Letters
Title: Letters.
Chapters: 2/?.
Author: crimsonyght666
Pairing: Ville/Bam.
Rating: PG-13 to R
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Never happened.
Summary: Secrets were a game; they kept you guessing at what was reality, and what was fantasy. They hid behind death, living a lost life.
Chapters:
Chapter One- Two hearts beat as one, creating music gods lusted over, and demons shied from.
Chapter Two
Waking up, I expected a warm body and a good morning kiss- but received none. It was the same every morning. All I would find, in the end, was nothing. I lay in bed for a few moments longer, before getting up and practically dragging myself to the bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, I noticed that I could now see my ribs, and the lack of nutrition showed.
I let out a sigh, stripping myself of my dirty clothes, and turned the warm tap on in the shower. I honestly don’t know why I bother to take care of myself anymore, it’s not like I have a reason every time I wake up… nor a reason for every time I breathe, a reason to live…. Stepping in, I let the spray hit my sore body, the water some-what relaxing. It was good to have for when I got horrible hangovers, it helped clear my head a bit.
I let myself stand there for a while, until I felt the water grow cold, and the pads of my fingers go all wrinkly. Sighing, I turned off the tap, and let myself drip dry for a while, just thinking, thinking about nothing. How could you do that? Think of things that go nowhere, lead you into a loop, or just… wait till ‘nothing’ has lost all meaning.
Stepping out, I still felt dirty, whether it was physically or not. The towel hung simply and snug around my hips, soaking all the dripping water form my torso. “I miss him so much.” I said to the wall, if anyone walked in, they would probably think I was crazy, if not already. I couldn’t deny that I did, no matter how much I wanted to. How much I hated him for leaving. There was a purpose, there had to be. And I was determined to find out.
Heading back into my room, I stopped short, remembering the slim box Ape had dropped by last night. Picking it up, I saw that it was wrapped in old parchment paper, again, no return address, and this time, no name. Just mine. Opening it carefully, I placed the top down and pulled back the thin sheet of tissue paper, and saw a rose. Black and withered, it’s petals lay scattered where the head should have been, and a note was tied carefully around the middle of the stem. A purple satin ribbon the only connection between the two.
Bam,
We are all notorious strangers, living under one roof. Don’t think I’m the only one missing.
Just as it was short, there was no name at the bottom as the previous letter. Only the recognizable handwriting, and a picture, of what looked like to be a carving in a tree… Nothing made sense, and maybe someone was screwing with my mind. Shaking my head, I placed the items on my desk and turned around the room searching for clean clothes.
And you’re lips once tasted like wine. I whispered that to him, the day of the funeral. I was speaking to an empty grave. How can you bury someone, when the body is missing? How can you speak of the deceased when they were not present? How can you talk about them, as if you knew them, right when their corpse is sitting off to the side, or like in Ville’s case, was missing? You can’t pronounce the missing dead. It’s not possible. You need proof, and they couldn’t find it. All the proof they had was of an Arsenic attack, which happened to be the singers Apartment.
His soul was still out there, it hadn’t been percolated through judgement. They say there is a connection with you and your lover. And I believed that. If he truly was dead, I would be dead to. I would know, and right now, I was getting a crossroad of mixed messages that he was dead but stuck. He was alive, but not amongst the living. So where…?
Snatching up a pair of clothes I declared clean, I shoved them on and start pacing my room, the note and picture now in hand. It meant something, and I had to figure the puzzle out. Before it was too late. I was decimated; my body lay scattered amongst millions. Shards of glass held some, while my heart still lay beating, in the hands of a masochist. It was not healthy to feel so even I knew that. But I couldn’t help it, and neither was I going to try anytime soon. Just then the phone rang, scaring the shit out of me. I hardly got calls anymore.
“…Hello…?” I was hesitant, and felt sick to my stomach. I wanted nothing more than to heave my guts out right on the floor.
“Brandon?” a voice managed through the static.
“How did you get my home number?” I demanded, panic.
“Now, don’t rush. Go to your front door.” And with that, I heard the signal that he/she had hung up, my ear only meeting an endless siren.
Wide eyed, I rushed out my room, looking through one of the windows; I saw the side of a dark, tall figure, but nothing else. Cautiously, I headed down the stairs, taking light steps, as if making a noise we be the end of us all. I knew I was over-exagerating, but you couldn’t help but feel suspicious. “Who’s there?” I called out, placing a shaking hand on the panel of the front door.
There was a knock, then followed by another. I placed a clammy hand on the doorknob gently unlocking it I turned it, ever so slowly. Afraid of what was on the other side. What was there shocked me beyond all belief. I might as well have seen a ghost, or have someone place a gun to the temple of my forehead, with me calling it quits.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It wasn’t supposed to be. There was a disturbance in the balance, and it created chaos. And with chaos came destruction. With destruction came downfall, eventually we are led to the end- only to be reborn and begin everything all over again to forget what was previous before. Things weren’t supposed to happen this way. The pendulum can’t stop swinging, just for one being, and the devil can’t unleash from his chains. What was this monster?
And in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to rip his eyes out, drag the feverous blade across the soft flesh, and maul his perfectly sculpted face. This, thing wasn’t him. An impostor, but how can I believe that when I couldn’t believe myself? Only one word was uttered from my lips, one word that I hadn’t said in so long. Only dreamt, and thought of. The one word that symbolized the being that was to be him, the one being that was supposed to be dead.
“Ville.” In that instant, I knew time bent backwards, that the last three months were never real. That maybe…. Maybe none of this ever happened, and I had gone mentally unstable. What happened shouldn’t have. That I can say. But what should have been should have happened, and it didn’t. Things went un-according to plan. Had I been living a dream for most of my life? Am I really… alive? Was life a lie, and just full of haphazard events?
I felt the world spinning. Or was it I? I couldn’t tell, and the look of confusion on the man's face before me, sent me revolting, and I collapsed to the ground. I heaved, I knew I had, because my throat was burning like no other, and my insides felt as if they were on fire. What little I had in there, was now gone, and firm but gentle hands stroked my back. Hands that were, unfamiliar- Hands that were not his. He had the same eyes, the same lips the same legs. But was his heart the same? This man appeared to be taller, his hair was a few shades darker, and his body seemed to be… emaciated?
There was a list of endless questions. I was letting death into the house- Welcomed with open arms and leaving a sick man to decay. He had a flair for making a dramatic entrance, and I had an adroit closure- for almost everything. He breathed the word, to the question, ‘why?’ How was I supposed to know?
The dead can’t walk. The dead can’t talk, they can’t sing, they can’t dance, they can’t write- because they’re dead. That was the point, wasn’t it? How can he be crouched before me, comforting me, as I dry-heaved, my head throbbing, and my jaw muscles felt as if someone punched them one to many times. Was it because, I really want him dead?
I let out an insane laughter before crashing to my side, bringing down this stranger with me, emitting a surprised yelp from his pretty lips; Lips that were not his.
The last night, was a seldom fire. I shun the day you turned your heartbeat away.
~~~
Sorry for the shortness.... I'll try to make updates longer.
Con. Crit...?
Continue?
Chapters: 2/?.
Author: crimsonyght666
Pairing: Ville/Bam.
Rating: PG-13 to R
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Never happened.
Summary: Secrets were a game; they kept you guessing at what was reality, and what was fantasy. They hid behind death, living a lost life.
Chapters:
Chapter One- Two hearts beat as one, creating music gods lusted over, and demons shied from.
Chapter Two
Waking up, I expected a warm body and a good morning kiss- but received none. It was the same every morning. All I would find, in the end, was nothing. I lay in bed for a few moments longer, before getting up and practically dragging myself to the bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, I noticed that I could now see my ribs, and the lack of nutrition showed.
I let out a sigh, stripping myself of my dirty clothes, and turned the warm tap on in the shower. I honestly don’t know why I bother to take care of myself anymore, it’s not like I have a reason every time I wake up… nor a reason for every time I breathe, a reason to live…. Stepping in, I let the spray hit my sore body, the water some-what relaxing. It was good to have for when I got horrible hangovers, it helped clear my head a bit.
I let myself stand there for a while, until I felt the water grow cold, and the pads of my fingers go all wrinkly. Sighing, I turned off the tap, and let myself drip dry for a while, just thinking, thinking about nothing. How could you do that? Think of things that go nowhere, lead you into a loop, or just… wait till ‘nothing’ has lost all meaning.
Stepping out, I still felt dirty, whether it was physically or not. The towel hung simply and snug around my hips, soaking all the dripping water form my torso. “I miss him so much.” I said to the wall, if anyone walked in, they would probably think I was crazy, if not already. I couldn’t deny that I did, no matter how much I wanted to. How much I hated him for leaving. There was a purpose, there had to be. And I was determined to find out.
Heading back into my room, I stopped short, remembering the slim box Ape had dropped by last night. Picking it up, I saw that it was wrapped in old parchment paper, again, no return address, and this time, no name. Just mine. Opening it carefully, I placed the top down and pulled back the thin sheet of tissue paper, and saw a rose. Black and withered, it’s petals lay scattered where the head should have been, and a note was tied carefully around the middle of the stem. A purple satin ribbon the only connection between the two.
Bam,
We are all notorious strangers, living under one roof. Don’t think I’m the only one missing.
Just as it was short, there was no name at the bottom as the previous letter. Only the recognizable handwriting, and a picture, of what looked like to be a carving in a tree… Nothing made sense, and maybe someone was screwing with my mind. Shaking my head, I placed the items on my desk and turned around the room searching for clean clothes.
And you’re lips once tasted like wine. I whispered that to him, the day of the funeral. I was speaking to an empty grave. How can you bury someone, when the body is missing? How can you speak of the deceased when they were not present? How can you talk about them, as if you knew them, right when their corpse is sitting off to the side, or like in Ville’s case, was missing? You can’t pronounce the missing dead. It’s not possible. You need proof, and they couldn’t find it. All the proof they had was of an Arsenic attack, which happened to be the singers Apartment.
His soul was still out there, it hadn’t been percolated through judgement. They say there is a connection with you and your lover. And I believed that. If he truly was dead, I would be dead to. I would know, and right now, I was getting a crossroad of mixed messages that he was dead but stuck. He was alive, but not amongst the living. So where…?
Snatching up a pair of clothes I declared clean, I shoved them on and start pacing my room, the note and picture now in hand. It meant something, and I had to figure the puzzle out. Before it was too late. I was decimated; my body lay scattered amongst millions. Shards of glass held some, while my heart still lay beating, in the hands of a masochist. It was not healthy to feel so even I knew that. But I couldn’t help it, and neither was I going to try anytime soon. Just then the phone rang, scaring the shit out of me. I hardly got calls anymore.
“…Hello…?” I was hesitant, and felt sick to my stomach. I wanted nothing more than to heave my guts out right on the floor.
“Brandon?” a voice managed through the static.
“How did you get my home number?” I demanded, panic.
“Now, don’t rush. Go to your front door.” And with that, I heard the signal that he/she had hung up, my ear only meeting an endless siren.
Wide eyed, I rushed out my room, looking through one of the windows; I saw the side of a dark, tall figure, but nothing else. Cautiously, I headed down the stairs, taking light steps, as if making a noise we be the end of us all. I knew I was over-exagerating, but you couldn’t help but feel suspicious. “Who’s there?” I called out, placing a shaking hand on the panel of the front door.
There was a knock, then followed by another. I placed a clammy hand on the doorknob gently unlocking it I turned it, ever so slowly. Afraid of what was on the other side. What was there shocked me beyond all belief. I might as well have seen a ghost, or have someone place a gun to the temple of my forehead, with me calling it quits.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It wasn’t supposed to be. There was a disturbance in the balance, and it created chaos. And with chaos came destruction. With destruction came downfall, eventually we are led to the end- only to be reborn and begin everything all over again to forget what was previous before. Things weren’t supposed to happen this way. The pendulum can’t stop swinging, just for one being, and the devil can’t unleash from his chains. What was this monster?
And in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to rip his eyes out, drag the feverous blade across the soft flesh, and maul his perfectly sculpted face. This, thing wasn’t him. An impostor, but how can I believe that when I couldn’t believe myself? Only one word was uttered from my lips, one word that I hadn’t said in so long. Only dreamt, and thought of. The one word that symbolized the being that was to be him, the one being that was supposed to be dead.
“Ville.” In that instant, I knew time bent backwards, that the last three months were never real. That maybe…. Maybe none of this ever happened, and I had gone mentally unstable. What happened shouldn’t have. That I can say. But what should have been should have happened, and it didn’t. Things went un-according to plan. Had I been living a dream for most of my life? Am I really… alive? Was life a lie, and just full of haphazard events?
I felt the world spinning. Or was it I? I couldn’t tell, and the look of confusion on the man's face before me, sent me revolting, and I collapsed to the ground. I heaved, I knew I had, because my throat was burning like no other, and my insides felt as if they were on fire. What little I had in there, was now gone, and firm but gentle hands stroked my back. Hands that were, unfamiliar- Hands that were not his. He had the same eyes, the same lips the same legs. But was his heart the same? This man appeared to be taller, his hair was a few shades darker, and his body seemed to be… emaciated?
There was a list of endless questions. I was letting death into the house- Welcomed with open arms and leaving a sick man to decay. He had a flair for making a dramatic entrance, and I had an adroit closure- for almost everything. He breathed the word, to the question, ‘why?’ How was I supposed to know?
The dead can’t walk. The dead can’t talk, they can’t sing, they can’t dance, they can’t write- because they’re dead. That was the point, wasn’t it? How can he be crouched before me, comforting me, as I dry-heaved, my head throbbing, and my jaw muscles felt as if someone punched them one to many times. Was it because, I really want him dead?
I let out an insane laughter before crashing to my side, bringing down this stranger with me, emitting a surprised yelp from his pretty lips; Lips that were not his.
The last night, was a seldom fire. I shun the day you turned your heartbeat away.
~~~
Sorry for the shortness.... I'll try to make updates longer.
Con. Crit...?
Continue?