I don't give a damn about my reputation

Would you like to see a magic trick?

TW- VIOLENCE AND SLURS

Bruce POV

today is the day

The game that could determine my future

Scouts from pristine schools will be here

You must win

Win, Bruce

Win

"Hey, Yamada, get out there! The match is starting."

A loud voice snaps me out of my trance as I glance beside me, my coach lent against a bleacher

"Yes coach. Sorry." I reply, shaking the nerves from my hands

"I don't need sorry Yamada, I need your head in the game. These guys are tough, but you gotta show you're tougher."

I swallow slowly, my baseball bat in my right hand slipping slightly

"Yes coach."

"Good," he cheers, patting my shoulder "good luck out there Yamada."

His figure disappears around the corner as I take a deep breath

I've got this. I can win this. Sure, I've missed a few practices but I won't fail. I will win. I have to win

Vance POV

Shit

I'm late

I dust off my jacket, looking for my best pair of jeans. My hair freshly combed and fluffed, my bracelets tied gently around my wrists and a single rose in my left hand

Yes, I know roses are fucking basic, but I'm trying

I'm trying

A quick dive through my clothes and I find my jeans, torn slightly at the knees. Pulling them up, I loop the belt through them and head for the door

I tiptoe down my stairs and head for the door

"Hold it boy."

A chill runs through me, a vile and cruel voice echoing in my ears

"Where do you think your going?"

"No where sir." I gulp, turning around slowly

"Don't talk back to me faggot," he slurs, bringing a bottle to his lips. He takes a sip, hiccuping as he rests it back to his hip

"You going to see a girl?"

"Kind of"

"What do you mean, kind of?!" He yells, slapping the rose from my hand, stamping on its delicate petals

"You a faggot, kid? Is my pathetic son a faggot?!"

Suddenly a fit of rage grew inside of me as I spoke

"Yeah. And fucking what?"

His eyes burn through me, his knuckles turning white around the glass bottle

"What did you just say, boy?"

"I said," I began, standing my ground "Yeah, I am a faggot. I'm a faggot. I'm a dirty little homo. Everything you wished I weren't. But guess the fuck what? I couldn't give a fuck. And that rose you stamped on is for my boyfriend."

He stomps towards me, gripping my shirt as he slams me into a wall. A slight crack sounds as my back hits the wall.

"You filthy fucking homo." He spits, the smell of alcohol in his breath

"Wanna know something else dad? I fucked him. That's right. I fucked a boy!"

He practically roars as he throws me against the wall, stamping on me as I curl into a tight ball. By the time he had finished I had already blocked out his words, just had to deal with the violence.