Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ More Than I Can Say ❯ More Than I Can Say ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or the characters. I also do not own a pony, a treasure map, or a gyroscope. And, no, none of those last three have anything to do with anything.

 

Author's Note: It was originally going to be longer, but there's nothing more to really say. Short and sweet.

 

 

 

More Than I Can Say

 

Throughout their relationship, which despite all its problems (of which all the major trespasses had been on his part, he would admit) had lasted about a year more than their son's three decades of life, she had said it once and he not at all. Most people, he'd determined, who had watched far too many soap operas or teen dramas, would suppose that she had confessed her feelings for him early and he, with the usual male emotional constipation, had refused to reciprocate. They would think that she'd never expressed her utmost affection for him again for fear of alienating him.

 

But while Bulma was indeed an emotional woman, she took her emotions very seriously. Recklessly expressing her anger was one thing; she would not take such a risk as to tell him she was his so early in their relationship. She didn't know all that much about him back then, after all, and it had been perfectly clear that he would not respond likewise.

 

It had been long (very long) after their first night together that she had said the words. It had not happened after the Cell Games were over and he was in his depression from his rival's death. It had not been on the night they were married in a court proceeding (the reason for which, she had said in something of a teasing manner, was to provide a proper family image to the public and for their bastard son, though later she had made a point of confiding that she wanted Vejita to be taken care of if something should happen). It had not even been after the ordeal of the Buu holocaust, although he had come as close as he ever had to admitting it himself by apologizing to her for everything he had done that day (as close as he ever had besides when he agreed to become her legal husband).

 

The day the words came, Bulma lie in a hospital bed cradling her newborn girl in her arms. Trunks had left the room momentarily, and after a minute or so of silence, she had looked up at Vejita, who stood beside her peering at the second life he'd assisted in creating. Despite her weariness, her face was bright with happiness as she beckoned him to bend down. After she had kissed him, she cupped his cheek with her free hand and said, “I love you.” And she did not see the shock on his face, as she had turned her head and gazed upon their baby. Although it was obvious that she understood him and did not expect him to reply, he had felt shame. He wanted to tell her that he felt the same-- he knew that he did-- but he couldn't. There was never a right time. There would never be a right time, for whenever he thought of saying those same words to her, it just seemed wrong. Those words were wrong from him. Anything that wasn't dark and terrible seemed wrong coming from him. He was always wrong, always had been.

 

And he could never understand how she could say that she loved him.