Better than me? - Brance oneshots

'cause you don't really hate me

The thing they never tell you about high school is that there's a clear, established social ladder. Positions of status are determined entirely with disregard for grades and morality. If you're too kind, they ridicule you as weak. Demonstrate extraordinary intelligence and you'll be used. Ironic for a learning environment.

For whatever reason, society seemed to throw out all those rules to make an exception for Bruce Yamada: Perfect student, outstanding grades, multitalented, charming, and absurdly kind. Just all-around a good person. Everybody loves him, and the few that don't—either out of envy or spite—are too feeble or afraid of ruining their reputation to express their distaste.

Being on top however did mean associating oneself with those that carry the same prominence, kids who didn't have enough heart to care how they rose above others but only that they had to. Incessant condescending jeers, physical violence, and tormenting people that would so much as look at them the wrong way; Bruce hated it. So, try as he might to avoid those kinds of people, it was inevitable that they interacted with him. That's just how it worked, and life goes on.

This brings them to now, a regular Tuesday in October. Bruce Yamada is accompanied by one Finney Blake, acclaimed science prodigy and math whiz as well as his friend since childhood. Finn was often a target for bullying and it used to worry Bruce to an unhealthy extent but it's better now than in middle school when his face was always blemished with a type of injury. Now with Bruce's popularity extended over him like a protective umbrella, barely anyone wanted to risk getting on his bad side.

Already there was a ruckus from what appeared to be a fight, happening at—Bruce looks at the clock—7:53 in the bright, early morning. Whoever it is is being roughed up badly, the harsh dissonant clang of the metal lockers resounding, but Bruce is just too tired and too occupied with trying to move around the crowd that's observing the altercation to actually take note of who's partaking in it. He succeeds after the somewhat struggle of trying to squeeze past the swarm of bystanders with Finney in tow.

"It's every day with this," Bruce complains as he makes it to his locker, opening it.

Finney makes a noncommittal noise. "That's what happens when you force a bunch of angry, angsty teens into an enclosed space for six hours, five days a week," he states, opening his own locker beside Bruce's.

"I get that, but they can't, like, take a break? Ever?" Bruce inquires whilst pulling out a textbook and notebook from the shelf in his locker. Both books display the word "Pre-Calc" on their covers, a contrast to the "World History" title on Finn's books.

Finn laughs, entertained, "I'm not sure that's how it works, Bruce. It's fifty different kids starting it every week. I doubt they'd all stop fighting for one day. That's," Finn pauses shortly to close his locker after gathering his books, "pretty much impossible for these guys. It'd be a miracle, though."

Bruce tilts his head up thoughtfully. "Yeah, a grace period. How nice would that be?"

"Marvellous," Finn sighs. He jerks his head in the direction of the stairs. "I'm gonna head to class early. Are you coming with?"

Bruce shakes his head, "No, no. I'm probably gonna see if I can get anything from the cafeteria. Kinda skipped breakfast and am regretting it."

Finn nods in understanding. "Sure, catch you later."

Bruce salutes, watching his friend walk up the stairs. When he's out of his sight, he turns on his heel and saunters in the other direction, determined to fulfill his hunger.

* * *

Bruce did end up getting something to eat. He bargained his way into receiving an apple (which was not his first choice, but it was nutritious, beneficial, and tasty, so hey, why not?). Deciding that he had time to linger before he absolutely had to be in class, he went upstairs and into the boy's bathroom.