Morning Fog (prologue)

[draculaaah]

Title: Morning Fog
Pairing: Ville/Bam
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After suffering from a brief psychotic episode, Ville is released from the hospital and put into Bam's care.
Disclaimer: This did not really happen. I don't own anyone in the story. This is purely for fun.
A/N: This is a story that I will actually continue this time. I took a long break from writing and had a few trips back and forth between the mental hospital and my house. I felt I was in a good position to write this story to sort of vent my feelings in a creative way. Lots of things that happen in this story are drawn from my own life. I hope you guys like it!
warnings: (overall, not all in this chapter) *slight* AU, eating disordered habits, abuse, mental hospitals, drug abuse, alcoholism, sex, violence, rock and roll

They found him in a tree.

After lots of searching, there he was, curled up and shivering against a swaying branch.

It was raining - he was soaked to the bone, his hair in a tangled mess, sticking to his face. His lips were lifeless and pale and quivering. His eyes were a very bright green, and every time he blinked, a bead of water would drop off his eyelash and roll slowly down his cheek.

He was a frightened animal, bruised and tattered. A cat stuck up in a tree. He needed a lot of convincing to get back down, but spoken language was unpleasant to him at that particular time, so he covered his ears and closed his eyes and mumbled incoherent, chant-like phrases to himself.

Someone finally got up there and cautiously put a blanket around him, making sure not to make any sudden movements, and helped him back down.
His bony fingers reached to grab the blanket. He pulled it tighter around himself and looked at his surroundings with an empty sort of sadness that, more or less, held him together.

He walked barefoot in the melting snow and did not feel a thing.

Later he would talk about how the trees curled upward like claws, they invited him near and held him close. That branch he was holding onto would never break on him.

No one had the heart to tell him that it cracked and fell down into a pile of snow shortly after he was taken to the hospital.

They washed him off, treated the wounds on his hands and feet, fed him a nice meal and gave him coffee to warm him up, but no one could look him in the eyes. They would show you the darkness that exists in every living being. They would pull you close and tear you apart. His tiny smile would contrast those stunning eyes and cause you to fidget uncomfortably and create an excuse to leave.

He represented the poetic beauty of sadness and that was too much for anyone to bear or even acknowlege. Instead they released him as soon as they found a safe place for him to go, and tried hard to forget those piercing green eyes that shown with a curious, childlike innocence, but told a tale of neglect, abuse, and emptiness.