Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Event Horizon ❯ Once Upon A Breakup ( Chapter 1 )

Event Horizon: Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own DB Z/GT ect, nor the characters themselves save for the few that will be introduced in the upcoming chapters. When I do introduce OC's, I will make sure to list them here as needed.

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Capsule Corporation, the Briefs' Estate

Wallowing in a myriad assortment of inflexible emotions, a woman in her early thirties stared up into the scarred face of a man that had brought the raw torment to her face. She swallowed once, then twice, while her azure eyes scanned the chocolate depths of his brown ones. He watched her with an impassive expression that threatened to fall away at any moment, given the slightest hint at tears from her end. She was backed up against a corner, both figuratively and literally. The cool press of the flat wallpaper at her back did nothing to steady her, but somehow deep inside she willed the strength to reach her somehow. She was nothing without it, nothing at all.

Yamcha broke the heavy silence first. "Look Babe, I'm sorry. I can't help it... we aren't getting anywhere and you know it."

Bulma forced down the lump in her throat, counting backwards from one-hundred as the flats of her palms went flush against the wall behind her for further support. She certainly couldn't find that in Yamcha anymore, but he did have a point. "Oh, Yamcha... has it truly come down to just this? All those years together.."

"Don't get me wrong, Bulma. We had a lot of good times together. I wouldn't change that for the world... but you know as well as I do that we can't keep going like this." He tried to come across as reasonable, but she sensed how hard this was for him as well.

"Damn it, Yamcha," she said softly and with feeling, "I put a lot of time into you."

"Wasted time," he corrected sadly.

She risked another look up into those soulful eyes. Her gaze traced the tracks of the haphazard scars that marred his roguish face, inwardly noting their appeal. I can't believe this is it. Bulma found herself reminiscing to earlier times, when she first came to notice Yamcha in her youth. She had been a more naive version of her present self then, a silly, flirtatious girl filled with wild notions about boyfriends and love. The way she tilted her chin up to him now, the way she saw him at that very moment... he was suddenly transformed. Gone were the permanent abrasions to his face, gone was the tightness to the mouth and burgeoning crow's feet beneath those dark eyes. He was suddenly a much younger version of himself just then. An adolescent desert bandit, with nothing but a shapeshifting cat for a companion and a mop of unruly black hair. He had that playboy grin, that attitude that set him against the world. He had nothing and everything to prove. A few seconds later, and she was brought back to reality by the lulling sound of his deep voice. Oh, that voice...

"Uh, Bulma? You there?" He waved a hand across her line of vision, after she had apparently drifted elsewhere. The look pasted on her face was elated, and he wondered what for.

Bulma blinked several times, concentrating on the man before her. The young, uncouth boy disappeared in a flash, leaving her standing next to his future counterpart. "Huh? Oh, sorry... I was just thinking."

To Yamcha's great surprise and relief, Bulma wasn't gushing a river yet over their breakup. This had to be the final one, or else they would be doomed to repeat a grim scenario in which both would be well into their eighties and still working out the same cycle over and over again. Quarrel, separation, the makeup, a short-lived peace, and then repeat. It was fine for teenagers, as no one expected any deep commitment of them anyway. It had given them the excitement they needed at that age, paralleling nicely to their several misadventures. Once in their early to mid-twenties, it had evolved into a small nuisance, yet it was still tolerable. Neither was really ready to settle down yet at that time in life. Now they were both at a stage when they knew of friends with wedding bands and young children. While this kept their friends occupied nicely, he and Bulma were still trying to get past the basics of what it meant to be in a committed relationship that didn't involve a breakup every two weeks. It was driving him insane, and he couldn't take it anymore. Yamcha was nearly certain that Bulma felt the same way.

"You know, you're right." Bulma's breathy voice cut through his dreading thoughts. "We can't go on this way. It just isn't healthy." She broke words to him for a minute, before continuing, "I'll always care for you, Yamcha.."

He hung his head, but nodded in response, "I know. I always be there for you too, Bulma."

"I'm sorry..."

He held up one finger, effectively shutting off any further excuses that she might have made. "Don't be. It's mutual."

The blue-haired woman admired him just then. He was being a lot deeper with her than he had in a long time, perhaps more than ever. Had he really matured so effectively? Had she failed to notice the change, so kept up with the predictability of their unstable relationship? Whatever the reason, she respected him for it. "Thank you, Yamcha."

As if from some unseen signal, the two embraced. Not as boyfriend and girlfriend, but as friends. They had closed that previous chapter that had kept them reading into disillusions for so long, and now they were ready to write the new one on a more platonic level. As they drew apart, Bulma once again saw that familiar glint in his eyes, the one that was unmistakably him. It signified a change towards better times between them, and fresh starts.

In her mind's eye, Bulma was once again reminded of that unproven boy who used to smile at her in such a way that her insides turned to jelly. She would always keep memories like those safe within her, even upon her deathbed.

They now stood apart, realistically only by a few feet, but it might have been miles over a trench so deep that no bridge could ever breach it again. Strangely enough, they were each content with their share. Never again would pass over that gaping maw, that dividing line that gave way to a couple status. It was finally over.

Bulma made the first move, stepping carefully around Yamcha to give him his space. She rubbed at her eyes, shaking her head as if to clear it. Boy, do I feel like hell. Some day this turned out to be. "Well, I better go find Dad and see if I can help him with his newest toy."

Yamcha hesitated, knowing his cue to leave. "Alright. Sure you are going to be ok?"

"Yeah, I'll survive." She gave him a thumbs up, aided by a faint smile. Ok, so she wasn't completely alright, but it was as good as it was going to get at that moment. Time would eventually come in and fix the other loose ends. Perhaps it wasn't the relationship itself that she would miss, perhaps it was something else. It could have been the very nature of the thing, the ability to rely on the predictability. Yeah, that had to be it.

"Yeah, ok. I'll see you around, then." He paused awkwardly.

She retreated back a few more steps, making a sweeping motion with her hands in order to relieve the slight tension assailing the air. "You know the way out."

He flashed her a small grin, and she could only return it. At least they were departing on good terms. They both had needed to do this at some point or another, and she couldn't think of a better time. He had been the first to bring it up, after a short session of cuddling on the couch in the den while playing movies. As teenagers, it had been absolutely ridiculous to rent the motion pictures in the first place. All of their attention had been diverted to heavy petting and long makeout regimes. Sadly enough, the last year or so actually gave them the time to pay close attention to the plots on their habitual movie nights. They were never all over each other like they used to when they were a pair of raging hormones. In fact, their very last fight had been over separate perceptions in reference to a particular comedy they had watched. Neither could take the other's rendition of it, and so instead of agreeing to disagree, it had opened up an entirely new can of worms... all over a movie, nonetheless.

Yeah, this final breakup had to be it, or they would both be in the local mental ward before they hit forty. "Bye, Babe."

"Bulma. Call me Bulma now," she reminded him.

"Oops, yeah. Old habits die hard, huh?"

She favored him with a shaky smile as he showed her his backside and exited the house. Bulma groaned, sidling up to a comfortable couch before allowing herself to unceremoniously flop down upon it. Did I just make the biggest mistake of my life? What if... There she was again, jumping back into the old mindset. It always made her hold on to a single, shining strand of hope. It was some crazy belief that things would eventually become better for herself and Yamcha as they aged, even though they never did. Forget it.

As she held her hand to the cool perspiration at her forehead, Bulma suddenly got the impression she was being watched. One eyelid flicked open, staring straight ahead at first. The second eyelid soon followed suit, causing her to crane her neck up and over to the archway leading into the elaborate foyer. A familiar and unwanted presence emanated from the spot, like an old spill or stain in the carpeting. Vegeta stood there, arms crossed as he leaned casually up against the wall. He was wearing a pair of dark pants and a white tank top along with boots, which was odd indeed. To have him garbed in anything other than Saiyan armor or the pastel colored clothing that she had conned him into wearing more than once was a change, but not necessarily a bad one. A smug smile had fixated itself to his mouth, tugging it mercilessly up in one corner. There was a dark gleam to his eye, as if he were amused with the entire situation. The moment he noticed that she was aware of his person, however, he shuttered down his expression into a hard, indifferent glare.

"Oh, hell... what do you want, Vegeta?" She was not in the mood for his goading, if that were indeed what he stood there for. How much had he heard, or witnessed, even?

He jerked away from the frame of the arch, angling himself away towards the kitchen. A scowl deepened the creases already indenting his high-set temple. "Food, what else?"

She waved him off, almost dismissively. "I'm not in the mood. Go get it yourself."

The displeased Prince glowered even further, a hint of warning in his voice when he spoke next. "Get your lazy ass off that couch, woman. I do not need to ask you twice."

"Did you hear me, or what?" She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, refraining from bursting out into a tirade of obscenities. It hadn't been even a month since she had given Vegeta the right to free room and board within her house. She knew she was to regret the decision even from the outset, but she hadn't really been fully prepared to see the errors of her ways. In the last few weeks since his arrival, Vegeta had made nearly every day a living hell for both her and her parents. The only relief that came to the three was when Vegeta was away, training in the GR. When it malfunctioned, she was the first to know. Bulma was also the first to repair it, saving her father from the task. After all, she was the one that had to take responsibility for the absolute monster she had invited into the household. There was not a day that went by that Vegeta made her sorely regret that initial decision of allowing him to stay with them, but she also knew in the long run it was for the best. As was foretold, the Earth as they knew it would be in dire straights indeed if Androids which were to come in less than three years had no one to stand up to them. Her personal sufferance was for the greater good, she reasoned. By putting up with a homicidal bastard for three years, she could save the people of Earth who depended on Capsule Corp. for so many things, other than their lives.

Thankfully, her father's reaction to Vegeta insofar had only been a muttered comment now and again, besides steering clear of him altogether if possible. Her mother was a bit more dense on the subject, and constantly flitted to and fro about the Prince as if he were nothing but a pleasant houseguest that would be making a longer stay than most did. The staff around the compound had much better sense, just as he father did. They made sure to stay out of Vegeta's way. No one was too keen on becoming a charred and blackened hole in the ground, or so it seemed.

Vegeta growled, switching positions so that he closed the distance between them at a brisk clip. With more force than was necessary, he brought his hand down and jerked Bulma roughly to her feet before shoving her forward. "When I say something, I mean do it!"

Bulma lost it right then and there. When she regained her footing, she whirled on him, fists clenched tightly at her sides. "You asshole! Look, I just broke up with Yamcha--" She sniffed, and then added, "--And I don't need your bullying right now!"

He just shook his head, slowly back and forth. "You pathetic creature. Simpering and pining for that weak fool... do you actually think I give a damn about your irrational feelings? Go get me something to eat, woman. I do not care how you do it, just don't cook!"

"Bastard!" she screamed, raising one fist. "I am so not taking this! You know you could ask anybody here to get you something, yet you nag me about it! Besides, whatever is between Yamcha and I is our own business, you got that?! I don't give a flying fuck about what you think of our situation, but I don't need your negative commentary, either!!!

In a movement so fast it bewildered her, he caught the slender circumference of the pale wrist held above her head. It was just a motion, a gesture to further supplicate her fury towards him. She would never actually be stupid enough to bring her fist down on him; she wasn't suicidal just yet. For some reason that she couldn't fathom, he appeared to take it that way. Oh yeah, Vegeta. I'm a real threat to your well being. The hand encircling her wrist tightened into a crushing pressure, before he twisted slightly. She cried out in pain, feeling her knees give out from beneath her. Oh, Kami... it hurt so much. Was that his plan to get her to do his bidding, by breaking her wrist? She should have known better than to incur his wrath so quickly. Sometimes it just couldn't be helped. Vegeta was a ticking time bomb, no matter what situation you placed him in.

He applied force to the point at which he held her arm, pushing her away at the exact point she felt the tendons in her hand stretch themselves beyond their normal limit. Staggering backwards in a manner that nearly made her hit the carpeting shoulder-first, Bulma winced as she held her damaged wrist by the opposite hand. Experimentally, she moved it to and fro, biting down on her lower lip at the realization that it was sprained. Oh, that little...

"That is nothing. I could easily send you into the next dimension just by the force in one of my fingers. You tempt me greatly. Be thankful I only keep you alive to repair the training simulator." He narrowed his eyes down disdainfully at the way she held her wrist oh-so-carefully.

"You.. you son-of-a..."

He raised one hand, while the dim glow of a silent energy began to gravitate around his closed fist. She abruptly shut up.

Giving him a murderous glare instead, Bulma hastened out of the living room. Oh, how she hated him. Her wrist would no doubt require the healing aide of a cast, and it would be no easy thing to hide the injury from the rest of the world. At least it's not broken.

She left him standing there in the middle of the den, surrounded by his own inner dealings. She couldn't even begin to comprehend why he did what he did, but then again she wasn't all that willing to, either. As soon as she could inform one of the staff to place an order for several large pizzas, she could be left to the relative peace of her room for the night. She found herself missing Yamcha already, but not for the reasons she should have. It would have been nice to have someone else stand up for her; but then again she had kept pretty quiet about her domestic plight. She didn't dare tell Goku, the one individual on the planet that could actually take on Vegeta without an army of nuclear missiles at their back. If she did, that would be one less Saiyan to fight against the onslaught of the Androids, and that narrowed down Earth's chances significantly. No matter how self-absorbed she might be, she wasn't that selfish. There would come a time when Vegeta would finally be out of the picture, and she couldn't wait for that day.

The only question remaining was this: Would she survive to see it?

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-AN: Well, that's the first chapter for Event Horizon, my fanfic set during those first three years. I know I started this before I finished Doubts, but that's almost over with anyways, so I just decided to go ahead and get this chapter in here. I have quite a few twists and turns planned along the way, so this won't be typical, but at the same time it -won't- be an AU. I want to realistically portray what actually might have happened during those three years between Bulma and Vegeta (and yes, Yamcha is not a cheater in this fic) ...let me know what you think so far. Without you guys, this fic is nothing, so thanks a bunch for your support so far!