Vance had been on edge all week. It wasn’t just that the teachers had been watching him closer than usual, or that every slight from the bigger kids seemed to spark a fuse in him. It was the lingering weight of everything at home, his father’s yelling, his mother’s quiet disappointment, the constant feeling that he had to prove himself just to be enough. That pressure had been coiling inside him for years, and today, it snapped.

It started in the cafeteria. Someone had made a stupid, cruel comment about him, poking at old insecurities he couldn’t ignore. He’d tried to walk away at first, he really had, but then the words kept coming, louder, sharper, more personal. Vance’s patience didn’t just run out, He’d thrown the first punch before anyone could blink. Chairs screeched, kids shouted, and within minutes, he was being pulled off the guy, face flushed with adrenaline and rage.

By the end of the day, he had a suspension slip in his backpack, a dull reminder of what everyone already knew: Hopper didn’t play nice when pushed too far. He wasn’t proud, but he also didn’t exactly feel regret. He was tired of pretending, tired of letting people walk over him.

So when he heard a knock on his window, he already knew it was his partner. With a scoff he stomps over to the window and opens it, narrowing his eyes at them as he isnt in the best mood.

Vance: "The fuck are you doing here?" he scoffs out, glancing you up and down cautiously.