I don't give a damn about my reputation

He doesn't hate you

Bruce POV

It's been a week since Vance and me

Argued?

Split up?

it doesn't matter. All I know is that Christmas is in 3 days and my match is this evening. I will be spending neither event with Vance. Not by a long shot.

I haven't even practiced this week. My dad thinks I have, but I've just been taking hour long walks. Thinking. My playlist has been on repeat at least 100 times. I know every word to every song. Except one. It hurts too much to listen to.

I need a new mixtape

My feet press softly against the layer of snow as I make my way around the park. A silky cap forms itself on my hair, chilling my scalp to the bone. A winter wonderland display comes into view, the trees seeking shelter beneath their own leaves.

It's basically perfect

By the time I even notice, I've made my way off the snowed path, and back into the streets. I make my way down the sidewalk, just thinking.

I guess I just have to accept I wont ever be happy with Vance

After all

He doesn't want anything to do with me

Vance POV

Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
fuck!

my fists fly against the cold stone. The sound of cracking and crunching echoes down the alleyway, my arms refusing to stop. My skin tears against the wall, collecting within the cracks. A river of red dribbles down the wall, my anger taking over me, and my hands.

a sudden scream erupts from my throat, a mixture of pain and anger.

"Why did you say that Vance!?" I scream, spit flying from my mouth

"Why would you say something like that?" Another crunch echoed as my fist collided with the wall
"Why would you ever say that to Bruce?"

My body suddenly goes dead weight, my jacket dragging against concrete as I hit the floor, a pool of my own blood collecting opposite me.

"Why?" I whisper, "why did you say those things. You fucking idiot."

I lift my hand to wipe away my tears, but I can't feel them.

I can't feel my hands

Or my face

I'm just numb

We still love Bruce? Right?

How could Bruce ever forgive this screw up? He got personal

No! That's not fair, we both said personal things

Not as bad as we said. Plus we strangled him

We make mistakes, we are human

We're a fucking freak show

We can make mistakes

Fucking freak

"Just shut up! Shut up! Shut the fuck up!"

"Wow, calm down loco, I haven't even started talking yet."

My eyes shoot up immediately, a pair of brown eyes staring at me.

"You look a bit injured Rubio, you need help?"

"I don't need nobody's help. Especially not yours, Arellano."

"Look Vance, I'm tryna help you here. la jodiste, gran momento."

"Speak fucking English"

"You fucked up, Hopper. You hurt my friend and so, I should rightfully hurt you. But I won't, Rubio. I'm giving you a chance to sort it out."

"What are you fucking on about? I fucked up. You said yourself. There's nothing I can do. I messed it up."

"Hombre arriba, coño. Bruce has baseball match later today. Be there. That chico amante will appreciate it more than you can know."

With that, I watch Robin walk away, dropping some rubbing alcohol and a roll of bandages beside me.

That guy confuses the fuck out of me

"By the way," he shouts, turning towards me " he doesn't hate you."

Those words felt like bullets as he left me, alone.

He doesn't hate you

He doesn't hate you

For the first time, the voices agreed. They weren't arguing.

I will make sure I attend that fucking game. I will go to that game and watch my Bruce win. I'll go to the Game and tell him I'm sorry.

I will tell him how I truly feel