|Pure Angelic Desires
Author: Dark Hope Assassin PM
Life has been hard on Bulma. She hates people with a passion before she meets Vegeta Ouji—a boy just as troubled as her. Maybe in the end two wounded souls can heal one another. Will it happen before she loses another loved one in her life…?Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Bulma & Vegeta - Chapters: 11 - Words: 34,770 - Reviews: 102 - Favs: 25 - Follows: 9 - Updated: 07-20-06 - Published: 06-17-03 - id: 1387282
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Pure Angelic Desires
Chapter Eleven: Lurking Threats
God… how I hate you right this instant if you even exist…
I had been searching, fruitlessly, along with a large squad of policemen for my only friend for hours. It was well into the night now but the adrenaline in my veins didn't permit any sloppiness. I had to find him. I had to find him so I could slap some sense into his smirking mug for worrying me like this. I had to believe he was fine somewhere, staring at the clear starry sky or just lying on his woundless back, eyes boring into a white ceiling.
I followed that kind of train of thought so I would be able to still search for him. I was really beside myself with anxiety and I didn't really need my pessimistic view on things to affect my efficiency right then and there, thank you very much.
To my utter confusion and fury, however, soon the cops started to slack off, saying that it was too late and that they would renew the search party tomorrow, if the guy still hadn't showed up. I have no idea if you can imagine how this enraged me… I engaged in a high-pitched lecture about how they should take this more seriously and other things like that but they wouldn't listen. They just ignored me! They waved me off, bidding good-bye…!
While I ran towards the hospital, I felt angry tears push in my eyes. I was never really good with crying, so I forced myself not to shed even a single drop before finding him. I had to ask if they couldn't get a bed ready for someone who is not yet there.
When I arrived in front of the reception with a weird looking nurse staring stupidly at me from behind the desk as I tried to catch my breath—my heart had been beating so hard and fast for a long time for more than one reason—I couldn't stop the feeling of helplessness and a typical hatred washing over me. The last time I had been to a hospital had been to confirm my father's death, as if it wasn't already obvious enough. Therefore my understandable, I think, abhorrence of the institution.
"Can I help you with something, miss?" the nurse asked carefully, her tone light and probing. I didn't need her comforting ME. I needed her to find my friend and treat him! Something inside my chest scratched against my ribcage, wanting badly to yell at her for all the wrongness of our world, for the unfairness of it all… but you can't just run inside a hospital and start screeching your head off at the first person in sight… can you?
"Can I book a bed or something?" I asked in a rush, my voice harsh with determination. She better get the hint because I wasn't in the mood to be screwed with!
"Excuse me, book a bed? Is something the matter?" she asked worriedly, making my nose scrunch up with distaste. I really, really didn't need this right now… All I needed from her was a little cooperation…!
Resisting the beguiling urge to tell her off that everything was the matter and nothing was going as I wanted it to, as I realized how spoilt brat-ishly it sounded before I let myself slip, I exhaled a shaky sigh, collecting all my still-rational thoughts.
"A friend of mine has been wounded, but he's yet to be found," I elaborated as patiently as I could muster. "Can I please have a bed and team ready to treat him when he's found? He's lost a lot of blood and—"
Sometimes it amazes me. What, you'll wonder. And, just for the sake of argument, I'll tell you. The human hearing is something that truly, really staggers me. Your mind can block out any sound if you're concentrated on listening to something else, you can ignore any sound that is not of your interest. However, your ears can also pick up the weirdest things in situations when you think you have no sane thought in your head, let alone coordination of your senses and limbs.
And that was one of those weird things, interrupting me mid-sentence.
It was a conversation between nurses, or that's what they looked like to me when I took a glimpse at them. They were just passing by behind me but, as luck would have it, here's what part of the conversation I caught on to.
"He really is a looker. Although I don't go for the whole gelling-your-hair-straight-upwards kind of thing… It looks outright weird is all."
"Mia!" the second nurse chastised. "You're talking about a patient there! Besides, lay off the case—a mere boy like him couldn't possibly be a match for you!" She almost laughed at the humor in her own voice.
"Miss?" I heard from my side and snapped my head back towards the nurse behind the reception desk. She was looking expectantly at me for details about the business I had with her. What… what was I there for again?
"Excuse me for asking this—it's probably against your policy—" she raised her delicate plucked eye brows, urging me on anyway, "I've been looking for my friend everywhere and it's stupid even asking this…" Geez, I felt like a lost five-year-old asking for directions… It felt humiliating, needing others' good-will that is… "Is there—by any chance—a patient called Vegeta Ouji here?"
She seemed to contemplate the thought for a bit before saying,
"It is against the hospital's policy…" She looked at her side to the other bored-looking nurse who eyed her warily. "…But I guess since you seem to be so worried, it wouldn't hurt…"
I have no idea if you can imagine it—my relief, that is. It was a very odd emotion; it didn't feel quite right in the pit of my gut… being aided by others, receiving nice treatment from complete strangers… I have never believed in the so-called "good" within people… I have never received any of their kindness, of their care, of their compassion. I was always begrudged because of my fame, "glamour", money or status… I was always hated because I was born with more than most people. They never cared to think how I handled the death of my father, how much I disliked the way they regarded me…
And now, here I was, in the institution that I hated most, having a complete stranger browsing papers upon papers of names just so she could get the concerned frown off of my face… God was mocking me because He knew how much I hated Him, I'm sure… After all those years of torture… He picked a fine time to have others care for my worries…
"I'm sorry, miss," the nurse began with genuine sorry in her eyes—quit it, I thought bitterly, looking away from her. "There is no patient with such a name here…"
"Please, have you seen then someone about this tall," I felt like an idiot, but I had tried everything already! The tears were getting harder and harder to contain with each word. All those heavy emotions that I wasn't made for just crashed over me, suffocating me with my own tears that made it difficult to talk. I was absent-mindedly gesturing about someone a head taller than myself, "He has this peculiar hair-style that makes him look even taller than he is, and both eyes and hair are black…"
The nurse behind the desk was shaking her head in a dejecting way that chased off all hope from my face.
"I'm sorry, miss," she repeated that wretched phrase again; "I haven't seen anyone with that description entering here today…" My shoulders slumped visibly, my head fell against my collarbone. How was this possible…? I was sure those women were talking about him… It had to be him… Otherwise… otherwise… he was probably bleeding himself dry somewhere, with a crook that couldn't care less about it.
The bored-looking nurse was looking at the pair of us with a thoughtful—or maybe not—frown on her features. I hated her already… just scrutinizing other's misery, as if it was an amusement who anyone would want.
"Of course you hadn't seen anything like it—you were called on an emergency at that moment." My head whipped towards her, the implication in her words making me shiver with hope. "Room 190—it's down the corridor to your right."
I choked on the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes without check. I croaked a hasty thanks, having the elder woman wave a dismissive hand at me but I didn't have time to brood over it—I was too happy, too relieved to be moody. I ran, dodging doctors and nurses on my way, impatient about seeing him healthy again, hoping that he was alright… He was here, he was getting treated…!
I had just been hoping that he was alive and well but when I slammed the door open, I couldn't have felt better. Not only was he well but he seemed perfectly fine too. You could've been fooled that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him if you didn't notice the large bandage around his abdominal area, the lower layers of it slightly pink in colour…
His head snapped up towards the source of his peace's distress but the alarm disappeared from his eyes when he noticed me standing on the threshold of his room, chest rising a falling rapidly.
"Oh, it's just you…"
I ignored the remark as I stormed inside the room, not missing the chance to slam the large door as I did.
"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" I shrieked atop my lungs, the stress I've been through the entire night begging for a release.
"Well, that's too bad for you, then…" he teased, as if he didn't have a huge, deep wound gaping in his stomach and everything was just like any other day. His attitude infuriated me greatly. How could he just act like that…! This was no laughing matter, for fuck's sake!
"You could've died!"
"I'm here and breathing, aren't I?"
"I was beyond worried with you!" The effect I had been hoping for was completely ruined by the tears that were streaming down my face now, uncontrolled, as all of the emotions of the last few hours took a definite toll on me.
"That's your problem, not mine." Looking at his complacent expression ticked me off to no end. I raised my hand high, ready to slap some sense into him and he looked away from me, obediently waiting for the strike. It never came.
I realized that he had probably wanted me to slap him—he had been saying those things on purpose. He had probably been so scared and surprised himself—not that he would tell me even if I asked him to. Maybe he felt that I had a right to hit him since he had worried me so—which was nonsense, if you asked me. Whatever it was, he just stood there, waiting for the impact.
He flinched visibly when instead of a slap he felt my hand caressing his cheek tenderly. I wanted to make sure he was there, that he wasn't an illusion my mind was showing me just to soothe my angst borne out of a fear I had never felt before. I smiled at his bewildered expression through unrelenting tears as I continued to stoke his cheek. I had been so afraid of losing my only friend, my only companion, the only person who understood me, who knew so much about me and cared enough to stick around me… I had been so afraid…
"I'm-I'm…" I hiccupped pathetically, unable to finish what I was trying to say. "I'm so happy you're okay…"
I retrieved my hand from his face to rub my tears away which—damn them all to hell—didn't stop falling. Annoying, high-pitchy sobs were tearing from my lungs, hurting my throat. All this searching stuff had got to me, truly… It had been almost a decade from the last time I had been so worried. I had thoughtfully kept away from people, not even trying to make friends with anyone and here I was, crying over the boy who was so much more than just a friend. Such a superficial word couldn't even begin to describe what this single mortal meant to me.
I didn't need him to comfort me; I didn't want him to do anything. Damn it, I didn't even want to cry, but I had to. Otherwise my insides might have blown apart.
But when he pulled me to him, hugging me closer to his body and offering his shoulder where I could cry peacefully, I finally felt it dissipating, all of it—fear, anxiety…and insecurity. Because I had someone who would always be next to me, who would always support me… even though we were both wounded and damaged psychically… He would always be there for me… just as I would be always there for him.
So I cried and cried… for both of us, for both our fears and worries. And, damn it… how revoltingly pathetic it felt…
"We told you we would be talking with her today!"
A cold chuckle made them both freeze with horror. The voice that followed chilled their bones without the air of the breezy night.
"Like father, like daughter, gentlemen. There was no need for me to hear your report to know what her reaction would be. So I just did a small research of my own beforehand and found an associate of her… to wish her a happy birthday!"
"You should know better than acting without orders, sir!" the first man insisted heatedly, always the one to go by the book. He received a cold glare from the bloodshot eyes of the man in front of them.
"And what are you two old farts going to do about it even if I act without orders?" His tone was implying painful consequences for those who betrayed him. They swallowed audibly and took a step back.
"Just make sure your actions are coordinated with the board before you do anything like this next time."
They bid him good-bye, leaving him alone to watch the first-floor hospital room in the lit light of which a boy and girl were entangled in a heap of limbs and mass, a mix of relief and tears. He laughed cruelly to himself at the sight while he retreated further into the shadows.
"This isn't the last time you hear of me, Bulma Briefs… and next time, I'll take everything dear to you."
His callous laughter rang in the dead of the night ominously…
However, there was nothing else behind the idea—no plot, not even a trace of it. I realized that after the first year-long pause I made. That's why I was so depressed and didn't want to continue it. I had thought I had come up with something good afterwards but it proved to be another disappointment. This time, I have the rest of the story planned out. And this time, I'm really going to finish it.
Best regards, Dark Hope Assassin.