Head over Heels || brance

V

Bruce hadn't talked to Vance the rest of the week, in a way he sort of felt embarrassed knowing he went to him for help and that he agreed. Never in a million years would Bruce ever think that Vance Hopper would be his pretend boyfriend. The night after he asked Vance for his help, he laid awake and couldn't sleep. He kept thinking back to the conversation and cringing at the thought that it actually happened.

When Saturday rolled around, Bruce felt like he wanted to stay in bed and never wake up. This was it. The big day where he was going to become a new Bruce Yamada, never before seen or thought of.

The car ride to the field was sickening, Bruce kept his window rolled down to take in as much oxygen then ever to prep himself. His parents sat in the front seat, his mother humming to Stayin' Alive as it tuned softly on the radio. His sister sat beside him.

It took him forever to convince her to come. She never came to his games, not because she didn't want to support her brother but because she didn't want her parents to compare her to him when he hit a home run, plus, in all honesty, she found it a little boring.

Bruce split up with his family to head to the dugout. From his field, he could see Finney's team on the one over. He couldn't see the faces so he had no idea if he was there, if he showed up.

He looked back to the stands, seeing his parents chatting to each other while his sister stared at the field, seeming zoned out. His eyes scanned the rest of the seats, waiting to see if he could see the blonde boy, but he didn't.

He excused it as the game wouldn't start for another twenty minutes and maybe he was just waiting till last minute to show... he better show.

-

The game was tied 2-2, Bruce wasn't doing his best today and already got strikeout two times. He blamed it solely on his nerves, and every time he missed the ball, he would make eye contact with his dad who just had a disappointed face, then he would look in the crowd to see if Vance came, and the first two strikeouts, he never saw him.

The game was almost over and because Bruce usually carried, he was sure they weren't winning this one. Bruce was now a bit irritated and he planned to use that anger in the field. He was mad that Vance didn't show up, he was mad that he wasn't doing his best.

So when he stepped onto the field, he swung his bat in a sharp circle while he got into stance. He held the bat above his shoulder, his knees bent and his eyes narrowed on the ball. It was the same pitcher who striked him out the first time, so he knew his pitch.

The pitcher hiked his leg, and he leaned forward as he tossed the ball in his direction. And with the first swing, the ball bounced off the bat, flying high in the air and curving right into the far outfield. Bruce dropped his bat, running to first, then second, then third, and he looked over his shoulder to see an outfielder grab the ball and prepare to throw it to someone close to home base.

But Bruce thought he could make it, so he ran. His speed was fast and he rounded onto the plate, sliding and hitting the base just before the player caught the ball.

The crowd cheered and so did the team as the referee called game. Bruce stood up, his white pants now red with the dust of the field. He ran to his team who gave him compliments just like every game he won, but this time they sounded so genuine and relieved.

He saw his parents climb off the bleachers, his dad beaming. Bruce grabbed his bag and rounded the corner of the dugout. Just then, he saw Vance standing at the side of the bleachers.

He came.

Bruce looked to his family who watched him but he didn't walk over, instead, he approached Vance.