I Am…
Chapter 2: No More
"Bruce, I want to do something else." Richard said casually over breakfast.
Bruce spit out his coffee a little.
"What?" Bruce asked, dabbing his mouth.
"I want to do something else." Richard said.
"Richard. You can't. There's a system. You can't just go do whatever you want." Bruce said.
"Well, why not?" Richard asked, getting a little mad.
"The system has worked very well for years! You can't just break it!" Bruce said.
Bruce was wearing his usual work clothes; a black suit jacket, a crisp white button up shirt, a black tie, black kakis, and black dress shoes.
Bruce was a large man; muscular, tall, and…present.
Every time he walked into a room, his presence just screamed "LOOK AT ME!" It wasn't heavy or anything, it was just…there.
And Richard couldn't blame anyone.
After all, Bruce had black hair, blue eyes, and tan skin.
He just grabbed the attention of everyone, whether he liked it or not.
It was a good feature to have when one was a business man; especially a C.E.O. of a high ranking company.
But not a good feature for trying to hide something.
Yet, Bruce made it happen.
He kept his secret safe AND was somehow always in the public eye.
No idea how he does it, but he does.
"Bruce, I'm bored. I'm bored with what I'm doing! I don't want to keep getting good grades for something that I have no intention of doing!" Richard said, voice raising a bit.
"Okay; I'll amuse you. What do you want to do instead?" Bruce asked.
"W-What?" Richard didn't think that far ahead.
"I'm giving you the opportunity to do something else. What do you want to do?" Bruce asked.
"I-I…uhm…" Richard stuttered.
"Did you even think that far ahead?" Bruce asked.
Richard looked down shamefully, "No."
"This is the reason why we have this system. It tells everyone what you are. And what job you should have." Bruce said.
"Yeah? Well, I don't want to sit behind a desk! I want to do something else!" Richard yelled.
"Richard, it is what it is. Don't change it." Bruce said.
"I want to do something else." Richard said firmly.
Bruce looked at him for a moment.
"Fine. You figure out what you want to do, then we'll talk again. In the meantime though, you have school. I'll also be making an appointment with Leslie." Bruce said.
Leslie Thompkins was Bruce and Richard's therapist and doctor.
"I don't need a therapist!" Richard said.
"It's quite obvious that you do. You'll be seeing her. There is no arguing with this." Bruce said.
Richard groaned and stopped upstairs to his bedroom.
He took off his pajama top and grabbed his school shirt.
Richard stopped as he grabbed his shirt.
He looked in the mirror.
Richard had black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin.
But his eyes weren't on his face, they were on his left arm.
On his left upper arm where it would be covered by his shirt short-sleeves, there was a black barcode.
The barcode was black, like a tattoo, except you couldn't get rid of this tattoo no matter how hard you tried.
I mean, I guess you could get rid of it by cutting off your arm, but that wasn't an option.
Richard sighed.
That stupid barcode was a label.
Something that Richard hated.
He hated being told what he is.
He knew what he is, and he didn't need some stupid barcode to tell himself that he was strong or weak, or smart or stupid, or whatever!
He is Richard.
And he wasn't going to be labeled and told what to do because of a mysterious tattoo.
And he sure wasn't going to be told what his occupation for the rest of his life would be because of a stupid barcode.
Richard glared at the barcode before he put his white button-up shirt on.
He wasn't going to be labeled by it.
He was going to make his own labels.
Or he would go down kicking and screaming if he had to.