STUCK AROUND || Bruce Yamada

AVOID

Luna fluttered her eyes to the telephone ringing next to her bed, on her nightstand.
'Hmm?' Luna mumbled, she sat up, the squinted to the gaps of sunlight bleeding through her window.

She picked up the phone. She stood silent, waiting for an answer.

'..hello?' She heard from the phone.
'Bruce?' She asked, immediately recognizing that voice.

'Luna, please don't hang u—'
She hung up, she slammed the phone onto its stand and sighed, rubbing her forehead and groaning.

She remembered everything the letter said, she was infuriated.
The phone rang again, she picked it up— gripping onto it hard.

'Luna, I need to explai—'
She was about to place the phone back, but lord was she dying for an explanation. She held the phone back up to her ear.

'What, Bruce.' She said in a calm tone, the exact tone that makes Bruce melt in his own pile of guilt.

'I- I didn't write the letter.' He said, she of course didn't believe him. Who would?
'Really?' She asked, just not having his shit.

'No! I would never write that to you, please believe me Luna.' He reassured her, she sighed.

'why should I believe you, Bruce?' She said.
'Cause you know me. I'd never be so bold to write that to someone like you.'

She was stressed, but he was right. He knew what would happen if he wrote that, ever.

'Who wrote it then. Hmm?' She relaxed her shoulders.
'I think..' He paused.

He sighed, she heard it. He knew who did it.
His voice got louder.

'I think I know who.' He said, before Luna could say anything— he hung up. She tapped the phone speaker and held the phone up to her ear.
'Hello? Bruce?'

No answer. Static. That brat.
She put the phone down and sighed, walking to the bathroom to get ready.

She was brushing her teeth, Luna.
Her mouth was foamy with the minty paste.

She heard the doorbell ring.
She spit out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth, she grabbed a towel and dried around her mouth as she walked to the front door.

'Yes..' she opened the door, to see Bruce.
'Bruce?'

He walked in and closed the door before she could.
'I think it was lain.'

'You think? Lord, you hung up and walked to my house just so you can conclude that?'

'Maybe I did waste my time, but I also wanted to apologize.' He looked at her.

'Just apologize over the phone!' She grunted, he grabbed her wrist, she turned to him.

'I'm sorry Luna, I saw the tears in your eyes. I never wrote the letter, I never would. Not only cause you'd rock my ass— but cause I care for you.' He spilled out, as she stood still, staring at him and his— pathetic, guilty little face.

He looked up at her.
'..okay?' She said, lightly chuckling.
'Do you forgive me..?' He took a slight step forward. She nodded.

'Yeah. I do.' She smirked.
'Sorry, I just spill like that when I'm stressed.' He looked down.

'It's cute, honestly.' She walked off, his face went red

'CUTE? WAIT!' He shouted, running after her, she laughed.

He grabbed onto her shoulder and turned her around, she laughed until she opened her eyes and realized how close she was to him.

He laughed and let her go.
'You tricked me, you little brat!' She chased after him as he rushed down the stairs.

'Hey, don't kill me! I have baseball practice!
She crossed her arms, smirking.
'I'll let you off, alright?' She waved, walking back up the stairs.

He smiled a bit, leaving.
Although she was still sketchy, it didn't add up— sure. But she knew Bruce didn't write that letter.

She got ready and left for grab n go, where else would her brother be?

As she walked, her shoes clicking as they dropped onto the floor, she glanced at cop cars parked in front of the grab n go.

'Shit.' She muttered to herself, she ran inside and saw her brother— playing as usual.

'Vance? What'd you do!' She ran over to him. He glanced at her, confused.
'What?' He squinted.

'Why are there cop cars outside!' She slapped his shoulder.
'Ow! I didn't do anything, they're just here for coffee!' He turned back to the pinball machine.

'What? Don't they go to that coffee shop around the corner of the station?'

'It closed down.' He continued to play.
'Why?'

'The owner was grieving her son, she couldn't continue to hold up the coffee shop.'

'Ohh.' She looked at him, embarrassed at how scared she got.
'What, you care about me?' He chuckled.
'You cared about me last night when you hugged me—'

He shushed her.
She chuckled, glancing at the pinball machine.

The bell on the top of the door rang, she glanced to see who came in.

Lain.