I don't give a damn about my reputation

You are everything i need

Bruce POV

I open my eyes slightly, the sound of my alarm ringing in my ears. I yawn loudly, stretching my arms above my head. I immediately pull them back, as a sharp pain shoots up my side.

All the memories of last night start flooding my head. Although, I should say this morning. I find myself smiling at the thought. I glance down at my legs, covered in bruises.

They will be really annoying to cover

I pull the hoodie up slightly, staring at my hips. A few scratches here and there, but the skin seemed less irritated than earlier. I glance next to me, a tall figure laying next to me. I smile at him, planting my fingers in his hair, twirling the individual strands. He moves slightly, burying his face into my side, a hand on my leg.

I turn away for a moment, looking around for my clock. I see it placed on the floor, the time reading 7:02 am

That leaves me with an hour or so to get ready for school. I pull back my cover, sliding around Vance and planting my feet in the floor. I stand up but immediately fall to my knees. They hit the floor with a 'bang', making Vance shoot up from my bed. He turns his head towards me, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Bruce, darling? Can you walk?" He asks, already by my side.

"Apparently not," I laugh, a weak feeling in my legs. I attempt to stand up, but end up on the floor again.
Vance places his hands around my waist, hoisting me up.

"Alright then. I'll help you get dressed, until you get some strength back," he giggles, placing a soft kiss in my nose. He helps me walk towards my wardrobe. I point at the clothes I want as he grabs them from the coat hangers. He places an arm on my door handle, assisting me towards my bathroom.

"I need to wash my hair, Vance" I comment as he sits me down on his lap. He grabs a towel, shampoo and conditioner from the cabinet, placing them next to me. He pulls the hoodie off of my body, placing it next to the door. He smirks as he examines the bruises on my body.

he grabs a bowl from the cabinet, filling it with hot water. He carries it back and places it on a wooden stool. He pulls me towards him, dipping his hands in the water. He runs his hands through my hair, wetting it in the process

I giggle at him. "Vance, I don't need you to wash my hair,"

"You can't walk, Brucey. I'm helping you wash your hair," he laughs, grabbing the shampoo and conditioner, squirting some in his hand. He runs it through my hair, gathering the loose strands into a slight Mohawk.

"Vance, I'm not having a Mohawk for school," I state bluntly, glancing back at him

"But it looks fucking awesome," he pouts, flattening my hair. He runs more water through my hair, washing the shampoo and conditioner away. He grabs the towel, ruffling my hair with it, water flying everywhere

"Vance!" I giggle, slapping his arm, in an attempt to stop him from making a mess

"There, done. It'll dry on its own."

I lean back against his chest, looking up at him. He look down at me, his freckles visible to the eye. I lean upwards, and peck his lips. He stares back at me, his face unchanged. His eyes drift down slightly, his hand grasping my own. He interlocks our fingers, his expression remaining unchanged. He pulls our hands towards his lips, planting a delicate kiss on my knuckles.

"Vance," I whisper "can I ask you something?"

He looks at me, his eyes bright.
"Yeah, anything Bruce."

"Earlier. You said to me. That I don't know how long you've wanted this." I see him avert eye contact, his face flushed pink

"What did you mean by that?"

He avoids my eyes for a while, his leg bouncing beneath me.

He's nervous

He licks his lips slightly before speaking

"I meant. I've wanted to do that. I've wanted to. Kiss you. For a long time"

I stare at him for a second, my mind firing away like clockwork

A long time? How long? Why me? How did he realise? Why did he say earlier?

"I refused to believe I could like a. Guy. For ages. I didn't wanna be seen as a fucking faggot. But, I always noticed you, Bruce" he continues

"Ever since I first saw you. Ever since I started thinking about what it meant to 'like' someone. Ever since I was 14. Bruce."

14?

For 3 years?

"Why?" I ask, placing my free hand on his leg "why me, Vance?"

He shrugs his shoulders at me

"What's not to like? I mean. You have great skin. You hair is soft. Your lips are soft. Your smile. Fuck your smile," he laughs, thinking about what to say next

"You play baseball, you get good grades, people adore you. You are perfect, Bruce. With a bright future. I'll admit, I was jealous of you at first. That you got a better start than me. It fucking pissed me off," he laughed
"you were so perfect, that I thought. You would never even look at me. That night I saw you in the street. I saw your. Perfect face and your perfect hair and I wanted that. It angered me so much that I nearly hit you. But then you spoke to me, and you were kind to me. Something no one has ever done. You are that perfect, that you were willing to help a violent, aggressive. Asshole. Even though you knew you could have gotten hurt"

I stay silent at his words. I know he has more to say

"You wrapped my hands in bandages, healed the wounds, and then thanked me for not hitting you. I genuinely think I fell for you right there and then," he smiles sweetly at me, resting his forehead against mine

"You are everything I need. Bruce. I know it's sappy and shit. But I mean it. I trust you. And I'm willing to have slurs shouted at me if it means I can see your perfect face and smile, everyday"

I giggle at his words, sweetly kissing his lips

"Don't embarrass me," I laugh "you'll make me go red"

We both burst into laughter at my comment, holding each other close.

"Come on then, let's get you dressed"