Fic: In Your Arms, Chapter 21
Title: In Your Arms
Rating: This chapter, R-16
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.
A/N: Next chapter, as promised! :)
Previous Chapters~ Here
21-
The leaves were very green. Ville looked up at them, at the spots of light filtering between them. He could see the sky, just a mass of grey. Clouds a large moving mass, bloated and curling as they grew. Odd, because why was it so bright?
Bam’s front door was yellow, and the steps leading up to it were white. His footprints smeared dirt across the wood as he walked across, the trees whispering from the front yard urging him on as he looked at the brass knob. He turned it, stepped in. Suddenly, it was very quiet. Muted.
No. There was ticking from the grandfather clock across the hall, wood chipped and glass dusty. It read ten to twelve when Ville stood in front of it, touched the cold surface. Where was Bam?
The family picture, framed in modern black and out of place on the floral wallpaper, gave no answer. Bam’s face was silent, and his parent’s features were smudged beyond recognition as they touched his shoulders, his older brother so far in the background he was anonymous. Ville stepped back from it, apprehensive.
“In here.”
Ville turned, smiled, and stepped into the lounge. The woollen rug whispered under his feet, a dark, homey blue, caressing his soles with soft fibres. He absently wondered where his shoes went as a sudden rain beat down on the roof, throwing droplets of salty water against the window in a windy temperament. The curtains were a deep, forbidding purple, sucking in the artificial light shining from the lamp beside the couch.
The smile slid from his lips.
The girl’s hair was red, poisonous as the strands slid through Bam’s tender fingers as he kissed her, holding her tight to his body and in his lap. Bam broke away, looked at him with bored blue eyes that felled Ville to his knees.
“I don’t want you anymore.” He said. “Stop calling me. Go away.”
Tears dripped from Ville’s chin. As the room curled sinuously into darkness the girl looked over her shoulder, teeth bared in a mockery of a smile.
She had his mother’s face.
-
Ville blinked his eyes open, staring up at the darkened ceiling. Tears were wet on his cheeks, and he closed his eyes again, just letting them fall and soak into his pillow silently as the memory of the nightmare drifted away.
It had been a week and a half, and no word from Bam. His phone refused to take calls, the emails Ville’s sent remained unanswered, the invitations for instant messaging neither accepted nor declined. The fear that Bam didn’t want him anymore and was just ignoring him was very real, and Ville was helpless against the feeling of despair deep inside his chest that haunted him. It was also mixed with worry, and a slow frustrated anger that simmered in the bottom of his stomach that Ville didn’t know what to do about, or why it was even there. Anger at himself, his mother, everybody? He didn’t know, or understand. He just hoped nothing bad had happened to Bam. This not knowing, it was killing him.
He’d started school a few days ago, and it seemed his existence there was monotonous. School in Helsinki felt the same as school in America. A different language maybe, and different classes, but there were still the same clichés, the same stereotypes and the same, age-old gossiping. And as always, Ville remained the strange, foreign quiet kid in the corner with no friends to speak of, who wore second hand clothes and hats that hid his face.
And, as always, he remained the easy target of bullies. It seemed Ville was stuck in a never-ending cycle that had no end, one that he couldn’t break out of. Not without Bam, anyway.
Bam, Ville thought sadly, and rolled onto his side, ignoring the wetness on his pillow as he curled up even more under the covers. Even if the heater was on, he was perpetually cold. He didn’t know if it was a consequence of his emotional state or that the weight he had gained from Bam stuffing him at every opportunity was disappearing at an alarming rate, and he didn’t much care. He was just cold. It wasn’t as if Anette starved him, in fact, she was very kind towards him and cooked him food, it was just that Ville had no appetite at all anymore. Food did not appeal to him when he just wanted to lie down somewhere and let life pass him by.
Ville didn’t want to fall back into sleep and back into his nightmare, and while his alarm clock read four in the morning, he still dragged himself out of bed in the dark and went to sit in front of the heater. His fingers longed for his guitar to pass the time, but he knew that it was still under his bed in America, probably gathering dust. At least his mother would probably never find it. Shoulders drooping, he flicked on the light and settled down to do homework that wasn’t due for another week. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do, and anything was better than dwelling on Bam.
At least homework didn’t tear his heart into pieces.
-
For the first few days of Bam’s hospitalisation April had refused to leave his bedside, only leaving minutes at a time to go to the bathroom or grab a bite to eat when her stomach growled angrily at her. She’d even slept in the uncomfortable plastic chair, hunched over and half on Bam’s bed, gripping the hand that was not badly damaged to assure herself that he was still warm and alive. No amount of fussing from the hospital staff could get her to budge, and none of her friends that had come to visit and offer their support and sympathies could get her to go home and at least shower. Phil had gotten a few days off work because of the situation, but he’d had to go back a few days ago. April was pretty sure she’d been fired from her work.
She didn’t really give a shit. The only thing she cared about at the moment was her son, and if he was ever going to wake up. At least he was now off the respirator, and able to breath on his own, and his bruises were beginning to fade, the swelling going down and the cuts healing. But Dr. Lang said that even if it was a step in the right direction, Bam still showed no signs of waking up and his brain activity was worryingly low. He thankfully didn’t mention anything about brain damage again, but April still had refused to hear it.
In the end, it was Phil that had convinced her to go home and get some rest, eat properly and change clothes.
“Bam wouldn’t want you to kill yourself over him,” Phil had said, touching her pallid cheek tenderly, worriedly.
She had shaken him off. “I’m not killing myself. I’m fine.” Her tone had been sharp.
He’d sighed. “No, Ape, you’re not. You’re running yourself ragged. You’re not eating properly, or sleeping, and everybody is worried. Please, come home, Bam won’t be going anywhere.”
“No.”
“Ape, gorgeous,” he’d whispered, laying his head down on her shoulder, his voice suspiciously choked up. “Please, if you don’t end up killing yourself you’re going to end up killing me. The two people I love most in the world, ending up in hospital? What would I do?”
The stark pain in his voice and shaken something inside of her that had been otherwise immovable before, and she’d finally looked into his eyes and seen what she was doing to her husband. April had glanced at Bam’s face, so peaceful but colourless in his unconscious state, his chest moving steadily up and down, and then back at Phil, so earnest in his devastation. Finally, she’d nodded and given in, kissing Bam on the forehead and watching Phil do the same before leaving, both looking over their shoulders at their stagnant son.
April’d spent the night in his arms, and despite her feelings that she would never be able to sleep, she had, and peacefully. In the morning she’d showered, and emerged from the bathroom feeling like she had become alive again. Phil had driven her back to the hospital after a hearty breakfast, kissed her on the cheek, and said he’d come see her at lunch.
Now, she made her way out of the elevator and down the hall to Bam’s room, opening the door labelled with his name and no other. Because of the situation of his hospitalisation, Bam had been given a private room while the police investigated his assault and the arson of the park he’d only been found just in time before he’d given into smoke inhalation. Even after a week and a half, the police had still made no progress.
April paused. There was somebody else in Bam’s room that wasn’t a nurse or a doctor, standing by his bedside with her hair covering her face as she slowly placed a stupid get-well card from Bam’s friends back in its place, next to April’s bright carnations and pristine white lilies.
Cautiously, April closed the door behind her and took a step forward. The girl didn’t appear to notice her.
“Hello?” April said, gripping her bag full of things that she’d brought to do by Bam’s bedside tight in her hand.
The girl jumped and spun around to look at her with wide reddened eyes, her face pale and gaunt and her lips chewed into a swollen, dry mess. April let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t one of Bam’s attackers after all.
“Jenn, this is a surprise.” April smiled a bit uncertainly, dropping her bag onto one of the tables. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.” And she really hadn’t. Bam had really seemed to like her in the beginning, and April had thought her pleasant enough but slightly full of her self, but then Bam had suddenly stopped mentioning her all together and had dumped her for Ville. April mentally winced and shoved the thought into the back of her mind. She had enough on her plate with Bam a few steps away from a coma, and thinking of Bam’s boyfriend at the moment wouldn’t do anything but make her even more emotional than before. Still, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Ville, and Bam’s ex-girlfriend was here. If anything, April was sure that showed that Ville, a boy, couldn’t really care about her Bam at all if he didn’t visit his boyfriend when he was in hospital and gravely wounded.
And if he ever dared show his face after all this time, claiming that he did, well, April had a few choice words to tell him, including some punctuated with her fist.
Jenn looked decidedly uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, her eyes flitting between April and the door. She also was looking quite distressed, her clothes rumpled and in disarray. “Er, hello, Mrs Margera.” She muttered.
Eyebrow rising, April took a step forward to stand next to her. Well that was a first; one of Bam’s friends actually calling her Mrs. Margera.
For a few moments there was silence as April looked Jenn over, before she sighed and sat down in the plastic chair, wincing. You would think hospitals would invest in something more comfortable. Taking Bam’s hand up in hers, April looked her unconscious son over and didn’t know whether to be happy or sad that there was no change in his condition.
Jenn continued to fidget next to her.
“It looks terrible, doesn’t it?” April said quietly, softly stroking a thumb over the back of Bam’s motionless hand. Jenn was silent. Even if the swelling was going down and the bruises fading, Bam still looked like death warmed to life by red spotted bandages and hollow, sunken eyes. They’re removed some of the bandages covering his head, revealing some of his shaven skull littered with discoloration, and it just made him look like a cancer patient in the last few days before they succumbed to death.
“The doctors,” April continued, “say that he’ll probably never wake up. But if he does, he’ll be no better than a vegetable.” She laughed wetly, sniffing. “I don’t believe them. My Bam is stronger than that,” she whispered, mostly to herself.
Next to her, Jenn’s breathing had sped up, and when April looked at her sharply, the blonde flinched back, eyes wide and guilty.
“You know something, don’t you?” April accused.
Chin trembling, Jenn put up her hands and took a step back, shaking her head. April had never seen her so distraught.
Still, April didn’t let up. Her eyes were narrowed, suspicious. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not stupid, Jenn. You wouldn’t show up here unless something was bothering you and I’m not gullible enough to believe that you would be worried for a boy who dumped you flat. Now tell me.”
There was sweat forming on the girl’s forehead now. “I swear, Mrs. Margera,” Jenn stuttered, taking another step back, “I don’t- I swear,” she gulped, beginning to tear up as she began to shake, “please, I didn’t do anything!”
April had no sympathy for her as she stood and grabbed Jenn’s wrist in her hand, tight enough to bruise as the girl broke down into tears, sobbing loudly. “I never meant for this to happen,” she sobbed, cowering in April’s grip and deadly glare. “God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Bam!”
But the wounded skater didn’t reply, and remained motionless as April shoved Jenn into the plastic chair and told her to stay put. Not caring that the girl almost looked like she was about to have a panic attack the way she was beginning to hyperventilate and begging Bam to forgive her through her sobs, April rang the number that the police gave her in case something happened.
“Oh, shut up,” April said to Jenn loudly just as a nurse walked in, looking worried about all the noise, and made her way over to Jenn just as somebody picked up. April explained about Jenn as the nurse gave up trying to calm the girl down and called for a sedative, and hung up when Detective Kay said he’d be right over.
“Don’t give her something too strong,” April said to the other nurse that came in with a tray over the noise of Jenn’s pitiful sobbing, “she’s going to be questioned in a few minutes.”
-
Another day at school, and another day of brainless, friendless, hopeless solitude. Anette had dropped him off in the morning on her way to work, chatting idly at him, and had given him some lunch money and a kiss on the cheek. Ville had smiled at her hollowly just to get her to not look so downtrodden when he hadn’t really responded to her, and had given her an awkward hug. He felt bad knowing that she was doing everything to make him welcome in her and Matti’s life and going out of her way to be kind to him, and he was being so depressed at her, so a hug was the least he could do. At least she’d brightened up at that.
Slinging his battered bag over his shoulder, he’d stuffed the money into his pocket, knowing that he wouldn’t be spending it on lunch, and had made his way into the dreary concrete building that made up the equally dreary public school he now attended. It had been raining, but he hadn’t rushed, so for the first periods of the day Ville had spent cold and damp to the bone. It wasn’t much of a change.
Now it was the end of school, and Ville stood in front of his locker helplessly as the swarm of pupils coming out of classes and getting their things chattered endlessly around him. If it was a normal day back in America, Ville would be meeting Bam at this very moment, and the skater would’ve pulled him into the parking lot and into his car to kiss him breathless and smile at him with sparkling, gorgeous blue eyes.
Ville clenched his eyes shut against the pang in his chest and clung onto his locker door as somebody bumped into him and carried on their way without apologising. Biting his lip, he sighed, ducking his head further underneath his hat and wishing that he could just put his hands over his ears to block out the loud sound of everything around him and scream himself hoarse. He just wanted Bam.
Somebody grabbed onto his shoulder, a heavy, painful grip, and Ville froze. He knew it couldn’t be Darren, but every time something like this happened he couldn’t help but think of the big, disgusting jock and his putrid breath in his face, his bulk pushing Ville down into the dirty tiles of the school hallways. But even though this wasn’t America and Darren was nowhere to be found, this was still a high school, and like every high school, there came bullies.
Big, stupid, imbeciles of shit-head bullies.
“You’re in my way,” the guy said, and Ville closed his eyes against the spasm of hatred in his stomach. Aarne was the one bully that had been on Ville’s back since day one, and Ville wasn’t sure if he hated the bully or himself more, for not fighting back.
Ville definitely wasn’t in his way, but Aarne just wanted an excuse to beat somebody up in front of the school to make himself feel powerful, Ville was sure of it. All bullies were the same, and so were the students, Ville’s so called peers who never did anything to stop them.
Suddenly, Ville had had enough. He was tired of being picked on, of being humiliated and put down and reduced to a shivering heap of aches and bruises at night just for somebody else’s amusement. He was tired of waiting for somebody else, anybody else to save him (oh, Bam, I need you), because it was obvious nobody cared to. He had to stick up for himself for the first time in his life.
The spasm of hot anger in his stomach became a rush, running up his spine and heating his face, and he clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms and his frail frame began to vibrate. He didn’t know what he’d do, but it felt like something that had been held back for years under his mother’s tyranny over his life and school bullies was beginning to break out from the hold that Ville had put on it.
Aarne breathed into his ear, invading his personal space. “Didn’t you hear me? You’re in my way.”
Ville snapped.
Spinning around, Ville raised his fist, his hat dropping from his head as his hair flew around his face. The look on Aarne’s face was comical as Ville’s knuckles smashed into it, crunching into his nose and sending blood flying. The hallway went suddenly completely silent and still, students stopping right where they stood to watch the tables turn on one of the school’s resident bullies.
But Ville wasn’t done. As Aarne hunched over, cursing violently and clutching at his broken nose, Ville lifted a foot and effortlessly kicked the bully viciously right between the legs.
Aarne went down like a sack of big, brainless and in terrible pain potatoes.
“You touch me again,” Ville warned in the shocked silence, shaking out his aching fist, his face still flushed with anger and chest heaving from his exertion, “and I’ll do more than smash you nose in and break your balls.”
Aarne only moaned in pain from the ground in response, slowly writhing as he curled up into a ball and clutched at his crotch. Blood from his nose spilled onto the cream tiles.
Still vibrating with adrenaline, Ville turned around, grabbed his stuff and slammed his locker closed. Turning back around, he stepped over the groaning bully, and suddenly felt the weight of the many eyes from the students around him staring at him. Refusing to back down, he lifted his chin proudly and made his way down the hallway, slowly beginning to pick up the pace as the whispers started around him. By the time he had made it out of the front doors he was a nervous wreck, hands shaking and face pale, his head light and dizzy. He ran around the school building, collapsing against the brick wall and clutching at his pounding chest.
“Oh my fucking god,” he rasped, “I can’t believe I just did that.” Gasping, he slid down the wall in a shocked haze, and lifted his fist to inspect it with wide, disbelieving green eyes. His knuckles were raw and already bruising, and Ville poked at them and winced as a little bit of blood trickled out from where the skin had split. Licking it away, he dropped it into his lap carelessly and tipped his head back, closing his eyes as his heart rate slowed down.
He had never hit somebody before. Ville wasn’t sure if he liked it, the feeling of cartilage giving way under his knuckles and flesh bruising under his feet, but fuck the thrill of finally fighting back was so good. Smiling a bit to himself, he brushed away some relieved tears from his cheeks, not knowing why he was crying for Christs’ sake but he just felt suddenly so much lighter than before. This feeling of triumph was so much better than the self-pity he had been wallowing in. For the first time in a while, he was feeling alive.
Bam would be proud of him.
“Hey.”
Ville flinched and opened his eyes to see somebody standing in front of him, looking down through messy dark brown hair as they scratched absently at their scruffy half-arsed beard. There was a spark of recognition; Ville was pretty sure he shared some of his classes with them, but he had no idea who his name was.
Ville just blinked up at him, the loss of his adrenaline making his frame shiver and his legs wobbly. When it was obvious he was getting up, the guy joined him on the cold ground, damp from the morning rain.
“What you did there was pretty damn awesome,” the guy said, grinning. Ville noted absently that he had a nice smile, honest and almost playful. “Aarne’s one mean son of a bitch. He was just begging for a fist to the face. I’m Mige, by the way.” He held a hand out.
Ville looked at the hand for a moment before tentatively holding his own out, slowly shaking hands with Mige, feeling the rough palms and thick calluses.
“I’m Ville,” Ville said hesitantly.
“Well, Ville, I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” Mige grinned and pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Ville wondered why Mige wanted to hang with him, of all people, since he seemed pretty cool, but he didn’t want to freak out the only person who’d approached him in friendship by prying. But didn’t Mige have other friends?
“Want one?”
Well, today was full of firsts. Ville had just punched somebody in the face after all, what could a cigarette hurt? He nodded, and Mige laughed when he choked on the first inhale.
-
Darren was fucking pissed off. The fucking shit head of a skater refused to die, even after he’d lit the damn little fucker on fire and left him to roast in the park. And to make matters worse, the skinny Finnish whore Valo was nowhere to be found. He didn’t show up at school or at his usual haunts that Darren had followed him to before, and the jock had even looked up his name in the phonebook and gone to his house, where he’d been absent also. It was like he’d just disappeared into nowhere.
And damn it, Darren was horny for a screaming pretty boy of a fag.
Muttering angrily to himself, he jerked at the steering wheel and turned onto his street, bottles of alcohol clinking in their plastic bags.
“Motherfucking shit goddamn!” He snarled when he saw the police car in his driveway, two police officers stepping out of the car. He recognised them from his school; they were the two detectives who had come and talked in assembly about Margera’s situation, and said that if anybody had any information they were to come and talk to them.
And it seemed somebody had.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Darren hissed and drove past his house, hoping they wouldn’t look through the windows, fingers clenching so his knuckles turned white. It was that Jenn bitch, he was sure of it. Bringing her into this had been a stupid idea, but he’d had to bait the skater somehow.
And now he couldn’t go home. If Jenn had given his name and everything he had done, he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without the cops on his tail. She’d probably told them about the drugs also, the little cunt.
“I’ll get you too,” he whispered to himself, feeling the slow familiar curl of anger winding its way up his spine and lodging into the base of his skull as he headed towards his brother’s.
But not before he finished Margera off. It should be easy, since the little fucker was apparently unconscious and defenceless in his hospital bed. A quick jab of a knife, and it would be over. He just had to get his shit together first, and find a place to live that wasn’t infested with cops.
-Chapter 22
A/N: Sorry about any typos, I was just going over the previous chapters and was kind of ashamed at how many mistakes I've made. :O Anyways, the next few chapters might be kind of boring since Bam is unconscious and all and Ville is in Helsinki, but I'll try and make it face-paced so we can get a move onto Ville finding his way back to Bam, yes? :)
Comments are <3!
Rating: This chapter, R-16
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.
A/N: Next chapter, as promised! :)
Previous Chapters~ Here
21-
The leaves were very green. Ville looked up at them, at the spots of light filtering between them. He could see the sky, just a mass of grey. Clouds a large moving mass, bloated and curling as they grew. Odd, because why was it so bright?
Bam’s front door was yellow, and the steps leading up to it were white. His footprints smeared dirt across the wood as he walked across, the trees whispering from the front yard urging him on as he looked at the brass knob. He turned it, stepped in. Suddenly, it was very quiet. Muted.
No. There was ticking from the grandfather clock across the hall, wood chipped and glass dusty. It read ten to twelve when Ville stood in front of it, touched the cold surface. Where was Bam?
The family picture, framed in modern black and out of place on the floral wallpaper, gave no answer. Bam’s face was silent, and his parent’s features were smudged beyond recognition as they touched his shoulders, his older brother so far in the background he was anonymous. Ville stepped back from it, apprehensive.
“In here.”
Ville turned, smiled, and stepped into the lounge. The woollen rug whispered under his feet, a dark, homey blue, caressing his soles with soft fibres. He absently wondered where his shoes went as a sudden rain beat down on the roof, throwing droplets of salty water against the window in a windy temperament. The curtains were a deep, forbidding purple, sucking in the artificial light shining from the lamp beside the couch.
The smile slid from his lips.
The girl’s hair was red, poisonous as the strands slid through Bam’s tender fingers as he kissed her, holding her tight to his body and in his lap. Bam broke away, looked at him with bored blue eyes that felled Ville to his knees.
“I don’t want you anymore.” He said. “Stop calling me. Go away.”
Tears dripped from Ville’s chin. As the room curled sinuously into darkness the girl looked over her shoulder, teeth bared in a mockery of a smile.
She had his mother’s face.
-
Ville blinked his eyes open, staring up at the darkened ceiling. Tears were wet on his cheeks, and he closed his eyes again, just letting them fall and soak into his pillow silently as the memory of the nightmare drifted away.
It had been a week and a half, and no word from Bam. His phone refused to take calls, the emails Ville’s sent remained unanswered, the invitations for instant messaging neither accepted nor declined. The fear that Bam didn’t want him anymore and was just ignoring him was very real, and Ville was helpless against the feeling of despair deep inside his chest that haunted him. It was also mixed with worry, and a slow frustrated anger that simmered in the bottom of his stomach that Ville didn’t know what to do about, or why it was even there. Anger at himself, his mother, everybody? He didn’t know, or understand. He just hoped nothing bad had happened to Bam. This not knowing, it was killing him.
He’d started school a few days ago, and it seemed his existence there was monotonous. School in Helsinki felt the same as school in America. A different language maybe, and different classes, but there were still the same clichés, the same stereotypes and the same, age-old gossiping. And as always, Ville remained the strange, foreign quiet kid in the corner with no friends to speak of, who wore second hand clothes and hats that hid his face.
And, as always, he remained the easy target of bullies. It seemed Ville was stuck in a never-ending cycle that had no end, one that he couldn’t break out of. Not without Bam, anyway.
Bam, Ville thought sadly, and rolled onto his side, ignoring the wetness on his pillow as he curled up even more under the covers. Even if the heater was on, he was perpetually cold. He didn’t know if it was a consequence of his emotional state or that the weight he had gained from Bam stuffing him at every opportunity was disappearing at an alarming rate, and he didn’t much care. He was just cold. It wasn’t as if Anette starved him, in fact, she was very kind towards him and cooked him food, it was just that Ville had no appetite at all anymore. Food did not appeal to him when he just wanted to lie down somewhere and let life pass him by.
Ville didn’t want to fall back into sleep and back into his nightmare, and while his alarm clock read four in the morning, he still dragged himself out of bed in the dark and went to sit in front of the heater. His fingers longed for his guitar to pass the time, but he knew that it was still under his bed in America, probably gathering dust. At least his mother would probably never find it. Shoulders drooping, he flicked on the light and settled down to do homework that wasn’t due for another week. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do, and anything was better than dwelling on Bam.
At least homework didn’t tear his heart into pieces.
-
For the first few days of Bam’s hospitalisation April had refused to leave his bedside, only leaving minutes at a time to go to the bathroom or grab a bite to eat when her stomach growled angrily at her. She’d even slept in the uncomfortable plastic chair, hunched over and half on Bam’s bed, gripping the hand that was not badly damaged to assure herself that he was still warm and alive. No amount of fussing from the hospital staff could get her to budge, and none of her friends that had come to visit and offer their support and sympathies could get her to go home and at least shower. Phil had gotten a few days off work because of the situation, but he’d had to go back a few days ago. April was pretty sure she’d been fired from her work.
She didn’t really give a shit. The only thing she cared about at the moment was her son, and if he was ever going to wake up. At least he was now off the respirator, and able to breath on his own, and his bruises were beginning to fade, the swelling going down and the cuts healing. But Dr. Lang said that even if it was a step in the right direction, Bam still showed no signs of waking up and his brain activity was worryingly low. He thankfully didn’t mention anything about brain damage again, but April still had refused to hear it.
In the end, it was Phil that had convinced her to go home and get some rest, eat properly and change clothes.
“Bam wouldn’t want you to kill yourself over him,” Phil had said, touching her pallid cheek tenderly, worriedly.
She had shaken him off. “I’m not killing myself. I’m fine.” Her tone had been sharp.
He’d sighed. “No, Ape, you’re not. You’re running yourself ragged. You’re not eating properly, or sleeping, and everybody is worried. Please, come home, Bam won’t be going anywhere.”
“No.”
“Ape, gorgeous,” he’d whispered, laying his head down on her shoulder, his voice suspiciously choked up. “Please, if you don’t end up killing yourself you’re going to end up killing me. The two people I love most in the world, ending up in hospital? What would I do?”
The stark pain in his voice and shaken something inside of her that had been otherwise immovable before, and she’d finally looked into his eyes and seen what she was doing to her husband. April had glanced at Bam’s face, so peaceful but colourless in his unconscious state, his chest moving steadily up and down, and then back at Phil, so earnest in his devastation. Finally, she’d nodded and given in, kissing Bam on the forehead and watching Phil do the same before leaving, both looking over their shoulders at their stagnant son.
April’d spent the night in his arms, and despite her feelings that she would never be able to sleep, she had, and peacefully. In the morning she’d showered, and emerged from the bathroom feeling like she had become alive again. Phil had driven her back to the hospital after a hearty breakfast, kissed her on the cheek, and said he’d come see her at lunch.
Now, she made her way out of the elevator and down the hall to Bam’s room, opening the door labelled with his name and no other. Because of the situation of his hospitalisation, Bam had been given a private room while the police investigated his assault and the arson of the park he’d only been found just in time before he’d given into smoke inhalation. Even after a week and a half, the police had still made no progress.
April paused. There was somebody else in Bam’s room that wasn’t a nurse or a doctor, standing by his bedside with her hair covering her face as she slowly placed a stupid get-well card from Bam’s friends back in its place, next to April’s bright carnations and pristine white lilies.
Cautiously, April closed the door behind her and took a step forward. The girl didn’t appear to notice her.
“Hello?” April said, gripping her bag full of things that she’d brought to do by Bam’s bedside tight in her hand.
The girl jumped and spun around to look at her with wide reddened eyes, her face pale and gaunt and her lips chewed into a swollen, dry mess. April let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t one of Bam’s attackers after all.
“Jenn, this is a surprise.” April smiled a bit uncertainly, dropping her bag onto one of the tables. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.” And she really hadn’t. Bam had really seemed to like her in the beginning, and April had thought her pleasant enough but slightly full of her self, but then Bam had suddenly stopped mentioning her all together and had dumped her for Ville. April mentally winced and shoved the thought into the back of her mind. She had enough on her plate with Bam a few steps away from a coma, and thinking of Bam’s boyfriend at the moment wouldn’t do anything but make her even more emotional than before. Still, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Ville, and Bam’s ex-girlfriend was here. If anything, April was sure that showed that Ville, a boy, couldn’t really care about her Bam at all if he didn’t visit his boyfriend when he was in hospital and gravely wounded.
And if he ever dared show his face after all this time, claiming that he did, well, April had a few choice words to tell him, including some punctuated with her fist.
Jenn looked decidedly uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, her eyes flitting between April and the door. She also was looking quite distressed, her clothes rumpled and in disarray. “Er, hello, Mrs Margera.” She muttered.
Eyebrow rising, April took a step forward to stand next to her. Well that was a first; one of Bam’s friends actually calling her Mrs. Margera.
For a few moments there was silence as April looked Jenn over, before she sighed and sat down in the plastic chair, wincing. You would think hospitals would invest in something more comfortable. Taking Bam’s hand up in hers, April looked her unconscious son over and didn’t know whether to be happy or sad that there was no change in his condition.
Jenn continued to fidget next to her.
“It looks terrible, doesn’t it?” April said quietly, softly stroking a thumb over the back of Bam’s motionless hand. Jenn was silent. Even if the swelling was going down and the bruises fading, Bam still looked like death warmed to life by red spotted bandages and hollow, sunken eyes. They’re removed some of the bandages covering his head, revealing some of his shaven skull littered with discoloration, and it just made him look like a cancer patient in the last few days before they succumbed to death.
“The doctors,” April continued, “say that he’ll probably never wake up. But if he does, he’ll be no better than a vegetable.” She laughed wetly, sniffing. “I don’t believe them. My Bam is stronger than that,” she whispered, mostly to herself.
Next to her, Jenn’s breathing had sped up, and when April looked at her sharply, the blonde flinched back, eyes wide and guilty.
“You know something, don’t you?” April accused.
Chin trembling, Jenn put up her hands and took a step back, shaking her head. April had never seen her so distraught.
Still, April didn’t let up. Her eyes were narrowed, suspicious. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not stupid, Jenn. You wouldn’t show up here unless something was bothering you and I’m not gullible enough to believe that you would be worried for a boy who dumped you flat. Now tell me.”
There was sweat forming on the girl’s forehead now. “I swear, Mrs. Margera,” Jenn stuttered, taking another step back, “I don’t- I swear,” she gulped, beginning to tear up as she began to shake, “please, I didn’t do anything!”
April had no sympathy for her as she stood and grabbed Jenn’s wrist in her hand, tight enough to bruise as the girl broke down into tears, sobbing loudly. “I never meant for this to happen,” she sobbed, cowering in April’s grip and deadly glare. “God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Bam!”
But the wounded skater didn’t reply, and remained motionless as April shoved Jenn into the plastic chair and told her to stay put. Not caring that the girl almost looked like she was about to have a panic attack the way she was beginning to hyperventilate and begging Bam to forgive her through her sobs, April rang the number that the police gave her in case something happened.
“Oh, shut up,” April said to Jenn loudly just as a nurse walked in, looking worried about all the noise, and made her way over to Jenn just as somebody picked up. April explained about Jenn as the nurse gave up trying to calm the girl down and called for a sedative, and hung up when Detective Kay said he’d be right over.
“Don’t give her something too strong,” April said to the other nurse that came in with a tray over the noise of Jenn’s pitiful sobbing, “she’s going to be questioned in a few minutes.”
-
Another day at school, and another day of brainless, friendless, hopeless solitude. Anette had dropped him off in the morning on her way to work, chatting idly at him, and had given him some lunch money and a kiss on the cheek. Ville had smiled at her hollowly just to get her to not look so downtrodden when he hadn’t really responded to her, and had given her an awkward hug. He felt bad knowing that she was doing everything to make him welcome in her and Matti’s life and going out of her way to be kind to him, and he was being so depressed at her, so a hug was the least he could do. At least she’d brightened up at that.
Slinging his battered bag over his shoulder, he’d stuffed the money into his pocket, knowing that he wouldn’t be spending it on lunch, and had made his way into the dreary concrete building that made up the equally dreary public school he now attended. It had been raining, but he hadn’t rushed, so for the first periods of the day Ville had spent cold and damp to the bone. It wasn’t much of a change.
Now it was the end of school, and Ville stood in front of his locker helplessly as the swarm of pupils coming out of classes and getting their things chattered endlessly around him. If it was a normal day back in America, Ville would be meeting Bam at this very moment, and the skater would’ve pulled him into the parking lot and into his car to kiss him breathless and smile at him with sparkling, gorgeous blue eyes.
Ville clenched his eyes shut against the pang in his chest and clung onto his locker door as somebody bumped into him and carried on their way without apologising. Biting his lip, he sighed, ducking his head further underneath his hat and wishing that he could just put his hands over his ears to block out the loud sound of everything around him and scream himself hoarse. He just wanted Bam.
Somebody grabbed onto his shoulder, a heavy, painful grip, and Ville froze. He knew it couldn’t be Darren, but every time something like this happened he couldn’t help but think of the big, disgusting jock and his putrid breath in his face, his bulk pushing Ville down into the dirty tiles of the school hallways. But even though this wasn’t America and Darren was nowhere to be found, this was still a high school, and like every high school, there came bullies.
Big, stupid, imbeciles of shit-head bullies.
“You’re in my way,” the guy said, and Ville closed his eyes against the spasm of hatred in his stomach. Aarne was the one bully that had been on Ville’s back since day one, and Ville wasn’t sure if he hated the bully or himself more, for not fighting back.
Ville definitely wasn’t in his way, but Aarne just wanted an excuse to beat somebody up in front of the school to make himself feel powerful, Ville was sure of it. All bullies were the same, and so were the students, Ville’s so called peers who never did anything to stop them.
Suddenly, Ville had had enough. He was tired of being picked on, of being humiliated and put down and reduced to a shivering heap of aches and bruises at night just for somebody else’s amusement. He was tired of waiting for somebody else, anybody else to save him (oh, Bam, I need you), because it was obvious nobody cared to. He had to stick up for himself for the first time in his life.
The spasm of hot anger in his stomach became a rush, running up his spine and heating his face, and he clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms and his frail frame began to vibrate. He didn’t know what he’d do, but it felt like something that had been held back for years under his mother’s tyranny over his life and school bullies was beginning to break out from the hold that Ville had put on it.
Aarne breathed into his ear, invading his personal space. “Didn’t you hear me? You’re in my way.”
Ville snapped.
Spinning around, Ville raised his fist, his hat dropping from his head as his hair flew around his face. The look on Aarne’s face was comical as Ville’s knuckles smashed into it, crunching into his nose and sending blood flying. The hallway went suddenly completely silent and still, students stopping right where they stood to watch the tables turn on one of the school’s resident bullies.
But Ville wasn’t done. As Aarne hunched over, cursing violently and clutching at his broken nose, Ville lifted a foot and effortlessly kicked the bully viciously right between the legs.
Aarne went down like a sack of big, brainless and in terrible pain potatoes.
“You touch me again,” Ville warned in the shocked silence, shaking out his aching fist, his face still flushed with anger and chest heaving from his exertion, “and I’ll do more than smash you nose in and break your balls.”
Aarne only moaned in pain from the ground in response, slowly writhing as he curled up into a ball and clutched at his crotch. Blood from his nose spilled onto the cream tiles.
Still vibrating with adrenaline, Ville turned around, grabbed his stuff and slammed his locker closed. Turning back around, he stepped over the groaning bully, and suddenly felt the weight of the many eyes from the students around him staring at him. Refusing to back down, he lifted his chin proudly and made his way down the hallway, slowly beginning to pick up the pace as the whispers started around him. By the time he had made it out of the front doors he was a nervous wreck, hands shaking and face pale, his head light and dizzy. He ran around the school building, collapsing against the brick wall and clutching at his pounding chest.
“Oh my fucking god,” he rasped, “I can’t believe I just did that.” Gasping, he slid down the wall in a shocked haze, and lifted his fist to inspect it with wide, disbelieving green eyes. His knuckles were raw and already bruising, and Ville poked at them and winced as a little bit of blood trickled out from where the skin had split. Licking it away, he dropped it into his lap carelessly and tipped his head back, closing his eyes as his heart rate slowed down.
He had never hit somebody before. Ville wasn’t sure if he liked it, the feeling of cartilage giving way under his knuckles and flesh bruising under his feet, but fuck the thrill of finally fighting back was so good. Smiling a bit to himself, he brushed away some relieved tears from his cheeks, not knowing why he was crying for Christs’ sake but he just felt suddenly so much lighter than before. This feeling of triumph was so much better than the self-pity he had been wallowing in. For the first time in a while, he was feeling alive.
Bam would be proud of him.
“Hey.”
Ville flinched and opened his eyes to see somebody standing in front of him, looking down through messy dark brown hair as they scratched absently at their scruffy half-arsed beard. There was a spark of recognition; Ville was pretty sure he shared some of his classes with them, but he had no idea who his name was.
Ville just blinked up at him, the loss of his adrenaline making his frame shiver and his legs wobbly. When it was obvious he was getting up, the guy joined him on the cold ground, damp from the morning rain.
“What you did there was pretty damn awesome,” the guy said, grinning. Ville noted absently that he had a nice smile, honest and almost playful. “Aarne’s one mean son of a bitch. He was just begging for a fist to the face. I’m Mige, by the way.” He held a hand out.
Ville looked at the hand for a moment before tentatively holding his own out, slowly shaking hands with Mige, feeling the rough palms and thick calluses.
“I’m Ville,” Ville said hesitantly.
“Well, Ville, I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” Mige grinned and pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Ville wondered why Mige wanted to hang with him, of all people, since he seemed pretty cool, but he didn’t want to freak out the only person who’d approached him in friendship by prying. But didn’t Mige have other friends?
“Want one?”
Well, today was full of firsts. Ville had just punched somebody in the face after all, what could a cigarette hurt? He nodded, and Mige laughed when he choked on the first inhale.
-
Darren was fucking pissed off. The fucking shit head of a skater refused to die, even after he’d lit the damn little fucker on fire and left him to roast in the park. And to make matters worse, the skinny Finnish whore Valo was nowhere to be found. He didn’t show up at school or at his usual haunts that Darren had followed him to before, and the jock had even looked up his name in the phonebook and gone to his house, where he’d been absent also. It was like he’d just disappeared into nowhere.
And damn it, Darren was horny for a screaming pretty boy of a fag.
Muttering angrily to himself, he jerked at the steering wheel and turned onto his street, bottles of alcohol clinking in their plastic bags.
“Motherfucking shit goddamn!” He snarled when he saw the police car in his driveway, two police officers stepping out of the car. He recognised them from his school; they were the two detectives who had come and talked in assembly about Margera’s situation, and said that if anybody had any information they were to come and talk to them.
And it seemed somebody had.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Darren hissed and drove past his house, hoping they wouldn’t look through the windows, fingers clenching so his knuckles turned white. It was that Jenn bitch, he was sure of it. Bringing her into this had been a stupid idea, but he’d had to bait the skater somehow.
And now he couldn’t go home. If Jenn had given his name and everything he had done, he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without the cops on his tail. She’d probably told them about the drugs also, the little cunt.
“I’ll get you too,” he whispered to himself, feeling the slow familiar curl of anger winding its way up his spine and lodging into the base of his skull as he headed towards his brother’s.
But not before he finished Margera off. It should be easy, since the little fucker was apparently unconscious and defenceless in his hospital bed. A quick jab of a knife, and it would be over. He just had to get his shit together first, and find a place to live that wasn’t infested with cops.
-Chapter 22
A/N: Sorry about any typos, I was just going over the previous chapters and was kind of ashamed at how many mistakes I've made. :O Anyways, the next few chapters might be kind of boring since Bam is unconscious and all and Ville is in Helsinki, but I'll try and make it face-paced so we can get a move onto Ville finding his way back to Bam, yes? :)
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