When The Storm Subsides (Vam) (2/?) RE-WRITTEN!
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.
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.