Strawberry Fields (Vam) (1/3)
Title: Strawberry Fields
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: Nothing else was ever a weakness.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story.
Author's Note: This came about because Glycerine by Bush is one of my all time favorite songs, and I felt it could be used in a Vammy sense. And I just wanted to write some more, haha.
The decision wasn't an easy one to make. We'd been so careless over the years. We went about our days and nights attached at the hip, trading stupid nicknames and pouring drinks, forever calling for another round while the cameras clicked away. Careless. He fooled me into thinking we were invincible with a wink and a breathy laugh. He had so much less to lose, so few hang-ups. I wanted to be Ville Valo nearly as much as I wanted to be with him.
I was so in love with him, starstruck and captivated by this man like I'd never been before. And he loved me back. Like something out of a drunken, garbled fairy tale, we became each other's obsession. I took it to great heights, while Ville was more restrained. He let the little things speak the volumes between us, lyrics and whispers in the dark. Together, we forgot that we were scrutinized by the outside world.
We forgot.
When I realized people were talking, speculating about me, about us, I panicked. Being in love with a man would do nothing for me professionally. My reputation as a tough guy asshole had to remain untainted. My fear made me irrational, and Ville suffered for it.
I was visiting him in Finland when I reacted to the rumors. He'd invited me to see him while his lady was away, explaining it away with a blithe "So we don't annoy her, of course". His true motive was one having to do with reminding me just how much he missed me when I was an ocean away. Remind me he did, several times during that week. We drowned ourselves blissfully in alcohol and cigarettes, finding each other in the haze of it all, and it was the closest to heaven I thought I'd ever find. But as I'd lie in bed next to Ville, looking at him as he slept, I felt the knot in my chest tighten, the fear returning as I came down from the natural high of an earlier hour. I'd squeeze my eyes shut, wishing it away, before placing a kiss on my friend's forehead and falling into a fitful sleep.
The night before I left, I opened the gates to hell and tugged Ville in with me.
We were sitting up in his bed, our backs against the headboard, tangled up in bedsheets. I had one arm around his shoulders, and he was pressed against my side, his head resting against my bare collarbone. I felt safe, pleasantly exhausted and alive. But I was out of time. I had to do it, had to brave the worst while I could. Before he could bewitch me again.
"Ville, I need to say something," I said quietly, watching smoke from my cigarette curl and vanish in the semi-darkness. "I should've said it when I got here, but you... You got me again, as usual." Ville chuckled and tilted his head up to nudge my jaw.
"I'm listening," he murmured, tracing patterns on my chest with his fingers. I closed my eyes and gave him a slight squeeze, an unspoken apology for the words that were going to break his heart.
"I love you, Willa," I whispered, my heart beating faster, like a warning, a last ditch effort at stopping this disaster before it began. I ignored it. "I love you so much, but people are... they're starting to say things. Things that could make my life really difficult. True things." I felt Ville tense against me before he moved away to look at me dubiously. My skin instantly formed goosebumps where he'd been, missing his warmth.
"What sorts of things?" he asked guardedly. I tried to look him in the eye, but the swirling mist of dread, realization and bubbling fury I saw there caused me to look down at the cigarette now smouldering lifelessly in an ashtray next to my hip.
"That I'm a faggot--"
"Don't say that, Bam."
"It's what people are saying!" I exclaimed glancing up at him again. He was looking still more angry. My eyes strayed once more. "They're saying that I'm a fag, a freak. People are starting to not want to work with me, signing other people for sponsorships and skate demos and--"
"People this, people that, who the fuck even really cares?" Ville snapped. "God, where is your backbone, Margera? Some stupid rumor starts and you're the poster child for paranoia! People have said that I'm gay for ages and do I care? No, I don't, because at the end of the day, so what if I am? So fucking what?"
"I'm not you!" I shouted, my head in my hands. "I can't make that angle work for me like you can, Ville. If people know that I actually really do sneak off to Finland every now and then to fuck my best friend, it'll be a sign of weakness for them to pick apart."
"It's only a weakness if you let it be," Ville said coldly. "You let nothing else become a weakness, Bam. Not your drinking, not your pills, not your idiotic scandals, nothing. Brush it off with a joke, leave people to forget, it's what you do for a fucking living!"
"This isn't a joke!" I argued, standing up and crossing my arms over my chest to hide the way my hands were shaking. "I mean this, what you and I have! This is real, not a throwaway fling, Ville. I fucking love you."
"I see," Ville said softly, taking deep breaths as he stared up at me from his place on the bed. "Well, Bam. If you can't stand the thought of being honest about what we are, whatever it is that we are, then clearly you are not mature enough to handle this love you claim to have."
"No, Vil, that's not--"
"The fuck it isn't," Ville said, extracting himself from the covers and pulling on a black T-shirt with a hem that barely met the top of his pajama bottoms. "I'm sorry I didn't allow you to tell me this when you arrived. I'd feel a lot less awful right now if I had."
"Babe, please don't feel bad, please," I said desperately, feeling myself giving over to hysterics. I walked around the bed to where he stood and wrapped my arms around him. "I don't want you to be hurt, Ville."
"Oh, was I supposed to do a jig because you're a coward and a child?" Ville asked coldly, pushing me away. "Were you so naive as to think that this would be okay? After this week, after all the weeks like this that we've had? Goddammit, Bam. Grow up!"
He stormed from the bedroom and locked himself in the bathroom at the end of the hall. I got dressed and packed my things before trying to coax him out to at least say goodbye. He was silent except for a few hiccuping noises that yanked on my heartstrings in ways nothing else could. I whispered that I was sorry and left him be, finding my way to the door in the dark as though Ville's home was my own. As I was about to shut the door behind me, I heard footsteps in the apartment. I considered going back inside, but closed my eyes and heard the soft click instead. I checked to make sure the door had locked, then headed out to hail a taxi. I was thankful for the coldness of the night; it gave my tears an excuse.
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: Nothing else was ever a weakness.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story.
Author's Note: This came about because Glycerine by Bush is one of my all time favorite songs, and I felt it could be used in a Vammy sense. And I just wanted to write some more, haha.
The decision wasn't an easy one to make. We'd been so careless over the years. We went about our days and nights attached at the hip, trading stupid nicknames and pouring drinks, forever calling for another round while the cameras clicked away. Careless. He fooled me into thinking we were invincible with a wink and a breathy laugh. He had so much less to lose, so few hang-ups. I wanted to be Ville Valo nearly as much as I wanted to be with him.
I was so in love with him, starstruck and captivated by this man like I'd never been before. And he loved me back. Like something out of a drunken, garbled fairy tale, we became each other's obsession. I took it to great heights, while Ville was more restrained. He let the little things speak the volumes between us, lyrics and whispers in the dark. Together, we forgot that we were scrutinized by the outside world.
We forgot.
When I realized people were talking, speculating about me, about us, I panicked. Being in love with a man would do nothing for me professionally. My reputation as a tough guy asshole had to remain untainted. My fear made me irrational, and Ville suffered for it.
I was visiting him in Finland when I reacted to the rumors. He'd invited me to see him while his lady was away, explaining it away with a blithe "So we don't annoy her, of course". His true motive was one having to do with reminding me just how much he missed me when I was an ocean away. Remind me he did, several times during that week. We drowned ourselves blissfully in alcohol and cigarettes, finding each other in the haze of it all, and it was the closest to heaven I thought I'd ever find. But as I'd lie in bed next to Ville, looking at him as he slept, I felt the knot in my chest tighten, the fear returning as I came down from the natural high of an earlier hour. I'd squeeze my eyes shut, wishing it away, before placing a kiss on my friend's forehead and falling into a fitful sleep.
The night before I left, I opened the gates to hell and tugged Ville in with me.
We were sitting up in his bed, our backs against the headboard, tangled up in bedsheets. I had one arm around his shoulders, and he was pressed against my side, his head resting against my bare collarbone. I felt safe, pleasantly exhausted and alive. But I was out of time. I had to do it, had to brave the worst while I could. Before he could bewitch me again.
"Ville, I need to say something," I said quietly, watching smoke from my cigarette curl and vanish in the semi-darkness. "I should've said it when I got here, but you... You got me again, as usual." Ville chuckled and tilted his head up to nudge my jaw.
"I'm listening," he murmured, tracing patterns on my chest with his fingers. I closed my eyes and gave him a slight squeeze, an unspoken apology for the words that were going to break his heart.
"I love you, Willa," I whispered, my heart beating faster, like a warning, a last ditch effort at stopping this disaster before it began. I ignored it. "I love you so much, but people are... they're starting to say things. Things that could make my life really difficult. True things." I felt Ville tense against me before he moved away to look at me dubiously. My skin instantly formed goosebumps where he'd been, missing his warmth.
"What sorts of things?" he asked guardedly. I tried to look him in the eye, but the swirling mist of dread, realization and bubbling fury I saw there caused me to look down at the cigarette now smouldering lifelessly in an ashtray next to my hip.
"That I'm a faggot--"
"Don't say that, Bam."
"It's what people are saying!" I exclaimed glancing up at him again. He was looking still more angry. My eyes strayed once more. "They're saying that I'm a fag, a freak. People are starting to not want to work with me, signing other people for sponsorships and skate demos and--"
"People this, people that, who the fuck even really cares?" Ville snapped. "God, where is your backbone, Margera? Some stupid rumor starts and you're the poster child for paranoia! People have said that I'm gay for ages and do I care? No, I don't, because at the end of the day, so what if I am? So fucking what?"
"I'm not you!" I shouted, my head in my hands. "I can't make that angle work for me like you can, Ville. If people know that I actually really do sneak off to Finland every now and then to fuck my best friend, it'll be a sign of weakness for them to pick apart."
"It's only a weakness if you let it be," Ville said coldly. "You let nothing else become a weakness, Bam. Not your drinking, not your pills, not your idiotic scandals, nothing. Brush it off with a joke, leave people to forget, it's what you do for a fucking living!"
"This isn't a joke!" I argued, standing up and crossing my arms over my chest to hide the way my hands were shaking. "I mean this, what you and I have! This is real, not a throwaway fling, Ville. I fucking love you."
"I see," Ville said softly, taking deep breaths as he stared up at me from his place on the bed. "Well, Bam. If you can't stand the thought of being honest about what we are, whatever it is that we are, then clearly you are not mature enough to handle this love you claim to have."
"No, Vil, that's not--"
"The fuck it isn't," Ville said, extracting himself from the covers and pulling on a black T-shirt with a hem that barely met the top of his pajama bottoms. "I'm sorry I didn't allow you to tell me this when you arrived. I'd feel a lot less awful right now if I had."
"Babe, please don't feel bad, please," I said desperately, feeling myself giving over to hysterics. I walked around the bed to where he stood and wrapped my arms around him. "I don't want you to be hurt, Ville."
"Oh, was I supposed to do a jig because you're a coward and a child?" Ville asked coldly, pushing me away. "Were you so naive as to think that this would be okay? After this week, after all the weeks like this that we've had? Goddammit, Bam. Grow up!"
He stormed from the bedroom and locked himself in the bathroom at the end of the hall. I got dressed and packed my things before trying to coax him out to at least say goodbye. He was silent except for a few hiccuping noises that yanked on my heartstrings in ways nothing else could. I whispered that I was sorry and left him be, finding my way to the door in the dark as though Ville's home was my own. As I was about to shut the door behind me, I heard footsteps in the apartment. I considered going back inside, but closed my eyes and heard the soft click instead. I checked to make sure the door had locked, then headed out to hail a taxi. I was thankful for the coldness of the night; it gave my tears an excuse.