Title: Strawberry Fields
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: Nothing else was ever a weakness.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story.
Author's Note: This came about because Glycerine by Bush is one of my all time favorite songs, and I felt it could be used in a Vammy sense. And I just wanted to write some more, haha.







The decision wasn't an easy one to make. We'd been so careless over the years. We went about our days and nights attached at the hip, trading stupid nicknames and pouring drinks, forever calling for another round while the cameras clicked away. Careless. He fooled me into thinking we were invincible with a wink and a breathy laugh. He had so much less to lose, so few hang-ups. I wanted to be Ville Valo nearly as much as I wanted to be with him.

I was so in love with him, starstruck and captivated by this man like I'd never been before. And he loved me back. Like something out of a drunken, garbled fairy tale, we became each other's obsession. I took it to great heights, while Ville was more restrained. He let the little things speak the volumes between us, lyrics and whispers in the dark. Together, we forgot that we were scrutinized by the outside world.

We forgot.

When I realized people were talking, speculating about me, about us, I panicked. Being in love with a man would do nothing for me professionally. My reputation as a tough guy asshole had to remain untainted. My fear made me irrational, and Ville suffered for it.


I was visiting him in Finland when I reacted to the rumors. He'd invited me to see him while his lady was away, explaining it away with a blithe "So we don't annoy her, of course". His true motive was one having to do with reminding me just how much he missed me when I was an ocean away. Remind me he did, several times during that week. We drowned ourselves blissfully in alcohol and cigarettes, finding each other in the haze of it all, and it was the closest to heaven I thought I'd ever find. But as I'd lie in bed next to Ville, looking at him as he slept, I felt the knot in my chest tighten, the fear returning as I came down from the natural high of an earlier hour. I'd squeeze my eyes shut, wishing it away, before placing a kiss on my friend's forehead and falling into a fitful sleep.

The night before I left, I opened the gates to hell and tugged Ville in with me.

We were sitting up in his bed, our backs against the headboard, tangled up in bedsheets. I had one arm around his shoulders, and he was pressed against my side, his head resting against my bare collarbone. I felt safe, pleasantly exhausted and alive. But I was out of time. I had to do it, had to brave the worst while I could. Before he could bewitch me again.

"Ville, I need to say something," I said quietly, watching smoke from my cigarette curl and vanish in the semi-darkness. "I should've said it when I got here, but you... You got me again, as usual." Ville chuckled and tilted his head up to nudge my jaw.

"I'm listening," he murmured, tracing patterns on my chest with his fingers. I closed my eyes and gave him a slight squeeze, an unspoken apology for the words that were going to break his heart.

"I love you, Willa," I whispered, my heart beating faster, like a warning, a last ditch effort at stopping this disaster before it began. I ignored it. "I love you so much, but people are... they're starting to say things. Things that could make my life really difficult. True things." I felt Ville tense against me before he moved away to look at me dubiously. My skin instantly formed goosebumps where he'd been, missing his warmth.

"What sorts of things?" he asked guardedly. I tried to look him in the eye, but the swirling mist of dread, realization and bubbling fury I saw there caused me to look down at the cigarette now smouldering lifelessly in an ashtray next to my hip.

"That I'm a faggot--"

"Don't say that, Bam."

"It's what people are saying!" I exclaimed glancing up at him again. He was looking still more angry. My eyes strayed once more. "They're saying that I'm a fag, a freak. People are starting to not want to work with me, signing other people for sponsorships and skate demos and--"

"People this, people that, who the fuck even really cares?" Ville snapped. "God, where is your backbone, Margera? Some stupid rumor starts and you're the poster child for paranoia! People have said that I'm gay for ages and do I care? No, I don't, because at the end of the day, so what if I am? So fucking what?"

"I'm not you!" I shouted, my head in my hands. "I can't make that angle work for me like you can, Ville. If people know that I actually really do sneak off to Finland every now and then to fuck my best friend, it'll be a sign of weakness for them to pick apart."

"It's only a weakness if you let it be," Ville said coldly. "You let nothing else become a weakness, Bam. Not your drinking, not your pills, not your idiotic scandals, nothing. Brush it off with a joke, leave people to forget, it's what you do for a fucking living!"

"This isn't a joke!" I argued, standing up and crossing my arms over my chest to hide the way my hands were shaking. "I mean this, what you and I have! This is real, not a throwaway fling, Ville. I fucking love you."

"I see," Ville said softly, taking deep breaths as he stared up at me from his place on the bed. "Well, Bam. If you can't stand the thought of being honest about what we are, whatever it is that we are, then clearly you are not mature enough to handle this love you claim to have."

"No, Vil, that's not--"

"The fuck it isn't," Ville said, extracting himself from the covers and pulling on a black T-shirt with a hem that barely met the top of his pajama bottoms. "I'm sorry I didn't allow you to tell me this when you arrived. I'd feel a lot less awful right now if I had."

"Babe, please don't feel bad, please," I said desperately, feeling myself giving over to hysterics. I walked around the bed to where he stood and wrapped my arms around him. "I don't want you to be hurt, Ville."

"Oh, was I supposed to do a jig because you're a coward and a child?" Ville asked coldly, pushing me away. "Were you so naive as to think that this would be okay? After this week, after all the weeks like this that we've had? Goddammit, Bam. Grow up!"

He stormed from the bedroom and locked himself in the bathroom at the end of the hall. I got dressed and packed my things before trying to coax him out to at least say goodbye. He was silent except for a few hiccuping noises that yanked on my heartstrings in ways nothing else could. I whispered that I was sorry and left him be, finding my way to the door in the dark as though Ville's home was my own. As I was about to shut the door behind me, I heard footsteps in the apartment. I considered going back inside, but closed my eyes and heard the soft click instead. I checked to make sure the door had locked, then headed out to hail a taxi. I was thankful for the coldness of the night; it gave my tears an excuse.

Title: When The Storm Subsides
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam, but that comes slightly later.
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: "You're scared to death that the slightest hole in your armor is going to tear your castle down."
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story and the things and people in it that I totally made up. Title and lyrics used belong to In This Moment.
Author's Note: I edited this a bit because it sounded awkward the first time (it still sounds awkward, but oh well). I have to do that occasionally when I hit writers block. Writers block that lasts for months... Haha. MANY APOLOGIES. I love you guys.



I was lost, but now I can see
This fate is turning deep inside of me.


Morning was cold, a bitter opposite to the late night before. I hadn't slept well at all, my thoughts filled with Ville's face and the words he had so easily spoken in the calm of the night. You know that thing Jordan felt for you? Well, me too. It was exactly what it sounded like, and I wasn't sure how to handle it. The part of me that I had always allowed to take over, the angry part, told me I should be furious. It was too soon, for one thing. For another, what right did Ville have? Waltzing into my life just a week before, during the shakiest moment imaginable, and now expecting me to bend so easily with a few sly words and a well disguised "I love you"? It would be easier for me to get pissed off and maybe make both sides of Ville's jaw match.

Easier. But certainly not right.

That was where the other part of me came in. The part that had appeared only with Jordan's coaxing. This part of me remembered the soft, sincere look in Ville's eyes as he listened to me talk about the funeral, the way his hand had felt on my shoulder, and that look, the one I now knew was brought on by love. This part of me was staring at a gigantic window of opportunity and begging me to climb through it. And as much as I missed Jordan, I had the feeling he would rather I continue living rather than stay away from everything that could potentially make me happy. But of course, that was the sappy side of me talking.

I was walking to the bus stop as I was having this internal battle, my head lowered and hood pulled up both against the wind and the curious gaze of a few kids I passed. I was nearly there when a small black car pulled up beside me, the passenger side window rolled down. I bent down slightly to look inside and saw Ville, smiling in a way that might have been irritating, dressed in a deep red version of the jacket he'd given me. I noticed he was wearing a gray beanie that seemed to have knitted cat ears attached.

"Hello, Bam!" he said cheerfully. "Not wearing my clothes today?"

"Wh-- no?" I said, glancing around nervously. I caught a couple of people watching us. "What are you doing?"

"Wondering how best to ask you if you'd like a ride without sounding horribly cliched," Ville replied, leaning against the steering wheel. "Which I think I managed quite well just now, don't you?" He grinned at me, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"A ride would be nice," I said quietly, opening the door and climbing into the car. I rolled the window up and put on my seatbelt as Ville pulled back onto the road. We were quiet for a long moment, listening to the soft hum of the car, before Ville cleared his throat quietly.

"You haven't asked about last night," he said softly. I glanced at him, hoping to see in his face how he wanted me to answer him. He gave no indication, however, just looked at the road, seeming as though he hadn't spoken at all. Maybe giving me the chance to pretend he hadn't.

"I didn't think it was really the appropriate thing to talk about," I mumbled, playing with a loose string on my backpack.

"Because you always give great thought to what is and is not appropriate," Ville said, his smirk evident in his voice. I shot him a look.

"You think you know everything about me," I said, surprised when my voice wasn't injected with any kind of venom whatsoever. "You don't even know me, Ville."

"No, maybe I don't," Ville said, tucking his hair behind his ear. For the first time I noticed the small silver hoops that dangled there. "But you know, you're not that hard to figure out, Bammie."

"What makes you say that?" I asked defensively. I thought I did a good job of keeping myself in check, thank you very much.

"You're so obvious about your emotions and your personality," Ville said patiently. "I mean, you have that whole macho smokescreen up, but it really does nothing to hide your true nature. For instance, it's obvious to me that a person who always acts as if nothing could ever touch them is actually terrified that the tiniest thing will rip them apart. That's one of the first things I noticed about you, Bam. You're scared to death that the slightest hole in your armor is going to tear your castle down."

"Bullshit," I said quietly, looking away from Ville and staring out the window. "I'm not scared of anything."

"Says the boy who came to me last night, terrified that the whole world was going to beat him down because he fell in love and was honest about it," Ville said, his voice carefully expressionless. "That's another thing you fear. Love. You can barely say the word, can barely think it. And don't bother denying it, it would be a waste of breath. I know the truth as well as you do. It's written all over your face, even now." I looked at the mirror in the visor that was flipped down above me, and realized he was right. Sitting in that car was not the strong, confident loudmouth that I'd always projected myself to be. I was looking right into the blue eyes of a frightened, frustrated boy who had been lying for so long he didn't know who or what he was anymore. I didn't like what I saw. It was too real. I quickly slammed the visor back into its original position and stared at my shoes.

"You don't have a clue," I muttered. Ville let out a breathy laugh.

"Trust me, Bam, I have a better clue than you could ever imagine."


The rest of the ride was spent in complete silence. When we arrived in the school parking lot, I got out of the car before it had even stopped moving, walking away without looking back. What does he know anyway?



Despite the disastrous car ride, I was unable to deny the fact that Ville had been right. The school day was hardly unbearable. In fact, it was almost okay. People were either sympathetic, supportive, or completely indifferent. My friends were all rallied behind me, and only one person called me a faggot. That person was quickly shoved inside a locker when no authority figures were looking. Yes, Ville had been right, but that didn't stop my being furious with him.

My anger only intensified when I discovered we had the same lunch period.

"Still being pissy?" Ville said in my ear, reaching past me to grab a tray. I spun around and somehow resisted the urge to hit him.

"You really don't quit, do you?" I hissed, subconsciously moving along in line as the people in front of me made space. Ville laughed quietly.

"Well, see, the thing is," he began, running a hand through his hair, now free of cat ears, "you're playing a fantastic game with me. One day I'm your worst enemy, the next, you adore me. Now you kind of want to kill me, is that correct?"

"You have no idea," I grumbled, grabbing a bag of chips. "Why are you even here? Why don't you go back to Finland or wherever it is you came from?"

"Well, for starters," Ville began, fire alighting in his eyes. He was angry. "It's my fault that my family is now broke due to making the trip here to the states, so returning to Finland isn't really in the cards. And my reason for leaving had a tendency to kick me around a bit, so if I did go back, I probably wouldn't spend two hours there before I found myself in the hospital or worse. Does that answer your question?"

"You don't mean--"

"The words 'I love you' mean less to some, Bam," Ville cut in. "Yes, that's what I mean. Satisfied?" Before I could reply, Ville was gone, striding quickly across the cafeteria and out the door, waving away shouts from teachers telling him he wasn't allowed to leave. I suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore.


I wandered to the parking lot the moment school let out, hoping that Ville would be there. He wasn't. His car was still there, but he was nowhere to be seen. I didn't think waiting for him would be a smart idea, so I walked towards the buses with a sinking feeling in my chest. I'd definitely said the wrong thing earlier. Even though there was no way I could have known he'd come here because he needed to escape some slap-happy douchebag, I still felt like a jerk. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was, but I figured words wouldn't be enough. At the same time, I couldn't help but feel like Ville had deserved it. He'd dug too deep that morning with me, it was only fair that I return the favor... No, I thought. That was different. That meant very little compared to my insensitive slip up. Ville was playing games, but whether or not it was intentional, I'd done far more than that.



"What's wrong, Bam? Ape asked, watching as I pushed my dinner around on my plate. She'd made chicken alfredo, my favorite, but I wasn't in the mood to eat. I'd been past Ville's a couple of times since I'd gotten home, but he never came out. His car was parked in the driveway though, so at least I knew he was okay.

"I'm just not really hungry," I told her, taking a sip of my water instead.

"Now he's anorexic too," Jess said, clearly enjoying my teenage turmoil. I threw a fork at him, but nobody really yelled since it was a really weak, half-hearted kind of toss.

"Jess, that's enough," Phil said, giving him a look. "Why don't you go lie down, Bam?"

"Yeah, I guess I will," I sighed, standing up and leaving the dining room. I made my way into the living room where I sat down on the couch and stared at my hands for a long moment, my thoughts waving in and out of coherence. The bruise on my right hand had faded considerably, now a slightly reddish purple color with yellow tinged edges. Ville's face had healed much quicker, I realized, seeming to recall that I hadn't even noticed a mark on him today. I groaned and changed positions so I was sprawled out on the couch, closing my eyes, falling asleep before I could even count to ten.


I don't know how long I'd been asleep for when I was jarred awake by the sound of the doorbell. I heard Ape hurry down the hallway to answer it and let my eyes slip shut again, throwing an arm over my face. My attempt at going back to sleep didn't last long, though, because the voice filtering in from the now open door was a familiar one.

"Hello, Mrs. Margera," Ville was saying, "You don't really know me. My name is Ville, and I'm a friend of your son, Bam. I was wondering if maybe I could talk to him? I'll just be a minute."

"Well, he didn't seem to be feeling well earlier, and he went to take a nap," Ape told him. "I'd rather he didn't have friends in right now."

"Oh, that's okay," Ville said politely. "Would you mind giving him this, though?"

"I wouldn't mind at all," Ape said kindly. "I'll let him know you were here."

"Thank you," Ville said, his voice fainter now that he was stepping away. "Have a good night, Mrs. Margera."

"You too," Ape replied, shutting the door as Ville departed. She came into the living room and tapped my arm. I looked at her wearily.

"Thanks for not letting him in," I whispered, rubbing my eyes. "I can't deal with him right now."

"Is he the reason you're acting funny tonight?" Ape asked, stroking my hair soothingly.

"Yeah," I muttered, looking at the ceiling. "We had a fight. Sort of."

"Well, he asked me to give you this," Ape said, handing me a note. "He looked kind of upset. Maybe he's sorry."

"Yeah," I said, looking at the folded up piece of paper. It was folded in one of those cutesy ways, like middle school girls do. My name was written neatly across the front. "Maybe."

Title: When The Storm Subsides
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam, but that comes slightly later.
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: "You're scared to death that the slightest hole in your armor is going to tear your castle down."
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story and the things and people in it that I totally made up. Title and lyrics used belong to In This Moment.
Author's Note: I guarantee there are mistakes strewn about in this because I'm running on a single cup of coffee after a borderline all nighter. I shall fix these mistakes, should they exist, when I am actually alive.




I was lost, but now I can see
This fate is turning deep inside of me.


Morning was cold, a bitter opposite to the late night before. I hadn't slept well at all, my thoughts filled with Ville's face and the words he had so easily spoken in the calm of the night. You know that thing Jordan felt for you? Well, me too. It was an honest to God admission of love, and I wasn't sure how to handle it. The part of me that I had always allowed to take over, the angry part, told me I should be furious. It was too soon, for one thing. For another, what right did Ville have? Waltzing into my life just a week before, during the shakiest moment imaginable, and now expecting me to bend so easily with a few sly words and a well disguised "I love you"? It would be easier for me to get pissed off and maybe make both sides of Ville's jaw match.

Easier. But certainly not right.

That was where the other part of me came in. The part that had appeared only with Jordan's coaxing. This part of me remembered the soft, sincere look in Ville's eyes as he listened to me talk about the funeral, the way his hand had felt on my shoulder, and that look, the one I now knew was brought on by love. This part of me was staring at a gigantic window of opportunity and begging me to climb through it. And as much as I missed Jordan, I had the feeling he would rather I continue living rather than stay away from everything that could potentially make me happy. But of course, that was the sappy side of me talking.

I was walking to the bus stop as I was having this internal battle, my head lowered and hood pulled up both against the wind and the curious gaze of a few kids I passed. I was nearly there when a small black car pulled up beside me, the passenger side window rolled down. I bent down slightly to look inside and saw Ville, smiling sweet as ever, dressed in a deep red version of the jacket he'd given me. I noticed he was wearing a grey beanie as well that seemed to have cat ears attached.

"Hello, Bam!" he said cheerfully. "Not wearing my clothes today?"

"Wh-- no?" I said, glancing around nervously. I caught a couple of people watching us. "What are you doing?"

"Wondering how best to ask you if you'd like a ride without sounding horribly cliched," Ville replied, leaning against the steering wheel. "Which I think I managed quite well just now, don't you?" He grinned at me, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"A ride would be nice," I said quietly, opening the door and climbing into the car. I rolled the window up and put on my seatbelt as Ville pulled back onto the road. We were quiet for a long moment, listening to the soft hum of the car, before Ville cleared his throat quietly.

"You haven't asked about last night," he said softly. I glanced at him, hoping to see in his face how he wanted me to answer him. He gave no indication, however, just looked at the road, seeming as though he hadn't spoken at all. Maybe giving me the chance to pretend he hadn't.

"I didn't think it was really the appropriate thing to talk about," I mumbled, playing with a loose string on my backpack.

"Because you always give great thought to what is and is not appropriate," Ville said, his smirk evident in his voice. I shot him a look.

"You think you know everything about me," I said, surprised when my voice wasn't injected with any kind of venom whatsoever. "You don't even know me, Ville."

"No, maybe I don't," Ville said, tucking his hair behind his ear. For the first time I noticed the small silver hoops that dangled there. "But you know, you're not that hard to figure out, Bammie."

"What makes you say that?" I asked defensively. I thought I did a good job of keeping myself in check, thank you very much.

"You're so obvious about your emotions and your personality," Ville said patiently. "I mean, you have that whole macho smokescreen up, but it really does nothing to hide your true nature. For instance, it's obvious to me that a person who always acts as if nothing could ever touch them is actually terrified that the tiniest thing will rip them apart. That's one of the first things I noticed about you, Bam. You're scared to death that the slightest hole in your armor is going to tear your castle down."

"Bullshit," I said quietly, looking away from Ville and staring out the window. "I'm not scared of anything."

"Says the boy who came to me last night, terrified that the whole world was going to beat him down because he fell in love and was honest about it," Ville said, his voice carefully expressionless. "That's another thing you fear. Love. You can barely say the word, can barely think it. And don't bother denying it, it would be a waste of breath. I know the truth as well as you do. It's written all over your face, even now." I looked at the mirror in the visor that was flipped down above me, and realized he was right. Sitting in that car was not the strong, confident loudmouth that I'd always projected myself to be. I was looking right into the blue eyes of a frightened, frustrated boy who had been lying for so long he didn't know who or what he was anymore. I didn't like what I saw. It was too real. I quickly slammed the visor back into its original position and stared at my shoes.

"You don't have a clue," I muttered. Ville let out a breathy laugh.

"Trust me, Bam, I have a better clue than you could ever imagine."


The rest of the ride was spent in complete silence. When we arrived in the school parking lot, I got out of the car before it had even stopped moving, walking away without looking back. What does he know anyway?



Despite the disastrous car ride, I was unable to deny the fact that Ville had been right. The school day was hardly unbearable. In fact, it was almost okay. People were either sympathetic, supportive, or completely indifferent. My friends were all rallied behind me, and only one person called me a faggot. That person was quickly shoved inside a locker when no authority figures were looking. Yes, Ville had been right, but that didn't stop my being furious with him.

My anger only intensified when I discovered we had the same lunch period.

"Still being pissy?" Ville said in my ear, reaching past me to grab a tray. I spun around and somehow resisted the urge to hit him.

"You really don't quit, do you?" I hissed, subconsciously moving along in line as the people in front of me made space. Ville laughed quietly.

"Well, see, the thing is," he began, running a hand through his hair, now cat ear hat-free, "you're playing a fantastic game with me. One day I'm your worst enemy, the next, you adore me. Now you kind of want to kill me, is that correct?"

"You have no idea," I grumbled, grabbing a bag of chips. "Why are you even here? Why don't you go back to Finland or wherever it is you came from?"

"Oh sure," Ville said, his voice suddenly lower than I'd ever heard it. "Right back into the arms of my abusive boyfriend. Yes, I suppose that's exactly what I should do." I turned to look at him, but he'd already thrown his tray into the hands of some unsuspecting freshman. I watched as he stormed away from the lunch line and out the door of the cafeteria, raising a hand to the shouts from more than one teacher that told him he didn't have permission to leave. I blinked, suddenly no longer hungry at all.



I wandered to the parking lot the moment school let out, hoping that Ville would be there. He wasn't. His car was still there, but he was nowhere to be seen. I didn't think waiting for him would be a smart idea, so I walked towards the buses with a sinking feeling in my chest. I'd definitely said the wrong thing earlier. Even though there was no way I could have known he'd come here because he needed to escape some slap-happy douchebag, I still felt like a jerk. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was, but I figured words wouldn't be enough. At the same time, I couldn't help but feel like Ville had deserved it. He'd dug too deep that morning with me, it was only fair that I return the favor... No, I thought. That was different.

It was.



"What's wrong, Bam? Ape asked, watching as I pushed my dinner around on my plate. She'd made chicken alfredo, my favorite, but I wasn't in the mood to eat. I'd been past Ville's a couple of times since I'd gotten home, but he never came out. His car was parked in the driveway though, so at least I knew he was okay.

"I'm just not really hungry," I told her, taking a sip of my water instead.

"Now he's anorexic too," Jess said, clearly enjoying my teenage turmoil. I threw a fork at him, but nobody really yelled since it was a really weak, half-hearted kind of toss.

"Jess, that's enough," Phil said, giving him a look. "Why don't you go lie down, Bam?"

"Yeah, I guess I will," I sighed, standing up and leaving the dining room. I made my way into the living room where I sat down on the couch and stared at my hands for a long moment, my thoughts waving in and out of coherence. The bruise on my right hand had faded considerably, now a slightly reddish purple color with yellow tinged edges. Ville's face had healed much quicker, I realized, seeming to recall that I hadn't even noticed a mark on him today. I groaned and changed positions so I was sprawled out on the couch, closing my eyes and wishing, praying even, that I could start the day over.



I don't know how long I'd been asleep for when I was jarred awake by the sound of the doorbell. I heard Ape hurry down the hallway to answer it and let my eyes slip shut again, throwing an arm over my face. My attempt at going back to sleep didn't last long, though, because the voice filtering in from the now open door was a familiar one.

"Hello, Mrs. Margera," Ville was saying, "You don't really know me, but I'm a friend of your son, Bam. I was wondering if maybe I could talk to him? I'll just be a minute."

"Well, he didn't seem to be feeling well earlier, and he went to take a nap," Ape told him. "I'd rather he didn't have friends in right now."

"Oh, that's okay," Ville said politely. "Would you mind giving him this, though?"

"I wouldn't mind at all," Ape said kindly. "I'll let him know you were here."

"Thank you," Ville said, his voice fainter now that he was stepping away. "Have a good night, Mrs. Margera."

"You too," Ape replied, shutting the door as Ville departed. She came into the living room and tapped my arm. I looked at her wearily.

"Thanks for not letting him in," I whispered, rubbing my eyes. "I can't deal with him right now."

"Is he the reason you're acting funny tonight?" Ape asked, stroking my hair soothingly.

"Yeah," I muttered, looking at the ceiling. "We had a fight. Sort of."

"Well, he asked me to give you this," Ape said, handing me a note. "He looked kind of upset. Maybe he's sorry."

"Yeah," I said, looking at the folded up piece of paper. It was folded in one of those cutesy ways, like middle school girls do. My name was written neatly across the front. "Maybe."

Title: When The Storm Subsides
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam, but that comes slightly later.
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: "At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I'm doomed."
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story and the things and people in it that I totally made up. Title and lyrics used belong to In This Moment.
Author's Note: This is quite short. I meant to make it longer, but it seemed awkward to add anything to this chapter.





All these years beneath the skin
Everything inside me turning to the shame.



Going back to school on Monday was the last thing I wanted to do. After the funeral, I'd done everything in my power to avoid anyone I knew. I was afraid that I was going to walk through those glass double doors and be met with taunting laughter. Everyone knew my big secret, that I'd been in love with another guy. Dunn kept telling me that everyone had had their suspicions anyway. If that was supposed to make me feel better, it wasn't working.

It was about eleven o' clock on Sunday night when I decided to sneak out and go for a walk. Where I was going, I had no idea. I left the house without a sound, skipping every creaky step and floorboard, then turned left instead of right like I usually did. Had you asked me at the time, I'd have sworn up and down I wasn't going this direction because Ville lived that way. The truth was, that did have rather a lot to do with it. I felt that maybe being near him would make everything okay. I was starting to scare myself, thinking like that.

Of course, nearing his house, I hadn't expected Ville to be outside. He was though, sitting on his front porch, strumming an acoustic guitar by the glowing light of a dozen candles. I stopped dead in my tracks and just stared. He didn't look up, didn't even realize he was being watched. There was a thick notebook in front of him, a pen lying on top of it. He looked slightly frustrated and in deep concentration as he tried a different chord and wrote it down, scratching out the one before it. He put the pen back down and tried the chord one more time before playing what I could only assume was the song he was writing. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever heard. I could hear him humming along softly; clearly he hadn't written lyrics yet. When he finished playing, he finally looked up.

"Bam!" he called, raising a hand and waving. "Come on up here you creep!" I laughed and started up the walkway, a chilly breeze ruffling my hair. Even though it was uncharacteristically warm outside, winter still wanted it to be clear that it was on its way.

"It's okay for me to be a creep, Ville," I said, sitting down on the step just below the edge of the porch. "You were a creep too, when I first met you."

"True as that may be, I didn't lurk on your front lawn while you were writing love songs," Ville said, snapping his notebook shut as I tried to sneak a peek at it.

"Love songs?" I asked, wrinkling my nose. "Gag."

"Oh, but you seemed to enjoy my rendition of a popular love song a few evenings ago," Ville said blithely. I felt my face heat up and was suddenly very thankful I'd chosen to take a walk at night.

"That was just funny," I told him, recovering quickly. He chuckled softly.

"Yes, I suppose it was," he said quietly, stretching his legs out so that his feet were on the step next to me. After a long pause, he said, "How was the funeral?"

"You haven't heard?" I asked darkly, determined not to look at him.

"I haven't been out much lately," he replied. "I'm a little under the weather. Stomachache. Now, answer my question."

"It was both the best and worst experience of my life," I said shortly.

"Best because...?" he persisted. I barked out a laugh.

"Don't give up, do you?" I asked, looking at him bemusedly. He smiled slightly and shook his head. I sighed and looked out across the lawn again. "Best because it was closure, you know? I saw that it's really happened, that Jordan's gone. I can start healing now, as Ape puts it."

"Ape?"

"My mom," I explained, grinning at Ville's look of bewilderment.

"Oh," Ville said, blinking at me. "Right. Okay, so, worst because...?"

"Worst because I sort of told everyone that Jordan and I were in..." I grimaced slightly.

"Love?" Ville finished gently. I nodded. I felt him put a hand on my shoulder and squeeze comfortingly.

"His mom asked me to speak, and at the last minute... well, I felt that Jordan would want people to know," I sighed. "It just came out. My friends and family are proud of me, but I think they're the only ones. School's going to suck now."

"Aww, Bammie," Ville said, scooting down to sit on the step next to me. "It's not going to suck. Give humanity just a little credit, hmm? Especially in these circumstances. Do you really think that many people are going to scorn a guy who just lost the person he was in love with?"

"I don't know where you're from, but people's brains must work differently there than they do here," I said bitterly. "At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I'm doomed."

"You are not," Ville said scoldingly, lightly slapping my knee. "Believe me, Bam, people both here in America and in Finland have some respect for those who are grieving. Sure, you'll get the occasional asshole, but you can handle them. I should know, you handled me quite well."

"That sounded weird," I snickered. Ville gave me a dirty look and an exasperated sigh.

"How old are you, Bam?" he asked teasingly.

"Old enough to see the innuendo you just used," I said with a grin.

"I didn't use anything, Bammie," Ville said with a yawn. "You're just a pervert, it would seem. A pervert who looks rather good in my clothes." I glanced down at the jacket, then narrowed my eyes at him.

"You just did it again!" I laughed.

"Oh doodley, it seems I did," Ville said, pretending to look concerned. "Perhaps I should get that checked." He caught my eye and giggled, a sound that was completely infectious. We both dissolved into laughter that was far too loud for the hour. We had just calmed down when a woman I guessed was Ville's mother opened the screen door and told Ville it was time to come inside. She smiled graciously at me before retreating inside the house again.

"She didn't ask who I was," I said, helping Ville blow out the candles on the porch.

"She doesn't have to," Ville said, placing his guitar back in its battered, sticker-covered case with the notebook. He picked it up and stood, smiling at me as I lined the candles up neatly on a table. "I've told her all about you, Bammie."

"Why?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Ville laughed quietly and opened the door, turning to look at me with that damn expression again, the one I couldn't name.

"Let me tell you a secret, Brandon Margera," he whispered. "You know that thing that Jordan felt for you? Well, me too." It was my turn to blink stupidly.

"Wha--"

"Shh, not tonight," Ville said, starting to go inside. Then he stopped and turned around once more. "I do mean it, though. You look great in that jacket. Feel free to hold onto it, if you like." Before I could even reply to that, much less ask the thousand questions he'd sent whirling around in my head, he stepped fully inside and shut the door.

Title: When The Storm Subsides
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam, but that comes slightly later.
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: "Why aren't you being honest?"
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story and the things and people in it that I totally made up. Title and lyrics used belong to In This Moment. (In this chapter, some lyrics also belong to the Backstreet Boys. ...shut up.)





I've been driving through these nights
This road reminding me of all I am
As time drags on, these windows fade
And reality starts slipping from my mind
All I know is this all fades, the second that I'm by your side.




Friday morning arrived far too quickly. Despite the fact that my parents had kept me home from school all week, it was as if I'd blinked and suddenly it was nearly time for Jordan's funeral. Despite the deep seated numbness I felt, I refused to put on a suit and, instead, put on the dressiest non-dressy outfit I owned. The one that Jordan liked. It was just dark jeans and a long-sleeved red button-up shirt, but Jordan had totally adored it. "You look almost like a gentleman," he'd teased. That was the night we'd spent at the first school dance, tripping people and successfully spiking the punch. It was a good time, one I wouldn't soon forget.

"Are you nearly ready, Bam?" Ape asked, poking her head inside my bedroom. I looked at her reflection in the mirror next to my own and nodded, not trusting my voice. I knew if I tried to speak, I'd embarrass myself. Jordan's mom had asked me to speak at the funeral, and I'd agreed to do it. I felt that maybe if I saved my words for that moment, I wouldn't break down entirely in front of everyone. As Ape walked away, I slipped a hand into my pocket and pulled out the sheet of paper I'd written my speech on. I'd worked on it for two days, keeping it short and sweet and making sure it perfectly expressed my feelings (there's that obnoxious word again) without making everyone aware of what had gone on with Jordan and me. I felt I'd done a good job, that Jordan would be proud of me. That was all that mattered, wasn't it?

I left my bedroom and went downstairs, not acknowledging the sympathetic looks from my family. I slipped out the front door and waved to Novak, who was starting up the driveway to meet me.

"Hey," he said cautiously, his hands shoved inside the pockets of his dress pants. Any other day it would have been hilarious to see Novak in a suit and tie (which was green with polka dots, by the way), but I couldn't even crack a smile.

"Hey," I muttered, playing with the hem of my shirt. "How've you been?"

"Good," Novak said awkwardly. "Normal, I guess. How... how 'bout you? Any better?"

"A little," I lied, pulling out my speech again. "Jordan's mom wants me to speak at the funeral."

"Yeah?" Novak said, tilting his head to the side. "Are you going to?"

"Duh," I said, handing the paper to him. "I've been working on that for days now. I think it's good, don't you?" I watched nervously as Novak read the words I'd written neatly across the page, the final copy of my goodbye. His brow furrowed and he looked up at me.

"Why aren't you being honest?" he demanded. The question rang in the air for a moment, and I was unsure of what to say.

"About what?" I asked, taking the paper back. It was probably the most honest thing I'd ever written, in my opinion.

"You say he was your best friend," Novak said. "You know he was more than that, man."

"Wh-- this is his fucking funeral, Novak!" I whispered, folding the paper up and putting it back in my pocket. "I don't think he'd want to be outed at his funeral! And truthfully, neither do I!"

"Whatever," Novak shrugged. "I just think... this is Jordan, you know? He was a really open, honest dude. He didn't give a damn, he was who he was. He'd want you to carry on that attitude. I know he would."

"I think you're wrong," I said defiantly.

"Fine!" Novak said, backing away with his hands raised in a gesture of forfeit. "Just think about it, okay?" He walked away, presumably to catch a ride with one of our friends to the funeral home. I sat down on the steps, my brain doing that annoying whirling thing it had picked up after Jordan died. Would Jordan really want me to talk about "us" the way we were? We had always said, even to each other, that we were just friends. We knew it wasn't true, though. Sometimes I thought everyone knew.

"Let's go, Bam," Phil said, making me jump. I hadn't even noticed he, Ape, and Jess had come outside. I stood up and followed them to the car, staring at the pavement. I was about to open the door when I heard someone calling my name. I turned around to see Ville a few houses away, motioning for me to come over to him. I groaned inwardly and told Phil I'd just be a minute before jogging over to Ville's side.

"What could you possibly want today?" I asked through gritted teeth. This was definitely a waste of those words I had desperately been trying to save.

"Oh... is the funeral today?" Ville asked quietly as realization dawned.

"Yeah," I sighed, not having the heart to be sarcastic. He really hadn't known.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. Then he looked me up and down, his eyebrows knitted together. "You look sort of under-dressed, you know what I mean?"

"Jordan liked this outfit," I said defensively. Ville shrugged off his jacket, the same gothy one he'd been wearing the last time I'd seen him, and handed it to me.

"I like it too, but it would look better with this," he said, nodding appreciatively when I grudgingly pulled the jacket on. It smelled slightly like cigarettes and cinnamon. "Much better."

"Thanks," I muttered, glancing back at the car. Ape was watching from the passenger window like a hawk. "Look, I have to go. See you around."

"Right," Ville said softly. "Um... hang in there, okay?" I studied his face for a moment, surprised to see not sympathy, but something else. Something less obligatory, more... kind. It made a pleasant warmth momentarily fill the cold void that had settled in my chest. It terrified me. I turned quickly and ran back to the car, sliding in the back next to my brother. My heart was pounding in my chest and my hands were shaking. I just wished I could explain why.



I watched people from my school milling about, some crying, some merely looking sad. Others still were smiling and laughing, gossiping as if this were some kind of social event. I wanted to go yell at them, tell them that if they had no intention of paying their respects to Jordan, they could get the hell out. Ape put an arm around my shoulder, sensing my irritation, and steered me into another room.

"Don't mind them, Bam," she whispered. "They'll be gone soon out of boredom." I nodded, watching glumly as she moved on to talk to someone she recognized. I spotted Jess talking to a friend of his who had been close to Jordan's family. Phil was talking to Jordan's dad, who raised a solemn hand when he saw me. I nodded in return and walked into the next room, which had been filled with pictures of Jordan and his friends and family, arranged attractively next to the flower arrangements loved ones had sent to the funeral home. I had ordered one in secret days ago, the bouquet consisting of white roses and bleeding hearts, Jordan's favorite flowers. He actually planted some in the garden for Ape, since she was so useless at taking care of plants. The card with the bouquet simply read, "I love you. From: me." on pretty white and silver paper. It stood out among the rest of the arrangements, and I had to look away.

I moved to the other end of the room to look at a piece of posterboard covered with pictures. There were a few polaroids of Jordan and his mother when he was little, along with a few school pictures. further to the left was a photobooth strip, one I recognized with a pang of grief. It was the one I'd taken with Jordan after we'd been wreaking havoc at the local mall, just two weeks before he died. We were making goofy faces in most of them, except for the last one, where we'd disolved into giggles and were simply smiling so hard our eyes were nearly shut. I reached out and touched Jordan's face in that photo, wondering how it was possible that we'd been so happy when this horrible moment was looming just ahead...

"Bam?" someone said gently, and I turned to see Jordan's mom, Tracy, standing next to me. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked extremely tired. Even her hair, white blonde like her son's, seemed to shine less. "How are you, sweetie?"

"Um, okay," I replied, looking everywhere but her face. "You?"

"I've been better," she said with a choked laugh. "Have you... seen him yet?" I closed my eyes instinctively, as though she'd tried to slap me.

"N-no," I stuttered. "I haven't."

"There's nothing to be afraid of," she said shakily, putting a hand on my shoulder. "He looks... he looks fine. Like he's sleeping."

"I don't know if I can," I said, clenching and unclenching my fists. I couldn't lose it now.

"Well, when you're ready, he's right in there," Tracy pointed to the next room to the left. I could see the corner of the casket and more flowers through the sea of people all gathered inside.

"Okay," I said, fiddling with the cuff of Ville's jacket. I knew I'd have to go in eventually, but I wanted to wait until it would be just me. Just me and Jordan.

"Do you have your speech ready?" Tracy asked. I blinked, having almost forgotten that I would be speaking in a few minutes.

"Y-yeah," I said, pulling the paper out of my pocket yet again. "When will I be...?"

"You'll speak right after Father Gary," she said, her voice noticeably firmer. She was always more comfortable when explaining scheduling. She worked as a counselor at a Catholic high school, and she was the one in charge of settling matters of classes for the upcoming year for each student.

"Great," I said awkwardly. She gave me a sad smile before enveloping me in a tight hug.

"Jordan would be so pleased that you're doing this," she whispered, patting my back. "He really adored you, Bam." She pulled back and, sensing that I'd rather be saved the trouble of finding a response to that, walked away to talk to a couple of sniffling girls who were looking over the framed photos in the opposite corner of the room. I walked into the room where the sermon was about to begin, taking a seat next to Phil. He put his arm around me, but I shrugged it off. The more people tried to comfort me, the more unstable I felt. The priest walked up to the podium and spoke in a deep, soothing voice.

"We'll be starting in three minutes, so if everyone would please make their way in here and take a seat... thank you." He stepped back and gathered his Bible and some notecards, standing patiently as people filed in and took the remaining seats. Novak and Ryan Dunn came over and sat with me, while Dico gave me a wave and sat down with his parents two rows in front of mine. When everyone was seated, Father Gary stood back at the microphone and began.

"Brothers and sisters, it is with great sorrow that we are gathered here today, to mourn the passing of a young man lost far too soon..." It was somewhere around here that my brain tuned out the man's words. I didn't want to hear, didn't want to dwell on this until I had to.

The unfortunate disadvantage to tuning out a sermon is the fact that it seems to speed up. It seemed like Father Gary had just begun talking when everyone was saying "Amen" and the priest was explaining that I wanted to say a few words. My heart immediately leapt into my throat, and I stood shakily as my friends whispered variations of, "It's okay Bam." I walked up to the podium and swallowed thickly, my mind foggy. I flattened the piece of paper my speech was on against the shiny dark wood in front of me, took a deep breath, and started talking.

"I'm probably the last person anyone expected to see speaking at a funeral, right?" Several people chuckled softly, and I managed a smile.

"Jordan would have believed it. He was always telling me that I had a serious, emotional side of me. He said that just because I didn't show it, that didn't mean it wasn't there. Jordan could always see the things people hid. He was a tough person to fool. He was also the kind of person who could make you feel so good, like nothing in life could go wrong. Sometimes all it took was a smile from him in your general direction. Jordan was a genuine, caring person who loved his family and friends more than he loved anything. He loved deeply and was fiercely protective. He made you feel safe and adored, whether you were the richest kid at school or the girl who shopped at Goodwill. He made me feel like I could be real, like I could tell him anything." This was where I stopped. I looked up and met Novak's eyes, which were focused right on mine. He gave a slight nod and I took another deep gulp of air.

"I loved Jordan. He was more than my best friend." I was no longer following my written words. "We never labeled what we had, you know? We just knew that we were different, that we loved each other more deeply than most friends do. It hurts to say goodbye now, when we were just starting to figure things out." Tears were stinging my eyes now, and I just wanted to finish.

"Jordan," I said softly, looking up at the ceiling. "Wherever you are, man. I love you. I really do. More than I ever got to tell you." I stepped back quickly and walked out of the room, raising a hand as I left to acknowledge the earnest applause I was receiving. I walked almost blindly to the room where Jordan's body lay in the casket, and stopped in the doorway my heartbeat pounding in my ears. This was it.

I wiped away the tears that were sliding down my cheeks in a seemingly unstoppable flow and moved forward hesitantly, my eyes settled on Jordan's calm face. When I was next to the coffin, I could see that makeup had been applied to make him appear to have more color. I thought that was stupid, since he'd always been pale as death, even in life. I reached out a trembling hand and stroked his soft hair, the same way I had done a hundred times before. My fingers trailed to his cheek, but I quickly drew away. He was cold. Too cold.

"I miss you, J," I whispered, petting his hair again. "You haven't even been gone a week and I miss you so much..." If I had had more words to say, they would have been lost. My shoulders shook as I leaned against the casket, trying and failing to hold myself together. I felt a hand on my shoulder and spun quickly around to see Novak. He was smiling sadly.

"You did good, Bam," he said gently, pulling me into his arms. "You did good."



The ride home was unbearably awkward. Ape was trying to grill me for information ("I had no IDEA you loved him that way! Why didn't you say something? No wonder you've been so torn up about this!), Phil was trying to get her to pipe down, and Jess was just staring at me. Finally, fifteen minutes into the staring I snapped, "WHAT?!"

"You're gay!" Jess exclaimed. "All these years we've joked about it and you actually are gay!"

"Jess!" Ape shouted, turning around and looking at him sharply. "This is hardly the time for--"

"It's the perfect time! Bam just came out at a fucking FUNERAL!" Jess laughed. Ape sighed and turned around, covering her face with her hand.

"Look, I'm not gay, okay?" I said tartly, crossing my arms over my chest. "I loved Jordan, yeah. But he's the only one!" Jess wasn't convinced.

Neither was I.



That night, I climbed up on the roof and looked up at the clear night sky. I could see every star, and the moon shone bright straight overhead. It was fairly cold outside, but I hardly noticed. I was still wearing Ville's jacket, which was surprisingly warm. As I watched the skies, I heard singing down on the street. Remarkably good singing. I sat up and looked down past the streetlights and saw Ville. He was in the middle of the road, twirling around like a moron, singing "The One" by the fucking Backstreet Boys. He looked up at me, and even from far away, I could see him grinning. He waved at me and finished the song, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I'll be the one, to hold you, and make sure that you'll be all right... I'll be the one."


Maybe Jordan WASN'T the only one.

Nancy Drew, obviously. I can only hope to be HALF as smart and brave as she's portrayed in the books and computer games. The movies were generally awful though. (*cough cough* Emma Roberts, you fail. *cough cough*)

Title: When The Storm Subsides
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam, but that comes slightly later.
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: Somehow, he looked really... beautiful? Was that the word?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story and the things and people in it that I totally made up. Title and lyrics used belong to In This Moment.
Author's Note: After a long period of fighting with myself, I finally rewrote this chapter and I feel that I might be able to keep going now, haha.






Can this be real?
Can this be fate?




Lying in bed that night, I did very little sleeping. I could try to blame it on the howling wind outside, the unforgiving drumbeat the rain made on the roof, the ticking of the clock next to me, but they were not what was keeping me awake. Every time I closed my eyes, Jordan's face swam into my vision, his laugh filled my ears, and somehow, I could smell the cheap bodyspray he wore, Axe or Tag or some shit like that. I couldn't take it, having my mind flooded with memories. You'd think that it would make me feel better, to see Jordan, but it didn't. I knew he was in my head, not really with me. That was the trouble with being a realist. I never did waste my time on big dreams or fantasy. Things were what they were, no more, no less. Jordan was dead. His soul, the dancing light in his eyes, was gone forever. I never imagined I could feel so alone.



When I woke up, it was already noon. Ape apparently had decided to allow me to stay home from school. Any other day, I would have been thrilled. School wasn't exactly on top of the official "Bam's Favorite Hobbies" list, after all. But on this particular day, school sounded good. I needed to distract myself somehow. I'd rather think about William Shakespeare than my dead friend.

I made the decision to drag myself out of bed when someone started pounding on the front door. I made a promise to myself that if it was my batshit old lady neighbor Mrs. Rousa asking for a container of sugar again, I would promptly go jump off a bridge. I mean, it's not like we were living in Mayberry. Despite the temptation to just ignore the person at the door, I made my way down the stairs, halfheartedly muttering "I'm coming, hang on a second". When I finally reached the door and yanked it open, I had the urge to slam it shut again. It was that damn kid again, Ville. He was standing there with this stupid, awkward look on his face, one hand raised in a timid wave, and I kind of wanted to smack him.

"Hey," he said quietly. "I figured you'd be here."

"Yeah, it is my house," I drawled, leaning against the doorway. "Shouldn't you be at school? You look like the type who would enjoy it."

"I'm not registered yet," Ville replied, crossing his long arms over his chest and sitting in his hip like all the girls with bad attitudes I knew did. "I'm not surprised you aren't there. You look like the type who's going to run the streets in five years or so."

"And yet you insist on talking to me," I said with a nasty smirk.

"Maybe I like bad boys?" Ville said, his tone and facial expression clearly inviting me to make a comment on the statement. Feeling mildly irritated and a little more than curious to see if this boy would take a swing at me, I laughed.

"What, you're a faggot?" I hissed, leaning forward a little. The words burned my tongue like fire, because I knew that in some way, they described me. Ville's eyebrows rose in mild surprise.

"You think so? Well, I'm not the one sitting at home sulking because my boyfriend's dead, am I?" He mirrored my earlier expression, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. Fury rose in my chest and lit up my veins like neon. Who did he think he was? How did he even know? I felt tears in my eyes that were becoming way too familiar for my comfort, and in a desperate attempt to hide them, I hit Ville right in the jaw. He stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, one hand pressed to his face, the other scraping along the concrete. I felt some satisfaction when I caught the hurt look in his eyes. That feeling quickly faded, and despite my anger, I was a little sorry I'd hit him. Only a little.

"Just get out of here," I snapped, rubbing my bruising hand. "Did you hear me? Go home, dammit!" Ville pushed himself to his feet, still rubbing at his jaw.

"Sorry," he muttered, turning around and walking towards the street. I resisted the urge to call after him and stepped back inside the house, slamming the door with more force than necessary. What was this guy playing at? Trying to make nice one day, throwing low blows the next? You did kind of deserve it, said a voice in my head. You weren't exactly Mr. Congeniality. I sighed and shuffled into the living room, throwing myself down on the couch. Clearly this was not going to be a good day.



"I know you don't like the idea, but it might help you straighten out what you're feeling right now, honey." Ape had said different forms of this some ten thousand times in the last hour of completely circular conversation, and I was more than ready to snap. She'd pulled Phil and me into the kitchen to discuss the option of hiring a shrink for me to talk to. This, I'd decided, was total bullshit. I knew what I was feeling. I knew it very, very well. I was completely wrecked because my best friend in the world had been killed in a car accident. I was angry that I wasn't there to save him. I was angry that I was still alive while Jordan's funeral was on Friday. I didn't need some therapist with a wall of degrees to tell me that.

"No, Ape. The answer is no," I said shortly, staring pointedly at my hands which were balled into fists on my knees. My right hand was black and blue from the violent contact it had made with Ville's bony jaw hours earlier (when Ape noticed, I explained it away with a tale involving a wall and some carelessness). "I will do so much better if I'm just left alone."

"That's what I told you, April," Phil said from somewhere to my right. "Let it go, okay? It's up to Bam what he wants to do."

"I want to go skate for a while before it gets dark," I muttered, standing up and pulling on a hoodie. "I'll be back later." Before they could interrogate me further, I left the kitchen and walked out the front door. The chilly air was a relief after the stuffiness of my house (and the conversation in said house). I grabbed my board and headed for the street, thinking that perhaps it was my mother who needed the shrink, not me. The ramps at the skatepark were better therapists than anyone who had ever studied psychology.

When I arrived at the park, I saw that it was mostly empty. There was one person, sitting on the bleachers, concealed in shadows so I couldn't make out who it was. I was tempted to turn and head back home, in case this stranger was some kind of psychopath who might hit me over the head with a baseball bat and eat my heart or something. I rolled my eyes and went in anyway, deciding that if that person was some homicidal nutcase, I'd probably be able to take him. I goofed off for a while, doing tricks that had become second nature, before trying some more difficult things that I'd seen more than one of my friends fail miserably at. This resulted in a lot of falling down and my usual outbursts of vulgar language, not to mention a few wary glances at the shadowy stranger. He or she was definitely watching me.

"Hey!" I shouted, rubbing the elbow I'd just landed on. "You're kind of creeping me out, you know!"

"I've heard that before," the stranger laughed. It was no stranger, though. It was Ville. Again.

"Wow, you actually are a stalker," I groaned, kicking my skateboard away. "Humor me for a minute. I've yelled at you, I've punched you in the face, WHY the hell are you still around?"

"Maybe," Ville started, standing up and making his way down to the ramps, "I'm not very good at taking hints, Bammie."

"What did you call me?" I growled, narrowing my eyes at him. He'd put on a long jacket to ward off the cold. His jaw was sporting a mark to match the one on my knuckles. Somehow, he looked really... beautiful? Was that the word?

"I called you Bammie," Ville said, picking up my skateboard and examining it. "Hmm. You should probably call it a night, darling. You've done some pretty serious damage."

"Would you stop it with the nicknames and the 'darling' crap already?" I exclaimed, snatching the board away from him. He was right, it was definitely out of commission. Bastard. "You're really creepy, you know that?"

"So you've said," Ville grinned with a small nod. There was an uncomfortably long pause, during which we simply looked at each other. He looked so eerie in the glow of the moon and streetlamps. I hadn't even realized that night had actually fallen. Before I could make an excuse to leave, he laughed softly. "You've got a wicked right hand, you know."

"Um, yeah," I said, feeling my face heat up a little. "Look, I shouldn't have done that. And I probably shouldn't have been such a dick to you today."

"But that's who you are, isn't it, Bam?" Ville said knowingly, jerking his head to get his hair out of his eyes. "You're a dick to hide the fact that you have feelings."

"And what do you know about my feelings, exactly?" I said defensively, hugging myself as a brisk wind blew through the trees on the other side of the skatepark.

"I did come across you crying your eyes out in your backyard yesterday," Ville pointed out, no venom in his voice. He actually looked a little sympathetic. "And yeah, I know what happened. I talked to some neighborhood kids. I'm sorry for what I said today, by the way. That was awful of me."

"Whatever," I said with a shrug. "He wasn't my boyfriend though. Not... not really."

"Not really?" Ville said, cocking his head to the side. "What does that mean?"

"It means that this part of the conversation is over," I said quickly. Ville recoiled slightly and took a step back.

"Right, sorry," he muttered.

"Yeah," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Listen, it's late. I gotta get home. You want me to walk you to your place?"

"Why?" Ville asked, his eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"There are lots of crazies in this world, Willa," I said, walking past him and heading for the gate. "You're free to head home by yourself if you'd like, but there are lots of pervy old men who'd love to have someone like you for a night."

"Erm, yeah, I'm coming," Ville said, scurrying to catch up with me. "And it's Ville, you know." I shrugged, figuring that if he could call me something lame like 'Bammie', I had every right to give him a doofy nickname too. We walked in silence the whole way to Ville's house, which was just around the corner from mine. He turned to me from the driveway and gave me an awkward wave. I returned it wordlessly and walked back to my house where the porch light was gleaming alone in a sea of darkened homes. I tossed my now useless skateboard into the trashcan near the mailbox and dragged myself up the sidewalk, bracing myself for further discussion with my parents. When I walked in, though, Ape merely came into the hall to tell me to get to bed before disappearing into the kitchen. I didn't have it in me to argue, and sleeping didn't really seem like such a bad idea. I could hear my brother snoring from his bedroom as I walked into my room and shut my door. I fell into bed, still fully clothed, unsure of how badly I felt over the way Ville was steadily infiltrating a part of me that I'd only ever let Jordan see.

Title: When The Storm Subsides
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam, but that comes slightly later.
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: Somehow, he looked really... beautiful? Was that the word?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story and the things and people in it that I totally made up. Title and lyrics used belong to In This Moment.
Author's Note: Sorry this took forever and ever and ever to get posted. My life got turned upside down recently, and writing has been the last thing on my mind. I hope you can all forgive me.









Can this be real?
Can this be fate?


Lying in bed that night, I did very little sleeping. I could try to blame it on the howling wind outside, the unforgiving drumbeat the rain made on the roof, the ticking of the clock next to me, but they were not what was keeping me awake. Every time I closed my eyes, Jordan's face swam into my vision, his laugh filled my ears, and somehow, I could smell the cheap bodyspray he wore, Axe or Tag or some shit like that. I couldn't take it, having my mind flooded with memories. You'd think that it would make me feel better, to see Jordan, but it didn't. I knew he was in my head, not really with me. That was the trouble with being a realist. I never did waste my time on big dreams or fantasy. Things were what they were, no more, no less. Jordan was dead. Sure, he physically existed, but I didn't want to think about that. It wasn't his body that mattered though. His soul, the dancing light in his eyes, was gone forever. I never imagined I could feel so alone.



When I woke up, it was already noon. Ape apparently had decided to allow me to stay home from school. Any other day, I would have been thrilled. School wasn't exactly on top of the official "Bam's Favorite Hobbies" list, after all. But on this particular day, school sounded good. I needed to distract myself somehow. I'd rather think about William Shakespeare than my dead friend.

I made the decision to drag myself out of bed when someone started pounding on the front door. I made a promise to myself that if it was my batshit old lady neighbor Mrs. Rousa asking for a container of sugar again, I would promptly go jump off a bridge. I mean, it's not like we were living in fucking Leave It To Beaver-land. Go to the store, why don't you? Despite the temptation to just ignore the person at the door, I made my way down the stairs, halfheartedly muttering "I'm coming, hang on a second". When I finally reached the door and yanked it open, I had the urge to slam it shut again. It was that damn kid again, Ville. He was standing there with this stupid, awkward look on his face, one hand raised in a timid wave, and I kind of wanted to smack him.

"Hey," he said quietly. "I figured you'd be here."

"Yeah, it is my house," I drawled, leaning against the doorway. "Shouldn't you be at school? You look like the type who would enjoy it."

"I'm not registered yet," Ville replied, crossing his long arms over his chest and kind of sitting in his hip like all the girls with bad attitudes I knew did. "I'm not surprised you aren't there. You look like the type who's going to run the streets in five years or so."

"And yet you insist on talking to me," I said with a nasty smirk.

"Maybe I like bad boys?" Ville said, his tone and facial expression clearly reading, Go ahead, make a comment on that. Just do it. Feeling mildly irritated and a little more than curious to see if this boy would take a swing at me, I laughed.

"What, you're a faggot?" I hissed, leaning forward a little. The words burned my tongue like fire, because I knew that in some way, they described me. Ville's eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

"You think so? Well, I'm not the one sitting at home sulking because my boyfriend's dead, am I?" He mirrored my earlier expression, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. Fury rose in my chest and lit up my veins like neon. How dare he? How did he even know? I felt tears in my eyes that were becoming way too familiar, and in a desperate attempt to hide them, I punched Ville right in the jaw. He stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, a hand pressed to his face. I felt some satisfaction when I caught the hurt look in his eyes. That feeling quickly faded, and despite my anger, I was a little sorry I'd hit him. Only a little.

"Just get out of here," I snapped, rubbing my bruising hand. "Did you hear me? Go home, dammit!" Ville pushed himself to his feet, still rubbing at his jaw.

"Sorry," he muttered, turning around and walking towards the street. I resisted the urge to call after him and stepped back inside the house, slamming the door with more force than necessary. What was this guy playing at? Trying to make nice one day, throwing low blows the next? You did kind of deserve it, said a voice in my head. You're weren't exactly being Mr. Congeniality. I sighed and shuffled into the living room, throwing myself down on the couch. Clearly this was not going to be a good day.



"I know you don't like the idea, but it might help you straighten out what you're feeling right now, honey." Ape had said different forms of this some ten thousand times in the last hour of completely circular conversation, and I was more than ready to snap. I knew what I was feeling. I knew it very, very well. I was completely wrecked because my best fucking friend in the world had been killed in a car accident. I was angry that I wasn't there to save him. I was angry that I was still alive while Jordan's funeral was on Friday. I didn't need some therapist with a wall of degrees to tell me that.

"No, Ape. The answer is no," I said shortly, staring pointedly at my hands which were balled into fists on my knees. My right hand was black and blue from the violent contact it had made with Ville's jaw hours earlier. "I will do so much better if I'm just left alone."

"That's what I told you," Phil said from somewhere to my right. "April, let it go, okay? It's up to Bam what he wants to do."

"I want to go skate for a while before it gets dark," I muttered, standing up and pulling on a hoodie. "I'll be back later." Before they could interrogate me further, I left the kitchen and walked out the front door. The chilly air was a relief after the stuffiness of my house, and the conversation in said house. What was my mother thinking? There was no way I'd ever spring for going to see a fucking counselor. I grabbed my board and headed for the street, shaking my head with a bitter laugh. The ramps at the skatepark were better therapists than anyone who had ever studied psychology.

When I arrived at the park, I saw that it was mostly empty. There was one person, sitting on the bleachers, concealed in shadows so I couldn't make out who it was. I was tempted to turn and head back home, in case this stranger was some kind of psychopath who might hit me over the head with a baseball bat and eat my heart or something. I rolled my eyes and went in anyway, deciding that if that person was some homicidal nutcase, I'd probably be able to take him. I goofed off for a while, doing tricks that had become second nature, before trying some more difficult things that I'd seen more than one of my friends fail at. This resulted in a lot of falling down and vulgar language, not to mention a few wary glances at the shadowy stranger. He was definitely watching me.

"Hey!" I shouted, rubbing the elbow I'd just landed on. "You're kind of creeping me out, dude."

"I've heard that before," the stranger laughed. That was no stranger, though. That was Ville. Again!

"What the fuck man, you really are stalking me!" I groaned, kicking my skateboard away. "Come the fuck on, I've yelled at you, I've punched you in the face, WHY the hell are you still around?"

"Maybe," Ville started, standing up and making his way down to the ramps, "I'm not very good at taking hints, Bammie."

"What did you call me?" I growled, narrowing my eyes at him. He'd put on a long jacket to ward off the cold. His jaw was sporting a mark to match the one on my knuckles. Somehow, he looked really... beautiful? Was that the word?

"I called you Bammie," Ville said, picking up my skateboard and examining it. "Ooh, there's a nasty crack in this thing. You should probably call it a night, darling."

"Would you stop it with the nicknames and the 'darling' crap already?" I exclaimed, snatching the board away from him. He was right, the thing was definitely out of commission. Bastard. "You're really creepy, you know that?"

"So you've said," Ville grinned with a small nod. There was an uncomfortably long pause, during which we simply looked at each other. He looked so eerie in the glow of the moon and streetlamps. I hadn't even realized that night had fallen. Before I could make an excuse to leave, he laughed softly. "You've got a wicked right hand, you know."

"Um, yeah," I said, feeling my face heat up a little. "Look, I shouldn't have done that. And I probably shouldn't have been such a dick to you today."

"But that's who you are, isn't it, Bam?" Ville said knowingly, jerking his head to get his hair out of his eyes. "You're a dick to hide the fact that you have feelings."

"And what do you know about my feelings, exactly?" I said defensively, hugging myself as a brisk wind blew through the trees on the other side of the skatepark.

"I did come across you crying your eyes out in your backyard yesterday," Ville pointed out, no venom in his voice. He actually looked a little sympathetic. "And yeah, I know what happened. I talked to some neighborhood kids. I'm sorry for what I said today, by the way. That was awful of me."

"Whatever," I said with a shrug. "He wasn't my boyfriend though. Not... not really."

"Not really?" Ville said, cocking his head to the side. "What's that mean?"

"It means that this part of the conversation is over," I said quickly. Ville recoiled slightly and took a step back.

"Right, sorry," he muttered.

"Yeah," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Listen, it's late. I gotta get home. You want me to walk you to your place?"

"Why?" Ville asked, his eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"There are lots of crazies in this world, don'tcha know?" I said, walking past him and heading for the gate. "You're free to head home by yourself if you'd like, but there are lots of pervy old men who'd love to have someone like you for a night."

"Erm, yeah, I'm coming," Ville said, scurrying to catch up with me. I grinned wickedly and shook my head. This kid was something else. We walked in silence the whole way to Ville's house, which was just around the corner from mine. He turned to me from the driveway and gave me an awkward wave. I returned it wordlessly and walked back to my house where the porch light was gleaming alone in a sea of darkened homes. I tossed my now useless skateboard into the trashcan near the mailbox and dragged myself up the sidewalk, bracing myself for further discussion with my parents. When I walked in, though, Ape merely came into the hall to tell me to get to bed before disappearing into the kitchen. I shrugged, deciding that advice was probably good advice, and headed up the stairs. I could hear my brother snoring from his bedroom next to mine as I shut my door. I fell into bed, still fully clothed, wondering why I seemed to be thinking less about Jordan and more about the mysterious, beautiful borderline nutcase that lived down the street.

Uh, yesterday. I went up to the kid I've been infatuated with for MONTHS and finally, FINALLY spoke to him a little and gave him a note. It made me feel so happy and proud and confident. He hasn't really said much yet, but I'm waiting. =D

Title: When The Storm Subsides
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam, but that comes slightly later.
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: "I'm not up for making friends today, all right? You're too much like the one I just lost."
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story and the things and people in it that I totally made up. Title and lyrics used belong to In This Moment.
Warnings: There's a character death, but it's a fictional character. No worries.









Just say you'll be there for me
Please say that you'll be there
Just say that you'll be my side
When the storm subsides...


There are things in life that just shouldn't happen, but do. When you're in high school, you should be concerned with how your hair looks in the morning and whether you had any English homework the night before, not thinking about how to deal with death. But just because that's what should happen, doesn't mean it goes according to plan. It didn't for me. It didn't at all. In fact, the way it worked out for me was, I had to say goodbye to my best friend and... I suppose at some point, he became my lover. I had to say goodbye to him forever.

Jordan and I never really labeled what we had together as what it was. Even after the nights we spent alone under the tree in my backyard, even after the numerous "incidents" in my bedroom, he still would shrug and say, "Good friends, I guess." I really couldn't blame him. It's not like I was really prepared to go prancing around, waving a rainbow flag and shouting, "I'M GAY AND FABULOUS!" either. And we had foolishly agreed that we had time, that we didn't have to decide anything. We were fifteen, after all. We had our whole lives ahead of us, and this... this whatever we had going on was a small speck compared to what we had to look forward to.

Life doesn't work that way.

Exactly three months after Jordan and I had kissed for the first time, I found out. I'd seen the crash on the news the night before, one car twisted and spouting flames, the other hidden by a tarp. The news crew said that they were not releasing names at that time, so I really thought nothing of it. It didn't even strike me that the reason Jordan didn't call me that night could have been because... Yeah. It didn't even come to me the next morning when I didn't see Jordan walking to the school. I'd assumed he was either early or skipping out. But in homeroom, I knew something was wrong. There was far too much whispering, and the hallway outside the classroom was too quiet. I caught Novak's eye as I sat down next to him, and he simply shrugged. There wasn't even time for us to discuss the weird vibe in the school before our teacher walked in and told us all to sit down, that she had some bad news. That was when my brain inexplicably started to connect the dots. I felt my heart jump to my throat, my breath suddenly short and painful. I knew before she said it. I knew Jordan was...

"Something awful happened last night," Mrs. Morris said grimly. "One of our own students was killed in a car accident. It was Jordan Kelley. I... I really don't know what to say... There will be a counselor..."

I'm not sure what she went on to say, seeing as all of my senses seemed to fail. Jordan, my Jordan, was dead. Before I could tell him I loved him, before I could even say goodbye. My throat tightening was the first thing I became aware of, and then the feeling of a hand on my shoulder, and then the sound of Novak's voice.

"Bam, hey, you all right?" he asked quietly. I could barely hear him over the sound of the other two dozen voices in the room. I shook my head, both as an answer and an attempt at clearing my mind. This isn't happening. Not to me, not to him. No. Just NO.

"You wanna go see the counselor?" Novak asked. I blinked a couple of times, surprised to feel tears on my face.

"Uh... I don't know," I said numbly. Novak stood up and grabbed my arm, pulling me up carefully with him. He asked the teacher if we could go outside for a minute. Normally that was unheard of, letting a couple of kids outside on their own (this had never stopped us before, however), but I think the look on my face was enough to warrant some fresh air. My friend dragged me out of the classroom and down the hall, telling people off if they looked at me strangely. It felt like years before we were outside, the chilly November air finally shaking me from my trance. I looked at Novak, confused for a second, before I sank down weakly to one of the front steps. I felt tiny rocks under my palms, smelled the flowers growing nearby, heard my heartbeat in my ears. Things I'd never cared about before. Alive, I thought. I am. I'm alive. And I'm alone.

"Jordan's gone," I whispered. It wasn't a question or a statement, wasn't anything. Just words.

"Yeah," Novak said, his voice empty of expression. He didn't sound like himself at all. "I, uh... yeah."

"I wanna... I just wanna go," I managed to say, my dry mouth making me choke on every word.

"Home?" Novak asked, leaning against the steel railing. "I bet they'll let you. You're kind of a mess right now."

"No," I muttered, hugging myself and rocking back and forth. "I just wanna go. Just run away, I don't care where. Not here."

"Bam, you're kinda scaring me," Novak said cautiously. He reached out to me carefully, as though I was some kind of ferocious animal that might flip its shit and rip him apart. "C'mon, let's go talk to the counselor so you can get sent home--"

"NO!" I shouted. "That's not going to make this okay! I need... I need Jordan." Those three words made me lose it. Normally I would have been humiliated for crying like a little girl, and normally Novak would have laughed his ass off at me, but this time was different. This time, my worst nightmares had come true, and even Novak, stoned, stupid Novak, could tell. He sat down next to me and pulled me close, whispering comforting things in my ear in a way I didn't know he was capable of. I don't know how long we sat out there, how long I cried, before a teacher came out to check on us. We were immediately ushered back inside, the hallways empty and silent. Dead. Dead like Jordan. Jordan, who was now in a morgue somewhere, cold and lifeless... not with me. Not ever again.



Within half an hour, my parents were called, the counselor thinking it best that I go home. Novak had never left my side, and Dico and Raab joined us outside the school office where I was waiting for Ape and Phil to arrive. None of them asked me anything or commented on the fact that I was still hiccupping a little bit. I realized dimly that I really did have the best friends ever. Even if they did enjoy lighting my personal belongings on fire.

"It's gonna be okay, Bam," Dico said, surprisingly somber, as my mother's car pulled up.

"Yeah," Raab said with a quick nod. "We're here for you if you need whatever."

"Thanks," I mumbled, pushing myself off the floor. The others followed suit and patted me on the back before heading back to class, or wherever it was that they went. Novak hung back a minute though, and looked me dead in the eyes for a long moment before speaking.

"I'm not sure what the situation was," he began, clearly choosing his words carefully, "but I know something was going on with you and Jordan. And I just want you to know that I'm totally okay with all of that, and with you. If you're gay or whatever... cool. You're still you, you know?"

"Um, thanks," I said awkwardly. "I don't even know... thanks." I let Novak hug me one more time, just as Ape and Phil walked in the front doors, before watching him head down one of the hallways. My parents were instantly at my side, Ape holding me close, Phil asking if I was all right. I had no answers, for once in my life. I just shrugged my shoulders and pulled away from them both, knowing that if I looked at either of their faces for much longer, the tears would start again.

After another painful chat with the school counselor, my parents and I were in the car on our way home. Ape was trying very hard to get me to talk, but I couldn't make any words come out besides "Can we just not do this right now?". When we got to the house, I was out of the car before it had stopped moving. I didn't go inside though, because that would only result in arguments and door slamming. No, I went around the house into the backyard, straight to the old, suddenly very appropriate, weeping willow tree. The one that Jordan and I had long ago deemed our special place. It had served as a fort, a place to hide, a place to stay when we were sick of everyone else, a place to get wasted, a place where everything and nothing made sense. Now, I realized as I moved branches aside so I could get underneath them, it would never serve as those things again. From now on, it would just be a place where two carefree kids once spent their time, until one of them ceased to exist.

I threw myself down at the base of the tree, pulling my knees up to my chest, feeling that sickening ache in my chest again. I didn't want to cry, I hated how it made me feel. I felt defeated and weak when I cried. I was the kind of person who made a joke out of life. I never showed my emotions, or even vaguely acknowledged them. It was always so easy to pretend I didn't have any feelings beyond "HOLY SHIT THAT WAS FUNNY!". Jordan changed that. Jordan managed to do what no one else could; he made me be human. When I was around Jordan, just Jordan, I was a completely different person. I was a real person. I never knew why, though. Jordan just had some kind of effect on me that couldn't be explained. There were days when I wondered if he was something better than human, an angel or something. He definitely looked like an angel, all bright blue eyes and shoulder-length white blonde hair. People often stared at him because of his striking appearance; he'd just smile and wave, which seemed to put people well in their place. Everyone always said he was weird, even me, but he wasn't that uncomfortable kind of weird. He just seemed to know better than everyone, like he had the entire world figured out, and he was at complete peace with that. Had he known he was going to die?

"Hey, are you all right?" I looked up sharply to see a tall, skinny kid pushing tree branches aside to peer curiously at me. He had a strange voice, heavily accented and far too deep to suit his appearance. He had a very feminine face, pale as one of the porcelain dolls my grandmother collected with green eyes that seemed to glitter in the sunlight that filtered through the branches of the willow tree. He had somewhat long, dark brown hair that was almost as curly as mine. It looked as if he had tried to straighten it, but decided it was a lost cause. He was dressed in a plain white T-shirt and dark jeans that had to have been made for girls, which made me raise an eyebrow. I guess not everyone is as paranoid about looking gay as I am...

"Fine," I replied shortly, wondering where the hell this kid got off thinking he could just come over here and ask me questions. "Go away."

"What's your name?" the kid persisted. I glared at him, deciding he was either stupid or had a lot of nerve.

"I think I should be asking you that, seeing as this is MY property you're on," I drawled. The kid rolled his eyes.

"My name's Ville," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "And technically, this is your father's property, not yours."

"Oh, you're a smartass, huh?" I snapped. "Listen, I don't know what you want, but you need to just go home, okay?"

"I told you what I want," the kid, Ville, I guess it was, said calmly. "I want to know your name."

"Why?" I asked irritably. "What do you need to know for?"

"I just moved here and--"

"If you think I'm going to be your friend, fucking forget it!" I shouted, standing up. Ville took a step back and raised his hands (My God, is that nail polish?) in defense.

"Calm down," he said, looking frightened. "I didn't mean to upset you, I just--"

"I don't care!" I yelled. "I'm not up for making friends today, all right? You... You're too much like the one I just lost." The end of my sentence came out weaker than I'd intended, and I realized that he really was too much like Jordan. I'd just let my guard down for him. I pushed past Ville and started back to the house, when something made me stop and look back at him.

"It's Bam," I said grudgingly. He looked at me strangely. "My name, I mean. It's Bam."

"Oh," he said softly. Oh.

Title: Self-Loathing
Author: breathe_misery
Pairing: Gerard/Gerard
Rating: R
POV: real life!Gerard's
Summary: "Do you hate me, Gerard? Do you wish I'd never existed?"
Disclaimer: All I own is the story. Owning MCR would be awkward.
Author Notes: I actually wrote this because I made a little promise to all_tattooed that I would. Hope you like it, I tried not to suck too badly. XD
Beta: idonthavefleas
Warnings: Kind of insane AU. If the thought of Gerard fooling around with himself, and not in the normal way, bothers you, then maaaaaybe you should go read something else?

It was something of a trademark, a thing people expected when they watched me perform. My behavior onstage was almost shameful, with the way I pranced around as though I was the hottest thing on earth. But that was what people wanted, and so that was what they got. I touched everyone in the band, but they couldn't touch me. Well, Frankie could, but that was just because people wanted to see that too. I said outrageous, bawdy things that would make a hooker blush. I danced provacatively, in ways that you'd never imagine that I could by just looking at me. It was my job, for at least one hour a night for months on end, to be completely full of myself. To positively worship myself, so that the thousands could worship along with me. I had to be beautiful, I had to be confident. I had to be untouchable.

For one hour.

When the lights went down, when the crowd gave one final, collective scream, when my microphone was turned off and my bandmates were calling dibs on the showers, my job was done. I'd stand alone in the wings for a short moment, putting my real self back together. The self that actually really hated what was in the mirror, the self that hardly touched itself, much less anyone else. The self that barely spoke at all, the self that didn't even like to stand idly in front of people. The self that wondered how much longer it could hold this vague charade of happiness. Once this was in check, I could go on with my life for the next twelve hours, before the madness started again and I became a god once more.

 

 

I sat alone in the back lot of the venue, smoking a cigarette that I'd bummed off of one of the roadies. Brian had been trying to make me quit, but I was a little less than concerned about pleasing him at the moment. Tonight was going to suck, I just knew it. I had that feeling, like how the turtle in Over The Hedge got a tingly tail when things weren't right? That was how I felt, but without the tail. The tingling, however, was present, but that might have been because I'd been sitting on concrete for a half hour.

"Sick of playing games yet?" I must have jumped a foot at the sudden noise to my left. I must have jumped another foot when I saw where it had come from. Leaning against a telephone pole, dressed all in black except for a white button-up shirt, was an almost perfect copy of myself. I say almost perfect because this Gerard was a hell of a lot better looking than I was. His face lacked the lines that mine had, his hair was shinier and straighter, and his eyes had more light than mine had posessed in a very long time. But there was something wrong. This Gerard lacked the warmth that I knew I had. He was beautiful, yes, even to me. But it was cold beauty. There was no life behind those eyes, no glow to that perfect white skin. This Gerard looked like a doll. But I couldn't help the twinge of jealousy I felt as I looked at him. At... me?

"Um, excuse me?" I managed to choke out, not sure if I should stand up or not. The other Gerard laughed quietly and raked a hand through his perfect hair, which settled right into place when his fingers left it.

"Are you tired of going out on that stage, shaking your ass, making girls scream, then going back to the bus to wallow in your misery?" he asked, icy eyes watching me carefully. "And don't lie. You can't. Not to me."

"What the fuck is going on?" I asked, deciding that standing might be my best option if I needed to karate chop this guy's ass. I wondered dimly if that would hurt me as well, if I hit the other Gerard. He just laughed at me again.

"No, it wouldn't hurt you," he said, looking only vaguely amused. "But that wouldn't be very nice, anyway. What's wrong, Mr. No Violence? Losing your morals?"

"Shut the fuck up and answer my question," I barked, figuring that if I acted tough, maybe he'd back off. He raised an eyebrow, a cold smirk on his lips.

"What's going on? I'll tell you what's going on." He walked right up to me and looked me dead in the eyes, and I knew he could see my fear. "I'm here because your self-loathing has gotten the better of you. I'm here, Gee-face, because everything you hate about yourself is becoming stronger than what you really are. I'm here because you're a weak, pathetic little freak. Answer your question?"

"Uh-uhm," I gulped, taking a step back. Quick as lightning, the other Gerard's hand was on my upper arm, gripping with inhuman strength.

"Not thinking about running, are you?" he pouted. "We're just getting to know each other, it would be rude for you to leave now. Tsk tsk, slipping in morals and manners. What would your-- haha, excuse me, what would our mother say?"

"Get away from me," I whispered, trying to break free from his grasp. He just smiled humorlessly, seemingly not exerting any energy at all in holding me in place. But I couldn't move.

"I can't get away from you," he said calmly. "I am you, whether you like it or not. You have to deal with that, now don't you?"

"I don't know how, just let me go," I pleaded, looking anywhere but his eyes. "Please."

"Do you hate me, Gerard?" he whispered in my ear, breath hot and real in my ear. It made my skin itch. "Do you wish I'd never existed? Do you want me to go away?"

"I don't know, please--"

"Do you hate me?" he asked venomously, his lips still at my ear. "I know the answer, I just want to hear you say it."

"Say it yourself," I said quickly, spitting out the words before I lost my nerve. His fingers tightened their grip.

"Don't be clever," he growled, moving closer so our chests were pressed together. "Just do what I ask. Say it." His other hand made itself known on my hip, and I shivered slightly. I knew what this would have had to look like to anyone else. Bizzarre, Twilight Zone-worthy even. And somewhere deep inside of me, in a place I'd never even known existed, I was thinking about how incredibly right the other Gerard's hand felt against my side. It was then that his lips moved from my ear to my neck, where they actually touched skin. They weren't cold, like I'd imagined, but impossibly warm and soft as silk.

"I know your thoughts better than you do, sweetheart," he drawled, his fingers moving to slip under my shirt. I jumped, but his other hand still held me tightly. "Maybe you are so self-centered that you don't hate me after all..."

"No," I muttered, my eyes slipping shut as he backed me up into a chainlink fence, teeth nipping at my skin. I'd meant to make my words forceful, but it all felt too good. I didn't mean no, and I knew it. He knew it.

"I'm beginning to love how weak you are," he murmered, chuckling softly against my neck. The hand under my shirt came to rest over my heart, which was beating wildly inside of my chest. "It gives me a reason to exist, you know?" His fingers moved lower, nails dragging along the way, until they were at the waistband of my jeans. That was when I knew it had to stop, before I gave in to whatever sick things my dark side wanted me for.

"I hate you," I whispered, staring into his eyes, my eyes. His eyebrows raised in shock, but he let go and stepped back.

"That's a shame," he said softly, tilting his head to the side. "That's a damn shame... Because you need me."

 

"Dude, wake up!"

"Wha--?" I opened my eyes and squinted up at Frankie, who was standing in front of me, looking at me weirdly.

"How the hell did you fall asleep out here?" he asked, offering his hand. I took it and allowed him to pull me up, running a hand through my messy hair.

"No clue," I said with a yawn. "Um, almost showtime?"

"Just about," Frankie nodded. "Interesting dream?"

"What?" I asked sharply, looking at him with wide eyes.

"You may want to take care of that before we go on, dear," he said, gesturing vaguely at my waist. I looked down and-- oh.

"Damn," I muttered, taking off at a run towards the venue, leaving Frankie behind. As soon as I got through a door that wasn't locked, I went inside an empty room and shut the door behind me. I caught sight of myself in a mirror and couldn't swallow a terrified gasp. Small red marks made by unnaturally tiny teeth dotted my pale neck like spider bites. I shakily removed my jacket and pulled up the sleeve of my T-shirt, knowing what I'd find but wanting to see it anyway. And there it was, a large bruise encircling my bicep. A very real bruise. He was real.

A dull ache in the pit of my stomach reminded me that the other Gerard had left me with a problem. I groaned and pulled my jacket back on before leaving the room and going on a search for an unoccupied bathroom. Tonight was going to be hell.

 

I final notes of Helena filled the arena, and the lights dimmed slowly before fading entirely as the crowed roared. I already felt the high of the show wearing off, and it only caused me to think about the "dream" from earlier that night. For that one hour, I became that other me. That cold, invincible beauty who could have whoever, whatever he wanted. Even himself. And he had that, that was certain. He'd been right. I needed him. I needed him because without him, I could never escape the harsh reality that I just would never be good enough. Not for anyone. Most definitely not for myself.

I stared angrily in the grimy bathroom mirror, the same one I'd been determined not to look in earlier as I washed my hands after fixing my "problem". Dream or no dream, the other Gerard had won. He was right. I was, in the end, a whore for myself.

"It's okay, you know," he whispered, appearing behind me, his arms sliding around my waist to hold me almost lovingly to his chest. "I have no problems with being a whore, myself." I looked at our reflection and watched as my face moved to imitate his cold smirk.

"You know what... neither do I."

Well, actually, I don't think I can classify this as a cynical bitch rant. I've had cynical bitch rants about My Chemical Romance. Those were just awful, and I'm actually somewhat proud of that. That's fucking demented, but whatever. THE POINT IS, one angry blog likes to lead into another and another and another and EVENTUALLY, I get so fucking jaded with the band, fandom, music, and everything else that I just say "Fuck it" and move on. That's actually why I started getting into HIM all intense-like over the last month or so. I finally realized that MCR just pissed me off too much anymore, and that I needed to go be spend my time on a band that made me consistently happy.

And that is where this little rant takes us today... Yes, HIM has indeed made me happy. All kinds of happy. It's almost wrong, how happy they make me. I've never really talked about my discovery OF HIM, but I will now. I guess it was early 2006 or late 2005 when I "found" them. It was basically an accident. I was still kind of a n00b in the MCR fandom (oh, innocence, I miss thee), and that was opening up doors to other bands as well. So, I'd heard a lot about this group of dudes from Finland, and I was totally indifferent for a while. I'm usually that way about bands I wind up loving. I don't bother listening to them for MONTHS, just because I'm too lazy. But eventualy, while toddling around Wal-Mart with some extra cash, I picked up Dark Light. I figured that if HIM was good, then that was awesome. If they weren't, I could probably find someone who liked them to give the CD to. Whatever.

I took that record home, and fell in love. I actually think I almost cried. I distinctly remember thinking, "This is the band. The one I've been poking around looking for all my life." I know that sounds corny, but I swear that's what I thought. I still think that, really. It's miraculous, I think, when music can actually make you feel something. HIM always makes me feel something, no matter how many times I've heard their songs. But I never got really involved in the fandom. It was ages before I knew band members' names, before I really kept up with news... That was My Chem business, no other band got that treatment from me. I don't know why, actually. I guess I'm really shit at multi-tasking with band obsessions? Meh. ANYWAY... I loved HIM, but I wasn't devoted. To this day, I only have one legit HIM poster among an ocean of MCR. And when I say ocean, I do mean ocean. Hoooly fuck...

ANYWAY... Yesh. I've liked HIM for quite a while. But MCR was my focus, which was fine. Until The Black Parade came out, and that focus became an utter nightmare. I don't know why I put myself through as much shit as I did, trying to still love My Chem even though everything about them was beginning to make me sick. TWO YEARS I tried to deal with that. Ridiculous. It wasn't until recently that I finally said, "You know what, that's it. I'm bailing. Call me when my old favorite band comes back, hey?". And I'm the kind of person who has a lot of trouble letting beloved things go unless I have something to replace them with. Like, every pet that's ever died or run away? I've had to get a new pet quickly so I don't dwell on how much I miss the old one for too long. I tend to steep in my misery too intensely, and while that might be artistically stimulating for some, I just cry a lot and want to throw up. So yeah. When I shut the door (temporarily, I hope) on My Chem, I went straight to HIM. It was simple logic. These guys had yet to fail me, these guys had consistently made really awesome music for a really fecking long time. I was safe, hallelujah!

Ha. Right. WELL. All may not be fine and dandy in HIMland for me just yet. See, I read a little article today in which Ville was talking about the next HIM record. He said that it might be a bit more aggressive and whatnot. Um. I got this horrible, cold feeling in the pit of my stomach, and the only words in my brain were, "Not again."

No one can understand the complete mental breakdown I had over MCR and The Black Parade. I don't even understand it. I guess I'd built this band up to almost god-like status in my mind, whether I realized it or not, and when the completely FAILED, it was a nasty shock. A really nasty shock. Now, I haven't had a lot of time to build HIM up to that point, but there's a lot of time between now and this new record. I got to my My Chem viewpoint in about a year, and it was ripped down in about the same timeframe. That's the amount of time one can estimate the next HIM record is going to be put out, because they're a bunch of quick fuckers. I think you can see my dilema?

I don't want to go through that same fuckery again. I don't want to feel deserted by *my boys* again. I know it's silly, but I sometimes feel closer to a bunch of rockstars I've never even personally SEEN than people I actually know. And my automatic response to someone I invest a lot of emotion and time into completely disappointing me is resentment. You know Gerard Way? That man used to be my fucking hero, he meant the WORLD to me. I loved him. And maybe I still do. But things got bad after TBP was released, and I've grown to almost hate him, what he's become, more than love him. I really don't want that to happen with Ville Valo. I don't know why, but it's almost like he stepped through an absolutely horrific moment in my life, took my hand, and pulled me out. He's been there all this time, but I didn't need him until recently, and he knew that somehow. It's silly, I know. And I'm in dangerous territory there, and I know that too. Giving your heart to someone, even in that unacknowledged way, opens up doors for them to inadvertently and unknowingly hurt you. I know this, because it happened once, and I don't want it to happen again.

It's fucking stupid how absorbed I get in bands and fandom and records and singers and fail that comes from all of these. Because I get so worked up over it, and it doesn't fucking AFFECT ME. What the hell does it MATTER if HIM's next record blows? I DON'T KNOW, BUT IT DOES MATTER. No, it won't punch me in the face or anything, but it'll still matter. Bands, the people in them, and music are a gigantic part of my life. I basically created my personality after I realized I didn't actually HAVE one by watching Gerard Way for four years. I found inspiration for writing through bands and their music. I got through really shitty times in my life with headphones stuck to my ears. "Music is life" is a lame phrase, but it's startlingly true for me.

Um, anyway, my point? If HIM fucks this up, if their music turns to complete shit because Ville got sober or whatever other excuse they have, I don't know what I'm going to fucking do. In this case, I have no other band to turn to. And I'm almost tempted to think that any band I WOULD look to for comfort would turn to complete shit shortly after my doing so. Seems to be the trend.

Basically, I'm not going to deal with getting my heart broken by people who don't know or care that they're doing it. That sucks a lot, because you can't even yell or throw things at bands that upset you. Well, you can, but it gets interpreted as love and presents. It's like a clueless boyfriend on steroids. And I'm not feeling it.

HIM fans might get mad at me for taking the darker view of things here. But I am a jaded, cynical little bitch these days, and I know from experience that sometimes caution doesn't hurt a person as far as bands go. If HIM's new record goes really well, then that's fantastic and I will sleep better at night. If it doesn't, who knows?

Ha. Guess I'm the only one who is ACTUALLY "keeping it doomy". Get with it, kids. Get with it.

*flail* If I can't get these tickets, transportation, and a willing accomplice, I'll cry or something else similarly embarrassing. I NEED to see this show. I need to see any show, tbh. Just so I can get out and go temporarily deaf. It's been MONTHS since I've gone to see a band play live.

*bites nails* I. Must. Go.

Maybe that can be my birthday present this year. Going to this show. After all, fifteen's a big one, it's only fair.... =D

When people come spamming my face off with, "OMG, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR STORY?!?", please keep in mind that I blame you.

I put that post behind a cut so it wouldn't bother anyone and everything.

-.-  GTFO.

GERARD WAY, CUT THAT OUT RIGHT NOW.  NO BINGO FOR YOU.

YOU'RE ABOUT TO BE A DAD.

YOU'VE GOT TWENTY YEARS OR SO BEFORE YOU GO TO GRANDPA LAND.


STOP EEEEEET.

I deleted Black and White Rosary. I can send you a link, if you want, that will take you to my MySpace blog, where B&WR is still posted. Keep in mind that I wouldn't reccomend reading it. But, if you do want to, feel free to save that page to your favorites or whatever so you can read that story.

Sorry guys, but you know shit never goes down that way. And you should know that I like to make people cry. *shrug*

Title: Almost Lover
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam
Rating: PG - 13
Summary: Ville's found his almost lover.
Disclaimer: Seriously, I am DRAWING THE BATHTUB HOME LINE at Novak. That's it, NO ONE ELSE. I don't own anything/anyone in this story.
Warnings: Go find a box of tissues, 'kay?
Authors Notes: THIS ONE IS LONG, OMG! Inspired by the song "Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy. So, you know, you may want to listen to it or read the lyrics. Might help. And, for the record, I liked this song BEFORE it had jack to do with Twilight. =]






I looked over at you, running a hand through my hair, which had been overcome by a horrible case of bedhead. You were still fast asleep, your mouth open a little, one hand over your stomach, the other still clasping mine, even though you'd put it there before we'd let sleep overtake us for the night. The sunlight streaming through the window made your hair shine perfectly, and made your newly tan skin seem to glow. You looked beautiful. Not that you didn't always, but in that moment, you looked twice as perfect as usual. I felt lucky, blessed even, to have you in my life. I always did, but that morning, in that little island beach house, on that vacation, in that bed with you by my side, with the memory of you telling me you loved me for the first time still fresh in my mind, it was clearer than it had ever been.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked, your voice scratchy from sleep. I smiled slightly, shaking my head.

"How pretty you are," I replied, lifting our still locked hands and kissing your knuckles.

"Oh ha ha, very funny," you muttered, letting go of my fingers and rubbing your eyes in that way that I loved so much, the way that made you look like a child.

"What's funny?" I asked, rolling onto my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows. "You're really beautiful, Bammie. And don't argue with me about it, I haven't had my morning cigarette."

"Whatever," you yawned, reaching out and touching my hair. "You should see how frizzy your hair is right now. It's like, poof!"

"Oh, what a darling boyfriend you are," I scoffed. "I compliment you, and you tell my my hair's fucked up. The nerve of you!"

"I know, I love me, too," you giggled, leaning over and kissing my cheek. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to piss."

"Thank you so much for sharing," I said sarcastically, narrowing my eyes at you.

"Aww, look how intimidating you are!" you squealed dramatically. "I need my fucking camera." I sat up and hit you over the head with my pillow, which quickly led to us running around the room like a couple of kids until you managed to lock yourself in the bathroom.

"I'll get you later!" I shouted at the door.

"I'm sure you will, sweetheart," you said sweetly. I actually never did, but that was because I managed to get my morning cigarette.

The vacation might have been the best idea you'd ever had. We'd both been miserable for ages, our lives getting in the way of... well, our lives. I'd been fighting with the record company, as usual. This time it was because they refused to let HIM include a love song on the new record that openly had to do with a man instead of a woman (I eventually settled for having it as a hidden track that we couldn't talk about, but it pissed me off anyway). You'd been going through a divorce. Your problems were decidedly worse than mine, but it was kind of symbolic that our problems had to do with each other in some way. At least I thought so. You've never been much for understanding symbolism. But that's all right, it's enough for me to see your perfectly adorable, clueless face when I start talking about deep things.

"I know you hate the sun, but you can't tell me the ocean's not pretty." I looked up quickly to see you leaning against the doorway, watching me intently. I hadn't even heard you come outside.

"Well, yeah," I said, exhaling smoke. "It is. And I don't hate the sun, Bam. I just don't like it affecting my skin tone, thank you. I don't want to look like a designer handbag in ten years."

"Oooh, I see," you said, taking a seat on the porch steps next to me. You offered me your coffee mug, and I took it gratefully, passing my cigarette to you. "That's all right. I rather like the fact that you look like some expensive doll."

"Should I be offended?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You snickered and took a long drag off of the cigarette.

"I don't know, should you?"

"Ugh, stop taking mysterious lessons from me," I muttered, sipping at the black coffee. "It's not fair. You're the straightforward one, I'm the one who never gives a simple answer, let's keep it that way."

"Aw, but it's fun!" you whined. "Or, maybe it's not. And maybe I'm lying to you. And maybe, I'm Superman." I giggled stupidly, slapping your arm.

"You're such a pain, Bam," I informed you, although I knew the look on my face betrayed the words.

"As you can see, I was named accordingly."

"You were indeed..."

We sat together for almost an hour, watching the waves roll up onto the shore, then pull back again. Eventually my cigarette burned out and the coffee was gone, and I'd managed to scoot over and wrap my arms around your waist. Your arms circled around my shoulders, and I relaxed against you, committing everything about that moment to memory. This, I'd thought, is the best day of my life.



I looked in the window of a Voodoo shop, momentarily entranced by the array of brightly colored Orisha beads and candles. Fancy Voodoo dolls wrapped in festive cloth rested on a table with horseshoes, pots of something called magnetic sand, bundles of herbs, and small vials of scented oil. You nudged me gently and gave me a weird look.

"Not planning on cursing anyone, are you?" you teased. I rolled my eyes and blushed.

"Of course not," I said, allowing you to lead me on down the street. New Orleans was absolutely wild, which was hardly a surprise. We were jostled around as we walked, but the crowd allowed us to hold hands freely, granted us moments where we were nameless and not cared about by anyone but each other. It was something I never wanted to leave behind.

"Not even those tools who wouldn't let Our Song be featured openly on your CD?" you asked, grinning wickedly. Our Song, you'd said. My heart melted.

"Okay, maybe them," I admitted. "But they'll get theirs someday without my help. And hey, it's actually better that they didn't allow that song to be in the main track listing. It made more people buy the record when word got out about the song."

"True," you said, nodding slightly. "Wonder how many figured out it's about you and me?"

"Only people who've ever cared about the possibility, I shrugged. "Which is fine. Probably made people squeal happily and fall out of their chairs."

"Will you squeal happily and fall out of a chair while I film it someday?" you asked, your eyes lighting up. "Because that would be so adorable."

"We'll see, Bammie," I laughed, adjusting my hat. "We'll see."

"That always means yes," you said smugly, kissing my cheek.

"Not always!" I argued. "Like when I you told me to get up in five minutes and I said 'we'll see'? I didn't get up for TEN minutes. So ha!"

"Your clock was wrong."

"Was it?"

"Yes. Five minutes off."

"Dammit."

We made our way back to our room in the French Quarter, but not until I'd bought myself a new scarf and you'd bought an obnoxiously red, cheesy T-shirt that read, "I fell in love again in New Orleans". You bought me one too, in an equally obnoxious yellow, but I said I'd never wear it, ever. You just rolled your eyes and dragged me off to the next store, muttering that I'd be wearing the shirt before the night was over.

You were right. After we tucked all of our newly acquired souvenirs into our bags, you'd pulled me down onto the bed for what should have been just a kiss. But before long, clothes came off and one thing led to another, and then we really needed a shower. When we came out of the bathroom, I discovered that I was out of clean clothing, and you laughed mercilessly as I pulled the horrid T-shirt over my head, followed by a pair of your pajama bottoms.

"I will fucking get you for this," I seethed, pouting next to you under the covers.

"That's all right, babe," you smiled, wrapping your arms around me and pressing your face into my shoulder. "It'll be worth it."



I was blindfolded and you were leading me up a hill. My legs were getting tired, and I was wheezing a little as we walked. I was getting slightly irritated with you, because you wouldn't tell me where we were going or why we couldn't just drive there. A surprise, you'd told me. For his sake, it had better be really fucking good, I'd thought viciously.

"Okay, we're here," you said, sounding almost giddy. I ripped the blindfold off and tossed it to the ground, thankful to be rid of it. My annoyance disappeared immediately though, as I looked up and saw my surprise. A picnic. A fucking picnic under my favorite big tree in my favorite park. I couldn't believe it.

"Bam," I whispered, my mouth open a little. "I... wow, Bam, I don't know what to say."

"Just tell me you like it," you said, blushing a little. I looked at you and grinned.

"I love it," I said honestly, leaning in and stealing your lips in a kiss. "I love it a lot. But it's so... out of character for you."

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but sometimes, some strange monster takes over and makes me want to be an incredible boyfriend," you said in mock horror. "It's so horrible. I think I need therapy." You pretended to choke up on the last word, and I giggled in that embarrassing way reserved only for you.

"Delay that a little, if it means more surprises like this," I told you, kissing you one more time before going to sit one the red and white checkered blanket. You came and sat down with much less grace than I had, and grinned at me.

"You know what today is?" you asked me, pulling out plates and napkins.

"Should I know what today is?" I asked nervously.

"Uh, yeah," you said, looking at me incredulously. I continued to stare at you blankly. "WILLA! TODAY'S OUR ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY!"

"It is?" I asked, absolutely horrified.

"No, I'm only messing with you," you snickered. "It's actually just Friday." I threw a muffin at you, almost growling.

"You're such a douchebag," I groaned.

"But I set up a picnic for you!"

"Please, your mother set up the picnic."

"How original."

"I'm not making a joke!" I laughed. "She DID, didn't she?"

"....Shut up, Valo."

Twilight had fallen when you pulled out the battery operated CD player. You hit 'play' and Our Song, the one I'd written, began to play softly from the speakers. I looked at you, completely confused for a moment, before you stood up and offered me your hand.

"May I have this dance?" you asked dramatically. I blushed deeply and took your hand, feeling distinctly like a sixteen-year-old girl who'd just been asked out by the boy she'd wanted for years. You led us away from the picnic, further under the tree, and put one hand on my waist, keeping the other entwined with mine, raised up slightly. I put my free hand awkwardly on your shoulder, face still red, eyes to the ground.

"You're adorable when you're shy, Willa," you told me, nuzzling your nose against mine. You gently led the dance, turning us slowly in a circle. I finally met your eyes and smiled coyly, pressing my forehead to yours.

"What did I do to deserve you?" I asked softly.

"You went through tons of people who didn't treat you right," you replied. "Then one day, fate decided to give you me. Wasn't that nice of fate?"

"Absolutely wonderful," I said darkly. You chuckled and kissed me again.

"I never want to see you unhappy again, Ville," you said gently, looking earnestly into my eyes. "I won't let you be."

"Thanks, but how will I write good music then?"

"Stub your toe on something and turn it into a metaphor for a painful love affair?" you suggested.

I fell in love again. Except it wasn't in New Orleans. Take that, you stupid T-shirt.



I looked out the window, watching the cars drive on the rain-soaked road. I wished I could be out there in that rainstorm, running away from this, from the words you were saying, from you altogether. After everything we'd been through, after all the things we said, after all of the promises we'd made to each other... Especially that big one we'd made two years ago, with God as our witness, with you in a white tux, me in a black one, rings on our fingers and happy tears in our eyes... You were causing it to fall down at our feet, with just a few simple words.


"Ville, please look at me and listen," you pleaded. I could almost hear my tears hitting the floor as I turned to look at you.

"I don't need to listen, I know what you're trying to say," I whispered, trying to swallow the sobs that threatened to escape my throat. "You don't love me anymore. I fucking get it, Brandon."

"Ville, don't," you said, coming over to me and trying to wipe my tears away. I pushed you away, wishing you would yell, hit me, break something. Anything, just so I could be angry. I couldn't handle this, because I still loved you.

"Don't what?" I asked hysterically. "Don't be upset? Don't cry? What do you want me to do then?! You're leaving me!"

"Please don't make this any more painful, Ville," you begged, capturing my wrists in your strong hands, stilling my movements. That was when I lost it, when I completely broke down and fell into you, sobbing into your shoulder. Your arms found their usual place around my small frame, and I did not have the strength to stop you. You lowered us to the floor and held me as I cried, rocking slowly back and forth, your own chest heaving slightly. Hot tears rolled through my hair. You were crying too.

"I love you, Bammie," I whispered. "Why...?"

"Because I'm afraid," you whispered, hiccuping slightly.

"Of what?" I asked, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes.

"Of a lot of things, babe," you replied, reaching a hand up to stroke my hair. "I just think it will save us a lot of pain if we stop now." You kissed me gently, sadly, then stood up, leaving me there to stare up at you helplessly.

"Bam, please--"

"Don't, Willa," you said quietly, walking to the door. "I'll never forget what we've had. I'm so sorry." You left, shutting the door with a soft click. I laid myself down on the floor, curled into a ball, and cried myself to sleep.


Goodbye, my almost lover.
Goodbye, my hopeless dream.
I'm trying not to think about you.
Why can't you just let me be?

So long my luckless romance.
My back is turned on you.
Should've known you'd bring me heartache.
Almost lovers always do.

---

There WAS a sequel, I deleted it because it was fucking pansy. If you want to see it, let me know. I don't recomend it though. Throws off teh groovez.

Title: Prayers
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam
Rating: G
Summary: "I never really believed in a God..."
Disclaimer: Now Bam's also living in the bathtub. It's getting slightly cramped. I own/know nothing and no one.
Authors Notes: LULZ, I should be doing my pre-algebra homework. Anyway I was tired and wrote this in my notebook late last night because my fingers had that tingly, "WRITE SOMETHING THIS INSTANT, MISS KITIARA!" feeling. This makes me wish I had my own Bam. I actually DO have a Bam, but... distance issues. D'=




I never really believed in a God. The thought of some great big guy with a long silver beard pulling our strings as though we were puppets never really caught on with me. It's not as though I thought there was nothing, but I needed to find this blessed divinity elsewhere.

Where that is, I doubt I'll ever know.

But I know there's something, someone, or several somethings or someones out there, listening, watching, and looking out for us. I know this because my most desperate prayers were answered, when all I did was shout them to the sky. I'd spent so much time feeling lonely and hopeless, dead and cold inside a shell that told only lies. I needed someone, anyone, to come save me.

You did. Out of the blue, you stepped into my life and gave me reasons to smile again. We're two people who shouldn't get along, but do. We're not meant to be in love, but we are. I love you Bam, more than you know.

I believe there's someone up there, out there, who cares, because they sent me you.

---

(I'm sorry it's so short. *hides*)

Title: Sorrows Undone
Author: breathe_misery</lj>.
Pairing: Vam.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ville shows up randomly at Bam's place and is in a terrible mood. Finding out why is a bitch.
Disclaimer: Ville has made a lovely home in my bathtub. I don't know or own anyone/anything in this story.
Authors Notes: Not as happy with this as I was with Five, Ten, Fifteen, Twenty. But I needed to get this written, because it was blocking my brain. Dedicated to the mental image of Ville shaking an empty cereal box and looking like a lost puppy, and to the Backstreet Boys without whom, for some reason, I have extreme difficulty writing.




I knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into my house. Besides the fact that he'd shown up completely unannounced (he always called a few days in advance, because, "If I'm anything, I'm polite."), looked like he hadn't slept in weeks and hadn't eaten in months, he just seemed broken in every sense of the word. I'm not the kind of person who picks up on emotions well, but the sadness that was radiating off of him was as obvious as the color of the sky. And it's not like I'd never seen him sad before, because hello, look who we're talking about. But this was different. This was deeper. This was something I wasn't sure I could make disappear with a joke or idiotic stunt. For once in my life, I didn't know how to make Ville Valo happy again.


"If you don't eat something, I'm calling Ape," I threatened, pushing a plate of stir-fry in front of him. "She doesn't know you're here yet, but if she finds out, she's going to come over here and fuss over you like nobody's business. You're the perfect son she never had."

"Does she think that?" Ville asked, picking at the vegetables. "That I'm perfect?"

"Compared to her own children, uh, yeah," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. "Please, man. Eat something. I don't feel like going to the emergency room right now, especially when it's not my fault."

"But the ER is your second home, surely you miss it?" Ville said dully, nibbling on a water chestnut.

"You depress me so fucking bad, you know that?" I groaned, tossing the dishtowel I'd been holding on the table. "I'm going to sit out on the deck. Wouldn't happen to have a lighter on you, would you?"

"For what?" he asked warily, raising an eyebrow at me.

"So I can light myself a few cigarettes?" I said with a sly smile. Ville rolled his eyes and threw the his lighter at me with a shrug.

"I want it back, and I refuse to take responsibility for any damage it may cause," he said simply.

"You don't have to worry about a thing," I assured him, turning around and making my way out back. Once I got out on the deck, I threw myself down in a chair and lit a cigarette, deciding that maybe Ville would feed himself if I wasn't staring at him the whole time. Or he'd just throw the food away. In any case, I knew that hovering over Ville was a good way to make the situation worse, not better. He always managed to right himself, in his own way and on his own time. But still, this time seemed different. There was an odd, unfamiliar tension in the air, one that wasn't unpleasant, but wasn't exactly welcome, either. I'd noticed it when Ville wouldn't even tell me why he'd come to see me. "Just because," he'd said. I knew it was a lie, and so did he. Shortly after that, he'd dodged further interrogation by slinking off to the guest bedroom. It wouldn't really have bothered me, but...


He forgot to give me my good night kiss.


"Can I join you?" Ville said, poking his head outside.

"Did you eat your dinner like a good little boy?" I asked cheekily. Ville snorted.

"Everything but the carrots," he said, stepping out onto the deck and pulling out a chair for himself. "You actually cook pretty well, considering that Ape has always cooked for you."

"Yeah, well," I grinned, blowing smoke at him, "When she and Phil moved out, I knew it was either, learn to cook, starve, or die from eating takeout. I like living, so I started watching the Food Network." Ville chuckled softly and shook his head, looking up at the sunset painted sky. He seemed to drift off for a moment, lost in his thoughts. He began drumming his fingers on the table in front of him, and that's when I noticed--

"Why aren't you smoking?" I demanded. He laughed quietly again.

"What a kind friend you are, wanting me to smoke," he teased. "I don't know. I just haven't felt like it lately. Maybe I've grown out of it or something."

"That's not possible," I said, a horrified look on my face. "You're sick, dude. You need medical attention. Ville Valo does not grow out of cigarettes."

"Apparently he does," Ville yawned, stretching his long arms above his head. "You have to admit, it's better for me."

"Yes, but--"

"Hey, I think I'll go to bed early," he interrupted, standing up and taking his lighter from where I'd placed it on the table. "Thanks for feeding me. I feel a little better." He turned to go inside, but I quickly grabbed his wrist.

"Where's my good night kiss?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "And where was last night's?" Ville sighed and gave me a weary look.

"Never satisfied, are you Bammie?" he whispered, leaning in and kissing me twice on the cheek. "Happy now?"

"Yeah," I said softly, comforted immensely by the use of the nickname. "Night, Willa."

"Good night, Bam," Ville yawned, ruffling my hair before going back inside, closing the sliding glass door gently behind him.


I chose to ignore the sound of him crying that night. I had to have been imagining it, dreaming it, something. But I couldn't ignore the fact that when I woke up at about three in the morning, he was curled up next to me in my bed. That hadn't been a dream. But like one, he was gone when morning came.


"Is there a reason you keep an empty Cheerios box in your pantry, Bam?" Ville demanded, shaking the box to demonstrate how empty it was.

"To trick people like you," I replied, pouring myself some coffee. "Um, I have a question."

"Fire away."

"What was wrong last night?"

"Nothing was wrong," Ville said, looking at me like I had three heads. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought I heard you crying," I said sheepishly. "And you came into my room and slept."

"What vivid dreams you have, Bam," Ville said with a grin. "I was fine last night, and I slept in my own bed."

"Mmkay," I said, sitting down at the table. I knew he was lying about where he'd slept, at least. The pillows and blankets still smelled like him, even though he'd abandoned them early in the morning.

"So... you have no Cheerios?" Ville pouted, shaking the box again dejectedly. I snorted.

"No, no Cheerios."

"You have no soul."


I watched him carefully all day, taking note of everything that was odd about him. Number one was the obvious lack of cigarettes. Number two was how quiet he was. Number three was the way he kept side-stepping my questions about why he was even in West Chester.


"Did you kill someone? Are you on the run?"

"NO, BAM!" Ville shouted. He was laughing though, a good sign. "I am considering it now though!"

"Oh really?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"

"Maybe," Ville said mysteriously, looking sideways at me. Suddenly, he was on top of me, having leapt from his chair to the couch in three seconds flat. He jokingly grabbed my throat and shook me from side to side, giggling the entire time. I flailed dramatically, making the appropriate choking noises, before going completely limp and sticking my tongue out. Ville snickered and let go of my neck, sitting down on my hips.

"Does this mean I get the house?" he asked, poking me in the ribs. I opened my eyes and shrugged.

"I don't know, I haven't made my will yet."

"You, of all people, should have your will done already," Ville said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You are a hazard, after all."

"Do you have yours done?" I asked, drawing shapes on his thigh with my fingers.

"Yeah, but I have to change it every six months," Ville said, watching my invisible drawing. "You know, writing out the people who piss me off and such."

"Am I on there?" I asked teasingly. Ville's face turned serious.

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "You actually... get most of my stuff."

"Why?" I said, propping myself up on my elbows. "What about your family?"

"That bunch of pack rats?" Ville scoffed. "What do they need with my junk? Nah... I left them money. They'll be fine. That is, if I drop dead anytime soon, which I don't exactly plan on doing."

"Ville, answer my original question," I whined, slapping his leg. "What are you doing here?" Ville groaned and rubbed his face vigorously before looking at me defeatedly.

"Can't a man just come see his best friend?"

"Not looking like as much of a wreck as you did when you walked in that door," I said firmly. "Ville, please stop lying to me. Why are you here?"

"Because I missed you, Bam," he said quietly, petting my hair gently. "I needed to hear your voice and see you again. Okay?"

"Okay," I murmered, deciding not to push the issue further for the moment. This was the most he'd said about it the whole time he'd been with me. "Thanks for actually answering me for once."

"You're very welcome, darling."


He was getting better, but I knew he was still hiding something. And whatever it was, it was eating away at him at every moment. He'd just sit for long periods in complete silence, not doing anything, just staring off into space. I told him that if he thought to much more, his head was going to explode. He told me to mind my own beeswax, which was funny to hear him say. I teased him for hours, and told him I was going to call him "Beeswax" from now on. He just smiled and said, "That's actually kind of adorable."


It wasn't much, but it was something.


That night, it was my turn to go to bed early. I had only been under the covers for ten minutes when there was a knock at my door, followed by the creak of it opening enough for Ville to peer in.

"Are you asleep?" he whispered. I decided to pretend to be, just to see what would happen. When I didn't answer, Ville opened the door the rest of the way and came in, shutting the door behind him. My back was to him, but I heard him move across the room and crawl gingerly onto the bed. He sat up near the headboard, and I felt his thin fingers stroke my arm after a few quiet moments. I tried to suppress a shiver, knowing that if I didn't, he'd realize I was awake. It took several minutes, but I eventually relaxed into his touch, which had moved upwards to my hair. He sighed quietly, gently twisting a curl around his finger, and once again, I could feel the sadness emanating from him. I suddenly wanted to "wake up" and roll over to look at him, to ask him if he was okay. Something I'd been asking far too much. But just as I was about to move, Ville leaned in close to my ear.

"Bam, I know you're upset with me for not talking to you," he whispered, his hot breath tickling my face, smelling like peppermint candies. "I know you want me to tell you what's really wrong, but I just can't. We're too close as friends for me to jeopardize it over something as silly as a few silly thoughts I tend to have..." He sighed again, resting his chin lightly on my shoulder. "I love you, Bammie. I love you so much, and I'm really sorry." He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, then got up and went out into the hall, the door shutting with a click behind him. I sat up quickly as his footsteps faded away, my heart in my throat, still not sure that what had happened had not been a dream. I got out of bed and raced out of my room and down the stairs, before slowing when I saw the door to the deck open. I crept over and peeked outside, and smiled slightly at what I saw.


Ville was sitting in the pouring rain underneath the oversized table umbrella, a cigarette between his fingers, exhaling smoke into the drenched air.


"I love you, Willa," I said without thinking, my eyes widening as the words left my lips. He turned around and looked at me, eyebrows raised.

"You... what?"

"I-- I love you," I repeated, feeling like a complete douche. "Don't make me say it again, hey? You know how I feel about the L word."

"I thought you said it was kind of hot?" Ville smirked.

"The other L word, loser," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Loser?"

"VILLE!" He snickered at me, shaking his head and motioning for me to come sit with him. I sprinted across the deck to avoid getting soaked and threw myself down in the chair next to his. I pulled my legs up onto the chair to sit indian-style, staring at the table, feeling very awkward and embarrassed.

"You were awake, weren't you?" he asked softly, sucking more smoke into his lungs. I nodded silently, wishing he would look somewhere other than my face. His eyes were practically burning into my skin.

"Did you expect anything less, though?" I sighed, glancing sideways at him. "I figured it was the only way I'd be able to get decent information out of you."

"And do you think you did?" Ville yawned, looking at me curiously.

"I guess, a little," I shrugged. "You love me more than you let on, and you're afraid it will fuck up our friendship."

"That's about right," Ville said with a brief nod.

"That's so unoriginal," I scoffed. "Ville, there is no ruining our friendship. We're not ten, you know."

"I sometimes wonder about you..."

"Would you shut up?" I laughed, slapping his arm gently. He giggled stupidly for a moment, before simply smiling contentedly at me.

"So we're... all right?" he asked hopefully. I rolled my eyes.

"Ville Valo, do you know how hard it would be to make us not all right?" I demanded, pulling his stupid purple hat off of his head and jamming it onto mine. "You'd have to like... kill me or something. Then we'd totally not be okay. I'd haunt you and shit."

"You haunt me already," Ville said dramatically.

"Oh, how stereotypically Valo of you," I teased, my hand finding his without my permission. I looked from our entwined fingers to his face, which was still sporting that almost stupid serene expression. I was about to tell him that if anyone else were to see him like that, they'd think he was kind of special, but he stopped me by giving me a quick kiss on the lips. He pulled back blushing, something I was able to see, even in the dark. It was kind of adorable.

"This is the best I've felt in months," he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. "Thanks, Bammie."

"Shouldn't some cheesy, romantic music be playing right now?"

"Oooooh, I'm in the mood for some Backstreet Boys..."

"Because that didn't sound filthy at all."

"Bam."

"You want it thaaaaaat waaaaay!"