There might've been a time when I would let you slip away...
It’s stunningly rare for Adam to get any time at all with his amazing songwriters, much less a whole lunch, but today he’s got Pink front and center. Miss Alecia’s sitting in front of him at a table in this hole-in-the-wall café he found on Sunset, in too-tight purple jeans, a too-loose gray shirt, and a too-short maroon leather jacket, her blond hair sharply spiked and absolutely impeccable, styled in a way he’d like to achieve someday (and has been working for for years).
So naturally he’s confused when somebody finds them, knows they’re together, and seems to have been searching for them all over the place just to do so.
Naturally he’s even more shocked that that person happens to be Bam Margera, looking like he’s been tossed out of bed in fitting, faded jeans, a loose and worn tee showcasing one of his many projects, and his signature sunglasses and Adios, but still with that touch of too much attention that sets off Adam’s gaydar.
As if that isn’t enough of a stunner, Bam actually speaks to them, and not just one of them (‘cause Adam’s heard Alecia knows him, grew up together or something). He addresses both of them with a desperate look in his eyes, blue eyes Adam wants to write about just looking at them. They’re a color you can’t create, a color harder to describe than the ever changing ocean, and they’re pleading and grateful at the same time as he blurts,
“Thank you, man.”
Adam’s mouth opens, and he can feel the makeup on his skin stretching in tandem with watching the same thing on Pink’s face, both of them puzzled and shocked. He watches her tap Bam’s hand and ask,
“For what, dude?”
Bam looks thrown when they try to ask him to describe it, and Adam’s fascinated by the way he glances at the door, as if waiting for some kind of salvation he’s called on, a ‘calvary’ that’s arriving too late to help. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, his hand clenching where it’s set itself on the table.
“For the song you wrote,” and Adam looks up from those convulsive fingers, less tan than his own, just in time to get smacked full on in the face by the impact of those eyes, as he whispers, “the song you sang so perfect and fucking…just good. It got to me, dude, and I respect you for that.”
Adam looks Bam up and down and marvels at the fact that he’s gotten enough of a base that this guy, who probably only hears of American Idol from his smitten fangirls, listens to his music and gets it; but then, he knows what song Bam’s speaking about, and that makes it easier to understand.
Breaking a barrier he hopes he won’t get his face broken over, he reaches a hand up to clap Bam on the shoulder and nods.
“No problem, Bam.”
He hears Alecia comment herself, but his attention gets drawn away from the answer Bam gives, as a man Adam both respects and detests walks in. Ville Valo fills the doorway with effortless charisma, and as if Bam’s eyes are pulled by some kind of gravitational force like those of almost every other patron, he looks at Ville in awe.
Adam detests that no matter how he tries, he still has to work at the smooth, attention-grabbing charm Ville seems to exude in whatever he does, but he respects Ville’s tastes and his take on the music industry. Even if he thinks Ville’s songs are kind of depressing.
It’s interesting, though, how Bam reacts. He’d heard they were friends, from some tabloid or other, but the currents going between those two are ramping up his gaydar in a serious way. Their eyes never leave a piece of each other, even when Bam pays attention to Pink again.
He looks at his lover just the same way when he’s that far from him, in a way that is both possessive and protective. The eyes that say ‘if you hurt him, I’ll hurt you, but if you take him from me, I’ll kill you’.
Of course. He led them together.
His music has a power he’d never even considered.
When their arms link around each other after Bam has finally bowed and left, it’s clear. Bam’s eyes lift to Ville’s jaw and he watches him swallow and then glide that bit closer, and Adam smiles at what he helped to create.
***
Bam grins as Ville nips at the edge of his ear and asks, “What was that all about, love?”
He throws his gaze back toward the café they’ve just come out of and remembers the understanding in eyes lined darker than Ville’s, the sweet finally written across a pale face chalked with purple eye stuff and bright pink lipstick. A smile comes unbidden to his lips, as he imagines what they made together--the girl who’s known him forever and a man he’d never hoped to meet.
“Yeah, there might have been a time when I would let you slip away…
I wouldn’t even try…
But I think you could save my life…”
He hums the chorus of the song that saved his and lifts his head to lick Ville’s ear in retaliation, remembering a shocked, sober grunt and then spindly arms swiftly wrapping around his back, a whimpered declaration when he gave his all, words that changed everything for them.
For the better, Bam’s pretty sure.
“Yeah, it’s plain to see…
That baby, you’re beautiful…
And there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“That’s for me to know and you never to find out,” he growls cheekily, and Ville owns another part of him, just that simple, when he laughs softly and shrugs, nuzzling his cheek and tugging him toward the rental sitting in the parking lot of the restaurant down the street.
“I’ll get it out of you someday, BamBam, you know it.”
And looking at Ville, seeing the feeling he’s begged for for years without even knowing it finally reflecting there, he doesn’t think, he knows. This is as good as he could possibly have it, and he couldn’t have anybody better than who he does.
“It’s me…
I’m a freak…
But thanks for loving me…
‘Cause you’re doing it perfectly.”
***
So that's the end of it...
I know -- it's a new perspective. But I thought it needed to be said.
Plus...let's be honest. I'm a little obsessed with that song. ;)
(Not as obsessed as I am with comments though, hehe.)
Loved it? Hated it? Write it!
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So naturally he’s confused when somebody finds them, knows they’re together, and seems to have been searching for them all over the place just to do so.
Naturally he’s even more shocked that that person happens to be Bam Margera, looking like he’s been tossed out of bed in fitting, faded jeans, a loose and worn tee showcasing one of his many projects, and his signature sunglasses and Adios, but still with that touch of too much attention that sets off Adam’s gaydar.
As if that isn’t enough of a stunner, Bam actually speaks to them, and not just one of them (‘cause Adam’s heard Alecia knows him, grew up together or something). He addresses both of them with a desperate look in his eyes, blue eyes Adam wants to write about just looking at them. They’re a color you can’t create, a color harder to describe than the ever changing ocean, and they’re pleading and grateful at the same time as he blurts,
“Thank you, man.”
Adam’s mouth opens, and he can feel the makeup on his skin stretching in tandem with watching the same thing on Pink’s face, both of them puzzled and shocked. He watches her tap Bam’s hand and ask,
“For what, dude?”
Bam looks thrown when they try to ask him to describe it, and Adam’s fascinated by the way he glances at the door, as if waiting for some kind of salvation he’s called on, a ‘calvary’ that’s arriving too late to help. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, his hand clenching where it’s set itself on the table.
“For the song you wrote,” and Adam looks up from those convulsive fingers, less tan than his own, just in time to get smacked full on in the face by the impact of those eyes, as he whispers, “the song you sang so perfect and fucking…just good. It got to me, dude, and I respect you for that.”
Adam looks Bam up and down and marvels at the fact that he’s gotten enough of a base that this guy, who probably only hears of American Idol from his smitten fangirls, listens to his music and gets it; but then, he knows what song Bam’s speaking about, and that makes it easier to understand.
Breaking a barrier he hopes he won’t get his face broken over, he reaches a hand up to clap Bam on the shoulder and nods.
“No problem, Bam.”
He hears Alecia comment herself, but his attention gets drawn away from the answer Bam gives, as a man Adam both respects and detests walks in. Ville Valo fills the doorway with effortless charisma, and as if Bam’s eyes are pulled by some kind of gravitational force like those of almost every other patron, he looks at Ville in awe.
Adam detests that no matter how he tries, he still has to work at the smooth, attention-grabbing charm Ville seems to exude in whatever he does, but he respects Ville’s tastes and his take on the music industry. Even if he thinks Ville’s songs are kind of depressing.
It’s interesting, though, how Bam reacts. He’d heard they were friends, from some tabloid or other, but the currents going between those two are ramping up his gaydar in a serious way. Their eyes never leave a piece of each other, even when Bam pays attention to Pink again.
He looks at his lover just the same way when he’s that far from him, in a way that is both possessive and protective. The eyes that say ‘if you hurt him, I’ll hurt you, but if you take him from me, I’ll kill you’.
Of course. He led them together.
His music has a power he’d never even considered.
When their arms link around each other after Bam has finally bowed and left, it’s clear. Bam’s eyes lift to Ville’s jaw and he watches him swallow and then glide that bit closer, and Adam smiles at what he helped to create.
***
Bam grins as Ville nips at the edge of his ear and asks, “What was that all about, love?”
He throws his gaze back toward the café they’ve just come out of and remembers the understanding in eyes lined darker than Ville’s, the sweet finally written across a pale face chalked with purple eye stuff and bright pink lipstick. A smile comes unbidden to his lips, as he imagines what they made together--the girl who’s known him forever and a man he’d never hoped to meet.
“Yeah, there might have been a time when I would let you slip away…
I wouldn’t even try…
But I think you could save my life…”
He hums the chorus of the song that saved his and lifts his head to lick Ville’s ear in retaliation, remembering a shocked, sober grunt and then spindly arms swiftly wrapping around his back, a whimpered declaration when he gave his all, words that changed everything for them.
For the better, Bam’s pretty sure.
“Yeah, it’s plain to see…
That baby, you’re beautiful…
And there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“That’s for me to know and you never to find out,” he growls cheekily, and Ville owns another part of him, just that simple, when he laughs softly and shrugs, nuzzling his cheek and tugging him toward the rental sitting in the parking lot of the restaurant down the street.
“I’ll get it out of you someday, BamBam, you know it.”
And looking at Ville, seeing the feeling he’s begged for for years without even knowing it finally reflecting there, he doesn’t think, he knows. This is as good as he could possibly have it, and he couldn’t have anybody better than who he does.
“It’s me…
I’m a freak…
But thanks for loving me…
‘Cause you’re doing it perfectly.”
***
So that's the end of it...
I know -- it's a new perspective. But I thought it needed to be said.
Plus...let's be honest. I'm a little obsessed with that song. ;)
(Not as obsessed as I am with comments though, hehe.)
Loved it? Hated it? Write it!
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