Hello! Well, i took a break from writing my AU epic to write this rather depressing little songfic. So if you don't like song fics and if you like happy endings, this story isn't for you. I got this idea like so many of my others, while driving. I usually like to connect my fics, but this doesn't fit into to my main idea of how V/B got together or what happened before Trunks was born. Just a random off-shoot.
As for my little AU, Hope Reborn, I've taken it down to revamp it. Don't be suprised if you see it back up in a few days, completly different than it was before. (i have such a terrible habit of doing that)
Well, i like song fics so here's another one for you. The song is "Spending my Time" by Roxette. Here i go with cheezy '80s pop.
And to any of you who have requested that i write another lemon after reading "The Storm", well...let's just say i'm thinking about it.
Enjoy and I STILL don't own DBZ...but i'm working on it.
~ indicates song lyrics

She had no idea of how long she sat there, curled up in the big armchair in the corner of her room, covered with the old blanket her mother had made her when she was little. She stared at nothing, and saw everything; her cheeks stained with salt from her tears that had dried hours ago. She wanted to cry, but nothing would come.

~What's the time?~

She looked at the clock, it was 9 am. She had been sitting in the same spot for over 6 hours now, cold and alone, unmoving. Standing, her legs screamed with pain. She welcomed it, it was a pain she could handle and understand. She would have rather broken every bone in her body than to endure one more second of her heart ripping in half. She threw back the huge curtains that had shielded her from the cheerful world that lingered just outside the walls.

~Seems it's already morning.~
~I see the sky;~
~It's so beautiful and blue.~

Sun accosted her swollen eyes, telling her than the outside world had not stopped with his departure. Birds sang and landed in the tree branches, her mother mindlessly watered the flowers as she did every morning and Kitty chased a butterfly. Everything was right with the world out there, and that just made her angry. She had spent the past two weeks locked in her room, huddled in whatever corner she could find, crying until her teeth vibrated, and no one understood why. Fed up with the happiness of the world around her, she turned on the TV, hoping to find the usual amount of trailer-trash TV drama and depressing CNN reports of suffering. It fit her mood.

~The TV's on~
~But the only thing showing~
~Is a picture of you.~

Nothing on the TV was as it should be. Every channel she turned to, something reminded her of him. One character on a soap opera had hair the color of charcoal. One man smirked defiantly at the judge in a movie. What was worse than the men that barely even resembled him, were the romantic love scenes that flashed across the cable channels like show-offs. Scenes of a man gently caressing a woman's cheek as the stared lovingly into each other's eyes, passionate kisses at daybreak on a beach, bare hands sliding over rounded female shoulders. As she watched, her skin burned, as if her were touching her right then. But she knew it was all an illusion. Her eyes filled with tears. At the same time, her stomach tightened as she thought of his kisses, the caresses that had made her feel wanted and desired, something she had never felt before. She could smell him then, the musk that belonged to him, that carried an animalistic heat to it, one of longing and passion. Closing her eyes, the tears spilled silently down her cheeks as she turned off the TV. She was about to topple into the abyss of tears and pain, but pulled herself back up by shaking her head violently, her matted blue locks swirling around her head like a cloud. Wiping her tears, she decided that it was time to get out of the room before she went insane.

~Oh I get up~
~And make myself some coffee.~
~I try to read a bit~
~But the story's too thin.~

15 minutes later, she was sitting in the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee and a book from her library. She tried to read it, but the story seemed worn and uninteresting. It was about love. Won or lost it really didn't matter. All stories are about love aren't they? She started to sob silently, her tears splattering on the crisp pages.

~I thank the lord above~
~That you're not here to see me~
~In this shape I'm in.~

If he were here right now, he would look at her coldly and call her weak. He would be ashamed of her. For the first time since he had left, 2 weeks ago, she was thankful he wasn't there.

~Spending my time,~
~Watching the days go by.~
~Feeling so small,~
~I stare at the wall,~
~Hoping that you think of me too.~
~I'm spending my time.~

She had done nothing in those endless weeks but think of him. Every waking moment, every extremely long night, he lurked in her mind. She replayed the moments with him, analyzing everything that they had done, or in the rare moments, said.
She remembered telling him; it was raining that day. Drizzle streaked down the windows, like paint down a wall. Those two words had seemed so simple before, something that she had always pictured herself saying one day to the man she loved. He would look at her with the same loving stare of the man on the TV earlier, and kiss her with tearful joy. But he wasn't the man on TV. He wasn't even close to the man she had imagined herself speaking to. And when she said 'I'm pregnant' he had done nothing but keep his back to her and walk out the door. Trying to stop him, she had told him that she loved him, something she had tried desperately to stop from spilling from her lips. He stopped dead in his tracks for a second before resuming his walk out the door and subsequently, out of her life. He stepped into the gravity capsule and left the planet. She'd had men (Yamcha) go to other cities for a day or two to take some time to calm down, but no one had ever left the planet before. All she could think was 'What did I do wrong? Am I truly that terrible of a person?'

~I try to call~
~But I don't know what to tell you.~
~I leave a kiss~
~On your answering machine.~
~Oh help me please,~
~Is there someone who can make me~
~Wake up from this dream?~

After he had left, she had tried in vain to contact him over the radio, hoping that by some miracle, he would pick up on the other end. There was no answer, no answering machine to leave a message on, just the quiet hiss of radio silence. After that, a lot became a blur. She had somehow ended up in his room, sprawled across still-rumpled sheets, bawling into the pillow. This was the place he first had her. And she couldn't even blame him for what had happened that night. Checking on him after a recent injury, she had let her hand linger a bit too long on his chest, meeting his eyes with need and want in hers. They had kissed then, whose move it had been was long forgotten. The rest was a sensual blur; his passionate perfection mixed with her sense of adventure that continued for hours. Every night for a month it continued, each night more exciting than the next, until two weeks ago.
There had been sex, perfect sex, the kind that she hadn't even hoped to dream about. But entangled in the sheets with them, love had taken hold of her. She saw his pride as what it really was at the core, honor. She could feel his fear before she fell asleep, sense his worry and smell his doubt. It was all so slight, but she could feel it all. But, in spite of all her love, in spite of her intentions, he had still walked away. How much she loved him didn't matter. He didn't care. He didn't want her. She doubted if he ever had. He had used her for his own pleasure, and she had willingly submitted, thinking that it was something more. Now, she was a month and a half pregnant now and he was gone. So much for love.

~Spending my time,~
~Watching the days go by.~
~Feeling so small,~
~I stare at the wall,~
~Hoping that you~
~Are missing me too.~
~I'm spending my time,~
~Watching the sun go down.~
~I fall asleep~
~To the sound of "tears of a clown,"~
~A prayer gone blind.~
~I'm spending my time.~

Later that evening, she sat on her balcony with the same book in her hands, as the sun went down slowly. She hadn't even tried to read any further than the tear-stained page she read over coffee. Staring at the sky, she wondered where he was and if he even cared. She wanted to think that he did, but she knew that he didn't care. She started to cry again, choking his name through sobs: 'Vegeta…'

~My friends keep telling me:~
~Hey, life will go on,~
~Time will make sure~
~I'll get over you.~
~This silly game of love -~
~You play, you win only to lose~

Lying in her bed, Bulma rubbed circles over her belly. She didn't show yet, but she would soon. He had left her with his child; it grew inside of her. She knew it would be a boy, a strong boy, like his father. She could only pray that he wouldn't be as arrogant and cold-hearted as Vegeta. Lying there, with her hand warming her belly, she resolved that it was over. She wouldn't love anymore, it was too painful. She would have her son, and she would raise him to be the Prince his father never was. Her life would be devoted to him, and that would be enough, it would have to be. She had loved, and she had lost. Everyone knew what they said about that. 'It's over' she whispered, as she fell asleep for the first time in days.

Well, what did you think? Before you get mad at me for making this so depressing i have to say that i love V/B romances that make everything turn out great in the end, but i wanted to do something different. And also, i'm not bashing Vegeta, he's my fav charater, i'm just trying to make it real.