Head over Heels || brance

VIII

Bruce heard the car pull up in the driveway. He had spent the hour with his sister and Vance. They had sat on different ends of the couch and Amy had sat on the arm Bruce wanted to rest his elbow on. When he heard a car beep to lock, he turned to his sister who rushed him to sit beside Vance.

Vance sat up straighter, since he did get an ear full from Amy when they returned from the kitchen on how to behave to convince their father. So he sat up as Bruce was pushed to sit beside him, Amy reached over, grabbing Vance's wrist and if it was under different circumstances, Vance would've pulled his arm out of her reach.

She pulled Vance's arm up to sit along Bruce's shoulders, she pushed Bruce over more so their thighs were touching, before she left them alone, she moved Bruce's right hand to rest of Vance's thigh and then she sat in Bruce's old spot, smiling at them as she heard the door unlock.

Bruce swallowed, nervous, his heart thumping out of his chest. His hand felt numb as it sat on the jeans covering Vance's thigh, his face was burning as he felt Vance's arm around his shoulders, and he wouldn't dare make eye contact with his mother when she entered the living room.

There was an odd silence and Bruce forced himself to look at her. She stood in the archway to the living room, holding her purse as she looked at Bruce.

"I didn't know you had company." She spoke, her voice soft. Vance looked over at her as well, not saying anything. Bruce didn't know what to say, and apparently neither did his mother.

Bruce watched as she flicked her eyes between him and Vance, to his hand, to Vance's arm, and then to Amy. His mother cleared his throat.

"Are you staying for dinner?" She asked, looking up to make eye contact with Vance. Bruce looked toward Vance who stared at him before nodding. Bruce turned back to his mother. "Okay." She mumbled, walking out of the room.

Amy looked at them, giving a smile and a small thumbs up before standing up and leaving the room as well.

Bruce redirected his attention to the television. His hand hadn't left Vance's thigh and he slowly was not feeling uncomfortable with the placement, his hand felt warm and a bit tingly still. For a moment, Bruce thought Vance was going to move, say something snarky and push him off him, but instead, his arm still hung on Bruce's shoulders as he leaned onto the arm of the couch, his other arm, loosely sitting on top of it.

Bruce felt comfortable.

He would never admit that, especially to Vance, but he felt comfortable in his side.

Bruce's mind, however, was now on a rampage of thoughts about his father coming home.

-

Bruce's father came home as they were eating dinner. Bruce's mother made a simple dinner. Bruce and Vance sat beside each other at the silent table that would sometimes have small talk between Amy and someone (never Vance). When the door opened, Amy was talking to their mother about an assignment at school that she wanted to do at one of her friends house.

Their father came into the dinning room, looking exhausted as he kissed his wife on the cheek and not yet noticing Vance sitting at the table.

Eventually, he sat down, across from Vance as he looked up, his face turned sour. He looked at Bruce and then at his wife.

Bruce watched as she gave him a look and he started dishing his plate. Bruce looked over at Vance who ate his food quietly, not seeming to care about the look his father gave him.

"So," Bruce's mother began, causing everyone to look over at her. "How did you two meet?" She asked, looking at the two boys. Bruce's father cleared his throat before taking a drink of water.

"Um..." Bruce began. He didn't even think of a backstory on how they would've started dating, through all his thoughts, he never thought once about someone asking how they ended up together.

"School." Vance answered, stabbing his food with his fork. "We're in the same math class."

That was a lie. Bruce was in the highest math class, Vance didn't even go to math. Bruce kept quiet, thankful that Vance sensed his problems.

Bruce's mother nodded. "I see." She spoke. The table fell quiet again. Bruce felt like he was going to throw up, his ears were burning and he just wanted to disappear.

He made eye contact with his father across the table, his gaze held a look that Bruce didn't know, a look that felt cold and ugly and it added onto Bruce's building anxiety.

After dinner, Amy helped their mother tidy up while Bruce watched as Vance's personality became something he didn't know. He watched as Vance thanked them for dinner and offered to clean up, even bringing the dishes over to the counter.

"Thank you." Bruce's mother smiled gently at him.

"Um... we're going to go to my room." Bruce spoke before hesitantly grabbing Vance's hand.

"Okay... dear. Keep the door open, would ya?" Bruce's face started to tingle as he nodded and dragged Vance out of the kitchen.

Vance's hand felt soft and warm and it added heat to Bruce's body that felt like a warm hug. As they past through the living room, Bruce made eye contact with his father who sat in his chair.

"Bruce," he began, causing Bruce to stop walking with Vance at his side, their hands still pressed together. "Can I talk with you?"

Bruce's throat went dry and his body filled with nerves. He squeezed Vance's hand without realizing he did so, but he felt Vance squeeze back.

"Sure." He nodded, letting go of Vance's hand. Vance stood their awkwardly, not knowing where to go but Bruce kept walking toward his father.

Vance's presence didn't stop his father from starting a conversation.

"I don't want you bringing your boyfriend in my house." He said bluntly, making Bruce's shoulders tense. "I don't know what I did wrong, but I don't want you... mocking my bad parenting with... him." He looked toward Vance.

"What?" Bruce spoke, his voice quiet. His father sighed, shifting in his seat.

"I just... why? Why are you... why do you like him? What did I do wrong to make you... a-" Bruce didn't want to hear the word come out of his fathers mouth, he knew what word he was going to say, he had heard the word to often recently.

"Nothing," he cut him off. "You didn't do anything, Dad. I don't know why I like him but I just do..." he lied.

"But I don't want you to."

"You don't get a choice. You can't chose, Dad. I chose, and I chose him and I don't want you to hate me for it."

His father didn't look at him, just out the window and sometimes toward Vance who now leant on the archway of the living room, the same annoyed look he always had.

"Well... maybe you're just confused, Bruce. Men like him," he looked at Vance again. "Men who like... men... they won't be able to live the future I want for you. How can you be a star if you're with him?"

"Dad. That... I can still be a 'star' and be with him. Being with him can't change who I become. I'm still the same me I was three weeks ago before you found out." Bruce began waking back over to Vance. "And I'm sorry, Dad, but I'm not ending things with him... also he's coming over tomorrow."

He pulled Vance out of the room before anything else could be said.

"Dammit, Bruce, I wanted to play pinball tomorrow."