One Shot
Title: Bam for President
Author: Casket
Rating: PG-13, for light cursing
Summary: Wouldn't want to give too much away, would I? Though I blame my best friend, Courtney for giving me this idea.
Bam for President
Posters, flyers, and stickers littered the streets as I walked down them, all with my face on it. BAM FOR PRESIDENT, they all read. It seemed to be an epidemic, they were all hoping, wishing, waiting for it to happen. All because of a forged letter supposedly signed by myself floating around the Internet. Like I would actually care to become president.
Of course, there were the rumours too. I read them all one day, since someone had posted a link to their website devoted to rumours about Ville and me on my forum. Basically they were all rubbish about me running for president, though one caught my eye when I was skimming. When Bam becomes president, his first lady would be not Jenn, not Missy, but the Finnish singer that he has been obsessing over since May 2000 named Ville Valo. Of course, when I had posted all those rumours debunked, that one stayed in my head, nestled safely in my brain.
Of course, everyone knew that I wasn’t together with Ville. They all knew I was getting married to Missy in February. But as I walked, kicking the papers that had my face on it, I began to wonder if it had somehow gotten out, if my real life had somehow been poured into the Internet. But how?
Our love was pure. It was as pure as fresh fallen snow on Christmas day that no one has yet to touch. But it was forbidden, especially in the show business. I mean, look at Lance Bass. Being gay just isn’t in a star’s contract, so therefore it’s not allowed.
I loved him. He loved me. Wasn’t that all we needed? But of course, that wasn’t good enough for him. And once he had grabbed onto that rumour, he had to have his way. "Let’s come out, Bammie. It’ll be fine. Can’t we?" Sure we could, Ville. And the whole world would see us as freak shows, gay fags, fucking weirdos. The reputation I had so precariously built up would be blown to smithereens if I did such a thing.
Did it matter what I thought, though? No, Ville, it doesn’t seem like it. It’s all about what you want. What you care about.
We’re in love, right? Love takes two people, and I feel rather one-sided. And as I walk alone, on this street filled with my face, I begin to wonder if this was what I wanted. What I needed. My wants. My needs.
I heard footsteps, and instantly I looked down, hoping I wouldn’t get recognized, but no, a random person brushed lightly up against me before walking on, half jogging. Just like everyone else in the world.
Finally, I made it to my sparkly purple lamborghini, and I just sat in it, staring forward, deep in thought. And to think, it all started with this stupid president thing...if that stupid asshole hadn’t written anything he’d still care and I’d wouldn’t feel so pushed away. Thought most of all, I would still be in love.
Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths to keep tears from falling down my face. Once I opened them again, I immediately started the car up, and pulled away from the street, and starting back to Castle Bam. I pressed the play button, and of course the most ironic song plays. ‘Pretending’, by HIM.
So keep on pretending... Sure Ville. Whatever you like.
Bam for fucking president.
A/N: Hope you all like. Leave comments, please?
Author: Casket
Rating: PG-13, for light cursing
Summary: Wouldn't want to give too much away, would I? Though I blame my best friend, Courtney for giving me this idea.
Bam for President
Posters, flyers, and stickers littered the streets as I walked down them, all with my face on it. BAM FOR PRESIDENT, they all read. It seemed to be an epidemic, they were all hoping, wishing, waiting for it to happen. All because of a forged letter supposedly signed by myself floating around the Internet. Like I would actually care to become president.
Of course, there were the rumours too. I read them all one day, since someone had posted a link to their website devoted to rumours about Ville and me on my forum. Basically they were all rubbish about me running for president, though one caught my eye when I was skimming. When Bam becomes president, his first lady would be not Jenn, not Missy, but the Finnish singer that he has been obsessing over since May 2000 named Ville Valo. Of course, when I had posted all those rumours debunked, that one stayed in my head, nestled safely in my brain.
Of course, everyone knew that I wasn’t together with Ville. They all knew I was getting married to Missy in February. But as I walked, kicking the papers that had my face on it, I began to wonder if it had somehow gotten out, if my real life had somehow been poured into the Internet. But how?
Our love was pure. It was as pure as fresh fallen snow on Christmas day that no one has yet to touch. But it was forbidden, especially in the show business. I mean, look at Lance Bass. Being gay just isn’t in a star’s contract, so therefore it’s not allowed.
I loved him. He loved me. Wasn’t that all we needed? But of course, that wasn’t good enough for him. And once he had grabbed onto that rumour, he had to have his way. "Let’s come out, Bammie. It’ll be fine. Can’t we?" Sure we could, Ville. And the whole world would see us as freak shows, gay fags, fucking weirdos. The reputation I had so precariously built up would be blown to smithereens if I did such a thing.
Did it matter what I thought, though? No, Ville, it doesn’t seem like it. It’s all about what you want. What you care about.
We’re in love, right? Love takes two people, and I feel rather one-sided. And as I walk alone, on this street filled with my face, I begin to wonder if this was what I wanted. What I needed. My wants. My needs.
I heard footsteps, and instantly I looked down, hoping I wouldn’t get recognized, but no, a random person brushed lightly up against me before walking on, half jogging. Just like everyone else in the world.
Finally, I made it to my sparkly purple lamborghini, and I just sat in it, staring forward, deep in thought. And to think, it all started with this stupid president thing...if that stupid asshole hadn’t written anything he’d still care and I’d wouldn’t feel so pushed away. Thought most of all, I would still be in love.
Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths to keep tears from falling down my face. Once I opened them again, I immediately started the car up, and pulled away from the street, and starting back to Castle Bam. I pressed the play button, and of course the most ironic song plays. ‘Pretending’, by HIM.
So keep on pretending... Sure Ville. Whatever you like.
Bam for fucking president.
A/N: Hope you all like. Leave comments, please?