself against her belly. The sight of his arousal was thrilling, and Bulma welcomed him when he pushed her against the shower wall and fucked her oh-so slowly, leisurely. The urgency from their previous session had been spent, and they could take their time just enjoying the sensations of him being inside her, thrusting, building up to their release.
Bulma came, trembling, gasping his name against the shower tiles, wanting nothing more than for this moment, this sensation to last forever. He held her hips as he spilt himself inside of her again, pressing his brow into her shoulder.
The clean up was incredibly easy.
It wasn’t until they were drying off that Bulma noticed the nail marks she’d left on Vegeta’s shoulders from their first session, red ugly scratches that looked painful raking down his skin. “Oh my god, Vegeta, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, feeling awful.
He looked confused until he caught her gaze and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He barely reacted, making a dismissive sound. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“Let me put something on it at least,” she insisted, reaching out, seeing she’d broken the skin in some places.
Vegeta grabbed her wrist and caught her eyes. He gave her a serious, but gentle look. “Bulma, it’s fine. This is nothing, trust me.” When he saw she still had doubts, he gave her a small smile, and pulled her in, hugging her, nuzzling her ear. “I promise,” he whispered, his voice soft and deeply reassuring. Bulma was helpless to argue with it.
Vegeta got changed and offered to heat up leftovers for dinner. Bulma agreed, exhausted, and barely made it to the couch before she fell asleep waiting for Vegeta to return from the kitchen. When she awoke, there was a blanket over her and a plate of cold food on the table. Vegeta was sitting on the floor by her couch, an empty plate next to him, his head drooped forward over his game boy, the screen showing ‘game over’. Bulma smiled at him, watching him sleep, her heart squeezing fondly.
She tried to sit up quietly, but Vegeta woke with a start and looked around, for a moment disorientated, clearly not having meant to fall asleep. Bulma picked up her plate and ate her food as Vegeta rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up.
“Why not go to bed?” she suggested.
“I need to train,” he grumbled, still half asleep. “If what Zarbon said was true…”
Bulma had to think for a minute before she remembered the school MMA matchup Zarbon had mentioned, supposedly happening this Friday. “Wait, you mean he’s a high-school student?” she asked, incredulous. Zarbon looked to be in his early twenties.
“Don’t get me started,” Vegeta spat. “He’s had to repeat, at least once that I know of. Whether on purpose or not is up for debate.”
Bulma watched Vegeta struggle to wake up, rubbing his face and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. She hesitated to ask her next question. “Do you think you can win?”
Vegeta paused in his actions, weighing her words. “…He’s always been better than me,” he finally admitted, his tone bitter.
Bulma put her food aside and sank down on the floor to sit by him. She put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “You’re a lot stronger now though. You’ve been training, and eating well, and working out in the best equipped gym in the city.”
Vegeta shook his head. “I need to get stronger. It’s not enough.”
“Where?” she asked, looking at him squarely “Show me.” He peeled his hands away from his face to meet her gaze, surprised by her question.
He raised his brows. “Show you what?”
“Where could you possibly get stronger?” Bulma insisted. She touched a finger to his brow, tapping his head. “Here? Because you’re the smartest person I know, after myself and my father of course, and equally as stubborn.” Vegeta frowned at her, but Bulma pressed on. She touched his bicep. “Here?” She touched his pec. “Or here?” Then she ran her finger to his abdomen. “Or maybe here? All I see, all I feel is pure muscle. Really Vegeta, you’re a goddamn terminator. Haven’t you noticed? You’re ripped, I mean, you always were, but you’re probably twice the size now than when you first started living here.”
Vegeta gave her a bemused look. Bulma’s eyes widened. “You really don’t know?” How could he not have noticed how much improvement he’d made? “Surely you’ve seen from your training?”
He huffed. “Well of course, I know I’m stronger, I’m lifting a lot more than what I could before, but I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
Bulma shook her head, amazed at his ignorance. “Haven’t you noticed your clothes fitting…” she trailed off, remembering that most of Vegeta’s clothes had always been too big to hide his beatings. He wouldn’t have noticed his clothes fitting differently since they never fit properly in the first place. He did have some fitted clothes, but they were mostly undershirts which could stretch. Surely there had to be something he had that would show how much he’d changed not only in strength, but in size. She frowned, thinking, then got an idea. “Oh! Where’s that black shirt you had on when you came over for brunch?”
His brows raised up. “Like I remember what I was wearing then!” he spluttered, irritated at her inane request.
Bulma rolled her eyes. “Well you certainly looked like you were making an effort to impress, so I just assumed it was something you might remember wearing.”
Vegeta looked away, blushing a little. “Oh, yeah, that…. Well, it’s the only dress shirt I had before moving here. It’s probably in the closet,” he replied.
“I’ll get it!” Bulma offered. She hoped up and ran off to Vegeta’s closet before he could protest. When she found the shirt in question, she came back and shoved it at him. “Go on, put it on.”
He gave her an odd look, but dragged himself up to his feet to comply. He pulled his shirt off from the back of the neck, and Bulma drank in the sight of his flat stomach and broad chest as he revealed it. She could look at him for days and never grow bored. Vegeta then took the offered shirt and tried to slip it on. He had trouble fitting his arms comfortably into the sleeves, and then couldn’t stretch the shirt closed over his broad chest.
“Tch, the dryer must have shrunk it,” he grunted, annoyed.
Bulma clucked her tongue at him. “I’m going to have to take back my statement about you being the next smartest person I know.”
Vegeta glared at her and tore the shirt off his body, throwing it to the side, annoyed with it. He stomped over to her mirror to get a good look at himself. He frowned at his reflection as he took himself in, eyeing his body coldly, his gaze calculating. Bulma knew Vegeta had always thought highly of his physique, so it was amazing to think he’d never noticed how much larger he’d grown. But she could see it now, his eyes assessing himself, allowing himself to criticize less, and preen more. He flexed his arm, watching his bicep bulge.
“If you keep doing that, I am not going to let you leave this room,” Bulma purred, admiring the view. Vegeta looked at her in the mirror’s reflection, smirking at her.
“Perhaps I should do my warm up routine here,” he offered, knowing how much she liked to watch him do push ups.
“Please,” she agreed, but to her disappointment he didn’t oblige, and she pouted.
Vegeta came over and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks. But I still have a ways to go. You don’t know Zarbon and these goons the way I do. Rest. Don’t wait up for me.”
Bulma sighed and watched in disappointment as Vegeta left, still topless, to go and train. Despite what he said, she still tried to wait up for him to come back, but the hour grew later and later, and Bulma eventually dragged herself to bed and fell asleep.

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

She woke in the night to warm hands running up her legs and a hot mouth kissing up her thighs. Bulma let out a languid sigh as Vegeta’s shadow loomed over her. She could smell soap in the air; he’d come to her fresh from a shower. He continued his sensual massage of her legs until at last he reached her panties. In one clean motion he pulled them down and off, tossing them aside. In the dark and still half asleep, Bulma didn’t feel ashamed to be stripped bare before her so carelessly. Her head arched back and she let out a moan as he grabbed her buttocks, lifting her hips up in his hands, her thighs falling apart. A moment later his hot breath was on her, teasing her center. She barely had time to process what he was about to do when she felt a warm, wet tongue slip between her lips.
Several mind blowing minutes later she came against his mouth, shuddering and trembling in ecstasy. He set her down and slipped inside her as she was still throbbing, and he moved in her deeply, his powerful body rocking over her until he came. Bulma writhed beneath him, too tired to bring herself over the edge for a fourth time, but their coupling still felt incredible, and she fell asleep contented in his arms, neither of them caring about the mess, exhausted and sated.
The next morning Bulma woke as fingers gently stroked her arms and hips. It was the nicest way to wake up, soothing hands against her skin. She hummed pleasantly and stretched, feeling something hard and now familiar prodding her from behind. She smirked. “Good morning?” she teasingly asked.
In response she heard a playful growl from Vegeta, and he bit her shoulder. Bulma shivered in pleasure, quickly warming up to the idea of morning sex. His hand moved around to grab her thigh and move her into a more agreeable position, but as he did his fingers touched a tender part of her flesh, and she flinched. “Oh, ow.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up in alarm to look at her. He sucked in a sharp breath. Bulma looked down and saw the damage. There were bruises everywhere, little ones, scattered all over her wrists and arms, her thighs and hips, all the places Vegeta had grabbed her and held her as they’d done fantastic things together.
Vegeta reeled when he saw what he’d done to her, his jaw clenching. “I hurt you,” he said, sounding distressed.
Surprised, Bulma looked up at him, seeing the pain and fury writ large across his face. She touched his arm reassuringly. “No, Vegeta. It barely hurts.”
“Not yet, maybe,” he replied, his tone telling her he was in the middle of mentally flagellating himself. His expression was vexed, his eyes wounded. Bulma had the feeling if she didn’t pull him out of his funk now, he would continue to stew over this for days.
She pulled on him and he reluctantly let her drag him down. Bulma cuddled up close against him, burying her face against his chest. “They’re good bruises,” she said, unconcerned by her injuries. She wasn’t lying. The bruises really didn’t hurt unless they were pressed on, and they only reminded her of what she and Vegeta had done together, which were very pleasant memories to be reminded of. “Very good bruises,” she stressed. “Badges of honor,” she added as an afterthought, remembering what Vegeta had told her after she’d fallen down the cliff and been hideously bruised.
She felt him gradually relax, the tension leaving him as he eased against her. He wrapped her up against him, and started stroking her back. “I wasn’t even thinking about… I just got caught up in… Fuck, you’re so pathetically frail.”
“I think you mean ‘delicate’,” she tried to correct.
“Tch…” Vegeta grouched. “… I can’t believe you aren’t horrified. Most girls would be running the other way.”
“Mm. Good thing I’m not most girls,” Bulma hummed, unconcerned.
“I noticed,” he replied wryly.
Bulma wriggled closer against him. “That had better be a compliment.”
“It was,” he said, and she could hear the hint of amusement in his voice. Good, she was winning him over.
“Besides,” she said, refocusing the conversation, pushing herself against him and purring in his ear. “Did it sound like any of these bruises hurt while you were giving them to me?”
She sneaked a look at him, and could see he started to smile. His fingers were trailing over a bruise, and when she didn’t flinch, he looked appeased. “No,” he admitted ruefully.
Bulma smiled, victorious. “See? Although perhaps you should give me a few more, just so you’re satisfied,” she grinned, trailing her hand down his front, watching the way his nipples hardened as her fingers B-lined towards his groin.
“Bruises are not what’s going to satisfy me,” he replied, his voice getting lower, his eyes narrowing over a smirk.
“Oh?” she asked, swirling her finger at the base of him, watching him swell and thicken at the promise of her touch.
Vegeta settled his arms behind his head, getting comfortable, his eyes falling closed. “No. That would take some pretty little thing whose rug really does match her drapes.”
Bulma reeled back, giving Vegeta an appalled look. He opened his eyes to smirk at her evilly.
“You creep!” She shouted, grabbing up the blankets to cover herself even as her cheeks grew red in anger and embarrassment.
Vegeta burst into laughter. The sound erupted from him, filling the room, utterly disarming, light and carefree. It stunned her for a moment, but she quickly recovered and gave his chest a small thump with her fist, which only made him laugh harder. Bulma pouted, mostly because she was having trouble staying angry at him when he sounded so genuinely amused. Vegeta laughing was so rare; smirking, yes, a barked laugh, sometimes, but this, rolling on his side and gasping for air? Unheard of. Bulma fought back her own amusement and tried to pretend she was still upset. “Jerk.”
“Maybe,” he agreed amiably when he caught his breath, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. He grinned and reached out, pulling her down into his arms, and she gave up on being ‘mad’ to snuggle him.
They cuddled a while longer until their stomachs got the best of them. Bulma cooked them a large breakfast which they shared, but afterwards Vegeta left her to train.
The following school week proved… interesting, to say the least. Bulma wore a scarf to school to keep the nasty hickey Vegeta had given her covered, although the moment Chi-Chi saw the scarf, the dark haired girl gave Bulma a very knowing smirk and made loud remarks about it every chance she got. If that weren’t bad enough, Bulma could hardly stay focused in class, her thoughts often drifting to Vegeta, even when he wasn’t with her. It was worse when he was. He only had to look at her a certain way, a dark, mischievous glint in his eye, raking his gaze over her in a knowing fashion as though deciding which of many ways he was going to have her, and Bulma found herself instantly wishing for the home bell, and a dry pair of underwear.
They made it two days of school, two days of barely making it home before ripping each other’s clothes off to have at each other, before they couldn’t wait to get home any longer. The catalyst was a text message. Vegeta had been riling her up in advanced class all morning, stretching more than was necessary in his seat, his muscles flexing appealingly under a fitted t-shirt, shooting her sly glances from the corner of his eye, knowing she watched him instead of the teacher. She could have let it go at that, but then his hand dropped down, hanging below his desk. Bulma watched with rapt curiosity as Vegeta made a strange gesture, two fingers pointed up, pushing up, and then stretching out… Bulma’s face went bright red when she realized what he was insinuating, and she had to clamp her thighs together as if to protect herself from his gesture. Oh, that was it, she was determined to get him back. When she was able, Bulma texted him a very suggestive message, something about being hungry and unable to wait to put something hot and creamy in her mouth to roll her tongue all over. She wasn’t terribly surprised when Vegeta abducted her at the lunch break, pulling her into the PE shed to have his way with her against the dusty gym mats. First the movie theater, now this. Bulma had never considered herself the kind of girl to do such lewd things in public places, but when it came to Vegeta she just didn’t care. She just needed to be with him, needed him to be in her, and despite their brazen acts she knew that with him, whatever they did, wherever they did it, it was more than just a cheap fuck. Although he never returned her sentiment verbally, Bulma often confessed her love for him as they writhed together, tangled up all sweaty in each other, and Vegeta let her confess without ridicule. She knew it was as much of an acceptance from him as she was going to get, and the tender way he held her after and nuzzled her told her all she needed to know.
When they weren’t at school or fooling around, Vegeta was training for the match on Friday that Piccolo had confirmed was happening. Bulma would catch Vegeta checking out his reflection over the course of the week, and each time he did so, he looked a little more confident, starting to think he might have a chance against his old tormentor. No one else but Bulma and Vegeta knew the importance of this fight - Vegeta’s pride and a lifetime grudge rested on him winning. As the day grew closer, Bulma started to feel anxious. What if Vegeta lost? How would he take such a defeat? And if he won, would there be any repercussions? But if Vegeta had any similar concerns he kept them to himself, and the more she worried, the less Vegeta appeared to. By the time Friday rolled around, Vegeta was walking tall and full of himself, ready to take on the world, or at the very least, Zarbon.
Friday arrived and saw Bulma, Vegeta and the MMA crew all pile into the school bus after classes to head to Zarbon’s school. Goku and the others were in good spirits, excited to be sparring other students and trying out their skills. Even Vegeta was smiling and participating in some of their banter, exchanging smack talk with the guys, boasting about how he would end the other team and take on everyone else’s opponents too if they were too scared or weak to fight. It was nice to see Vegeta in such good spirits.
“Wow, I’ve never seen Vegeta so animated before,” Chi-Chi whispered to Bulma as they watched Vegeta preen at a compliment Goku was paying him. “He must be eager to fight,” her gaze slide over to Bulma, a wicked glint in her eye. “Or something else has been lifting his spirits, perhaps at home?”
Bulma blushed, sticking her nose up. “I’ve no idea what you could be insinuating.”
Chi-Chi squealed and covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my god, you two have been sleeping together!” she hissed excitedly.
Bulma shot her friend a nasty glare. She hated how easily Chi-Chi could read her. “Cut that out, do you want the whole bus to hear?” Bulma asked, glancing around, but the boys - Yamcha included - weren’t paying them any attention, thankfully.
Chi-Chi grinned through her splayed fingers, entirely unabashed. “Sorry honey, I’m just really excited for you.” She leaned in, grabbing Bulma’s hands. “So tell me, does he know how to use that body of his, or is he as rigid in bed as his personality?”
“Chi-Chi!” Bulma hissed, appalled. “You’re a horrible gossip, I’m not telling you anything.”
Chi-Chi winced. “Oh, he’s that bad, huh?”
Bulma felt indignation stiffed her spine. “Please, he’s amazing, thank you very much,” she replied hotly before she realized she’d fallen for Chi-Chi’s trap, giving the girl exactly what she wanted to know. Bulma groaned, slapping her palm over her face as Chi-Chi squealed in delight.
“I’m so happy for you!” Chi-Chi exclaimed and leaned in to hug her friend. Bulma endured it, grumbling all the while.
They arrived at the school and filed out into the parking lot. Bulma caught up to Vegeta before they headed inside. “Good luck,” she wished him with a smile, refraining from touching him openly in front of her friends, especially with Yamcha present.
Vegeta folded his arms and smirked at her. “Like I’ll need it.”
Bulma flashed him a thumbs up. She glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then blew him a quick kiss and a wink. Vegeta looked away, blushing. They caught up with the others and headed inside in the gym.
Once everyone was settled, introductions given and rules announced, the other school’s coach started the event. “First up, Zarbon versus Vegeta. Fighters, take your places.”
“Go kill ‘im, Vegeta!”
“Murder that guy!”
“You’ve got this, strong guy!”
Bulma’s heart filled with joy as she watched the team send Vegeta their luck and well wishes, and was even more amazed when Vegeta received them with a cocky smile rather than a dismissive sneer. Having a common enemy was really bringing their little gang together.
Vegeta stepped into the ring placed the middle of the gym, Zarbon stepping into the opposite end. “Oh my god, he’s huge,” Chi-Chi said nervously, eyeing Zarbon from their seats.
Bulma just nodded. She didn’t take her eyes from the ring, not wanting to miss a second. She couldn’t imagine what Vegeta was going through. He stood there confidently, arms folded, but as soon as he saw Zarbon his smile took on a harder edge.
The referee stood up. “Winners are determined by knock out, tap out, or points award at the end of the round. No groin shots, knees to the face, head butts, gouging, or biting. Let’s have a clean match, boys. Fighters, do you understand the rules?”
Both Vegeta and Zarbon nodded. Zarbon was smirking at Vegeta, while Vegeta’s expression turned serious, focused.
“Fighters, touch gloves,” the referee instructed. Zarbon grinned widely as he held out his fists, but Vegeta sneered and didn’t return the gesture.
Chi-Chi clucked her tongue at Vegeta’s poor sportsmanship, but Bulma understood. There was bad blood between these two. Vegeta wasn’t interested in playing nice.
The ref had them move back to opposite ends of the ring. “Fight!” he called.
Bulma expected Vegeta to start cautiously, but as the two boys moved closer in to each other, she gasped when he was the first to attack, dodging in with alarming speed. Zarbon reacted, throwing a punch Vegeta’s way. It looked sure to hit, and it did, right into Vegeta’s palm as he caught Zarbon’s fist mid-air. The small audience gasped, impressed. Zarbon’s face twisted in shock. Vegeta grinned darkly, squeezing Zarbon’s fist tightly.
Vegeta shoved the hand away and Zarbon stumbled back a few steps, flexing his fingers to shake off Vegeta’s grip. “Well, well, you surprise me, Vegeta,” Zarbon admitted.
Vegeta chuckled softly. “I’ve learned a few tricks since last we fought,” he confided cockily.
Zarbon didn’t seem to take kindly to that. He threw himself towards Vegeta, pressing a furious attack of kicks and punches. Vegeta wove side to side, dodging the onslaught nimbly. Zarbon was growing more and more irritated. He tried a high kick, and Vegeta slipped to the side, using the opening to lash out with his own kick which caught Zarbon and sent the older boy down.
Zarbon tried to scramble to his feet but Vegeta pressed his advantage. When Zarbon found his feet, Vegeta kicked him again, sending Zarbon once more sprawling face down. Vegeta stayed back, watching from a safe distance as Zarbon recovered, letting it sink in that he was dominating the match.
Zarbon slowly pushed up on his arms, gasping for air, his head hanging low. Then a sound filled the room, soft at first, but louder until it echoed in the gym. Vegeta frowned. Zarbon was laughing.
“What the hell is wrong with that guy?” Chi-Chi asked; Bulma said nothing. She felt an uneasy chill at Zarbon’s laughter. She glanced again at Vegeta and saw that he was also unsettled.
Zarbon stood, wiping spit from his mouth. He grinned at Vegeta. “Oh, I have to concede, you’ve greatly improved, Vegeta. I’m impressed.” That he admitted as much with a smile had Bulma uneasy. She saw Vegeta shift, into a defensive position, waiting for an attack. Something just wasn’t right.
Then Zarbon’s team started chanting, “BEAST. BEAST. BEAST. BEAST!”
Zarbon chuckled, glancing at his team and waving a hand at them good-naturedly. He looked back at Vegeta. “Unfortunately, Vegeta, it’s still not enough. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
“BEAST. BEAST. BEAST.”
Vegeta gave the chanting crowd an irritated glance before looking back at Zarbon, scowling. He stood, wary, waiting for an attack. Zarbon however just chuckled, straightening his back. He turned around and grabbed his shirt, facing the crowd. “Allow me to introduce you to the Beast,” he declared dramatically over his shoulder. In one smooth movement, Zarbon ripped his shirt over his head, proudly displaying his torso. On his back and shoulders was a large tattoo, some hideous lizard-like monster inked across his body. Zarbon’s team crowed in approval at the tattoo’s reveal, hooting and crying out, “It’s the Beast!”
“The little guy’s in for it now!”
“The Beast, the Beast!”
The look on Vegeta’s face told Bulma that he had no idea about the tattoo despite having lived with Zarbon for years. Vegeta was so stunned that he wasn’t able to react in time when Zarbon suddenly stopped preening and lunged at him, kneeing Vegeta in the gut. Vegeta doubled over with a pained cry, and Zarbon grabbed Vegeta’s head, drawing them in to slam their skulls together.
The whistle blew and the referee jumped in to pull the two boys apart as the room erupted into noise. Zarbon’s team was cheering while Vegeta’s were objecting the foul move. Zarbon laughed, unconcerned by the chaos, watching in amusement as Vegeta staggered back, trying to find his balance after the blow to his head. Vegeta’s face was twisted in a silent snarl, glaring at Zarbon as he held his brow, blood trickling down into his eye.
“Foul move! Zarbon is disqualified. Vegeta wins!” The referee announced and grabbed Vegeta’s arm, lifting it in the air. More noise filled the gym, this time protests arising from Zarbon’s team, while Goku and the others applauded the decision. Strangely, Zarbon didn’t seem upset about the technical loss, while Vegeta didn’t look pleased by his win. As soon as the ref let his arm go, Vegeta stormed off, but Zarbon grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from leaving the ring. Zarbon leaned in and whispered something to Vegeta that Bulma couldn’t hear from her seat.
Whatever Zarbon was saying, the news twisted Vegeta’s face bitterly. He glanced at her for a heartbeat, something painful flashing in his eyes, then he looked askance. He shoved Zarbon out of his way and continued to stomp off the matts. He snatched up a rag to stop the bleeding from the cut on his eyebrow and sat down on a bench far away from everyone else, brooding and glowering into space.
Bulma stood to follow, but a hand weighed on her shoulder. She looked over at Goku who gave her a friendly, sympathetic smile. “Let him have a minute to calm down,” Goku suggested.
Bulma reluctantly sat back down. She was worried, but Goku was probably right. This fight had held a lot of emotional baggage for Vegeta, and it hadn’t exactly gone the way he’d wanted it too. She knew Vegeta wasn’t happy with a technical win, especially when Zarbon had started to get the upper hand. Vegeta needed time to process what had happened and to nurse his bruised ego. Bulma cast Vegeta another worried look before she let her attention be pulled back to the ring, hearing Goku’s name called for the next match.
Goku’s fight was over quickly and in his favor, despite the other boy being even bigger than Zarbon. It was a clean fight, no fouls, the other boy putting on a good show, but Goku easily dominated him. Bulma glanced at Vegeta during the match, seeing that he watched the fight with an intense gaze. For some reason Vegeta looked furious, and when the referee held up Goku’s arm in victory, Vegeta gritted his teeth and threw his bloody rag away, utterly livid. He got up and left the gym, heading towards the bathrooms.
The match ups continued. After the fourth battle, Vegeta still hadn’t returned. “Have you seen Vegeta?” Bulma asked her friends, but no one had. She waited for him anxiously. Soon all the fighters had participated in their bouts, but Vegeta was still missing. At her insistence, Goku went to the bathroom to look for him, but when he came out, he shook his head. “It’s empty,” Goku told her.
Vegeta must have slipped out some back way. Bulma checked her phone but there were no messages. She couldn’t help feeling a little betrayed. After their week together, barely leaving each other’s company, it was a blow to think that Vegeta had just left without a word to her, even if he was upset.
She tried calling his cell, but he didn’t answer. She sent him a text asking if he was okay and to get in contact with her when he could. She waited and waited, but there was no reply.
“Alright, time to pack up,” Piccolo said, and everyone started getting up and heading out into the paling evening light. Bulma lingered in the parking lot, searching for Vegeta, but he was no where to be seen. Piccolo honked the horn and Bulma stepped into the bus.
“Coach, Vegeta isn’t here,” Bulma protested as Piccolo put the keys into the ignition.
“Vegeta? He called and said he was going to find his own way back,” Piccolo told her nonchalantly.
Bulma’s eyes widened, shocked. Vegeta had spoken to Coach, but not her? She sat down in the bus dumbly and stared outside as a light rain started pattering against the window panes. Her friends were all talking around her about their bouts, but Bulma was deaf to their words, her stomach twisting in knots over Vegeta’s whereabouts, her thoughts as stormy as the weather.
When she got home she searched the whole house, but Vegeta wasn’t there. Hours ticked by and as the evening grew later. Bulma was beside herself with worry. She tried calling him and sending more messages but to no avail. She finally fell asleep in a chair, waiting for Vegeta to come home, her phone still in her hand.
She was awoken by a sharp sound. She startled awake as her phone rang, buzzing against her fingers. Vegeta’s ID was on the screen.
She hurriedly answered the call. “Vegeta?”
There was no answer, just white noise. Bulma frowned. She checked the call but it was active. She placed the phone back to her ear. “Vegeta? Can you hear me?” she tried again.
“…Yeah,” he replied, his voice quiet, strained. It was such a huge relief to finally hear from him, and her relief quickly turned to anger.
“What the HELL, Vegeta! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been about you?” she yelled into the receiver, on the brink of tears.
He chuckled weakly. “It’s good to hear your voice, too,” he said.
His compliment silenced her. It wasn’t like Vegeta to be so tender with his words. Bulma felt an uneasiness prickle her. “Vegeta… where are you?” she asked, worried.
“Never mind that,” he replied, his voice still strained. “I just wanted to hear you speak.”
“What?… Why?”
“Do I need a reason?”
Bulma felt her uneasiness spike. “Yes!” she replied back, her heart beating wildly, disturbed by his strangeness. Vegeta never wanted to just talk. “Vegeta, what’s wrong, what’s going on?”
He sighed but right at the end it turned into a cough. It sounded wet and painful. “…Fuck,” he swore weakly when he was able to catch his breath.
Bulma’s hand was shaking as she clutched the cell phone to her ear, listening to him struggle to breathe, horrified. “Vegeta…?” she whispered softly, frightened for him. She could feel tears welling in her eyes.
“Hey,” he croaked at her, trying to sound cheerful. “What’s that thing you always say to me?”
“Wh-what thing?” she asked, tears starting to fall down her cheeks. Something was very, very wrong.
“When we’re together, in bed, and you’re about to come. What do you say to me?” he insisted quietly.
Bulma felt the tears continue to fall, unable to stop them. “Th-that I l-love you?”
Vegeta started coughing again. It took a while for him to stop. Finally his breathing eased. “Yeah. That’s the one.”
“Vegeta, what’s going on,” Bulma insisted frantically, sobbing.
“I just don’t understand it,” he continued, almost as if he hadn’t heard her, and he laughed, sounding pained. “You’re so smart, Bulma, but when it comes to men, you really are stupid. How could someone like you love someone like me? It just doesn’t make sense. I don’t deserve it.”
She was weeping openly now, destroyed by the sounds he was making and the words he was saying. She wanted to hit something in frustration. “It’s true,” she insisted at his denial, her voice hitching wetly.
“Yeah,” he agreed softly, sadly. “I know. And I’ll never forgive myself for it. And I’ll never forgive myself, if I don’t…”
He trailed off. Bulma waited, but when he didn’t continue she grew scared. “Vegeta? Vegeta! If you don’t what?”
He groaned, and his breath came out in a shudder. He was injured, she was certain, seriously. She’s never felt more scared. Bulma jumped up, running to her father’s office to boot up his computer, brushing away her tears. “Vegeta, please, tell me where you are.”
“Can’t… Don’t know myself,” he laughed wryly, only to start coughing again.
Bulma plugged her phone into the computer and loaded up a program. “Vegeta, what happened?” she insisted again, just trying to get him to stay on the line with her. “Where did you go after today’s fight with Zarbon?”
“Zarbon,” Vegeta groaned, choking spitefully on the name. “I could have had him. I know I could have…” Vegeta grunted, sucking in a pained breath. “Bulma, listen… Stay away from him. Stay off their radar. I can’t…”
Numbers and maps started pulling up on the computer screen, and Bulma typed in instructions as the software started scanning. “What are you talking about?”
“Hey~,” he said, his voice weak. Bulma could hardly breath for the fear that gripped her chest.
“Mm?” she replied, not trusting her voice to form words.
“Hey, Bulma…” he repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her.
“Uh-huh?” she replied nervously, tears still slipping down her face.
“I’m sorry.”
“F-for what?”
“Everything…”
“Vegeta?”
The screen flashed, and Bulma stared at the results of her search popped up on the computer: Vegeta’s GPS coordinates were highlighted on a map, several miles away from her location.
“You were right,” he confessed, his voice fading. “I am a jerk.”
“I know,” she said, half laughing, half sobbing, wiping the wetness from her eyes so she could copy down his coordinates.
“Bulma… I love you.”
Bulma froze, her pen falling from her fingers, her breath caught in her lungs. She couldn’t form a reply, her words lost, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Then the phone call ended, the line going dead, and just like that, he was gone.

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

AN:… This is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.
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