Six minutes shit

Order #1

(Trigger warnings are self-harm and self hatred.)

Order up! One hot and fresh stuffed crust on white dough with parmesan cheese, pineapple, and extra sausage for gingerkpopfan !

Bruce stared down solemnly at the two photographs in front of him. He missed his dad, he really really missed him. He wasn’t thinking about…someone else…, he tried not to think about him, but rather Mr. Pasternack. His real dad, or at the very least, the person who had been the most real to him.

Bruce understood that he had to go away for long periods of time on the oil rigs, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Bruce had only been back in the house for a couple of weeks, and he loved it. He felt a bit bad that he didn’t remember everything, but his sister was always really patient with him and told him whenever he got something wrong or didn’t know why they did certain activities.

He also felt bad for worrying his sister, Brynleigh. Whenever he accidentally said or did something out of the ordinary, she would get this far away look in her eye, like she knew more than he did. She always just corrected him and said it was to be expected with his lack of memory. He still hated it. He didn’t want to be a bother! He really just wished that he had his memories.

Brynleigh said he had lost them because of trauma. Apparently, they had had an argument one night, and he had run out of the house, into the forest that surrounded where they lived. He only remembered her frantically pulling him out of some snow and leading him back to the house, nothing before that. Neither of them were sure why he had been there or what had happened to him out there, but some big traumatic event that wiped his mind of his loved ones couldn’t be the craziest idea. Could it?

Bruce shook his head. No, he wasn’t doubting his sister. He couldn’t. He trusted her. It definitely wasn’t because she was his only fountain of information in his entire new life and not believing her would thus pull the rug of his entire reality and knowledge of anything and everything out from under his feet. No, no, no! It wasn’t that. He was fine, he was just fine, yes he was.

Breathe in, breathe out. He was fine.

Bruce knew his sister wouldn’t lie to him. She hadn’t so far, to his knowledge (however limited that was). He proposed to himself that he was just going insane. Maybe that was the answer after all. He just didn’t have anything left to grip onto, and that led to him giving up on anything that made sense. Maybe he would abandon everything if he could just get a little piece of mind that he actually knew anything about what was going on!

Was he born in Alaska? How much younger than Brynleigh was he? Was he even younger than her? Did she lie to him? Does he deserve to be lied to? What about how he was found? Was anyone else there? Did he have friends? Did he have a mom? Were people worried for him? Did people hate him? Was his name even Badger?!

No, his name was Bruce.

Bruce shakily laughed, and he felt his shoulders move up and down with him, in time with the odd giggles. That was funny wasn’t it, his laugh and his shoulders. He hated them, and that was funny.

He felt like his laugh was pre-recorded and didn’t deserve to exist in the moment. His shoulders always felt like they were moving in a time, like a music tempo. It was perfect, one after the other after the other after the other. Meticulously the exact same every time, like a robot. That was how he felt about most of his body. His legs did that when he was running, his lungs did that, his heart, his bones, his mind. It was all so wrong and that was so funny, wasn’t it?!

He hated it! He hated it! He hated it!

Badge- Bruce’s head shot over to the mirror in the corner of his bedroom, and all he wanted to do was go over there and smash it with his bare hands to see the blood. That would prove that he was real, wouldn’t it? He wasn’t some dumb robot without a brain. He was a real person!