BRANCE + RINNEY

brance - guitar strings and soft touches

Bruce was new to all of this. The feelings, the touches. Being loved. His family never directed their affection towards him, but more so towards each other. He was happy they all got along, sure, but sometimes it got lonely.

Vance never made him feel lonely.

It was something warm that burned in him. Ignited him with butterflies and lit bonfires from summer dates. It was more comforting than his bed, which he drowned in every time a sob racked through his body. It was more assuring than his mother, someone who only spewed words of hatred and loathing.

Vance was home, figuratively and emotionally speaking. He was everything that Bruce wanted. Everything that he had dreamt of since he was little, knees tucked to the nub of his chin as tears pooled in his eyes and reddened his nose. Vance was everything.

"This is weird. I'm making this weird. I'm sorry." Bruce stared down at his hands, watching as they shook with each breath pushing past his lips. Vance slid his hand into Bruce's, his smile seemingly invisible to the other's downturned eyes. "You're not making this weird. Stop overthinking, it's alright."

Bruce never noticed how tight his chest so often was, or how his breathing seemed to turn ragged at any sudden noise. He hadn't noticed how he seemed to tremble when doing things the wrong way, how his hands would shake even when being held down. He never noticed how many people would think he was weird for this, something foreign in a sea of neutrality.

"I'm sorry." Bruce's hold was tight, something Vance never commented on. "You're okay. This is okay." Bruce sniffled and rubbed a circle into the back of Vance's hand, drawing was his childhood comfort. Vance let him continue for as long as he needed, the smile on his face remaining unmoved.

Bruce couldn't remember the last time he had seen his parents, his little sister's smile. He figures he must've left them months ago, couldn't be a year. Not yet. He remembers how cold it was when he had left, how he had cursed himself for not wearing a warmer jacket.

He had been crying when he bumped into Vance. Even more so when Vance pulled him into his chest and held him still, grounding him from the ocean he was surrendering his life to.

"It's always quiet here." Bruce had stopped his tracing, now curled into a ball that had tucked itself into the dip of Vance's side. "Said you liked it quiet. Want a change?" Vance ran a hand through Bruce's hair, which had began to tickle the bottom of his neck with aged growth. "No. This, this is okay." Vance hummed and pressed a feather of a kiss to Bruce's earlobe, smiling when the boy squirmed because of it.

Bruce was home too, in a way. Vance never had a caring family. He was an only sibling too, which meant he tended to be lonely more times than not. His parents, well, their arguments would be the only source of communication for the week. Something that never stopped, but never seemed to continue in a sense.

Bruce was everything that Vance's family wasn't. Everything that he had wanted them to be. Bruce was everything.

"You're working on a song right? On your guitar." Bruce yawned out a few select words, covering it up with a hand though it did nothing to muffle the sound. "Yeah. Yeah, I have been. Wanna hear it?" Vance sat up in his spot on the sofa, consequently making Bruce do the same. "Oh, definitely." Bruce smiled wide and pressed a quick kiss to Vance's nose before the blonde stood up.

In less than five minutes, Vance was sat Indian-style in front of Bruce with his guitar perched on his legs. Bruce was smiling at him, hands clasped together in wait underneath his chin.

"Okay, uh, this is a cover. Meaning it's someone else's song, I changed a word or two of it to fit. You'll get what I mean when I start." Vance's knee was bouncing, the wood of the guitar thudding softly against his pants as he began to strum a collection of chords. Bruce kept quiet, wanting nothing more than to just enjoy the moment.

"Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my Ma' and Pa'
Not the way that I do love you
Well, holy moly, me oh my, you're the apple of my eye
Boy, I've never loved one like you
Man, oh, man, you're my best friend, I scream it to the nothingness
There ain't nothing that I need
Well, hot and heavy pumpkin pie, chocolate candy, Jesus Christ
Ain't nothing please me more than you"

Bruce and Vance had been dancing in the rain, the speakers of a nearby store crackling with the sound of music.

"Oh, home, let me come home
Home is wherever I'm with you
Oh, home, let me come home
Home is wherever I'm with you
La-la-la-la, take me home
Mother, I'm coming home"

Vance had grabbed Bruce by the hand, twirling him through a fit of soft giggles. The sound of the music in the speakers seemed to play louder.

"I'll follow you into the park, through the jungle, through the dark
Boy, I never loved one like you
Moats and boats and waterfalls, alleyways and pay phone calls
I been everywhere with you
We laugh until we think we'll die, barefoot on a summer night
Nothing new is sweeter than with you
And in the streets, we run afree, like it's only you and me
Geez, you're something to see"

Bruce had laughed loud, though the noise couldn't quite drown out the lyrics of the song playing. Both boys had heard the verses, but one word stood out the most.

"Oh, home, let me come home
Home is whenever I'm with you
Oh, home, let me come home
Home is wherever I'm with you
Home, let me come home
Home is whenever I'm with you
Oh, home, let me come home
Home is wherever I'm with you"

Home.