Fic: In Your Arms, Chapter 18

[everfanthom]

Title: In Your Arms
Rating: This chapter, R-16 for violence and language.
Pairing: Vam!
Summary: High school AU. A repressed Ville has had a crush on Bam for years, but the skater has never noticed him. However, when he does, Ville begins to break out of his confines with the skater’s help and Bam finally finds some stability in his life. But everybody knows things do not always go well.

Previous Chapters~ Here

18-

“Meet again tomorrow, same place, same time?” Bam asked as he pulled up outside Ville’s house, getting out of the car with Ville to hug his boyfriend goodbye.

“Yeah,” Ville smiled, green eyes sparkling in the dim light as he snuggled into Bam’s body. “I should’ve skipped school sooner. I had a great time, Bam,” he laughed as Bam hugged him around the waist tightly and kissed him soundly.

“Me too, Willa,” Bam grinned toothily at Ville’s slightly stunned expression from the kiss and groped cheekily at Ville arse while he still had the chance. “Bye, babe,” he winked and spun around to get into his car.

Ville yelped at Bam’s wandering hand and retaliated before Bam could make a safe get away, whacking Bam square in the arse as the skater turned away. “Bye, angel,” Ville grinned mischievously and twiddled his fingers light heartedly in a naughty wave, backing away as Bam turned back around, blue eyes narrowed playfully. Growling, Bam launched forward and caught a giggling Ville around the hips, kissing him once more passionately, dazing Ville with his lips and tongue. Neither of them noticed one of the closed curtains of Ville’s house twitching open, both of them too wrapped up in each other.

Parting, Bam smiled at Ville. “See you tomorrow, Ville. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Ville replied, smiling also, watching as Bam reluctantly let go of him after pecking him once more on the lips and slid back into his car, drawing away from the sidewalk and waving out the window as he drove down the street.

Sighing as Bam’s car disappeared around the corner, Ville adjusted his bag on his shoulder and walked up to his front door, grinning stupidly to himself. He touched a finger to his slightly swollen lips. Everything… Everything was just so perfect.

Opening his front door, Ville stepped into his house and closed the door behind him, turning around while blowing his hair out of his eyes and starting when he practically walked into somebody.

“Oh! Mother, you scared…” Ville trailed off, eyes widening at the thunderous look on his mother’s face. His heart plummeted as his face paled, and he took a step backwards, his bag slipping from his shoulder and landing with a soft thump on the carpet.

“Mother, I-” He stuttered, breath becoming quicker as dread pooled in his stomach, making his knees weak. His eyes darted desperately from the open curtains at the front window, down to the half empty glass bottle of Jack Daniels clutched in Anita’s shaking hand and back to his mother’s alcohol bloated face reddened in incomprehensible rage.

Oh god. She had seen them.

“I-” Ville tried again, words getting suck in his throat. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

His mother lifted a trembling hand and pointed at him in the face, eyes bloodshot and wide in disbelieving anger. Ville flinched away from it, cowering back as his mother advanced on him, hissing.

“You-” Anita got out between clenched teeth, breathing heavily from the force of rage that she was feeling and trying to keep back, but the alcohol abuse did nothing to help. Spittle flew from her mouth as she roared her anger.

“You little fucking faggot!”

Slap!

Ville cried out as his mother’s palm connected solidly with the side of his face, skin reddening and hair flying as his head turned from the force of the blow, sending him tumbling backwards into the door behind him as his knees gave out. The noise of flesh connecting with flesh seemed to echo through the room, ringing in Ville’s ears as he tentatively touched the stinging area with trembling fingers.

Wide, disbelieving green eyes peered out from behind Ville’s messy hair at Anita’s enraged face. His mother had hit him. She had never hit him before. Petrified at the extent of the anger in her face, he desperately searched with his right hand for the doorknob, fingers scrambling over the wood as his heart beat like a frightened rabbits in his chest. He needed to get away, before she killed him in her rage.

But Anita hit him again around the face just as his hand connected with the cool metal of the doorknob, yelling wordlessly in fury as she let her anger fly at her son. She hit him so hard that his head bounced backwards off the door behind him, dazing him as he cried out in pain, and causing him to collapse to the floor, palms burning as they slid across the carpet as he tried to break his fall.

She was screaming now, spit flying from her mouth as she spat slurred words. “How dare you!? How dare you do this to me, you stupid little shit! I told you, I fucking told you that you would never see that, that boy again and what do you do?” Her face was steadily turning darker and darker, and she practically vibrated with the force of her voice.

Ville whimpered, tears beginning to stream down his face as he got up on his hands and knees, breath hitching as he tried to scramble up and get away from his lost in enraged fury fuelled with alcohol mother. But hot pain bloomed on his side, Anita’s foot making a dull thudding sound as it connected to his ribs, sending him crashing to the floor and into the door again as he choked on his cry of pain. He curled around his middle, arms covering his head feebly as kicks rained down on him, Anita taking her rage out as violent anger.

“You fucking suck face with him on my doorstep like you want to flaunt your disgusting sickness. What if the neighbours saw? How can you do this to me!? Such a stupid little faggot of a whore! Look at you, you’re even dressed like a prostitute! I should fucking kill you!” She screamed, panting with exertion as she kicked out with her feet. The blows could’ve been harder, but even if the alcohol loosened her inhibitions on hitting her son, it physically weakened her and made her aim skewed, making her sway and stumble and curse vehemently.

Ville took the chance to scramble up, groaning and gasping in pain through his heavy sobs as he clutched at his aching and bruised stomach, stumbling to his feet and making a wild dash towards the kitchen to get away from his furious mother who was now shouting at him in wordless fury over him daring to run from her. He made it to the doorway, fingers clutching at the wood before something collided and shattered over his head, making him scream out in agony as he stumbled, dazed, into the kitchen counter as he fell, jarring his hip and sending the full dish rack crashing to the floor, where dishes shattered and metal utensils clattered across the tiles.

Moaning, Ville tumbled to the floor onto his stomach amidst the mess, disorientated from the object connecting solidly with the back of his head. He lay there, gasping for air as his asthma started up, blood leaking into his hair and dripping down his face and neck, mixing with the stinging alcohol from the shattered bottle of Jack Daniels his mother had thrown at his head. Glass and cheap china shards bit into his tender skin exposed on his arms and hands, smearing even more thick red liquid over the kitchen tiles as he moved feebly, still trying to flee.

Anita grinned madly as she swayed into the kitchen, slippered feat protected from the sharp slivers, her eyes wide and satisfied as she saw her son wounded and defenceless on the tiles, bleeding and whimpering pathetically in dazed pain. She ground her heel down on Ville’s hand, taking perverse pleasure as he sobbed out a pained cry as glass was further driven into his tender palm.

“I also got a call from one of your teachers today,” she said almost conversationally, pushing down harder with her foot. “Turns out you’ve been skipping class.”

Ville moaned, trying to tug his hand out from under his mother’s foot, blinking away alcohol, tears and blood that was running into his eyes, sobbing in agony. “Mother, mother, please, I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out, writhing slowly on the tiles as he tried to slide away from her.

Anita threw her head back and laughed. “Sorry?” She screamed suddenly, “sorry? It’s a bit too fucking late now, isn’t it? You’ve been skipping class to be fucked up the arse by some homosexual freak!” She roared, bending down to grasp him by his bloody hair in a violent grip and yank him up to his feet by the handful, throwing him forward.

“Get up, get up!” She screamed, kicking him across the kitchen tiles as Ville simply collapsed again, curling around his middle to protect it as his mother kicked him viciously out of the kitchen. He managed to get up onto his bloodied hands and knees and crawl, sobbing, leaving stark red handprints on the carpet as she drove him down the hallway, once again lost in her rage as she let her feet fly against his body.

Ville tumbled into the bathroom, just laying on the tiles in a wounded, petrified heap half covered in blood from the copiously bleeding head wound and nicks on his arms, unable to go on any further, gasping out his sobbing cries that rasped up his throat. Anita shrieked out her rage, eyes wild in her bloated and red face as she threw bottles from the bathroom cabinet at him. “Get in, you stupid fucking waste of space! Get in!”

Whimpering, Ville pulled his aching body up over the rim of the bathtub and tumbled into it, smearing blood everywhere and crawling with effort into the corner, curling up into a protective ball. He cried out as his mother grabbed the showerhead viciously off the wall and turned it on, directing the freezing spray onto him. The water ran red as it pelted off his bloodied head and wounded arms, soaking into his clothes and making him shiver even more. However, it eased the stinging, washing away the alcohol from the shattered bottle that had him still seeing stars.

Anita suddenly became slightly more subdued, muttering to herself. “Never going to be able to get you clean, never, you’re poisoning me!” She abruptly screamed and threw the showerhead at him, the plastic bouncing off Ville’s knees, making the boy flinch and whimper in pain. “Dirty little whore! I can’t believe that you would do this to me, after all I’ve done for you!’ She roared, reaching into the tub and pulling him viciously out by an ice-cold arm, fingernails digging into his already wounded flesh.

Ville only tugged feebly at her grip, stumbling along uselessly as she dragged him down the hallway again, given up on trying to get away from his mother. She had completely lost it. He only prayed that it would soon be over, and he could crawl into Bam’s safe and strong arms and never leave them again.

Coming to a door, Anita yanked it open, revealing a small closet, and threw her son into it, making him bounce off the cleaning supplies at the back of it and collapse heavily to the floor in a wet, bloodied heap. Looking down at the pathetic sight, she sneered, not feeling any remorse or guilt as wounded and fearful green eyes peered up at her through soaked raggedly hair from a pale, hopeless face. Not wanting to see anymore of her disgusting child, she slammed the door and locked it from the outside; leaving her child she wanted nothing more to do with in the dark, cold and alone.

Ville sobbed quietly as he heard the key turn in the lock and his mother walk away down the hall, just lying there shivering on his side in the pitch black of the closet, soaking the carpet under him from his wet clothes and bleeding wounds. He desperately wanted Bam to come and get him, and he moaned in agony as he turned over into his back and reached desperately into his pocket of his jeans for his cell phone. Bam, Bam would make everything better, take him away from this place and heal his wounds, hug him to his body and warm him with love and comfort, and never leave him alone again.

But as he pulled over the device and pressed the keypad with trembling fingers, slipping in blood across the plastic, the screen remained dark. The phone had short circuited from the freezing cold shower his mother had given him. Wailing quietly, he clutched the phone to his chest, ignoring the pain of his aggravated cuts and bruises, curling up in the dark as he squeezed his eyes shut against a wave of dizziness. His heart cried out desperately for Bam, but he remained in the dark alone, shivering from the cold and shock and aching from his bruises all night as his wounds slowly ceased to bleed, even as his soul continued to do so.

-

Bam hummed happily as he pulled up into his garage, turning his car off and jumping out of it. He was in a fantastic mood and he couldn’t wait to see Ville again tomorrow. Grinning, he walked into the house, greeting April when he saw her in the kitchen at the counter.

“Hey, Ape!” He smiled, bounding up to her and giving her a big hug. He frowned in confusion when she flinched away from him, not responding to his embrace. “Ape?” Bam asked, stepping away from her.

“Bam, I’m not in the mood today for your antics,” April said, purposefully not looking her son in the face as she unpacked some Chinese takeaways for dinner. She couldn’t look into Bam’s eyes, afraid that she would see the betrayal in the blue, see the sickness in him that another boy had infected him with. To keep from breaking down in tears or blowing up in anger she had to remind herself that this could all just be a misunderstanding, that Bam was really just messing around with a girl and not a boy.

“Okaaay…” Bam said slowly, raising an eyebrow but shrugging anyway. April usually was ecstatic when he showed some affection towards her, as apparently he was a sullen teenager who was ‘too cool’ for his parents and didn’t hug them that often. It was a bit weird that she didn’t respond positively towards his embrace and generally happy mood. Must be PMS or menopause or something, Bam thought as he snatched a carton full of fried noodles from the counter.

Sighing, April closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hearing Bam behind her rummaging around in the drawers for a fork since he didn’t have the patience to use the chopsticks provided. She turned around and leaned against the counter, looking at the back of Bam’s head. “So, where have you been? You’ve been coming home rather late the past few nights,” she prodded.

Bam shrugged, opening the fridge to search for a can of soda. “Around. Hanging with my friends. Skating. The normal stuff,” he lied, not wanting to bring Ville up with her. It was hard to talk about the Finn without giving away that he was actually a boy and he still wasn’t ready to come out to his parents.

April narrowed her eyes. She knew that Bam was lying as she’d stopped by the skate park he was always at on the way home and had had a little chat with his friends when she had seen her son wasn’t there. They’d been taken aback that she’s actually ventured onto a place adults normally didn’t come, but they’d been polite to her. Novak and Raab had opened up easily to her questions about Bam, complaining that the other skater hadn’t been hanging out with them at all lately, and when he did it was always for a short time and he was always being mysterious about this random girl he was going out with. Turned out that they didn’t even know his girlfriend’s name, even Ryan, who Bam was the closest to, was in the dark. It was all pointing towards a conclusion that April didn’t want to face.

“Oh,” April said, deciding to not point out Bam’s lie and tip her son off that she was snooping around him. “What about Ville? Spending much time with her?” She asked.

“Er, yeah, I guess so,” Bam said, opening a can of Mountain Dew and closing the fridge with his foot. He smiled into his drink at the thought of spending more time with Ville again tomorrow, especially in his new clothes. God, Ville was so hot and all his.

April frowned and turned back to throw away the plastic bags littering the counter. “Actually, you haven’t told me much about Ville, Bam,” she said. “Tell me about her? How did you two meet?”

Bam settled at the breakfast bar and dug into his Chinese. “Met Vil’ at school,” was all he provided as he stuffed his mouth full of noodles.

“That’s it?” April prodded. “How did you get together? What does she like to do? Have you met her parents? Come on, Bam, give a curious mother here something!” She tried.

Frowning, Bam put down his fork. “What’s with all the questions?” He asked. April had given up long ago on getting information about his girlfriends and usually left him alone to sort his own stuff out, so her suddenly all curious and shit was kind of suspicious.

April shrugged, blowing the question off. Okay, she wasn’t going to get anything out of Bam without making him overly suspicious, she’d have to go around it another way. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just want to know what’s going on in your life once in a while.”

Bam raised an eyebrow and gathering up all his food, wanting to get away form his strangely acting mum. “Right,” he said sceptically. “I’m going to my room,” he said and retreated from the kitchen, walking past his dad as he headed for the stairs.

“Chinese?” Phil asked, peaking into Bam’s container.

“Yeah,” Bam replied, “and Ape’s acting really effin’ weird, so watch out.”

Phil shrugged. “Women; they’re always doing something strange,” he said and walked into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of take out.

Bam rolled his eyes and climbed the stairs, dumping his food onto his desk and pulling out his phone, checking his messages. For some odd reason, a shiver had just run down his spine and he had this random sense that something was wrong.

Biting his lip, he wondered if he should text Ville, but then decided not to, knowing that at the moment Ville was probably busy cooking dinner for his Nazi parents. He put his phone away and grabbed his soda, taking a swig, dismissing the feeling. A few hours later he went to bed, falling into an uneasy sleep.

-

Bam checked his phone for the tenth time that minute. “Damn it, Ville, where are you?” He muttered to himself, snapping his phone shut as he sighed and leant back against his car. Half an hour had passed since he got here and there was no sign of his boyfriend, no messages replying to his texts about where he was, and even his calls went to voicemail. To tell the truth, he was more worried than pissed off about Ville not showing up.

Deciding to give Ville five more minutes, Bam opened his car door and half sat in the drivers seat, leaning against the steering wheel as he tapped his thigh impatiently. The skate park at this time of morning was empty and it seemed barren with only Bam present, not even Ville to keep him company and laugh at his antics. For the first time in a while, Bam really started to miss his friends, even if they were immature douche bags most of the time. Damn, half an hour without Ville and he was already turning into a whiny sap.

“Fuck it,” Bam muttered and slammed the car door, turning on the ignition and pulling away from the sidewalk, heading towards Ville’s house. The sense that something horrible had happened from last night was coming back in full force and now Bam wasn’t so sure that he should’ve dismissed it. Something must’ve happened to make Ville forget about meeting Bam and not even call him to tell him he couldn’t make it, and Bam was starting to get really fucking worried. He hoped Ville’s parents hadn’t tried something.

In the few minutes it took to get to Ville’s house the feeling got stronger and Bam ended up going over the speed limit down the last road before he turned onto Ville’s street, biting his lip anxiously as he parked and checked his phone one last time. No messages. God, he hoped Ville’s mother hadn’t gone spastic on his boyfriend the night before and hurt him or something. Shit, if she had, Bam would go fucking ballistic at her and not even Ville could hold him back.

Ville’s mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway, so Bam parked there and slammed his car door before he jogged up to the front door, knocking on it, not caring if Ville’s parents actually were home and answered. He’d kick their shitty arses halfway to Africa if they tried to prevent him from seeing Ville and checking if he was okay.

A few minutes passed with no answer and Bam shifted impatiently on his feet, leaning to the left to peer into the house through the window. The room inside was dark and lifeless, and Bam bit his lip, cursing to himself. He stepped back and looked around desperately, before knocking again loudly and then trying the doorknob when again, nobody answered.

His stomach filled with dread when the door swung open eerily, unlocked.

“God, Ville, please be okay,” Bam said under his breath to himself, checking to see over his shoulder if anybody was looking before slipping noiselessly into the house, closing the door with a soft click behind him. He cocked his head and listened for a moment, but there was no sound, only of him breathing softly. Taking one step forward, he almost tripped over something.

“Shit!” Bam cursed quietly, his heart beating wildly from the scare. Looking down, he saw what he had almost fallen over was Ville’s bag, sitting just inside the door. Leaving things about was definitely not in Ville’s character, and the dismay Bam was feeling heightened even more. Something was starting to feel seriously wrong here.

Biting his lip in apprehension, Bam ventured further into the house, passing through the dim sunlight shining in from the window, and looked down curiously when something crunched under his foot in the carpet. It was shattered glass, and Bam followed the trail of it to the kitchen doorway, eyes widening in pure horror as he took in the state of the room.

There were broken plates and shards of glass strewn across the black and white kitchen tiles, glittering in the morning sun. It would’ve almost been pretty in a destructive sort of way if it weren’t for the dark red smears of dried blood painted across the floor, some half formed handprints, leading to the doorway of the hallway. Bam followed it almost in a trance, his face white as a sheet.

More blood staining the carpet, a macabre trail into the bathroom where Bam had once lovingly tended to Ville’s self-inflicted wounds. It was another scene of devastation, bottles of product thrown everywhere, half opened with liquid spilling out and contributing to a sharp, soapy smell that irritated Bam’s eyes and nose. The showerhead was lying out of the tub, still slowly leaking water that soaked into Bam’s shoes as he carefully picked his way in, avoiding the stark smudges of blood that lead to the bath. Water tinted red still lay in the bottom, turning Bam’s stomach, and a bloodied handprint marked the white plastic, reminding Bam of a horror film. It was a real horror for him though, as the print was the exact size of Ville’s hand.

Turning away from the sight and feeling like he was going to throw up, Bam fought back helpless and terrified tears and moaned in despair into his hands. He stumbled out of the bathroom, uncaring that he half tripped over the scattered containers of product and left footprints everywhere and leant against the wall, pressing his forehead into the hard surface.

“God,” he choked out, and turned his head to the side, trying to calm his breathing. But all it did was help his eyes catch sight of a wide open door, revealing the inside of a small closet. Blood lead into it, and there was a spot on the carpet that was soaked with the stuff, but none trailed out from it. There was something lying against the wall though, small and dark, and when Bam ventured over and picked it up with trembling hands, he realised it was Ville’s phone, unresponsive and fingerprinted with more dried blood.

Something about it scared the shit out of Bam, and he dropped the phone like it burned, retreating back out of the closet, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He didn’t want to go back in there, because somehow, the closet radiated a dark and ominous presence, as if you stayed in there too long you would lose any kind of positive feeling, that it would suck the life right out of you. There wasn’t nearly enough blood present for somebody to have bled out, just maybe a wound located somewhere that bled a lot, but Bam still turned his back on it and fled down the hallway, feet pounding against the carpet as he ran for Ville’s room, hoping furiously that his boyfriend was in there, that Bam would be able to pull him into his arms and make sure he was fine and never let him go again.

But when Bam burst into the room, there was no Ville welcoming him with open arms and a sweet kiss, just clothes thrown across the floor, a toppled chair and a broken lamp that had once sat on Ville’s bedside table. It was dark and eerie; the curtains were drawn and the only light source filtered around Bam’s still figure, casting distorted shadows. It reflected the entire house, empty with no explanation, in a state of chaos that made Bam want to cry and rage all at the same time as he picked Brandon the bunny off the floor, staring into the big emotionless button eyes. The toy gave no hint to what had happened though, or where Ville was now, and Bam clutched it to his chest, feeling overwhelmed and scared and useless and worried beyond belief for his Ville. The blood, oh god, the blood.

Suddenly, his phone rang in his pocket and Bam ignored it for a few seconds, unable to even move. The despair running through his body froze him to the spot, and for a moment rendered him unable to think or respond to anything, just stand there with Ville’s abandoned treasured toy clutched weakly in his trembling hands. But the ringing persisted, and Bam, almost zombie-like, reached into his jeans and pulled his phone out, pressing it to his ear as his eyes stared ahead into Ville’s blank wall.

“He- hello?”

“Bam?”

Bam’s breath hitched and his heart pounded in his chest as he heard Ville’s voice over the phone. Suddenly, he came alive again. “Ville! Oh god, babe, where are you? Are you okay? You didn’t show up at the park so I went to your house and fuck, Ville, your bathroom, the kitchen- there’s blood-” He choked out, squeezing his eyes shut in relief as tears began to build up in them. At least Ville was alive and capable of calling him.

“Bam, Bam, please, I’m fine, but I don’t- I don’t have much time,” Ville’s weak voice was completely wrecked and he sounded panicked, breath hitching over words. He slurred them also, strangely tripping over the pronunciations, as if he was drunk, or overly dizzy.

“What do you mean you don’t have much time?” Bam said as he started running towards the front door, Brandon still gripped to his side like a comfort toy. “Just, tell me where you are, I’ll come get you, babe, oh fuck I was so worried-” He rambled, slamming the door behind him, uncaring if anybody saw him as he ran down the lawn to his car as fast as his legs could take him.

“Bam-” Ville was starting to cry now, words even more distorted. “Bam, you can’t come get me. I’m so sorry, angel, but mother, mother saw us and she-”

“Willa, calm down, it’s alright, just tell me where you are,” Bam said as he jumped into his car and slammed the door, “fuck, I’m going to murder your mum if she hurt you!”

Ville sobbed quietly over the phone. “Bam, please- just- I’m at the airport.”

Bam’s heart stopped in his chest. “What?” He whispered.

“My- my flight leaves in twenty minutes.”

Bam dropped his keys in the middle of jamming them into the ignition, eyes widening in horror as his fingers numbed from the shock. “Your flight? What- Ville, I don’t fucking understand!?”

“Mother- she’s sending, oh god, she’s forcing me back to Finland, Bam, I’m so sorry. I only got away to call you on a pay-phone because I told her I was- that I needed to go to the bathroom,” the Finn choked out over the crackly connection, “she’s going to come look for me any second- Bam- oh Bam I’m so sorry!”

“No, no!” Bam said, knuckles white as he held his phone to his ear, coming out of his shock and starting the car, tyres squealing as he pulled away violently from the sidewalk. “Ville, god, just run, I’m coming to get you-”

“Bam, please, you don’t- mother, no!” Ville’s voice panicked and Bam swore as he heard a scuffle over the phone. “Ville! Ville!”

“Bam!-” the connection suddenly cut off and Bam swore again violently, throwing his phone into the passenger seat and accelerating heavily, dissolving into angry tears and hitting the steering wheel fiercely with his hands. He knew it would be useless to drive to the airport as it took at least half an hour to get there even if he sped and there was no traffic, and Ville was leaving in twenty minutes. He drove for ten before he gave up and yanked the steering wheel to the side to pull over, not being able to see anything through his tears. “No, no, no, no, NO!”

Sobbing, he hit his head against the steering wheel once, twice and yelled his frustration and grief into the object, hitting it with his hands. He felt so fucking useless and fuck, Ville, oh god…

What was he going to do now?

-Chapter 19

A/N: ;-; I am a terrible person...

And even more so, since I won't be able to update for a while. Sorry about this one taking so long, but I'm pretty busy with school at the moment. *stress* But in a few weeks updates will start up again. Hopefully I won't lose my awesome readers. :D

Comments? (And sorry about not replying to the last chapter's comments, busy author is busy. D: )