BRANCE + RINNEY

its clogging my throat, help me breathe

part 2!
-
"Are you okay Bruce?" Robin's voice was strained with concern, anger as well if you focused on it. Bruce gave a nod and tight-lipped smile. "Yeah, just fine."
-
Vance's breathing was labored, ragged, as he stared at himself in the mirror. He knew he'd messed up, ruined his friends' movie night. His hands were clenched into fists on the counter, hot with the urge to punch in the mirror.

So that's what he did.

Glass shards fell into the sink, the noise echoing throughout the small space. Vance winced as his knuckles stung, blood from them dripping onto the glass below.

The glass was picked up, carefully, and put into the small trash bin by the toilet. Vance sighed and turned the sink on, allowing cold water to seep into his split knuckles.

He should've never touched those damn bottles.
-
Bruce leant against his headboard, eyes closed as he breathed in the vanilla-scented air wafting from the candle next to him.

Finney had told him not to worry. That things would be fine. Vance would be fine.

Bruce didn't know if he should've believed the boy or not. It wasn't that Finn was a liar, or anything of the sort, Bruce was just confused.

He sat up slowly, reaching an arm over to grab hold of the small candle on the bedside table.
The flame in it danced softly, flickering once before Bruce blew it out.
-

Vance knew he needed to apologize.
He needed to right his wrongs.

He hadn't so much as touched a bottle of alcohol since that night. The thought of doing so felt wrong, gross.

He needed to call Bruce.

-

It wasn't cold out, but it wasn't warm.

Bruce's jacket hugged his skin, heat radiating off of it in small waves. Wind brushed over it, overlapping the heat and replacing it with cool air.

Bruce shivered and continued to walk. He didn't have a certain place in mind on where he was going. He just needed to clear his mind. Stop worrying over things he couldn't control, as Robin had put it.

His breathing turned shaky and tears burned in his eyes, disregarding Bruce's attempts to push them away.

Vance rubbed at his arms, hugging himself as wind brushed against him and kissed his skin with frozen lips. He regretted not bringing a sweater.

It was only when Bruce had stepped past the grab n' go, hands balled into fists that sit in his pockets, that he saw Vance.

The boy wasn't looking at him, instead at his shoes which seemed to hold the weight of his actions on them.

Bruce sighed and continued to walk forward, glad that his tears had disappeared from his face.

"Vance." The air was tense, pulled back and forth with an invisible string of regret and sadness. The blonde looked up, eyes locking with the brown ones already looking at him. His breath hitched and he looked back down, shoes scuffing against the concrete as confused words seemed to choke him up.

"I'm-, I'm sorry Bruce. I didn't mean-, the other night I-," Vance frowned, wiping angrily at tears that pricked at his eyes. Bruce stepped closer to him, though he still kept a safe distance.

"I'm not going to say it was okay. It wasn't. But we all still love you Vance. I still love you. It's just-, I don't like you when you're drunk." Vance stiffened as the boy wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close enough to rest his head upon his shoulder.

"I don't like when I drink either." Bruce's hold tightened and Vance let the tears go. He broke down in his boyfriend's arms, and Bruce let him.

-

Bruce was proud, so proud, when Vance remained sober. It was hard. Everyone knows it was. But Vance did it.

And, yeah, he might've sobbed a little bit when he came home one day to a 'sober' celebration. Hosted by none other than his boyfriend and best friends.

-

<3.