Chapter Text
Song to listen to while reading:
Blondie-Current Joys
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Thursday, March 10th, 1978, 7:15 PM
Bruce Yamada had just finished his baseball game—against Finney Blake's team—and was riding his bike home. He glanced to his left, spotting two girls he didn't recognize waving and giggling.
"Hi Bruce!" they exclaimed, making Bruce grin and nod his head like a casual 'hey.'
As you can probably guess, he was, in fact, a bit of a lady's man.
He was probably one of the most popular kids at his school, even though he didn't have any actual high school friends. He was a loner—well, not just kind of—he was a loner. All his friends were still in middle school. Griffin would probably catch up by the time Bruce was a junior.
"Fuck you, dickhead!"
Bruce heard a somewhat familiar, distinct, raspy voice call out. He looked over and spotted a full head of dirty blonde curls next to the payphone at the Grab N Go, the boy seemingly arguing over the phone.
"No—Mama, are you serious? All I need are a few fucking quarters!"
From what Bruce could see, the guy had a death grip on the receiver; his knuckles were practically red from squeezing it.
"Okay! Okay! I'll stop cursing!" the boy said.
...Wait, why was Bruce here again?
Oh, right. Chips.
Anyway, Bruce began walking past the boy, reaching into his pocket, maybe to find a few quarters to help him out.
"Hey! I overheard you needed quarters; I've got a few if you'd—"
Bruce didn't even get to finish before the boy slammed the phone back onto the wall and turned to yell:
"Leave me alone, faggot!"
The blonde snapped before storming off, fists clenched so tight Bruce thought he must have a stick up his ass... but hey, to each their own.
"Oh well." Bruce shrugged, walking into the shop to grab what he needed.
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And yes, the blonde was, in fact, Pinball Vance Hopper. And he was pissed.
Vance had that "I'm not a pussy, so fuck you" mentality, so Bruce trying to help him?
Not it.
He hated it.
He wasn't the type to say thank you or even acknowledge help.
He didn't talk to people unless he was angry as shit.
Vance was a bully, and he was confident enough to admit that.
He was ready—and prepared—to live his life alone. Probably ending up in prison or jail. Same difference.
It's not like Vance had a bad life or anything. He just... took advantage of it.
His dad, Vincent, was a cop, so he really didn't give a shit about what Vance was supposed to be like. His mother, Vera—bless her soul—was a kind woman.
Vance looked exactly like her, a carbon copy, except their personalities clashed hard.
She loved him either way, but they fought a lot. Just like earlier.
Anyway, enough about his parents.
Back to Vance.
Vance didn't give a damn about his appearance—you could tell from the dirt under his nails and the blood stains on his jacket.
(If you asked him where the blood came from, he probably wouldn't even know.)
After everything today, Vance realized he needed someone new to torment.
The same people were getting boring.
Today just gave him a new person—and a new reason why.
Well... that's not true.
There was never a reason why.
He just needed someone else to be pissed at.
Someone who wasn't himself.
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Next time: a new target
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