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Bruce was sure he’d never get used to someone actually giving a fuck about him, let alone 6 other people.
Adam was the most bizarre thing to have happened in his life and every time he woke up next to the smaller man, he reeled from the concept that this beautiful human cared about him. He usually was comfortable with the idea of love by the time Adam woke up or it was time for himself to move but some days his anxiety and self loathing came crashing down and turned everything he did into a mistake.
He usually woke up before Adam, seeing as he could actually sleep before 5am, and instead of soaking up the warmth until Adam came into consciousness, he felt the irrevocable urge to get out. To run. He didn’t belong here. He wasn’t worthy of Adam’s love, or James’, or Lawrence’s. No ones. He didn’t deserve to be in this house.
Bruce was out the door and down the block before he even realized what he was doing. The sun was only just breaking on the horizon so the streets of the quiet suburb were deserted, thankfully.
He didn’t look where he was going, only changing direction when he realized he was getting too close to one of the gang’s usual hangout spots. He didn’t want to be found.
The next time he was aware of the time was close to dusk. The sun on the lower half of the sky, a chill starting to set in the air. Bruce was glad he didn’t have his phone on him, not that it would matter because no one would have called him. The other boys were probably glad he was gone without them having to trouble themselves with getting rid of him.
Unfortunately leaving without grabbing anything more than a thin jacket meant he had nothing. Moving out and away was more difficult than his subconscious accounted for.
He made his way back across town and was back at Adam’s house (not Basecamp, Basecamp meant home) by 10ish. He could see all the lights on from the end of the street. They were probably celebrating his departure and he hated himself for breaking up their joy by forcing his presence on them.
He went in through the garage side door, hoping that he had left enough of his stuff in there to grab it and get out before anyone noticed but instead he found Adam in the fetal position on his mattress. Sobbing. Horrible, gut wrenching sobs.
Bruce froze. Why was Adam crying? He should be drinking and celebrating the gift of being rid of Bruce. Torching his mattress and paintings, maybe. Not crying on the mattress hugging Bruce’s favorite hoodie to his chest.
“Kovic?” Bruce whispered, not really wanting to talk but also not knowing what else to do.
Adam shot up and after a few seconds of staring at Bruce in disbelief, he stood up and stumbled over to the taller boy and promptly punched him square in the nose.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH, YOU ASSHOLE? WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? WHY DID YOU LEAVE YOUR PHONE HERE? DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED WE WERE? HOW WORRIED I WAS?”
Bruce was dimly aware of the pain in his face but he was more focused on the pain in Adam’s eyes.
“Fuck, Bruce… I thought.. We thought someone had got you. We-we searched everywhere we thought you’d be and then ev-everywhere else. We kept thinking we’d find your body somewhere. F-fucking hell please never do that again,” Adam was crying again, hiccuping throughout the speech. Bruce was at a total loss for words.
“I… I thought… I mean Adam… I’m nothing. I don’t matter. You guys are all so beautiful and smart and talented and I’m just a fuck up. I don’t deserve any of you. I just wanted to leave you alone so you wouldn’t have to deal with kicking me out.” Bruce was avoiding Adam’s eyes, not wanting to see whatever emotion might lie there.
Adam punched him again.
“You’re such a fucking idiot, you know that? I have MINE fucking TATTOOED on my body in your handwriting because I’m your’s. I love you, Bruce Greene. I wish you could understand that because I do. I hate that you think of yourself in such a low light because you’re the light of my life. I’d never want you to leave. Never,” Adam’s voice cracked on the last word.
Bruce was back to not knowing what to say but thankfully he was saved from responding by Joel coming to see why Adam was yelling.
“Bruce? BRUCE! GUYS, BRUCE IS HOME,” he yelled over his shoulder, into the house. Bruce could year 4 pairs of feet rushing in behind Joel and within moments he was being crushed into tearful hugs.
The next couple of hours were a blur of tears and hugs and a half assed explanation of why he left. He tried his best to put all the blame on himself, on his own anxiety, but he could tell the others were hurt that he’d think they didn’t love him. He left out certain parts of his day; like the fight he picked, the drinking behind a liquor store in a dirty alley for two hours, the sitting on the edge of a bridge thinking about his survival odds if he jumped. The stuff he knew they’d fret over.
After they checked him for injuries and made him promise he wouldn’t leave again, they let him sleep in the garage even though they wanted him in a bed where they could all be. But they respected his wishes to be alone. Except Adam, who wouldn’t leave Bruce’s side.
Later that night when Bruce was laying on the mattress with Adam wrapped around him, staring at the ceiling and listening to Adam’s hiccuping breathing (seriously how could he cry so much didn’t he ever run out of tears), decided to ask Adam the question that he had come up with on that bridge.
“What would you do if I died today?”
There was a long pause and Bruce wondered if he’d fucked up again. He was about try and take it back, make Adam forget he’d even asked, when Adam finally responded.
“I’d die tomorrow.”