I could see it happening gradually through the years we were together. Her interest in me was slipping away, and as much as I tried to hold on to her, she needed freedom. I know what sparked her interest in me at first. I was grossly uncivilized, an outlaw, wild and free. I was a dangerous man, and she loved danger. Yes, more than her attraction to me was her attraction to the unknown and unpredictable. I fit that bill when we first met.
She took me in as a sort of project, I think. True, I was her boyfriend, but she was determined to socialize me so I could fit in with everybody else. At first I was reluctant. After all, I really liked the life I had before I met her. I was the desert bandit! People feared me. I was tough and I lived without rules. I was my own boss, and I wanted to keep it that way. Not have anyone else telling me what was right or wrong. So, I resisted. But I could only resist so long…
She had a way of making me calm down inside. I felt it happening, but I didn't mind that much, I found. Actually, it became rather enjoyable. The better I fit in with the rest of society, the happier she was with me. Why wouldn't I want that? I could give up my wild ways if it meant she would love me more. She took away my fear of girls – something I am grateful for to this day – and gave me a new life of comfort. Sure, I'd liked roughing it out in the desert, but what was that compared to a warm, comfortable bed every night and clean clothes every day? Not to mention I had a full meal three times a day and a loving girlfriend on my arm. It was pure bliss for a ruffian like me.
So I guess you could say she took the wild man and tamed him. I became domesticated. Or, in layman's terms: whipped. I would do anything to please her, whether it meant changing my life for her or giving up everything I knew and loved in a heartbeat just to be with her. She was my everything. I wanted to please her in every way possible. For the first couple years we were really happy together. We were in love. It was childish love, I see that now. But at the time it felt so real we were sure we'd be together forever. How foolish.
I don't really know when it happened. When she lost interest in me. I know we had a lot of rough patches in our relationship. It was on-and-off constantly, so no one, ourselves included, ever seemed to know what our status was. But through it all it was assumed we would eventually kiss and make up and stop our quibbles and settle down together. That's what I was hoping for, at least. I don't think she was ever truly content with that plan. She was far too independent to ever want to be tied down to one person.
Especially someone like me.
Who knows how our relationship worked as long as it did? We were so different it's hard to see how we were ever together in the first place. She was rich, I was poor. She was beautiful, I was average. She was a genius, I was only street smart. She had it all together, I was a constant mess. She was in control, I let her take it. She wanted adventure, I wanted to take it easy. No, we were never really meant for each other. We came together out of a mutual loneliness and it just seemed like the most logical thing for us to date since we were of roughly the same age and all. And there was attraction. Oh yes, definitely. I was enchanted by the blue-haired beauty. And she was taken with the wild desert bandit.
Not Yamcha. Never me.
Years went by and we were still an on-again, off-again couple that everyone was beginning to think would never mature enough to commit to one another. I kept hoping, but she kept resisting. When I died, I thought that was it. All our chances were forever gone because there were no dragonballs to wish me back. But then, the unexpected happened. Despite the rocky road our relationship had been on just before the fight with the saiyans, my wonderful girlfriend decided to risk her life to bring me back by going to Namek to use their dragonballs. I knew I would be brought back and we would finally get married and have a happy family.
But, that was just a wish that would never be granted. While I was away, she met a new man. Someone much more her type. I never would have believed it had anyone told me at the time. I would have laughed in their face. I was so blind. Maybe if I'd cared to open my eyes I would have been able to stop it from happening. Probably not. I just wasn't her type anymore. I'd long since given up the part of my identity that she found most appealing. I wasn't dangerous and mysterious anymore. I was just plain old Yamcha.
The day I came back from the dead, the other man left. I, like everyone else, thought he would be gone for good. I mean, why would he ever want to come back to this 'pathetic mudball' when he had a whole universe to roam free in? I didn't notice at the time how upset she was after his sudden departure. I had no idea she was starting to consider him anything other than a rude asshole.
The next seven months passed without incidence. We slipped back into our old routine of casual dating, wild nights of romance, and empty promises of eventually marrying. By the time the other guy came back, I knew her interest in me was so far gone there was little hope of me ever igniting any fire of passion in her heart again. Still, I wasn't willing to give up. Yes, I was domesticated. And I was loyal, maybe to a fault. I couldn't leave her, no matter how bad we were for each other. I think by then she only stayed with me out of habit. I didn't care.
When he came back, I wasn't too happy, but it was as if a new life had been breathed into her. Her old spunk that I thought had just been dulled by age returned with a vengeance when he was around. The fire in her eyes burned brighter every time they got into one of their legendary verbal spars. He had a wit to match her own, and she loved it. Not many people were ever able to keep up with her brains. As the days and weeks passed, I could feel jealousy spreading through me every time I saw them so much as glance at each other. I could practically feel her slipping out of my grasp. It hurt worse than anything I'd ever felt before.
I wouldn't give up though. No way, especially not to him. He didn't deserve someone like her. He was a monster. I tried harder to spend more time with her, but it seemed that the harder I tried to improve our relationship the further she distanced herself from me. I even confronted her about it, but she denied doing it. My heart was breaking and she didn't care. She didn't have eyes for me anymore. Only him. I'm not sure if she even knew it yet.
He wouldn't ever reciprocate her interest. That's what I kept telling myself as weeks turned into months. He was a cold-hearted killer, incapable of feeling love. And I knew she would never go for someone who wouldn't love her in return. That was, perhaps, the only thing I still had going for me. I loved her so much it hurt. I wanted to make her happy. Hadn't I already done enough for her? I'd given up my old life, I'd changed to be what she wanted me to be! I let her domesticate me. That's where I went wrong. She completed her project and was ready to move on to a new one. She set me on a shelf with all her other successes and sought a new challenge. She found that challenge in another man. Hardly even a man. A saiyan.
Several months after he returned from his extended leave in space, she finally did it. The unthinkable. She broke up with me. It wasn't that abnormal for us, considering the history of our relationship. But I knew in my heart that this time it was different. This time it was for real. We weren't just 'taking a break' or anything like that. She had moved on. I wasn't a part of her future anymore. Depressed? Heartbroken? That doesn't even begin to cover how I felt. I loved her with a love that would never die. She had me wrapped around her finger. I was like a puppet to her, and I didn't know how to live without her controlling me anymore. I depended on her.
Was that why she finally gave up on me? Was I too clingy for her taste? That's one explanation I've come up with. But I think the real reason is I just wasn't wild enough for her. She was more interested in the saiyan. He wasn't just wild, he was feral. Untamable. She knew as well as I did that she would never be able to control him. She thought she was a free spirit, but she was nothing compared to him. The only person who'd ever controlled him was the only one who was ever stronger than him with the power to put him in his place. And now that that person was dead, he was never going to bend to another's will.
I hated him for that. I hated him for killing me and for being stronger physically, but this was one offense I could never forgive. How dare he steal my girlfriend away with his exotically good looks, rude behavior, sharp tongue, and general lack of civility? She loved it. She loved the unpredictable. He was the embodiment of it. She could try for years and never manage to domesticate that saiyan. So she shoved me into the past and chased after him, despite the slim chance of him ever giving her the time of day.
I held onto the hope that he would reject her and she would realize her mistake and come back to me. I had my arms held open for her, but she never ran into them with an apology on her lips. She could look right through me and never know I was there. I meant nothing to her anymore. The only thing that interested her was the wild saiyan prince.
It went on like that for a few more months, with her shamelessly hunting the saiyan and him unabashedly shrugging off her affections. It made me furious to see it when I visited her. She would hand out compliments to him until it made me want to gag and he would only reply with some biting remark that left her practically in tears. Didn't he see what he was doing to her? Didn't he care? I should have known better. He didn't have a conscience. Of course he didn't give a damn about her feelings. But what he hadn't anticipated was her determination to get what she wanted.
One day when I went for another visit, hand holding a dozen roses for the woman I still loved, I knew things had changed between them. She accepted the roses and put them in a vase, but I could tell the gift made her feel awkward. I'd come to beg her to give our relationship one more try, but it was no use. She was too far gone. I could just tell by the way she looked at me. I could see pity in her eyes. It made my heart shatter all over again.
Some days I went to Capsule Corp to train. I wanted to stay close to her, at least physically, even if we were separating emotionally. I'll never forget one such day when the saiyan took his training in the gravity chamber too far and made the whole thing blow up. I heard the explosion and ran to see what happened, but before I got there I was joined by her. She was running as fast as I was, but unlike me, she was horrified to see the result of his training. Secretly, I was glad it happened. I wanted him to get hurt. I didn't care how.
But she wasn't happy. She ran to the pile of rubble and started digging to find the saiyan, fearing the worst. She leapt back in surprise when he pulled himself out, but ran to his side to help him when she saw how badly hurt he was. All I could do was stand aside and watch. It was terrible seeing her blatant concern for him, and yet he still tried to brush her aside, refusing to let her care for him. When he lost consciousness, she was finally able to get him inside to the infirmary where he could be nursed back to health. I wished he'd killed himself. I hated that she was so worried about him. I hated that I could see her giving her heart to someone else, someone who would never feel the same way about her. I knew that day that she was never going to turn back to me. She was in love with him. And he would never bore her. Not like I did.
It was the hardest thing in the world for me to let her go. I wanted her to be happy, honest I did. But I wanted her to be happy with me. Why did I have to allow her to tame me? Why couldn't I be more like him? Why did I have to give into every one of her whims so easily? If only I had been able to hold her attention. If only…
We were never meant to be. I realized that too late, after I'd already given her my heart. The saddest part was, she would never give it back. I clung to the last shred of hope that he would never love her. If she had to be happy with someone else, it could be with anyone but him. Anyone! It would still hurt, but I couldn't stand the idea of her being with him. I hated him more than anyone else in the world. It made me sick to think they might ever be together.
The impossible happened, though. I'm not sure how. No one knows how except them. After months of pursuing him, he finally gave in. He admitted in some way or other that he cared for her, too. No one ever saw any affection between them. Their relationship basically only existed behind closed doors. And out of that relationship came something I'd always wanted with her. A son. His son. It was maddening. I knew that he would never make her happy like I would. He would never be a father to their son, he would never care about her like I would. I hated him for giving her something I never could and not even care!
Mysterious as their relationship had been before her pregnancy, it became even more unorthodox after. The verbal feuds they were famous for became more intense and venomous, and for once everyone started to think they really meant what they said. We could tell neither of them was happy, if they ever really had been. It made me furious to see him hurting her, but there was nothing I could do. I was completely out of the picture by then. I was just another bystander. Just the abandoned pet.
I wanted to tell her 'I told you so.' But that wouldn't have made anything better, so I held my tongue. I just tried to be there for her when she needed a shoulder to cry on. When I saw the look in her eyes when she spoke about him, though, I could tell she still loved him. As unhappy as she was, she was still in love with him. I feared she always would be, even if he didn't love her anymore – if he ever did.
Against all odds, after the whole Cell fiasco, they seemed to finally mesh together. He still seemed cold and abrasive when anyone else was around, but with her, he was different. He was no less the dangerous, hot-tempered saiyan, but he was almost civil. Almost. She hadn't succeeded in taming him. He would never be tamed, that much was obvious. That's why she stayed with him despite their fights. He satisfied her in a way I never could.
He would never be what I was. Domesticated. Boring. Forgotten.
A/N: Just a short take from Yamcha's POV. I actually feel a little bad for his character. It's not like he had a chance once Vegeta came into the picture. Anyway, I was wondering if, instead of leaving this a single one-shot, I should do a series similar to Surrogate Father, except the stories being glimpses into Vegeta and Bulma's strange relationship through Yamcha's eyes. What do you think? Give me your opinion. If there's enough interest, I'll go ahead and do it.