THE BLACK PHONE IMAGINES/PREFERENCES

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 | vance hopper

Vance Hopper couldn't last a day without arguing with someone. It doesn't always end with a physical fight, but it typically does. Vance's short temper was something you had to get used to if you got to know him. 

Today, Vance was late to your date at the park. You were reasonably worried, although he was always late. You felt something was wrong, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

After staring at your watch, you heard footsteps approaching behind you. Turning around, you saw the curly-haired boy standing in front of you. As your eyes trailed down to his clothes, you recognized a dark red stain on the hem of his shirt.

"Hey," Vanced mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets suspiciously. 

"Hi?" You responded skeptically. "Is that blood on your shirt?" You pointed at Vance's stained clothes as he attempted to hide them."

"I don't know."

"You know what it is. Now tell me," you said. Sometimes, it was exhausting to ensure Vance wasn't arrested for assault. As much as it frustrated you, you always had to look out for him no matter what. You loved him.

"So, is that blood on your shirt? Or some juice?"

Vance looked down and started messing with the fabric on his ripped jeans. "I don't know. Maybe?"

You get annoyed at Vance's unclear answers, but you notice that Vance didn't take his hands out of his pockets since he sat there. Curiously, you grabbed his wrist suddenly and pulled it out, revealing cuts and bruises on his knuckles.

"Ugh," you grumbled, yanking him out of his seat. You began to take him home to get him cleaned up.

"What got you into this mess?" You questioned, glancing at his hands again. Fortunately, there were only minor scratches, but you were worried about the person Vance beat up.

"I don't know."

"You can't answer 'I don't know' to every single fucking question you get, Hopper."

Vance sighed, his wrist still being held by your hand. "There was this guy that wouldn't stop messing with me."

You opened the door carefully before leading him into the bathroom. You kneeled, opening the cabinet under the sink before taking one of the many first aid kits.

"What did he do?" You asked, opening the container and taking out the supplies you needed. Carefully, you took some cleansing wipes and dabbed Vance's hand. Vance slightly winced because of the sting, but you ignored it. 

"I don't know. He was purposely bumping the pinball machine and was talking shit."

"You know he only did that to get a reaction out of you, right?" You said, cutting the bandage and carefully wrapping it around Vance's hand before getting the adhesive tape and gently putting it on.

Finally, Vance's cuts were successfully treated. You returned the first-aid kit to the cabinet as Vance rambled about the boy he beat up.

"And he laughed at me after I lost. You know, I lost because of him! What an asshole," Vance leaned on the bathroom counter. 

"That's all—"

"Also, he was mocking my looks. 'Making fun of my hair and shit. Well, who's the one that has a girlfriend? Not him. That's for sure," Vance continued, unintentionally cutting you off. 

You held in your laugh. As much as you were upset with Vance, you couldn't help but laugh at why he beat the poor boy up.

Sometimes, Vance would open up. Like these times when he would ramble about random stuff as you watched and listened. You found this something charming about him, but you never told him that. 

"Then, I got kicked out! What a bunch of bullshit. He was the one that started it."

"Did you start the physical fight?"

Vance hesitated before picking at the fabric of the bandage, trying to avoid the conversation."

"...Maybe."

A chuckle escaped your lips as he stared at you, confused.

"What?"

"Nothing. Let's go," you suggested before excitedly linking your arms in his, grinning.

"What? So you're... not mad at me?" Vance mumbled. You shake your head. Vance attempted to free himself from your grasp, but you only held on tighter. 

"Ugh. You're lucky I like you, Y/n."

—12/20/2023