Chapter Text
Vance Hopper was currently, as his mom would've called it, in a pickle. And it was bad—really, really, bad.
Because he may or may not feel a certain way towards Golden Boy Bruce Yamada. Pinball Vance Hopper who got into fights 24/7, who got arrested and was called sociopathic to a certain extent, felt butterflies in his stomach whenever Bruce was around. How Ironic.
Bruce Yamada who was nice, a great student, the guy who got along with everyone easily and was so disgustingly kind he may have just been too good for the human race. Bruce who was the complete opposite of Vance.
Sure he was nice but that didn’t mean he let his guard down around Vance because in what world would they both want to be friends? He avoided Vance and although they were bound to run into one another at some point he always managed to get away and goddamnit was Bruce good at avoiding people (or maybe just good at avoiding Vance).
Now maybe it pissed him off to be ignored by Bruce but it was for the best as cliche as that sounded but it was true because whatever this was, was starting to get out of hand. A part of Vance was on his knees begging that if Bruce kept avoiding him then maybe, just maybe this was a weird phase in his life where he wanted to be Bruce’s friend for whatever reason and if Bruce kept avoiding him then it’d go away with time.
Except he forgot about how completely one-sided this whole ordeal was and that Bruce’s avoidance only worsened it.
It had reached the point where Vance could sense Bruce’s presence, it was like a Bruce Raydar. If only that had come in the manual for “Vance’s Complicated Feelings.”
Just being in proximity of Bruce made him stupidly nervous. He’d look at his clothes and feel a little embarrassed when he realized the condition his clothes were in. Whatever, it wasn’t like he had the money to buy trendier or newer clothes. He’d run his fingers through his hair and wonder, was his hair okay? Did he get blood in it? Bruce made him get weak in the knees and he hated it, he acted like a stupid school girl.
Running into Bruce was completely different compared to staring at him from afar, because just as quickly as he appeared he would disappear right after. Except there was always a strange tension in the air after Bruce would leave, as if something was left unsaid. Like he needed to say something, anything really but what exactly? They’d never even talked.
Even then how was Vance supposed to figure it out when he couldn’t even blurt out a question and ask if Bruce had yesterday’s math homework even though they didn’t share the same class. Did Vance care? No, of course not he hated math. All he wanted was to talk with Bruce, and that was pathetic enough in itself.
It’s not like Vance had any idea on what was going on, and the “why” in this equation was the million dollar question. He’d never felt this way before for anyone. Maybe a small harmless kindergarten crush on the pretty boy but it had never hit this hard and it was starting to piss him off because he knew damn well it was wrong.
It was like a little pest that followed him around, a constant reminder of how he felt. It was meant to be wrong and it should feel wrong, so why didn’t it?
He hated it, he hated it so much and he wanted it to go away now, to be gone forever. Because everybody knows that Pinball Vance only has one emotion and it’s anger and he wants to keep it that way. This weird yearning to be Bruce’s friend was getting worse before it got better and he was starting to let his guard down near him and it needed to stop.
So who cared when new boy Jaden Myers had moved in from Salem, Massachusetts about a week ago. Who cared when he joined the baseball team and got really close to Bruce within a week or notice how they seemed attached at the hip because not even 7 days had gone by and Jaden Myers had already met Mrs. Yamada? What did it matter to know Jaden Myers loved to play the guitar or that it’d only been 5 days and he was already a school heartthrob and you needed to invite him to every party because Bruce was his friend and everybody likes Bruce.
But Vance cared a whole lot, and maybe a little too much for his own good. He saw how much happier Bruce seemed, he saw it all.
The looks and glances they gave each other and how they seemingly understood each other by eyes alone. How he’d walk to class with Myers right by his side, Bruce was just flaunting the new boy in his face at this point.
And it made him want to scream, shout, and yell until his voice was hoarse and scratchy. Until it really hurt because Myers’ existence set him off.
If someone saw the way Vance gave him death glares, who were they to ask and call him out on it? Jaden “New Boy” Myers' friendship with Bruce pissed him off and he couldn’t emphasize how much he hated not knowing why.
Even when he pondered on it for hours on end and asked himself, “ why the fuck am I so stuck up on Bruce ” he couldn’t provide an answer that was satisfying enough. Even then would he have accepted the truth as is?
Vance constantly thought about the two. During class? They’re probably passing notes and being friendly or whatever friends do. During pinball? He nearly beat his high score but lost because he could’ve sworn he heard their voices outside of the Grab N’ Go. Even when he was thinking about something else he’d find a correlation involving Bruce and Myers.
So he needed something to distract himself and he thought about pinball and fights.
Pinball could only occupy his mind for so long. All it took was one wrong move and next thing he knew the employee on shift left to deal with him was yelling at him for abusing the machine and threatening to call the police because of how damn old the thing is (it’s from the 70s).
Fighting was the only thing left. Now that definitely distracted him but that didn’t mean he enjoyed or even sought them out in the first place.
Sure he had a tendency to go overboard, that he can admit but it’s not like he had his anger on a leash sitting like a well behaved dog. It took him effort not to get angry at someone for the simplest thing. He never really realized how far he’d gone until it ended with him being pulled off of someone and the crowd murmured while police yelled at him.
When he got into a fight he never liked it, it made him feel like his dad. But it was as if he wasn’t himself anymore, like he was on autopilot and he didn’t stop until they forced him to stop.
And then the next day it’s, “Did you hear that Pinball Vance Hopper ...”
“I heard that he…”
“Really? I thought he…”
“Well I was actually there and he…”
“Seriously? I thought he…”
“Well either way, he really needs to control his temper.”
And they piled and piled until he started another fifht. Then he would watch from afar as they told their cautionary tales like he was the boogeyman. Maybe he was the boogeyman, no emotions nor desire, not human. Just a monster.
People just seemed to ignore that yes, words did hurt just as much as actions. But whatever, it’s not like he cared. He didn’t care that people side eyed him, and he sure as hell didn’t pay attention whenever people ran away in fear when he was near.
Alright maybe it did hurt, but only a little! Especially when you’re called a bloodthirsty monster. Some people just couldn’t fathom the idea that Vance Hopper did have other emotions other than anger and was just as human as everyone else whether they wanted to acknowledge it or not.
All he needed to do was just control his anger and maybe then, slowly but surely maybe he’d be less feared. Though things didn’t really go according to plan on Monday.
Maybe it was the fact that it was a Monday or that people were just dicks (probably the latter), either way, he heard a group of boys just talking about him.
At first he didn’t pay attention to them, he was used to it so what did it matter? Eventually they brought his mother into it and at that point he grabbed the nearest empty chair and threw it at them and didn’t stop until security was called and he was in the principal's office with angry parents.
In his defense, they were probably trying to provoke him and if they wanted a reaction he was going to give them a reaction, he also really loved his mom. But, at the end of the day he was always going to be feared and there was no point in changing that.
Eventually he stopped trying to live up to unrealistic expectations and reverted back to his “old ways of beating up everyone who even dared to look his way.” Their words not his.
So there Vance was, in the boys bathroom beating somebody up for picking on Griffin Stagg without fail while everyone chatted outside.
“Pick on Griffin Stagg and next time I won’t be as generous, dickweed.” He crouched down next to the guy and grabbed him by the back of his hair, “Got that?”
He mumbled something incoherent, Vance could only assume he said no or cussed at him, he’d just have to beat him up again.
“What was that? Repeat that shir straight to my-“
“I said, get the fuck off me!” He punched Vance before he could react and got him on the side of his face before Vance fell down on his ass and the other boy got up.
“I dunno why you care about Stagg so much, he’s a nobody .”
Before he got punched in the gut and face. He really doesn’t know what it is with people bringing weapons but the kid pulled out a pocket knife and later slit Vance’s palm before he kicked him in the groin and he went falling down.
Except when Vance got on him and started hitting, he wouldn’t stop until he saw blood. He kept punching and punching even when he heard the door open. He got so caught up in the moment he didn’t even pay attention to the poor soul who had to witness this.
“Next time Griffin comes to me with a bruise on his face and tells me it was you, you won’t even be standing before it happens again.”
The boy under him was trembling, apologizing profusely under his breath. His breathing was uneven, probably ready to knock unconscious if he even closed his eyes.
“Now go.”
He ran out of the bathroom and kept apologizing. Leaving him with the stranger in the bathroom.
“That includes you as well, or do you think you’re too good-“ and the last person he expected to see when he turned around was Bruce Yamada. So what was Vance meant to do when he made direct eye contact with him and couldn’t even finish his sentence.
“To follow…I—uhm.” he tried regaining his composure quickly, “What do you want? Are you just gonna stand there or say something?”
Nothing, Bruce just stood there like a deer in headlights, Vance knew that he’d probably never “attended” a public viewing of him beating someone up so to get a front row seat and see how violent he could really get probably frightened him. He was like a goat when they got scared, they would freeze in place.
“Are you gonna say anything, hello?”
Eventually he got the memo and smiled nervously before explaining himself, “Oh, I was just going to use the uh, bathroom but it seems like you two were sort of… brawling it out to say the least.”
Bruce kept rambling on and Vance stopped listening shortly after Bruce explained that he just wanted to use the bathroom and ignored all the other useless junk of information and instead kind of just observed him.
Vance didn’t know what ghost possessed him to do what he was already doing but God knows he could shut down this conversation if he really wanted to, but he didn’t. And for whatever reason he found some comfort in the way Bruce rambled about anything that came to mind.
So there he stood, just observing him. Bruce kept talking even when the warning bell had rung. Sure he could have blamed it on the 4 hours of sleep he was running on for his weird choice right now but he knew deep down that’s not what it was.
Bruce went off topic and often strayed away from a story to tell another in order to give context. One minute he was talking about how he once befriended a rat but his mom told him to set it free because it probably had rabies, then mentioned how he cried during Ratatouille and somehow brings baseball into the mix and finds a correlation between a fucking rat and baseball.
It truly was an experience, Vance can’t remember the last time he had an outgoing conversation with someone other than his mother. Maybe one-sided but a genuine conversation that wouldn’t end with bloody knuckles.
The more he watched Bruce, the more he noticed the little things he did while ranting. Like how he fiddled with his fingers and how he traced a specific seam line on his left arm sleeve, how Bruce used his hands a lot and played with one particular strand of hair.
It wasn’t until they heard a yell from outside. “Bruce, hurry, we're gonna be late!” And nor even a second later the bell rang. They were late for class. Bruce was the first to start moving and waved goodbye to Vance, “I’ll be right there, Jaden!”
Jaden fucking Myers. Vance moved to leave and Bruce froze up. It was pathetic that such a small action affected him the way Bruce freezing up near him did, truly.
“Forget this ever happened.” He spoke under his breath before rushing out the bathroom trying to avoid Myers. Vance would’ve normally skipped if he wasn’t close to failing the grade. His mom already had enough on her plate, the least he could do was attend class and try not to start fights. Hopefully no one finds out about his brawl other than Bruce.
So he walked the empty halls to his science class until he heard running footsteps behind him, “Wait Vance hold up!”
Turning around he saw a very nervous boy. Not just any boy, Bruce. Just past him was his personal little bodyguard Myers, looking at Vance up and down.
Vance saw some students running late staring at them, but if they knew what was good for them then they’d leave it alone and gossip about it later.
Now it was just all three of them, left in the empty hallway as they stood within each other. Vance could feel his heartbeat go up. “What? I’m running late to class and unless I wanna repeat another year then I have to go asshat.”
“Yeah I completely understand but, you’re still pretty injured and if I were to let you go knowing I could’ve at least helped, it would probably haunt me for days.”
Bruce was basically asking Vance if he could help with his injuries. Willingly. No threat needed.
He’s so kind it makes me wanna gag . “Do I look like charity to you? I can handle myself just fine and what makes you think I won’t just go to the nurse?” Wow, how charming Vance stop fucking this up.
“No I just wanted to help, plus I’m sure you don’t want to have to deal with angry parents and the principal, and the cops, and having to explain the gash on your palm and the bruises.”
He sighed, “Alright maybe you’re right but I’m fine , Bruce. How do I know you don’t want something out of this?”
Bruce seemed disappointed, maybe Vance felt bad but most of the time people wanted something in return and he was done with it.
“I swear I want nothing, okay, maybe I want something in return but I promise no strings attached.”
“Yeah? Well I’m fine, go away.” He didn’t really mean that and maybe they both knew it.
He flashed him a small smile, “Well then, just forget about it.” And he turned the other way. Maybe it was the fact that Myers was there, that instead of walking away with Vance he walked away with him , and there the feeling was once again. Plaguing his mind. This should’ve been the part where Vance was supposed to forget this encounter ever happened and continue his life as normal.
Except he calls out to him.
Yelling at Bruce before he disappeared around the corner, “Hey Baseball Star!”
He turned around confused, because in what world would Vance Hopper call out to anyone and not want to beat them up?
Maybe it was an impulsive decision.
He stepped forward.
Maybe he would regret this. Who was he kidding he probably wouldn’t.
Now it was Bruce’s turn to step forward, “Yeah?”
Vance grumbled, “Just get it over with and then tell me what you want.” With that Bruce gleamed, he could tell he wanted to smile more but didn’t want to make a fool out of himself as he slowly made his way to Vance, making sure to keep his distance.
Even when Vance approved of his presence he was still nervous. Although this was their first interaction one-on-one with no previous conversation prior so it was understandable.
He turned around and spoke to Bruce amidst the awkward tension, “Are you coming or what?” And that was all the confirmation Bruce needed before he jogged up next to Vance’s side without wasting a second more. Maybe Vance should’ve just let Bruce go and went on with life, it was risky.
Bruce had a lot to lose, his reputation. Alright maybe not a ton of things in hindsight but still, it probably wouldn’t make his parents too happy to find out he was hanging out with a juvenile or delinquent (whatever you wanted to call him).
Regret filled his entire body as soon as they reached the stairwell. Somewhere along the lines of, “Bruce hanging out with Vance” turned into, “Bruce and Myers hanging out with Vance.” It was near impossible to ignore him when he talked 24/7. How was this guy even popular? Oh yeah, Bruce.
Bruce rummaged through his backpack before stopping and pulling out a first aid kit, turning to Vance as they sat there in silence not really knowing what to do.
“So uh, what are we doing here?” Myers chimed in. It was a good question really, if it hadn’t come out of his mouth specifically.
“We’re going to end world hunger, what does it look like dumb shit?” He snapped.
“Alright no need to be rude. You’re like a lion y’know? Fiery temper, feared by many if not everyone, hey you even got the hair going on too.” He wanted to rip off that cheeky smile off his face.
“The fuck did you just say to me?” Vance wanted him to go away, he needed him to go. But if he spoke a single word then Bruce would go. And he couldn’t have that.
Maybe it was under the guise of just wanting to use Bruce’s kindness and he wanted to keep running back to him because he knew Bruce wouldn’t deny his cry for help, but he was just so kind and that it made it harder to lie to him.
He needed him to leave without Bruce going in the process, and they all probably sensed it. “Hey uh Jaden, I don’t really wanna make Vance feel overcrowded?” uncertainty wavered in his voice.
His eyes widened slightly, he knew what Bruce was trying to say but wanted to hear it from Vance. “Uh huh?”
“What I’m trying to say is that—“
“Leave.” His voice interrupted Bruce’s and he shot daggers at Myers. If looks could kill Myers would’ve been 6 feet in the ground as soon as he stepped foot on school grounds.
He definitely got the message because he quickly mumbled an apology and quote, “I’ll be in the bathroom and see if I get into a fight.” Finally leaving Vance alone with Bruce, just like he wanted. Alright, even then it was supposed to be them two originally, but he was gone now and that was all that mattered.
He was still angry he tagged along though.
Luck really must’ve not been on his side because they found themselves in an awkward silence. So in a pathetic attempt, Pinball Vance Hopper tried to make small talk with Baseball Star Bruce Yamada.
“Do you like baseball.” It was more of a statement because of course he did, he was the town's baseball star .
Bruce couldn’t help but laugh and for a second Vance didn’t blame him, it was like someone asking if he liked pinball when the first thing you heard about him was ‘Pinball Vance Hopper’.
“Are you trying to make small talk with me?”
“No,” he was very clearly embarrassed, “maybe. So what?”
“Don’t worry, I think it’s nice actually.”
“Me? You think what I did was nice?” A scowl on his face. “A few minutes ago you witnessed me beating the ever loving fuck out of someone.” Vance sucked his teeth when he felt the rubbing alcohol make contact with his wound.
Bruce spoke with caution, “You mentioned a Griffin though, surely he’s important otherwise you wouldn’t have, ‘Beat the ever loving fuck out of someone,’” he grabbed surgical tape and wrapped his palm before continuing, “I think you’re nice Vance Hopper.” And then he looked at Vance in the eyes and smiled.
Fuck.
Minutes passed but the conversation lingered in his mind, nice ? No, no, not possible. Vance solved things with his fists not with a tea party because Vance wasn’t nice.
He grumbled into his knees, before resting his head against the wall. Why did Bruce have to be so stupidly smart that he picked up on Griffin?
Soon enough Bruce was finished cleaning Vance up and they could (maybe) put this behind themselves. Vance wanted to get it over with right then and there and dig himself into a deep hole and bury his feelings.
“What do you want?” His tone was harsh, well, as harsh as he could make his voice out to be. Being mean to Bruce felt wrong right after he had patched him up and told him he was nice.
“Your friendship.”
“What?”
Bruce cleared his throat, “I’d like to be friends with you, Vance.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
Silence.
“For the price of tending your wounds I want to be friends.” And then he smiles, that stupid fucking smile that had Vance wrapped around his finger. Because now he was starting to understand why Bruce was such a heartthrob.
Why, though? He’s Vance Hopper, he’s Pinball Vance Hopper . Who got into fights 24/7, who got arrested, the guy who fought anyone and everyone. Because Vance was just, Vance. He was himself.
And maybe Bruce did see through the facade, maybe he saw through the tough boy act because the porcelain mask broke into pieces and Vance was happy.
Because he finally found someone who wanted to be his friend. Willingly.
“Yeah, um yeah sure.” Then he awkwardly smiled, and then Bruce smiled harder. Like they were little kids without a care in the world. And maybe it was strange for them to have a rather vulnerable moment, here, in the middle of a school hallway on a Wednesday afternoon.
Maybe the realization hit because Vance muttered something unintelligible, even to himself and ran out the school an hour before school was supposed to end. Running wherever his feet took him and found himself in the privacy of his own room beneath the blankets. Blushing like a madman.
Because he had a crush on Bruce Yamada. Pinball Vance, had an embarrassing crush on Golden Boy Bruce because they shared a sentimental moment under a dirty stairwell and a hallway.
Oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.
No, he didn’t. He couldn’t . Because Vance didn’t bat his eyelashes at Bruce, he didn’t kick his feet up and down and twirl his hair, his heart didn’t pound and pound at the sound of his voice; and he definitely didn’t want to scream into and chuck a pillow at the wall because Bruce was just so good looking like the other girls. Except he wasn’t a girl, and he definitely shouldn’t feel this way over another boy.
And maybe this was bad—really, really, bad.