Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bruce doesn't remember much.

One moment he was biking home after a baseball match, and the next he was suddenly struggling to breathe. One moment everything seemed completely normal and he was just going on with life and the next he was being pulled into a van in a complete daze.

The next thing he knows, he's being taken down a long flight of stairs.

His first thought was it was his parents. But that would make no sense. The grip on him is painfully tight, and it wouldn't be right for his parents to stuff him into the back of a van. No, whoever was holding him wasn't someone he knew.

So why were they holding him?

Bruce starts to struggle. It's weak, and it's almost laughable how little he can do against his captor, but his mind is still hazy. His eyes couldn't focus on anything and his breathing still felt labored. The smell of rust and dust fills his nose and causes him to cough weakly before he hears a door creak open.

Bruce hears a voice. It's familiar, yet it feels as if it was so far away. He can't decipher what the person says, yet the tone sounds angry. He tries to lift his head to look at whoever was talking, however, the grip on his arms gets tighter and he groans. Without much struggle from him, his body is tossed and he falls onto a thin mattress. A noise of discomfort escapes his lips as he tries to turn, but his body feels too heavy. He feels like he can't feel his legs and his head felt as if it were 50 pounds heavier than usual. His eyes are open, but they can't focus on anything. The wall is dirty, the floor no better. The way that his blurry eyes see the small bits of the sun against the wall gives him enough context clues that there was a barred window somewhere. Yet he didn't hear any noise that could be from outside. There was no feeling of wind, no faint sounds of birds or dogs barking.

Was he in a basement?

The yelling continued and abruptly stopped, and a figure stumbled into his vision before he could hear the slam and lock of a door.

Silence.

Bruce just stares with his half-lidded, hazy eyes at the boots that were before him. Soon, he no longer hears muffled noises but hears heavy breathing. A muttering of some sort. His eyes just stare blankly before he hears something drip and hit the floor. When his eyes flick slightly to see what it was, his eyebrows furrow slightly.

Blood.

He tries to get up again, but his body was too heavy. The person leans against the wall for only a few more seconds before they step towards Bruce, kneeling down and pushing Bruce slightly. Bruce's limp body just flops onto its back, his head pointed towards the ceiling. He feels the person get onto the mattress with him, and he blinks a few times. There's a ticklish feeling at his neck, causing a numb shiver to run down his spine before he speaks.

"Vance?" He croaks out, throat raw. It's silent in the room despite his speaking, and Bruce presumes he had made some sort of mistake.

"Yeah. It's me." The voice, much clearer now, responds. Vance Hopper, the bully of Denver, was the one in the basement with Bruce right now. Neither of them said anything after that. Bruce is too tired and Vance supposedly just doesn't care enough for a conversation.

Bruce just decides to close his eyes and will the headache away with a good rest.

When Bruce's eyes flutter open, the first thing he notices is a man sitting in the corner of the room, staring at him with wide eyes.

Once he realizes he was no longer in his room and that there was a man he's never seen before staring at him intently, he sits up straight and stares with wide eyes. His breathing quickens, his heart races, and he swallows hard. His throat was so dry.

The man looked like he wanted to say something despite the majority of his face hidden by the mask with a wicked smile, yet he didn't. He just sat and stared. The longer that Bruce stared at him, the longer he realized this situation wasn't right.

"You know," The man starts, and Bruce tenses slightly. The man's voice was oddly high-pitched, as if he was in some sort of chipper mood despite the tone of the situation. "You look very pretty when you sleep. Peaceful." He says, and Bruce's stomach twists into an awful, uncomfortable feeling.

"You're the Grabber," Bruce starts, and the man hums, his eyes trailing down slowly. Bruce swallows and brings his knees to his chest, looking away for a moment before looking back at him.

"Is that what they're calling me? I expected more creativity out of... pure little boys such as yourself." The Grabber states and Bruce furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "You know, Bruce, you just have the prettiest eyelashes. Long, fluttery, innocent-"

"How do you know my name?" Bruce says, trying to keep his shaking voice steady. The man stares at him, his head tilting slightly as he looks right into Bruce's eyes.

"And keen on interrupting people, I see." The Grabber's voice sounds perturbed, but Bruce was disturbed to hear a hint of excitement in that tone. "Who doesn't know you, Bruce Yamada? You're the best batter Denver has ever seen. Girls at your school talk about you any chance they get. Despite being such a winner, you never let that ego get to you. Always so kind, so generous - a good boy." He praises, yet the praise causes a bitter taste in Bruce's mouth, and he has to stop himself from physically gagging in order to keep the other man in this passive state.

"If... if I'm good, then you can let me go," he says softly, leaning forward a bit as he licks his lips. "I won't tell anyone. Not my parents, not my friends, nobody. I won't tell a soul, I swear-"

"Sorry, Brucey," The Grabber starts, standing abruptly and causing Bruce to tense and bump his head into the wall. "You're here for a reason. Normally I only keep one at a time. But I've had some... fantasies that I've been wanting for a while. You were the perfect second match." He says, his voice cooing as he speaks. That bitter taste in Bruce's mouth slinks its way down his throat and into his stomach, the sudden urge to vomit violently apparent. "The sunshine to the thunderstorm."

It was the last thing that the man had said before the door was shut, and Bruce heard it audibly lock. After that, the room is silent again, and Bruce just sits there to take in the situation.

He had been kidnapped. That's why he couldn't remember everything that had happened in minute detail. He was drugged, gassed, or something, and that's why he was thrown into this basement so tired. God, if he could have just powered through, he could've gotten out. He wouldn't be in this mess had he just been able to take in everything sooner.

As he recollects everything, he remembers that there was someone else in here with him, trapped. Bruce looks to the other weight that's on the mattress and sees a head of matted blonde curls facing away from him. He gasps slightly leaning forward to try to catch a glimpse of his face. Bruce's hand gently rests on the others arm, shaking softly.

"Vance?" he calls out softly, voice cracking a bit as he tries to keep himself together. "Vance, get up. Please-"

"Fuck off. I let you sleep, dipshit. Leave me alone." Vance's grumpy voice responds, annoyed, yet the malice that's normally in his voice wasn't there. Which Bruce definitely finds odd. Despite everything that just transpired, however, Bruce finds himself letting out a sigh of relief as he grips Vance's arm just a tad tighter.

"Thank god, you're alive." He sighs out, and Vance slowly sits up, leaning against the wall, his head thumping against the cool concrete. At this angle, his long hair falls away from his face, and Bruce can see the stream of dried blood trailing from his nose down past his chin. "Holy shit- Vance, did he... Did he do this to you?"

"Yeah, no shit. Does it look like anyone else could've?" Vance growls at him, and Bruce lets go, reeling back a bit. The venom seemed to be back in his tone the moment he was talking about the man that had put Bruce in the basement. Bruce examines the injury, scanning the rest of the features on the others face.

His nose was swollen, no doubt considering the blood that had clearly been streaming from it earlier. His lip looked busted in two places, and one of his eyes looked to be a bit swollen with a cut underneath it. It was an odd look. It looked as if Vance had lost a fight. And everyone in Denver knows that Vance Hopper doesn't lose fights.

Bruce takes in a deep breath, swallowing hard as his shoulders slump a bit, looking away from Vance's bloodied face and down to his hands.

"Christ dude... It's been two months since you've gone missing," Bruce whispers, somewhat to himself, yet clearly talking to Vance. Vance's eyes open slightly, looking blankly towards the wall across from them and he lets out a forced huff of laughter.

"Has it been two months in this shithole? Feels like it was just yesterday," He utters, his head looking towards Bruce slowly. Bruce looks back at him, and they just stare for a moment before Bruce has to pull his eyes away.

"Town thought that you had just left Denver. Getting away from cops or something. To see you down here... to see you like this is..." Bruce couldn't quite place the words he was looking for.

"Fucked up?" Vance utters, his head turning away from Bruce and back to blankly facing the wall. "Yeah. Yeah, it probably is pretty fucked to see me like this."

The defeated sound in Vance's voice made Bruce scared for his life.

They sit in silence for a short while. Just the quiet sound of Vance's labored breathing and Bruce's racing heart. Two months, Vance Hopper had been trapped in the Grabber's basement. It was a bizarre thought. Bruce almost wishes that Vance did just leave Denver.

"What has he done to you down here?" Bruce's voice is quiet, almost a whisper as he says it. Like he was scared to hear the answer. And truthfully, he was. Did Vance just get beat day after day down here for two months? Was that same thing going to happen to Bruce? Did he really want to know?

Vance let out a bit of laughter, short, yet bitter. He shook his head, his face contorting into a look of hatred as he seemed to conjure up the thoughts of what the Grabber had done.

"Trust me, if I told you, pretty boy, you would be shitting bricks." He says, taking in a deep breath and wincing, one of his hands quickly reaching up and clutching at his chest. Bruce, on instinct, reaches forward and rests a hand on Vance's shoulder. It's immediately shrugged off. "This fucker thinks that he's broken me. Thinks that he's just going to take you now. He's gonna get what's coming to him. He's going to get it." The longer Vance speaks, the weaker his voice gets, and he coughs a few times.

Bruce stares in pity and fear. Whatever happened to Vance for him to not even speak of it was horrifying, but Bruce wasn't going to let it get to him. Not yet. Vance was clearly battered and bruised. He needed a rest. Bruce can easily use this time that the Grabber wasn't in the room to look around.

He stands up, legs buckling slightly as the feeling of pins and needles jab at the lower limbs. He's forced to lean against the dirty wall for a long moment for support before he's able to stand on his own. And so, he finally begins his examination of the room.

There wasn't a lot. A window much too high for him to reach sits to the left of the lone mattress. The Grabber had taken the chair with him out of the room, so Bruce couldn't use that to get up to the bars. Looking right to the left of the bed, he sees a black phone against the wall, and he reaches for it, a glimmer of hope blossoming in his chest.

"Doesn't work, dumbass." Vance's voice calls out, and when Bruce looks over, he sees that the other wasn't even looking at him to know what he was doing. "Shit will ring, but if you pick it up it's just static. Can't make any calls on it either. Shit's busted." He explains in a sour tone, and Bruce stares at him for a second before looking back at the phone. He grabs at it and raises the phone to his ear.

There was nothing. No static, no voice, nothing. He tried pressing the buttons to dial a number, but not even the sound of him dialing could be heard.

"There's no noise. No static, like you said." He says, and Vance lets out another long breath, licking his upper lip and wiping at the dry red blood there.

"Static only happens after the phone rings. And it's only there for a minute." Bruce tries not to let his mind ponder on the fact that Vance's tone wasn't nearly as hostile as before.

The silence engulfs the room again as Bruce sets the phone back up against the wall and heads toward the right side of the room. On the other side of the wall was an ominous toilet just sitting there, dirty and unkept, and it made Bruce gag slightly as he steps away from it. Despite this shitty situation, he's at least glad that there was toilet paper and wipes at their disposal.

He takes in a deep breath before grabbing a few wipes and a bit of toilet paper, opening the top of the toilet and dipping the toilet paper gently into the water before putting the lid back on and heading over to Vance.

"Don't move," he says softly, kneeling down and examining his face again. Now in front of him, he can see Vance much better. Yes, he's bloodied up and bruised, however, he still seems to have kept that charm about him. His eyes were still as blue as before, shimmering slightly at the few beams of sun that shined into the room, his hair, although matted and somewhat greasy, still had some healthy curls going down past his shoulders. Parts of his skin were dirty, but for the most part, it looked as if his body was kept in good condition. He kept himself clean. It made Bruce smile slightly as he brought up a wipe towards Vance's lip.

"What are you laughing at?" Vance asks, not even flinching as Bruce got closer with the wipe in hand. Bruce's smile fades slightly, but only because having to wipe the blood off of the other in this situation wasn't his favorite thing to do.

"I'm not laughing. I'm just... despite being in this situation, you still took care of yourself the best you could. I just... I respect that. If I was trapped here for as long as you, I probably would've given up a long time ago." He says, his voice lowering to barely a whisper as he realizes his words.

He was in this situation now. He was in the same circumstance as Vance. Bruce was just fresh meat now. At some point, the Grabber might take a liking to Bruce and get rid of Vance just to keep Bruce. The thought had Bruce pausing his movements and staring at the mattress with a faraway look in his eyes. The only reason he's able to snap out of it is that he could hear a soft hissing from Vance and feel the other pull away. Bruce forces himself to focus on the task, cupping Vance's face in order to get better accuracy.

"You're not gonna get stuck in here like me," Vance says bluntly, as if he could read Bruce's mind. Bruce stops dabbing the blood with the wipe as he looks into Vance's eyes. Vance, who had originally been looking at him, looks away soon after Bruce looks at him. "This fucker has been getting away with this shit for too long. I'm gonna kill him." Vance says, but Bruce can't help but feel like the sentences were artificial. Like Vance had to randomly come up with them on the spot. But Bruce doesn't think much about it.

"I'm surprised he was even able to get you down here," Bruce says, his voice light as he tries to make some sort of humor of the situation. "The only reason everyone thought you just ran away is that no one would expect the Vance Hopper to get grabbed."

He's met with silence. He expected the lighthearted comment to fall flat. They were in some creeps basement after all, and by the sounds of it, Bruce was going to get the worst of it sooner than later. So he isn't surprised that they're both silent for a long moment. But soon, he begins to hear the other chuckling, and he looks at him with a marginally shocked expression.

"Fucker didn't have it easy, I can tell you that much." Vance starts, tilting his head up slightly so that Bruce could wipe at his neck. Bruce stares for a second before getting to work. "Should've heard him. The moment I realized what was going on, I was punching and kicking at everything I could. That was the day I made that motherfucker realize he picked the wrong kid."

Bruce couldn't help but smile as well, finishing up the cleaning on Vance's neck and allowing the other to lower their head. When Vance does, they lock eyes again, and Bruce comes to a realization he isn't sure he's happy or upset about.

Vance being down here was absolutely horrific. Down here, alone and wondering if anyone was even looking for you must've been a feeling that Bruce was going to get accustomed to shortly. But, in a way, he's somewhat glad that Bruce was down here.

It meant he didn't have to fight this battle alone.

Chapter Text

"What have you tried?" Bruce breaks the silence, looking at Vance's body just leaning against the wall. It was night now, the room extra dark now that there was no sun beaming through the bars of the window. "To get out, I mean." Vance looks over to him, blue eyes still somehow managing to sparkle with the faint moonlight. Bruce looks away.

"Everything. I'm not stupid," Vance says, taking in a deep breath. "Tried slipping past him to the open door. Tried beating him to get out. Thought maybe the fucker was stupid and would've left a working phone down here, but you already know how that goes." He explains, and Bruce looks over to the phone again before looking towards the window. "I learned the hard way that he likes to make people think they have a chance by leaving the door unlocked. Never again."

"How about the window?" He asks, moving to stand and walk towards the bars a bit. "Maybe the bars are loose enough to pull out? Break the window and slip through? I might be thin enough..." Bruce seems to be formulating a plan, and Vance is quiet for a really long moment. Bruce looks back at him, worried that the other had fainted or something along those lines. "Vance?"

"What? Oh, no. I haven't tried the window." His voice is quieter this time, as if he were afraid to speak.

"Why? I bet at least one of these bars is loose, right?" Bruce responds, and Vance is quiet for another long moment before a sigh is heard.

"I uh... I couldn't reach it."

There's silence in the room as Bruce thinks back to the height of the other.

"You know, because of your attitude, I always assume you're taller than most," Bruce says casually, and Vance stands, heading over to him and staring at the window.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Bruce can't help but smile.

"Hey, are you good right now? Think you could lift me up there?" Bruce asks, and Vance looks at him and then to the window again, rolling his shoulders and his neck before motioning Bruce to come closer. Bruce nods and heads towards the other, getting onto Vance piggyback style before slowly climbing up and getting his footing on Vance's shoulders.

They're steady as Vance slowly stands up completely straight, Bruce leaning towards the window in order to ease some of his weight off of Vance.

"Jesus, Bruce, do your parents fucking feed you at home?" Vance asks and Bruce looks down at him with a confused look.

"I'm a solid, like, 125 pounds. Or something like that." Bruce responds, hearing Vance let out a short huff of laughter.

"Shit, carrying you is like carrying a damn princess. You weigh nothing." Vance says as he looks up, meeting Bruce's smile.

"Guess that makes me a good damsel in distress, huh?" Bruce responds, and Vance smirks up at him.

"Would that make me your prince charming?"

Bruce tenses slightly and feels his face heat up before he's looking back towards the window, examining the bars.

They were thick, and as he wraps his hands around the metal and pulls, they don't move an inch. His stomach sinks slightly as he tries each bar at least three times. He slinks his arm past them and knocks on the glass, feeling that the normally fragile material also seems to be thicker than he expected. He swallows hard and takes in a deep breath.

"It won't budge." He calls softly, the joyful tone deteriorated a bit at the realization that another method of escape was cut off. Vance is quiet for a bit before he backs up from the window a bit, helping Bruce climb off his shoulders safely.

"Whatever. Fucker thinks he has us on lockdown, but we're getting out one way or another." Vance says with a shrug. The oddly optimistic words were a nice change of pace from the normally pessimistic Vance, so Bruce allowed himself to smile at that a bit. "Don't let him break you, okay?"

They hear the door begin to unlock, and while Bruce tenses up in fear, Vance quickly brings them somewhat near the mattress and steps in front of Bruce a bit.

As the door opens, the Grabber stands there, his mask void of an expression. However he looks both the standing boys up and down, his eyes unreadable. The Grabber shuts the door behind him, a tray of food and two drinks held in his hands.

"You've been cleaned up," He states, clearly speaking to Vance, who had been the only one who had gotten dirtied to any extent. Bruce's eyes flick to Vance for a second, seeing his angry expression and his chest heaving up and down in large, scary breaths. He looks back over to the Grabber, who had been staring at him intently. Bruce has to force himself to regulate his breathing. "Was it you?"

Both boys are silent as the Grabber steps a little closer, setting the tray down beside him and looking back at them. When nobody speaks, he makes a sudden, threatening movement towards them.

"Answer me." His voice loses it's cool a bit, tone clearly upset as he commands. Bruce can't help when he takes a step back, and Vance instinctively steps a little more in front of him.

"Yeah," Bruce speaks up, surprised that he didn't stutter. "Yeah, I cleaned him up. After you hurt him." He says, taking in shaky breaths. The Grabber stares at him for a long moment, rolling his neck a bit as his eyes never break their gaze. The way he rolls his neck is different from how Vance had done it earlier. The quick stretch Vance had done was nothing like this. The Grabber looked as if he was trying to show off, trying to entice them to do something. Bruce had the intense urge to punch him in the throat, but he sees the Grabber pull out a knife, and his heart sinks.

"I really am sorry, Vance. You know I just do it to discipline you, right? Because I care. I'm just trying to teach you how to be good, you naughty boy." He says, and Vance doesn't look the least bit scared by the blade in the Grabber's hand.

"You know you enjoy when I'm bad, you ugly fucker." Vance utters back, Bruce staring down at the blade with panic in his eyes. Vance seemed to have somewhat fixed his temper since being in here, or that's what Bruce had presumed. Vance had been patient with him. There was no malice in his voice since Bruce had been in here, even when Vance had called him a name. Hell, Vance was even joking around with Bruce. And Bruce understands that the Grabber would insight fear and anger in everyone, but he presumed that Vance would be able to keep some of that calm to not lash out like that.

Despite Vance cursing at him, the Grabber doesn't seem phased. He just stares at him as his head lolls a bit, before he looks at Bruce, his eyes crinkling slightly as if he was smiling underneath the mask.

"I brought you two some food. I made it myself." He states, his eyes trailing down Bruce's body. "But you'll only get it once you do me a favor."

He was clearly talking to Bruce, but Vance is quick to step completely in front of him, getting slightly in the Grabber's face.

"And what would that be, motherfucker?" He seethes at him. The blade of the knife is raised slightly, and Bruce grabs at Vance's wrist, pulling him back slightly.

"I just want to touch Brucey is all. I was busy with errands, so I couldn't get a proper... feel for what my new plaything would be like." He says, and Bruce could feel Vance flex under his grip, so he pulls back a bit rougher, leaning forward slightly.

"Vance, don't." He says, and Vance turns back to him, the anger in his face dissipating into something that was a mix of worry and confusion. "It's... it's okay." Bruce says, his voice shaking as he then looks to the Grabber, whose eyes won't stop looking between the two.

Vance was never someone that could be calmed with just words or even actions. People's actions didn't stop him from beating the shit out of two kids because of pinball. Words didn't stop him from cutting some sort of number combination onto a kid's arm. Vance isn't held down by that. He does what he wants when he wants to do it.

Yet looking at Bruce, hearing his words, and feeling his hand against his skin, Vance stares at him for only a second longer before looking down and away, biting at the inner walls of his mouth as he reluctantly steps aside. Bruce feels a disgusting feeling blossom inside of him when he sees a satisfied glint in the Grabber's eyes.

"Good boy."

That was all it was before the Grabber starts to take steps toward Bruce. Bruce swallows hard as he takes steps backward. As the man got closer, he could smell his scent of what smelled like cologne, and it only made the situation worse. To know that he was trying to smell good in a situation like this made Bruce want to vomit.

Vance looks like he wants to pounce. A wild tiger getting ready to kill its unsuspecting prey. But Bruce just takes one look at the knife that's pointed at his own stomach and takes in a deep breath before looking back to Vance.

He noticed too.

There was nothing that Vance could do.

Bruce's breath hitches when he feels a heavily calloused hand stroke his cheek, and he holds it as he feels the Grabber take in a large inhale through his nose. Bruce can't help himself, he has to close his eyes. He knows it's dangerous to be blind to someone who could harm him at any moment, but he can't help himself. If he closes his eyes, he can at least pretend this is some fucked up memory or intrusive thought.

Suddenly, the hand that had been stroking his face grabs at his throat and pushes him harder against the wall, causing him to gasp and open his eyes wide.

"Hey-" Vance shouts, taking one step closer. But Bruce could suddenly feel the point of the blade dangerously close to puncturing his side, and he feels tears prodding his eyes. On one hand, his brain is telling him that this was going to pass. That if there was pain, it would eventually subside. That's what his father always told him. Mental, emotional, and physical pains are only temporary. It just takes the right person to get over them. But then there was that other part of his brain that was telling him that this was it. That this was the end. It's the part that he remembers screaming at him when he failed to hit the ball twice against Finney. He remembers how he felt he was going to strike out and lose his team the game. As his mind starts to fill with the negative thoughts that he's always tried so hard to suppress, his eyes flick over to Vance, seeing the other staring at him with the most concern he's ever seen before. He's never seen that look in Vance's eyes. Never during pinball, never during a fight. It helped him recollect his thoughts.

They were gonna get out of this.

"You're neck," The Grabber starts, thumbing over Bruce's adams apple as he stares at the soft skin. "Is the perfect fit." He says before he removes his hand from Bruce's neck. Suddenly, Bruce felt like he could breathe. As if all the oxygen he was denied was resurging through his body. The Grabber moves a bit of Bruce's hair from his face before he steps back, staring at the two. He begins his journey to the door, looking back at them once more. "I'll be back later. It'll still be dark out. I would prefer it if you two are awake when I come back. Unless you prefer to be asleep when it happens." He says, staring at Bruce specifically. Bruce didn't have to see the rest of his face to know that the Grabber was grinning.

"Or you could be asleep. Depends on whether you want to be awake or asleep when it happens." The Grabber says. "I hope you boys will be prepared to give me a show."

With that, the door shuts and both boys can hear each other's heavy breathing.

It's silent albeit the breathing. For a long moment, Bruce and Vance just sit there breathing heavily. Bruce leans against the wall, eyelashes sticking together due to tears as he brings a hand up to his throat. Vance's arms have veins running up and down them, hands clenched into fists and his face looks as if he wanted to kill someone. Despite the silence, it came to Bruce's attention that the Grabber was gone for some time. They had to make their grand escape. Plan something, anything.

"Vance," he calls out, his voice a little hoarse as he speaks. Vance looks at him, his expression not softening in the slightest. Bruce has to look away. "He's gone right now. We don't know for how long, but this could be our chance." He says, and Vance's expression changes from angry to somewhat annoyed.

"And do what, dipshit? Wanna try the window again? Oh, maybe we can use our combined strength to bust the door down, yeah? What the fuck do you expect us to do, Bruce?" Vance asks aggressively, and Bruce flinches a few times. He swallows hard, knowing that the situation looked grim. But he wasn't going to give up. He couldn't bring himself to do that. And he wasn't going to let Vance do that either.

Without another word, Bruce walks past him, bypassing the food and heading towards the toilet area, looking around. It was easy to pass the area off as something that had nothing to do with their escape. Bruce saw that. But sometimes the opposite of what you're looking for is exactly what you need, right?

Bruce presses against the walls in the toilet area, searching for anything that could be useful. This had to be some sort of extra, built-in basement in this house. Bruce's place looks somewhat similar. And if his assumption was correct-

Bruce presses against the wall across from the toilet, and he feels the wall give just barely under the pressure. As if he was being deceived by his own feeling under his palm, he presses again, and watches as the wall just barely caves a bit under the weight.

"Vance,"

"Dipshit, did you not hear what I said?" Vance immediately quips back, and Bruce rolls his eyes, looking over to where Vance was. Vance was just picking at the food that the Grabber had given them and occasionally eating a bit of it.

"Vance, come over here, I need your help." He says, and Vance doesn't even look up. When Vance doesn't even respond, Bruce furrows his eyebrows and lets out an annoyed huff. "Vance, get your ass over here."

Vance tenses slightly and looks over to Bruce, whose expression wasn't as hard as his voice led the other to believe, yet Vance just huffs and stands, heading over to Bruce.

"The wall here, it's hollow. Somewhat, at least." He says, and Vance looks at him with a raised eyebrow and a look of straight 'are you crazy'. Bruce can understand why he would think that, but Bruce just takes Vance's hand and presses it against the wall and pushes. "See?"

Vance's eyes widen when the wall moves when his hand presses into it, and he's now using both his hands to push into it a bit. Without much thought, Vance reels his hand back and punches the wall with full force. Bruce stiffens and is immediately looking at Vance's hand to see the damages. Vance shakes his hand a bit as if to shake away the pain, but then his face morphs into complete shock.

"Holy shit," he utters, and Bruce looks to the wall, seeing that Vance was actually able to chip away at it. A smile graces Bruce's features and he looks around. He spots a crack in the floor and follows it, spotting somewhat of an opening in the marble flooring of the bathroom area. He crouches down and picks at it, getting a good grip before tugging upwards, easily picking up the broken floor tile and handing it to Vance.

"This should help. We need your fists just in case we run into him." He semi-jokes, and Vance smirks slightly, shaking his head as he takes the tile and immediately begins to thrust it into the wall. With every thrust of the floor tile into the wall, a bit more of the wall crumbles. Bruce pulls up another bit of the floor, a tad smaller than Vance's piece, before working with Vance on the wall.

They were going to get out of this.

They made incredible work on the wall.

It was a large, gaping hole now. And the more that they had broken through it, the more Bruce could see a new fire in Vance's eyes. A reignited hope that was coursing through his veins and helping him hit at that wall harder with every strike. Bruce had been keeping up with him, his stamina and endurance high despite feeling as if he hadn't eaten in forever.

Both boys tense when they hear the phone begin blaring. Bruce looks at Vance, but Vance's eyes don't look away from the wall.

"It doesn't work."

"But it's ringing."

"I'm telling you, that shit only gives off static when you answer it. It doesn't work." Vance assures, hitting at the wall again and scraping dirt and scraps onto the floor. Bruce just stares at him for a long second before he steps away from the wall, rushing to the phone on the wall that continued to ring. He grabs it and quickly holds it up to his ear, a short 'hello' falling from his lips.

He's horrified, yet not surprised to hear static on the other end.

It was nothing but that. Regular static. It was odd because the static was at different intensities. Sometimes it was louder, sometimes quieter. Sometimes it sounded as if the static was moving fast and other times slower.

Bruce is about to hang up the phone out of anger, but suddenly, the call is ended and the static completely stops.

They hear the door unlock.

Bruce can't help but let the phone fall from his hand as he turns, watching as the Grabber walks through the door.

He looks at Bruce, his mask showing an overexaggerated frowning face before looking over to Vance, who seemed completely frozen in his tracks.

That was the first time in Bruce's life that he had ever seen Vance show genuine fear.

Chapter Text

It was silent for what felt like hours.

They all just stared at each other. Bruce stared from the Grabber to Vance, Vance's wide eyes stared at the Grabber, and the Grabber stares at Vance with a sinful gaze.

Vance couldn't react fast enough when the Grabber suddenly had a hand at his throat.

"I leave for just a minute and this is what you do?" His voice is shaking, like it wants to be innocent sounding yet he was on the verge of sobbing entirely. "Oh, this is the last straw. The good boy will last for months. This is the last fucking straw for you, naughty boy-" His hand gets tighter around Vance's throat, pushing the boy into the wall violently. Vance tries to kick or throw punches, but as no breath can enter or escape his mouth, his hands just frantically try to remove the man's hand from his neck.

Bruce tries to stay calm and collected. Likes to gather his thoughts and keep himself on a steady path when making decisions. All of that is thrown out of the window when he screams and runs at the Grabber, jumping on his back and immediately connecting his fists with his face.

The distraction frees Vance from the Grabber's grip, and Vance buckles to the floor in a fit of heavy breathing and coughs. Bruce doesn't stop. He keeps scratching and punching at the Grabber, a satisfied feeling inside of him flaring up when he hears the Grabber's noises of distress.

Bruce is about to connect a punch straight to the Grabber's left eye when his wrist is suddenly grabbed. The Grabber's head turns and looks at him and Bruce feels his heart stop as he's suddenly yanked straight off his back and his body slams into the hard floor. His skull is the first thing that connects, and his eyes just see flecks of black. His vision swirls and he's taking in deep breaths. He sees the Grabber faintly, staring down at him, his eyes wet with tears and his eyebrows furrowed in a rage Bruce has only ever seen in other people a few times in his life. He says something, but Bruce can't hear it. What he does see is the Grabber lifting a clenched fist, and he just braces for impact.

Instead, he hears the Grabber grunt, and when he opens his eyes, he sees Vance standing above him, staring at the Grabber with angry eyes. The Grabber was holding his cheek tenderly, not looking at them for a long moment.

"Come at me, mother fucker!" Vance shouts, the Grabber quickly scrambling up. Bruce has to blink a few times in order to clear his vision and quickly stands alongside Vance, staring at the Grabber with hard eyes.

He was fully prepared to take the fight alongside Vance against the Grabber. The only way they were going to get out of this was if they were working together.

Vance took the first and only swing. The Grabber immediately grabbed his fist and crushed it in his palm before his legs comes up and kicks Vance straight in the stomach. The impact causes Vance to slam into the wall and hold his stomach, once again struggling to breathe. Bruce stares at Vance for a second before looking back to the Grabber. He only got to see the man for a second before there was a sudden, sharp pain on his left cheek and he was kicked to the ground. He curls slightly, breathing harshly and holding at his cheek. When he pulls one of his hands away to look at it, the entirety of his palm is covered in blood.

Bruce then feels a weight on top of him, the Grabber straddling his sides as he leans close.

"I expected more from you, Bruce. I believed you to be well behaved," The Grabber starts, examining the cut and reaching a hand forward to touch it. "But all naughty boys need some discipline."

Bruce expected a punch or even a stab. He expected to be knocked out cold or just killed on the spot. But suddenly he's put in a chokehold, the blade of the knife held against his throat. His body is forced to lean up against the Grabber, too battered to move away from the rough feeling. He's facing Vance now, who stands against the wall, breathing raggedly. His eyes meet Bruce's wide and fearful ones before looking back at the Grabber, who was silent for a long while.

"You really do things to me, Vance," He starts, pressing the blade a little more into Bruce's skin. "I love disciplining boys like you. Boys who want nothing more than to cause trouble. I planned on killing you after tonight, once I had gotten what I wanted, but what you two have- it was more than I ever imagined." He explains, and Bruce forces himself to listen to the word to understand what the hell the guy was going on about.

"What the fuck are you saying?" Vance starts, voice dangerously low as he stares at the man who holds a knife to Bruce's neck. Bruce feels the Grabber move, feeling him grind slightly against him, and Bruce can't stop the tears from falling out of his eyes.

"The chemistry you two have, it's phenomenal. The way you two fight and help each other-" He stops, leaning down to Bruce and taking in a long breath of his hair. Bruce feels disgusting for allowing himself to whimper. "I can't wait to fucking rip it out of you." He says, then yanking on Bruce's hair harshly. Bruce gasps and tries to move out of the grip, but when he feels the blade gently slide against the sensitive skin of his neck, he stops out of fear for his life. "Brucey, be a good boy and sit on the mattress for me. If you take your eyes off of me and Vance, for even a second, I will cut little Vance up. And Vance," He stops for a second, and Bruce looks to the Grabber just to see that he was looking Vance up and down with hunger lacing his pupils.

Vance takes a step closer, and Bruce feels the hand in his hair tighten.

"One step closer, and naughty boy gets it." The Grabber growls, and Bruce can't help some of the sobs that escape his mouth as he then looks at Vance. Vance is looking at him now, the look in his eyes hard but clearly showing a fear that Bruce couldn't quite place.

"Vance, be a dear and get on your knees in front of the mattress. Hands behind your back."

After the Grabber says that, he lets Bruce go. Bruce rubs at his neck for a moment, feeling for any cuts before he stares at Vance. His first instinct was to run to him, grab at him, feel if he was really there or if the Grabber had murdered him and Bruce was just hallucinating. But he listens to his instinct, and scrambles onto the mattress, back against the wall and knees pulled up to his chest. The never ending shaking that his body goes through could make it look as if he were freezing cold when in reality he was just praying for the entire situation to be over.

He hears boots begin to clank against the floor, and watches as Vance stands at the end of the mattress and sinks to his knees, not making any eye contact with Bruce. Bruce stares confused, unaware of what the Grabber was going to do to Vance and why the Grabber would want him to stare the whole time. Vance then turns, and Bruce can just see Vance's entire right side, and the Grabber stands in front of him.

All of the blood in Bruce's body runs cold when he sees the Grabber begin to unbuckle his pants.

"Bruce, ever wondered what a feisty, naughty boy like Vance would look like with his mouth stuffed full of cock?" The Grabber says, and Bruce stares at Vance and shakes his head, bile forming in the back of his throat. Vance doesn't look up, doesn't look at Bruce or the Grabber. He just stares at the Grabber undoing his pants, his face stone cold and showing no emotion. "Ever wondered what it would be like to have a boy who never fucking shuts his naughty mouth up be forced to shut up? Oh, it's a pretty sight, Brucey."

Bruce instinctually looks away when the Grabber pulls himself out of his pants, and the Grabber snaps.

"Look away one more time, and he gets a cut. Last fucking warning." He says, and Bruce lets out another sob before he looks over, trying his hardest to keep his head still and his eyes on the scene before him. "I want you to see how much of a pathetic little bitch Vance really is. How much of a facade he puts up until he gets what he wants. A juicy cock straight down his throat."

The Grabber doesn't look at Bruce anymore and instead grabs a handful of Vance's long hair and grips harshly. Vance's teeth bare slightly, but he doesn't say a word, and Bruce doesn't know how Vance is able to keep a straight face and not lash out.

"Open wide, naughty boy."

The sound of Vance throwing up and Bruce screaming fills the room as the Grabber whips Bruce with the belt. When Bruce tries to cover one of his sides from the assaults, the belt would strike down onto his other side, causing pain to erupt there once more. Bruce's throat was raw as he screamed, pleading and begging for the Grabber to stop, yet he just kept going. He never stopped. Not when he finally allowed Vance to go to the bathroom, not when Bruce first screamed an apology, and not now. Bruce thinks about what he did to deserve this, what Vance did to deserve this, and his mind comes up with nothing. It goes especially blank when another strike of the belt hits him right onto the laceration that the Grabber created earlier on his cheek, and he howls in pain.

"This is what happens to naughty boys!" The Grabber screams, and Bruce just screams and tries to twist out of the painfully tight grip on his wrists.

"I'm not a naughty boy! I- I'm not! S-stop! Please! I'm sorry!" Bruce knows it's futile, and despite the apology, he receives another strike against his chest.

The Grabber keeps going, and Bruce tries doing anything to retain his sanity. He tries counting and doing math problems in his head. He thinks back to being on the baseball field and getting ready to hit the ball right out of the park. He thinks back to him biking home after the game, getting ready to celebrate the win with his family.

He thinks back to Vance. He hears him throw up another round of vomit into the toilet, and that's what seems to get his mind to relax. It was gross to hear him vomit, but Bruce doesn't mind. He wants Vance to purge what the Grabber put inside of him right out. The sound reminded him that Vance was still alive, still pushing through.

Bruce's glassy eyes meet the Grabber's who still has wet around his eyes. He doesn't say a word, and for a second the Grabber pauses his assault. The second doesn't last long. He raises the belt and brings it back down, harder than all the other hits.

It connects with Bruce's face, and Bruce is completely dazed.

That seemed to be the end of it from the Grabber. He lets go of Bruce's wrists and allows him to lay on the mattress lifelessly, head tilted to the side as his hazy eyes sit unfocused. Bruce hears talking, hears footsteps, but he can't decipher what anything was. Only when he hears the door close is when he realizes that the Grabber was gone. That it was just him and Vance in the room now.

When he sees Vance get close to the mattress, he doesn't say a word. His throat hurt too much. His cheek was pumping in pain as fresh blood began to pour out of it again after the assault of the belt. When Vance sits on the mattress, facing away from him, he can't even bring himself to move to give the boy more space. He doesn't know how much of the mattress he's taking up. Maybe he was on his respective side, maybe he was in the middle, he doesn't know. He felt so small, fragile, worthless. Worthless that he couldn't stop what was happening to Vance and worthless that he couldn't stop the Grabber's endless assaults on his own body.

When Vance eventually lays onto the mattress, Bruce wasn't expecting to feel hands lift him slightly and into a warm embrace. Bruce doesn't quite know what was happening, his eyes stay hazy and unfocused, but he knows that it was Vance that was holding him. And despite everything that had happened, it somehow made him feel better. Safer.

It made him want to cry.

"Vance," Bruce's voice was raspy and weak, and Vance doesn't respond for a long moment, his grip on Bruce getting just a tad tighter at the sound of his voice. Bruce hisses softly, and Vance looks at him before looking away.

"Sorry." He responds, and Bruce sniffles, leaning a little more into Vance as the tears begin to fall again, stinging as a few of them seep into the cut on his cheek.

"No, Vance," he starts, his stomach sinking as his mind recollects everything that just transpired. "I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry for the idea of breaking the wall. I'm sorry for him catching us, I'm sorry for you having to do that, I'm-" Bruce cuts himself off as he sobs, feeling his mind and his hope beginning to crumble. "I am so fucking sorry."

Bruce doesn't curse. It was one of his defining traits that everyone at their school would mention. Bruce Yamada, the winner of hearts, never curses. It was laughable sometimes how he would avoid saying certain things. The worse someone has ever heard him say was "ass", but even then, hearing that was a shock, which is why Vance was surprised to hear him say it earlier.

But now? Hearing Bruce's broken tone, his sobs, his apologies for what he claims he made Vance do, Vance holds Bruce just a little closer, feeling Bruce cling to his vest tightly. It hurt more than he could ever imagine.

Vance imagined he would be able to get Bruce to curse one day. Trick him into saying it, force him to say it, bring up enough emotion one way or another to say it. Vance wanted it to be him that got Bruce Yamada to curse, despite them not even being the best of friends. Vance wanted to be the one to do it because... because...

"Shut up," Vance says, the words holding no hatred or malice in their tone. "Don't say that shit. It isn't your fault." He says, swallowing hard as he looks down at Bruce.

Vance remembers when he was just like this. Curled up on the mattress, the badass facade faded into a weeping boy who just wished that he could go back in time and change everything. He remembers when he felt the strikes of that belt. At first, he was filled with so much hope and strength to get out, but day by day that strength had dwindled. That strength instead felt like it was taunting him, reminding him that he would never get out. He became a hollow shell after that. Staring at a wall or out the window day after day, waiting for the Grabber to come so he would be punished again. Vance never gave the Grabber an easy day, but the Grabber could tell that Vance's strength was waning. Vance no longer looked for a way out, no longer conjured ways to escape. He screamed into the phone that would ring, just screaming for it to shut up and leave him alone. Screaming at the phone to stop taunting him and making him believe that people were searching for him.

Nobody was searching for Vance Hopper.

And then Bruce was brought in, and Vance felt a whole new fire ignite in him.

Vance deserved what was happening to him. He never listened to his parents, he beat the shit out of kids who messed with him or his games, and he was overall the menace of North Denver. He understands why any god would force something like this upon him. But Bruce? For Vance to see Bruce be brought downstairs, drugged and unaware? His once hollow shell seemed to be filled with nothing but anger and vengeance. He tried to fight the Grabber, he had every intention to kill him. He screamed and punched and kicked, but all the Grabber had to do was sock him straight in the nose and daze him for Vance to cease his attempts.

Bruce didn't deserve this. Bruce got straight A's, was on the road to becoming a baseball legend, most certainly going to get a wonderful girlfriend, and was going to live a fulfilling life. Bruce was nice to everyone and everyone was nice to him. People who weren't nice to Bruce Yamada were often called out and beat up for committing such a heinous act. Bruce was the sunshine that everyone wanted to have in their life. Bruce was the only person who gave Vance a chance.

Bruce was in the cellar and was immediately looking for a way out, just like Vance had. Seeing him down here rekindled the hope that Vance once had to get out. And if not Vance, Vance would help Bruce get out. One way or another. Hearing the other's hopeful tone, hearing the lame jokes, it helped Vance realize that if he couldn't get out of this, he wasn't going to let Bruce suffer the same fate as him. He wasn't going to let Bruce suffer like he did. He wasn't going to let Bruce be trapped.

Seeing Bruce like this: broken, shaking, afraid, hopeless... it broke Vance's heart. He wasn't going to let Bruce go through what Vance did. Vance wasn't going to let Bruce give up. Because if Bruce didn't have the hope that they needed, they were both lost causes.

"We're gonna get out of this, Bruce," Vance says, and Bruce looks up at him, eyes blinking at him and still shedding tears. Vance didn't call him a nickname, didn't insult him, and his tone was sincere. "I would do it again if it means that we're one step closer to getting out of here."

He looks away from Bruce, and he could feel Bruce staring at him for a little while longer before eventually his head thumps against his chest, resting there. Bruce's sobs quiet down to soft whimpers, and Vance takes a deep breath as his thumb rubs small, soothing circles against Bruce's bruised arm.

Neither of them say another word as they begin to doze off into their own dream worlds.

Chapter Text

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,”

“Ow- jesus, Vance. Do you think maybe you could channel your anger into something other than adding to the pain?” Bruce utters with a wince, and Vance pulls the wet tissue away from the cut on Bruce’s cheek and utters a quick apology.

It’s quiet after that. Vance just dabbing at the blood similarly to how Bruce had done it when he first got there. Bruce bites through the throbbing pain and forces his mind to forget about what he had to see while Vance stares concentrated on his cheek.

Then he goes a little lower to wipe at the blood that had dribbled down.

His eyes fall onto Bruce’s lips, only because there was blood that had gotten to the corner of it of course.

When Vance’s actions pause, he could feel Bruce’s eyes staring at him, and he looks up at him, hoping that his cheeks didn't turn any shade of rosy.

“Hey,” Bruce says softly, and Vance takes in a breath. “Are you okay?” Bruce’s voice was caring a tender, as soft as a parent would speak to a crying child to console them. Vance normally hates that tone. It was a tone people used to undermine him.

He didn't feel that way with Bruce.

“Yeah,” Vance says simply, looking away from Bruce’s eyes and back at the cut. “Just… forget about what you saw.” Vance feels a sick feeling forming in his stomach.

“I’m… I really am sorry, Vance. If I knew what he was going to do, I would have never suggested it. Hell, if I had just listened to you about the phone, maybe we would've gotten equal-” Bruce’s voice pauses at the same time that Vance’s actions pause. “...punishment.”

“Bruce…” There’s an edge in Vance’s voice, the hand holding the tissue shaking slightly. His eyes feel hot, as if they were burning. “Don't.”

“Vance, I'm not gonna sit here and pretend like it wasn't my fault,” Bruce says, one of his hands coming up and gently grasping at the hand that was holding the tissue. Vance’s breath hitches. “You honestly would be better off if I wasn't down here with you-”

“Bruce, fucking stop.” Vance’s tone is harsher this time, and Bruce completely shuts up. Vance has to take in a deep breath as he keeps his eyes locked on Bruce’s bruised lips. “It’s one thing to apologize, but this fucking shit is not your fault. If you say it’s your fault again, I’ll…” Vance’s voice is shaking as he trails off, his breathing ragged as he shuts his eyes, his eyes only burning more. It was quiet again other than those ragged breaths, but Bruce’s hand still held Vance’s. It was warm, comforting; it helped ground Vance’s thoughts.

“Hey,” Bruce starts, but Vance can't open his eyes. He can't bear to look at what that fucker did to him. “You remember that one time you got into a fight at the park? What was his name? The kid that you gave two black eyes?” Bruce says, and Vance’s eyes open. He just stares down at their laps, his eyes finally allowing tears to fall, yet he doesn't quite feel them.

“Dylan Hepner?” Vance asks, his voice still shaky as he said it out loud. He hears Bruce laugh softly, feeling Bruce’s thumb gently rub his hand.

“Yeah, Dylan Hepner. Do you remember how much he was yelling afterward? I can't see! I can't see!” Bruce mocked the boy's voice. Vance barely remembers what he was fighting him for. He remembers that the kid had insulted him. Saying something that Vance was pretty sure no one else had even heard. What did he say? “I remember hearing one of the hospital guys saying that his eyes were so swollen that no tears could even come out of his eyes. Like, you really messed him up.” Bruce continues, and Vance feels a smile grace his lips.

He remembers now.

“Why… are you bringing this up?” He asks, finally moving his head to face Bruce. His eyes try to avoid the cut, try to filter out the fresh black and blue marks that have etched their way onto the once flawless skin. Bruce smiles at him.

“Do you remember after that, I had taken you to the school bathroom and we washed the blood off your hands? I had some of Robin’s hand wrap at the time, so I wrapped your hands with it?” Bruce says, and Vance recalls the moment. His stomach feels a little fluttery as he nods, the words forming in his head but unable to come out of his mouth. Bruce lets out a short laugh. “I-” He cuts himself off with a little more laughter. “I remember scolding you for fighting him. But not because you actually fought him, but because you were supposed-”

“To meet you at the field that day,” Vance finishes, and Bruce stares at him with a warm, sparkling look in his eyes. “You called me a dickhead for standing you up.”

Bruce tenses slightly and pushes at Vance, his grin getting a little wider. Vance smiles too, the smile fading a bit when Bruce winces at smiling too big.

“I did not call you a di- that,” Bruce says, and Vance smirks, humming and looking away as if he was recalling.

“No, I'm pretty sure you did. Oh, Vance, we were supposed to go on our date at the baseball field, but you fought goblin-looking Dylan Hepner instead, dickhead.” Vance says in a mocking tone, watching Bruce’s face go from smiling to one of shock. Vance stares at him, worried that he had somehow ruined the moment. But then he sees Bruce’s cheeks begin to get a warm shade of red and Bruce looks away.

“Was it… actually a date?” Bruce’s voice is barely above a whisper, and Vance tenses, looking away and taking in a deep breath, feeling his head spin and his throat tighten up.

“I- uh-” Vance tries to conjure up some excuse. But when his brain comes up with nothing, he just lets out a sigh and lets his head thump against the wall. “I sorta just… assumed that… uh,” His voice and words are unsure and wavering, and he feels like such an idiot.

“It better not have,” Bruce says in a stern tone, and Vance looked at Bruce with a shocked expression. Of all people, Vance wasn't expecting Bruce to be- “Because that would mean that you stood me up on our date.”

Vance stares in surprise before he starts to laugh. A genuine laugh. He hears Bruce laugh softly along with him, and for only a moment, Vance is able to forget about the situation they were in. With the mood set in the air, Vance was able to imagine they were just in a pizza place or walking along the sidewalk with one another. For a moment, and only a moment, Vance allowed his brain to think what it would be like to be with Bruce Yamada.

Eventually, their laughter dies down, and an oddly comfortable silence fills the air. Vance hates the fact that they’re still in this god-forsaken basement, but at least they were somehow making a decent time out of it. Bruce stares at the phone, and Vance stares too. He doesn't know how long they had both slept, but the sun was high in the sky, practically highlighting the phone.

“Do you think Billy and Griffin were able to somehow smile before they died?” Bruce’s voice is soft as he stares at the phone, and Vance tenses slightly. He swallows hard, pulling his eyes away from the phone and to Bruce, who looks at him with a somber expression. “Just… in some way, they were somehow able to look at some sort of bright side?”

Vance watches as Bruce’s eyes fill and get glassy, and he swallows hard, looking away.

“Yeah. I’m sure they did.” Vance lied straight through his teeth.

Bruce looks back to the phone, bringing his knees up to his chest and holding them securely with bruised arms.

“You know, this is going to sound crazy, but…” Bruce starts, taking in a deep breath. “I kinda feel like they're with us. Somehow. Like,” Bruce looks at Vance, who spares him a glance. Bruce’s eyes flick down to his cheeks, and it was then that Vance tasted the salt of his tears, and he looks away to wipe them and sniffle. “I feel like they’re trying to help us. Trying to get us out of here.”

It was a sensitive topic for Vance. He could feel his blood beginning to boil.

“Do you remember the phone call that we got right before he had come in here?” Bruce says, and Vance nods, remembering how he felt like his whole world had crumbled within seconds of seeing those eyes staring at him. He remembers how he felt he was going to die. “What if… what if that was them? Trying to call us? Trying to tell us that he was coming? But… but we can't hear them so it’s just static. But they were still trying?” Bruce’s words get a little faster as his voice gets shakier, and Vance feels the intense urge to just pull him close. But he stops himself. He doesn't give in to those urges.

“That’s fucking stupid,” Vance says, but his voice holds no malice or belief. Vance himself doesn't believe the words he just said, because he himself believed the same thing.

The phone rang when the Grabber left the door unlocked and Vance tried to open it. Vance answered the call only to be greeted with static. He went up the stairs and felt what true pain was like. He remembers when the Grabber finally decided to feed him after what felt like forever, and seemed ample to watch him eat and drink the food. Vance had denied letting the Grabber watch, to which the man had finally left. The phone started ringing, and Vance was angry enough to leave the food he was so desperate to eat just to scream into the phone if anyone could hear him. He remembers when he screamed into the phone, asking what the person wanted. He hears the sound of the bottle behind him clink to the ground and the static goes silent.

When he turned around, he saw the bottle laying on the floor, and a horrifyingly familiar white liquid seeping out of it.

The last time he remembered them calling before Bruce had arrived was when Vance was considering ending it all. When Vance finally believed that his life was over and he would just end it prematurely. He didn't want to feel the Grabber’s hands on his body, didn't want to hear the man speak, nor moan. He wanted none of it. When the phone rang as he tried to use the same marble floor that he and Bruce were using, it wouldn't stop. He tried waiting for it to stop so that he could go peacefully, but it just kept blaring. Vance had gotten up and picked it up, his act finally breaking as he slides down the wall, on his knees, begging for an answer. For anything other than static. He remembers screaming Billy’s name, remembers screaming if Griffin was there. But there was nothing but static. That’s when Vance blew up. He screamed and cried over and over again. It felt never-ending. When the static finally stops, Vance had stopped screaming.

He never went through with what he wanted to do.

So hearing Bruce say this now and assume the same thing that Vance had thought of a while ago, it hurt him in a way that he didn't know could hurt. It made him so desperate to be able to see them again. Even if it was just one last time.

“Do you think we’re gonna join them?” Bruce starts, and Vance’s eyes snap to him, watery and wide.

“No.”

“Come on, Vance,” Bruce let out a laugh, but it was bitter, and his face barely resembled a smile. “You said you’ve tried everything, and everything that I've done has only led to you getting more hurt than you were before. You heard it from him. He was planning on killing you. It’s only a matter of time before we’re both gone.” Bruce says, and Vance leans a little closer, moving to look Bruce straight in the eyes.

“Bruce, no.” He says sternly, and Bruce stares at him with a hopeless gaze. “Fuck, Bruce, you're better than this. You’re better than me.” Vance claims, and Bruce furrows his eyebrows at him.

“What?”

“Bruce, you-” he has to stop himself for a second. “You can't give up now. I know it's fucking stupid hearing that come from me, who gave up so long ago, but you can't do that. If you give up, he fucking wins. And I’m not going to let a fucked up creep keep you and I in his stupid, fucked up basement, doing fucked up things to us until he gets bored. You can't let him do this to you.” Bruce stares shocked at Vance’s words but doesn't say a word. Vance just watches as Bruce looks away again, and he feels his heart crack. Vance leans back against the wall again, looking up at the ceiling, trying to remember what a full sky of blue looked like.

“Fuck. Of all the people who could've gotten roped into this mess, I was begging day and night that it wouldn't be you.” He utters, and that gets Bruce to look at him again.

“Why?” Bruce whispers, and Vance shakes his head, taking in a deep, shaky breath. Sometimes he wishes that Bruce could just read his mind, but at the very same time he was so thankful that he couldn't.

“You don't deserve this shit. You don't fucking deserve this shit. You… you’re the best person I've ever seen exist. You’re… of you and me, I deserve to be in here more than you.” He admits honestly, making sure to cut himself off before he had said something he would regret.

“You don't deserve this either,” Bruce says simply, and Vance lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh, cut the shit. I do belong in here. My mom said that it was only a matter of time before something like this would happen to me. She said the Grabber was going to get me because god would send him or some shit. Me? Vance Hopper? Yeah, I can see why I would deserve it,” He says, biting at the inside of his cheek a bit. “I heard what the kids would say at school. They were practically fucking praying I got grabbed. Dylan Hepner? He said that the Grabber liked boys like me. That he got a taste of good boys like Billy and Griffin and wanted a taste of what a bad boy is like.” Those weren't Dylan’s exact words, but Vance hated the sound of slurs too much to bring himself to repeat them.

“I never said or thought any of those things,” Bruce says, his mouth opening to continue, but Vance cuts him off, looking back at him with furrowed eyebrows and tears falling faster than anyone could count.

“Yeah, of fucking course you didn't! Do you know why?! Because you're Bruce-fucking-Yamada. The kindest boy known to man. That’s why you don't deserve to be down here. You could ignore insults from bastards like Dylan. Me? I beat the shit out of him. In front of everybody. I tried to be like you, Bruce. I-I tried. But I wasn't built to be a good fucking person.” Vance feels his mind racing at a million miles per minute, and his heart feels like it was about to beat right out of his chest. “If you heard what he said to me, you would be able to just walk away and to the baseball field to meet me. But me? What he said… I couldn't let that shit slide. I wanted him to feel exactly how he meant those words. I made him pay. That's why I deserve to be down here and you don't. Because you are just a better person, Bruce.”

Bruce stares at him, the words seemingly processing in his head.

“What did he say to you?” Bruce asks calmly, and Vance has to take in a few breaths to calm himself down. Just thinking about the incident makes Vance want to punch Dylan in the face just enough times to leave him on the brink of death.

“He said that the Grabber was going to get you. And that he was going to… he was going to…” Vance stops himself. He can’t repeat it. It blinded him with anger. He doesn't even mention the slur, that didn't matter to him as much as the way Dylan spoke about Bruce.

They’re both silent after that. Vance just trying to regulate his breathing being the only thing that could be heard. Vance flinches when a hand rests on top of his own, and he looks to see Bruce staring at him.

“Vance, no matter what you say, you don't deserve to be down here.” He says, and Vance rolls his eyes aggressively, getting ready to rant again. “The fact that you defended me, willing to do that for me even though you didn't have to? It’s not that you're a bad person. You just know when to teach people a lesson.” Bruce explains, and Vance just stares with a mixed expression of confusion and sadness. Bruce scoots a little closer to Vance, constantly meeting his eyes when Vance looked away.

“No matter what you do, say, think, you do not belong down here. I don't care how many times I have to say it. You don't belong down here, and I'm not going to let you think that. What happened to the Vance Hopper that wouldn't give a shit about how much stronger someone was or how many times he lost? The Vance that would pick a fight with someone twice his size and not bat an eye and win because he was confident in himself?” Vance shakes his head and looks away.

“That dipshit never existed.” He utters, feeling a warm hand on his cheek, pulling him to look back at Bruce. They were close now, body heat radiating off of one another. Vance swallows hard, unable to stop the way his eyes constantly look down to Bruce’s lips and up again.

“Yes, he does. And he was especially there when you first got here. You need to find him again. Because that’s the Vance that I know. That’s the Vance that I…” Bruce pauses, his adams apple bobbing. “That… that I…”

Say it. Say it. Say it-

The door unlocked.

They practically leap away from each other as they stare at the door, their eyes wide and fearful. Vance felt as if he could hear his own heartbeat. When his hand is still warm, he looks down and sees that both he and Bruce were gripping each other tightly, and he looks at Bruce.

Bruce was staring back at him, the same look on his face that Vance had.

When the door finally opens, they both pull away at the same time.

The Grabber stares at them, his mask once again in a neutral state as he holds a tray of food and two drinks again. Bruce swallows hard, and Vance flexes slightly. But he knows his intimidation has gone down. He knows that the Grabber can see the lick of fear in his eyes. He hates it.

“You don't patch people up quite like Bruce does, Vance.” Is the first thing that the Grabber says, and one of Bruce’s hands subconsciously comes up and covers the laceration on his cheek. “But that’s alright. I’ll be sure to give you plenty of practice.”

He steps closer, setting the food by the edge of the bed before stepping to the side, crouching down to their height. They both just stare at him, not a word slipping from their lips. The Grabber just stared for what had to have been a minute before he lets out a sigh.

“You two really are a piece of work, you know that?” He says, looking between the two. “Really, last night? Last night was almost my last straw. I had a very bad day with my errands, and then with the stunt you two pulled? Oh, you two are very lucky.”

Vance wants to say something. Anything. But he’s afraid to open his mouth. His eyes flick down slightly and he feels his stomach churn. He’s afraid that if he opens his mouth, the man would get ideas, and he knows that if today was anything like yesterday, he would break.

“But, despite all that,” The Grabber says, one of his hands inching forward to Bruce’s leg. Bruce instinctively cowers away, which was closer to Vance, and that only makes the Grabber giggle. “You two did phenomenal making it up to me. I really do hope that Bruce had lovely dreams about you Vance. A pretty image like that is hard to not imagine.”

They know what he was doing. He was trying to get a reaction. Trying to get them to do something to be classified as naughty so he could punish them. Bringing up yesterday was an awfully low blow, and it was something that Vance could tell almost had Bruce lashing out. But both boys kept surprisingly calm.

The Grabber just stares at them for a moment longer before he rolls his neck, looking between them.

“I want to see if you two could be good boys for me today. Give me what I want, and I won't lay a finger on you that you won't like.” He says, and Vance wishes he could put himself between Bruce and the maniac. “Could you do that for me? Don't keep me waiting for an answer.” The Grabber’s voice gets dangerously low at the last sentence, which has Bruce flinching and Vance tensing.

“Yes.” They both say simultaneously, which clearly has the man in shock. He stares at them for a long moment again before his eyes land on Bruce, and he barks his first command.

“Brucey, my good boy,” he says, and in Vance’s peripheral vision, he could see Bruce reel back at the comment. “Get in Vance’s lap for me, yeah? I want to see what it would look like for your lithe… pliant body in someone else.”

When Bruce doesn't move, he tilts his head.

“Now.” The Grabber’s voice is sharp, and Bruce shakily starts to move.

Vance knows he shouldn't be, but he’s astonished by the request. He believed himself to be dreaming some fucked up nightmare until there was a warm weight in his lap. He looks up and sees Bruce avoiding his eyes, his cheeks a warm red and his eyes glassy once again. They both hear a satisfied sigh fall from the Grabber’s lips.

“Scoot closer, Brucey.” He says, and Bruce has to take in several shaky breaths before he shuffles a little more onto Bruce, his weight resting on Vance’s upper thighs.

“Closer, my love, don't be shy.” When the Grabber says my love, Vance tenses, and his eyes flick to him, a threatening gaze on his face. But he feels one of Bruce’s hands grab his wrist and he looks at Bruce, seeing Bruce looking at him for a second before he looks away.

“Don't.” He whispers, and Vance just stares for a second.

“I won't.” he utters back, no longer looking in the Grabber’s direction.

“Closer, Brucey. Closer.” The Grabber says, and Bruce is extremely hesitant to move for a long moment before he finally does.

Vance tenses when he feels that warm weight on his crotch area, and a sick feeling bubbling in his stomach.

Not like this. This isn't how something like this is supposed to go. This isn't right.

When Vance hears the Grabber let out a moan, he grips at Bruce’s thighs slightly, just trying to focus on anything other than the sick man who was watching them.

“Just one more request from you two, and I'll be on my way,” The Grabber’s voice is in that innocent pitch again, and Vance realizes that he himself was also trembling. “Just a little kiss is all. Gentle, please. Be… be very gentle with each other.”

Vance knows that his man was sick in the head, and even more so for getting off on seeing two kids like this, but he can't focus on that right now. Not while his heart was beating this wildly.

Not like this.

Bruce’s warm hands cup Vance’s face, snapping him out of his thoughts. Vance stares up at him, seeing the once marginally hopeless eyes suddenly filled with life. Like there was a rekindled hope in his eyes. Vance isn't sure what it was from, but he just knew that it wasn't from this.

No… maybe it was. Maybe it was this right here that helps Bruce want to get out of here.

And just realizing that helps Vance feel that same fire.

They both lean in, their lips close and their breaths being exchanged. Vance’s eyes are half-lidded as he stares at Bruce’s lips, imaging this to be any other scenario. Maybe they were on the baseball field that day. Maybe they were in the bathroom, wrapping his hand. Anything. Anything other than being trapped in a basement and being watched by the Grabber himself.

When their lips connect, it’s the opposite of what Vance ever hoped for. There are no fireworks, he doesn't feel like he’s melting, and it doesn't feel real. It wasn't right. And it lasts for only a moment before broth Bruce and Vance hear the Grabber practically squeal and suddenly stand, beginning to walk to the door of the room before clapping.

“Bravo, bravo. You two would make a wonderful show. Oh my, for once I don't have to call you both naughty boys.” He says, staring at them for a second longer before he opens the door. “Continue being good like this, and I’ll give you a reward.” He says, stepping out and closing the door, promptly locking it behind him.

Vance watches as Bruce looks back at him, clearing his throat before looking away, the blush on his face deeper.

“That uh… that isn't what I imagined ou... my first kiss to be like.” He says softly, and Vance stares in slight shock. He had every right to believe that Bruce kissed someone before. So to hear that he didn't was… it made Vance sad. To have a first kiss go that way? Forced and unwanted? Vance swallows and looks away.

“Me neither.” He says.

Despite the Grabber being gone, they don't move from the position, and Bruce finally looks back to Vance and shoots him a small smile.

“You have uh… you’re lips are mint.” He says, giving Vance a thumbs up.

Vance stares at the thumbs up for a few seconds before he laughs, shaking his head as he stares up at Bruce with warm eyes.

“Shut up, dipshit.”

Chapter Text

Vance can see in his peripheral vision that Bruce was staring at him. Again.

He looks in Bruce’s direction and sees his shoulders tense slightly and he looks completely away. Vance raises an eyebrow, picking at the mattress as he looks away from Bruce.

“What’s on your mind?” Vance asks, his tone softer than he meant for it to be. He mentally facepalms.

“What? Oh, nothing…” Bruce responds, staring at the floor. The conversation stops there. Or, at least it would if Vance wasn't so curious.

“Dipshit, I’m not stupid. I can tell something is on your mind.” Vance starts again, and Bruce takes in a deep breath, one of his hands reaching up and touching his lip. Vance was glad to see that the swelling was going down.

“Just…” Bruce starts, clearly thinking of his next words carefully. “The only way we’re gonna get out of here is if we kill him,” Bruce’s words are a mix of uncertainty and determination. It confused Vance.

“Obviously. Even if we did get out of here without him being dead, I would come back in here and kill him a hundred times over.” Vance says, and Bruce lets out a small huff of amusement, but the conversation dies down again.

That wasn't what Bruce wanted to say.

Vance is pretty poor with social cues, but even he could tell from a mile away that Bruce just came up with something on the spot. Vance lets out a long breath, looking up to the window. The sun was setting again, casting a pretty orange glow in the room.

“Vance,” Bruce starts, and Vance’s eyes land on Bruce again, seeing the other was finally looking him in the eyes. Or, well, they were. They eventually slowly trailed down, and Vance feels his cheeks heating up again. “That… the things that he made us do… it’s not right.” He starts, and Vance takes in a deep breath, hating the reminder that they were forced to do what they did against their will. “But… the last part…”

Vance licks his lips when he hears that, and Bruce bites the bottom of his own, his eyes still staring at Vance’s lips.

“What about it?” Vance asks, his voice a bit breathless as he speaks. He watches as Bruce gets a little bit closer to him, his own body slightly leaning forward.

Bruce doesn't say anything after that, just leaning a little closer. One of his hands rests on Vance’s thigh as his eyes finally look up to Vance, and Vance just stares with the same amount of curiosity and want.

Vance’s hand reaches behind and gently rests against Bruce’s neck, feeling Bruce shiver slightly at the tough as their noses touch. Vance was mentally preparing himself for it. It wasn't going to be like before. No, it wouldn't be forced. This was something that they wanted to do… right?

Vance knew it was something that he wanted, but what about Bruce? Did Bruce want this? Or was there some underlying motive?

Their lips almost connect, but when the door begins to open, they pull away from each other as if they were allergic.

The Grabber’s mask is tilted in its wicked smile, and Vance already feels a sick feeling in his stomach. He remembers the last time that mask was put into its smiling form. He doesn't want to remember.

“You two really are special, you know that?” He starts, and Vance’s hands curl into fists. He couldn't take much more of just hearing the man speak. His eyes look down a little, and he realizes that the Grabber has a chair and a rope in his hands, and he feels his heart begin to wretch. “That show you gave me, oh I was replaying it in my head for hours. I wish I could've recorded it. It was the most beautiful thing,” The Grabber continues, and Vance has to force himself to ignore the words for his mind's own wellbeing.

“What do you want?” Bruce utters out, his knees pulled close to his chest. Closing himself off from the horrible man. Vance remembers when he himself was in that position. He felt pathetic when he had done it, but seeing Bruce dude it out of pure fear elicited a wave of anger within him he couldn’t quite control.

“Oh, something more. You boys have been so good lately, and I’ve been having a hard time. I knew Bruce was well-liked and he would be searched for adamantly, but my, it’s starting to really get difficult to keep you two to myself.” He says, his eyes then flicking to Vance, whose eyes never left him. Vance can practically hear the smirk on the Grabber’s face as he continues talking. “It was nothing like when I took Vance. Not a single soul cared. I heard a rumor about his own parents celebrating. You’d think that Vance would be grateful that anyone would want him, but I suppose not everyone can be a good-”

“That’s not true,” Bruce cuts him off, his voice stern. “That’s not true at all. There were people looking for him, there are people looking for him.” He says, and the Grabber tilts his head at him.

“Now Bruce,” he starts, setting the chair down roughly. The sound causes both boys to jump slightly. “Only naughty boys lie,” His voice was getting angrier now. Vance presumed that was the end of it, but he sees Bruce sitting up straighter in his peripherals, and his heart begins to beat faster.

“And men like you are usually rotting in hell. Looks like not everyone is what you expect,” Are the words that fall from Bruce’s lips, and Vance tenses as he stares at Bruce in shock. The words seem to process in Bruce’s mind too, because suddenly Bruce’s eyes widen and he slinks back again, eyes looking down.

It’s quiet for a long while. The Grabber just stared at them with menacing eyes. Vance can almost completely imagine the frowning mask staring at them instead. He has to take in a deep breath to calm himself.

The Grabber suddenly lurches forward and grabs Bruce by the arm, which has Vance leaping into action. Vance is quick to grab at the Grabber’s wrist, his other hand clenched into a fist at his side. Bruce’s eyes flick between the two, both Vance and the Grabber staring at each other intently.

“Let go,” The Grabber says lowly, and Vance’s jaw tightens slightly, eyebrows furrowing at the command.

“Over my dead body, you fucking pervert,” Vance growls.

“If you say so.”

Bruce is let go and his back thumps against the wall and Vance feels a harsh hand as his throat pushing him towards a wall. His eyes widen as his air circulation is cut off, and he throws punches sporadically. They don't hit nearly as hard as he wants to, because his hands are also attempting to claw at the strong grip on his neck. He can hear Bruce screaming, and can see Bruce weakly trying to stand and get closer, but his vision starts to blur.

This was it. This was where he was going to die.

He really pushed his luck this time. The Grabber already admitted to wanting to kill him earlier and that he was disposable, why would he continue to push it? He couldn't help it really. No matter how much he tried, the anger would get the best of him. Vance’s eyes roll up slightly as his vision begins to darken and the hand around his throat tightens its grip.

“Stop! Please, I’ll do whatever you want!” Bruce’s voice calls out, and suddenly the grip on Vance’s throat loosens a bit. It takes a long moment for Vance’s brain to process what Bruce said. “Let him go and I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want. Please just… don't kill him.”

Vance’s eyes are wide as he looks at Bruce, and Vance is suddenly let go. He falls to his knees, taking in large breaths of air before looking at the Grabber making his way to Bruce. He tries to crawl forward slightly, but his head was still swirling.

“Bruce-” Vance calls out, his voice weak, and Bruce looks at him with a worried expression before the Grabber takes ahold of Bruce’s arm and hoists him up. Vance can only watch as Bruce is thrown onto the chair, and the rope that the Grabber had brought down is being tied around him.

“As much as I love your enthusiasm to help poor Vance out, Bruce,” The Grabber starts, tightening the ropes against Bruce and then turning to Vance. “But Vance hasn't learned his lesson, and naughty boys need to be taught a lesson.”

Vance feels his heart drop.

He knows those words. He knows that tone. His eyes widen and when the Grabber starts to approach him, he subconsciously starts moving back. His back ends up flush with the wall, and he only gets a second longer of some sort of sanity before there’s a fistful of his hair in the Grabber’s fist.

He feels his body be dragged up, and he tries to rebel by fighting back, but a punch to his face practically knocks him unconscious. He blinks a few times, feeling his body be thrown onto the mattress and he feels his heart sink. His hips are brought up, and his eyes well up with tears. He weakly tries to crawl away, but his brain feels as if it was mush. His arms felt like flimsy straws and he could barely breathe. He could see Bruce screaming and shaking his head, jumping in the chair and desperately attempting to free himself from the binds, but Vance knew that there was nothing that he could do. When he felt his belt being pulled from its loops and his pants falling from their original place, he knew that they were both going to be scarred.

This wasn't the first time this has happened, but there was a whole new sense of shame having Bruce see it. Seeing his eyes widen and the way he tries to look away, and the Grabber forces him to look back causes Vance to flush with embarrassment. He would never want to be in a position like this, never be seen in a position like this; yet here he was, barely strong enough to fight back.

In a weak attempt, he uses what feels like his last bit of strength to kick his right leg backward, nailing the Grabber right in the eye. He feels the hands reel away, and he uses that time to pull his pants back to their rightful place, attempting to scoot away as tears fall. He feels his mind start to regress back to when he was younger. When he had accidentally dropped a glass jar and his dad came home to find it. He remembers the way he begged for his dad to stop hitting him with the belt. Seeing the Grabber hold Vance’s belt in his hand, his eyes fueled with sinful anger, Vance almost wished he were just dead.

“Please-” The last time Vance ever felt those words utter from his lips was when he was screaming at his dad to stop. To stop hitting him and that he learned his lesson. He never shouted at the Grabber a plea, never planned to. The fucker didn't deserve any sort of common curtsy. Yet here he was in a corner, trembling and gripping his pants tightly. His head shakes, and he can see Bruce staring at him with the most broken gaze. Vance never wanted Bruce to see him like this. Broken and afraid and begging. It was the last thing he ever wanted Bruce to see.

“Oh, it’s too late for that now, naughty boy.” The Grabber growls, slowly walking back towards Vance with the belt held tightly. Bruce tries another series of attempts to get out of the chair, but all he succeeds in doing is causing the oak to slam against the floor repeatedly. Vance keeps his angry expression, but there was no doubt that fear and regret were written all over his face. “You just never learn. I’m gonna have you screaming till your throat goes numb.”

When Vance is beaten and then thrown onto the mattress, he knows that the claim was one hundred percent true.

Bruce was forced to watch as Vance was raped.

He was forced to watch and listen as Vance’s body was penetrated and the boy screamed. He was forced to hear the disgusting sounds and the painful cries from Vance. At one point, Bruce nearly couldn't take it anymore. For every time he would look away, the Grabber said he would hurt Vance, and Bruce couldn't let that happen. So he was forced to watch. He tried to focus anywhere, but everywhere he looked was awful. He refused to look at where the Grabber and Vance were connected, he couldn't look at Vance’s face or his hair moving back and forth with every harsh movement. He refused to look at the Grabber in any way shape or form.

So he forced himself to settle on looking at Vance’s hands. Vance had given up on fighting back, as there was nothing he could do. So his hands rested on the mattress, gripping at the rotting cloth as if he was still trying to ground himself. As if he were still trying to keep himself sane.

When the Grabber was done, he didn't bother to fix Vance up. Bruce watches as Vance was forced to fix himself, wincing when he saw the Grabber toss the belt back at him and the buckle hitting Vance in the head. Bruce watches as Vance somehow was able to get up and get away from the mattress. The Grabber is careless as he cuts Bruce from the ropes, nicking one of his knuckles. When Bruce is freed, he quickly rushes away from the chair, back to the wall as he stares at the Grabber with hard eyes. The Grabber looks unbothered as he stares at Bruce, his eyes looking him up and down. Seeing what had just happened to Vance, Bruce is sickened to know what that means.

“You two were on such a good track. I almost would've rewarded you two. I might’ve even let you two go if you just did as I asked,” Bruce saw in the corner of his eye that Vance opened his mouth, presumably to call the Grabber out on his bullshit, but he wisely didn't say a word. “But I see now you two don't deserve to be rewarded. You two are nothing but fucking naughty boys who deserve punishment. I expected more out of you, Bruce. But little Griffin and Billy were better listeners than you.” He says, and Bruce’s stomach twists painfully as he thinks about the two boys.

“You knew nothing about them,” Bruce seethes, and the Grabber tilts his head as if he were innocent. Bruce wanted nothing more than to tilt his head to the point of breaking. “Keep their names out of your mouth.” He breathes out heavily, taking another step back.

“The disrespect from you two alone,” He starts, heading towards the door and looking back at them one more time, hoisting the chair a little more in his arm. “The next time we play, you naughty boys will be broken. And you, Brucey,” He says, and Bruce stares at him with an angry expression. “You’re going to know what Vance feels when he’s disrespectful. So you should prepare yourself. Or… you could have Vance do it for you.” He says, staring at both of them for only a second before the door slams shut and locks.

Bruce doesn't know what he means by prepare. Prepare for the pain? For the mental torture? Whatever it was, Bruce didn't want to find out.

He turns his head to Vance, seeing the boy in the corner, knees close to his chest and hands loosely hanging over his knees. Bruce starts walking over but barely makes it past the mattress before a harsh voice speaks.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Yamada.” Vance’s voice is cold, and it was nothing like how they had been talking before the Grabber ruined everything. Bruce furrows his eyebrows and his journey over there falters, but he takes one more step. He sees Vance’s arms flex and hands curl into fists around the belt he was holding, and Bruce tenses, eyes widening in disbelief. “Take a fucking hint and leave me alone.”

Bruce listens this time.

He doesn’t try to get closer, he doesn’t try to speak again, he knows what just happened was too much for either of them to process. Vance was justified to talk to him like that. What just happened to him was too much. Vance needed space to breathe, Bruce can respect that.

But he just… wants to help. What Vance just went through, what he’s been going through, Bruce wanted to help him. Since day one of going missing, Bruce had been trying to help Vance. It all felt so hard, but he kept trying. Until he finally gave up. And then when he was down here, he felt a rekindled hope just seeing Vance. He truly believed the two of them were going to get through this together.

He doesn’t believe that anymore.

They were running out of time. The fire in Vance surely died out so long ago, and Bruce can’t find it within him to hope that they can keep going. As the sun sets and the room begins to darken, so does his happiness. What used to be hope was nothing short of a black abyss swallowing him whole. It was only a matter of time before the Grabber got rid of them and took his next victims.

As Bruce laid onto the mattress - on his respective side - he feels cold. His mind drifts to the horrors of who the next victim would be. Dylan? Maybe Kai. Robin? Oh god, Finney… Bruce was heartbroken at the thought of any of them going through this. Imagining bright souls having to go through this, regardless of whether he knew them well or liked them, was enough to have more tears fall from his eyes.

But what hurt him the most was the fact that Vance had been living through this hell. That Griffin and Billy got through the beginning and unfortunately the end of this tragic fairy tale. And just knowing that Bruce was next in facing the horrific reality of what the Grabber was going to do to him made him curl in on himself, his eyes flicking to the outside. He could only imagine what fresh air was like. Could only dream of what being outside and feeling a breeze was like.

It takes a while for Bruce to fall asleep, but only because he was praying there was going to be a moment where Vance would finally crawl into bed with him and they could be together again. Just maybe ignite some sort of spark to the candle of hope that was falling apart.

Unfortunately, Bruce slept alone on the mattress that night.

Chapter Text

Neither of them spoke to each other for three days. Bruce had counted.

Bruce wanted to. He really did. Despite everything that happened, he wanted to try to somehow keep his spirits up, but he didn't have the strength to. Every time he looked at Vance, he just saw angry eyes staring at the dirty floor. He had hoped that at some point, Vance would speak. Say a single word. Anything at all. Bruce was even hoping that Vance would curse him out just to know that Vance was still mentally okay. But for three days, it’s been silence.

Every time that the Grabber brought them food, he seemed angrier and angrier. On the third day, he just simply dropped the tray of food onto the floor staring at the two boys before eventually turning on his heel and leaving again. Each time he came in with his mask in a frown, Bruce feared for the worst.

He remembers the Grabber’s words. Remembers how the Grabber said that he was going to be next. That Bruce was going to go through what Vance did. Bruce wasn't ready for it. He couldn't even imagine himself in that position. It was already baffling and horrifying to have seen Vance forced into a position like that, and Bruce imagining it being him was something that brought tears to his eyes every time.

When the Grabber walks into the basement this time, Bruce can tell he’s extremely tense. His stomach drops with the assumption that today was going to be the day, but the food is set on the floor and the Grabber begins to make his way to the door.

He does, however, stop and look back at the two, eyes scanning the boys who sit on opposite sides of the room.

“You two have been wary of each other,” he says, pointing it out as if it were some astute observation. Bruce’s hands curl into fists as he stares at the Grabber with angry eyes. “It wasn't that hard to break you two after all.”

Bruce wanted to fight him. There wasn't a violent bone is his body, but he wanted nothing more than to punch the Grabber. Punch, kick, bite, kill ; Bruce wanted to do it all. It’s the least the man deserved after the hell that he put everyone through.

The Grabber steps out of the room and locks it like usual, and Bruce can't seem to get the anger to melt away. It felt engraved in him. Is this how Vance felt so often? Just angry at everything around him and wanting nothing more than to let it go with violence? If this is how Vance felt, Bruce believed he was finally starting to understand.

Neither of the boys moves towards the food. Bruce was hungry. He doesn't remember the last time he ate a full meal. He knows Vance must be hungry too, as neither of them ever moved to pick at the food for the last couple days. The only thing they ever grabbed was the drinks, and even then they didn't drink much.

Bruce looks over to Vance who hadn't moved a muscle since the Grabber stepped into the room. Bruce stares for a bit before the anger washes away and is completely replaced by guilt and the realization that they weren't going to get out of here.

One more wrong move and they would die. Neither of them was even moving to eat, and Bruce realized why. They wanted this to end . The longer they preserved themselves, the longer they would have to endure the treatment. But if they just let go… then they wouldn't have to go through the torture anymore.

Bruce has to wipe away a stray tear from his cheek before he lets out a held breath, his head tilted in Vance’s direction, but not looking directly at him.

“Vance,” Bruce calls out. He’s not surprised when he doesn't get a response. He wasn't even expecting one. He just called out to Vance so that he knew that Bruce was talking to him. It wouldn't have been hard considering they're the only people in the room, but… just for closure. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Bruce noticed a twitch of Vance’s fingers.

“I’m… I’m sorry for all of this. I’m sorry I wasn't there to stop you from being grabbed. I’m sorry for the dumb ideas that I had that only got us into more trouble, I'm… I'm sorry.” Bruce was just going to let it all go now. Because he really was sorry. And he knows it isn't all his fault, yet he couldn't help but feel like it was.

Vance still doesn't respond. Bruce doesn't mind.

“I wish I could've helped you when you were taken. To stop you from having to deal with this for two whole months. And when I was taken down here too, for a second I genuinely was okay with it because we had each other, and we weren't alone. I thought… I thought that with you and me together, we would be able to keep our hopes up and get out of this. But now I realize I'm just making this whole thing so much worse.” When Bruce finally looks at him, he tenses when he sees Vance looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Vance stands and Bruce watches as Vance walks towards the mattress, sitting on his respective and staring at Bruce expectantly. Bruce is confused, and his eyebrows furrow to show it, but he eventually makes his way to the mattress, keeping somewhat of a distance between them. As much distance as he could leave on that small mattress anyway.

After that, they sit in silence again, neither of them looking at each other and instead at the tray of grossly undercooked scrambled eggs and opened bottles of Sprite. Bruce holds his knees close to his chest as he thinks back to what could be happening if they weren't in here. Going on that date to the baseball field would've been nice. Bruce had been too embarrassed to ask at the time, but he remembers wanting to invite Vance to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre with him alongside Finney and Robin. That would've been amazing. There were a lot of things that Bruce imagined them doing instead of being trapped in this basement.

But unfortunately, he knows now those things wouldn't come true.

It was a weird feeling, being hopeless. Bruce hadn't felt this way before. Yeah, he’s given up a few times, but not to the point of feeling completely hopeless. He felt empty when he thought about finally dying down here without anyone from the outside world knowing what happened to him. Yet despite that emptiness, there was that sense of relief. That feeling of satisfaction now that he’s finally come to terms with it. In a way, he wasn't afraid of it. He knew it was coming. He would just have to try to will the pain away again in order to go peacefully.

Bruce hadn't realized how long he was lost in his own thoughts until he can feel eyes staring at him, and he turns to see Vance already looking at him. His stomach flutters slightly, but the negativity swirling in his brain quickly numbs the feeling.

They don't speak, but one of Vance’s hands comes up and gently touches Bruce’s cheek. It was an odd feeling. Bruce doesn't think he’s ever seen Vance hold someone like this, and doesn't think he’s ever seen him hold someone this gently. Bruce’s stomach warmed a little more as he just stares at Bruce, whose eyes just scanned down Bruce’s face.

Vance’s thumb runs over the laceration on Bruce’s cheek, and Bruce flinches but doesn't pull away. It was painful, and more than likely infected, but there was an odd comfort in feeling Vance hold him this way. Even if it was just a touch on the cheek, Bruce barely remembers what it was like to feel a loving touch like this. Was that sad?

Bruce didn’t realize that he was shedding tears until he feels Vance wipe some wetness away, his face still completely unreadable. Bruce stares at Vance, something in his eyes glistening before he hears it.

“Can I kiss you?”

Bruce never took Vance as the type to ask for permission to kiss someone. Not that Vance would just do it willy-nilly, but Bruce always took Vance as the type to kiss someone mid-sentence. Or surprise them at a movie or restaurant. But to ask for permission like that? Bruce feels his heart flutter and he takes in a long breath to relax before he nods.

They both lean in.

And finally, finally , after what felt like years of pent-up emotion, their lips connect, and Bruce feels his heart explode.

It was nothing like when the Grabber forced them to do it. There was some awkward and stiff movement as they kissed one another, but it wasn’t in the way that it was when they were being watched. Despite their movements being awkward, they wanted to do this. They wanted to finally be able to do something between the two of them that they wanted to do.

Bruce’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest when they finally pull away, panting softly as they stare at each other. Bruce’s eyes are filled with confusion alongside satisfaction while Vance still has that unreadable expression on his face.

Bruce tenses when he realizes that fact.

“Vance did you…” He starts, his heart sinking a bit when he thinks that Vance didn't do it because he wanted to. “Why did you ask to do that?” Bruce asks, and Vance still stares at him before there’s a slight smirk on his face and he shakes his head slightly.

“I wondered for the longest time what your lips felt like.” He admits, and Bruce stares with only confusion now, unsure of what Vance was getting at. Did Vance go delirious? Oh god, was Vance broken ? Vance seems to pick up on Bruce’s panic, because he looks away and towards the tray of food, his expression hardening slightly again.

“I’m not normally an affectionate person. Doctor says I have some sort of condition or whatever that makes me really sensitive to touch and weird about actually giving or receiving love,” He explains, and Bruce nods, swallowing hard. “I know that I'm a violent person at heart. I’ve accepted that shit. It’s who I am and I don't plan on changing. But, when it comes to you,” He pauses and looks at Bruce, who was already staring at him with hopeful eyes. “There’s something in me that wants me to change. Something in me that wants to be softer. I’m sure you’ve already noticed with how soft I've fucking been since you’ve been down here.”

Bruce feels appalled that he’s able to laugh even once, and he’s happy to see a small grin on Vance’s face.

“I was wondering why you weren't calling me names at every chance you got. Even your dipshits sounded like you were complimenting me.” Bruce jokes back, and Vance lets out a slight laugh shaking his head.

But when it dawns on them that they were still in the basement, their smiles fall slowly, and Bruce takes in a deep breath.

“Did you at least enjoy it?” Vance asks, and Bruce looks over at him.

“What?”

“The kiss, I mean,” Vance clarifies, and Bruce feels his face warm as he looked away.

“Yeah. I did. That was my first real kiss. That, you know, wasn't being watched by some creepy pedophile.” He says, and Vance nodded, smiling slightly.

“Me too,” he says, then leering to Bruce. “But I actually practiced.” Bruce looked at Vance with a surprised expression.

“What? You practiced kissing? On what?” He asks and Vance grins looking away again.

“Pillows. They work like a charm.”

“Ugh. I have to wipe your lips off of mine now,” Bruce feigns disgust, and both he and Vance let out a few laughs.

Eventually, their laughs die down, and Bruce’s fractured mind thinks back to things, and he swallows hard as he stares at the door. By the way Vance stared at the door too, it was clear as day that he thought the same thing.

“Do you think we only enjoyed it because… because of what we’ve gone through?” Vance asks, surprisingly stuttering over his words. However, Bruce knows he shouldn't be surprised. He’s astonished that Vance was even able to speak coherent sentences after what happened to him. After what’s been happening to him. If they ever got out of here, Bruce was going to be sure to tell the media that Vance was a badass who doesn't let anyone break him.

Bruce thinks about it for a long moment before he shakes his head.

“You know, I was popular back at school only because of my looks,” Bruce said, letting out a slightly bitter laugh. “My looks are what drew people in, and the fact that I didn't have the heart to push them away meant that they felt like they could stay. Everyone assumed that I had an infinite amount of friends when in reality, nobody knew the first thing about me. It was hard to see the good in myself when people only saw the superficial.” Bruce explains, seeing Vance in his peripherals look over at him. “But… you weren't like that. I expected no less from the Vance Hopper, but still… you were a refreshing change.”

“Change?” Vance repeats the word in a questioning tone, and Bruce nods subtly, taking in a deep breath.

“Yeah. You were a change. Everyone saw me for my looks and stayed because they knew they would have a good reputation if they were my friend ,” Bruce puts air quotes around the word friend. “But when it came to you, I could tell you weren't only focused on my looks. You weren't only focused on my skill at baseball and you weren't asking me how many girls I knew so I could hook you up. You treated me like a normal person, and I…” he pauses, hesitant about his next words, yet somewhat determined. “I fell in love with that.”

Bruce realizes he’s been rambling and he feels his face heat up. He can't bear to see Vance right at the moment, so he turns his head away.

“What I’m trying to say is, no, I didn't kiss you because I felt like I had to or felt like I was brainwashed. I liked you before all this. Before you had gone missing, before I ended up down here with you, before all of it. Despite everyone thinking that I'm some sort of god when it comes to relationships, I just had no idea how to tell you or even hint at it without thinking you were going to punch me in the face.”

Vance laughs slightly at the end of Bruce’s rant.

“That’s fucking insane,” Vance says, and Bruce turns to look at him. “I thought I was just going crazy. Kids never liked me. The only ones that did were fuckers who thought that they could get on my good side. You were the only one who seemed genuine. I thought it was some fucking prank when you started talking to me. I actually almost wanted to get physical. But you had done nothing wrong. And then you kept coming back. And next thing I knew, I was the one also coming back to you.” Vance says, and Bruce stares at him with a reignited light in his eyes.

“Fuck, what I'm trying to say is, I liked you before all this shit, too. And I swear on everything, I would've made it to that baseball field date if the stupid motherfucker Dylan didn't decide to fuck with me.” Vance almost sounds defensive, and Bruce laughs and rests one of his hands on Vance’s.

“I believe you, I believe you,” Bruce says, and Vance smiles, laughing a bit.

He’ll never quite know how they do it. For three grueling days, he believed all hope to be lost. He believed that both he and Vance were done for and they wouldn't ever get to breathe the air from outside again. Yet here they were, talking about how things were before and a new hope blossoming between them. Bruce could just tell by the sparkle in Vance’s eyes that he’s not gonna give up. Maybe before he was going to, but now? Vance wasn't going to give up. And Bruce wasn't going to either.

Bruce leans his head onto Vance’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering a bit as the exhaustion begins to take over. Who knew getting nearly no sleep for three days was going to cause something like this? He gets a bit comfortable, relishing in the feeling of Vance holding him closer.

“When we get out of here, Vance?” Bruce starts, Vance humming in acknowledgment. “We’re never gonna walk alone again.”

It’s quiet for a moment, yet Bruce can practically hear the smile in Vance’s tone when he speaks.

“Damn right.”

No matter what the Grabber did, no matter what he threw at them, no matter what he thought; the two are gonna prevail. It didn't matter how much the Grabber would hurt them. Bruce wasn't going to let Vance give up, and Vance wasn't going to let Bruce give up.

They were going to make sure of it.

Chapter Text

“Tonight’s the night,” Bruce utters under his breath as he stares at the door, the room slowly getting darker as the sun sets. Vance looks at Bruce and raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“The Grabber,” Bruce starts, voice shaky. “Tonight's the night he’s gonna go through with his promise.”

“What? How would you know?” Vance’s voice is a little defensive, and Bruce looks at him for a second before looking towards the small window.

“There were four police cars that drove by. Three stopped by this house, probably questioning him,” Bruce explains, swallowing hard. “He’s been saying how frustrated he’s getting whenever he has to hide us… I think he’s gonna break tonight.” Bruce’s voice is clearly scared, and he can see that Vance notices, because the arm that was around him pulls him a tad closer.

“Don't say that shit,” Vance responds, however, Bruce can hear that even Vance’s voice was unsure. “Fucker has to get through me first, alright? I’m not gonna let him touch you. Not while I'm still alive.”

“Vance, if you get in the way, he’ll kill you.” Bruce’s voice gets weak around the last part. It was such a scary thought. No matter how much they tried, they were still stuck in here. And the likelihood of them getting out without one or the other (or both) dying was absurdly low. For Vance to pull on the last flimsy straw of life he has with the Grabber was like a death wish. Bruce can't imagine having to go through any of this alone. “Just… don't do anything. If we just… If we give him what he wants, then maybe he’ll go easy on us.”

“Fuck that.” Vance’s voice gets aggressive, but Bruce doesn't flinch. Not like how he does when the Grabber gets aggressive. “I’m not gonna let him fucking touch you. That fucker either has to kill me or he’s not going to get to you at all.”

There was a sick feeling in Bruce’s stomach when he hears those words, and he opens his mouth to speak before the door opens.

The Grabber, mask turned in its infamous frown, stares at them with a disheveled look. His eyes have bags under them, his hair isn't groomed, and just him walking into the room brought a smell that had Bruce breathing through his mouth for a long moment. His shoulders are clearly tense, and his hands are balled into tight fists.

That sick feeling in Bruce’s stomach got worse.

He just stares at them as he shuts the door, and Bruce can tell that Vance was staring at him with a death stare. Bruce tries to keep the hard gaze as well, he really does, but the thoughts of what was going to come were causing his eyes to be full of nothing but fear.

He looks at Vance, who looks back at him, and he can see a sense of understanding in him.

“It’s time, Brucey,” The Grabber starts, and Bruce feels his eyes well up with tears. He knew it. There was that feeling inside of him and what he was observing that helped him realize. “It’s time for your ultimate punishment.”

“Like fuck if I would let you,” Vance starts, standing and getting in front of Bruce. Bruce was praying that Vance wouldn’t, so he stands and is immediately tugging for Vance to stand down.

“Vance, don't . Please,” Bruce starts, but Vance shrugs his hand off of him, cracking his neck. Bruce feels his heart rate begin to pick up.

The Grabber stares at Vance with narrowed eyes, clearly expecting something like this. Which was only another big indicator for Vance to fucking stand down.

“Or what,” The Grabber’s voice was shaky, verging from that high-pitched tone to a gruff, raspy one. Like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to be at that exact moment. “Over your dead body?”

Vance was weak. He had gotten skinnier. Bruce remembers seeing him outside of the basement and how much muscle he had. He was big for a middle schooler. But when Bruce got down here and saw him, he remembers when it hit him. How much thinner Vance looked. He still had some buff to him, clearly must've been doing some sort of working out while in the basement in order to keep a bit of his strength. Bruce can respect this.

But despite Vance being weaker, despite Vance losing every fight that Bruce has seen down here, he still flexed and curled his hands into fists. His eyebrows furrowed and he grounded himself slightly. Seeing Vance like that fueled Bruce with a confidence that felt reinvigorating, and Bruce curls his own hands into fists as he looks at the Grabber.

The man stares at the two boys, his eyes evaluating the situation. Bruce, in the back of his mind, knows that this fight is lost. Both he and Vance barely ate and drank within the last three days. They aren’t coordinated fighters. They have no plans. They’re fighting off of sheer passion and some adrenaline. It wouldn’t be enough. Bruce was hoping that things could just happen somewhat peacefully so they didn’t get bad punishment, but…

No. The Grabber was never gonna have it easy. Not if they have anything to say about it.

When neither of the boys back down from the Grabber’s menacing gaze, a chuckle begins to leave the man's mouth as he throws his head back. He was genuinely laughing. Laughing at the boys and their attempt to stand up for themselves. Bruce didn’t have to look over to Vance to know that it pissed him off, but Bruce himself felt a wave of anger inside of him bubble up. The hatred that he’s gathered for this man was building and building, the laughter only adding to it all.

Bruce hadn't been taught much self-defense. He never paid attention to the self-defense classes that his parents brought him to when he was younger. So his first thought was to strike first, despite not even being a fighter. Maybe it was a survival instinct, maybe it was just because he wanted to beat the shit out of the Grabber. He doesn't quite know yet.

Before Bruce could make the first swing like he wanted to, Vance beats him to it, and Vance’s fist comes into straight contact with the Grabber’s cheek. Well, the masks cheek.

The Grabber stumbles back, a clear surprise written in his eyes. Bruce thought it was the most satisfying thing to see. The man thought they were broken. He thought he had ruined them. But he couldn't be further from the truth. Vance and Bruce had their ups and downs, but they wouldn't just give up.

Bruce wasn't going to give up till the day he dies.

Seeing the Grabber stunned, Vance throws another punch, nailing the Grabber right in his other cheek. The Grabber’s head spins to the other side. Bruce can see a few wet specks fly in the air, and it brings his attention to the fact that the Grabber had several streams of tears falling from his eyes.

Vance’s final assault is a strong uppercut that knocks the frowning part of the mask right off of the Grabber’s face, and Bruce gasps slightly as he gets a good look at the bottom half of the Grabber’s face.

His mouth was stained with blood, but Bruce can see through the unbloodied parts of his mouth that his teeth were an ugly yellow. His nose was twisted slightly, most likely broken multiple times due to Vance’s unwavering anger. His lip was busted and slightly swollen. Yet despite the punches he just sustained, there was a smile on his face. Bruce swallows hard.

This time, Bruce decides to hit, and with a swift kick to the Grabber’s shin, the man buckled and groaned heavily. Bruce felt his heart leap. They were winning .

Despite the fact that the Grabber was on his knees, there was still that wicked smile on his face, and Bruce felt a moment of confusion. That moment of confusion and stillness was all the Grabber needed before he suddenly pushed Bruce.

The baseball star stumbles backward and lands on the mattress. Vance gets ready to throw another punch before his fist is grabbed and the Grabber stands. Vance only gets one second before there’s a hand at his throat, holding him against the wall. He kicks out, but there’s a quick jab to his face, and Bruce watches as the strength slowly drains from Vance. Another punch to the face, another, and another, and all that Vance is rendered to is a limp body that weakly tries to block the assault to his body.

Bruce stands and tries to somehow free Vance from the grip, but a hard swing of the Grabber’s knuckles hits him right back onto the mattress.

It came to Bruce’s attention that the Grabber not only was beating the shit out of Vance to the point where he wasn't moving, but he was also choking him. Bruce’s eyes widen.

When the Grabber seemingly had enough of beating Vance, he tosses the boy's body to the side. Bruce watches as Vance falls to the floor, hair covering his bloodied face as he lies motionless.

“Vance, get up,” Bruce calls out, voice shaky as his eyes begin to water. Vance doesn't move, not even a twitch of his fingers is visible. Bruce feels his heart begin to crack. “Fuck, Vance, get up !” He shouts, and the Grabber lets out a giggle as he grabs Bruce’s ankle and drags him towards himself. Bruce fights back slightly, but can't take his eyes off Vance.

“I tried to teach him, but he just didn't get it,” The Grabber says, and Bruce feels his stomach twist in an unfathomable way as he feels hands grab at his pants. He kicks out again, his heel connecting with the Grabber’s chin. He only has a moment to relish in the sound of pain that comes from the man before the Grabber is more forceful as he pulls Bruce closer.

“Vance! Please! Get up!” Bruce screams this time, desperate to get any signs of Vance still being alive. Through the blur of the tears, Bruce couldn't see if Vance was breathing.

“Naughty boy tested me too long. So he got his final punishment,” The Grabber says, taking a handful of Bruce’s hair and pulling back, his breath grazing against the skin of Bruce’s neck. Bruce’s tears fall, but it’s not because of the Grabber. Not because of what was about to happen. It was the thought of Vance actually being gone. “And you know what that means, Brucey? You get to be my new, solo plaything. Shame we didn't get to do everything I wanted, but that’s okay. Maybe I’ll get you a friend. Little Finney Blake seems like the perfect candidate.”

Bruce swings back with his elbow and hits the Grabber.

“Don't say his fucking name,” Bruce growls out, earning himself a hard hit to the back of his head. It’s going to happen. There was no stopping what was going on.

But Bruce is determined. He’s not going to let anyone go through this. No one. Bruce and Vance were going to get out of this.

Bruce’s eyes look back at Vance, and he feels them well up with more hot tears.

“Vance-” His voice is barely above a broken whisper, and his hand reaches out as if he could reach him. “ Please . Don’t leave me alone.”

Vance still doesn't move.

The Grabber gently caressed Bruce’s face when he was done, and Bruce couldn't bring himself to move away from the touch.

Eventually, the Grabber leaves the room, being sure to slam the door exceptionally hard to make Bruce jump. Bruce’s eyes leak salty tears as he curls in on himself unable to even button up his own pants with how weak he felt.

His mind thinks back to what he could've done to deserve this, but he blocks the thoughts out. He doesn't deserve this. No one does. And he’s not going to let the Grabber’s words make him think otherwise. He’s not going to let anything let him think otherwise.

Bruce, despite feeling awful and disgusting, moves to sit up, wincing at the soreness before he looks at Vance.

He hasn't moved from the position he was left in last.

Bruce, despite wanting nothing more than to just rest, somewhat crawls to Vance. His hands sting against the cool floor, and he gently pushes at Vance’s body to see his face. He pushes the bloodied hair from Vance’s face, swallowing hard.

“God- oh my god, this is bad,” Bruce starts, uttering to himself. He reaches forward to touch one of the injuries, but he stops himself. He doesn't want to hurt Vance. But… “Vance, can you hear me? He’s gone. Please- just…” Bruce chokes on his own words as he starts to pull Vance towards the mattress.

It was like dead weight, and Bruce’s heart feels heavier and heavier with every tug. He eventually gets Vance onto the mattress, and it was at that point that Bruce’s already shaking legs give out from underneath him. He holds Vance close, leaning down to Vance’s chest to hear for a heartbeat. To feel for any sort of life. He just needed something to know that Vance was alive.

As his head rests against Vance’s chest, he doesn't get the chance to listen for a heartbeat before there’s a hand in his hair. He tenses and sits up, turning immediately. But when he sees no one else in the room, he turns to Vance, who was looking at him with his eyes just barely open. The tears started to fall, but it wasn't out of the sadness or anger he was feeling earlier.

“Thank god. Oh my god. Vance-” Bruce’s hands reach up and cup Vance’s face gently, careful to avoid the clear bruises and cuts (which was a lot to avoid). “Jesus, Vance - god, I… I thought-” Bruce couldn't form complete sentences as he chokes on his own cries. Vance doesn't say a word, his eyes blank as his hand gently falls from Bruce’s hair and rests against his cheek.

“What did he do to you?” These were the first words that Vance said upon waking, and Bruce stared at him with pure confusion before he looks away.

“You were almost beat to death and the first thing you ask is if I'm okay?” Bruce whispers out, his voice somewhat bitter as he lets out a forced laugh. “Fuck, Vance, you were almost beat to death. I thought- I thought-” Bruce couldn't even imagine it. To have witnessed the death of Vance and then have what happened to him happen? Bruce wouldn't have been able to keep going.

“What did he do to you?” Vance’s words - despite his voice being weak - were still strong. It sounded more like a demand than a question. As Bruce thinks back about it, his eyes start to burn again.

“He…” Bruce felt like he couldn't get it out of his mouth and he has to look away. He can't look Vance in the eye and say it. It was too much. “He used me.”

Despite Vance being weak, barely able to move a muscle, Bruce could see the anger already begin to morph. He felt Vance’s arm tense and could see his eyebrows pull together. Vance winces, clearly straining his body that needed rest, and Bruce stares, wishing to whatever god existed that he could help in any way, shape, or form.

“That fucker,” Vance breathes out, needing to take a second breath in order to complete his sentence. “Is going to die tonight.” Bruce stares at him, and when he sees the fire in Vance’s eyes, he swallows hard before nodding.

Bruce could feel it in his bones; could feel it in his heart.

They were going to kill the Grabber the next time he came down those fucking steps.

Chapter Text

"Vance, you need to lay down," Bruce says for the millionth time, and Vance just leans against the wall as he looks at Bruce.

"Don't tell me what to do," Vance grumbles out, and Bruce stares at him with hard eyes.

"Vance, you're more than likely suffering from a concussion and some sort of starvation. You need to rest and save your energy for when we actually do what we have to do." Bruce explains, but Vance still just ignores his words and cracks his neck. Bruce gets marginally agitated. "Vance, I'm being serious."

"And I'm being serious. Don't tell me what to do. I'm not gonna sit around making you do everything." Vance quips back.

"Vance, for god's sake, just sit down," Bruce says, and Vance takes a long moment to stare at him before he eventually limps towards the mattress and slides down the wall to sit down. Bruce takes a breath of relief before he grabs the top of the toilet cover and examines it before setting it down beside the door. He stands for a long moment before he looks over at Vance, who was resting his head against the wall, eyes closed. "Don't fall asleep."

"Christ, Bruce. Do you want me to fucking rest or do you want me to keep you company? Pick a damn side." Vance complains, and Bruce smiles slightly before looking away, shaking his head.

"If you fall asleep, you might not wake up," Bruce admits bitterly, and Vance stays quiet. "And do you know how embarrassing it is to be outlived by the Grabber?"

Vance seems to think about it for a long second before he smirks slightly. Bruce smiles slightly before he takes in a deep breath, leaning against the wall and staring at Vance.

"He's gonna come down soon," Bruce says softly, and the smirk on Vance's face disappears. He looks outside, the sky dark except for the bright moon and the light shimmer coming from the street side lamps. He then looks back to the door and swallows hard.

"Do you remember him locking the door when he left?" He asks, and Bruce looks at Vance with a confused look before he tries to think back to it.

"I uh... I don't really remember. When everything happened I wasn't really all here." He says softly, closing his eyes and straining to keep the horrid memories at bay. "Sorry. Why would that matter, anyway? Does he sometimes leave the door unlocked?" When Bruce asked that question, he could see Vance tense slightly.

"Yeah. A fucked up game he likes to play. But, if you think we're ready, I can... we can get him down here." Vance says, and Bruce tenses, swallowing hard.

He looks towards the door, and he stares at the handle for a long moment before he takes a long breath. He sets his hand onto the handle, looking back at Vance for a second before he pulls.

To his astonishment, the door silently creaks open, and he tenses when he sees the staircase leading upstairs. He turns back to Vance in utter confusion, but Vance seems to be staring in ongoing anger as he then motions for Bruce to quietly close the door. Bruce stares at him with evident befuddlement, but promptly shuts the door and kneels next to Vance.

"He's up there. Waiting." Vance explains, and Bruce looks back to the door as a shiver runs down his spine. Vance then looks to Bruce and sits up just a little straighter. "You said he thinks I'm dead, right?"

Bruce hates the wording, but he wordlessly nods as his brain recalls those terrifying moments of believing Vance to be dead. He'll never be able to get it out of his brain. Vance seems to dislike the fact that Bruce confirmed his suspicion because he lets out a long breath and stares at the ceiling.

"Shit..." He utters softly, and Bruce feels his heart sink a bit.

"Why? What does that matter other than for the surprise bit?" Bruce asks, and Vance takes in a deep breath.

"It means," he pauses, unable to bring himself to say it right away. "It means that you're gonna have to be the one to go upstairs." He says, and Bruce furrows his eyebrows. Vance clearly doesn't like the words coming from his own mouth, but he seems certain. "Fucker is gonna chase you down here. I can't do it because we need me for the surprise. And... I'm," he pauses again. "I'm in no shape to go out there. We're gonna have to psyche this dipshit out, and the only way we can do that is if he continues to think that I'm dead."

Bruce almost wants to shout at Vance to stop saying that, but he stops himself.

Neither of them talk for a little while. The thought of actually going through with what they wanted to do was a scary thing to think about. They only had one shot, after all. One wrong move and they would be screwed. Both of them would die and most likely never be found. One missed swing, and Vance would be dead. One missed hit, and Bruce would never remember what a breath of fresh air would be like.

When Bruce looks back up at Vance, he sees the other already looking at him, but he doesn't look away. Doesn't feel the need to. It hurt to see Vance like that. Of course it did. But just looking at him brought comfort to Bruce. Reminded him that, despite everything that has happened, both of them were still alive. Just looking at Vance refueled him with the confidence that they needed to get out of here. It reminded Bruce just how much he relied on Vance to get through this with enough sanity to rekindle himself with the real world.

"When do you want to do this?" Bruce asks, voice still a bit uncertain. Vance just stares at him before looking towards the door, his eyes hard.

"I've never felt more determined to kill a fucker sooner in my life," Vance says, and Bruce can't help but smile. Bruce stands, and - even though he wanted Vance to get the proper rest he deserved - holds his hand out so Vance could get up as well. When Vance stands, they stare at each other for a long second before Vance takes a deep breath and turns to the phone.

He stares at the black phone for a long moment before he reaches towards it, wrapping his hands around the entirety of it and suddenly tugging harshly. The phone had clearly been there for a while with no attention given to it, so it started to give easily. The wall cracks slightly, dust falling to the floor as Vance takes a second to breathe before he gets ready to tug again.

And then the phone starts to shake.

Both boys instantly begin to back up from the phone, looking at each other for a second before looking right back to the phone that shakes violently. Bruce takes it upon himself to pull Vance to the side, watching as the shaking only gets more and more violent before suddenly the phone is flying off the wall. Bruce flinches at how close it gets and winces at the sound of the phone hitting the wall. When the shaking comes to a halt and Bruce opens his eyes, he looks to the wall, seeing that the entirety of the phone box was completely off it and on the floor. His eyes trail after the line, all the way to the wall he had been facing away from. He looks at Vance for a moment before heading over to the phone carefully.

He kneels down and grabs the phone, the neck of the phone obnoxiously cold to the touch as he holds it close. He's about to stand and head back over to Vance, but when he sees the dent on the wall created by the impact, his eyes squint upon seeing something carved into the wall.

Upon seeing the numbers, Bruce feels his heart sink.

When Bruce doesn't move for a long moment, Vance limps his way over.

"What? What happened?" Bruce would find it funny that Vance didn't question the very freaky supernatural occurrence that had just happened, but he couldn't bring himself to smile. His hand reaches forward and his fingertips trail lightly over what was carved into the wall, a shiver running up his spine.

"There are numbers here," Bruce starts, his breathing a bit labored as he keeps himself in check. He didn't want to be crying now. He's shed too many tears down here. "They're... they're Griffin's bike lock numbers."

Now Vance understood why Bruce was silent. As his eyes scan the wall, he spots the numbers and can tell they were carved at a frantic rate. At one point he can barely tell if something was a number or letter. His own heart aches.

"You know, he had a habit of forgetting," Bruce says, his head turning in Vance's general direction, but not looking up to him. "He came to me one day about it. Said that he needed me to remember for him just in case he forgot. I promised I would never forget. Never did. Not even when he had gone missing." Bruce says, a bittersweet tone in his voice as he speaks. Vance stares with pained eyes, taking in a deep breath at the thought of Griffin being down here. Billy or Griffin being down here... it hurt too much to think about. He remembers them well. He actually spoke with Griffin a lot before he disappeared. Griffin always admitted to Vance how he felt invisible to almost everyone around him. Vance remembers how Griffin says he was happy that people like Vance and Bruce reminded him that he wasn't just a ghost.

Vance felt like punching the wall, but he just stands in his own wallowing sorrow instead.

Bruce finally stands, taking a deep breath.

"I'm not sure why they wanted to show us that," Bruce admits truthfully, holding the phone tightly in his hand for a long moment before he hands it to Vance. "But it had to have been important."

"You think it was them showing us?" Vance asks, and Bruce stares at him for a long moment before he shoots him an odd half smile.

"There isn't a doubt in my mind that they're here right now, rooting for us to get the hell out of here," Bruce says with all the confidence there was inside of him, and Vance stares for a moment before there's a smile on his face.

"Me too."

Bruce smiles, and they're both looking away for a second before Bruce is taking in a large breath and looking towards the door. It was now or never. They didn't know what the man would do to them when he came back down those stairs unprompted. They weren't going to find out.

It was now or never.

Bruce looks at Vance one more time, who was already looking at him and shoots him a quick two-fingered salute.

"See you on the flip side." He says, his tone confident, but the look in his eyes not so certain. Bruce was about to head up the stairs to initiate what very well could be their last fighting change, but there's a hand on his shoulder that stops him, and when he turns, there are suddenly lips against his own.

He's surprised, and that's evident in the way that he doesn't kiss back immediately. Sensing that, Vance pulls away, their faces still close, but no longer connected.

"Sorry, I-" Vance starts apologizing (which never fails to sound foreign to Bruce's ears), but Bruce easily cuts him off with another connection, this time more passionate. They both push and pull on their own accord, Bruce being extra careful to not cause one of their lips to bust open due to the fragile cuts all over them. When they eventually pull away, Bruce is looking into Vance's eyes, both of their gazes with an unreadable expression. But Bruce knows what he's feeling. And based on the way that Vance's face turns to one of determination, he's sure that Vance feels the same way.

Without another second to waste, Bruce turns to the door, and with a deep breath, he opens the door and makes his way up the stairs.

There's no creaking from the steps that he walks up. It would be a very impressive feature if it weren't for the fact that it only made finding the kids in his basement harder to discover. Bruce makes it halfway up the stairs when he begins to feel nauseous.

How could he not? He was violated not too terribly long ago by the very man that he was approaching. Sure, Bruce was most likely faster than him, but that doesn't erase the fear from his body. As he stands for a second and wonders if something like this was even worth it, he thinks back to Vance. He had to do this. If not for himself, for Vance . He couldn't bail now. Not when Vance was relying on him to do his part.

When Bruce makes it to that final step at the top of the stairs, he holds his breath as he turns the corner.

The sudden urge to vomit hits him like a truck, but he can't. He has nothing to throw up. He was too shocked to throw up. The man was shirtless, sitting in that rickety old chair that he occasionally brought downstairs. His mask was flipped into its awful smile, and there was a knife and belt in both hands. When Bruce feels he can breathe again, the Grabber's head tilts to the side a bit, eyes glistening with tears as he stares at Bruce's shaking figure.

"You'll never learn, naughty boy," The Grabber says, and Bruce isn't sure that his legs will work until the Grabber was suddenly out of the chair. Bruce snaps out of his horrified daze and stares for only a second longer before he dodges the Grabber's hand attempting to get his wrist into a tight grip. Their faces are close for a second, and Bruce can see fresh tear stains ribboning across the Grabber's face, but he takes no time to analyze. Bruce instantly turns on his heel and is instantly rushing down the stairs.

His heart was racing a million miles a second, to the point that it felt like it was about to beat right out of his chest. His brain swirls and screams for his body to finally get the rest it's been craving for forever now, but Bruce keeps pushing. He keeps telling himself that he has to. Vance was counting on him.

Bruce gasps and screams when there's a hand in his hair that stops his frantic trek down the stairs, and he raises his hands to try to stop the harsh grip in his hair. But when he realizes there was no way to pry the Grabber's hands from his hair, he takes in a large breath and harshly thrusts his elbow behind him. He nails the Grabber right into his ribs, effectively getting the Grabber to let him go and stumble for a second. Bruce trips down a few stairs, just barely landing properly so as to not sprain his ankle, and makes it the rest of the way downstairs.

"Why fight when you know what's gonna happen, naughty boy?" Despite being just hit, the Grabber sounds overjoyed. As if it were some sort of game. Bruce only felt sicker to his stomach, but he stays strong.

The Grabber is quick to make his way down the stairs, and his eyes are glued onto Bruce the whole time. Bruce stands in the corner of the room, his eyes no longer fearful or in shock, but confident as he smirks slightly. Now the Grabber looks confused, and he only gets a second to look down at where Vance's body once lay before there's a harsh smack to his face.

Bruce watches as Vance slams the toilet tank lid right into the Grabber's face, and the Grabber falls to the floor roughly. Bruce stares with satisfaction in his eyes as the Grabber lays dazed and in pain at the impact, but he doesn't get to relish it long. He looks to Vance to make sure the other was alright, but only for a moment before he quickly rushes to the Grabber and pulls the items from his hands. Bruce quickly tosses the knife and belt aside, remembering where the items were before he grabs the phone and its box, tossing it to Vance, who catches it with ease.

"Thought you could kill me, motherfucker?" Vance starts, standing above the Grabber, who looks up at him with confusion laced throughout his features. Vance reaches down and pulls the mask off, revealing the hideous creature that had been abusing them this whole time. Vance feels more anger boil up to the surface inside of him. "I'm gonna kill you now, and when i meet you in hell?" Bruce watches as Vance holds the phone box up and then slams it down right into the Grabber's face. The Grabber's head snaps backward at the impact, slamming into the stairs behind him, and a satisfying crack can be heard throughout the room. The Grabber's nose bleeds profusely, and there's a sound of a whimper - or a misheard moan - that escapes his mouth.

"I'm gonna kill you again. Over," Vance raises the phone up again and slams it down right against the Grabber's mouth. "And over," Vance raises the phone up and slams it against the Grabber's nose. "And over, motherfucker!" Vance raises the phone again, but this time, the Grabber shakes his head and dodges Vance's assault. Vance doesn't get much time to react before suddenly he's practically thrown off of the Grabber and slammed into the wall. Vance is dazed, and the Grabber slowly stands back up again, his body rocking in circles as he tries to gather himself.

Bruce watches as that happens and calls out to Vance to try to snap him back into reality, reaching for the knife as he keeps the Grabber in his sights the whole time. The Grabber watches his motions, and Bruce watches in horror as the Grabber quickly makes his way toward Bruce.

Due to his coordination being completely skewed because of the blows he had taken, the Grabber knocks both himself and Bruce to the mattress, wrestling for the knife in Bruce's hand. Bruce kicks and punches at the Grabber, but they aren't as strong as he would want them to be because he's trying so desperately to keep the knife in hand. The Grabber's face was so close to his, and he could smell every musty scent coming off of the man and could practically feel the sweat misting off of him.

To Bruce's horror, the knife falls from his hand and clatters to the floor beside the mattress, and Bruce tries reaching for it. But as he tries reaching for it, there's a sudden punch to his face, and his head spins to the other side, completely discombobulated. His vision blurs and he has to blink a few times in order to recollect himself, but it was too late.

The Grabber has the knife in hand, and Bruce only gets a second longer to fight back before there's a sudden sharp pain in his stomach, and his mouth opens in a silent scream. Bruce's eyes are on the Grabber, but they aren't focused on him. He stares, wide-eyed and in disbelief, and watches as a black phone cord wraps around the Grabber's neck and tightens harshly.

Bruce watches as the Grabber is dragged backward, his words and sounds garbled and jumbled together as he claws at the phone cord against his neck. Vance pulls hard at the cord, then sets one of his feet against the Grabber's back and pushes down, watching as the Grabber falls to the floor. Vance's boot pressed heavily against the Grabber's upper back, only adding to the pressure against his neck that restricts his airflow.

Bruce crawls backward, somewhere off the mattress and into the corner as he stares at the scene. With every move he makes, he feels another sharp pain in his stomach and when he's finally against the wall, he looks down.

His eyes can't even widen in shock at the knife lodged deep within his stomach.

He watches as blood slowly seeps from the wound, and he grabs at the handle and tugs just barely, only to feel a wave of pain flow throughout his body. He gasps and his head thumps against the wall, tears falling from his eyes as he stares at the ceiling. His vision constantly veers off, going from unfocused to completely hazy within seconds of each other. Every time he breathes, he feels a sharp pain and he clutches at his stomach in pure agony. He chokes on his breath, or is it his spit? He doesn't know. All he can taste is copper rising in his throat and spilling from his lips.

Vance's boot stays digging at the Grabber's back, but he was so overwhelmed with the power that he had over the man who's been tormenting them for too fucking long that he doesn't realize the Grabber had somehow gotten some sort of footing. In only a second, Vance is practically bucked off of the Grabber and he's falling backward, his head slamming into a corner. Vance falls to the ground completely, dazed and motionless.

Bruce had watched the interaction, but his brain wasn't realizing what was happening. In fact, it didn't really feel like his brain was working. He was recalling thoughts, but none of them were from this moment, or even in this very basement. He just remembers things.

He remembers first hitting a baseball and falling in love. He remembers running from his father who was trying to get him out during their family baseball game. He remembers meeting Vance for the first time. He remembers patching Vance up after Vance had gotten into a fight. He remembers Vance. All of Vance.

Bruce's eyes finally focus back on the situation at hand, and he realized that the Grabber was standing above him, an absolutely enraged expression in his eyes. Bruce doesn't remember ever seeing him so upset, but perhaps that was because he's never gotten to truly see his face.

"You're fucking done, naughty boy," The Grabber's voice is meaner than Bruce has ever heard before, and Bruce's brain finally registers the situation.

Bruce was going to die.

Bruce wasn't sure if he accepted it or not yet. His brain was telling him that this was it, yet when he was looking around, his heart was telling him that things weren't over. His heart was shouting at him that he wasn't dead yet and that he had to keep pushing.

Bruce's hand subtly wraps around the handle of the knife as he stares up at the Grabber, his eyebrows furrowing in pure hatred and anger as he stares.

But before he could do anything, everyone in the room hears glass shaking.

Bruce and the Grabber both look over to the noise, and Bruce's eyes widen at the glass of the bottles shuddering and shaking violently. Bruce was surprised, but not absolutely flabbergasted like the Grabber was, who simply could not take his eyes off of the bottles. Bruce watches as the Grabber's eyes seem to shed more tears, this time completely nonstop before he watches it happen in disbelief. One of the bottles flies into the Grabber's direction and nails him right in the head, shattering into hundreds of pieces upon impact. Bruce flinches as some of the glass shards fall on him, not causing any damage, but tenses when he sees that some of the glass was embedded into the Grabber's skin.

The Grabber shouts and his hands try to reach for his face, but not in nearly enough time. The second bottle that had been shaking was thrust at the Grabber, shattering just like the first bottle had. Except for this time, the bottle explodes with the flat sprite soda that Bruce refused to drink when the Grabber left it for them. He screams now, soda in his eyes and glass cutting into his skin. With the distraction, Vance - who had finally recollected himself - grabs a handful of the Grabber's greasy hair and throws a solid punch right into the man's very much broken nose.

The Grabber stumbles back, falling by the entrance of the basement, and Bruce forces his weak body to get up. He stumbles over, leaning onto Vance for support. Vance looks over at him, and Bruce can see Vance's eyes widen in shock. Bruce sees Vance's mouth open, but Bruce doesn't let him finish.

Bruce rips the blade from his stomach, letting out a loud groan and scream as he does before he holds the blade between him and Vance. Vance clearly wants to say something, to bring Bruce somewhere to get help. But as he stares at the blade, Bruce feels a warm hand wrap around his own around the blade.

Vance leans down and grabs the Grabber's hair, the Grabber too dazed and weak to possibly fight back. Vance stares for a second before his grip tightens.

"See you in hell, motherfucker." These were the final words that the Grabber ever got to hear before both Vance and Bruce put all their might into the thrust of the knife and plunge it straight through the Grabber's neck. The knife pierces through the soft flesh easily, and the Grabber's eyes widen as he claws at his neck in a frantic panic. But more quickly than ever, his eyes roll to the back of his head, pupils practically turning gray as the life drains from his eyes.

The Grabber thumps lifelessly against the stairs, and Bruce falls to his knees as the blood begins to pour out of him seamlessly.

Neither of them get time to relish in the satisfaction of their kill before Vance is pulling Bruce into his arms, and Bruce limp as he's carried. Vance quickly rushes up the stairs, the harsh barking from a dog ringing in his ears as he makes it to the front door.

His eyes widen when the door was locked with a bike lock, and his panic begins to arise, but Bruce leans up slightly in his arms, and he begins to input the code. Vance watches with panicked eyes as Bruce moves sluggishly, and he's quick to throw himself out the door the moment that it was unlocked. He rushes down the steps, and he's running toward the sidewalk.

For a second, Vance felt as if he was seeing the outside for the first time in forever. A breath of fresh air hits him, and he takes in several deep ones before his eyes meet with two other pairs.

Finney and Robin stared at Vance with a mixture of disbelief and shock. Vance stares at them and for a second he felt the intense urge to hug them, but the body in his arms no longer feels warm, and he drops the sidewalk ground and holds Bruce close.

"Bruce? Bruce- Fucking- Motherfucker, stay with me!" Vance shouts, shaking Bruce violently. Bruce's eyes slowly look over to Vance, hooded and clearly unfocused. Yet he smiles slightly, and a weak hand reaches up and gently caresses Vance's cheek.

"We did it," Bruce's voice is so weak , and it kills Vance's heart. Finney and Robin stared at the boy in horror, clearly confused and scared of what happened to them in that house to have gotten injuries like that. "We killed him."

"Yeah, we killed him. Now you need to stay alive so we can fucking celebrate, okay? So- So j-just-" Vance stutters over his words, a lump forming in his throat as he feels Bruce's hand fall from his cheek. Vance quickly looks up at Finney and Robin, ignoring their shocked gazes and opening up his mouth to scream. "HELP! HELP! CALL NINE ONE ONE!" He screams over and over, watching as the lights in the houses begin to light up one by one. Finney and Robin catch on because soon they're calling for help too, and parents begin to exit their homes to see the commotion. Vance holds Bruce the entire time, never letting him go and never letting Bruce out of his sight. He never let's go when officers tell him to let go, and never stops touching Bruce when paramedics arrive.

Throughout that whole time, Bruce doesn't move.

Chapter Text

Vance felt lost.

He felt lost as he gets ripped away from Bruce’s unmoving body. He felt lost when he watched paramedics feel for Bruce’s pulse and grow to have panicked expressions. He felt lost just not having Bruce by his side.

Bruce said they were never going to walk alone again. Vance held him to those words. He believed they were going to get out of this and never leave each other alone again. So why the hell did Vance feel so fucking alone?

Vance is finally able to shrug the officer's arms off his body, but he doesn't try running after the ambulance. Not after he was forced to watch them drive away with Bruce’s body. His breathing is ragged as he stares and he shakes his head.

Vance had been desperate to get the hell out of that basement since day one. Yet, now that he was finally free, he felt like he was still trapped in some sort of cage.

His eyebrows furrow at the thought of the Grabber actually winning in some sort of way by taking one of their lives, and the anger in him boils and he swings his arm to whatever was closest to him.

His hand stings as it makes contact with a police car, and he stares at the dent with hard eyes before the tears start to pour again.

“Bruce, we need you to calm down,” Despite his annoyed tone, Detective Wright still had some sort of relief yet worry in his tone. Vance glares over at him, somehow able to keep his hard gaze despite the fact that he felt his world was falling apart. “There was a dead body in there, did you-”

“Yeah,” Vance almost said that he and Bruce killed him. He almost said we . And it’s true. They both did kill him. But would Bruce get in trouble if they admitted to it? “Yeah, I fucking killed him. Fucker got less than what he deserved. I would do it a million times over if I could.” He practically growls, the officers looking to one another.

“Vance, we need you to answer a few questions,” Detective Miller tries a more gentle approach, but Vance doesn't buy it and immediately backs up.

“And I need you fuckers to get out of my way,” Vance says, immediately pivoting on his heel and heading straight towards where the hospital was. It would be a bit of a walk, but he wasn't about to just stand around while Bruce was on the brink of death. Vance refuses to believe that Bruce was dead.

Bruce wouldn't leave him alone. Bruce couldn't leave him alone. Vance wouldn't be able to go on.

Vance’s wrist is grabbed, and he has half the mind of just immediately swinging back at who grabbed him, but he’s met with all too familiar eyes, and he tenses in his tracks.

“Oh my god,” The woman utters under her breath, looking over to her husband with clear disbelief in her eyes. “Vance, baby, we thought- oh my god, you’re alive .” Vance’s mother breathes out. Vance watches with tearful eyes as his mother and father exchange a certain glance before they look back at him and get closer with open arms.

Vance pushes them away.

“No,” Vance practically whimpers out, sniffling a few times as he tries to get his erratic breathing under control. There were so many things happening at once. Flashing lights, people gathered around and having a million conversations at once, everyone staring at him like he was some anomaly. What, did people think he wasn't going to make it out of that shithole alive ? “No, you don't get to fucking do that,” Vance whispers out, and his mother holds a look of guilt on her face.

“That is no way to speak to your mother,” His father says in a strict tone, and Vance almost wants to laugh.

“Months,” He starts, getting slightly in his dad's face. “ Fucking months of your son being missing, and all you can think about is how I talk to my damn mom?” Vance’s words are filled with venom, and he seems to get his point across relatively quickly because his father doesn't say anything to rebuttal what he said. Vance then looks at the two of them, unsure of which face he wanted to see less. “How was the fucking party of your son being missing?”

“It was a memorial . We were mourning you,” His mother attempts to justify, but Vance already feels like he’s heard enough.

“I have seen parents, who hold onto the hope that their kid is alive day and fucking night. Month after month, year after year, still missing posters being put up and investigation teams being put out,” Vance starts, and he watches as his parent's faces are filled with guilty grief. “You two gave up the second I went missing.”

“That is not true,” Vance’s father's voice is strong. “You’re mother and I were worried sick. We’re elated to see that you're alive. You’re our son. Our pride and joy. We were praying in and out of church that you were alive and well.” He reasons, but Vance just shakes his head.

He remembers staring out that barred window every day. Always waiting for someone to stop by. When he saw police cars drive by the first week, there was hope in his chest that people did care. That people really were worried about Vance Hopper. Yet after that first week, he barely saw any cars. He barely saw anyone even come down the damn street. He watched as people cared less and less.

Yet when Bruce was down there, it was as if the entire town was on a search.

“You two,” Vance starts, his throat tightening as he takes steps backward. His parents don't follow. “Are the last faces that I want to see.” He says. He watches the tears fall from his mother's face, he watches his father's eyes grow dull and upset, but he can't bring himself to care. He loved his parents. He did. But right now, he just can't. Maybe it was because Bruce was the only thing on his mind. Maybe it was because, after those two months - no, it was probably three with how long Bruce was down there too - Vance couldn't imagine adapting back to what the real world was like. Maybe he was so used to the horrifying torture he went through that he can't imagine going back to being loved and nurtured.

No… that wouldn't make sense. Because then why would he care for Bruce so much?

“We just thought that…” His mother starts, her voice shaking as she wipes at her eyes. “We couldn't believe that our son, our strong and independent son, would really be stuck somewhere. You always put up a fight, Vance. So we thought that… we thought you went down with one.” She finishes, finally breaking down into a sob as the entire situation hits her all at once. Vance has to take in a few breaths before he turns and begins his journey toward the hospital.

He can feel a presence at both his sides, and when he glances to his left, he can see both Finney and Robin walking alongside him, a determined look on both of their faces. In a way, that warmed Vance’s heart. Knowing that he wasn't the only one who cared for Bruce.

When he glances to his right, there’s no one there. No one was even walking behind them to illicit the feeling. But Vance could feel someone. He could feel people.

He stares for a long second before he looks back forward.

A car pulls up to them, and Vance looks at the car to see who it was. A cop car with two detectives in it. Vance stares at Detective Miller and Wright for a long moment before Miller takes in a deep breath and motions for the three to get in.

“Hospitals too far of a walk. Let us take you.”

Vance would never admit it, but he was eternally grateful that he didn't have to walk to the hospital.

When they get there, the officers barely even stop the car before Vance is practically jumping out and rushing towards the hospital doors. He thrusts his body towards the doors and they fly open. Everyone in the room looks absolutely flabbergasted to see him, the television highlighting the fact that he was just discovered only moments ago. As Vance rushes by walking nurses and visitors, he can hear their whispers.

”How long had he been gone? Almost four months?”

”Oh great. Vance Hopper is back. Police are going to be more active now that he’s not missing.”

”Wasn't he found with the Yamada baseball star? I heard that he was bloodied up pretty badly.”

”I bet Vance tried to kill him.”

Despite the whispers and the rumors, Vance ignores them and gets to the front desk. The woman sitting there looks petrified to see him, and Vance doesn't realize how he looks. Nor does he care. He was so close to Bruce. He just had to see him. Had to know that he was okay. The woman doesn't even get a word out before Vance is speaking.

“Bruce. Bruce Yamada. What room is he in?” Vance’s voice is urgent. The question sounds more like a demand than anything else. The woman at the front desk is still completely shocked, and her mouth opens to speak, but she can't seem to find the right words at that exact point and time.

“I- there’s no visitors right now. He’s in emergency surgery and-”

“Surgery - so he’s alive?” Vance asks, and the lady looks over to a buff-looking man with a panicked gaze. Vance doesn't care that she was looking for security right now. He wasn't going to do anything crazy. At least, he’ll try not to.

“Just barely. We have a lot of our staff focusing on him, they truly need the utmost time and don't need distractions.” Despite her clear fear, she still keeps it professional, and clearly takes pity on Vance. “Uhm… once he’s available, I can allow you to visit him. What is your affiliation with him? I can’t just allow friends to visit.”

Vance stares at her and the cogs in his brain turn. He takes in deep breaths as he feels he can somewhat calm down, and he looks over to Finney and Robin. They stare at him with confused gazes before he looks down and back at the woman.

When he raises his eyes to finally meet her eyes again, he himself doesn't believe the words that fall from his lips.

The security guard that the front desk lady keeps a close eye on Vance, who sits in one of the chairs with an endlessly bouncing leg. Vance’s eyes can't focus on one thing. No matter how hard he tries to just disassociate with the entire situation, his brain can't stop jumping from subject to subject. Is Bruce okay? Is the Grabber fully dead? Why are his parents pretending to care? Are they pretending to care?

Vance is knocked out of his thoughts when there’s a warm hand on his knee, and he stiffens and looks up. He meets the gaze of his parents, who look at him with an unreadable expression. His eyes glance down slightly, and he meets the sight of fresh clothes and a bottle of shampoo.

“We uhm,” his mother starts, looking at her husband. When no more words fall from her lips, the man seems to understand, and he continues where she left off.

“We assumed that you would want to be here till you could see him,” his voice is significantly softer than it had been earlier, and Vance stares in some sort of shock. “We’re going to be in the other room. We understand you need pace from us, but… it’s been months. We can’t just leave you alone.” He admits, and Vance stares at the clothes and then at his parents. For a long moment, he doesn't move, paralyzed from everything hitting him at once. Eventually, he stands and gently takes the clothes, not caring for the blood that gets smudged onto them.

“Thanks.” He says simply, and his parents stare at him for a long moment. His mother’s hand reaches out just barely, but she eventually forces it to rest back at her side. Vance more than appreciates that. When they leave, the security guards lead Vance to the showers, and Vance finally strips down and lets the hot water hit him.

The feeling felt foreign. He didn't get to shower for months, he knows that he must have smelled like shit. So, even though the security guard told him to not take long, Vance took as long as he pleased. He lets the water hit his scalp just right, relishes in the way it runs down his body, and washes all of the ick away. He’s sure to be as thorough as possible, not leaving a single area untouched at all. Vance is sure that he’s washed his body at least four times before he finally gets to his hair.

He embarrassedly asked the security guard if there was some sort of comb for him, which the guard slides one under the curtain. Vance utters thanks as he grabs the comb and the shampoo, taking in a deep breath before he begins to wash his hair.

He cringes at how matted his hair was. At how many knots his fingers and the comb caught at. Vance was always so careful with his hair. He loved his hair. To feel it in such a bad condition made him feel worse than he already did, but in a way, it reminded him that he escaped that hell of a basement.

That he and Bruce escaped that hell of a basement.

Would Vance’s sheer hope alone be enough to keep Bruce in this world? To keep Bruce in the realm of the living and not the ghost one?

When Vance finally finishes his shower and he gets himself dressed, he steps toward a mirror to make sure he was somewhat presentable. Which should be laughable for the reason he’s doing it. Vance wasn't vain about his looks. He’s aware he looked good, and he was proud that there wasn't a lot of effort involved (if you didn't count his hair), but there was something especially hurting his ego right now.

He stares at his frame. He wears a black shirt that he remembers so clearly fitting him much tighter. It was more snug around the shoulders area. It actually hugged his waist just a little. But now it fitted as if it were an extra large. He swallows hard. His pajama pants had to be folded twice in order to hang from his hips properly. His hair wasn't stylized, which was reasonable considering it was still drying from its heavenly shower, but for some reason, it only made him more self-conscious.

Another thing that he wishes he could kill the Grabber again for.

Eventually, he makes it back to the waiting room, noticing Finney and Robin dozing off on each other. There’s a pang of jealousy in Vance’s heart as he stares at them, and he swallows hard before looking away. He makes his way to the corner of the room and sits down, pulling his knees to his chest as he rests his head against them.

God, he was so tired. He felt like it would be impossible for him to be able to fall asleep after everything that happened, yet his eyes were growing heavy.

At some point, a flood of people arrived, and a group of nurses asked if he could come with them to a room. Vance was reminded of the cuts and bruises all over his body when in the shower, but none of them mattered to him as much as Bruce does. Vance denies going to a room when he realizes that doing such a thing would mean that he wouldn't be able to immediately get to Bruce when the time was available, but he couldn't fend off the many hands that were grabbing at him. His mind conjures up the image of the Grabber grabbing him like this, and his heart races, but with every opening of his eyes, he sees that he isn't in that basement anymore. He doesn't have to worry about ever being down there again.

He doesn't fight off any of the grips. He doesn't stop people from undressing him and tending to his wounds.

He just drifts off to his much-needed slumber, relishing in the dream of him and Bruce never being down in that basement.

Vance watches the TV as Billy and Griffin’s bodies are taken out from the house just across from the Grabber’s home.

His heart aches as he watches the TV, turning up the volume with a weak arm because the damn heart monitor's beeping was driving him crazy.

He was sore all over. Now that his body had a chance to rest without being tense and fearful, he was thankful that the nurses and doctors worked their magic. There were bandages and tubes sticking out from what felt like all over his body, yet his mind can only think of what Bruce looked like. He could only think about what was going on with Bruce. Bruce this, Bruce that; normally Vance would do anything to get those thoughts out of his head, but not this time. No, he wanted nothing but Bruce on his mind. Vance believed that if, for even just a second, he let Bruce escape his mind, he would lose him forever.

The cameraman catches a glimpse of Griffin’s face, and Vance’s stomach lurches, and he turns to the side and dry heaves into a trashcan. To see their bodies were different. Vance has seen death before. Dead bodies. But never of people he knew. He never believed death could happen to people he knew. To people he liked. There was a certain pain in his chest that he couldn't describe knowing that he was never going to be able to see the two again. Knew he would never hear one of Griffin’s little jokes whenever the two were both in the grab-n-go, or never be able to see Billy early in the morning toss a newspaper to his door and wave in a friendly manner. Vance never talked to Billy often, but just those small interactions made him smile.

He remembers seeing both Billy and Griffin getting close. Griffin expressed to him that he never felt seen until he was with Billy, and Vance couldn't help but smile at the memory.

At least they're together.

Eventually, Vance falls asleep again. When he wakes up, he sees both Robin and Finney sitting in the chairs to his right, and his parents sitting in the chairs to his left. He blinks a few times, noticing everyone wearing different clothes. He cranes his head to the window, his eyes squinting at the light that blares through the curtains before he groans. His body felt worse than before, but he’s aware that’s a sign of healing. He’s been to the gym. He knows that feeling.

“Hey,” His mother starts. “How are you feeling?” She asks, reaching forwards and stroking some of Vance’s hair away from his forehead. He stares at her for a moment before looking away and taking in a deep breath.

“Like shit,” Vance admits. Robin snorts and Finney quickly elbows him as his father looks at him with slightly scolding eyes. “How long has it been?” Vance asks his mouth beyond dry and his stomach growling wildly.

“You’ve been asleep for two days,” His mother says, and he stares at her with wide eyes.

Had it actually been two days? He feels like he only had his eyes closed for a few moments.

“I thought the human dies whenever it doesn’t have water for like, two days?” Vance says, and Finney laughs softly.

“It’s three days that a person can survive without water.” He says and Vance raises an eyebrow.

“I haven't drank something in like, four days,” Vance says, and everyone in the room lets out a small chuckle. “What the fuck is this shit in my arms?”

“Language,” Vance’s father calls out, and Vance rolls his eyes but smiles slightly.

“What do you think it is?” Robin asked, and Vance thought for a second before shrugging.

“Medical shit.” Robin laughs at the answer.

“Yeah, well that medical shit kept your ass hydrated.” He says, and Vance lets out a light hum of acknowledgment. Vance looks around again, recollecting all of his thoughts when it hit him.

“How’s Bruce? Do any of you know?” His voice changed from its relatively chill tone to a more urgent one, and everyone’s smiles drop as they look at each other. Vance feels his heart run cold. “What? Can I visit him?”

“Yes, but-” his mother doesn't get to finish her sentence before Vance was ripping several needles from his body and rushed out of the room.

The machine beeps and flatlines quickly, which immediately gets a nurse to rush into the room, but Vance was already hobbling towards the front desk.

When he gets to the front desk, he sees the same lady quickly glance at him with wide, concerned eyes.

“Where is Bruce’s room?” It was more of a demand than a question and the woman swallows hard.

“Uh- down the hall, room 104- aren't you supposed to be resting-” She doesn't get to finish her sentence before Vance is rushing to the room she specified the hope causing his heart to race.

When he throws open the door, he could practically feel everything in his body wash over with relief when he sees a sleepy Bruce sitting up in a hospital bed, staring at the door with baggy eyes.

They just stare at each other. Vance in relief and Bruce in shock.

“Vance-” Bruce doesn't get very far with his sentence before Vance rushes to the bed and is immediately wrapping his arms around Bruce’s shoulders.

There was something Vance felt inside of him that connected. Like two missing puzzle pieces finally clicking together. His heart beats as if it was finally whole, and when Vance pulls back from the hug slightly to stare at Bruce, both of them have that look in their eyes. Without much hesitation, Vance presses their lips together.

Bruce’s fingers gently grip Vance’s hair, pulling him closer while Vance has to place his hands on the bed to prevent himself from falling onto Bruce and possibly hurting him. But their kiss is strong. It’s more passionate than the ones they had in that basement. There’s more feeling than Vance could've ever imagined. When they eventually pull away, Vance rests his forehead against Bruce’s, their noses touching as they breathe against each other heavily. When they get the chance to recollect themselves, Vance stares at Bruce before smirking.

“You fucker. We escape that shithole and you decide to nearly die on me?” He playfully accuses, and Bruce grins wide, one of his hands leaving Vance’s hair and taking one of his hands. He brings it up to his cheek, leaning into the touch. Vance feels his face heat up more than it already was at the action.

“I didn't do it on purpose,” Bruce says with a light giggle, only causing Vance to smile even more. God, Vance almost felt pathetic with how much being around Bruce made him want to smile. Almost. It made his heart do flips of joy to not only see that Bruce was alive but still somehow able to make Vance so damn happy . “I wasn't going to give that poor excuse of a man to keep living. I had to make sure that he was going to die.”

Both Bruce and Vance’s mood diminishes a little when he mentions it, and they're silent for a bit as they think back to the actions down in the basement. The way they worked in tandem with one another in order to kill the Grabber. Vance only regrets one thing, and it was the fact that he couldn't make the man suffer.

“God, just-” Vance took in a deep breath as he looks at Bruce’s lips and then back up to his eyes. “Don't do that again. Fuck, Bruce, you almost died . I… I would never be able to forgive myself if I let you go like that.” Vance says softly, and Bruce meets his gaze with somber eyes. Vance tries to keep the waterworks from approaching, but his eyes blur with forming tears.

“I told you we were never gonna walk alone again,” Bruce says, his voice a little shaky, yet determined. “I meant that, Vance. We aren't going to leave each other alone. Or, well, I'm not going to leave you alone.” He says a lame attempt at humor at the end. Vance lets out a single laugh and allows a few tears to fall. Bruce reaches forward and cups Vance’s face, wiping the tears with his thumbs as his eyes trail down to his lips.

“I’m never gonna leave you alone, either,” Vance says, leaning forward to capture Bruce’s lips again. They aren't as eager this time. This kiss wasn't to confirm that the other was there, that the other was alive , but to reminisce about what was happening, in what they currently have.

Vance is quick to pull away when the door bursts open, flashbacks to the Grabber storming into the room hitting him like a truck but disappearing as fast as lightning. He lets out a deep breath when he sees Bruce’s parents rush into the room, their eyes widen as they see their son.

Bruce’s mother yells something in a foreign language with a tone of relief as she rushes to her bedridden son. Bruce’s father does the same, practically pushing Vance aside to tend to their son. Vance, while he didn't want to be so far away from Bruce (he was only at the foot of the bed, but it was still too far, okay?), allowed the parents to tend to their son. In a way, Vance envied it, but he couldn't be upset. His parents tried to comfort and coddle him, but he pushed them away immediately. He swallows hard. He would have to make up with them later, in some way.

Bruce’s mother eventually looks over to Vance as the front desk lady rushes in, breathless. Vance’s eyebrows raise when he sees that she had been running in high heels.

“Why are you in here?” Her voice is accusatory, which at first caught Vance off guard, but then he remembered who he was. He doesn't doubt that the Yamada family thinks that he somehow dragged Bruce into the mess that he was in. He doesn't blame anyone for thinking that. Does it anger him? Of course. But he gets it .

The front desk lady takes in a deep breath before he looks at Vance, then furrowing her eyebrows.

“Oh, Vance? He’s allowed in here because of his relationship with the patient.” She says simply, and Vance feels his blood turn cold.

“ Relationship ? What relationship?” She says, and Vance swallows hard as the front desk lady seems to put two and two together, her head slowly looking towards Vance.

“Well, Vance said that he was Bruce’s boyfriend.”

The room is silent, and Vance can feel everyone's eyes on him. He feels his heart rate quicken and he catches his bottom lip between his teeth, feeling his body heating up at an embarrassing rate.

“Bruce doesn't have a boy-”

“Yes, I do.”

Vance immediately looks up at Bruce with wide eyes, seeing the other stare at him with warm eyes. Bruce’s father looks at his son and then Vance with completely surprised eyes, as does Bruce’s mother. She opens her mouth to speak, but Bruce beats her to it.

“Actually, ma’am, can you remove my parents from the room for a second?” Bruce asks, his tone respectful and kind. His parents stare at him with completely astonished gazes, but the woman does as she's told and escorts them out.

“I need Vance to leave too. He’s supposed to be in his own hospital room.” She says, her voice lightly scolding. Vance shoots her a sheepish grin.

“It’s just for a moment. Please,” Bruce says, and she stares at Bruce for a second before letting out a sigh and closing the door. When Vance hears the door fully close, he rushes to Bruce with confused eyes.

“I am- fuck Bruce, I'm sorry. I just… I needed to see you and they said I couldn't see you just as a friend so…” he feels his face heat up as he tries to explain himself, only for his words to be cut off and replaced with lips against his own once again.

Vance melts into the kiss immediately, moving his lips along with Bruce’s before they both eventually pull back. He brings himself back to reality and lightly shakes his head as he stares at Bruce with confused eyes.

“What? I’m- you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad at kissing my boyfriend?” Vance feels those annoying butterflies make their way into his stomach and he can barely repress the grin coming onto his face. He tries to find some sort of quick comeback that he usually has, but when his mind comes up with nothing, all he can rely on is some sort of subject change.

“Why did you kick your parents out? Are they homophobic?” He asks, and Bruce hums, hooking a finger into the collar of Vance’s hospital gown and pulling him closer, grinning as he stares at him with half-lidded eyes.

“No. I just wanted to kiss you again without a bunch of watching eyes.”

Vance melts into the next few kisses like microwaved butter.

Vance and Bruce slide into their booth, Vance aiding Bruce as the younger of the two winces at the strain on his side. Once they're seated, Finney and Robin stare at them with somewhat humorous eyes.

“What?” Vance asks in his usual aggressive tone. Finney and Robin look at each other with somewhat suppressed smiles before they look back to Vance. Bruce just casually reads the menu with an arm wrapped around Vance’s waist.

“Nothing, it’s just,” Finney stares at them and raises his eyebrows slightly. “You and Bruce. People said opposites attract but… damn, I didn't think people as opposite as you two could actually get together.” He admits, and Vance rolls his eyes with a light scowl.

“Shut the fuck up. At least we weren't the most obvious thing for three fucking years , but didn't date because oh, what if he doesn't actually like me back .” Vance says, eyeing Robin. Robin has a suppressed smile on his face and looks away from a laughing Finney and a giggling Bruce.

“Be nice,” Bruce whispers with a light elbow to Vance’s side. Vance rolls his eyes.

“Oh, don't act like you weren't the one who told me that first,” Vance says, watching as Finney and Robin look at Bruce in shock. Bruce hides his face with the menu as Robin curses in Spanish and they all laugh.

Eventually, their laughter dies down and they have small chatter. Despite there being so much room in the rounded booth, the two couples sit across from each other as they eat their food. A waiter playfully pointed it out and they claimed that they want to be able to talk to one another without craning their necks, but they all knew the real reason.

There would've been two more people here with them had fate not chosen their demise.

Eventually, they finish all their food, and Finney claims he has to go home due to it getting relatively late. Robin offers to take him home, which Finney agrees to in a flustered manner. Bruce and Vance exit the restaurant, and Bruce assumes that was the end of it, but Vance takes his hand and begins to walk with him somewhere.

“Where are we going?” Bruce asks with a smile, and Vance pretends to think about that for a long moment.

“Somewhere,” Vance says simply, and Bruce rolls his eyes. Vance laughs softly. “What? I’m not lying!” He raises one of his hands in an innocent motion, and Bruce just laughs as he walks a little closer to Vance.

They continue to walk in comfortable silence, the sun slowly making its way down the horizon as time passes.

Eventually, they get to where Vance was leading them, and Bruce takes in a light breath.

It was the baseball field.

“I know that the triple date with Finney and his whipped dog and Billy and Griffin technically counts as a date, I wanted us to have a uhm… to have that proper date that we were supposed to have,” Vance says, his tone a little shy as he says it.

“Wanna race to first base?” Bruce asks casually, and Vance looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanna be completely smoked, be my-” Vance didn't get to finish his sentence before Bruce was suddenly running towards the base. Vance tenses and immediately gets worried (which is so unlike him, but Bruce does unspeakable things to Vance’s personality its not even funny) because of Bruce’s injuries. So, like any good boyfriend, Vance is immediately running after him.

Bruce makes it to first base by a landslide, staring at Vance with a wide grin as Vance finally gets over to it. Bruce holds his side, seething slightly at the pain, warming slightly at the fact that Vance holds him gently as if to ease the pain. They sit there in an embrace for a second before Bruce takes Vance over to the bleachers so they could sit down.

Upon sitting, they both stare out at the sunset, the pretty orange glow actually greeting their skin directly. Not through a barred window in an underground room. Vance looks down at their hands that were close, but not touching. There’s an intense urge to connect them, to just hold Bruce’s hand in his own, but his nerves take over. Normally they wouldn't. Vance never got nervous when it came to people. Yet here he was, getting nervous over whether or not he could hold Bruce’s hand.

Part of the blame was towards the Grabber. Most of it was to the Grabber, honestly. Vance had always been so careful when it came to touching Bruce. Even with kisses, he’s always so careful to make sure that Bruce was completely comfortable.

On the bright side though, Bruce always seemed to read his mind, because their hands are soon connected. Fingers interlocking with one another and exchanging the warm heat that they both have.

“Sorry if it couldn't be perfect,” Vance says softly, and Bruce looks at him with a smile. “The date, I mean. I’m sure that when we first planned it, we would've done more.”

“Vance,” Bruce starts, watching as Vance’s blue eyes meet his with a somewhat insecure expression. Bruce leans forward and pecks Vance’s lips, his smile never fading. “It’s perfect.”

Bruce lays his head on Vance’s shoulder, his eyes closing as he basks in the warmth and the company of his boyfriend. There is nothing he wouldn't do for Vance. To protect him. He’s already asked his family to put him back into those self-defense classes and was very easily able to convince Vance’s parents to do the same. And Bruce knows for a fact that Vance would do anything for him in return. They meant it when they said they were never going to do anything alone.

And they meant it when they said that they were never going to walk alone again.