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They had practiced for hours on end, fighting far into the night by themselves. The grassy plateau that they had trained on had repeatedly become broken with their bodies, punches, kicks, every now and then a few splatters of blood from injuries that went ignored. Once they found themselves unable to even stand, they considered their training done. They both popped a Senzu Bean into their mouths, their fragile, broken bones shaking under their energy, before they laid on the ground in mental exhaustion.
They stayed that way for a while, comfortably apart while the sky slowly faded to the breaking of a sunset.
Yamcha had stood up, giggled and stretched while commenting on how that felt like shit to do, good lord! Tien tiredly snorted at him, shaking his head, "oh, you don't even know the half of it" with that sly grin of his. Yamcha had flicked him off before sitting back on the ground, getting into a banter-y psuedo-argument with him.
They had viewed that sunset, a cacophony of blues and oranges, scrapes of violet and verdigris, together. Tien had commented that it was quite a beautiful thing, especially from a training ground in such a high location. Yamcha agreed, saying something about how he saw a lot of pretty shit back in the desert, before he came to a realization.
This might be the last sunset he ever sees on Earth.
Yamcha kept quiet.
The sunset had eventually faded off, sparkling into hues of the rainbow as the disk of the sun slipped low into the horizon. The temperature dropped, a wind picking up and lifting some poor blades of grass into the air. Tien stood up, stretched much like Yamcha did, and sighed.
".. We did a good workout, Yamcha. Fantastic moves. Maybe not as good as mine, but still, quite commendable," Tien smirked, Yamcha smiling and punching his arm with an "ah, shut up." He still couldn't shake off that last-sunset feeling.
He saw the dark color of Tien's eyes. It pierced him, much like they did when they first got together, but he found himself.. afraid.
Tien's expression suddenly sharpened. "You alright?" he asked in concern, Yamcha stiffening into attention.
"Huh?" Yamcha said before picking his question up, "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. What, do I look bad or somethin'?"
".. No," Tien dragged out, eyes still focused, "you just look really pale." Yamcha's stomach dropped.
For not the first time in his life, he felt like he was running away from an inevitability.
Yamcha gulped. "No-.. I'm fine, Tien. I'm, uh, just tired is all. I'll.. see you tomorrow, right?" he chuckled, nervous as he turned away. He didn't see Tien's face as he turned away, took a step forward but eventually found himself hesitating.
He heard Tien's footsteps step backwards, soft on the grass, before he heard the ever-familiar sound of ki preparing to launch someone into the sky. Yamcha's heart lurched far too fast up his throat.
"Tien!" Yamcha cried out, turning back to face Tien. He was ashamed, the disgust with himself growing into him like daisies.
Tien paused, levitating, looking back at Yamcha. The remnants of the sunset blurred his face into a gentle indigo. Yamcha's stomach filled with loss.
"Tien, I.. I-.. I can't keep- I can't-," he stammered, at a loss for words. His expression of what felt like an eternity of a goodbye kept leaving him speechless. How can you describe the longing mist on fingertips? How do you describe the feeling that the world was going to be drenched in a darkening rain that you couldn't avoid?
How do you describe feeling like you're going to die before it's too late?
Tien stayed levitating in the air, turned to face him. Yamcha couldn't bear to face him like this.
"I feel like something horrible will happen tomorrow," Yamcha finally gulped, a wind picking up around him on the training grounds. Everything around him felt cold with the wind, and he regretted not bringing a jacket. Goosebumps flared up his shoulders and arms, the ground all around him cold.
He felt more words attempt to come out of his mouth but never completely make it.
He couldn't say it. Not those words. Not now, could he? The horrible feeling kept wrenching, it was possibly their demise, or maybe just Yamcha's. Or maybe just Tien's. Maybe just Goku or Gohan or Krillin, wherever they're at.
Yamcha gulped again, throat dry.
There was no question. There was only them on that plateau, alone that night.
Yamcha finally caught Tien's glance. Tien was suddenly much closer than he once was, only feet away from him. Yamcha startled before finding that Tien's glance was full of pain and agony. The dark blue of the whole sky contrasted against the ashen, desaturated pale of his face.
Yamcha's throat constricted.
"If this is it, I just wanted to say goodbye," Yamcha found himself saying quietly, trying hard not to let the constrictions of his throat and chest overwhelm him.
They knew they loved each other, long ago and long before the Saiyans ever came to land on Earth. It wasn't that it was a surprise.
It was that this truly may have been it. Tournament winners, victims and enforcers of cruelty, wiping away the graphite of their own history and writing it now with each other, it could all be wiped away with one blast of bright energy. Yamcha wasn't able to shake off that feeling ever since Goku's death sliced through their lives.
And even now, Yamcha felt the bell of Goku's death ringing in the night, a sign of clairvoyance.
Tien didn't say anything, just standing as another gust of wind blew between them. His eyebrows furrowed as if he was about to start crying. Yamcha could see how hard he was biting his cheek.
Silence reverberated across that tower of land.
".. Goodbye?" Tien vulnerably asked, his third eye beginning to glisten with tears even though his voice was merely trembling. Yamcha's heart ached, pounded in his chest at the sight of it.
Yamcha walked forward, his footsteps cold and hard on the grass, and found himself moving a hand to his shoulder, slowly trailing up to hold his cheek. That third eye was squinted shut, as if trying to stop itself from crying. He felt horrible about everything.
Tien's hands, callous and gentle, held onto Yamcha's arm as he kept close to him. Yamcha could feel his shudders breaking through him, knowing that Tien was just as horrified and afraid as he was. He knew they might not make it out okay, and he knew that their reward may be a straight shot into the darkness.
"Yamcha?" Tien started in the silence, hoarse as he still kept trying to hold his tears in check.
"Yes?" Yamcha replied quietly, cupping his cheek tenderly. Tien closed his eyes, third eye slowly beginning to drop with tears.
He was quiet for a minute, his grip on Yamcha's arm tightening just the slightest bit more.
"I'm surely going to Hell, Yamcha."
Yamcha's entire body hesitated like a stopped clock.
You see, Tien didn't have to say anything more. If he was dropped into Hell and the Dragon Balls were lost, then that was game over for him. There would be no more saving, no more atoning, only hills of needles.
Yamcha felt like ice was crystalizing in his heart and veins. ".. What the hell-.. I..-" he tried to say, but every single word he could've said stopped in his throat. All he could think about was burning hellfire, burning hellfire and Tien's silhouette at the bottom of the red pond.
Yamcha came to another realization.
".. I might be ending up there, too," was all that came mumbling out of Yamcha's mouth. He could barely breathe. It was stifling, as if he was breathing in the rock salt and sulfur already. Tien stiffened, trembling as he slowly began crying without a word.
Tien slowly let go of Yamcha's arm to cling onto him in a hug. He could feel the desperation rolling off Tien in fearful waves, as if he would disappear if Tien let go of him. Yamcha held onto him in return, his hug tight as he felt Tien weep quietly. The sky was still such a dark, vivid shade of blue, slowly pooling into the nighttime void.
"No matter what happens tomorrow," Yamcha said, eyes glazed upwards to the stars that slowly began to poke through the sky, " I'll do everything I can to stay with you. Even if it means burning myself out, I won't give up. Not for the world."
Tien kept crying wordlessly, hands trembling as he gripped at Yamcha's clothes. "If something bad happens and you disappear, you'll wait for me, won't you?" he heaved in his tears. He was begging him.
No matter how much Yamcha had boasted about it in his youth, yes, he was afraid of dying. He hated, hated how much of a young fool he was.
He could never take those words back, because now he very well may have been facing those daisies he bragged for.
Yamcha let the tears burn through his eyelids, embraced the feeling, and exhaled with a longing sense of farewell.
"I'll wait for you until there's nothing left."