Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Orange Star High School ❯ Fresh Start ( Chapter 8 )

I would like to remind everyone that this story is not for the homophobic, or those not willing to see Vegeta not with Bulma. Any bitching will only result in me getting pissed and adding more of the offensive couple. Oh, how they will be offensive. So offensive… **smirks**

Anyway, this is a more `light-hearted' chapter.

Chapter Eight: Fresh Start

He awoke with a strangled shriek of animalistic pleasure and fear. He was bathed in sweat, and he glared in the darkness at his hands, trying to assure himself that the moisture was not blood. His breath was labored, and muscles twitched involuntarily along his half-seated body.

God, how could he have dreamt that? What was wrong with him? It was sick and wrong to think of those things. There was no justification to do those things, even if it was only in his imagination. What demon had come to haunt him?

His stepfather entered the room, and he instinctively cringed. His stepfather had been decent the whole of Christmas vacation. Guilt ate at him as he remembered the dream he'd just been having. There was so much blood…

He could see the blunt his stepfather was smoking in the darkness. His stepfather was willing to mix up his drug selection every once and awhile… especially when they were between shipments from Latin America.

"Bad dream?" His stepfather asked, sitting on the bed beside him. Vegeta had to suppress the hysterical giggles in his throat as he nodded. It was so weird, his stepfather acting so --- paternal.

His stepfather took the joint out of his mouth and offered it to him. He blinked.

"Take it." His stepfather said gruffly. "You've got school tomorrow and I want to see you come up with some good artwork from that set I bought you." He grumbled, jerking the joint in his direction again. He sounded irritated, the first time he'd sounded like that in these two weeks… it was not a good sign.

He took the joint with fumbling fingers. Part of him cringed at what he was about to do. Another part of him told that part to shut the fuck up, because there were infinitely worse drugs that he could be doing other than weed, and it would most likely stop the dream from coming again and he could finally fucking sleep!

He took an inexperience huff from the blunt, and gagged immediately at the taste. The scent wasn't any more pleasing to the senses. He coughed loudly and passed the joint back to his stepfather, who smirked and patted his back. He felt like he was retching out his organs.

"Good boy," His stepfather said proudly. "You'll get the hang of it."

However the lightheaded free-floating that he'd always heard about came, and he felt his body relax, for the first time in what felt like months. Frieza shoved the joint back in his mouth and he obligingly took another deeper inhalation of the smoking plant.

"Damn." He muttered.

"Yeah, it's some good shit. Got it from Canada. They got great shit there." His stepfather patted him on the back once more, before taking the joint and heading back into the front room.

He lay back onto the bed after a moment, and reveled in feelings of calm that infiltrated his body.

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

She had survived the dinner with her father. She thanked the heavens for his obliviousness. They didn't suspect her, which meant that she really couldn't be addicted to the coke. After all, people always caught on to the coke addicts. If they didn't catch her, then she wasn't addicted. That made sense.

It was the first day of the new semester, and she was eager to get back to the school. Being at school meant an excuse to go see Vegeta after it, and eventually get a hit. Vegeta could protect her too, as stepson of the dealer.

She adjusted her skirt one last time, before heading out the door and into her car.

She turned the keys in the ignition, and glared at the hula dancer sitting on her dashboard. The hula girl was dad's `inspired' gift for Christmas, as well as a two hundred dollar spending spree. He had no clue. Part of her was angry that he didn't discover her bad habit. He should have noticed how thin she'd become, how different and secretive she'd become. How her grades had started to dip from their perfect As to mixed As and Bs. He should have known!

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

"You're going to counseling again." His father muttered over his mug of coffee.

Goku froze with his spoon of Count Cocoa's in mid-air. He glared at his father.

"Why?"

"You know why. You just don't seem to be handling it well, you've been getting into fights at school."

"You noticed did you?" Goku slammed his spoon down. "Who are you to say I'm not coping? You have hardly been home since they left!" He snarled. "That fight was nearly four months ago, I think I've been `coping' well."

"Your school psychologist suggested it." Bardock said resentfully. "Your appointment's at three, be sure and show up." He snapped, before leaving the table.

Goku fumed as he tossed the half-eaten bowl of cereal into the sink, chipping the rim. Toma entered the kitchen and sighed.

"It's only three appointments… they're only an hour and it won't kill you. It might help talking to someone who wasn't involved in the mess some way or another. After that, me and you can start working on your father to go."

Goku sighed.

"I guess…"

He hefted his bag over his shoulder and headed out toward school.

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

His teeth gritted as he entered the school building. He hated it so much. Scrunching up his shoulders he shoved the doors open, and entered the wretched building.

The noise level was almost painful after two weeks of near silence in the apartment. His stepfather was up early and out late for the most part, and that had left him a lot of time alone. The barrage of mindless chatter made his skull throb.

Closing his eyes, he stalked towards his locker, knowing that people would move, for the most part, out of his way. Once everyone had known what had happened **that** night, they gave him a wide berth.

His faith in the universe was challenged quite rudely when he bumped into somebody. He opened his eyes to glare at the blue haired girl. He'd been the one he'd seen on the bus one day… she was new, and her name was ---

"You could say excuse me." She sneered as she picked up the pencils from the floor. "Maybe you should watch where you walk?" She suggested with heavy irony as she stood.

He cocked an eyebrow at her that he knew gave him a superior air. She looked pretty pissed off as he walked past her without her word, which was just what he wanted. He liked it when he could tick them off. It was a cheap thrill, but he had to get them where he could.

"Fuck you, Vegeta." She spat.

This he couldn't resist. He turned around, gave her an appraising look, and tilted his nose up in a haughty fashion.

"Not my type," He shrugged before heading over to his locker. He heard her snarl incoherently, and he let himself have a smirk of self-satisfaction.

It was so wrong to enjoy their frustration, he reminded himself. It really wasn't better than what they were doing to him. One had to fight fire with fire though, and whilst in Rome do as the Romans do, and all that other crap.

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

"Hey! Yamucha!" The coach called, and Yamucha obediently jogged over to the trim older man.

"Yes, coach?" He asked, jogging in place to keep his blood flowing.

"You are going out for the team with us this year, aren't you?" He asked.

"Do you have to ask?" Yamucha shrugged.

"Just making sure. I'm opening up the weight room in the afternoons until six, if you want to come work out --- "

"That'd be great! I can work on getting more strength behind my swing."

"Exactly." The coach said enthusiastically. "East has an excellent pitcher this year, and I want you to be ready for him."

"I will, don't worry. We'll tromp them like we do every year!"

"That's the spirit!"

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

He scowled as he stood in the elevator. Adam and Michael had jumped in with him, otherwise he would have walked, but the doors had shut, leaving him trapped with the two idiots.

They too were on Orange Star's scholarship program, but Vegeta suspected it was more because they filled the `disadvantaged' quota, and they could play football rather well, than their brains that got them into the school.

They were currently tossing insults at him, which they didn't seem to notice he was ignoring. Today had proven to be mostly a waste of time, as usual, and for some reason this irritated him.

"He must be on the rag, Mike."

The twin idiots chortled as the elevator came to a halt and they stepped out.

"Go fuck yourselves." He said as he marched down to his apartment (thankfully on the opposite wing of theirs).

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Someone asked, causing him to jump.

A man, about in his twenties, had a box in his arms, and a smirk on his face as he stared at him. His skin was pale with a slight green cast, and his short hair was dyed green. He wore a muscle t-shirt with a name he could not place on it, and a pair of tight denim jeans.

He was most definitely good looking. He shouldn't get involved though… no matter how much he wanted to.

"It's a skin condition." The man sighed, scratching his cheek.

"Huh?" Was the most intelligent sound that came out of his mouth.

"That's why my skin's slightly green."

"Oh." Vegeta shrugged. "So you're the new neighbor?"

"Yeah," the other man set his box down. "My name's Piccolo Daimou."

"How apt you should be in a band then." He offered his hand as he jerked his head to the box full of sheet music.

"Yeah… And your name is?" The other man took his hand firmly.

"Vegeta Saiyajinn."

"Interesting name…" Vegeta shrugged indifferently. He seemed to be doing a lot of shrugging. "You wouldn't happen to be a singer, would you?" He looked at him hopefully.

"I can't sing worth crap. Why?"

"Damn. I was hoping it'd be like the movies, you know, they have this pregnant pause, and then someone asks a question and the person they're talking to says `I can do that'." His smirk widened, shining flashing white teeth. Vegeta felt himself chuckle. "Maybe I should get back to reality though," He sighed, picking up his box again.

"You going anywhere Friday night?" Piccolo asked as Vegeta slid his key into the front lock.

"I don't have plans, no." Vegeta said, looking at Piccolo curiously out of the corner of his eye.

"My band's got a gig Friday, and we're getting paid extra for every head we bring in beyond the normal capacity." He shifted his box and pulled out a card from his back pocket. He had nice thighs, Vegeta noticed. "You're eighteen, right?" He nodded. "Great, that'll get you into the club section at least." Piccolo stared at the card. "You don't mind **alternative** genres do you?"

"What do you think?" Vegeta gestured to himself.

"Thought not, but better safe than having an angry parent on your ass. Here's the card for where we'll be playing. Flash `em the card and they'll give you a discount on the fee." He handed him the card.

"See you there?" Piccolo said as he started to back into his apartment.

"I'll try."

"Great! I'd like to eat!"

Vegeta smirked at that, as he opened his own door and entered. He shouldn't build up his hopes. He risked a peek at the card, and grinned as he saw the name of one of biggest gay clubs in town. He'd never been, but he'd heard of it…

This was too good to be true.

"You met the fag next door?" His stepfather called from his position on the couch. Vegeta cringed at the term `fag', his stepfather was not sensitive to others feelings, and it hurt when his stepfather went on a rant about `dirty homos'.

"You mean Piccolo?" He asked, hanging up his jacket. "Yeah. Can I go out Friday?"

"Sure." His stepfather grunted. "Stay out as late as you want, I'm not going to be here either." His stepfather was silent for a moment, "You're going to that club the fag's playin' at right?"

"Yeah…" Vegeta said with hesitation. "He got me a discounted pass in, I don't see why I shouldn't take advantage of it." He added nervously: "Unless you don't want me to go?"

"Nah, go ahead, at least I know that when your with the fags you're not knocking up some dumb bitch." His stepfather sighed.

His stepfather was in self-reflective and sober mood… a rare thing.

"Why did you marry my mom?" He asked, surprising himself.

"I suppose because I was on a binge, your mom was hot, and it sounded like a good idea at the time." Frieza shrugged. "I just woke up five days afterward, and she was laying in bed with me. I figured `what the hell' and never got around to annulling it." Frieza lit up a plain tobacco cigarette, "Not exactly the fairytale romance, was it?"

"No,"

"You were about a year old then." Frieza looked thoughtfully at his cigarette. "Around two months after you were born was when I met her, she'd started snorting after father left when you were born. She was in love with him." Frieza gave a forlorn sigh. "Sometimes I think maybe you wouldn't be so screwed up if I hadn't given her the smack. Your mom was a decent woman before she got all strung out. I think you would have liked her."

Vegeta's gut clenched at that thought. If only, if only, his life was made up of `if only's…

He did not expect his stepfather to continue, but he did.

"When she realized what she'd done to you **that** night, I think that it drove her off the deep end. That's when she really started binging." Frieza shook his head. "I was sober, for once, when she died. I'd never really seen it up close before. I'd seen people overdose and the ambulance arrived and carted them off, and that was that. She was just laying there… by the time the ambulance came it was too late." He shrugged. "They were going to take you off to your father's but he didn't want you, and I felt guilty---" He broke off into a series of coughs as he extinguished the butt of his cigarette.

"I miss her sometimes," Vegeta said quietly, feeling guilty because he really didn't think he meant it.

"Yeah, she was a lot of fun." Frieza pulled out a packet of coke, and Vegeta headed into his room, with new thoughts to ponder.