TBP preferences because I said so

102: "Of humble origins and born of the cursed sex" (vance oneshot)

Thus is gonna get lyrical!! (Totally not based off of Brutus by the buttress) (it is)
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Warnings: abuse, alcoholism, underage smoking, general violence, premature death
Side note: this isn't really an x reader, as reader isn't mentioned. This is kinda just to help you understand Vance's life in this book.
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Vance watched as his father spoke with potential business partners, laughing heartily at some sexist joke that made Vance roll his eyes, not understanding the purpose of such a joke for laughter in which was contrived and empty, only serving his father with his twisted views and disgusting thoughts. Vance had no choice but to just stand there silently. He didn't feel like getting beat at 5 p.m. in front of strangers. When it came to his father, Vance hated the air he breathed and the foolish decrees he forced upon his household. He watched as the business partners offered better and better offers than each other, practically clinging to Vance's father's chest, home to his heart full of pride.

Vance watched as this went on for about two hours, being forced to do so. While bored and sitting at a table, a girl about his age came up to him.
"Hi." She said, earning a small wave from Vance. "Is your dad here, too?" She asked, referring to the fact that this was a businessmen meeting for attempts of business offers and treaties. "Yeah, yours?" Vance replied, the girl nodding. "What do you think of your dad? I think mine sucks." The girl said, rolling her eyes. Vance thought for a moment before replying, "Same. I'd be lying if I wasn't wishing for an untimely death or demise." He said. "Oh, my god! Me too! My dad is so mean to me! He never lets me hang out with my friends, didn't buy me the shoes I wanted, and wouldn't even let me get my belly button pierced! He's so mean!" The girl said, talking with her hands a bit. Vance seemed a little bit confused about why the girl would be so mad at her dad because he cared about her. He got up and just decided to leave to the bathroom for a break from everything there, wondering if he just wanted to be like his dad, so the people would too see him as powerful, and not just the minuscule son of a successful business man.

The next day, at school.

"May the gods strike me down if I forsake you!" Called out Wyatt from the front of the class, acting out an ancient Grecian arguing with a higher up in his society with David. Vance was sat at his desk, fiddling with his pen. He glanced around, noticing how the day was almost over. An overwhelming sense of dread flooded his mind as he realized he'd have to go back to his house soon. He listened as the bell rung and most of the students got up quickly, grabbing their things and ushering out of the classroom. Before Vance could leave, the teacher stopped him and pulled him aside.

"Vance, I've noticed your grades are significantly lower than a couple weeks ago and I just wanted to see if everything was okay with you at home and here at school." She asked, her face contorting to one of concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just a little confused is all." Vance replied. She looked at him with a non-believing look on her face, but didn't push the matter any further and let him leave.

As Vance walked home, he looked around and saw a black van cruise past him, a weird looking dude driving it. Vance paid no mind to it, however, and continued walking. The dogs in fenced front yards would bark at him whenever he walked past them, but he didn't really care all that much. As he was walking, he started thinking about back when he was younger, when his mom was still around and when his dad cared. He thought about how his dad taught him how to carve wood, and how when his mom left and his dad started falling into the hollow shell of a person he is now he'd think to himself about how he'd never forget that he showed him how to make art, and he knew the love his father showed him came from a pure and noble heart before it was destroyed and corrupted through the means of coping with a lost wife. His father saw Vance a son who he viewed more as a daughter, weak and fragile and not to be tampered with or maybe he'll break and run just as his mother.

Vance continued walking, eventually making it to his house's street, knowing something wicked this way comes. Vance wonders to himself as he's set to face it. Should he just embrace it, or should he run? Is this hatred, is this love? Is this what Vance deserves for not living up and carrying the sun? For maybe his own actions are the reason for being mistreated and unloved. Was he not good enough? Was he someone to be abandoned and untrusted? To be left on the street in hopes that a savior will come? What's more wrong; that Vance too wishes to be great? Or that his father wishes he'd had a real son?

Vance thought to himself, "maybe one day my name could also be known, that I returned good to the world, and restored greatness to my family."

"Vance"
"Vance"
"Vance"
"Vance"
"Vance"
"Vance"
"Vance"
"Vance"

That was all Vance could hear as his father repeatedly slammed Vance's head onto the wall. Vance let his mind drift off, to not feel this pounding on his head. He imagined finally getting rid of his dad, living with his mother after guiding a dagger into the heart of his father, his whole childhood he was a teacher and friend to him, begging for people to understand that his actions were motivated more than by envy. He, too, has a destiny. His fathers death would be art. The people would speak of that day from near and afar. The event would be history, and Vance would be great, too. Vance always knew he could be the one, though he feels the endless pain of being and he his scorched by the sun. Of humble origins, and born of the cursed sex, his name is Vance but the people will call him the strongest kid in Colorado.

A/n: kinda rushed sorry it took so long just for it to only be 1k words ☠️