enemies to lovers(brance)

●4●

That night, Bruce lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the faint glow of his bedside clock illuminating the room. It was late-too late-but his mind wouldn't settle. He couldn't stop thinking about Vance, the way they had stared at each other in the Grab-n'-Go, the way time had seemed to stop for a moment.

Bruce had spent most of his life keeping things simple, going with the flow, not letting people get under his skin. But now? Now he couldn't shake the feeling that Vance was different. His mind replayed their encounters over and over, dissecting every look, every word. There was something about Vance that fascinated him, even though it should have frustrated him.

The fact that someone like Vance, with all his rough edges and sharp words, was on his mind so much, was confusing. Why did he care? What was it about Vance that made him linger in his thoughts? Bruce rubbed his eyes, glancing at the clock. Midnight.

He sighed, rolling over in bed, frustrated with himself for losing track of time. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get Vance out of his head. The way his piercing eyes held his gaze longer than anyone else's, the way his sneer was more of a shield than a real threat. Bruce couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath all that anger.

Across town, Vance lay in his own bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling of his room, his heart pounding in his chest. Sleep wouldn't come, no matter how hard he tried to shut his eyes. His mind was restless, stuck on one thing: Bruce.

It made him angry, not because he hated Bruce like he always told himself, but because he didn't understand why he couldn't stop thinking about him. That stare they shared earlier at Grab-n'-Go-it had messed with him in ways he wasn't ready to deal with. Vance wasn't used to letting anyone in, especially someone like Bruce.

But now, as he lay there wide awake, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Bruce's face. The way he stood there, calm and composed, even when Vance had been itching for a fight. But it wasn't just the way Bruce looked-though he'd be lying if he said he hadn't noticed how good-looking Bruce was. It was the way Bruce carried himself, like nothing Vance did could shake him. It was infuriating, but also... compelling.

Vance rolled over in bed, his mind racing. Why the hell can't I stop thinking about him? he thought, clenching his fists against the sheets. He was used to people looking at him with fear, or at least wariness. But Bruce had looked at him differently. There had been no fear, no judgment-just a calm, steady presence that seemed to see right through all the walls Vance had put up.

He let out a frustrated sigh, staring at the darkened room. The quiet of the night only made his thoughts louder, and the more he tried to push Bruce out of his head, the harder it became.

It was like Bruce was there, right in the back of his mind, refusing to leave.

As the hours dragged on, Bruce found himself tossing and turning, unable to shut off the thoughts swirling around in his head. It wasn't just curiosity anymore-it was something more. Something deeper that he didn't quite understand. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

Vance, too, was trapped in his thoughts. Wide awake and staring into the darkness, he found himself thinking about Bruce in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. But more than that, it made him feel... vulnerable. Like Bruce had already gotten under his skin without even trying.

And as the night wore on, both of them lay there, miles apart but connected by the same restless thoughts. Neither of them could sleep, and neither of them knew why.

But they both knew one thing: things between them were changing. And whether they were ready or not, they would have to face whatever was happening between them.

I LOVE THIS STORRY SM