A/N: A little gift, for my friend Asumaaziz. She's a really nice artist, on DeviantArt! :)

Alone:

Yamcha's eyes slowly flit open, as he lay on the double bed of his apartment. Three hours. That was all the sleep he'd gotten. Last night was a desolate jungle of grief and anguish for the once notorious, desert bandit, as the unholy reality smacked him right in the face.

"Bulma." He murmured dejectedly, roving a trembling hand along the hollow, bedside indentation that was once ensconced by the supple frame of his beloved, the luminous joy of his heart. His mind flittered through the myriad treasured moments they'd shared together.

Flashback:

"Yamcha, I won't do it!" Seventeen-year old Bulma Brief protested, vehemently shaking her head, as she edgily looked upon the thousand-foot diameter, kamikaze ride. "You can't make me!"

"Come on Bulma, it'll be fun, I promise!" The teenage boy insisted, gently taking hold of her arm. They were in Dream Land, the greatest amusement park in West City and probably the entire planet.

"That thing doesn't look safe!" She objected. "What if I fall off and die?! Uh uh, there's absolutely no way! I'm not getting on that thing!"

"It'll be fine, babe." Yamcha vowed, smiling benignly and taking hold of her shoulders, as he peered into her beautiful azure pools. "I'll be right there with you, okay? I'd never let anything happen to you."

The young heiress blushed slightly under his intense gaze, as she observed the sparkling radiance in his hazel eyes that vowed no harm would ever come to her, a promise which ran far deeper than just a single, super-terrifying, fun-ride.

"A-Alright." She muttered softly, slowly nodding her head.

As expected, Bulma screeched to high-heaven, as the carriage rapidly flew up at nerve-wracking speeds, only to stop half-way and fall back just as fast. That was when Yamcha gently placed a hand on hers.

"Relax Bulma, just enjoyed the ride." He chuckled, as they abruptly paused mid-air, yet again.

Bulma bared her teeth at her burly beau.

"I swear, I'm gonna kill you, once we get- AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!" The carriage plummeted and despite all her genius, the hysterical heiress was convinced that she was about to fall to her imminent death. Fearing for her life, she interlaced her fingers with Yamcha's and the bandit felt his cheeks flush, several shades of crimson, as he gave her a comforting squeeze. The mere feel of her pearly hands made him feel more alive than ever.

Once the ride was over, Bulma delivered several of her trademark slaps, right across Yamcha's face, yelling and crying, all the while.

"You're the biggest jerk ever and I hate you!" She screamed, in white-hot rage. "I hate you so much! Do you have any idea how badly I wanna murder you, right now?!"

"Come on Bulma, that was so fun." Yamcha insisted, grinning at his spoiled, mewling girlfriend.

"Screw you!" She was about to slap him again, but the ex-bandit took hold of her hand and pulled her into an embrace, before she could issue a protest. Almost instantaneously, he felt her taut body begin to go lax, within his brawny arms and he smirked to himself, shutting his eyes as he inhaled the entrancing scent of her silky, aquamarine hair. He really loved the exhilarating effect he had on her and vice-versa. No matter how irate, the fiery young heiress could never retain her sizzling wroth, whenever Yamcha enclasped her lithe body, inside his.

He smiled lopsidedly at the heart-blossoming memory. Just when had it all ended? When had the inebriating effect of his touch become so plain and dull? When had they begun to drift apart? For years, he'd believed that they would grow old together and laugh, as they sat beside each other, hand-in-hand, watching their grandchildren squabble. But now, she was lost to him, forever. He never believed that their last break-up would mark the end of a relationship that spanned for over a decade, let alone that she would promptly jump into the arms of none other than Vegeta.

"Vegeta." He ground his teeth, hissing the name as if it was cursed, as he clenched his fist around the bed-sheet, where Bulma once lay. Just what did she see in him?! Bulma repeatedly maintained that the Saiyan wasn't as evil as he let on and that there was good in his heart, somewhere beneath the thick, unyielding strata of bitterness, hate and fury. She was determined to thaw the solidified layers of ice that allegedly hampered the 'real Vegeta', to penetrate the impenetrable. As far as Yamcha was concerned, it was a fool's errand.

"There's nothing in his heart but evil and that'll never change!" He'd insisted.

Ever since the boy from the future had warned them about the Androids, nearly every argument they had, revolved around the supercilious Saiyan and that led to several bitter break-ups. Vegeta was most likely innocent in this whole matter, either oblivious or unconcerned, with Bulma's foolish convictions and affections, yet he couldn't help but resent and blame the pompous Prince. If it weren't for him, he and Bulma would still be together, happy and content. But now- now the love of his life carried another man's child, the man he hated most. He let out a dismal sigh of surrender, loosening his grasp on the bed-sheet, before sitting up, back pressed against the headboard. His bed would no longer be radiated with the mesmerizing presence of the one he loved dearest. There were many women out there, eager to bask in the warmth of his company, but they all fell short, not holding a candle, to Bulma. She was the only woman he'd ever love and nothing could possibly fill the hole she left in his heart. Against his very own will, doleful tears began streaming down his eyes, as he realized that he was fated to be alone, forever.

"Yamcha, hey, what's wrong?" Puar was suddenly next to him, offering a tissue, her acute sense of smell, having woken her up, as she detected the heart-rending scent of Yamcha's tears.

"It- it's nothing Puar." He shook his head, furtively looking away.

"I know it hurts, but it'll get better, I promise, so please don't cry." She cut him off, placing a solacing paw on his shoulder, in a gesture of comfort. Her own eyes glimmered with teardrops, as she observed the miserable state of her master and best friend. The feline didn't know the entire story behind Yamcha's break-up with Bulma and her subsequent union with Vegeta, but it still wounded her deeply, to see him this way.

Yamcha wiped his eyes clean and forcibly smiled at the floating fur-ball.

"Sorry, I don't want to, but I just can't believe she's gone." He muttered, releasing another dejected sigh. "I just- feel so empty, without her, so- alone."

"You'll never be alone, Yamcha." A teary-eyed Puar proclaimed and promptly gird her little arms around his neck, in a heartfelt hug. "You'll always have me."

The ex-bandit remained still, staying silent for nearly a minute, before cracking a tiny hint of a smile, as he placed a hand on the cat's back, running his fingers through her soft, indigo fur. He still felt sad, but her consoling words and warm embrace helped lift his mood, if only a little.

"I know, Puar." He said, at last. "I know I can always count on you. Thanks, my friend."

The feline twinkled and tightened her hold around Yamcha. Yes, she would always be by his side, no matter what happened.

A/N: Heartbreaking, wasn't it? Poor Yamcha, but hey, it's always nice to have a loyal friend in your time of need. Some people don't even have that, so it's always good to appreciate the small things in life. :)